Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

Tides of Hate | IN THE gray dawn of another day Ed Davies and Nell reclined in 2 a leafy covert beside the San Juan River. Beside them lay several gourds of water, a piece of smoked kid and a string of- grass threaded through a dozen lumps_of Indian bread. From time to time a brown face peered in upon them; at less frequent intervals a brown hand and arm was thrust through the screen of cane stems to deposit an addition to the stores. ‘“°Tis a sorry end. to a brave venture, Nell,” smiled Davies, “munching a breakfast of smoked meat and bread. “T ha’ a ereat mind. even now to take thine innocent Indian by th’ neck an’ squeeze’s life out. *Twas he who let us blunder into yonder ambuscade, by Satan! And th’ dog had said not twenty-four hours afore we should set eyes on them twelve ass-loads 0’ yellow gold.” “And I tell ye th’ Indian’s true!’ ex- claimed Nell with fierce loyalty. ‘“‘Ain’t ITawoman? Can another woman deceive me? Did I not nurse the Indian’s woman an’ cure her hurts after ye killed the French-. man to save her life an’ her man’s?” “Aye, Nell,” smiled Davies quizzically. “T ha’ no more doubts ye’re a woman, for all yer “Never mind that now,” interrupted Nell, coloring in spite of herself. ‘This I know: Th’ Indian tried to save us both for what we did for him. Was it fault o’ his ye wouldn’t take the canoe as I told ye he wanted? An’ when we fell into the am- bush, wasn’t it th’ Indian as hauled us out? ‘An’ who’s hid us here, wi’ stout canoe at hand? Who’s bringin’ us food and water at risk of his life? The Indian and his wife, Ed Davies! Shame on ye!” Nell turned on him with a gesture of anger. Davies lay back, watching her with a humorous glint in his eyes. All the calamities of the voyage had never forced that glint utterly from them, though at times it had not been quite so humorous. The girl was busily employed upon some- thing which every now and then caused her shoulders to squirm. In an inspired mo- ment Davies leaped to his feet, and stood over her. She glared up at him in swift fury. Anger changed to embarrassment, then to confusion. He seized her hands in the grip he would have used on a refractory seaman. “Sitha, Nell Clark,” he sard with intensity of feeling that made her lower her eyes. 79 “Sitha! Woman ye are, as ye were made, for all yer mannish pretense. Now tell me how long ye’ve been nursing that wound in secret. By th’ powers o’ perdition, [ll not let ye go longer wi’out remedy. Let’s look, lass. me! Where got ye that?” Davies dragged her hand away from a blue-and-purple shot-hole in her chest. She stiffened once in protest, then abruptly relapsed into a submissive huddle _ of anguished humanity. “°Twas at the fort, Ed,” she whispered. Davies thought back. He saw that storming of the San Juan walls, and recalled that the bullets flew like hail for a moment. e ’s mirth, girl!’ he swore. “Why did- ye not then stay wi’ Steve Carr? A man’s wound, is that!” “I told ye once, Ed, Steve Carr was not A rustle in the canes stopped her speech. Cautiously, as some hunted animal might appear, the Indian writhed his way through the thicket, followed by his female compan- ion. “Both had a finger at lips; both main- tained the attitude of creatures of the wild forest when danger threatens. Davies had but a smattering of either Indian or Spanish. The two Indians spoke to Nell, and she conversed volubly. When the Indian suddenly turned and squirmed into the jungle again, Nell told her companion the message that showed him the story of his venture, beginning, middle, and end—unless Fate ordained yet another climax, which seemed to him impossible. “°Tis time, Ed,” she said, and gazed deep into his eyes as she spoke. “Forget thine asses, thy gold, thy castle in the home- land, and be satisfied wi? thy life, for ’tis the last offer ye have of it!” Dumbly Davies rose and ictlowed her. The world had been shown to him having neither foundation, structure, nor capital. As he gloomily stepped into an Indian canoe at the river brink and discovered that both his hands were full of food and water- gourds, and that Nell was so burdened, he opened his eyes to the truth, and saw the Indian and ‘his wife as burdened as he had been, solicitously loading the canoe, yet ever casting apprehensive glances about them. “He says to wait till ye hear a whistle, Ed,” said Nell, interpreting. The Indian woman passed a banana-leaf CGomiGcbdooks (C@