Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 152: what you’re looking at

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

142 the powder charges set by the Moreys earlier in the day, crumpled—the platfronr with its living and dead sliding forward into the waters of the pool where the body of the serpent god writhed in agony and the crocodile horde began champing into ‘shapeless masses the sacrifices of the gods of the gallery. The giant bamboo bent lower its feathery head, to snap suddenly back into place as Lieutenant Morphy was landed safe and sound beside his father. For a moment the detachment watched the bedraggled survivors frantically scale the ragged tim- bers of the shattered altars of the Kati- punan and disappear into the depths of the tunnel. The last to enter was the Jamaica negress, still waving the glistening knife. A whispered command from the adjutant and the detachment worked its way slowly back to camp, Young Spud treading closely on the heels of the rear man. They joined the patrol in time to catch the remnants of the Katipunan conclave hurrying from the tunnel’s mouth (hidden inside the church) and to hold them herded until a thorough search of the underground pas- sages could be made. The major and the two Moreys had dropped to the mouth of the tunnel and were already working through it. They crept quietly to the rocky bowl where the big female python still sat coiled on her cone of eggs, immovable, unblinking, in the center of her progeny of many years. The Moreys still carried the black battery and there was enough powder and gun- cotton left in the satchel to finish the job. While the major and Peter Morey stood guard Ray set his petard. By this time Young Spud, who had fully recovered from the effects of the drug, was working with a detachment from the church end of the tunnel. He had not noticed the absence of his father and the two Moreys and it came as a second shock when he heard his father’s voice bellowing down the cavern: “Git a hump on ye now, the pair o’ yez, and don’t be fussin’ with thot con- traption any longer.”” Came the major into view, and Peter Morey. In the joy of reunion, father and son walked quietly toward their quarters in the wee hours of the morning, unmindful of the fact that Ray Morey was not with his brother when the latter had saluted and said good night. Adventure The rising sun was heralded as usual next -morning, by Tommy Rice’s bugle; for rain or shine, battle or peace, happiness or misery, Uncle Sam’s soldiers go unceasingly through all the motions laid down by the Blue Book. Already the major was up and on his way to headquarters. He had a report to get off. He’d stopped the sacrifice all right, but he’d hurt a few of the ‘“‘little brown brothers” in doing it. It would take some explaining and he wanted to get at it. The last note of the bugle was still teasing the ears of the sleepy privates, when an explosion that rocked the post to its founda- tions, jarred every one from their slumbers. The startled sentries, facing toward the center of disturbance, saw the smoke and caught. the whistle of the falling pieces of lava as the bottom of the old deserted quarry just beyond headquarters settled over the surrounding landscape. They saw pieces of what they thought was a cable hurtling through the air, and hundreds of shorter, smaller objects that writhed and twisted as the inhabitants of the python’s bow] followed the shattered body of Kao’s consort in upward flight, to descend and slowly coil and quiver till the evening sun dropped behind the distant hiils. An hour later Ray Morey strolled non- chalantly up headquarters steps, a small black box held carefully under his arm. He knew what had caused the explosion and who, but he was asked no questions and vouchsafed no explanations. He was taking no chances. “Mr. Miles, Mr. Miles!’ The major, again “Old Spud,” now that his boy was out of danger and with no threat of court- martial hanging over him, began his morn- ing outburst. There was a rap at the door, and Private Ray Morey entered the room. “Will, whot in are ye doin’ here? Tis the adjutant I want, not the likes o’ ye. Git out o’ here—zgit out o’ here quick, before I remember where I lift ye last night! Git a hump on ye now! Git-t I say!” Private Morey, in his anxiety to flee the storm, attempted to salute and make an ‘about face” at the same time.” The result was disastrous to himself and to the major’s temper. ‘There, there, me bye, as ye were. Don’t be gittin’ rattled just because ye was the cause of a beautiful young snake a-tyin’ cComicoooks (C@