Adventure Magazine Cover — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

Lights of Peace top of his slid in between his fingers. ‘“‘Look me in the eye, ”” said she, “and tell me you don’t love me.’ “T cuc-can’t,” he muttered in a panic. “Then why are you going away?” Her voice was gentle, gentle and wistful. “Because yo’re rich now; that’s why,” he 93 replied thickly, the words wrung out in a rush. ‘You got lots 0’ money, an’ I ain’t got nothin’ but my hoss an’ what I stand up in. How can I love you, Molly?” 7 “Lean over here and I’ll show you how,” said Molly Dale. And she did. THE END ; “ ~~ eae? ln he eae LiG HTS OF” EACE b Kenneth Gilbert Author of “The Man Who Could Read Static.” E WERE pacing the deck and dis- cussing the perfidy of nations. I walked with Harmon because, of the three hundred or more per- VW sons aboard the Pawtucket on this Alaskan cruise, he was the only one I had really come to know; I talked with him because I had found him singularly well-informed and because the odd assignments that had_ been his ten years as a wireless operator had given him insight of unusual incidents. The international trend of our discourse was suggested by a press dispatch that had just been flashed to the Pawtucket from a wireless station to the south. The dispatch tersely told of how one of the great powers, _ in the process of realigning world boundaries, had forced a crisis through occupying a territorial point by rather bland stealth. It was night, and the lee gangway where we paced was dark, save that the faint light from stars littered chilly in the vitreous- like hardness of the sky. And yet, as we walked, the darkness began to soften as if dawn approached. From where we were, all save a segment of the eastern sky was shut off from view by the deck above. Yet, although this was my first trip north, I was not unlearned. “The midnight sun!” I guessed tri- umphantly. Harmon merely grinned and took my arm, leading me to the upper deck. He pointed north. “Miss Aurora Borealis,” he said as if in introduction. I saw that which is vouchsafed only those who get near the top of the world, for the northern lights one knows in the softer latitudes are but a washed-out counterpart of the glorious spectacle of the arctic ap- proaches. Great fingers of multi-colored light groped for the zenith; beams from mighty search- lights, focused from the pole, turned and twisted in search of something they never found. Gigantic rays dissolved into blue, green, red, golden and an infinite variety EOMICL OO CS (E(O)