Adventure Magazine Cover — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

64 “Ts it not that I shall show you the pretty rings, ma petite?” Gaspard screwed his ugly visage into what was meant to be an ingratiating smile. He opened his pack forthwith and began to exhibit some of his spurious wares. Jacqueline’s instinct toward per- sonal adornment had been bequeathed to her, through direct maternal lineage, by Mother Eve. “Comme elles sont jolies!” she breathed ecstatically. Gaspard selected one of the gilt baubles and slipped it on her finger, standing back a pace and gazing upon the girl with the fond expression of a gargoyle. “How much, m’sieu’?” asked Jacqueline. “Only a kiss, ma petite,” croaked Gaspard, his voice thick with alcohol and passion, stepping suddenly close to her and seizing her hand. The girl’s face blanched under its tan. Violently she tried to wrench herself from the pedler’s bear-like clasp. Gaspard laughed exultantly and caught her more firmly about the waist, thrusting his black- bearded physiognomy, redolent with the fumes of alcohol, into the pretty, terrified little face. Jacqueline screamed and fought, infuriated, using her nails and teeth. “Pardieu! Is this that thou art as a young she-bear?” grumbled Gaspard, quick- ly loosing his hold. With a smothered oath he took up his pack again, glanced apprehensively over his shoulder at Papa Dupré coming through the doorway of the blind pig and ignoring the pathway, plunged into the tangled area of spruce and underbrush and faded from view. After proceeding a couple of hun- dred yards he took the flask from his pocket, treated himself to a long pull, and then, breaking recklessly into an amorous ditty, he continued plowing his way through the brush and muskeg, slapping hilariously at the black-flies with his cap. Jacqueline pulled the worthless ° trinket from her finger, hurled it with vehemence after the pedler’s retreating form and then, sobbing in fright and humiliation she turned and rushed into her father’s arms. “Ma paurrel ma paurrel” Papa Dupré kept repeating comfortingly. ‘‘Name of a name of a name of a dog! What did he then, petite?” Meanwhile a bark canoe had glided to the shore. A young man, black-haired, Adventure black-mustached and as straight and lithe as one of the encircling spruce trees, stepped out. His rifle and a pack he transferred to dry land and then, bending over the big canoe, with a single deft movement he swung it on high over his head, carried it a few paces and then set it carefully down, bottom up, in the shade. —yierre!” ss Pierre Lalange knew only one voice in the world that held a note like that—and he came, running. In vain Papa Dupré begged his daughter to keep silence. Jacqueline transferred her head to Pierre’s shoulder for additional consolation and the story of the pedler’s insult was presently sobbed into his ear. Pierre Lalange said little. Jacqueline, unwound her arms from his shoulders, carried his pack up to Dupré’s blind pig and then came back and picked up his rifle. “Pierre!” called Papa Dupré appealingly. The young coureur de bois, unheeding the call, turned and strode into the forest. ‘‘Parbleul”’ cried Dupré, throwing up his hands. Ill BY TWO o’clock in the afternoon Dalton had gained three miles to the westward of Carmichael’s camp. He sat down upon a boulder and flicked viciously with his handkerchief at a swarm of black-flies that kept circling about his perspiring face with exasperating persis- tence. Out of the wealth of sunlight that streamed upon the western horizon came a | Ke vee ©) 3) a # | 76434 Nan ee, sharply silhouetted figure traveling toward’ him Dalton stepped quickly within the pro- tectiveness of the spruce-trees that fringed the right of way and waited. Mechanically he loosened his automatic from its holster under his leff arm-pit and made sure that it was in readiness for a sudden draw. The man seemed to be proceeding rapidly notwithstanding the treacherous nature of the pathway, obstacled as it was with rock and root and muskeg. Dalton dis- cerned something that looked like a pack on his back and watched the approacher intently. The shortening distance at last revealed the secret of the traveler’s rapid gait; it was that peculiar jog-trot affected by the postmen of the wilderness. Disappointedly ecomiclsoolks He kissed | (C@