Adventure Magazine Cover — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

116 “T’m thinking of something that promises to turn out to be a good plan,” said Ballou. “Faint trail at first, but it’s being beaten down into a path mighty fast.” Then to the Conestoga he added: ‘““My red brother shall pay the Ottawas for burning the scalps. Let him stay here with the prisoner. Soon we shall strike. We shall try to steal the white woman tonight, or early tomorrow morning. If there is any milk (rum) in camp I will trade for some and make a feast for the walrlors SO we can get away while they are drunk.” “The last of the Conestogas does not wait here for a chance to run away,” was Black Beaver’s bitter answer. ‘‘He waits to make his medicine strong by breaking off an ax in the head of an Ottawa.” “He shall save his ax, but break many heads,”’ soothed Ballou. ‘Tonight, or to- morrow morning while the camp sleeps, Enoch. Morning will be best, I believe.” “Don’t let old Pontiac git to talking high,” growled Meekly. ‘“He’s counting too much on Tamaque’s help to be uppish with you.”’ With Rickards lounging at his side and fumbling his wampum string Ballou made ~ his way through the camp until he spied Pontiac lying on a robe in the sun and smoking his adulterated tobacco. With a smile that made his painted face appear very ghastly Ballou seated himself opposite the chief and was promptly offered the pipe. After puffing to the four wind quarters, the earth, and the sun Ballou announced: “The Knife’s heart is happy. He knows his friend, the Rat, will soon be here, and the child of the manitos has again said Tamaque will come soon. The Knife would make a feast for Pontiac’s brave men. Tamaque will bring much that is good to trade, as he has taken much from white cabins, and he gives with an open hand when the Knife asks. Let the war- riors have a little milk tonight and tell them it is a gift from the Knife to show there is no anger in his heart for what they tried to do to the prisoner.” Pontiac smoked slowly and considered the proposal for several minutes. At last he said: “There is some milk hidden in the woods where my children can not find it. A little milk would warm their hearts. They will be glad to know the Trade Knife is not angry with them. Just now they wish to Adventure go to their hunting grounds and smoke much meat for Winter. They are like little children. Pontiac has told them they need not meat for Winter, for we shall find all we can eat inside of Fort Detroit. The milk will give them a fighting heart. Tam- aque can trade for it when he comes. But only a part of them can drink tonight. When all drink even Pontiac has hard work to make them hear. Tamaque’s son can have anything Pontiac has. Sleeping Wolf shall send out hunters so there will be much meat for feasting. Some of my Chippewas shall arrange the moccasin game so the camp can be separated into those who drink and those who wait until the next feast, perhaps tomorrow night.” “It is good,” said Ballou. ‘‘Great is Pontiac, chief of all tribes once Detroit is taken. Now I must go and look at the white woman my father sent here. When he comes he will ask the Knife, ‘Is the woman well? walk?’ answer.” He rose to depart, as if visiting the pris- oner had been a part of his daily routine. Pontiac’s eyes opened wide and then all but closed. “The white woman would be alone,” he murmured. ‘She is kept in a cabin away from the village and camp.”’ “It is not for the woman to say what she would have. She is my father’s prisoner until the Rat takes her and my father takes the new guns. The Knife must see she is not sick, for Tamaque would be sad if the Rat refused to make the trade. Tamaque wants her to walk in the woods each day, so she will be strong.” “She walks each day,” said Pontiac. ‘The two men leave her by herself. She will not try to escape. She has heard the wolves howling at night.”’ ‘“Tamaque is not here. His son must see the white woman and the new guns,” stoutly persisted the Knife. “It is better to leave her alone,” de- clared Pontiac. “Tf the Trade Knife did not know Pon- tiac to be a mighty warrior and great chief he would begin to think the girl had run away to the wolves, or had been killed,” coldly retorted Ballou. “It is a good son who remembers his father’s wishes,’ surrendered Pontiac, ris- ing. “We will go and count the guns and Is she strong and ready to The Knife’s tongue must have an COMICOoOoks C (C@