Adventure Magazine Cover — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

14 weight. It took several attempts before Pedro and I could climb on the crazy thing, and then we had trouble in helping Senhor Tom aboard. When all three of us were again on the logs we sat panting and laugh- ing in relief. Then our laughter died as if somebody had grabbed our throats. We were safe on the raft. Our wet hammocks, too, still clung to the logs. But nothing else was there. Our paddles, our poles, our ax, had gone overboard. So had our guns. For an instant I felt numb. The loss of our guns struck me like a sickening blow. We had drifted some distance during our struggles, tilting the raft time and again, and where those weapons. now lay was more than we could know. Staring around, I saw only the paddles and poles floating away ahead of us. “Hold on, senhor,” Pedro said coolly. “We are going after the paddles.” He jumped off. I followed. We let the poles go, but saved the paddles and swam back to the logs. With them we worked the raft back to the left shore. “We have nothing left to lose now, Sen- hor Tom, except our lives—and that curged money of the Hawk’s,” I said bitterly. “And we may not be long in losing them. Our guns are gone.” “Good !” he exclaimed. board? How deep is the water?” “Too deep, I fear. It is black, and the bottom is probably mud and snags. We shall look, but I doubt if we shall find them. We have ‘drifted.” His blank blue eyes stared ahead at noth- ing. His right hand felt for his revolver. It still hung in its holster. “Well, dang it, we’ve still got'a few shots left here,”’ he said, with a faint grin. “What are you ‘kicking about? Anybody’d think we were out of luck, from your croaking. Come on, let’s find the rest of the guns. If we can’t, let’s go.” Looking into his face, I felt ashamed of myself. Blind, helpless, he sat. there and said, ‘‘Let’s go!” And I, with all my strength and all my senses, was moaning because our guns were lost. “T am an old woman, comrade,” I said disgustedlv. ‘‘We shall go on and get our man.” “Now you’re talking! a girl somewhere down ahead.” tightened. oP] “Over- Remember, there’s His face - was in it. Adventure 7 - “We have not forgotten.” Then, telling him to sit quiet, we at- tacked the bush with our machetes as sav- agely as if it had been an enemy. A few minutes of swift cutting brought us back to the hollow where the dark water lay. “Ha!” said Pedro. “A bit of good for- tune at last.” There, shoved well up on the dirt, was our canoe. It was bare as bone. Not even a paddle But it was our own stout, speedy canoe in which we three had journeyed all the way from the headquarters of our old coronel, back on the Javary, and it was un- damaged. The thief had not spent the time, even if he had the tool, to cut through its bottom and make it useless. Pedro loped back to the raft and got the paddles, and I heard Senhor Tom’s brief comment on the news. “Uh-huh. Luck’s swinging our way again. Hurry up!” But before we returned to our North American partner we made desperate eif- forts to find our guns. Both of us were poor divers, and both of us knew well that more than one kind of death or injury might be waiting under the surface; but we went down again and again by turns, clawing around down there in the muck until we had to rise exhausted. In some places we could not reach the bottom. In others our hands met oozy mud or tangles of sunken trees whose slimy touch was like that of snakes. That was all we found. The guns were gone forever. Taking Senhor Tom aboard, we settled ourselves to make speed—Pedro in his usual place in the bow, the blind man in the mid- dle, and I at the stern. Pain was in Sen- hor Tom’s face again, and he held one hand to his head, though he made no complaint. We told him to lie down, and when he did so we put wet cloths on his head. It was all we could do for him. “Move on, move. on!” ‘“‘Never mind about me.”’ “We are moving,” Pedro told him. ‘But before we meet further trouble, will you lend me your revolver?” He hesitated. Then, with a grim laugh, he held out the weapon. he growled. - “Never handed over my gun before to . anybody,” he said. ‘But here it is. don’t waste a shot.” Pedro shoved it under his belt, and we Only (E(0) 0)(0)(6) mie S (EC) m