Adventure Magazine Cover — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

The Butterfly Hunter under the heads. He felt for Wheaton’s hand, and pulled him gently along. Whea- ton crawled after him to the back of the building. Another “window” on the far side was opened, and the native put down a crude ladder into the darkness. Wheaton gained the ground safely, and followed his leader into the rim of the jungle. The white man felt a strip of rat- tan pressed into his hand, and the native drew it taut. Wheaton understood this was a leading-line. Then the native swung off outside the village in the blackness of the jungle, moving away from the sounds of the searching natives on higher ground. Presently they were in a trail, and they traveled fast, going down for the coast. Wheaton knew that any descending path meant they were headed for the sea, and at last he felt hope. In an hour they had gained a beach; and, keeping inside the shadow-rim of the jungle to avoid the bright moonlight, the native guided Wheaton to a rocky shore with overhanging cliffs. And here they began to climb over big boulders along the sheer sides of the precipice rising above the sea. Suddenly the native popped into the entrance to a cave, high above the breakers. Wheaton climbed up the wrack of surf- swept rocks and scrambled into the cave. He knew it would serve as a hiding-place till late the next day, when the schooner which had brought him would be returning to Thusby’s bungalow. The vessel would pass close in here, and Wheaton could sig- nal it and be taken off. The native stood. in the entrance to the cave, and waved his arm seaward, as a sign that the schooner should be carefully watched for by the fugitive. | Wheaton stepped close to the burly figure outlined against the moonlight, and patted him on the bare back in gratitude for having res- cued him from the headhouse and the mur- derous tribesmen. “Good man!”’ exclaimed Wheaton, thank- fully and earnestly attempting to express his appreciation. He had nothing left to reward the black with, for all that was left to the butterfly- hunter now was the remnants of his white trousers. The native grunted, and moved as if to go down over the lip of the cave. “You good man!” went on Wheaton, grasping the native’s big hand and shaking 4 49 it heartily. “You save my life—savvy!” And then in an outburst of emotion as he thought that but for this native his own head would be swinging in the headhouse, he cried out: “Oh, you have proved that what I said to Thusby was right! You poor savage, you can not understand that you are a living example of the fact that there is good- ness and humanity in the wild folk of the jungles! Poor Thusby! If he’d only used my methods in dealing with them, he might have saved the lives of his men, and his own. I’ve had a tight squeak, but I’ve come out all right, just as I said I should. Good man, you! Good man of the wilder- ness!”’ The native dropped to the ground; and, . shaking his head from side to side and slap- ping his bare leg with his hand, he broke out into gurgling, hilarious laughter. Faxyt Ke) cried the astounded Wheaton. “Do you know enough of my language to realize how grateful I am that you have saved my life?” 4 “Sure; I understand, matey!’ came the startlng reply. “Say, youre funny! Are you boob enough to think a black would have slipped you away? That anybody but a white man would have bothered about saving your head?” And the “native” burst out into laughter once more. 7 “Good Heavens!’ gasped Wheaton. *You’re white!”’ “T was once,”’ said the man; ‘‘and maybe Ill be one again—a regular white man.”’ “But how have you lived here—among natives—and not been killed? The fact that you have, proves I’m right—I’m right " 3 “Forget it! I’ve got tattoo marks on me that the thought was charms— the Statue of Liberty on my chest—they thought that was a god. And I done a few sleight-o’-hand tricks that scared ’em so they broke out in a rash. But this was the best = And the man held up a small object which caught a glimmer of moonlight from the entrance to the cave, and glittered. ‘What is it?”’ asked Wheaton. For reply, the man swept it to his mouth, and blew from it a few swift bars of jig music—a harmonica! “CAN it be that you understand?” COnmicloool< (C@