Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

88 my band can be killed unless the band so says overasmoke. There will soon be a big talk here to find out what he will do next. We must be very wise. We have no time now in killing one white man whose hands have been tied.” Turning to Murray, he ordered: “Go to that house. Take the man with you. Keep in the house.” And he nodded toward a small frame structure on the edge of the village. Further to insure their safety he walked behind them to the door. The house was empty. Wacouta did not enter, but, halt- ing at the door, he said: “Very bad. Wacouta talks peace. His men will fight. If they drink more white whisky Wacouta’s voice will sound far off. Bimeby they kill all white men they see. Run away in the dark when the big talk begins.” He closed the door but soon returned with a pail of water which he handed in, also a box of figs that a few hours before had been on a trader’s shelf. As he was with- drawing Shanty Mose asked— ‘How shall I get away?” “Swim. Can’t swim? Die in the river. Better die in water than by tomahawk,”’ was the terse reply. The small room was filled with dusk. Standing back a few feet from the small window, the two men stared out on the quarreling, exulting men and women, now insanely dancing around the fires. Two or three men occasionally rode their ponies into the firelight, waved scalps on sticks and boasted of murders committed at un- suspecting farmhouses. Each such arrival was greeted with whoops of rejoicing. Those Indians who had bottles tied to their wrists would seize the newcomers and give them drinks. The bottles contained medi- cines and liniment as well as alcohol. It resulted that more than one fighting man was soon stretched in pain on the ground, or lying insensible. “Never knew they could be like this,” faintly whispered Murray. “T’ve seen them before on a rampage,”’ muttered Mose. ‘‘Wish all them bottles was filled with arsenic. Old Wacouta was right. Drowning will be much better.” “Tl never forget the sights I saw at the agency!” gasped Murray, wiping the sweat from his face. ‘Never dreamed anything like it could be possible!”’ - a white voice. Adventure ‘“‘They fetched me through the agency,” sighed Mose. “I saw men and women hewed to pieces before they could get out of bed. Philander Prescott was the first dead man I saw. They’d chopped off his head. And he married a Sioux woman and lived among them all these long years! Just after they snagged me near the ferry I saw Nar- cis Gerrian jump from the mill window. He was shot three times before he could make the river. But his death wa’n’t bad. He didn’t suffer any. * ”’ ‘“‘Wacouta is friendly, but he can’t con- trol his men,’’ muttered Murray. ‘‘Let’s go up into the loft. If any Indians look in and find the room empty they’!l pass on.’’ “Go ahead. I'll fetch the water,” agreed Mose. ‘When it gets darker I’ll make a break. You’re safe here. Outside in the dark you’d be killed before they could see the crowskin.” “No, no. I can’t stay here. I’d go crazy. I must go with you. Hark! That’s God help him!” him and roast him!” gritted Mose, one foot on the ladder. ‘That’s a devil’s voice. It’s Godfrey, the colored man. Up with you!” They gained the loft, closed the trap and lay on the floor close to the small window. A crowd of fresh arrivals were dancing frenziedly about, flourishing soldiers’ rifles and ripping knapsacks to pieces. These were some of the spoils taken from Captain Marsh’s company. Godfrey appeared in the firelight. He had more watches strung around his waist. The door opened below, and Mose squirmed back to the trap. A child’s shrill voice penetrated the hoarse clamor like a thin knife-blade, asking— | “Are we going to be killed now, mama?”’ “Oh, God! I can’t stand that!” groaned Mose, opening the trap and preparing to descend. : Mrs. De Camp and her children stood near the foot of the ladder. Wacouta from the doorway was saying: “Very bad. White squaw stay here.’’ He handed out a box of figs, such as he had given the men. ‘Two white men there.”’ And he pointed and called the woman’s attention to Mose and Murray. Then to the latter he called out: * Mose was mistaken. Gerrian was shot three times, twice through the breast. Yet he swam the river and dragged himself sixty-five miles through woods and swamps and was taken to Henderson by refugees. €¢ cComicbook (© =