Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 60: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

1006 He wrung my hand and told me I had done a plucky thing in coming as I had, though I think he just said that to ease me. How different the return marches—the throbbing tom-tom that livened the twink- ling black legs, and the negroes’ chant about the ‘‘big massa.’”’ Mr. Marshall came out of his silences to talk about taking down the balance-sheets himself. He said that he would speak the word to the A. G. about giving me the agency; that he would take Mohara down, as, since his exposure at Illorin, he was no longer a political asset. He ‘“‘dashed” me his sporting rifle, and promised to send out some golf-sticks when he got home. But when he held my hand, down at the THE. * @ Be My ‘ et es ate; ADVENTURE OF Adventure bottom of the trading compound, one foot — in his canoe, the balance-sheets wrapped in tarpaulin and gripped under his left arm, and his heart reaching out to white faces and cities of stone and chiming cathedral spires and the bit farm, I looked at the sheds and the sodden thatches of the vil- lage huts, listening the while to the wiz- ardly incantations to the thunder-god and I tried ever so hard to say, ‘“‘God speed.” I tried to send my respects to Mrs, Mar- shall, but I hated that he should hear the pebble in my throat. I stood there, looking after his canoe, until his handkerchief had become only a little white dot in the distance; then I walked up to the empty chop-room. THE FRENCH CAPTAIN A TALE OF THE ADVENTURE SYNDICATE,LIMITED GEORGE BARTON ‘ow ND Bagdad, in the days of its Al greatest glory,” said Bromley Barnes, gazing reflectively from tie the bay window of his Washing- ton Square apartments, ‘‘never possessed half the possibilities for mystery, romance and adventure that are to be found in the large cities of these United States.” Forward looked at the old man with a trace of skepticism in his big brown eyes. “They’re human bee-hives, all right,” he admitted, ‘‘but I can’t see much in it beyond a frenzied struggle for wealth and pleasure.” Barnes gazed out at the green of the park with its big white marble arch before re- plying. “’You’re like most men in the legal pro- fession, Forward,” he said finally; “much dabbling in the intricacies of the law has made you a skeptic.”’ cComicbook C©