Adventure Magazine Cover — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

Two Fools his chair and was glaring with unconcealed hatred at Black Michael. He cleared a space for himself by shoving away the table and kicking back his chair, then he stood, his whole body tense, returning stare for stare. The French proprietor broke the sus- pense. He shot in between the two men, swept the bottles and glasses from the near- by tables into his apron, and scuttled to the rear with them. “Stop them!” cried some one; and in that moment the red-bearded one sprang. He leaped clear over one table, spun an- other out of his path, and drove his fist with all his power to Black Michael’s body. Black Michael went to his knees, but was up again in a flash, and he sent the other man back on his heels with a smash to the jaw. “Tit for tat, Jem McClone,” growled Black Michael. They grappled and, fighting furiously, rolled together under a table. The table was lifted and flung aside as they came up, and a chair was splintered as they went down again. For a moment Black Michael was on top, and he battered Jem McClone’s face with both heavy fists; then Jem fought free and sent the other sprawling with a kick to the stomach. Together they rose from the floor and stood toe to toe, each striving to beat down the other with heavy, crashing blows. “Stop it!” cried the same voice that had spoken before. Captain Mac leaped forward. He kicked Jem McClone’s feet from under him and dived football-fashion at Black Michael’s legs, sending him to the floor. Before either of the two big men could gain their feet they were pinioned by the men who sprang upon them. “Now, what the is it all about?” asked Captain Mac, rising and brushing his clothes. | : Still holding their captives, they looked at him. One man snickered, then sobered as another cast him a warning glance. Some of them seemed to want to laugh, but didn’t. They all seemed torn between pity and amusement. No one answered. “Black Michael is my friend,” said the captain, half-angrily;, “and I——” ‘He is our friend too, captain,’ said one 37 of them curtly; ‘‘and so is his brother Jem. We know what we’re doing.” The captain shrugged, and _ stepped aside. Black Michael, still struggling, bleeding from mouth and nose, was dragged out of the place and down the street by five men. Captain Mac could see that Black Michael had no animosity against any of the men who had hold of him, that the big man merely struggled to break away and get back at his brother, to renew the fight; moreover, that his captors were handling him as gently as possible; so he did not interfere. Besides, he was acquainted with several of the men and knew them to be respectable traders. But he was greatly puzzled. Jem McClone, bleeding from a deep gash on his cheek, in one hand a tuft of hair which he had yanked from his brother’s beard, still lay on the floor, a man upon each arm and each leg and one upon his chest. “All right,” said a man who had sta- tioned himself at the entrance, “let ’im up. They’ve put Michael in the hoosegow for safe-keeping.” The five men rose from off Jem McClone. The big red-bearded man rose slowly. He wiped blood from his lips and spat out a tooth. He dragged a chair to a table in a corner and sat down alone, with his back to the rest of the room. “Rum and kola,’’ he snarled to the fright- ened proprietor. The men looked at one another, and shook their heads. Some of them returned to their seats; some of them went out. “What do you say, captain?” invited a man whom the captain knew, turning a chair toward him. “No, thanks,” answered Captain Mac. “T have to enter my ship at the consular office.” He left the place and walked to the con- sular office, in the next block. Breen, the consular agent, was a political derelict. He had been washed up on the beach at Jacmel, so to speak, and forgotten. He was a tall, slim, wiry man with slightly grayed hair and overhanging eyebrows. “Greetings, One-IT'wo Mac,” he said, holding out his hand to the captain; and then, to some one in the rear: “Boy, another orange-blossom.”’ “T heard about it,” said Breen as the captain sat down. ‘“‘You were going to NOOK 1 @)