Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

42 “TI know,” blurted Carlisle guiltily. “TI heard you. Come on. Have you routed out the men?” “Mon Dieu, oui!’ exploded Eugene, catching him by the arm. ‘Some in deir shirts half-naked, some snorin’ in peeg sleep. An dose York boats’ crews fightin’ off t’ree. taims deir number!’’ The rest of his frenzied declamation was lost upon Carlisle, who, tearing his arm free and distancing Eugene, was bounding down to the lake edge in great, long strides. Al- ready he could see the York boats, three in number, sweeping-lined, long-prowed, eight- oared crafts, so huge as to be capable of holding one hundred bags of flour. They lay black as logs along the shore, and over them, poised on the gunwales, run- ning along the seats, trampling the cargoes, raged and surged a mob of fighting men. Even at that distance the Factor recognized the attackers as Free-Traders, Wayne’s men of the Missouri, men of the Mississippi, men of the Red, all mingled with his Cree and Chippewayan Indians. He saw the brown-bearded, long-jawed Mason, war-whooping his way through his opponents, and in the center of the mélée he caught a glimpse of Wayne, towcring to his great height, his copper-colored mustache flashing golden in the moonlight as he wrenched and struck. The York boats’ crews fought back with the oars and the long poles they had used for poling up the rapids, but Wayne’s force was too large for their meager numbers. Before Carlisle could reach the waterline the Free-Traders had swarmed over the York boats from stern to prow, pulled, dragged, knocked the crews overside into the shallow water and seized the oars. Then under the Factor’s astounded eyes another force struck the victors like a thunderbolt. All in a second the shore thickets gushed men, the very rocks of the earth seemed to spew them. One moment they were not, the next moment they were, as if borne up on the oscillations of an earth- quake or the breath of a tornado, North- westers all, outnumbering Wayne’s force as Wayne’s had outnumbered the York boats’ crews. In hiding from the first, their rush, timed to the fraction of a second, caught the Free- Traders in the moment of disadvantage, just in the act of replacing the oars in the locks. Carlisle could see that the Northwesters had Adventure a stout cable in their hands, stretched taut as arod, a score of men on either end. With a surge and splash they hurled themselves through the shallows, and like a giant scythe the taut cable cleared the York boats at one stroke, sweeping the Free-Traders overside like manikins from their perch. In a flash the cable was lashed onto the leading boat, the other boats lashed onto the first, and already the flotilla was being towed rapidly toward Richelieu’s post. As well as being equipped with a land-gate, the Northwest fort boasted a water-gate, part of the stockade extending out over the. water, enclosing a little harbor entered through a heavy log barrier that was raised by ropes on capstan-like drums inside. Carlisle saw that the water-gate stood open and that it was Richelieu’s plan to slide the York boats, cargoes and all, inside his palisades. He marked the Northwest leader at the head of the trackers, pulling, exhorting, cursing the clumsy. ‘“‘Name of a name, is it a hearse, then? And par Dieu, do not fall over your own feet. Quick! Quick! Straight ahead, and the sooner the better!” With an imprecation Carlisle took a run- ning leap from the shore, Drummond, Galt, Smoking Pine and the straggle of Cumber- land House men launching after, backed up by the dripping York boats’ crews. He landed with a geyser-like splash among the knot of trackers, grappling with the cursing Richelieu, his feet slipping upon the shelving rock. Together they went down in the shallows, rolling and wrenching. Half a dozen men fell on top of them. The boats, never stopping in their career, bumped them aside, and in the scramble Carlisle’s grip was torn from Richelieu. He found his footing again and staggered up, but as he emerged from the water a fly- ing oar blade caught him on the side of the head, knocking him, half-stunned, across the gunwale of one of the boats. In a daze he felt himself dragged along, half in, half out of the water. All about him surged shouting, snarling tangles of men, black as demons against the silver moonlight, his own adherents striking and tearing at the towers on the ropes, hacking at the lashing themselves, while the Northwesters fended them off. Occasionally a rifle spat out, but at too close quarters for indiscriminate shooting, in a maze where they hardly discerned friend CoOnnicloooks (C@