Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

Days of Morgan she addressed the little man in the dirty smock who was standing behind the monk’s chair. ‘“‘Are you not a Fleming?” she asked in Dutch, for she had lived long in Flanders and spoke that language, and Spanish, as well as French and her own tongue. “*Yes,”’ answered the man, his face bright- ening, but keeping a nervous eye upon d’Ogeron, nevertheless. ‘“‘I made sure of it when first I saw you. Can your master speak your language?” “No.” “Nor the monk?” S*Nig:?” “Is your master kind and good to you?” The man hesitated, a look of fear in his eyes. ‘‘No,” he replied faintly. ‘“‘Would you escape if chance offered you the opportunity?” “Ja. With all my heart!” ‘And the black man. Is he, too, anxious to regain his liberty?” ‘“‘He weeps all day for his wife and baby. He is not happy here.”’ ‘““Where are they?” “T do not know. Somewhere on the Gold Coast.” : “Can you speak his language, or he yours?” “T have taught him a few words; he has taught me some of his.” ‘‘Tell him from me that if he will do as I say this night, I will give him his liberty. Ay, if I have to take him back to Africa myself, I will restore him to his wife and baby if he will but obey me in everything I command.” The little Fleming spoke a few guttural words to the negro, who showed his white teeth in a broad grin and answered him, edging away the while from his master. “T could not explain all to him,” said the Flem; ‘‘he said he would follow me in all things. I can trust him.” “Tell him to unbar the great door and whistle thrice.” The Fleming repeated the message. ‘““He says he can not whistle. He does not know how to do it; I can not make him understand.” “Then, do you go. Simply unbar the great door and whistle thrice, as loudly as you can; then leave the door unbarred, and return here.”’ D’Ogeron’s face was purple with rage. Now, as his serving man began creeping 29 toward the door, keeping his back always to the wall, he burst forth in a perfect storm of anger. “Strike her down, you scullion!” he roar- ed. ‘‘’Tis a woman, fool—a chit of a girl. Throw thyself upon her.” The Fleming stopped irresolute, rooted in his tracks, and gave Nancy a look from his eyes in which she saw fear and doubt. “Throw thyself upon her, varlet! Do you value your own wretched life above your master’s? Tomorrow you shall swing for this.”’ “Do not fear him, my friend,” said Nancy, smiling encouragement. ‘“Tomor- row we shall be far away from here, and he can not harm you.” The man moved toward the door. And now he would have to pass Yellow Eyes, who stood nearest to the opening. ‘“‘Hear you, dumb man,” admonished the girl, “if you seek to hinder him in any way be assured I shall kill thee if it take the only charge in my musket to do it.”’ Yellow Eyes did not stir. The Fleming reached the door, darted out and disap- peared in the passageway without, and she heard him unbarring the great door, and, immediately thereafter, the sound of three long whistles came faintly to her ears. ‘Strike her down, monk!”’ cried the Gov- ernor. ‘‘She durst not harm a man of your cloth. Perdition take you! Do something, I say! Sacré/ Excommunicate her, monk!” The monk at this, with a wild look about him slid under the table with an agility that he would not have been given credit for, and presently, everything remaining quiet, his hairy arm appeared above the board, groped around among the dishes, found a bottle which he tightly clutched, and that too disappeared. Whereupon the silence was broken by a gurgling sound, and an instant later by footsteps in the passage and the bark of a dog, and Barney burst into the room, Three-legs at his heels. THE three-legged mastiff crouched, } as if to hurl himself at the throat of Yellow Eyes, while the Irish lad, seeing d’Ogeron held under the muzzle of Nancy’s musket, put his pistol at the black man’s head and his knife at the pit of his stomach. | “How now, Barney!’ cried Nancy. ‘‘Would you kill our good friend? Have a CoOMmichoooks CO