Bill Barnes Air Adventurer, July 1935 — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

66 bruising his bare feet. A mangy, slink- ing dog was the only thing he encount- ered. Shorty had disappeared as completely as though a hole had opened in the earth and swallowed him up. It was incred- ible and terrifying. ‘The Frenchman who ran the hotel came running toward him with two native policemen, They had not seen a group of men. They had heard the shots and had run into the hotel, the policeman said. Noe, they hadn’t met any one “That’s when they got out,” Bill said, viciously. The police put a dragnet around the block, searching each house systemati- cally. Bill and his men watched them with sardonic eyes. But Bill didn’t give them any further information. He told his men to get dressed and ordered a cab to take them out to the field where they had left their planes the afternoon before. He had given old Charlie instructions to refuel the transport, the Scarlet Stormer and the Snorter. The Eaglet was already carrying a full load of fuel. When at five o’clock the Betsileo guide reported to him and the police had found no trace of Shorty, Bill ordered his men into the cab. He had heard the far-away drone of a multimotored plane soon after Shorty’s disappearance. He knew that plane was carrying Shorty, or what remained of him, into the hills be- yond Ankazobe THE FIEST THING that came to Shorty’s ears when he woke was the far-away beating of drums and _ the chant of human voices. He opened his eyes wide and gazed about him. When they had become accustomed to the dim light he saw that he was lying on a hard wooden cot in a high-thatched hut. The room had a narrow door at one end and a barred window at the other. At the door sat a nearly naked BILL BARNES native with a rifle across his knees. That was all Shorty saw with his first glance, because he had to close his eyes from the pain that racked him in every muscle and joint. He ran his tongue over his lips and groaned as some one daubed at his temples. When he opened his eyes again it was still dark. Rude gum flares threw gro- tesque shadows about the room. Peer- ing intently he could see that the native with the rifle was still sitting cross- legged before the doorway. “Ho!” Shorty called, weakly. The guard turned his head, his features 1m- passive. Shorty made a motion of pick- ing up a cup and drinking. After a moment of indecision the guard got to his feet and poured him a gourdful of water. He consumed it in great gulps and asked for more. When he had fin- ished it he laid back with his eyes wandering about the ceiling. The distant beat of tom-toms came to his ears again and the wild cries of hundreds of human voices swelling to a frenzy, then falling away in a staccato chant. The glows from many fires lighted the heavens outside the narrow door and twisted the long rows of thatched huts and brick buildings into fantastic shapes. Suddenly a voice sounded from a bunk at the other end of the room. A bunk Shorty had thought was unoccu- pied. The diction of that voice and the way it spoke chilled Shorty’s body as though he had suddenly been shaken with fever. His mind flashed back. Memories floated before his vision like an unreal, fantastic procession of time. He pressed his finger nails into his body to see 1f he was dreaming. The voice came again. A voice he had known a million years ago. For a moment some- thing cataleptic held him motionless. He could not move. Commanding all of his will he slowly turned his head. oO Col Ghook CO