Adventure, August 1917 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

52 looking down at the shapeless, inert mass at his feet he hoped that he had killed. If the physical fitness of a century of right living had culminated in an irresistible force, the moral training of many centuries and the right thinking of a lifetime had been obliterated by the persistency of the primi- tive. Perhaps, as he had acted instinctively, it was instinct that led Stanton across the body of his opponent toward the rear of the store. The door to the small room was fastened with a hasp and padlock. The young missionary shook it and called: ‘Joan! Joan! Are you there?” _ No answer came. Stanton’s frenzy re- turned and he threw himself against the door. It would not give. He ran back, grasped a leg of the dismembered chair and thrust it behind the hasp. One pull and the clinched staple straightened and came out. The room into which Stanton rushed was windowless and little light reached it from the front of the store. In the darkness he paused a moment and called Joan’s name. In answer came a dull, soft thump on the floor. “Joan!” cried Stanton, groping toward the sound. ‘“‘Joan! Where are your” - There was only a faint thump and Stan- ton, now on his hands and knees, crawled toward it. His haiids touched her body where it lay in the darkest corner. “Joan,” he begged. ‘‘Why don’t you an- swer?”’ She squirmed slightly beneath his touch and he at once ran his hands up to her face, where they felt the gag Fleenor had so skil- fully bound. Stanton rose to his feet and picked Joan up. He carried her out into the light in the store and laid her down. ‘“‘And he left you in there like that!’”’ he exclaimed when her eyes met his and he was reaching for his knife. ‘I hope I killed him.” : He cut the rope which held the gag in place and drew it from her mouth. He cut the rope about her ankles and then turned her over and cut those which held her wrists behind her back. As Joan lay on her side she saw Fleenor near her. Her jaws were cramped and stiff, and it was a wry, crooked little smile she gave Stanton. Her lips moved painfully, and at last she spoke. “T heard you,” she said. “But Stanton” Adventure —and a look of sympathy swept across her face—“‘you’re hurt! Your face is a mass of blood, and there’s a piece of wood sticking into your shoulder.” “T’m not hurt,” he protested, and he meant it, for no pain had yet penetrated the red veil which had cut off so completely the every-day world. “But Joan! How long have you been there, and did he hurt you?” He glared at the helpless body on the floor until Joan laughed. “I’m just stiff and sore, is all,’ she said as she struggled to her hands and knees. “Help me up, Stan. My, what a looking place this is!’’ “But are you all right?” he insisted as he helped her to a bench beside the wall. “I will be when I’ve had a drink of water,’ she answered as she began to rub her ankles. ‘‘My mouth and throat are dry as a bone from that cloth.” As Stanton turned to the water-pail which usually set behind the door, Mrs. Knox burst in, out of breath, her eyes lighted with anger rather than apprehen- sion. . “The wolf!’ were her first words when she saw Fleenor lying on the floor. ‘‘Now you'll know I was right! The wolf!” and she walked over and glared down at the defenseless and unconscious trader. “Is he dead?” she asked. “T don’t know,” answered Stanton with an entire lack of concern. “I haven’t looked to find out.” ‘“‘He’s harmless at least,”’ said Mrs. Knox as she turned back to the others. “But what happened to you, Stanton? You’re a sight, boy. Let me get that blood off your face.” “Never mind me!” retorted the young man irritably. ‘‘Did Mush-to-we come back?” “Goodness no! I started after you and didn’t wait to see. Where was she going in such a hurry?” Stanton did not answer. The wave of triumph which had come with the conquest of Fleenor had not receded. He had fought for Joan and he had saved her. It was a fair fight and he had risked every- thing, had passed close to death. By rights she was his, as she always should have been, as she would be now. It was un- thinkable that he should do this merely for another, and when he answered Mrs. Knox, it was listlessly, wearily. CoOMmiclsoo © 5}