Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

142 “You—a trooper!’ she cried. “You want him—you!”’ “There was that thing at Wild Horse Rocks,” he said dully. ‘““Ves—yes!”’? she murmured breathlessly, “but why you?” “T didn’t know. Believe me, Marian, I didn’t know who he was until I made Mason’s, forty miles above here.” She walked away a few steps and stood leaning against a stunted tree, looking out into the bush. For what seemed a long time she neither spoke nor moved. High in the air a solitary crow cawed dejectedly. The silence became oppressive, and the trooper nervously mopped his brow. With- out turning, she said— “Suppose you find him?” “Vesp”? “What will you do?” “Bring him in.” “But,” she said slowly, “he will fight.” **Perhaps.”’ “You may—kill him?” He made no answer. When she came back to him her face was calm. ‘‘Max,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking up into his eyes, “take me away. Take me home.” ‘‘[—I—when I—”’ the trooper stammered painfully. “No, Max, now!” “T can’t.” _ He made a gesture of help- lessness. “Please!” “Marian!” “Take me out of this. I am a young woman. I wanthappiness, I haven’t hadit.” “T’ll take you safely.” “T know—when you come back. But you may never come back. There is death out there.” The slight quiver of her hands, which still were on his shoulders, made his blood leap. Then, without warning, her head dropped on her outstretched arms and she shook with sobs. The trooper, his face white and strained, petted her with hungry hands and drew her to him so that her head rested on his shoulder. “All my life,’’ she said softly, “TI felt I needed only to call you and you would come. And I called, I prayed, Max, and you came. Are you going to leave me, now?” But the man said nothing. “Max,” she said, and hesitated, ‘‘you Adventure love me, don’t you?” Her voice was steady, but a deep red flooded her cheeks. He made a sound, and his big hands tightened until they hurt her. “T can’t say any more. But if you—” she struggled hard to say it—“‘if you go out there and—and if you kill him—you can hardly come back to me.” She waited in fear for his answer. “No,” he said hoarsely. ‘“Please!’’ she cried piteously, and clung to him. The trooper looked down into her face, at her eyes wet with tears, at her soft lips slightly parted, and resolutely, almost roughly, released her. ‘“‘God help me, if I should kiss you now.” He turned from her and walked up and down deep in thought. ‘Back there,” he said, pointing over his shoulder, “‘you will find Bluey, my camel. If I don’t get back inside of three weeks, take all the water you can pack and head straight for the sunrise. You will come toa wagon trail. Turn on it and go south.” He took her hands and kissed them, and smiled. She stood where he left her, a slender, weary little figure in the ridiculous blue robe, and watched him go. WZ great arch above, pouring its white fire down on the mallee scrub; this in turn beat it back until the air quivered. The flat plain swam uncertainly in the heat haze, and the distant line of the horizon reeled and tilted drunkenly. Small black lizards darted from side to side or rested in the scanty shade of the low bushes, mouths open and sides beating as they panted; spiders, some of them four inches from toe to toe, slid noiselessly across the path, leaving behind curious markings like the trail of a child’s toy; ants every- where scrambled unwearyingly over scorch- ing pebbles and parched twigs; and flies, fiercely hungry, attacked like hornets. In all the plain, it seemed, the only sound was the soft tread of the trooper’s feet in the red soil, varied by an occasional cough as the penetrating dust, kicked up by his shoes, eddied into his throat and choked him. On into the night he went, the big south- ern moon paling the silent wastes and seem- ing to note with quiet surprise the single II THE SUN rolled slowly over the COMmiclsoo CO