Adventure, August 1917 — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

128 “Good old sport,’”’ muttered Loudon. “No wonder the British hold their fron- tiers.”’ mor «THE natives were beginning to Feed drift rapidly toward and past them, 08 their eyeballs gleaming in the dusk of the forest as the girl shouted to them in their own tongue to keep their rifles. Some carried javelins but the majority were de- fenseless. : The little band of whites held their fire until they could distinguish friend from foe. Toruki’s force seemed well~supplied with cartridges, for the fusillade was heavy though the aim was poor. Most of the bul- lets buried themselves in the higher branches and every wasted shot helped to reduce the odds. Loudon saw the great bulk of a man re- treating slowly. It was Rotorua, backing through the brush like a gorilla, roaring de- fiance to Toruki and trying to rally his men. A red stream poured down his back from a wound that had creased his shoulder. Lou- don’s gift-ax was slung across .his_ back. He had no rifle but carried a sheaf of throw- ing-spears in his left hand and one poised in his right. The pursuers began to show up, firing from cover. There was no sign of the men from the schooner and Loudon imagined them still working over the empty safe or looting the bungalow in a vain attempt to locate the treasure. He shouted to the king just as the latter hurled a javelin that flashed through a stray sunbeam and found its mark. A native leaped high from the undergrowth, shrilling his death wail, trans- fixed by the spear. Rotorua swung toward Loudon. ‘““Eyah, white man,” he called and his arm shot upward with a ready javelin. The girl shouted to him as Loudon called out that they were friends. The monarch’s fiery eyes changed from suspicion to sur- prise and then to joy. ‘““Give me a gun,” he cried. It was Mrs. Gower who handed him a freshly loaded rifle and he gave her a look that was ludicrous in its inquiry. He jumped behind the next tree to Loudon as a spear whizzed past. : “They blow up cartridge,’ he said. “Catch us asleep. My guns no good now, only to keep. Those —— Toruki fellows come along too quick. No time. Suppose I Adventure have gun and spear , 1 run them into sea. Where you come from?” Loudon hastily explained. The king bellowed to his men and they started -to run for safety. The enemy was showing in force and the rain of bullets increased. Arrows flickered by and spears sank into the trees. The position was untenable. ‘““Where to?” asked Loudon. ‘“‘We go along tapu place, up mountain. That good place to fight.” ‘All right, king, we’ll cover the retreat.” A group of Toruki’s men leaped into an opening with exultant yells that changed in tune before the withering fire that was concentrated upon them. A weird figure, wigged with long gray hair and girdled with a flowing fringe of black tresses, sprang from a clump and urged them forward. It was Toruki, in his sorcerer’s war costume of gray beards and the hair of dead women, half of his demoniac face smeared with red ocher, a smoking rifle in his hand. The little rear-guard fell back through the thick brush, bent for concealment and Toruki came on warily. The sight of Lou- don had evidently bothered him and he spread out his men fan fashion, pushing cautiously forward. The forest became more open and the ground crested to a ridge. They were near- ing the verge of the woods. A backward glance showed Loudon the king’s men rac- ing along a naked spiny spur and grouping before some obstacle. “Bad place,’ grunted Rotorua. “All same like edge of spear. Take time cross. Better we hurry.” The pursuit had slowed up a little with the lessening trees and they made a run for it. On either side the ridge sloped sharply to a gulf. Ahead of them the last native was treading a strip of lava less than a foot wide, balancing himself like a tight- rope performer. Midway a shot struck him and he threw up his arms, spinning about before he rolled into the cafion. Mrs. Gower balked at the perilous pas- sage. ‘“‘T can never get over that,” she said with decision. ‘‘Not in my skirts.” The king, with the sergeant and Loudon were kneeling, firing at sight. The latter turned to the widow. ‘“fRide it,” he cried. “Like a saddle. Hitch yourself along. And, for Heaven’s sake, hurry.” cCoOmiclsoo CO 5}