Adventure Magazine Cover — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

War Wampum “This time tomorrow we'll be free, or dead.” ‘“Pontiac’s got a big job on his hands to settle. before morning,” Meekly observed. “He knows that more’n one red mind is thinking queer things about his Ottawas. He’s got to smother them idees, or quit fighting.” The Conestoga oracularly spoke up and sald: “‘There is one path out of the trouble for Pontiac. He will say our brother with the smooth head is the bad medicine. He will come and ask my other brother to build a big fire—not a little fire—under his prisoner. If he must choose between keep- ing the Wyandottes and the help of Tama- que he will keep the Wyandottes. They are his best fighters. He must hold them fast to the Three Fires, or stop trying to take Fort Detroit.” — Meekly gave a harsh laugh and agreed. ‘Jarvis, the Injun has hit it right. I’m the only critter they’ll dare to burn. Pon- tiac has made up his mind already. Won- der what Hance Whit is doing bout this time.”’ : “They shall never burn you, Enoch,” assured Ballou. ‘“They may kill all of us; but we won’t die by fire. Hance Whit? He’ll be wishing he was with us, let our luck be what it will. Whit is a brave man; a good man to have at your elbow when trouble comes. He makes me fighting mad, but he’s a good man in time of trouble.” Rickards came and sat down beside Ballou and announced: _ ‘‘White woman. She said ‘tonight.’ ”’ “You hear that, Enoch? Everything ends tonight, one way or the other.” “Lawdy! But it'll seem good to have a rifle in my paws ag’in,” sighed Meekly. The sun reached the sky-line. Fires were freshened and kettles were hung in the flames to boil.” Sleeping Wolf loudly called the names of four men. A general uplifting of heads greeted the summons, and beady eyes glistened with new life. Men might be found dead in the forest, and even a manito might be angry; but milk was milk and the red throat always was parched. The conversation began to be more neighborly. Men began to pass back and forth between the two groups. Mem- bers of the Three Fires and their allies found 127 a common ground of thought in declaring that all would be well if the white prisoner of the Trade Knife were burned. Sleeping Wolf led the four men into the woods, and his going was the signal for grunts of anticipation and much smacking of lips. There was but little talk until the Wolf reappeared, the four men coming behind him and bringing two large kegs of rum; then began a babel of guttural voices and a general stirring about of the men. Pontiac had decided shrewdly in choosing to risk a general drinking bout to allowing half of his followers to brood over their super- stitious fears. | Elderly warriors detailed for the work passed briskly from fire to fire to collect knives and axes in blankets and hide them in the woods. The muskets and bows were carried to Pontiac’s hut by young men, who whooped as they ran. The sun vanished and the kettles of meat began to boil. Sleeping Wolf arranged the two kegs and tapped one, and won loud ap- plause by announcing that each warrior was to have a dram while the meat was cooking. With much stamping of feet the men formed in a long line and began filing by the keg. When half the line had been served the Weasel, impatiently awaiting his turn, chanced to turn his keen hunter’s gaze toward the mouth of the bay. His loud shout startled the savages. “Fire on the water!” he excitedly cried. Ballou heard the warning; red men and white stared toward the east. There was no mistaking the point of light twinkling on the horizon. “Ts it astar?”’ Ballou whispered to Meekly. “There comes another one,” grunted Meekly. . There appeared another, and yet more, until a round dozen were dancing over the water. “‘Tamaque is coming! Tamaque is com- ing!”’ shouted the savages in chorus. “Tamaque is coming. He will be here soon,” hissed the Conestoga; and he began to collect his war toggery and to wrap his wooden mask in his blanket. “The Trade Knife is coming,” muttered Ballou as he slipped Meekly’s wrist bonds and loosened the neck noose so it could be instantly removed. “I’ve freshened the priming, Enoch.” TO BE CONTINUED DOOLK C@©