Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

62 Adventure is "bout they grub. How is we gwine to do?” “We'll eat what the little boy shot at. It won’t kill us to miss a feed or two. What we need now is rest. We'll see tomorrow.” ““Yessuh.” Willie knew as well as he knew his name that they were in desperate straits. But when Bain spoke reassuringly, the black -man couldn’t help feeling—in spite of fact and reason—that all was well. “Long as Mistuh Bain’s at my back,” he put it, “T’s all right.” After the camp had settled, Bain moved from the shelter of the wind-break and de- scended to the water’s edge. The flood was rising but slowly, having filled Laconia Circle to the level of the river. A splash attracted the manager’s atten- tion. He stood perfectly still, and saw a small dark form approach along the margin. “Possum,” he rightly conjectured, and as the animal, which was looking at the fire above, came near, Bain literally fell upon it. The struggle was brief. Breakfast for several men was assured. He carried his quarry to camp, and woke the foreman. “Willie, we’ve got to rustle some grub. There’ll be other varmints swimming in to the mound tonight when the fire burns lower. Wake three or four good men and place ’em around the edge of the water with clubs. Tell ’em to keep still and watch close.” “Yessuh. Dis one sho’ is fat an’ fine! Robert! Oh, Bob!” He stirred the driver with his toe. ‘Git Joe an’ Channy an’ Willis Green, an’ come on.” Groaning and yawning, the night brigade was deployed by the merciless Willie. Bain sat down—for the first time since noon— and prepared to get what sleep he could. As he dozed off, a falling brand stirred the fire to a sudden, fierce, brightness. The passing flare revealed the circle of dusky sleepers, and Bain saw plainly the broad, malignant face of the strange negro over whose identity he had puzzled all day. Slanting downward across the man’s right temple ran the livid wale of a four-inch scar. A chill, bleak dawn came muffled in clinging fog. The camp-fire had been re- plenished through the night and now, as man aiter man rose yawning from his place, it was heaped high with limbs and brush. Above, through fog-rifts could be seen monotonous gray clouds hurrying south- ward. Below, swirling wisps of vapor al- ternately revealed and obscured the dark tree trunks and crept upward from the dull water like ghosts of drowned things. It was decidedly colder, with every indication of bitter weather to come. Bain’s night hunters had done well. Be- sides the ‘possum captured by the manager Kn fr BAIN®S £4 : rh WHERE BREAK, {PLANTATION is OCCURRED _f WHERE BARGE WAS WRECKED ~ MUNOIAN, MOUND there were four large swamp rabbits, four ‘possums and one coon. There was no immediate danger of starvation. Jy AFTER breakfast Bain set the ‘_ firewood squad to work, and made ‘| a thorough survey of the Mound. Just at the water’s edge on the northern slope he saw what appeared to be several pieces of fence plant, embedded in the earth. Curiosity impelled, he made examination. He found a dilapidated flat boat. The corner which had first attracted his attention was all of it above water, and six inches of sediment lay in that. The bulk of the ancient barge lay down the slope of Indian Mound, under water, and most probably deep in mud. ’ Bain now remembered that the barge had been swept from the river six years before. Since then no overflow had broken into the Circle—until the present one. The barge had been towed there by two disappointed negro trappers whose hope of reward was AS | a — (sS COMIGIOOKSEEO