Adventure, August 3, 1919 — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

ae aD > ee es on * s * ~ ae _ and bowing satirically to the doctor. “For _ _God’s sake, buck up! I’m neither drunk mor crazy! But, Lord, you're the first entertainment I’ve had for twelve moons! Fourteen moons! Moon! Moons! Moons! Nothing but moons! Wilde knew little about moons to what I know! I’ve _ watched; I’ve studied; I’ve wooed—every | . ; of course, but—” to watch at the gurgle of liquid. know, Doc, old pal, I’m so bloody one of the fourteen moons!” “Sit down!” said the doctor sharply. “Bh.” The tall figure wheeled toward him. “Sit down, and we'll have a drink. But don’t get excited.” “Excited! You dear old duck, I haven’t had such a time since ma died!” _ The hat went careering wildly through the moonlight, turned a somersault and settled drunkenly on one rim. Warren- Dukely dragged his chair a foot, lumped into it and caught his hand to his eyes. “Sorry, old man; Fl be good. Fire ahead with that drink though.” Then in a dreary voice as the doctor pulled out the flask, “You know you haven’t an idea as to what this means to me. One gets used to anything in life. But—vwell, I did want to speak to a white man once more. Tribal, He dropped his hand You glad to I feel like a bally woman wel- see you! - comin’ her lover an’ all that sort of thin’. — alin. - ad é rt liquor at a draft. Tm glad, but I guess you ain’t.’’ “Here, drink this, and you'll feel better,” said the doctor, proffering the screw-cap. Thanks!” Warren-Dukely gulped the “Lord, how it bites! Now you have a drink, an’ I’ll try to tell you what sort of a picnic you’re in for. Oh, thanks a million times!” © He accepted the cigar, lighted it with a brand, leaned back and puffed reflectively. The distant anthem pulsed steadily. A night-bird squawked persistently. The faint vibration of the drum just reached them. After lighting his cigar, the doctor said quietly: “You know, Dukely, I can’t quite realize “Of course, you can’t! It’s taken me twelve moons to realize it. Oh, those oons.”’ ~ ae oo I mean there must be some way ra it o it. ut ¢ We can’t be murdered by these _ “Tobject, ladmit.” The throaty chuckle i ary ft . i. ~~ S ty ” ot 4 , Pos Pd co) ‘ * §% . “2 os <.- —~ Phe “Bree: of Life hie > ae Pg tL i o e Ps + » 17! was repeated. “Now let me tell you, an’ then you'll understand, Ill guarantee. Er. H’m. My mind’s foggin’ again. Oh, yes, I know.” ' He stared up at the sinister boughs of the giant tree. The eyes hardened. The nervous twitching of the fingers began again. “Yes, I think I can do it. You need it, anyhow—to understand.” He leaned forward, kicked the embers of the fire into a blaze and plunged abruptly: “T told you how they caught me, eh? With the same trick of apparent friendliness. Invited me to the show, y’know. Very well. Two days before that drum there began. Sound physiological idea. Works ’em up. All right. On the openin’ night I was led here an’ given an orchestra stall while the orchestra was tunin’ up. Same moon. Same tree. Whole crowd of ’em here. Mumblin’ an’ chantin’ just beyond there in the open space. Old chief on his bally throne thing an’ the young ’un. Master of ceremonies—your pal— Yes, I'll bet he’s been your special friend, eh? With his head-dress—looked like a lord mayor’s hat. “Well, whole bunch of young girls an’ my illustrious predecessor, the King of the Wood. He sat beneath the tree there just outside the gate. Of course, I didn’t twig the game—then. D’you see ’em in the moonlight? Then that drum- ming—all the time—persistent—seemed to get in your bally head, y’know, or your veins—heart. I felt excited myself. Seen various-sort of dances before an’ all that. But—somehow this was different. Real thing, I suppose. “Sort of thing they never do for white men except when they’re—they’re to be the piéce de résistance, yknow. But I didn’t. They had told me somethin’ about the principle of the thing: the marriage of the husband person—a great big devil by the way, more negro than these people. Came from the Kameroons, I believe; prisoner of war. They have an amusing idea that the bigger the man the more the lady—I mean the tree—is pleased. More power, Isuppose. Of course, white man an’ white magic an’ all that. “Well, they kept up this —— drum- ming an’ wrigglin’ about—usual witch- doctor business—for the devil of a time. Drinkin’ all the time native beer, y’know. Baad d © ries ta ae r 2 —