Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

He was He made way, he could devise another. no common, cheap murderer. the victim do for himself. AY, Purdue.” a note that alarmed the other. What had the fellow discovered? “You know I can’t quite see this,” the city man said slowly. “I—I guess I’ve got too much of a prejudice against sui- cide. The way you put it and the way it looked to me at first, this particular in- stance seemed to show killing yourself ' as a means of saving the other fellow. “Well, ’m not specially religious, of course, but I got trained by an old minis- ter my father hired as tutor for me when I was a rather sickly kid and unfit for school. I’ve never got over believing there is a real God and that He made some pretty rigid laws. I expect I’ve bent them up a bit, like the rest of men, but “My old teacher said there was no moral difference between killing one’s self and killing somebody else. Either one was breaking the law against mur- der. Of course there are arguments for Hasting’s voice held killing a man as you would a sick dog, ~ to get him out of his misery, but we don’t do it. We haven't a right to kill our- selves to get out of our misery—not if God’s law is really solid. “Anyhow, I’m not going to do it, Pur- due. No, you need not worry about the water. I’m not going to take any more of it, not if you try to pour it down my throat. Don’t waste it trying. “T’m going back into the cabin where I can’t see that darned jug. Ill lie down and sleep, if I can, and lie still anyhow, when I can’t sleep. I don’t imagine I'll last more than a day or two if it’s going to get much worse than this, but I’d rather stand a couple of days of hell here than take any chances of it forever. I suppose there’s a little chance of my going crazy over it. If I do, just tap me over the head with the handle of that short boat-hook. Don’t be so gentle as to take a chance of my coming to again right away. Understand?” He had made enough of a speech to give Purdue time to get the answer. “Well, I said I’d go in the first place. That’s all right. I ain’t got no religious trainin’ to worry about. I ain’t goin’ to a i. - a = — ee <= ° ; “2 + ol —_ : . eg rr & es SS : <= — =. - = . SS a CO te ee ee ee” Se ee ee Ss ae eee ON ae apg ee oe ee aft A Prejudice against Suicide AI suffer no hells here to dodge them I[ ain’t ; never seen.” “If you go overboard, I'll throw that jug in after you for a life-preserver,”’ Hasting promptly countered. Then he started for the cabin hatch. “You come back here!” snarled Pur-— ce due, if I’m goin’ to set here and let a man die of thirst while I got a drop of water left. Come back here an’ take this wheel. I’m “Purdue,” said the other calmly, “Pm a trifle weak with thirst and hunger al- ready. And so, I reckon, are you. [ could have licked you when I got into your boat, and I can do it yet. You give me your word of honor that you'll stick here, or I'll beat you silly and then tie — you fast so you can’t get overboard any- how. Then I'll make you drink that water to keep you alive so you can direct my handling of the boat.” He stood over Purdue, clinging to the centerboard trunk for balance. He reached for the short boat-hook. ‘“T—I—” stammered Purdue, fright- ened by the other’s calm which might mean as thorough madness as fiercer bluster. “Promise!” ordered Hasting. “T_yes, I promise,” Purdue hurried to agree. Hasting went down the hatch. Once more he stretched himself at the forward end of the cabin, on the folds of the weather-blackened old sail. He lay so that the centerboard trunk cut off his view of that side of the cockpit Purdue occupied. He lay across the door, through the bulkhead into the space under the forward deck. | In his rage over this unexpected twist, Purdue lost the grip on himself that had kept him so long from the water-jug. Aware that the other could not see him do it, he finished its contents in two great gulps. Beside his share of the water, Purdue had drunk a half pint of whisky during the night. His thirst had become monstrous during the day, repressible only by constant recalling of the big prize to be gained by endurance. The little water in the jug seemed hardly more than an aggravation of his thirst. Of all human, physical tortures, perhaps none is more under the sway of mind and imagination than that from COMIC MOO <S