Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

124 with the realization that she was my last tie with the England which would have none of me for which I hungered with the per- verse appetite of one who is denied his greatest wish. The masts and their tracery of rigging soon merged in the blue of the afternoon sky; the woods closed down around the scattered buildings of the Out Ward; and we sailed a broad channel which ran be- tween lofty heights of land, reaching hun- dreds of feet above us like the walls of some gigantic city of the future, fairer and more stupendous than the mind of man had ever dreamed on. All that afternoon we sailed with a quar- tering wind, but in the night it shifted and we were compelled to anchor. In the morning we proceeded, but our progress was slow, and with darkness we must anchor again. So likewise on the next day a storm beat down upon us from the hulking moun- tains which rimmed the wide expanse of the river called by the old Dutch settlers the Tappan Zee; and with only a rag of sail we sped for shelter under the lee of an island. On the fourth day the river bore us through a country of low, rolling hills and plains that lifted to mountainous heights in’ the distance. There were farms by the water’s edge, and sometimes the imposing mansion of a patroom with its attendant groups of buildings occupied by servants, slaves and tenants. Several times we passed villages, and occasionally a sloop similar to our own hailed us and exchanged the latest news of the river. On the fifth day toward sunset we sighted in the distance the stockades of Fort Orange, which the English were beginning to call Albany, nestling close to the river- bank under the shelter of a steep hillock. We made the tottery pier after darkness had fallen, and hastened up into the town, dele- gating to the master of the sloop and his boy the task of conveying our baggage to the tavern kept by Humphrey Taylor. Corlaer and I left Ta-wan-ne-ars at the tavern to receive the baggage, whilst we called upon Mayor Livingston. He was preparing for his bed, but on my sending up word by the slave that I carried a letter from the governor he tucked his shirt into his breeches and came down to us. From him we learned that Murray had spent but twenty-four hours in the town and was gone two days since. | Adventure “Did he say where?” I inquired curiously. Master Livingston chuckled. “He caused it to be circulated that he was going upon a round of his ‘trading-stations’ to correct some slackness which had de- veloped during his absence. ’Tis his usual excuse when he disappears.” “He was not alone?” “No. He was accompanied by a French- man and that scoundrel, Tom, ‘as well as by some misguided young female.” “She was his daughter,”’ I said. “So he said, I believe,’ agreed Master Livingston negligently. “But I am sure she is,” I insisted. “There can be no doubt——” “Then I am vastly sorry for her lot,” he replied good-humoredly. “Which way didt he go?” asked Corlaer. “The usual way. He followed the Iro- quois Trail to the Mohawk, then struck north. We have followed him so far many times; but always when our scouts have pressed the pursuit they have encountered strange bands of warriors who have killed or captured them or driven them away.” “Did you see aught of the Frenchman?” I struck in. ‘Yes; he did me the honor of calling upon me, and said he was on a mission from his King to report upon the conduct of the Government of Canada, especially with a view to the maintenance of good relations with our colonists.” “The hypocrite!” I interjected. “‘He was smooth of tongue, I grant you,” admitted Master Livingston. ‘He had the grace to acquaint me he was taking advan- tage of Master Murray’s company to se- cure protection through the frontier.” “Didt Murray hafe many men?” put in Corlaer. “Half a dozen whites of Bolling’s kind, and as many nondescript Indians who were painted like Mohicans.” “They wouldt be Cahnuagas,” amended Corlaer. “Ves,” assented the Mayor; “but if you are to go to Jagara, as the governor’s letter advises me, you need not concern yourself with Murray at this time. What do you propose to do?” “We have discussed the journey on the voyage up the river,” I replied; ‘and we are agreed ’tis best that we go first to the Seneca country, where Ta-wan-ne-ars can pick up the latest news. There we can COMmicbhook C©