Adventure Magazine Cover — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

The Cook Soon after there was a medley of wild yells. Filson believed the natives had started in pursuit of the cook and were chasing him into the jungle. After that there was comparative quiet ashore, though the gongs resumed their booming far up in the hills; but lazily, as if what they had to communicate was of little import. Filson remained on watch ali night. As for Gedge, he turned in and snored. At daylight he was still sleeping heavily, as if drunk or drugged. The captain was or- dinarily a light sleeper, yet Filson had diffi- culty in rousing him that morning. He had little to say, but was surprizingly agreeable, though there were no signs of remorse in his manner. He did not men- tion the cook, and so far as Filson knew, never paid any attention to the lonely ee He was indifferent to the cook’s ate. | THEY got a gentle breeze off the “7 land and filled away for Tangeru. — Early in the afternoon the Seeker was safe in the port of Tangeru and tied up at a jetty which ran out from a zinc ware- house belonging to the company of copra exporters which had bought the schooner. There was a barkentine—the Peerless— almost ready to sail for Manila. Gedge and his crew were to go to Manila in her as passengers; and the crew of the Seeker transferred their dunnage to the Peerless, while Gedge went down the beach about a mile to the plantation-house to draw his own pay and the pay of his crew. He also had to turn over the documents relating to the transfer of ownership of the Seeker. Filson took a walk ashore in the bamboo village above the warehouses. He was thoroughly disgusted with Gedge, and was thinking of quitting the captain when they reached Manila. “You better keep in sight of the jetty,” warned Benson, the foreman of the pressing- works. ‘“The beach is safe enough, but out toward the jungle you’re likely to be in danger. The natives up the north coast seem to be stirred up about something. They’ve been coming in through the moun- tain passes all night, and we heard gongs going in the hills till morning. This is the head season, you know—and a white man’s head is worth a lot.” Filson said he would be careful, and he Al thought over the warning of Benson. The bay in which Black Pete had been driven ashore was to the north, some thirty miles from Tangeru overland. Gedge did not return the next day. Filson supposed that the captain had spent the night aboard the Seeker, and, not finding him aboard the schooner, presumed Gedge had been delayed at the plantation. Filson slept aboard the Peerless the second night, and, being told that the barkentine would sail that day, went ashore to ask where Gedge was. “He’s most likely having a rest at the plantation-house,”’ said Benson. ‘‘That’s all right—we’ll hold the barkentine till he shows up. It’s orders.” “T’m a little worried,” said Filson. ‘I think I’ll go out and get our bosun and walk down to the plantation—if you think it’s safe for us.” “Oh, you'll be safe enough in that direc- tion,” said Benson. ‘The jungle boys don’t run around the beach between here and the plantation-house—they know bet- ter.”’ Filson didn’t go back aboard the barken- tine for the bosun. Instead, he hurried down the beach in the flaming heat of late morning. He was wearing a revolver, and as the lip of the jungle was more than thirty yards from the water, he felt that he could protect himself. And as Benson had said, there were no natives in sight along the beach that morning, either in the jungle or in the water. When he had rounded the bend of the beach which shut off sight of the ware- houses Filson heard voices in the brush to his right—and native voices. He didn’t like that, after what Benson had said about the natives not daring to haunt the road to the plantation-house. He hurried on, feeling that there was something about the frequent calls from the hills which was threatening. He wished that he had brought the bosun along. Presently he came to a place where the sand was marked outside the road-like path along the shingle. He thought it looked as if a proa had been dragged into the jungle. Yet there were no marks of the proa having landed. And there were many tracks of bare feet on the moist, hard sand down close to the water. “Mr. Filson!” The mate stopped dead in his tracks; and COMmic soa <S' (©