Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

28 west coast. Now come back to the job which we ain’t finished. Where’s that knife?”’ Hampton retrieved the weapon from its position in the stern and they examined it for the first time, with quick interest. The blade was not extraordinary, being of that universal and deadly fashion known to the whole frontier, ncrth and south, as a Bowie. The handle, however, was most peculiar; Hampton recalled the skipper’s comment that the murderer would never have left such a knife had he been given time to withdraw and remove it. The haft, with its short cross-guard, was of solid and heavy silver, intricately fashicned in the shape of an angel whose wings formed the guard, a hole between the feet carrying a stout ring through which the lanyard ran. “Spanish or Mex work,” observed Job Warlock, “and durned pretty work, too. What’s them figures on the back, matey? Mean anythin’ to you?” Hampton shook his head. On the back of the angel were graven, or chiseled, two characters, running deeply into the metal, one above the other. To Hampton they meant nothing: “All Greek to me,” he responded. ‘‘Are they Mexican Indian?” “Don’t look like it, only I’m no judge,” said Warlock. ‘Well, the knife don’t tell us much—but hang on to it. Better lay off smokin’ that ’bacca and chew it. Good for what ails us both right now. Hard times ahead, as the Injun said when he rubbed his belly.” Hampton occupied himself with cleaning the knife, and presently slung it about his neck once more, beneath his shirt. The afternoon was nearly gone, and the sun went westering with never a fleck of sail to break the rim of the horizon. The boat rose and fell monotonously to the lift of the long seas, and as the slow darkness drew down the two men who sat in her were fully aware of what future they faced. The crafty guile of Dias, who had so cun- ningly twisted to his own advantage all the little happenings aboard ship and so master- fully dominated the sequence of events, had doomed them. They realized that without food or water they had practically no hope, for the chance that any ship would pick them up within a week was negligible in the extreme. Yet, as they sat and rocked to the motion Adventure of the boat, they talked of Chagres and Panama, and of the future. BOUND WEST I Xa WHEN the Veronique of Bordeaux yA cast anchor in the shallow _har- “bor of Chagres, there was no ship in port except one steamer of the At- lantic Steamship Company; the Hannah of Beverly had come and gone again. The company of gold-seekers aboard the French ship, who called themselves the Compagnie de l’Ouest d’Or, now experienced the same adventures which met all companies, of whatever nation, landing at Chagres. The inimitable “Doc ’’ White, an enter- prizing Yankee, was first aboard the ship, and with praiseworthy energy contracted for delivery of all freight and luggage across the isthmus—half the payment in advance. He then rushed ashore to get his lighters out to the ship, and that was the last seen of the gentleman. Meantime, the harbor sharks were enjoying huge feasts, and con- stant explosions were taking place in the bowels of the Veronique as rotten tinned meats and provisions let fly; a stream of tins were going overboard. No one got ashore from the French ship that evening, except two castaways who had been picked up at sea—two dark, bearded, silent sur- vivors of a foundered American fishing smack. These two, who spoke Spanish fluently, and who were well provided with money, greased the palm of the port officer and went ashore with him. Eagerly enough, the Frenchmen piled ashore next morning, delighted with the golden oranges and bananas, the green jungle, the gaily colored birds and the chat- tering monkeys; sight of the crumbling and dismantled fortifications wakened their romance, which did not wane at closer view of the thirty miserable huts which made up the village, and the two wretched hotels. Romance presently gave way to more prosaic feelings, however, when they left their luggage piled along the beach and set out to obtain passage to Panama. Voluble Frenchmen engaged in high talk with silent, shrugging peons, obtained in- terpreters, arranged for boats and mules, paid over money on account, and then returned to the beach to find most of their luggage stolen. Lusty Gallic voices arose DOOL nn) (© in