Adventure Magazine Cover — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

46 sun, hoping that Thusby’s men had over- come their attackers, and might come along that trail and rescue him. Before long they heard a noise in the jungle. The natives stood up, peering into the brush, their weapons ready. Some- body was stumbling through the thick -underbrush, as if in flight, and hurrying in a panic to find a trail. Wheaton turned his head, and saw a white man stagger out into the clearing— a man without a hat, in a blood-streaked gray shirt, and a revolver in a wavering hand. His other hand was held to his head. “Hello!” cried Wheaton. “Help me— you’re one of Thusby’s men—they’ve got me!” The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, and two of the natives scampered away. The other two retreated a trifle, but one lifted his blow-gun, slipping in a dart. The policeman slowly lifted his revolver- hand, and taking good aim, fired. The man with the blow-gun fell. His com- panion grabbed him by the heels and dragged him away into the jungle. The policeman staggered forward to Wheaton, and the butterfly hunter saw now that the man was terribly wounded. He still kept his hand to his head, behind his left ear. His left side was drenched with blood from a bad cut in the neck close to the shoulder. Wheaton fought to get loose, but, finding himself unable to help himself, asked the policeman to cut the thongs about him. “Y’m Bradden,” said the man as he collapsed close to. Wheaton. ‘‘They’ve killed Whitlaw and Brennan—and I don’t know where Welch is. I’m done for my- self—but V’ll do my best for you « His voice failed him, and he lay on his right side, the revolver out of his reach. His face was ghastly gray, and Wheaton was sure the man could not live long. Bradden recovered after a while and set to work to cut Wheaton free. But he had not the strength to drive the blade of his knife through the half-green rattans, so Vheaton took it from him, once his hands were free, and worked hastily. “Look out for your revolver,’ warned Wheaton to the gasping man. 7 “Empty,” whispered Bradden. ‘Yell— for Thusby—he’ll be coming this way— he heard = Adventure And he fainted. Wheaton freed himself, and pulling off his light cotton undershirt, bound as best he could the terrific wound in Bradden’s neck. But the policeman did not recover his senses, and before long Wheaton knew him to be dead, He hid the body in the edge of the jungle, that the natives might not take the head; and then, putting on his coat, he fled down the trail in hopes of evad- ing any more of the hostiles. He had not gone far before he came out upon a hummock that gave him a view of the sea below, and part of the rising up- land beneath him. And all at once he caught sight of a man out on the edge of a ravine along a hog-back of land that ran down as a buttress from the heights—it was Thusby! Wheaton whistled and waved his arms to draw the attention of Thusby. The latter turned, and, looking, saw him, and beckoned him down. Wheaton was about to go on and join him, but stopped, for he saw Thusby lift a revolver and fire. The report came soon after, and three times more Thusby fired, evidently hard-pressed by a throng of natives. Wheaton under- stood, when he saw Thusby push along the edge of the ravine, that the natives were trying to force him over the steep cliff. But there were places where the ravine was very narrow, and Thusby was seeking for one of these spots, that he might get across. Wheaton waited to see how the business might turn out. Thusby kept firing, stop- ping now and then to reload. The brush shut off Wheaton’s view of the natives, but now and then he caught the glint of a spear-head over the green sea of the under- brush in what had once been a clearing. Thusby crouched and ran across a bare spot—and then there came a flight of spears. The policeman fell, and Wheaton saw the natives rush in upon the stricken man. Realizing now that he was probably the only white man left on the island, Wheaton plunged along the trail which led to Thus- by’s house, thinking that there might be arms there and that if he got to the bunga- low in time he might secure them and hold off the attackers. Also, he knew that he must get to the shore, for his only chance of escape lay in some boat which might take him off the island. He stopped for nothing now. When CORIICLOO© S (E@)