Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

70 In a flash Leeper resolved to taunt the man, get him off guard and dart in for the un. “What time is it now?” he drawled, his back muscles crawling at the closeness of danger. Zuanich was not averse. to telling. He looked at his big watch. “Half past two,” he answered. half an hour left.” Leep took a step nearer. “A whole half hour?” he cheeped airily. “Plenty, Zuanich.” Zuanich sensed a change. He was im- patient instantly to know what it meant. “You too fresh,’ he snapped. ‘For dat I dock you fifteen minutes. At a quarter a three I shoot. You got fifteen minutes eft.” “Plenty o’ time for you to sweat in, Zuanich.” ? “What?” Zuanich began to bounce again. “I dock you five minutes more, you— you-——”” “‘Aw, be a sport, foreigner,” scoffed Leep with offensive Lightness. ‘‘Dock me ten minutes.” Something inside of Leeper was singing a song of triumph. Something racial and outside his comprehension. The gang was back a few yards in an ill drawn half circle. Time and opportunity for action were at hand. “Ten it iss!” ripped Zuanich, his dark face redly flushed. ‘Five minutes more you got to find de carb.” ““You’re wasting time, king.” Zuanich was almost beside himself. His hands were jerking. Leep felt all knotted up inside. He squeaked out one more taunt: “Why don’t you pull your gun and shoot, you big hunk o’ foreign fat?” Zuanich’s hands fell to his seabbard. Leep tensed to spring in—and a figure in- tervened. A high-voiced, screaching figure it was, with a butcher knife—Smith the cook. “Git his gun, boy! Move, you king 0’ hijackers, and I'll rip ye! Git his gun!” Smith had the point of the knife against Zuanich. In half a second of time Leep had whipped out the automatic pistol. Vike and twoor three others were closing in. Together Leep and Smith got back a step or two. Leep fired a shot over the heads of the men, and another at their feet that sent up a splatter of mud and water. Adventure “Hold back, ye alien dirt!’’ shrilled Smith, brandishing his knife. “T’ll rip yee I’ma knifer from Knifersville, I am!” “Get your hands up!” barked Leep. “Get back, Zuanich!” The men, hands up head high, startled, crowded back, not knowing what to expect. “Us Americans had to stick together,” Smith flung sidewise at Leeper. ‘‘Couldn’t see ye goin’ it alone. What’s next, boy?” “Get the bunch of keys off Zuanich.” Leep’s thought was moving swiftly. The old man thrust the butcher knife between his toothless gums like a pirate of the old school and unhooked the key chain from the hijacker. “Now,” directed Leep, “unlock that safe in the cabin and throw all the guns and knives overboard.” “We ought to search them four immi- grants,” rumbled the old man as he went on board the launch. “They might be spies trying to get into our country.” “Our country” had a significant emphasis for Leeper’s benefit. “We'll ’tend to them,” answered Leep grimly. = - The dried-up wisp came out in a minute, with his butcher knife again clamped be- tween his jaws and looking very fierce, and threw an armload of weapons into the water. Then Leep ordered that every man except Zuanich be locked in the cabin. There were growls and scowls at this and a chattering from the Chinaman, but under the black eye of Leep’s gun they filed across the gangplank. ‘Shame to lock up some of them boys,” Smith said, a little drunk and maudlin from authority, and added sincerely, ““There’s a lot o’ good foreigners in the world, boy.” “Sure,” agreed Leep. “Must be quite a few. But they’s five or six here that need fixing.” With ten men locked securely im the steel cabin, the two Americans set Zuanich to the task of fishing out the carbureter from the dirty pool, cleaning it and replacing it on the engine. As this job progressed Zuanich loosened his uneasy tongue. What was Leeper going to do? Where would he take the bunch? Eh? Run up to Van- couver and forget the little spat like a good feller? But Leep kept silent. “You turn me in to the cops,” asserted the hijacker, getting bolder, “I will tell about the Middy, Missouri, grand jury.” GOMIGIOO (©