Adventure, August 1917 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

The Northwoman incredulity. ‘Let him shoot you down in cold blood that way! Let a breed kill you, Wallace! Why a She stopped and stared at him. The young man was conscious that she was look- ing through and past him rather than studying his face. In her eyes was an ex- pression akin to that which Stanton had missed in the canoe, which would have baffled the missionary as it now baffled the engineer. For, while Wallace could not definitely indicate a single change in Joan, he recog- nized instantly that this was not the same girl he had last seen running merrily up to the mission the night before. He recog- nized somehow that this was no longer a girl but a woman, that in less than twenty- four hours she had been transformed. But vague as was this change, there was some- thing less vague in the message it carried. For an instant the mere suggestion of it left him dizzy. Then Joan stepped ashore. ‘“‘Help me with Stan,’’ she commanded. ‘‘What on earth happened to him?” cried Wallace as he bent over the canoe. ‘Why, Joan, he is all battered up and covered with blood.” “He’s all right,’”’ she answered almost carelessly. ‘‘He’ll come to in a little while. It’s just over-exertion and loss of blood. Help me get him into the shade on shore and I’ll bathe his face and wrap up that cut in his shoulder.” Stanton was heavy and nothing is harder to move than the body of an unconscious man. Joan, however, was practical if not the most considerate. Wallace had tried to lift him from the canoe but could not do so. “Take his arm on that side,’”’ said the girl, “and I'll take this one. Now we can drag him out.” In a few seconds the missionary was lying on the moss in the shade of the birch saplings on the bank. ‘“‘Now fill your hat with water and bring it to me,”’ Joan commanded as she began to unbutton Stanton’s shirt and examine the wound in his shoulder. It had ceased to bleed and she saw that it would not even require bandaging until they had returned to the mission. ‘“You found your river,”’ she said as Wal- lace returned with the water. ‘Vou found it,” he answered. ‘Or, you told me where it was. How did you know it was here? I passed this place twice and never suspected it.”’ ‘such dangers. o7 “T was passing yesterday afternoon and happened to remember this little neck of the bay and came in to see if it wasn’t the place.” “Yesterday afternoon,” repeated Wal- lace. Why, Joan——” ‘And isn’t it lucky that it did happen,”’ interrupted the girl quickly. ‘‘Now you can go ahead and install your power-plant without being bothered by the falls and, when everything is ready, tumble these hills down across the falls here and have the others back again, as good as new.” “It has some fortunate features,” he ad- mitted absently. ‘‘But you haven’t told me how Mr. Bancroft happened to be bat- tered up so. He looks as if a horse had kicked him in the face.” “Yes, but I think he is happy just the same. You see, he got to the bottom of the whisky business this morning, only there wasn’t any whisky at the bottom after all.” “You mean an Indian did that to him?”’ ‘“‘No, Gus Fleenor. Fleenor has been mixing hashish in tobacco and selling it to the Indians. It has been the drug, not alcohol, that has been causing all the trouble. I went over to the post this morn- ing to buy some tea and stole a package of the tobacco to try it. Fleenor saw me and tied and gagged me and hid me in the back room of his store. Stan thought there was something the matter when I didn’t come back and went over. He and Fleenor had it out. I think he killed Fleenor. He hadn’t moved when we left.” “Then you discovered this plot and hur- ried to save me,” interrupted Wallace. ‘“‘And Bancroft let you come, let you run And you’ve been in the power of that Fleenor. It’s horrible, Joan. You can’t realize the kind of man he was. He’s different than any of the men you find up here.” ‘“‘No,” she answered, and there was a sig- nificance in her tone that Wallace did not get, “he was not of the North country.” “He was of the scum of the cities!” Wallace exclaimed. “TI placed him the first time I saw him. He is the kind that runs the saloons patronized by thieves and thugs. It was there that he learned what aprofitable business the selling of drugs can be, espe- cially to uncivilized people. He was proba- bly hard pressed by the police and got the idea he could make a fortune selling to the CoOMmiclsoo CO S|