Adventure Magazine Cover — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

22 Instantly I stepped back and seized the weapon. Speaking low, I said: “The heart of Tupahn is sore because his woman is lost. But he will take the gift of Andirah and remember his friendship.”’ The sunken lips smiled faintly. With no more words, I returned quickly to my comrades. Guided by secret touches from both of us, Senhor Tom went out as he had come in; head high, blue eyes straight ahead, giving no sign of the blackness in his sight and in his heart. Through the little door we passed without a bump, and on into the bright light of noon. Shoulder to shoulder we strode across the clearing to the edge of the forest. A few steps more, and we were lost Vil to the sight of the men of the Bat. WORDLESS, we passed along the beaten path of the people of SE Andirah to the point where it was joined by the trail we had followed from the creek. Still silent, we turned off there and trod again on our own footprints, heading back toward the canoes which we had lost and found again. But when well away from the Indian path, we halted. “T do not believe it,” Pedro asserted. T looked at him. His face, usually ready to break into a smile, now was hard. His warm brown eyes had turned cold, and his jaws were shut like a trap. Through his teeth he repeated— “T do not believe it.” : , Tae what?” Senhor Tom asked u “That the senhorita is dead, or even lost. I believe she is there in that maloca. Some- thing tells me that we have been very near her, and that now we are going farther away from her at every step.” “T wish to God I could believe that too,” muttered the blind man. “But that old Andirah’s voice sure was that of a man talking straight.” “And so was his face,’ .I added. ‘TI watched him like a hawk, and I can tell when a man lies tome. Besides, why should he lie to us? We were three men, poorly armed, surrounded and badly outnumbered. He was not in the least afraid of us, and he did not want to be rid of us. He asked us to stay to a feast, gave us back all our goods, made us a present of this gun, and was more o~ 4 oe , ee a Sn ie te ee NT a iach paar pes 3 Adventure than fair to us throughout, If he is a liar Tam a fool.” Pedro nodded slowly. “Tt too believe him to be honest,” he | admitted. “Yet I can not believe that the senhorita is not in that maloca. I think there is trickery somewhere, and that the pajé is at the bottom of it.” Then he grinned faintly. “Senhor Tom, you kicked that dog hard,” he went on. “He showed his teeth like a savage brute when you made the chief hum- ble him before all the tribe. He will bite you if his chance ever comes.” “He'll find me tough chewing,” was the explorer’s reply. ‘‘But let’s thrash this mat- ter out right here. God knows I want to believe you’re right about Marion, but I’ve got to have some reason for that belief. What do you base your hope on?” His haggard face was so eager that I looked elsewhere; for I believed the girl was dead. Pedro, before answering, drew him down on a fallen tree which happened to be beside us and made two cigarets—one for Senhor Tom and one for himself. I sat down beside them and made a smoke of my own. | 28 3 you ask for cold, hard reasons, com- rade,” my partner said then, “TI can give you almost none.-. For one thing, we have seen nothing to prove that two men were in this affair. True, the heel-tracks of the prisoner taken to the maloca were those of a man’s boots; but we know that the sexhorita was wearing your extra boots, and I believe the tracks are hers.” That was true enough. As the time when the girl was saved from Black Hawk she had had no clothing except a long shapeless garment given her by an old Indian woman, and Senhor Tom had given her his spare kit to wear until she could reach a place where she could get something more suitable. She had had to stuff leaves into the boots _to make them small enough for her feet, but she had worn them. “Tf they are not hers, whose are they?” Pedro went on. “Boots are scarce in this bush. Lourenco and I wear none. Indians wear none. The two dead men we have found since leaving the camp of Black Hawk had none. I do not believe there are more than two pairs of boots within many miles of this spot; and both of those pairs are your own.’ “But,” I objected, ese: if those boots \ "EOMmichboo Ss (E()