Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

South, West and North of them first. So Icame back. It wasa long way.” “This man, Sefior Job, is my friend,” and Hampton indicated Warlock. ‘He comes with me to find my brother—and another. Did you see Dias and the people with him, in Panama?”’ ‘*$Z; his schooner was there.”’ “Did you see a sefiorita with brown hair, who was alone?”’ Warlock caught the eye of the Indian and winked significantly, and the brows of El] Hambre went up. ‘“‘Ah, yes! Yes, sefor. She went on his schooner, with others. Some of them he will put ashore at Mazatlan, others he will take home as slaves.” Hampton produced the envelope which had contained the drafts, and pointed to the two mysterious characters on the wax seals. “What does this writing, if it is writing, mean?” The Indians shrugged. “No sé, sefor! It is a mark, a brand, used by Dias; all his men know it and re- spect it.” “Perhaps this is the same thing,’ said Hampton grimly, and produced from be- neath his shirt the silver-hilted knife. He indicated the characters graven in the haft. A gasp broke from the Indian. He leaned forward, took the knife, examined it with awed and incredulous eyes. Then he gazed wolfishly from Hampton to Job Warlock. “Tt is the knife of Dias himself,” he said. “Hurray! That settles who is the mur- derer!”’ cried Job Warlock, and grinned. “Little black bull come over the moun- tain’—Hurray! Now we can go ahead, get the consul to have Dias stowed away in the calabozo, and go investigate his joint up the coast!’’ “Not so fast—explain the matter first.” Between them they sketched for El] Ham- bre what had taken place aboard the Han- nah, and how they had been providentially picked up by the French ship. The lean Indian listened, his eyes flashing, a keen intelligence evident in his features. He was by no means handsome, since his face was scarred and pitted by smallpox, but both men warmed tohim. — “Now,” concluded Hampton, “here is what must be done. We must go to Pana- ma and return the money that Dias stole 35 from those men, and you must tell them whose knife this is - El Hambre intervened. | “A moment, sefior! It is impossible to go to Panama.”’ ‘“‘Why impossible?”? demanded Hampton, reading much behind the words. The Indian laughed in his harsh, chuck- ling way. “TI was there last night, bargaining with that yellow man to bring him to Chagres, | that I might kill him; unluckily, there was another yellow man s ‘“‘Another?” struck in Hampton. “An- other Chinaman?” ‘Dias is served by many of them,” ex- plained the Indian. men are his friends; why, I do not know. Yes, there was another. I wanted to make sure of him also, and last night I followed him to the place, where he lived, in the street of the shoemakers. There was a baile in that street, and just as I was killing the yellow man, a fight arose between Americanos and police; so it happened that, as I was leaving the house, police seized me as a thief. They let me go when they recognized me, for it is known that I am no thief; but when they find the dead yellow man this morning, they will search fcr me. They may be searching now—gquién sabe? If I go to Panama, they will take me.” Hampton marveled at the cool and im- perturbable manner in which this man spoke of his killings. It was unreal and ghastly, almost inhuman; nothing could have so bitterly emphasized the Indian’s ferocious and deadly hatred of Dias as his matter-of-fact recital. Under the circum- stances, it was of course impossible for El Hambre to venture into the city by day. On the other hand, Hampton was resolved to get the murder of Jed Barnes cleared up and thus procure his own absolution from the crime. The opportunity which was now his might never come again, and he was savagely determined not to lose the providential chance. Yet, for a moment, he could find no way out of the impasse. Upon the silence rose the voice of Job Warlock, humming his interminable ditty: “A little black bull came down from the mountain, Ri tura lingtum, ri tura lay! A little black bull came down from the mountain, Ri tura lingtum, diddle diddle aye! “Oh, the little black bull he was feeling frisky, Ri tura lingtum, ri——”” micloool “Most of the yellow — C© in