Adventure Magazine Cover — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

- must be Willis. The head was slumped for- ward on the breast and the whole body seemed to be sagging heavily. “Is he already dead?” she asked with a half-- strangled cry. ‘“‘He’s tuckered out. He sleeps,” whispered Putnam, scowling at the débris between them and the edge of the camp. “We're on the wrong side to attempt anything. We must go back and cross the mouth of the gorge and crawl along in the timber on the other side. “See, they have their faces blacked. They haven’t commenced on him yet.” More fuel was cast on the fire and the flare of the flames lighted the camp brilliantly. It also aroused the prisoner, who slowly lifted his head and stared around at the warriors. Seeing that he was awake, an Indian ran ‘to him and seized one of his hands which was tied ae his side. He bent over it to bite off a finger- nail. The girl groaned as she guessed the horrid purpose and cocked her gun. Putnam thrust a finger under the hammer that she might not dis- charge it. But the prisoner’s feet, while tied to the stake, were not so tightly secured as to prevent his drawing up his leg. His left knee came up and smashed heavily into the face of his tormentor. With a scream of rage the warrior staggered back, blood pouring from his mouth and nose; and he would have knifed Willis then and there had not some of his companions seized him and dragged him away. In the bright firelight Put- nam observed that his young friend’s face was haggard; but. the pose of the uplifted head was as confident and bold as ever. “They ain’t touched his nerve yet,” his: pered Putnam. ‘Do you hear that loon?” The girl nodded, still watching the prisoner. ‘Well, don’t get nervous when I give a loon call. The Indians won’t notice it as that loon’s been crying out for some time.” He waited a moment, then threw back his head and gave the weird call of the loon. The girl kept her gaze fastened on Willis and saw his head give a little jerk. Then it slowly sank on his breast only to be lifted high the next moment. “He heard. He understands. He signals to us that he knows we are near,” she murmured. “*Course he knows. That’s why I run the risk. I wanted to put lots of heart into him so he won’t bait them into killing him outright. He knows I’m here and that Ill shoot him be- fore I'll let them kill him by inches. Now to get on the other side.” They moved rapidly, satisfied that no scouts were back of the ridge. The danger point would be when they crossed the trail leading into the gorge. To escape any outposts they moved back a quarter of a mile into the deep woods before ~The Bushfighters discovered, and it was plain that the Potawat- omi had no fears of being discovered by any enemy. They were traveling parallel to the ‘ied and toward the gorge when the sweep of scurrying feet through the dead leaves in a copse of maple and beech alarmed them. Putnam reached out a hand and swung the girl behind him and at-. tempted to penetrate the:darkness and discover ~ what this extraordinary peril could be. For danger it must be, although it was not like the patter of moccasins, nor was there the usual savage outcry advertising the discovery of a vic- tim. This alarm was more like a drove of ani- mals rushing through the woods. “It can’t be wolves at this time of year,” . whispered Putnam. “Dogs! The Blind Seneca’s dogs!” exclaimed the girl under her breath. “Up a tree, quick! They know me and will not harm me.” “Dogs!” snapped Putnam. “I’d look pretty sealing a tree to get away from a parcel of ogs!” “Don’t talk,” she begged. “Up a tree! These are worse than mad wolves. I vow candles. Our Lady help us!” Putnam was far from being foolhardy, and the girl’s great fear warned him that this was no common forest danger approaching. Reaching above his head, he located a big branch; and, dropping his gun, he tossed the girl upon it, Then, recovering his weapon, he swarmed up the trunk. He had barely settled himself in the crotch of a mighty limb when the ground beneath him be- came alive with motion. He heard the sinister snaps leaping high to get at him, and he could picture the slavering jaws and cruel fangs. “Don’t shoot,” warned the girl. “The Blind Seneca must be close at hand. But what of Ephraim Willis? What are they doing to the poor lad now? I must go to him.” He felt the bough give and heard her mocca- sins strike the ground in the midst of the jumble below. Without any hesitation he pulled his ax and leaped after her. “They’re muzzled. Don’t hurt them,” she cried out as he grasped a throat and felt a hot breath in his face and raised his ax. Then he realized that, although several forms had leaped against him, the very pressure of the pack holding him erect, he had felt no teeth. “Stand perfectly still,” she warned. “They remember me. They pay no attention to me.” Next he heard her tearing a branch from a tree. ~ She waded among the brutes, switching them smartly and talking softly in the Seneca tongue. The big brutes whined and persisted in leaping upon the ranger for a bit, then heeded her voice and whip and finally squatted in a circle about her. “Now I think they will stay here till their CORDICLOO© Sj ~ = tg a bag Fore ow \ ays . ss - io ; bs ig > a y * ry ~. 5. r oy ¢ i : turning to cross the trail. No sentinels were - (E@ TH ©, ee << ~* Mee ag al - eo a a te ~ * dee sys * Sat ‘ ~~ 4 ~ “23e a ee Pt ne - 4 pe * : ‘ “ ad ie —— 3 a5 € i t 2 AS hy a, % eke oo ae ree rd r ie 2he nde te ee Tie “ 1d +s TL eles. a . «See Kiy RO ee eee ef type! 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