Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

A Ledge blowing—might have disturbed it and sent him whirling through the air down into the stable yards and kitchen gardens three hun- dred feet below. With bated breath the three men watched him, Tom paying out the line with greatest care, that there might be neither strain nor slack, Stowell clutch- ing the stone door-jamb as though he would crush it in his grasp, and Mr. Grey, leaning from the doorway, holding one of the old Colts that had done such terrible service in days of yore, ready for any intrusive head that might appear. ee did appear. The attention of nearly every one was directed toward the front of their houses that day. And at last, after a journey which, to the watchers, seemed hours long, Jack reached the door of the Torrenegro house. By luck, it was open—but then, few people thought of closing doors that only opened on to vacant space. Jack pulled himself up so that he could throw one knee over the sill and gain the floor. Then, unreeving the heavy line of which he had spoken, he bent its end to the thin cord that he had carried with him. “Haul it in! Stretch it as tight as you can and then make it fast!”’ he called, and ran into the house. Once inside he had to stop and blink until his eyes became in a measure accus- tomed to the semi-darkness of shuttered rooms. ‘There was no need for Jack to search for those whom he was trying to rescue. The sound of crashing timbers and the crackle of shots guided him at once to the great front doors. These doors, of massive wood riveted to heavy boiler-plate, had stood well, but now, sorely battered by the heavy timbers which had unceasingly been hurled against them, they had begun to yield. ‘They winked with each blow, letting in a gleam of sun- shine, and then, as the battering-rams re- bounded, shutting it out again. ‘Before these doors a table had been moved, and seven repeating rifles laid upon it. By the table stood old General Torre- ‘negro, soldierly and straight, waiting for the fight to begin, which, doubtless, would be his last. Helen, white and trembling, yet cool with the coolness of desperation, stood close by, a tiny pistol, hardly more than a toy, clutched in her,hand. Here FORTUNATELY, however, none - effect an entrance. of Safety 973 and there Indian or half-breed servants crouched, whimpering, against the wall. Taking in the scene at a glance, Jack wasted no time in greeting. ‘‘Come!” he cried, grasping an arm of each and pulling them toward the rear of the house. ‘‘There’s a way out—if you hurry!” General Torrenegro permitted himself only one astonished look at the sudden ad- vent of a total stranger in his barricaded house while the authorities of the so-called republic were trying, thus far vainly, to But he knew well that there was no time to waste in questions. Deciding with the quickness of an old sol- dier that this extraordinary person was more likely to be friend than foe, he picked up one of the rifles and, yielding, was led to the rear door. Helen, guided by Jack, came submissively, like one who walks in a wak- ing dream of horror. Even the old General, brave man though he had proved himself a thousand times to be, turned pale at the sight of the path he was to follow. The heavy line that had™= been stretched from one door to the other made the passage far easier and safer than it had been when negotiated by Jack, it is true; but still it was sufficiently appalling to one who had not made perilous “face- climbs” for pure sport. The General glanced at his stepdaughter. “You go first, sir,” suggested Jack re- spectfully. “The line ought to be tested. Slip it outside of you, and don’t look down.” Without a word, General Torrenegro slipped over the door-sill and, with Jack’s help, found the ledge. Facing outward, grasping the line with both hands and keep- ing his eyes tightly closed so as not to see the void beneath his feet, he sidled away. Jack turned to Helen. ““You see it’s easy,”’ said he, in a tone in- tended to carry encouragement. “It'll be your turn in a minute, now.” “‘T can’t!” she replied, in a whisper. ‘But you must!” he exclaimed in return. “Don’t you see? It’s not hard, if you keep your head, and don’t be——” “T’m not frightened,” she interrupted. “That is, not in the ordinary way. But my body—not my mind—has a horror of heights. I can’t help it! My knees tremble and give way. I can’t doit. Rather than try, I'll stay here, and—well, do what I may to keep Borja from getting me. I can do that. The other I can’t, that’s all!” COmiclbook C©