Adventure Magazine Cover — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

The Spirit of the Flames the avenue, wetting them, soaking them so that they would be less easily fired by the approaching flames. All along the eastern side of the avenue, artillerymen set cases of dynamite beneath the houses. To these cases, they attached electric wires which ran to portable batteries across the street. Then they drew back and, at a pre- arranged signal, each battery sent its tiny spark shooting along the wire. Instantly there was a tremendous roar, second only to the earthquake itself. Bricks, timbers, splinters, dirt and all manner of débris rose in a vast cloud and showered back to earth. Where but a moment before a line of beautiful homes had stood,,now lay a wrecked mass of ruins. “ The fire came steadily on. It reached the wreckage and consumed it furiously. But the flames were low and in their winding and lapping failed to span the broad avenue. The big hose was used almost entirely for re-wetting those houses which stood on the west side of the avenue. Only once in a while was it brought to play on some extra- far-reaching flame. All manner of fire fighting devices that were to be had, chemi- cal extinguishers and the like, had been gathered to the scene. Men stood by with these in hand, using them as sparely as possible and where they would do the most good. Thus we sweated and toiled and fought that monstrous destruction there in the flare of a ruined city. At last the flames faltered, flickered down and became a vast bed of smoldering coals amid hot bricks and twisted iron. The fire had been checked. That grim, resolute army had won. Three weeks later, when the menace of ghouls and thieves had passed, when un- guarded property was, to some extent, safe and when the municipal police were able to handle the situation unaided, we marines from Goat Island left our quar- _ ters in the abandoned home of a mil- 133 lionaire’ on Pacific Avenue and started for our island home. Going to the water-front, we marched down the rolling hills through a maze of | desolation. Scarred fragments of the walls and pillars of once happy homes stood on every side, mute and grim testimonials of the havoc that had been wrought. Enor- mous twisted iron girders and small moun- tains of crumbled brick bore witness that the energy, industry and effort of half a century had been wiped out even as so much chaff. As we made our way along these dev- astated streets, among these depressing scenes, Kelp marched with us. His burns and bruises and blisters were healed and he © was, to all appearances, his old self again. There was about him decidedly none of the dash, decisiveness or purposefulness which had been his when he fought the big civilian or when he rescued the Chinese girl. I remember wondering if he had gone back into his old shell of indifference. We arrived at the pier where the naval tug was awaiting us. The second platoon, the one to which Red Donnelly had been assigned and which we of the first platoon had not seen since the morning of the earth- quake, was already there. They had taken their gear aboard the tug but most of the men had come back on the pier while wait- ing for us. As soon as we reached the pier, the tug whistled sharply for all hands to get aboard. There was a rush for the gangway and a jam followed. Then suddenly a commotion was started right at the foot of the gangway. I turned and looked in that direction just in time to see Red Donnelly smash Kelp full in the face with a straight right. ‘“‘Now will you try to shove me aside an’ git ahead o’ me?” growled Red. “Tt was an accident,” said Kelp. shoved myself, from behind.” There was no anger in his voice and he stepped indifferently aside and allowed Don- nelly to go aboard first. “T was COnniclool C@