Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

58 the farmhouse with his father, while the woodpecker tap-tapped somewhere above. Over the odorous air of the adobe shack, sharp through the dark growl of sodden voices, came the rasping clat—clat—clat of palm-fronds overhead, like the flicker of reef-points against a wind-bellied main course. That sound drew a long breath from Hampton, roused up the man in him; he quietly stretched out, rolled over against the wall, and lay motionless, fighting down the torrential anguish of his soul. Like that scene in the farmhouse with his father, where a certain self-mastery had come to him, this night marked another and a greater fixation of his character. “The world’s a good place—so hurray!”’ he quoted softly to himself, and managed awry smile at thought of Job Warlock. As he lay, he heard voices at the door, and the whining peon drawl brought him sharper comprehension of the situation. The guards were there and had checked off each slave upon entering; none could now leave the place until morning came. Im- pressed by this evidence of caution on the part of Dias, Hampton rolled over against the wall—and his elbow rapping the adobe gave a distinctly hollow sound. Curious, he leaned aside, reached out and raked away the matted tatters of blankets there, and his fingers groped into a long and ragged hole scraped in the adobe. ‘Then they fell upon a long knife or machete esconced in the hole. He lay wondering, startled by his dis- covery. Was there some instinct of escape still dormant in the enfeebled brain of poor Eli? Or was this the token left by some forme: occupant of the double bunk? It was hard to say; none the less, Hampton’s fingers thrilled to the touch of the blade. It meant a weapon. There came a new altercation at the door, and the sound of his brother’s vapid laugh; it went through him like a knife. Then the shambling step across the trodden earth floor, and presently a figure crept in beside him and straightened out in the bunk. His brother—here at his side in the dark- ness, yet unknowing! The thought was agony. The realization of that blinded intellect A hand reached out, touched his arm, came down to his wrist; fingers caught at his in a wild grip—a frantic and terrible convulsion of the muscles. Adventure “Dick! Dick!’ The low-breathed word reached his ear and stunned him with its import. ‘Are you awake, Dick!’ ‘In heaven’s name——” That hand shifted rapidly, clamped down over Hampton’s lips, cut short his astounded ejaculation. The low whisper vibrated again at his ear. “Careful, careful! Spies all around. Oh, Dick, it was so hard to do! But I had to do it. We don’t know who the spies are—ever since I got a bad clip over the head I’ve played the fool—it’s the only thing that has saved me! Don’t spoil it now, Dick—don’t spoil it! Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come—and So sorry = The words died out in a low, inchoate sob. With that, Hampton gave way; the furious back-swing of his emotion caught him up in its rush, and gathering the tattered figure in his arms he lay with sobs tearing at his throat and tears blinding him. Weariness was forgotten—torture and mental horror, despair, wounds, all were swept aside by this overwhelming discov- ery. So tremendous was the revulsion that Hampton lay for a long while unable to speak, unable to trust himself; until at length he put lips to ear and broke silence with shaken accents. So in the darkness of the slave-pen came to be delivered the message from father to son. Then, after a little, Hampton mentioned that hole in the wall. “A night’s work will finish it,” said Eh, little more than forming the words with his lips. ‘But it’s no good, Dick. Can’t get away. No hope onearth. Pap Hoskins is in the game with me, and so is that big Frenchman with the blue-black beard. All we wanted was a chance to strike a blow —hopeless to think of escape.” “Nelly Barnes—have you seen her?” “Yes,”’ uttered Eli, and in the word were volumes. ‘‘She’s all right—so far. No chance to talk with her. Things are quiet- ing down now—be careful! Wait until morning. Act a part. Make them think you’re broken—or they’ll use the whips. The others who came with Dias and Nellie are gone. They couldn’t last long. Dias sent them out into the desert gathering wood for the fires; it killed them quickly. Now wait until tomorrow.” Hampton obeyed. Presently he fell asleep, tears on his cheeks. Daylight came, sharply cold. Dick micloool © in