Adventure, August 3, 1919 — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

a lll > ‘4: Snes wason the verge of last, ature came to whistle, sil, met sconfined. The whistle~ died out, but the walls had been pierced. There came the clang of bells. Crawson had heard bells like that before. Where? Oh, yes, to be sure—in the engine-room on a ship. That’s where he had heard those bells. They were signals to the engineer. The invisible walls around Crawson were shattered. He now heard clearly. A voice of authority was giving commands. But where was he, Crawson? Where had he come from? How had he come to be here so close to a ship and yet not on the ship? He opened his eyes. A long blade of light slanted down on him and revealed his raft of logs, coconuts piled at one end and water allabout. Ah, yes, he knew then. He had been lost at sea on a raft. He had faJlen asleep, and this was a ship come to rescue him. At last he would get off of the raft and feel the comfort and certainty of know-" ing where he was. . + bd af, . a. al =o es . oe - Day- Dreams — «rt 105 The life-boat was alongside of his raft. Crawson’s jewel box, as usual, was roped to his shoulders. He scrambled to his hands and knees and crawled stiffly to the edge of the raft. He was weak, exhausted. The sailors helped him gently into their boat and then aboard the ship. Hours later Crawson awoke in a bunk in the forecastle. He moved, and there was a clank of chains. His wrists and his ankles were in irons. Crawson held up his man- acled hands and demanded of the sailor across from him: “What the does this mean?” “Tt means that the skipper’s hada look into that little teak-wood box,”’ responded the sailor, “‘and he’s decided that you're Crawson, the fellow who’s been leadin’ Moros and lootin’ down around Zambo- anga.” “What right has this skipper got to be nosing into my belongings?” snarled Craw- son. “Say, son,” grinned the other. “You're aboard of a United States revenue cutter.” Crawson turned his back to the sailor, ‘There was nothing more to be said. ‘3 DAY-DREAMS_. see LINCOLN "LONG about this time of year, when the city’s hot, Feller seems to lose his head—cusses quite a lot. "Tain’t as if he’d never lived out where things are big— Seven years at ridin’ range sometimes gives a dig! Down the coulée, leathers squeakin’, N-Bar’s ridin’, work all through. All of God’s free air above ’em, Sunset crimsonin’ before ’em, Purple sagebrush hills about ’em— Gosh! I’d like to be there, too! Cook, he yells, “Come on ’n’ git re Sees ’em comin’ up the crick. Twistin’ dust cloud rollin’ homeward, ‘Twenty ponies tearin’ homeward, s All the old gang racin’ homeward— - Gee, but clerkin’ makes me sick! er ‘Huh? What’s that about a shipment? Fourt 5 . McKirk? - << _ Well, s'long, you N-bar fellers; me, I’ve got to go to work. aS ane i <T" «a ee ipo aaa cll oe ana er eo ali a —_ “4 — =