Adventure Magazine Cover — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

136 the world would ever tempt him back again, he swore. Not till they reached Herbert River where the boat was cached, advancing by short marches on account of Petrie and Brown, did he regain any self assertion. He took the shirshis given him—three of them, _ striped in pink and blue and green, as if they were the greatest of gifts, receiving them with reverence. He had been with wizards. When he got to his tribe again he would have wondrous tales to tell. He would have the pick of the women—Molle Molle would be his and forever he would be great in the greatness of the Thunderess. So humble had he become that he even begged for the honor of carrying a load and, all unconsciously, bore on his back a burden that would have brought him more suttongo than his tribe could have smoked in a life- time. To him the shining bits of yellow heavy dirt were no longer to be laughed at as white man’s foolishness but regarded as magic ingredients of their wizardry. It solved their portage problem. Petrie and Brown were barely capable of walking though both were growing stronger gradu- ally. They carried out forty pounds of practically pure metal. It would mint at least eight thousand dollars. There was Adventure twice that much left behind, carefully cached by paced off measurements and bear- ings of which Morbora, otherwise employed, was ignorant and the main mass was un- touched. The Adventurer was in good shape and the owner of the mooring greeted them with voluble commiseration. They did not look much like successful fortune hunters; he had no sight of the gold, stowed under the transoms and they let him do his own talk- ing and draw his own deductions. “Never expected to see you agen,” he said. ‘‘Reckon you didn’t find much gold by the looks of ye.”’ And he cackled at his own wisdom. ‘‘There was another party went up-river right after you did. Didn’t see anything of ’em did, ye?”’ “Tt’s a big country, back there,” said Cole. Brown, obedient, subdued, still a little doubtful as to what disposition they might make of him for his share in Siever’s plan, had been put out of sight in the galley when they saw the man coming. The old fellow nodded. “You bet it’s a big country,” he said. ‘*You’re lucky to be back alive.” “I agree with you,” assented Petrie solemnly. ‘‘We are.” THE END MICLOOOLK C©