Adventure Magazine Cover — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

164 replied Graves pleasantly. “TI trust we will not impose on you too much “Not at all, not at all,” the stout man assured him, but the looks of the others belied his words. Groups had drawn off a little way and were conversing in undertones. All the men seemed to have poker faces—there was no hint of expression in them, although both flyers, as they removed their coveralls, caught disquieting as well as disquieted looks thrown their way. Graves continued to converse with the fat man. The tough- looking customer who had originally joined the conversation stood by himself, medita- tively chewing a blade of grass. His huge right hand, which had been in his coat pocket at the start, was lifted to his jutting, prize-fighter’s chin, while his expressionless gray eyes dwelt steadily on the airmen. “Quite some ship, eh? It’s a big reskel!”’ The dialect of a New York east-side Jew came familiarly to the flyers’ ears. It was a small, hook-nosed, black-haired man, whose shirt, tie and putteed legs all gave an impression of personal nicety even here in the wilderness. His face was somewhat pasty, and his lips very thin. He did not look over twenty-five. _~ “Tt sure is,” Hinkley assured him, throw- ing both pairs of coveralls into the cockpit of the ship. Neither of the flyers wore a blouse, but .were arrayed in O. D. shirts, breeches and boots. Both wore a sagging belt aad holster, with the butt of a Colt .45 pro- truding from each container. Their garb and general appearance fitted the wildness of their surroundings perfectly. Graves had his automatic out of sight, in his pocket. The sight of the guns the flyers wore caused additional low-voiced conversation on the part of the onlookers. The hard-faced American turned and started for the cabin without a word. Hink- ley and Broughton walked over toward Graves. Every one but the fat man started to walk around the ship, examining it with interest. Broughton ‘started to walk toward the lower edge of the clearing. He had an idea that he wanted to verify by pacing off the dis- tance and examining the rim of trees on the lower end. Graves was talking casually to the fat man, describing the flight, when a loud exclamation and a sudden burst of con- Adventure versation caused him to turn. The ma- chine guns had been noted for the first time. “You fly well armed,” said the tall, stoop- ing Jew nastily. Every one else was silent, awaiting Graves’ reply. ‘The ship is from Langham Field, where all the planes are equipped for bombing and other tests against battle-ships,’”’ was the - easy reply. ‘Hinkley, who had been wondering whether Graves would think of that excuse, smiled admiringly. “Doesn’t miss many bets,” he told himself. The fat man’s careful seniality was sud- denly gone. While the knot of men who were now clustered close to the rear cockpit of the ship engaged in further low-voiced conversation his little eyes roved from nose to tail of the ship, coming back to rest on Graves’ untroubled face. The man who had gone to the cabin came back over the hill. Another man was with him—a powerfully built fellow who towered over his companion. Every one became suddenly silent, as they came nearer. Hink- ley knew instinctively that this was Hayden. aV@@® HIS deeply lined, somewhat fleshy ‘Gis f, countenance could have served as a model for the face of a fallen angel. The wide, cruel mouth, high forehead and square jaw all indicated strength, and yet suffering and dissipation were graven there. His eyes, as he approached the ship, were in direct contrast to the rest of his face. They were large and bright—the eyes of a dreamer, and they almost succeeded in counteracting the cruel force of his face. Hinkley had a glimpse of the man’s mag- netism in those eyes. “How do you do, quietly. His voice was deep and rich. He removed the slouch hat: he wore, revealing thick black hair sprinkled with gray. It strength- ened the impression that he had Slav blood in him, for his complexion was dark and his eyes liquid black. “We dropped in on you unwillingly, but we are fortunate to find people here. My name is Graves.” “T am glad to know you.” He did not offer his hand, Hinkley noted. He stood quietly, looking at the ship. Broughton came back at this juncture, his eyes taking in the massive figure of the new- comer with slow appraisal. he colonel?” he said Gomuircbook (C@)