Adventure Magazine Cover — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

128 “Beware the peril that will come after the battle.” The words were so clear that Dan only stared at the speaker—the Brahmin—with an absent look, but the speech registered on his mind as he nodded and got into the coat Brendon was holding for him. The English- man was cool and steady. He said in an undertone— “Young Streator is on the watch—did you ever handle a curved blade?” Dan only nodded again, his eyes follow- ing Garth, who had started for the rear entrance with his seconds. Wheeler was not letting Garth get out of sight. His direct mind was fixed on one main issue; namely, the cause of all this danger and anxiety. Garth was the center and cause of all the bother and the peril that was hanging over his friends and wear- ing them down—then the one thing to do was to attend to Garth. He would take care of Garth himselfi—Dan Wheeler, per- sonally. He didn’t know any better than anybody else’ what the boss was up to—but to wait for the other fellow to do things to you was the sure and certain way to get licked. And the way to get your man was to go after him and get him. He would get him. He knew moreover that Garth was feeling his relentless watch and the pursuit of his never swerving eyes. It was becoming visi- bly harder for Garth to maintain his forced smile of confidence. He insisted on riding to the docks in the same carriage—three in a seat—and facing Garth with a fixed gaze. ABOARD the launch and out of faa hailing distance from the water- amy front, the small cabin was cleared. It gave a space of not more than eight by twelve feet in the clear—with a bracket- lamp in each corner giving a fairly even light. Dan, all his faculties focused on his oppo- nent, felt ‘Brendon’s hands removing his coat. He shook his head when Brendon asked if he should take his vest and gun beneath. But he never once thought of the gun or of drawing it. He was itching for the feel of the hilt in hand. “You know the guards and _ strokes?” Brendon asked quietly as he put the saber- hilt in his palm. Again Dan nodded. Eyes still on Garth’s, Wheeler hefted the Adventure blade and swung it—dropped it in position en garde before him, point forward, obliquely down and to the left with hand reversed— the exact opposite of the first position with the foils—-and he was conscious that Garth showed surprize, as well as of Brendon’s low tone of delight: “That’s ripping, old chap! Watch out for a hamstring cut inside the knee. Tear into him at the word and keep him going. Good luck!” He felt a light “‘lucky-touch”’ on his back. Brendon stepped away. Garth stood erect before him—point up, at salute. His own came up. A step for- ward—measure blades, point to hilt—back at salute. A swing toright and left—pulled short, for there was scarcely room to mea- sure space—again at salute. Eye to eye— points up and hands at chin. ““Ready—engage!”’ With a stamp of foot and clash of steel the blades met and clanged harshly. The four seconds, each in a corner under the bracket-lamps, stood crouched eagerly —ready to dodge swishing blades, and anx- ious not to miss a stroke of the deadly game. For it had been agreed that there was to be no interference or intermission—no pause until one man was ready to be dropped over- board astern with a weight attached. It was Garth’s stipulation. Dan went to work with a feeling of relief and a warm heart. He had been afraid that something might turn up to interfere. With his man before him and _ blades clashing, he only subconsciously heard Drake’s quick ejaculation of surprize and delight as he went into action. Drake, as well as Garth, had made the mistake of assuming him to be an utter novice. In the old gymnasium in New York he had: taken to singlestick and broadsword like a duck to water—had been the old master-at- arms’ favorite pupil in the growing days of boyhood when one learns a thing never to lose it. The old feel of the game came back with the swish and clash of the blades. This was action—for fair! Garth was a finished swordsman with foils or light rapier, and even with the heavy curved blade he had the advantage of constant practise—the deadly knowledge of certain tricks of the point. He was pressed too hard to try any of them now, but he would take his time. He could easily GOMIIGooOo S (© iin