Adventure, August 1917 — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

Rotorua Rex that swept down from the pass he had crossed the night before, the wrinkled round of the sea showed clear, bordered by the emerald lagoon and the silvered beach where the coco-palms waved. And, be- tween the gusts, the throb of drums, inces- sant, augmenting, where the islanders were working themselves into a frenzy under the spur of Toruki’s ambition and the adven- turer’s greed. He returned to- the rest, leaving the sergeant to keep the ridge. At _ the girl’s request he told the story of his escape from the schooner and the crossing of the island and the king rolled approving eyes at him. “IT suppose they will tackle us from both sides eventually,” said Loudon. ‘Threaten us from the ridge while Toruki gets up by way of Moitapu. We are in no shape to stand arush. But the king says there is no chance of our getting out unless we cut our way through. And that, against the odds, with less than a quarter of our side properly armed, would be disastrous.”’ Rotorua had dropped his chin in his hand and sank into deep thought, looking once in a while at Loudon as if for in- spiration. ‘“Bimeby,” he said at last, “I think Toruki come along way, Ishow you. White men maybe try come along ridge same time. Suppose I had spear, I fight Toruki, I drive him over big cliff. Then, suppose white men come we fight them too, we go along Moitapu my motu. I get men from other island. Bimeby white men cartridges all go, we hunt them all same goats.” He looked at Loudon once more, doubt- fully as if struggling toward a resolution. “Laudoni,” he said finally. ‘‘This place tapu, oh veribig tapu. But I am not afraid this tapu because I am king. Below this a place plenty cave in cliff. All kings, all arz (chiefs) they bury along here. I, Rotorua, am nocoward. But I not like go along cave. Too many aitu live there. My father aztu, his father aitu. You are white man. May- be you not afraid to go. Maybe aziu not touch you along papalagi-your-god too strong. In cave plenty spear, plenty omare.”’ He spoke low and fearfully. Desperate as was their need, he feared the wrath of the ghosts against the rifler of the weapons left with them for their prowess and defense in the underworld. 131 Loudon jumped to his feet. “Show me the caves. Bristol can go along with me to tend rope if you’ll play sentry, Miss Hargrave.” CHAPTER XI DEAD MEN’S WEAPONS T° ONE side of the spur the crater wall bulged out in a cape that overhung the abyss like a chin. It was well covered from observation by the fin of the ridge unless some watcher should chance to have worked to a new position. That was un- likely and he had to take the hazard. He would be safe from rifle-shot at all events. It would take a powerful glance to pick him up from the lower levels. A rope was made of loin-cloths and , swing- ing to it, Loudon made his way beyond the projection, fending himself clear with his feet, going spiderwise down the face of the cliff above the dizzy abyss. Above, Ser- geant Bristol superintended the letting out of the impromptu cable, anchored by a dozen husky islanders. Rotorua stood frowningly by, awaiting the result of the desecration. The faces of his followers worked with superstition. To them, Lou- don was going to certain death. The caves were mere slits in the face of the precipice, blowouts from gases enlarged by the beat of storm. Loudon carried a bundle of dry branches for illumina- tion. The end of a ball of light string, dis- covered in the game bag, was about his wrist, leading to the sergeant as a signal- cord. He gave it a twitch and the men stopped paying out the rope. Passing as it did over the bump, it was a simple thing to swing himself to a footing on the threshold of the cave where he fastened the line about a split in the rock. The place smelled moldy. Bats and birds had desecrated the lofty tomb with their droppings and some of the winged mice fluttered out as he groped in. A twist of the cavity gave him a chance to light some of his branches. They flared up readily. On the floor were big, calabashes of wood checked by the weather, covered with rot- ting tapa cloth. Through the rents he could see the dull gleam of bones. The bodies of the dead chieftains had been cCoMmiclsoo CO S|