Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

68 and he perused the stream as a student cons a book. At last he called to the others. They came out and stood with him. “Boys,” he said slowly, ‘‘this country is not the same as it is back yonder where we came from. The sands and rocks and strata are different. But gold is gold. There are rules and laws that apply toit that hold good here as well as in the States.” “What y’ giving us, a lecture on geol- ogy?” queried James, his partner, winking slyly at the others. Harte’s face flushed but he smiled. ‘Don’t crowd me, Lon, I’m coming to it. Look down yonder.” He pointed far below. ‘Do you see how that creek wrings and twists but always keeps going down until it butts up against that spur? Then it turns right straight back for several hundred feet before turning down the moun- tain again.” Brewer slapped his leg excitedly. “TI get you. If any gold ever traveled down that creek it’s right there at that turn now. You couldn’t build anything better for catching gold. The only thing is, did any ever travel down it? Has that creek ever unearthed any pockets of gold or broke down any rotten gold-bearing quartz? If it ever has, we can find out at that turn.” The whole party began to talk excitedly. They shouldered their packs and began to pick a way down the face of the cliff. Nearing the bend, Dan Murdock began torun. The others hastened also and were close at his heels when he dashed down the bank and into the waters to his knees. He grappled on the bottom with his hands and came up with a double handful of great ellow nuggets. Tears were in his eyes and he was choking with sobs as he stood facing the others. Gibbs was the next to spring in beside him. His eyes were dancing wildly with the gold lust that had fired his brain. “Gold! Yellow gold!’ he shouted. “A whole river of it. boys but we’ve struck it rich at last.”’ He began to scoop up double handfuls of gold and pile it on the rawhide which he had spread on the bank. The others waded in and soon the entire party was busy as ants. _ The bottom of the stream was actually paved with gold. It was, in truth, the end of the rainbow. | A stick snapped sharply on the bank above. Gibbs jumped as if shot and We’ve been through hell Adventure scarcely glancing upward he sprang out of the creek upon the opposite bank. He snatched the rawhide with a swoop of his arm as he passed and dived over and behind a huge boulder where he lay sprawling with his heart pounding like a trip-hammer in his throat. The others made a stand. They had found the gold and it was theirs. They dropped the carbines into position and faced toward the danger from which Gibbs had fled. In an instant the air was full of ar- rows and blow-gun darts. The great heavy bone and stone-barbed arrows thudded into their flesh with a sickening sound while the darts struck and hung like porcupine quills from faces and clothing. To live, to survive, must have been as strong within each of them as it was within Hughie Gibbs, yet each man 'stood his ground. And no man voiced an outcry. An arrow had punctured Harte’s neck from throat to spine and the blood was gurgling from both sides. He seized the barbed end and pulled it through. Then he sprang for the top of the bank. The others were at his side. He was bristling with arrows as he gained the top. At the top of the bank they met a semi- circle of several hundred Indians. From the faces of these savages the marks of every human feeling except ferocity and cruelty had been eradicated. They were human wolves seeking their prey. The bow thongs whined as they sped the great flechas into the bodies of the eight white men. The blow guns were puit-putt-putting like the exhaust of speed boats. Then the thirty-thirties began to bark. The eight men stood shoulder to shoulder. Each one was mortally wounded but no one flinched back. They were shooting with deadly intent. They felt that they must die but were trying to even the score as much as possible. ‘They piled the Indians in windrows. When the guns were empty they snatched the revolvers from their belts and fired them left-handed as they. slipped a fresh supply of shells into the carbines with their right hands. The Indians wavered. Never had they met with creatures who fought as these did. Then they surged forward. They were met with a volley that piled another row behind the others. Each man was spurting blood from a hundred different wounds but Tom Harte CoOMmiclsoo CO