Adventure Magazine Cover, December 10, 1922 — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

The Last Run the black night with the pail in one hand and the rifle in the other. He leisurely strode down the trail to where the water gurgled at the outlet, dipped out a bucketful and then stood for a haif-minute listening to the muffled noises of the wilderness. A wind in the tops of the near-by jack pines whispered scandalously; far out on the lake there were little crackling sounds al- most too regular for the chance effect of frost. The thought of that ill-fated axman who had been overwhelmed in a silent rush struck Andrew West like a blow. He whirled and stumbled hurriedly back to the hut, chills making a parade-ground of his spine. “You spilled most of it!” Johnny ob- served, critically. “Oh, well, I’m not thirsty!” Andrew re- plied, generously. Both slept the drugged sleep of snow-shoe travelers, and it was broad daylight when the American again took the pail in hand. As he stepped outside he called, excitedly— “Look here, Johnny; there’s been a big dog all around the place!” McKee rushed out to look at the tracks. ‘“Can’t be! Yes! Yourre right!’ he ex- claimed. “But there shouldn’t be a dog within fifty miles. See! MHere’s where he trotted away in steps about fourteen inches apart; a wolf would do eighteen. No! I’m wrong; he wasn’t trotting there; he was only walking! Here’s his trot—all of twenty-two inches. Must be a whopper of « dog. Notice how far apart the two mid- dle toe-nails are—a wolf’s would be close together.” Johnny followed the trail a hundred feet farther and sprung another surprize. “The pack was here last night, buddy!” he called out, without any enthusiasm whatever. Not only were there numerous tracks of the compact-footed wolves, but in a wide half-circle about the hut were the scooped- out forms where the beasts had lain in the snow.’ The indications were that the pack numbered an even forty. “T don’t like the presence of wolves in our neighborhood,” McKee confessed, frankly, “and a dog running with them doesn’t improve the situation. His tracks show that he isn’t afraid of human beings— and he might be the leader of the pack!” “Aw, cut out the Jack London stuff!’ 99 West objected. “We need water; let’s go! I'll fix those Forty Thieves; I’m Ali Baba himself!”’ It was the Canadian this time who car- ried a loaded rifle, and Austin was enabled to fetch a pail brimful for breakfast. All day they again traveled north and at dusk reached their trapping headquarters— a fire ranger’s log-cabin on the southern shore of Opal Lake. It was large and strongly built, with a small window high up from the ground. “Unless the pack carries an ax,’ the American said, ‘‘we’ll be so safe here that you can continue to snore your head off at night.” “Righto!”” McKee agreed, but added, dis- couragingly, ‘“‘and we’ll carry our house with us, like a snail, when we run the trap lines!” “You nervous old maid!” Andrew said, scornfully. “Ill go along with a gun to protect you!” “Which means,” Johnny insinuated, “that you think it better to go about in twos!’ And in that two-rifle formation they put out one line of traps along the five-mile east- ern shore of the lake and another of ten miles across the western swamp-land and down the bank of the winding river. They also visited the two islands far out in the frozen lake—the larger one called ‘‘The Bottle” and the smaller ‘“The Cor ”"—but on neither was there any sign of fur. 4 THE ensuing week was so busy and | profitable that they gradually dis- missed from their minds the thought of the pack. They took muskrat and mink and beaver until McKee predicted that another week would give them a consider- able stake. But next morning there was a sign on the fur-bank that its doors had been closed until further notice. Along both lines were the tracks of a large dog and in no sprung trap was any- thing left but the foot of the fur-bearing quarry. All the other traps had been robbed of the bait. “T don’t understand this,” the Canadian declared. ‘‘That big thief couldn’t eat all the catch himself.” West solved the puzzle when he scouted a hundred feet into the deep forest. Here were the parallel trails of the wolves. “* ‘Rover’ robs the traps and carries the loot to his gang!’ he announced. ‘“‘See here comicbooks (Eo)