Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

| price. The sending of this letter itself was a miracle. The name of that Indian—E]l Hambre, or “Hunger’’—looked very singular. The whole thing left Dick Hampton feeling helpless. Then, as he thought back to what must have happened in the beginning, he lifted bitter eyes to his father. “Your fault,” he said, with intent to make his words bite. ‘You always loved Eli a little bit—and kept him here in your private hell. If you’d given him a chance, he’d have waited and asked me about going. I suppose you had words, drove him to it—eh? And you preach brotherly love! You ought to take that text of yours out West to the Sioux and Blackfeet, along with a keg of rum; they might understand it! So poor Eli is rotting somewhere in Mexico now—and all by your fault.” The hard words hurt, and Ephraim Hampton winced, and his high chin sagged a little. At this, Dick stared curiously; it was the first time he could remember seeing that man of granite betray any sign of emotion. Yes, there must have been some bitter storm when Eli fled forth. Perhaps the father had let his tongue slip on the dead woman—only this would ex- plain the two cruel words opening that letter. “Ready to listen to me?” asked Ephraim Hampton in a dead voice. “Fire away,” said the son, and leaned back. He got out his pipe and stuffed it. “If you don’t like my smoking, be to you. I’m not in slavery, at least.” This brought another wince; but Dick, thinking of his mother who had died be- fore her time, and of his brother, only laughed cruelly. “It’s this,’ said the older man. ‘Your duty is to go and look for Eli. It’s your bounden duty, Richard; I say it. I, who begat you, lay that duty upon your con- science.” Dick laughed again, and now spoke words that he did not entirely mean, as men do when the white heat of anger is in their brain. “Who are you to lay a duty upon me?”’ he said, meeting those icy eyes squarely with his own gaze, and speaking quite coolly. ‘Did I ever have a friendly word from you in my whole life? Not one. Many a dutiful word, but never one of affection or love. You hate all the world, including yourself, and always did. You’re Adventure a narrow-minded old man, and I thank heaven daily that I’ve mighty little of your mean disposition in me. What I am, I owe to mother—and the same with Eli. You needn’t lay any duty on me, because I don’t give a hang for your laying; I see things with my own eyes, not with yours. If you’d given me one gentle word when I came in this house today, I’d have met it half-way—but it’s not in you. You’ve made your bed and for all of me you can lie in it. What good could I do poor Eli? He’s gone.” His words met with no anger, only with an intensified coldness. Ephraim regarded his son grimly for a moment, then made response. ‘True enough, Richard, all very true; but let me finish. You are, and always have been, a headstrong and unregenerate limb of the devil. Love? No. You’ve given me hate for hate, and yet I cannot say that I hate you at all. You’ve given me grief and pain with your ungodly ways, and yet I never put you from my roof. If you were in Eli’s place today, I’d do for you what I shall for him.” This gave Dick pause. ‘Duty,’ he commented, and uttered a scornful laugh. Yet he began to see that while he and his father were poles apart, every question was bound to have two sides. ‘“‘Aye, duty,” said the older man. “I think more of Eli than I do of you, yes. Why not? He stayed here with me while you ran away to sea, to wallow in the in- iquities of godless men——” ‘Aye,’ and Dick broke into a laugh, then began to chant the words: “‘As I was a-walkin’ up Paradise Street, Way, hay, blow the man down! A pretty young gal I chanced for to meet, Give me a hand to blow the man iB ‘“‘Silence!’’ snapped his father. ‘Will ye listen to me out or no?” “If ye have anything better than ser- mons to deliver. As for going after Eli, why not go yourself? It was you sent him out, not I—and I can imagine the words on your godly lips that drove him to take flight.” Then Dick Hampton was astounded; for his father, sitting there so grimly, lifted a hand as if to ward off a blow. “Don’t. Don’t! That’s® true enough.” micloool © inn