Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

Days of the merrymakers in the gallery. Mr. Eve- lyn was the first to break the silence. ‘“‘And you say,” said he, ‘‘that this piece was chipped from one of the pigs of lead sold to Captain Morgan at Hispaniola?” Nancy, inarticulate, nodded in assent. “Sold, and never paid for in any way so- ever,” finished Captain Stillingfleet. ‘‘We didn’t get a ham!” The king snorted, a genuine plebeian snort, and turned upon young Stillingfleet a pitying glance. “And how many hams and shoulders would have recompensed you for this loss, think you? I warrant you ’twould take the fleets of England to fetch them home un- less you have as poor a head for commerce as for love.” ‘‘And were all the pigs of lead the same?” asked Mr. Isaacs. “They were all alike,” replied the girl. ‘How many of them, did you say?” “A. huge number, seven hundred and eighty in all.”’ Mr. Evelyn took from his pocket a small note-book and crayon, and figuring for a moment: “My liege,” he said, turning to the king, “in all probability Captain Henry Morgan Morgan 71 is bombarding Maracaibo at this moment with silver cannon-balls worth upward of 200,000 pounds. An’ he take the place, twill be the most costly victory ever your Majesty won.’ The king shrugged his shoulder and turned to leave, but paused a moment and taking Nancy’s hand, raised it to his lips. “Is there naught else I can do for you, my child?’ he asked. “Well, yes, your Majesty,” replied Mis- tress Chillingworth, feeling for Godfrey Stillingfleet’s hand and clasping it in her own. “You might give us your blessing.”’ “But I thought you were promised to an- other,” smiled Charles, a twinkle in his eye. “Not to another, my liege,’’ answered the girl, “but to this one, as you did guess, and I did see just now in his eyes a light that makes me bold to speak.’”? Whereat Captain Stillingfleet threw his shoulders back with a gasp, and she felt her fingers crushed in his great palm. “Bless you both,” laughed the king. ‘And, my boy, when you bring Lady Stil- lingfleet back to London, do not forget us at Whitehall.”’ He turned and left them looking into each other’s eyes. The Bullet By A. Judson Hanna THE little gray death runs everywhere, Up hill and down in the hollow; Goes snooping about to spy me out So swiftly no eye can follow. The gray little gadder may find me yet; Gray Sister, I I fear you not,’ Though your arms are cold and your manners bold, And your kisses are swift and hot. She laughs in the grass and sings in the sun, Or whistles a merry tune. Before or behind me, or ever you find me, I crave of you one small boon; Little gray ghost, come not to me When m And I walle comrades all sleeping lie, alone beneath the pale moon— Not thus, gray ghost, would I die. Give me one moment of fierce delight In the vortex of fighting men When the brown ranks close in the battle throes— If you must come, come to me then. CoOMmMichoooks CO