Adventure Magazine Cover — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

“Madame bringing it slowly up so that at the last’ note of Colors, the muzzle would be right Close to his head. Well! That’s just what I thought for a minute, absolutely nothing, my mind went blank. Then I got a giddy idea that he must have learned we were coming to ar- rest him—but why not a getaway, then? And why the salute? And then I happened to notice a tiny American flag pinned to the wall just where his eyes! ‘had rested when that queer change had come to him last night. But even then I didn’t begin to under- stand until I glanced around at Martin. Say, his eyes were that bright with hope that they dazzled me. Of course, he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t be until—but he was cer- tain enough of Rounce’s innocence that he gestured me to save him. I understood why he left it for me to do— he wanted to see what was in the envelope before he palavered with Rounce. Well, I’d have liked that, too. But I was sure enough what was in the envelope—or rather, what wasn’t in it—that when I leaped forward to drag Rounce’s wrist down, a sort of pity for him came to me, and a desire to spare him shame, and I rasped out, as if to Martin: “Tt’s the heat. It’s the —— heat that’s to blame.” The revolver went off once, but didn’t do any harm. While Rounce and I struggled over it—he was a considerably lighter man than I am—I managed to get a few inter- mittent glimpses of Martin. He was going over the papers in a rush, and the way he was looking, I knew everything was as I’d Mustache’’ Io! thought. So when I managed to make Rounce see the foolishness of fighting, I held him by the shoulder for a moment and looked straight into his eyes. ‘“‘Whether it was the heat or not,” said I, “‘there’s a lot that needn’t be reported. Every thing’s all right, d’ye get me? Ex- cept that we owe you a heap, and the Gov-| ernment does, too, for helping get the goods’ on Muller—and here’s a man coming that, seems to think he owes you for something | else.”’ | It was Martin, of course, and I’d swapped my prisoner for the papers in a hurry, and turned my back on the two. But there wasn’t much to their greeting, just a few words, a handshake, I guess—Martin never was much of a talker, and it wasn’t a time to talk. So I don’t know yet what brought them together so strong in France, and I suppose there’s no need of knowing. | And I guess that’s about all, except—’ Oh, the papers? Of course the drawings on them were about as valuable as so many hens’ tracks, though they did look some like the plans of fortifications—Rounce’s little joke on Muller. And then he had to keep the Jap satisfied during the night, so he’d be sure to be free at Colors. Free to die at Colors, in salute to the flag that he’d fought for, and disgraced, and been tempted to betray. H-m! Sentimental? Oh, ——, yes, and plumb foolish besides. A romantic geezer, as I’ve said. What the heck difference would it make to the flag, Task you? But it made something of a hit with a few people Martin told it to in confidence, and Rounce is climb- ing the ladder again under that same flag. ““MADAME MUSTACHE” by Frank H. Huston NE of the famous and myste- -@ rious characters who thronged the } streets of Deadwood in the Black : Hills in the latter seventies was a fine-looking, plump little Frenchwoman of about forty years, called Madame Mus- tache, from a dainty little hirsute adorn- ment gracing her upper lip. For fifteen years she had followed the railway and mining camps conducting gambling houses ‘‘on her own,” dealing her own game, handling the faro box like a veteran and maintaining ‘‘order” (as it was known) in every establishment she owned. Nothing was known of her antecedents except that she was of a degree of culture superior to her environment and was a good sport and a square dealer. COmiclboook CO