Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 127: what you’re looking at

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

The Doom Trail “There is no other plan,” he rejoined with energy. “Moreover, as my brother knows, Ta-wan-ne-ars seeks to save Ga-ha-no, too.” The hint of pain in his voice, which was never absent when he spoke of his lost love, shamed me for the instinctive selfishness which had made me concerned only with my own troubles. ‘We will not save one without the other,” I cried. ‘‘No, Ta-wan-ne-ars, do we not owe our lives as much to her as to Mar- Jory?” ‘“‘What you say is true,” he replied. “But let us not talk of what we will do until the time comes. I hope that the Great Spirit will be lenient with my Lost Soul, yet it may be her time has not come. If it has come we shall save her. If it has not Ta- wan-ne-ars will try again.” “And so will I.” “My brother is generous, as always,” he said simply. ‘Now we must tell what we have learned to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, and ar- range our plans with him.” THE Guardian of the Western Door was the center of an immense mob _ Of warriors who danced around the war-post which had been planted in the Council-Place. Man after man, chanting the deeds he had performed or those he pledged himself to in the future, rushed up and struck the post with his hatchet in token of his intent to ees In the ex- pedition. The grim face of Do-ne- ho-ga-weh was alight with the joy of battle. ‘Behold, O my son,” he called to me, “the warriors of the Eight Clans are with us. Our brothers of the Turtle, Beaver, Bear and Wolf, and our younger brothers of the Snipe, Heron, Deer and Hawk, all hun- ger for the scalps of the Keepers of the Trail. ‘‘A thousand braves will follow us on the war-path. We will give the French a les- son. They shall see the might of the Long House.” But the light faded from his features as Ta-wan-ne-ars told him of the message from Marjory. A took of cold hatred accentuated the grimness of the hooked nose and high cheekbones. ‘“‘The French dog de Veulle is wearied of Ga-ha-no,” he rasped. ‘He has had enough of the red maiden. Now he craves the white. Yes, it is well that my red nephew and my white son should go against this 117 man~who knows no laws to curb his lust. ‘He may think that I am only an Indian, but my fathers have been roy-an-ehs and chiefs for more moons than I could count in the whole of a moon. They sat beside the Founders. They took in marriage and they gave in marriage. It is time that this insult to their memory was wiped out. Let it be wiped out in a river of blood.. Then, O my nephew and my son, draw his scalp across his trail so that no man can tell he ever passed. I charge you, do not spare him.” “We will not spare him, O ha-nih,'” L promised. “Good! It shall be as you ask. Corlaer shall guide me to the Doom Trail. How many warriors are to go with your” We debated this point together, and de- cided that for purposes of swift movement and secrecy we had best restrict our escort to twenty men. Do-ne-ho-ga-weh approved this number. “Do nothing, if you can help it, until we have begun our attack,” he said. “If you must move without us, rely upon flight, for you can not hope to succeed by fighting.”’ The remainder of that day was devoted to the organization of our party and the in- struction of Do-ne-ho-ga-weh and his lieu- tenants in the geography of the Doom Trail and the bearing of La Vierge du Bois, which, it must be remembered, no hostile tongue had been able to describe until Ta- wan-ne-ars and I had escaped from the clutches of the False Faces. \ Our party mustered at dawn the next morning. It consisted of twenty stalwart young Seneca Wolves, each man selected by Ta-wan-ne-ars for strength and _ wind. Despite the chill of advancing Winter in the air they were stripped to the waist, their leather shirts rolled in packages which were slung from their shoulders. In addition to their clothing and weapons each man also carried two lengthy contrivances of wood, with hide strips laced across them. ‘“‘What are they for?” I asked as Ta-wan- ne-ars presented me with a pair and showed me how to fasten them on my back so that the narrower ends stuck up over my head. ‘“Ga-weh-ga — snow-shoes,” he replied. “In the wilderness, brother, the snow lies deep, and we should sink down at every step once the ground was covered after the first storm. You must learn how to use the DOOLK C@