Adventure Magazine Cover, December 10, 1922 — page 112: what you’re looking at

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

106 among ’em or died up where only the crows could reach the table d’hétel” “T wouldn’t put it past that four-legged Fritz,”” McKee agreed. ‘He yelled, ‘Kam- eradP when we had the drop on him, and I'll wager he’s out right now gathering a new gang of cutthroats to do us in!”’ At this moment there came a sturdy scratching at the door accompanied by an eager whining. McKee remained silent, but West called out— “That you, Pinch?” A bark was the answer, and Andrew hur- ried to open the door. “Steady!” McKee shouted. “Wait till I support you with the rifle. He may have another pack with him.” But the black dog was alone. He would not enter the cabin, and almost spoke in coaxing his master to follow him out into the night. “Oho!” exclaimed the skeptical Johnny. “He wants to lure you to where his crowd can make a silent rush! Get the other rifle; we'll see it through.”’ They kept the excited dog in the glare of a spot-light down to the edge of the lake, and there they found the carcass of a huge gray wolf. Scratches on the ice, leading in from the nortb, showed that Pinch had dragged his prey here for a purpose. “T’ll say he’s some malemiut!’’ Andrew announced, proudly. “Maybe this is one of the wolves we shot,” McKee suggested, as he examined the inert beast. ‘“‘No; there’s no bullet wound, and his throat is torn. I suspect that Fritz—I mean, Pinch, really did him “Why, it was a fight to the death!” the American announced. ‘See! Pinch is cut on both shoulders and across the chest. Tl bet he ran along with this wolf until they found a good ring for the battle and then went at it tooth and toe-nail. It oc- curred to me when I was up the tree that the two of them were waging a sort of silent duel for the leadership of the pack—that is, the malemiut took all the chances and this big gray hung back just far enough to take advantage of any mistake he might make and—and——’”’ . “Cut out the Jack London stuff!” Johnny interrupted, meanly. “Come on, Pinch, old scout,’ Andrew commanded. ‘“I’ll doctor you up, and then you can sleep at the foot of my bunk.” f - GComicboo Adventure “Nothing doing on that ‘Welcome To Our Fair City!’ stuff,” the Canadian ob- jected. “A dog turns into a wolf and then the wolf becomes a dog again—and he may be due for another flip-flop. He might slash both our throats in the night.” Pincher settled the question himself, after his wounds had been dressed, by going outdoors straightway to a snow-bank along- side the cabin and digging hiniself in until he was hidden to the snout. “He must have learned the trick Over There,” Johnny observed. ‘‘We had to bomb out some of his’ two-legged brothers!” “Aw, this is an Allied dog!” Andrew in- sisted. “You mean an associate canine!’? McKee amended, maliciously. ‘And how was it that you didn’t recognize him until I helped you down out of the tree?”’ “T had my mind on something else!’’ West replied, truthfully. Next day a tally of the slain proved that all the wolves had been done for. A half- dozen of the younger ones had saddle mark- ings that embarrassingly coincided with the color of Pincher’s back, and Austin pointed to this fact as proof that the malemiut was not a new addition to the pack. “T’m not interested in that,”’ Johnny de- clared. ‘‘What I want to know is whether we can sell the six pelts as ‘cross fox’ !” It was late afternoon when the skins were stacked outside the cabin, and then the chums skated to the end of the lake to pick up the traps and skis dropped by West before he fled from the pack. They carried no rifles now. Pincher ran beside them and, in a friendly race, demonstrated that his four paws easily could out-pace an expert skater on — a straight-away dash. Johnny McKee was losing his prejudice against the dog, but his friend agreed that a probation period was needed before the black fellow could be accepted as a pet. The grotesque bump made by the hatchet on his head had subsided, but the bunches of muscle on either jaw were as large as a man’s fist and his fangs remained as ter- rible as ever. But after breakfast next morning, when the ski sledges were piled high with duffel and pelts, the Canadian suddenly achieved admiration for the malemiut. The dog’s actions at first were puzzling as he trotted CS (E(0)