Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

8 Adventure the Schoolmaster lay where he had fallen, groping with his hands, fearful of the next moment which must surely bring the ex- plosion of the powder in the store. A hand fell upon his face—a wet hand; and Nell Clark’s voice laughed, unafraid though a trifle shaky. “Your face feels like a living man’s-face, Schoolmaster, yet the smell is that of ! Art living, or dead?’’ “Tf you live, then I suppose I am living too,” he replied with a laugh little less shaky than her own. “Yet I too thought I smelled the brimstone of Tophet. ”*T'was a good jest the rogue turned on us. Id like to shake him by the flipper, whoever he is.” “Better shake such as he by the throat,” she retorted. ‘‘But see what is outside. Such a blast must surely have left its mark, since it has passed over us, and missed— But, how’s this? The hut leans crazily.” “Tt does. That’s one thing the blast did. ‘Let me look.” The window was wedged tightly by the leaning cornerwise of the hut, but a good- sized splinter was gone, and through it could be seen the outside, still dark with settling dust, dispersing smoke and flying débris. An enormous hole yawned at the hut’s corner where Davies peered forth, the hut was settling still deeper into it, and above the edge of the hole, which was roof high, frowned scores of bleeding, malignant faces. “Starve out the rats,” shrieked Rando, rendered doubly hideous now by the gun- powder streaks down his pallid face and by a matted patch of bloody hair drooping over one eye. Doggett raised his grimly battered head above the rim of the crater- and vetoed the suggestion fiercely. “Starve ’em?” he jeered. ‘Will they starve in three days, or six? John Cook will be here surely before they starve to death; then how do we fare? The pigeons will fly free, and we shall taste the captain’s bitter vengeance. “No! Gather fagots. Roll ’em down upon the hut from here. Set fire to the pile, my bold lads, and we'll lay back in yonder grove and watch the fireworks over our beef and rum. And who shall tell John Cook that the hut was burned by other than mishap, or that the woman and the School- master met with other than accident?” Inside the dark and sulfurous hut the Schoolmaster put aside all-pretence and became the quick-thinking, stern man of emergency. Nell Clark, too, who might have been forgiven in the circumstances for showing a trace of feminine uneasiness, showed up in her true character as a woman who, choosing to join with men in the rough- est of men’s professions, could play the man with the best of them. ‘The next jest promises to be funnier than the last,” she remarked. “Shall we burrow beneath the upper wall? Shall we try the main door and rush it? Or does your notion of a jest include our staying to be slowly roasted before. being blown into sausage- meat?” ‘“That’s no idea for a merry jape, Nell,” he laughed shortly. “But neither is it wise to do things in haste—even with an ex- plosion of ten tons of powder imminent. “Wait. We'll rest while they sweat-at their fagots. Then when they’ve piled all their fuel they’ll set themselves on that side to enjoy the new barbecue, and we’ll dig out on the other side and watch, in our turn, how these rufhans enjoy our translation to Paradise, as they imagine.” He surveyed all sides as well as limited vision allowed and remarked, scarcely be- lieving ‘such luck to be possible: “They seem to be sure we’ll break for the window or door, Nell. I see none but a couple of rogues keepin’ watch among the trees, and they look as if their tastes run front side wi’ the rest. Show yerself at the window at times. ‘Twill keep th’ dogs amused,” Ti DUSK was falling when several soft thumps outside heralded the first dry fagots. Davies and the woman had rested on the sandy floor for an hour, listening intently to the sounds of crashing branches, swinging axes and rising hilarity. The man from time to time peeped through their yantage hole, and reported such progress as was accomplished toward making- of them a burnt sacrifice. When the fagots began to tumble home against the walls he wrenched aside a board from the window, and said with a quiet little laugh: “May as well have a little light, such as it is, Nell. They'll watch that we don’t crawl out, and perhaps it’ll help to take their attention away from our real work. ——— EORMICLOO© (Cc S . (C@