Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

6 aboard a lugger, and carried off safely to France. So now, when the riding-cloak had been adjusted to her satisfaction, and her hat tilted at just the proper angle, she stamped her heel upon the hearth with all the sense of joyous freedom that being a boy again meant to her. “T am ready,” she announced, and held out her hand to General Sidney, who kissed it gallantly, as if he had been a Royalist, and then, laughing, gave it a mighty squeeze that made her wince. ‘“‘How now, Monsieur!” he laughed, with a twinkle in his eye. “Thou must have a man’s hand-clasp.”’ bs She answered him with a roguish wink, and then, shadows chasing the smile from her eyes, threw herself into her father’s arms. ‘“‘And now, my child,” said he, “‘the hour of parting has come. Thou must go. to Cousin Mountford, and say to him ‘i “Upon my soul, Chillingworth,” inter- rupted Sidney, “more instructions! By my word, thou art an old grandmother. I warrant the maid will carry the message without dropping an ‘h,’ and that she wiil be safely at Mountford’s house before you can say ‘Jack Robinson.’ ” “Of course I will,’ replied Nancy. “The Calais coach leaves within the half- hour—so be off with you, sir, and accept our apologies for not accompanying you thither, which might frustrate all our plans at last. Now, out the back entry with you, Mon- sieur Luronne, and we will watch the coach from the window, and do you hang out the signal—your hat—that we may safely count upon your departure having been made.” Nancy smiled at the nickname which had been bestowed upon her. She clasped Gen- eral Sidney’s hand, threw herself into her father’s arms, kissed him—and the door had swung to softly behind her, and the two men were Standing there alone in the little room, looking at each other searchingly in the gathering dusk, and straining their ears for the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. CHAPTER II YELLOW EYES T WAS with a brave show of more courage than she really felt that Mon- sieur Luronne left her father and General Sidney and set forth upon her mission. Adventure Now, as she stood in the narrow street in the gathering gloom, she was half-minded to fly back up the stairs; but the importance of the task that lay before her, and the thought that the Calais coach must be even then standing at the Golden Rabbit, with its six horses slobbering at their bits, and the postilions taking their farewell drinks at the tap-room, and that it would soon be off into the night, leaving her behind if she did not bestir herself, spurred her into action. With a quick glance up and down the dim street, streaked here and there with lit- tle paths of light that streamed through shop windows and half-opened doors, she drew her cloak about her, and fell in behind a couple of soldiers who passed that way, laughing and jesting. The Golden Rabbit was at the end of the street, only a short distance from the rooms over a pastry-cook’s shop, which her father had taken when they arrived at Lille; and Nancy quickly found herself in the brick - paved courtyard, mingling with the throng of soldiers, stable-boys, travelers setting out upon a journey, or else return- ing from one, and a horde of vagabonds and beggars, and street-hawkers screaming their wares, and arguing vocifcrously with pros- pective customers. Under an archway at the corner the marketmen from the coun- tryside were already gathering their carts, from which peeped baskets of greens, and sides of bacon, and plump fowls, and appe- tizing rolls of butter, wrapped in the green leaves of the vine, and sleepy-eyed children, all in a happy jumble. Rough, shaggy ponies and uncombed little donkeys, unharnessed for the night, lay between their shafts, or contentedly nib- bled their turnip-tops, spread for them upon the flagstones. Pigs squealed, hens cackled, ducks and geese squawked, and bereaved cows called plaintively for their calves, for which a lively bargaining was already in progress. Torches gleamed in the murky evening air, and cast dancing shadows upon the crowds of farmers and drovers, making ready for the market-day upon the morrow, so that Mistress Nancy, seeing what sort of company she was in, and realizing that so far nobody had recognized her, or given her so much as a second look, felt her spirits rise; and so, shaking off a momentary fear of recognition, was thus all the more pro- tected against it, and when she sought the CoOMmMichoooks (CO