Adventure Magazine Cover — page 126: what you’re looking at

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

120 he suddenly quit the fire to wander among the warriors. PREPARATIONS were already be- ing completed for determining who should be among the drinkers, and who should remajn sober and prevent mutilation and murder. The savages had been divided into. two groups with Nini- vois and Take selected as the captains. Two men, skilled in the Chippewa game of ‘‘moccasin,”’ were to play six games, and the group represented by the winner was to have the new milk, while the loser’s band was to guard all weapons and police the camp. Four moccasins were arranged in a row on a blanket. Each player in turn was to juggle and hide a bullet under each moc- casin. One bullet was marked, and the opposing player was to guess under which moccasin the marked bullet was concealed. The player successfully hiding the bullet scored a win. Each group was massed behind its man the moment the knife was tossed to see who should first show his skill in concealing. Ninivois’s man was to make the first essay. Inveterate gamblers that they were the two groups began placing wagers, be- ginning with knives and concluding with muskets. As the excitement increased warriors recklessly wagered their all, the trinkets and weapons being heaped in a common mass. | The man who was to hide the bullets palmed them between his five fingers, and a drum directly behind him began to beat. Take’s man, the guesser, picked up the slender thirty-six inch striking-stick. The drummer began singing a moccasin-game song, and the man, who was to conceal, rapidly lifted the toe of each moccasin with his left hand and dropped a bullet from his right hand. The man with the striking- stick never shifted his gaze from his op- ponent’s chest, for while the face usually remained impassive the average player could not refrain from holding his breath for a second when dropping the marked bullet. So absorbed were the spectators that none was conscious of the Conestoga’s presence. Just as the striking-stick failed to locate the marked bullet and the war- riors were relaxing for a few moments be- fore the next play the Beaver ended his search by reaching forward and touching Adventure the naked shoulder of Little Elk, the Rat’s messenger. The fellow was unwilling to give the Beaver any attention, for it was his side that had won the first play and he was hungry for the milk. The Beaver persisted, and demanded— “The Rat comes after one sleep and be- fore the next?” ‘He may travel fast, he may travel slow,” jerked out Little Elk, moving to resume watching the game. “The Trade Knife, who gives the milk, sends the Beaver to find out. The Rat is his good friend. Has the Little Elk no talk to send back to the Knife?”’ The runner became complaisant, for a man who could give milk to so many war- riors must be a very big man. “The Rat will come before the sun goes down. He will be drunk by the time the stars shine.” ~ “Little Elk said he would come ‘after another sleep’,’’ reminded the Beaver, his gaze growing ferocious. “The Elk spoke the words the Rat put in his mouth,” mumbled the runner, shrinking back from the Conestoga. ‘‘Now the Knife asks for a talk the Elk says what is in his heart. He knows how the Rat travels. He knows there is a white woman here the Rat has traded for. He has seen him travel before when only a French- Indian woman was at the end of the journey. The Rat always comes quicker than he says he will when traveling to meet a woman. Tell the Knife his friend will be here before the sun hides his light.” _~ He broke away and sought to squirm through the dense mass, as the drum began its dull challenge and the moccasin song was renewed. Black Beaver composedly hummed an ancient Conestoga hunting-song as he went to rejoin his friends. The white men noted the change in his bearing and Meekly remarked— “He’s gitting over his —— foolishness.” The Beaver picked up the wooden mask and placed an ear to the lips. His form straightened and his voice was vibrant with happiness as he announced: “The Beaver’s medicine is kind. Once more it talks to him. It tells him to walk alone in the woods and shoot some meat for tonight’s feast. It says it is bad for the Beaver and his brothers to eat more of the meat that Ottawa dogs have handled.” Gomicsvook C@