Adventure, February 1917 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

BOX. On second thoughts, he would not. The - talisman might fail, with these beefy brutes of captains and evgineers who didn’t know how to treat a genius when they had one in their company. “He thinks a lot of that bellowing shout of his,” thought Harold, “cultivated it to carry half a mile; and my voice——’”’ The tears came into his eyes, as they of- ten did when he thought of his own genius. “My voice—it’ll sound across all the ~ world. It'll sound after they’re dead and gone, and after I am. And they treat me like a dog.”’ They did not. Both the captain and the engineer had a knowledge ‘of dogs, and a fine respect for them. Harold drifted off by himself under the great calophyllum tree, where the ivory and yellow blossoms had fallen in sheets of scented snow a few months ago. They were gone now; but the beautiful arch of green remained, curving over the sea-water and dipping long fingers in the foam. “Neither of them could appreciate that to save his life,” thought Harold; and the idea gave him some comfort—which. might — have been less had he known that all the Campbells were noted and judicious picture- - buyers, while the engineer of the Diamond took the most artistic photographs that had > ever been seen in New Guinea. ' Campbell, walking swiftly up to the house _ again, was met on the veranda by a small figure in a khaki suit, its hair tightly bound underneath a cowboy felt hat, a revolver from Slade’s store dangling beside its amaz- ingly slender waist. “Captain Campbell, Tait: said, ‘ have set us spinning down the ringing - grooves of change today, and organized an expedition to go and give the Jamieson I Is- landers gyp, I suppose you are in com- mand. So I thought it well to ask your permission to bring my butterfly net and boxes. I always take them on patrol. They ~ are really no weight, but if you don’t want them, you have only to speak.” = You can not surprise a naval officer; as soon try to frighten him. Captain Camp- bell looked at the puttees and boots, the. revolver, cartridge-belt and knife, with an expression of cool interest. “Always—on patrol?” he said. ‘Then I take it that you do this sort of thing pretty frequently?”’ “What sort of thing, Captain Campbell?” =; ‘since you. Adventure -” “Legs. Very good legs, too,” he added incidentally. “Oh, yes, I’ve been brought up as a boy, practically, Captain Campbell. Pups was so disappointed at not having a son—and mum was dead—so he made a boy of me. I’ve been on lots of his punitive expeditions, and I know how to take cover and reserve my fire till I’m told.” “Adventures?” “Ever so many,’ offering to tell them. Captain Campbell, who had in his day suffered more than enough of the torments that afflict the brave and modest man con- strained to listen to boasting of half-baked adventurers, nodded approval. “How do you keep your side-arms?” he said. Murua unslung the revolver and un- sheathed the knife. “Good,” said the captain, inspecting them. “You're a little soldier, my dear. How old are you?” “Sixteen and three - quarters,” Murua. “Then I mustn’t call you ‘my dear,’ must LP”? * “T think you had better call me Murua,” was the young girl’s answer. ‘‘Everybody does.” ‘Well shot,’”” thought the captain. Then aloud, “What does Murua mean?” “The name of the island where IT was born.” = TPs a es name.” “Tt’s rather a custom in Papua. I always think it’s a pity that Harold here—” indi- cating the young singer, who had toiled up the path considerably behind Campbell— replied “wasn’t born in Samarai.”’ “Why?” asked Harold injudiciously. _ “Because they might have called you Samarai—and that would have been sin- gularly appropriate, since the other name of the place i is Dinner Island.” . The captain, who had seen Harold at table, burst out laughing, and suddenly checked himself. ‘ “This won’t get us on,” he said, “and we have to get away for your Jamieson Island ’ said Murua, without. immediately after lunch. Miss Murua, you « _ may take your nets and boxes, and I shall -be happy to have yourself; you'll be worth two men to us, knowing the country as you do. Mr. Harold Page, I’m sending the Dia- fond to Rossel to fetch Mr. Jennifer, but if >! Fe “aR ~ CONNIE S (EO) 0)(0)(0)