Adventure Magazine Cover — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

108 to show the red wound was duplicated on the right side of the neck. “Some one shot an arrer plumb through his neck and busted the big vein!’ howled the infuriated renegade. ‘What does this all mean?” I gasped. ‘“‘Has some one killed the messenger?” “Land sakes! ‘The poor feller’s bled to death!” exclaimed Durgin’s voice at my _ shoulder. The Indians had caught the significance of the two wounds and the direction from which the arrow must have come. Some ran to the clump of trees to find the slayer; others scattered down the bank to find the mortal weapon. “You white men stay here!”’ thundered Girty. To the warriors who had arrived with me he cried in Shawnee— ‘See they don’t leave this fire.” “We don’t want to stay here in the light,” objected Durgin. ‘‘One white man’s been killed already. Your Injuns will be killing us next.” “Do as I say, you Yankee, or my ax’ll save the Injuns the bother,’ Girty passionately warned us. He glared about like one possessed by demons; then he kicked the limp body and gritted out: “You drunken dog! Couldn’t talk to Simon Girty! Wouldn’t tell what you claimed to know. And now you’ve taken your little bag of mystery talk to —— with you!” By this time warriors were streaming from the village to the river. From down the river-bank came the sharp yelp of dis- covery. The men up-stream and in the clump of trees called out that they could find nothing, and one returned to get a blazing fagot so that they might search the ground for signs. I stole a glance at Durgin’s solemn face, and it seemed as if his left eye contracted a trifle. ‘“‘They’ll know when they find the bolt,” I softly whispered. He slowly shook his head, and his tightly pressed lips twitched as if he were fighting back a smile. The man was incomprehen- sible. The warrior down the bank came running back to the fire just as Blue Jacket and his two sons arrived on the scene. The man was brandishing a long war-arrow. Blue Jacket spoke sharply. The man turned from Girty, who was holding out his Adventure hand, and presented the arrow to the chief. Blue Jacket took it and turned it over and over and grunted softly. Then he said: “This is a Shawnee arrow. Who of my children has done this bad thing?” Girty, fairly beside himself with rage, loudly cried: ‘“The dead man said he had a bag of talk for the ears of Weyapiersenwah. He would not tell me what it was. Now Weyapiersenwah will never know what was in the bag.”’ The chief stared at him coldly; for de- spite popular border beliefs Girty at no time held any rank with the Indians. He was the crown’s interpreter and. went with war-parties when the crown’s business did not require his presence at Detroit. From the outset of his career as renegade, when he was sent to the Mingoes by Hamilton, “the hair buyer,’’ down to the time when he was sent by De Peyster to live with the Wyandots on the Upper Sandusky, he was acting under orders of the different Indian agents. His brother James, closely affiliated with the Shawnees for years, had more influence with that nation than did Simon. Simon was thoroughly trusted by the savages, but at no time was he permitted to exercise any unusual authority. Blue Jacket re- sented being interrupted once he had taken a situation in hand. Calling the warriors present by name, he rapidly secured what information each could furnish. Those by the fire, who had listened to the maudlin boasts of the dead man, could only say they had heard the twang of a bow- string and had seen the victim fall and die. The others testified they were standing close behind me when the white man whirled about and fell. Big Bear was the last to speak, and he made my heart light when he said— ‘‘When the man was killed we ran forward to the fire, the two white men with us.” I dared not glance at Durgin, for I could scarcely credit our good luck. I knew from the first that the arrival of the savages had established my innocence, but I had not dared to hope that my friend could slip among them unnoticed while their atten- tion was absorbed by the tragedy. Then came the fear that the mortal weapon would be discovered: for now I realized Durgin had worn the blanket to conceal the bow-gun. And I had a shrewd suspicion as to the source of the arrow. COMG HOO CO