Adventure Magazine Cover — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

War Wampum of p’izen comes I'll laff most vastly to think of all the explaining him and old Pontiac will have to make,” he mumbled. “But Tl go crazy as Rickards if we don’t make a break soon. If it wa’n’t for Nell Marks I’d have grabbed a gun or ax and sounded my war-whoop long before this.” “Y’m as keen as you are, old friend. If this day could only end! I was cool enough until I saw her. Then I flew to pieces. Black Beaver seems down in the mouth.” The last was prompted by the dejected appearance of the Conestoga, who did not stir or display any interest in the outcome of Ballou’s venture. “Y’m gitting more skeered of what he’ll do then I am of what old Pontiac may do,”’ growled Meekly. “All the time you’s gone he’s sat there like a knot ona log. He’s planning some red foolishness. That’s the trouble with a Injun. He can’t look beyond the thing he wants to do next. Just now the Beaver don’t want to do nothing ’cept raise —— and tophet.”’ Ballou was concerned. Meekly’s force- ful remarks contained much truth. If committed to a plan of revenge the Beaver might jeopardize all plans by premature action. The Indian, seated some twenty feet from the fire, had his head’ all but covered by his blanket. Ballou went to him and said: “Let my red brother’s heart grow strong. Soon we shall steal the white woman away, and that will hurt Pontiac more than the loss of many scalps. It will turn the Rat against him. It will make Tamaque very angry. The Ga-go-sa will smile when they see the woman escaping. They will say the Beaver is very cunning to trick Pontiac.” “Only scalps will pay for the scalps the Ottawa dog burned,” hissed the Beaver. “We shall take scalps when we steal the woman,” grimly promised Ballou. A sudden explosion of yelps and sharp howls, starting at the central fire and rapid- ly caught up by every group, brought the Beaver to his feet, his hand on his ax. Ballou glided back to Meekly and saw that the rifles were at hand. Sleeping Wolf passed within hailing distance, and Ballou called out— “Have more of the Wolf’s scouts come back?’’ Pausing for a moment the Wolf replied: “The warriors play the moccasin game of the Chippewas to see who will drink milk tonight. The Wolf sends out men to get more meat. It will: be a very big feast. The Knife’s heart is big. Pontiac has said the milk is his gift to the Three Fires and their friends.” Ballou drew a deep breath and dropped limply to the ground. Meekly complained: “It’s just one nerve-jolt after another. Better take me farther from camp when the drinking begins. Tell Pontiac you’re afraid some of his children will lose their heads and try to cut off {nine.” “That would never do. We must risk it here. Pontiac would put a guard of so- ber men over us to protect us. We must have no guards.” ‘Then let it come quick and be over with, or you'll have two crazy men on your hands,” sighed the veteran. Sleeping Wolf’s orders sent several groups of hunters into the woods. While they were whooping and dancing on their way Rickards came up and passed a piece of bark to Ballou. It was a message from the Marks girl, and read: I knew Your voice. I think You tried to Tell me to be Ready in the Morning. The cabin is Always guarded by 2 Savages. I pray for Your coming. N.M. Ballou burned the bark and muttered: ‘“‘And the Rat is coming. I wonder when he will arrive?”’ _ Black Beaver, having noiselessly ap- proached, eagerly asked— “Does my brother make a new medicine?” “New, and very strong. It must be strong to stop the Rat from reaching this camp before we have run into the woods.” “The Rat is a big man among the Fox Indians,”’ muttered the Conestoga. “He can lead almost as many warriors as Nini- vois. Pontiac is glad to listen to him. His father was a white trader, and he has the white man’s medicine; but his heart is all red. He is a brave man. His hair in a hoop would be a brave coup for a man to count.” Ballou was much pleased to observe the Beaver had thrown off his silent, morbid mood, and sought to continue the talk: but the Beaver had had his say and remained mute. Yet his was no longer the silence of despair, for his small eyes were glowing with fierce lights. Ignoring Ballou’s talk CoOnniclboooks 119 (C@