Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

136 Peller did what he could to ease the Yakoma youth. He saw immediately death was a matter of seconds. He never- theless made a pretense at a rough bandage, his powerful hands unusually gentle. He sensed anew the bitterness of the raw primitive life of the bush, which is pitiless and takes no account of youth or weakness. An unexpected remorse swept over him. Why had he brought the poor fellow along? Why had he not freed him at once? Ner- vously he lighted a cigaret and moved away to the door, where he stood and looked out. The fishermen were picking up their dead and wounded. Peller forbade his men to shoot upon them. When he looked around the negro appeared to be asleep. He was dead. Bo Diare reached down, took the small leather bag from his neck. “Give me the gris gris,’”’ Peller said. He slipped the amulet into his pocket. The youth’s life had paid for his. Fate worked in strange ways. One is picked for death, the other left behind. When would his turn come? A lead slug could tear through white skin, as easily as through black tissues. “Gris gris be no good,’ he heard Bo Diare mutter. A A FEW hours later, Doucet arrived. 2.9 He was tall and thin. His face was “3 clean-shaven, and he did look like a monk, a fighting monk, such as went forth to battle in the old days, wielding a mace; for the Church scorns the sword, His gray eyes, set wide of his thin nose, smoldered in anger. His lips were tense. Peller, speechless, brought his hand to the brim of his helmet and waited. Doucet, mechanically answering his salute, spoke sharply. “Why this butchery?” “T was attacked, sir.”’ “The natives never reason.” “They had a reason, major. But I was not the direct cause of their resentment. Tari will bear me out that I fired only in self-protection. And I lost one man killed, one wounded.” “That does not justify you. The natives ask nothing better than to live at peace with the white men. I utterly disapprove of your conduct.” “T regret—’’ Peller offered. attack without Adventure “Enough!” Doucet interrupted. “What are you doing here?” Peller briefly explained the loss of his rifles, “Y stayed on with the permission of Captain Carlotti, of your own army, who declined my offer to surrender.” “Carlotti is a bandit.” “So I now surmise. But until this morning I had seen nothing to indicate that he was not acting in official capacity. | His brutality toward the fisher-folk caused the attack on me.” “T am commissioned to put an end to such practise. The killing of childish, docile natives has gone on too long!” “Childish, yes!’ mentally agreed Peller. “But scarcely docile.” But he wisely kept silent. “Ym afraid things will be unpleasant for you when your government is informed,” Doucet added. “Captain Carlotti brought me to this village, and I cannot be held responsibie for anything save the original fault of land- ing on Belgian ground.”’ “We'll see,” Doucet replied shortly. A short distance away Bo Diare was re- newing the bandage on his wound, pre- paring an herb poultice. Doucet turned and looked at him. “What’s your man doing?” he asked. “Preparing a healing salve of some sort.” ‘“‘And does it heal?” the major asked. “Yes, very swiftly.” “I wonder, I wonder—” the Belgian mused. He stepped to Bo Diare’s side and asked questions. Then he drew out a note- book and scribbled. He glanced up as Peller approached. ‘Very curious,’ he said. His former resentment had vanished. “I make an intensive study of botany,” he explained. ‘Your man, here, knows much about native plants.” “He was somewhat of a sorcerer in his own tribe,’ Peller assured Doucet, ‘‘and should know.” “T did not know Were leaves possessed healing virtue,” the major said pensively. ‘Yes, I wonder Zz Peller understood. Doucet was neither a professional soldier, nor an _ inspirecdl monk. He was a scholar. His was’ the scientist’s anger at disregarded theories. COMICLOOCKKS. CGO S|