Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

Forbidden Treasure side of Sigurda that fronts the valley, we should be in a position to see the jutting beak of the Rock of Half. Indeed, I don’t see why it could not be seen from the deck of the yacht itself.” Berwind, who had gone behind his friend and was staring upward at the cliff under his shaded eyes, gave an unsteady laugh. “There is no beak sticking out from that wall, my dear fellow. ‘The rock is as flat as a tray and as tight as a drum.” “But it’s red!” cried Stuart, who had backed away too and was staring upward. “So it is,” said Berwind. “But what good does that do us?” “But this must be the place,’ persisted Stuart. ‘ Yet—it surely is not here! If the Red Rock of Half were covered by the glacier there would be less than five hundred feet of height exposed above the surface of the ice. If the rock existed at all it would be exposed to our view.”’ “OQ. E. D.,” retu’ned Berwind. “It does not exist.” “My eye is fairly accurate in computing distance,” said Stuart slowly, ‘‘and I am certain that splotch of red is exactly the location where the Red Rock ought to be. I must say that is adding aggravation to injury.” Berwind himself drew in a sigh. ‘“‘I am bitterly disappointed,” he said simply. “I dare say it is all a fairy-story.” More disappointed than either of them would care to say, they began the leaden retreat. It had been a wild idea, after all. They had pinned their faith to an old wife’s tale and gone in search of buried treasure like addle-pated boys. When they swung themselves up to the ledge again and faced about toward the. table-land they noticed light fluffy masses of what appeared to be steam blowing to- ward them. Berwind was puzzled by it, but Stuart, with a frantic exclamation, hurried forward on the perilous footing. Then, as they rounded the turn again, Berwind stopped. ‘‘By George! It’s fog,” he said, ‘Cas thick as a linen sheet!” The fog rolled over them like great clouds of smoke, as they made their way back to the others. Mr. Lee, grinding the snow be- neath impatient feet, came shivering up to them. ‘Nothing, of course? Perhaps you will tell me now what we are going to do?”’ He flung out his hand toward the fiord which was filled, like a cup, with the icy vapor. 1023 “T can,” said Stuart. ‘We are going to eat some food and we are going to camp here till we can see our way down that cliff.” His cheerful voice braced them all. And only Nora ate her sandwiches in a con- temptuous silence and drank, without one word of gratitude, the coffee that he warmed in a boiling mud-spring. CHAPTER XXIV THE FOG AND THE GREENLAND FLOE @ Pats afternoon passed wearily. Under the fog the biting cold increased until the men had to keep moving constantly, call- ing toone another lest they lose their bearings inthe mist. Nora, wrapped in both rugs, sat in mournful silence and shivered and, it is to be feared, thought -unwomanly things about the silly old treasure that had landed them in such a difficulty. Toward night they finished the remains of the sandwiches and coffee—a dismal meal, for nothing bears immediate repetition so ill as a basket luncheon. Their talk was de- jected and merely speculative. What would the men on the yacht think had become of them? Would Katie be worried? When would the fog lift? Stuart and Berwind did their best toward keeping up the spirits of the party and in- deed the Doctor was gratified to find that Mr. Lee was bearing himself in the disagree- able ordeal with more fortitude than he had expected. ‘When the question of the arrangements for the night was discussed, Stuart’s good sense again served them. He turned his attention quietly to the manufacture of snow shelters. Berwind, under his friend’s direction, was playing assistant-builder, and Healy, complaining of soreness in his back, slowly imitated their movements in the construction of his own resting place. “Look, Nora, my dear!” cried Mr. Lee in high admiration. ‘Each one of us as snug as an Esquimau in his little zgloo!”’ In spite of himself, Stuart, as he bent over his task, listened for the girl’s reply; but not a word did she vouchsafe. ‘There now, at last,’’ said Stuart cheerily, straightening his stiffened back. “We are ready for occupancy. Front, show the gentleman to number 210! Ice-water runs in all rooms from the center spigot. Don’t C© MICLOOKS C©