Adventure, November 1915 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

= Tees ns Sie er rer Seti a oes SE a ~ The Road’s End He was coming out of the post laundry shortly after retreat, which was also shortly after supper, and an unusual hour for a sol- dier to be out of the compound. He closed the door gently behind him, for a Chinaman was asleep inside, started forward, checked himself, and froze in his tracks. A white man’s voice, a very nervous undertone, was coming from the direction of the coolies’ quarters. “Even money, then, on the field. If you can’t do any better. It’s a sure thing, any- way. But you ought to get odds.” “No can do.” Doran recognized that voice; it belonged to Chang, head coolie of the quartermaster gang. “We got best team. Me bet two thousand éael, they bet two thousand iéael, all lite. They no bet more. You sure sure thing. Me lose two thousand, tael, buhau!”’ “Haven’t I told your How can they win? And remember, we split even. It’s my idea. One thousand you, one thousand me. Understand?” There was a muttered word in Chinese, evidently an affirmative. “That’s all, then. I’m going.” There was the shuffle of receding foot- steps and the sound of leather-shod ones ap- proaching. The white man passed within six feet of Doran. It was Haskell! “WHAT’S the matter, Doran?” j @ ‘asked Nichols the next morning on “um the way to the Tifle-range. “You're iooking pretty dopey.” “Nothing the matter with me,” retorted Doran with a flash of his old spirit. “Lost a little sleep last night, that’s all. Say, I was going to ask you something. Has any- body ever tried to make a clean-up here, betting on the match. I mean, crooked. One of the team pulling his shots, or some- thing like that.” . “Tt was never known,” said Nichols grimly. ‘And it had better not be, for the . sake of the parties concerned. Why?” “Well, I just got to figuring last night how the thing might be done. Oh, not by anybody on the team. I know better than that. But there’s the rifles and the am- munition. One scratch of a file inside the muzzle of a rifle the night before the match —you know what that would mean. Or, a dozen bullets loosened in their cartridges, a - dozen zero scores. about it.” I just got to thinking ~ xs “— a eee ype we es : =a Se ee + -. =ese hh _— eee 77 “Any reason to suspect any one?’ asked Nichols. “No,” lied Doran instantly. “But—” “Pm glad you spoke to me about it,” said Nichols. “But the rifles will be tested the day before the match; and I’ve already instructed the team to sling them under their bunks that night. So there’s no dan- ger there. And as for the ammunition——”’ “Listen!” said Doran hurriedly. “It’s the ammunition ’m most worried about. It’s in the magazine now, with a thousand other boxes. The day of the match the ey > quartermaster’s coolies will select a box of it, and move it with the rest of the stuff to~ the range. Supposing one of the sentries that’ll be on from now to then should jimmy a box, and then mark it in some way, so Chang could pick it out.” “Then Chang would have to be in it, too.” — “Hemight. He’s fat on cumshaw already; - he could make the stakes big enough for two.” “T hadn’t thought of that,” admitted Nichols, ‘‘Pretty far-fetched, isn’t it? But [ll admit it’s possible. I suppose the answer is to pick out the ammunition now, and put it where it’ll be safe.” “Yes. Say the C. O.’s office.” “Tl see the range-officer about~it this afternoon,’”’ Nichols promised. “T can’t think of anything else, can you?” pondered Doran. “Not outside of kidnaping, and ~we’re - all pretty husky infants,” laughed Nichols. “Don’t you worry. We’re going to shoot and we’re going to win, and the man that bets against us will lose his money.” 0) NICHOLS didn’t take much stock (a) in the warning; he heeded it only = to please Doran, the broken old soldier, and Doran knew this. He could even feel a trace of pity in Nichols’ attitude, Two months before, this would have mad- — dened him; but by now he had gone far toward self-forgetfulness. Nothing seemed to matter much but the success of. the American team. Even the tormenting thought of resistlessly encroaching old age seemed like a dream to him now. His only terror was the knowledge that when the reality of this work had passed, the dream would come again. Meanwhile he was earning = freedom. There is no interest so stimulating as an * Py: Se S Gomichoo a