Adventure, August 1917 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

The Northwoman man now turned demon. And at the thought all the anger and indignation of the last few months culminated in a burst of fury, not against the Indian, but against the white man who was responsible for it. Searles, thinking only of protecting the women, with only the city man’s idea of an Indian on the war-path, had stopped to find some weapon. He knew that, with an ax and a knife, the Indian would be formid- able at close quarters. Nothing but a battering ram would suffice. Beside the trail he found a long, heavy pole. Balanc- ing ten feet of it before him, he charged full tilt into the Indian. But behind the wild, glaring eyes of the savage was an animal cunning that the whisky seemed only to have increased. Ap- parently unconscious of Searles’s advance, the Indian waited. Then, just as the pole reached him, he jumped to one side, dropped both ax and knife and wrenched Wallace’s weapon from his hands. Swinging the great, long club as a flail, the red man advanced upon his opponents. Wallace recovered himself just in time to scramble back in retreat with Bancroft and Mrs. Knox. By common divination, the two men realized that the only method of attack by which they might overcome the now thoroughly infuriated madman was _ to separate. Quickly they got the Indian between them. ‘Then each attempted to get possession of the knife and the ax. But the Indian, suspecting their purpose, whirled and charged back, driving Stanton into the lake and Wallace into the brush. Giving up the idea of getting possession of the weapons, the two men went at him again from opposite sides. Wallace was ' nearer and the Indian charged first at him. But the long pole was an unwieldly weapon and as it circled around it half dragged him off his feet. As he tottered Stanton rushed from behind and grasped the red man about the waist. Whatever the effect of the whisky upon the Indian’s mind, there seemed to be none upon his physical self. With a mighty wrench he whirled himself within Stanton’s embrace. Then with a push as powerful he freed himself from the young missionary and flung him to the ground, where he lay without moving. At that instant Wallace, charging with all his speed and weight, struck from behind. 19 In the fleeting moment of Stanton’s defeat the other had realized the strength and agility of his adversary. He realized, too, the danger of having his hold shaken off. With Stanton unconscious, upon Wallace lay the entire responsibility of protecting the two women and of saving the life, if there was life to save, of the young mis- sionary. He saw that those long, powerful arms must be imprisoned and that the man must be disabled quickly or his own strength would give out. But without personal contact Wallace could not realize the Indian’s frenzied strength. No sooner had he flung his arms about the red man and felt the power of his opponent than he knew the futility of his plan. Despairingly he exerted every ounce of strength within him, and even as he did so he knew that he had failed. ; Hardly had he been flung from his’ hold than the red man was upon him. The conflict had taken them nearer to the water than either had realized and as the Indian threw his arms around Wallace their feet slipped and the two rolled over into the lake. The white man was beneath as they fell and the Indian held him there. The frenzy of a drowning man lent strength to Wallace, but struggle as he would he could not get up. The Indian seemed only to sit upon him and hold his head under. After a moment, Wallace’s efforts became more feeble. His chest seemed about to burst. Everything turned black and he lost consciousness. When he opened his eyes it was to find Mrs. Knox working his arms up and down vigorously. ‘“‘There, you’re all right,’”’ she exclaimed. She jumped up at once and hurried to Joan’s side. Wallace turned his head and saw the girl deftly lashing the Indian’s hands behind his back. Mrs. Knox began at once. to tie the man’s moccasined feet together. Their work completed, they both lifted on one side and turned their prisoner over on his back. The man’s face was black and distorted. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks and forehead were streaked with blood that ran in streams from a gash on his right temple. “‘He’ll do no more harm now for a while,” commented Mrs. Knox as she arose from her work. “No, let him bleed,” as Joan began to stop the flow of blood with a cCoMmiclbooks CO 5}