Adventure Magazine Cover, December 10, 1922 — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

96 Grasping feebly at the water, he was dragged back into the cave. Again his free right hand hunted in vain for the knife. And again. And again. Then it occurred to him dimly that Charlotte had needed the knife. His right fist struck puny blows into the water in front of him. He was dying, and he was fighting. A wonderful thought came to him. Maybe this was a dream. Of course it was! Idiot—wake up! Came un- consciousness for a minute, then terrible pain. He uttered a half-groan, half-scream and opened his eyes. Better had he kept them closed, for they were within twelve inches of the eyes of the octopus. . Expres- sionless, they were that, but cold—and Will Mac Mahon Adventure ‘ white—and staring—cruel. Dockery wasn’t frightened any more, nor was he fighting. He was dead. It is odd, sometimes, how the Fates nurse along their paté de fots gras. Yes, they found Charlotte; some English sportsmen on a fishing trip. They carried her aboard their craft in a state of whining collapse. She told them her husband had brutally deserted her, so they gave her the money to go home to Boston. No doubt she will dine at the Heywood tonight, and enjoy her mushrooms sozs cloche. By the way, the Minerva Reefs are still where they always were, and I suppose that sack of pearls is lying somewhere around the mouth of the cave. Author of ah Outlaw,” CERTAIN winding river-coun- try in northern Ontario is a nat- ural preserve for moose—which argues the presence of wolf as Powe as night follows day. In green Summer the banks of the river and the shores of the contiguous lakes are marked by the splay-hoof as if herds of cattle were pasturing there. The long- legged cows and bulls, seeking the splatter- dock lily, wallow and nuzzle in the shallows like great, indolent pigs. Tormented in the open forest by a plague of voracious flies, they are reluctant to quit their oozy retreats, and at such times the fire rangers of the Canadian Government must buffet them with a paddle to obtain gangway for the canoe. aA At this season the wolves are in pairs at- tendant on their whelps and content with hares and other small game. Were this not so there would be no ox-like trails in that winding river-country. In white Winter the moose becomes the wariest animal in the northern wilds, flee- ing swiftly and afar from any suspicious sight, séund or scent. Death is abroad then in two pitiless forms—the modern high-powered rifle and the age-old menace of the wolf pack. The human hunters travel in pairs on snow-shoes, usually a sportsman and his native guide, and their objective is a head with a wide spread of broad, palmated ant- lers. If successful, they abandon the bull’s huge carcass to the crows, comichook (E@)