Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

IO wondered. No pity lay in him for this man deserted in old age by both sons, for the man needed none. No emotions ap- peared to lie within that heart of granite— only stern duty. Ephraim Hampton was fiercely sufficient unto himself; he had grimly fought off the world until now it lay clear outside him, ignored, and he hewed only to the line of cold duty as he saw it. Dick stiffened a little, began to throw off his awe and fear, in a bitter rush of re- membrances and memories; the man was no longer the child. Five words thus far, and not a word of greeting—while Job Warlock, who loved him, was tramping alone over the snow ruts toward Salem! Still, the mere coming here had required an effort of will, and the effort must be maintained. Perhaps some spark of kind- ness might yet be struck from that flinty heart—perhaps it was the older man who was awaiting some sign of affection, of warmth. Dick put hand to pocket and drew out some of the loose gold there, and smiled. “Well, father, I’ve not done so badly this trip. We turned a good trade at Havana, and I had a share in it, so here’s a roll of the yellow boys that’ll put new paint on the house and keep you in com- fort——”’ “T’ll have none of your ill-got gold,” said Ephraim Hampton coldly. ‘Put it away, for ye’ll have need of it if ye do your duty, and more beside.”’ Dick reddened under his bronze, and anger leaped in his unrestrained. ‘“‘Ah, this is more like it!” he said, coolly unsheathing the one weapon which never failed to drive home and _ infuriate his father. ‘‘You’ve sent out to all the neighbors?”’ “And why?” demanded the other, de- ceived by that casual tone. ‘“‘To bid them to the feast, 0’ course. I suppose you’ve killed the fatted calf, and have decided to get out a jorum of rum for dinner " “Ye sacrilegious ruffian!’? snapped his father, then checked the outburst and sat with big gnarled hands clenching and un- clenching. The weapon had failed this time. “Not a bit of it,’ said Dick lightly. “Sorry I didn’t bring Micky with me. He’s an Irish chap, came up from the Havana with us. He says that the Irish Adventure believe hell to be a cold place, not a hot one—he’d have been confirmed in the belief if he’d come home with me. Yes, this is a grand reception and I appreciate it. Let’s have Eli’s letter, eh? Trot it out, and then I'll be running along on my way.” The older man had a weapon, and a more terrible one, which he did not disdain to use. ‘“‘While you’re in this house,” he said in a cold voice, biting off his words, ‘‘ye’ll not fail in the duty ye owe the man who begat ye, Richard. Aye, that’s your mother’s impudence in ye, showing up! A wild heart she had and ——’”’ This weapon did not fail. Dick Hamp- ton flushed, then a livid pallor crept into his face, and his lips parted in a snarl. “You lying dog,” he said, leaning for- ward in his chair, “put your tongue to my mother again and I’ll drive your teeth in! Duty to you? Bah! I’ve had enough o’ you!” Ephraim Hampton put out a hand to the great Bible lying before him, and the knotted fingers were trembling; but his granite face did not change expression. Only a subtle tone of his voice showed his gratification at having pierced his son’s armor. ‘“There’s a verse I have to read ye,” he said. “It has to do with Eli’s letter, and the duty that’s upon ye.” There was a moment’s silence. Dick Hampton drew a deep breath and relaxed, while his father donned spectacles and turned pages, mouth set in a harsh and unyielding line of thin red. Dick strove for calm, knowing that he had let himself be trapped into an outburst which he now regretted. Home! He cursed the place bitterly. If he had ever had a home to come back to, as other men had, a home to linger in and leave with loathing, a home to welcome him, all would have been different. Then he would have seen more of Nelly Barnes. Then he would not have stood at the cross- roads today and been forced to see her going away, with only one look from her eyes to leave an ache in his heart and an emptiness in his very soul. It did not occur to him that in all this there might be the writing of destiny’s finger. He looked upon it as one mischance after another—his loss of a berth, due to the sale of the Acadian to a gold company; his MICLOOOKS nn