Adventure Magazine Cover — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

ihe Meeting In an hour Butch arrived at the Silver Basin shack. He threw open the door. Red sat facing the opening, holding a rudely fashioned tourniquet high on his thigh. The blood had congealed, and he smiled feebly. “T knew some ’ne was com’n’,” he mut- E- SI tered thickly. ‘I heard Cub ’n’ Whitesock —their bells—las’ night—down by the spring. ’N’ I heard your bell—alla way from the top the hill——”’ But the bells of Cub and Whitesock had not been ringing last niyht, and Butch’s mount, being a pony, wore no bell. THE MEETING by Harvey Sellers Dye ELL met! is how I phrase it, friend. In old Peru, At journey’s end, You welcomed me as one who knew White beaches where the tall palms bend, Far headlands where the trade-winds sweep, Blue reaches where wild horses leap. You welcomed me By Callao forts. You spoke the lingo of the sea, The language of forgotten ports, The lingua Franca of the free. When life unrolled that Lima page I knew we’d met in other age. Perhaps we fared, In old lang syne, With bold Pizarro when he dared The Spanish wolves to cross the line Drawn by his sword; mayhap we stared, With Cortez, at the Aztec gold, Or saw the western sea unfold. New Time atones For old Time’s lust. In Lima, where he dealt in thrones, The conqueror’s bones lie in the dust. Perhaps, revived again, he owns A master, in some narrow cage, And pores above a ledger page. The long sea lane And then Peru— The hawse-hole sped the anchor-chain And made the rovers’ rendezvous. _ We yarned the old moon down the wane With tales of ships, and journey’s end. Some friendships wax thro’ wind and rain— Well met! is how I phrase it, friend. DOOLK 1 @)