Adventure Magazine Cover — page 127: what you’re looking at

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

War Wampum “Tf the Beaver is not very wise his foot will trip. If his foot gets lame his brothers and the white woman will die at Sandusky,” warned Ballou, who was growing suspicious of the man’s purpose. “The foot will not trip. The Beaver will not walk lame when he comes back from the hunting.” Refusing to say more he picked up his blanket and threw it over his shoulders, examined his rifle, and departed. The white men were puzzled at his taking a blanket. Hunters did not thus encumber themselves when seeking game near a camp. : The Beaver skirted the mass of excited gamblers and passed through the camp until he reached the western side, when he halted and seated himself by a deserted camp-kettle. For a minute he _ stared about him and made sure none of the war- riors were near to observe him. The moc- casin game was the focal point of every man’s attention. The Beaver stretched his arms lazily and allowed his blanket to fall on the ground behind him. After a moment he rese, gathered up his blanket Over one arm and continued his journey. He passed along the western shore of the bay and into the woods that stretched in thin growth down the rim of land that formed the northern boundary of the bay. When he was out of sight of the camp he arranged his blanket over his shoulder, only now he carried under it an Ottawa bow and three hunting-arrows. He had gathered these up with his blanket when quitting the deserted fire. He rapidly traversed the thin line of timber and emerged among some low bushes on the lake shore. The lake was scarcely ruffled, and the Beaver’s heart rejoiced. There was nothing to prevent a canoe from the north from making swift progress. And it was toward the north he was ever directing his gaze. The sun was two hours beyond the midday mark before his body stiffened and he shaded his eyes with a hand. In the north was a dot. Like a cat watching the approach of a bird he crouched low and alternately tightened and relaxed his superb muscles. Very slowly the dot grew into a canoe, with the sunlight glistening at times on the wet paddles. There were two men in the light craft, and for a few seconds the Beaver scowled hideously and wished he had ap- I2I propriated more arrows. He should have known, he told himself, that the Rat would be too lazy to come alone. For a long time the canoe seemed to be stationary, with bow toward the hidden watcher. Then the heads of the two paddlers ceased to be in alinement and became separate dots, and the Beaver’s heart grew cold as he realized the canoe had swerved toward the south-east. The success of his “‘hunt- ing” trip necessitated that the Rat should not paddle around to the mouth of the bay, but land near where the Beaver was hiding and proceed toward the camp afoot. A bit of a breeze stirred the sumac leaves over his head, and he moistened a finger and held it up to test the air currents. The side of the finger facing the north instantly grew cold. Far out beyond the canoe the lake was dappled with patches of white. The wind from the north quickened, and the canoe swung back and ran before it and toward the Beaver. Now the Beaver could make out the oc- cupants, a half-breed and a full blood. This much was obvious from their attire. The breed was dressed in a laced coat of French make, reminiscent of French rule at Detroit, and had his black hair held back from his eyes by a band of red cloth. His hair was decorated with eagle feathers befitting one who had counted many coups. Like his companion he had made his face fearful to contemplate with stripes of red, white, and black paint. The full- blood wore nothing but a breech-clout and a few feathers. Tiny waves began to jump upon the spit of sand, soon: pursued by white-crested larger waves. With a final drive of their paddles the two voyagers sent their canoe into the shallows and leaped overboard into the smother of white water and lifted their craft high on the shore. The Beaver’s leg muscles’ twitched. He was within easy arrow-range, but the wind was blowing in his face. He worked backward into the timber and took up a position close by a deep-grooved path. He could hear the two men conversing— the Rat arrogantly giving commands about the scanty luggage and the other begging for some tobacco. The two men skirted the growth for a short distance until they came to the en- trance of the path, which they entered. The Rat was in the lead when they passed COMmMICoooks Cc C@