Adventure Magazine Cover — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

orders. = 20 -Putnam’s ears, tuned to catch very vague =: alarms, at first passed over the awkward at- tempt at stealth of this prowler. Subcon- sciously, however, he caught up the shuffling steps and the snufflings that told him it was a bear, and began analyzing them. ‘The snuffling continued, supplemented by sounds of rooting at the foot of a tree or under a decaying log. Putnam placed his hat on a post and dropped on one knee. The animal, seemingly less cau- tious, gradually drew nearer the sentinel. Put- nam carefully located the sound and softly called out— “Who goes there?” | He had no intention that his voice should carry to the intruder’s ears, but orders were The rooting continued, also the eager snap- ping of hungry teeth. Speaking even more gently and much more rapidly than on the first call, Putnam twice repeated the challenge and fired. As he fired he leaped from the stockade with his ax in his hand. Something floundered and kicked convul- sively for a few moments, but the sounds ceased as Putnam gained the bush. He had visualized the spotin his mind and proceeded to swing wide of it in the thick darkness as if he were working in broad daylight. He passed around it, then gradually narrowed his circle, his ears on the alert. Finally something told him that his quest was ended; and, stretching out his ax, he touched something that yielded. He gave it several prods, then leaped upon it with the lightness of a lynx. At first he was filled with shame, thinking it was a bear; for his fingers had passed over the furry coat of bruin. A further sweep of his hands, however, restored his self-esteem. Step- ping aside he jerked off the bearskin and swiftly examined the naked body beneath. It was that of a gigantic Indian, and the balls from his smooth-bore had riddled the head. ; Ya “GOOD ——! It’s got Putnam!” Le yelled a frantic voice from the post. ‘“Here’s his gun and cap!’ Lights be- gan tospringup. — “Fetch out a torch and my gun, men,” called out Putnam. “I’m still alive and kicking. That’s more’n I can say of some other folks in this neighborhood.” “A French trick!’’ cried a soldier. “Ts that really you, Captain Putnam?” de- manded an anxious voice. “Tt couldn’t really be any one else,”’ dryly re- torted Putnam. “Bring a light. I’ve bagged the sentinel-killer. And bring my gun and cap.” With a whoop of rejoicing the men streamed into the bush, waving torches of bark and pitch- pine. As they came up to Putnam they cried Adventure aloud in amazement on beholding the immense bulk of the dead Indian. He was naked, oiled and painted, and armed only with a knife. “THe’s a Potawatomi,” said Putnam. “Lived out beyond the big lakes. We got three that was prowling round Fort William Henry and killing the sentinels with arrows. That’s their strong point; sneaking in and killing a man ata time. They was all big fellows. “The Mission Indians are the best reds that Montcalm has. Priests keep them under con- trol, and they’re not cannibals. But this dog!” _And in loathing he shook the torch at the stark form, hideous with its bands of black and red and yellow, with the head shaven except for the top-knot. ; With a growl of rage a soldier pulled a knif and ripped off the scalp. Putnam would have remonstrated at this trespass on his prey, but another whispered— “His brother was killed by the beast two nights ago.” “Very well. But I must have that hair. I may have use forit,’’ said Putnam. “I’m going on a scout. There'll be no trouble tonight. Don’t shoot me when I come in. [ll sing out my name. ‘This —— had a camp near here. His friends must bé waiting for him to report.” All fears dropped from the soldiers, and to a man they were keen to go with the ranger; but he refused their company, insisting it was a one-man job and that he would let them know if he needed them. Reloading his gun and taking the scalp, he used a torch in following the tracks until they brought him to the creek. Observing that they came from the west, he threw the torch into the water and began making his way up the creek, confident he would find the Indian’s compan- ions camped somewhere near the stream. Such a camp, he knew, would be small, as only a small band would venture this far south of Lake George. His progress was slow, but after two hours of travel he discerned a reddish glow ahead. Reconnoitering, he came to a little opening and all but walked upon a warrior seated with his back against a tree. Putnam had made no noise, yet some animal sense aroused the war- rior. He stood up and lifted his head, and as he glared about he sniffed the air suspiciously. On the other side of the opening was a fire, and from beyond it came the sound of wailing and groaning and diabolic yowling. At first Putnam feared some prisoner was being tor- tured, but a second thought told him this could not be, else the warrior close at hand would be back at the fire watching the sport. Laying aside his rifle and taking his ax, the ranger glided forward until the same tree shel- tered him and the sentinel. It was a pine some six feet in diameter, and with his ax drawn back S COMIC OOO GC (F@) HUES Tae} mo UR A Te