Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

Ambush and followed. Father Andrews splashed out on his heels, and after the priest ran the four middlemen, carrying the arms and packs and rent canoe upon their heads. They left no dripping water trail if any one should search, for the rocks for yards around were wet with the spray of the rapids, and once off the rocks they staggered up the granite bed of a little spring that trickled the length of a deep ravine. ‘ clambered over lichened stones, dank moss carpets and beds of fern as green as chrysoprase. Through the vloom of the pines, treading soundless as shosts upon the fallen needles, they passed and came out on rolling ground forested with silvery birch. They had worked over half a mile from the river, and in a tiny clearing Missowa let down his burden upon a bed of dry leaves. Waseyawin pushed Joan to a seat upon a mossy rock beside and, taking a rifle from the middlemen who crowded up, glided back to keep watch upon the river. Father Andrews seized one of the packs and from it extracted the medicine kit he was accustomed to carry in his ministering among the Indians. It contained a flat tin flask full of brandy, and, using the screw- cap, the priest poured a few spoonfuls be- tween Carlisle’s lips and began to chafe him while Missowa cut away the water-soaked, blood-stained moccasin from his leg. “A flesh wound,”’ announced the Ojibway unemotionally, baring the calf and manipu- lating the leg to feel for a break. The bones are sound.” “That’s good!”? Andrews exclaimed. “TI was afraid the jagged rocks had broken it clean.” “But, Ayumeaookemou (priest), it was not the rocks.” “‘Ah-hah! What then?” “It was the Free-Trader’s bullet, and had it not been for the twist of my paddle, it would have been through the Factor’s heart!” Father Andrews gave a startled exclama- tion. His eyes met Missowa’s, fell to the bullet-torn limb and then shifted quickly to Joan’s face. He and Missowa had been talking in Cree, but he realized all at once that she understood the language. She could not speak for the sash over her mouth, yet into her eyes flooded a silent AT THE head of the ravine they 25 eloquence, surprise, commiseration, anxiety —yes, something deeper, Andrews thought! She rose from the rock. One of the mid- dlemen made as if to stop her, but the priest shook his head, and she came and stood be- hind while they worked upon Carlisle. For nearly an hour they persisted before he showed signs of returning consciousness. Missowa had the leg bathed, the bullet-rip rinsed with pure water from a spring near-by, poulticed with healing balsam gum, brought from the ridge beyond the clearing, and all neatly bandaged before the Factor’s eyes opened. When they did open upon the mask-like mosquito veil of the priest, upon Missowa’s swarthy face with the surface lights in the black eyes gleaming in solicitation almost akin to tenderness, upon Joan standing there in her gag and bonds, Carlisle felt himself still in the nightmare of the canoe smash. ““‘Wha—at—what under the—” he began in shaky syllables. “Don’t talk too loud,’’ warned Father Andrews. ‘‘We’re hidden here from the Free-Traders, and voices carry far in the forest.” “The Free-Traders are gone,”’ spoke the voice of Waseyawin who glided like a wraith out of the gloom of the pines. ‘““They came searching at the foot at the rapids. They found all our paddles, the nose-cloth of the Golden Daughter and one pack that was washed away. It was the nose-cloth that set Shining Horns to weeping.” “They think the canoe sunk and all of us drowned?”’ demanded Carlisle. “So,” answered Waseyawin. ‘The grief of Shining Horns was terrible to see. I think he would have cast himself into the whirlpool had not others led him away. They dared not wait long, these others, for fear of the French Company’s men behind. They went on with our own men as pris- oners in their canoes, and it is well they went, because Black-beard and his followers came after. I waited to see if that would come to pass before I left my watch.” “Your eyes are good, my Cree brother,”’ eulogized Missowa, “even as good as your paddle in white water. Now that Shining Horns and his men are gone Golden Daugh- ter may be freed.” With deft hands the Ojibway unknotted the sash and whipped it back on his waist, at the same time handing Waseyawin the fillet for his head. COnnicloo S (C@