Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

802 did not reply in words. Lolling back in that first boat of eight which were making up the wide, mud-yellowed river in a lone line, he threw out a careless hand toward that border of the great stream which was the nearer—a border all of low-sweeping branches that reached down like arms to- ward the fairly swift water, and of trailing vines and creepers, laced and braided. The native boat, fully twenty-five feet long. but hewn out of a single tree, now turned its lifted and sharply pointed nose toward the jungle on the left, Goboh hav- Ing sung out a word to the seven half naked mien who manned the craft. That word was of warning, for the prau, heavily loaded, had its gunwale perilously close to the dun-colored current, and skill was required of the paddlers to turn even slightly across the strong flow into water which was mak- lig seaward less swiftly. Barker was a slight, short man of per- haps thirty, whose face, sunburned and pockmarked, was nearly as dark as the face of his Malay crew. His eyes were dark, too, and even the white of them was streaked. They were quick, keen eyes, which darted about in a nervous, inquiring, suspicious way. Yet Barker seemed to be continually smiling, this because his thin lips, except when he was smoking, were habitually drawn away from over his small, uneven teeth. As at his silent command the first of the little fleet had veered away from the rapid center of the river to calmer water, one by one the other seven praus followed suit. In the front of the second sat a striking figure, heavy, shapeless, voluminously dressed, silent and immovable. This was a woman, veiled to her eyes, which roved con- stantly from side to side. Why she had been brought along, not even Barker him- self knew—except that, as Goboh had stated, she was a holy person, having ‘‘made the pilgrimage,” and it was certain that if she was one of the expedition, her company, taken with all the other omens —which had been favorab!e—would ensure the success of the trip. What the third boat carried, in addition to nine strong paddlers, was designed, not so much to add to the matter of success, as ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. to that of pleasure. For the ostensible, though not actual, freight of the praz con- sisted of a collection of conical baskets in each of which crouched, or perched, a fight- ing cock. The morning heat was growing; made drowsy by it, as well as by the motion of the craft, the birds were silent. The next three canoes of the line held no other persons except the members of the crews, being loaded with luggage and provisions, the rice and other sacked edibles, as well as the various bags and suit cases, being well covered and completely hidden by heavy tarpaulin. The seventh prau had a passenger—Mr. Chichester Wray, a stocky gentleman, who, like Barker, was dressed in white, topped by a helmet. But his skin marked him as a stranger to the tropics. <As he sat, as quiet and humped over as the fighting cocks themselves, his blue eyes were half closed against the glare of the sun on the river. Resting on his knees and hancy to his grasp, were a pair of automatic pistols. The boat which was the last one of the long line was the only one fitted with a covered cabin. Under this cabin and sway- ing with the motion of the canoe, sat a voung womaa, her dress, white and of some thin material, glimmering in the shadow under the graceful ogee, or double-curved roof. A wide hat of palm fibre lav in her lap. Her gray eyes gave close attention to every feature of the scene which changed with every advance of her splendidly made and ornately carved native craft. As this last prau of the eight fell into line closer to the jungle-set shore, there was a sudden sound of scraping, as the over- hanging vines and branches came into con- tact with that curved roof. And instantly, hearing the sound, the man in the boat ahead, taking care not to move too quickly In a boat that was closely trimmed, turned his head to call back. ‘“ Kwong!” he shouted. ‘ You! ing there! Keep farther out!” This had already happened, for the steers- man of the last praz, who was the only Chinese of the expedition, had already swung the boat outward an arm’s length, the crew paddling furiously to avoid down hanging greenery just ahead. Steer- CO GIOok