Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

Ambush from enemy, the Hudson’s Bay men smote with clubbed rifles, pieces of broken oars, rocks, knives, axes. Yet despite the weight of their attack the York boats were sliding foot by foot toward Richelieu’s water-gate. Within a few hundred feet of it Carlisle pulled himself up once more with a resurge of strength and cast himself into the fray. Knocking men right and left, he seized the last boat by the stern and with all the mighty power of his body swung it sidewise toward the shore. — “Eugene! Galt!” he importuned. of you there—hold the bows!” His idea was to turn the flotilla broadside on so that it could not enter the water-gate and thus delay it till more reinforcements could arrive from Cumberland House. Without a doubt the maneuver would have _ been successful had it not been for the length of the Northwesters’ cable. The loose end of it had been seized by men in the water-gate and whipped ’round one of the capstan-like drums inside. Oth- ers threw themselves on the bars, and with a wrench and run the flotilla was torn bodily from the hands of Carlisle and his com- panions and snaked through the water-gate. THE heavy log barrier dropped with a rumble and splash, and a loud cheer burst from the victorious Northwesters within. Still cheering, they ran to the palisades, and the hail of their bullets began to splat-splat in the shallows uncomfortably close to Carlisle and the rest. It was madness to crouch there in the moonlight, black targets for guns behind log walls. The Hudson’s Bay men paused only long enough to hurriedly shoulder their wounded and disabled and broke into a run for Cumberland House. As Carlisle lurched along in the rear he could discern the baffled Free-Traders off toward Fort Wayne, making for their own stockade. By his great height he marked Wayne among them and close beside Wayne the shimmer of Joan’s dress. Well, he read her riddle now. But her need was not yet satisfied. Richelieu had won! In the trading-room of Cumberland House the panting Hudson’s Bay men let down their burdens under the candlelight, the lifeless Chippewa, Cotameg, shot fairly through the head, two wounded white men of the post with bullets through their thighs, three men of the York boats’ crews oe e 5° 43 with splintered bones in their arms or legs. Hardly a man was there but showed the marks of the battle, cracked heads, smashed knuckles, flesh wounds and bruises without end, and as they felt each other over to make sure there was no more serious hurt, Father Andrews appeared in the doorway. Roused from sleep by the commotion, his cassock only half-belted on by its cord, he came, and at his entrance Eugene Drum- mond, wiping the blood from his swarthy face, dropped his handkerchief with an amazed exclamation. “Ba gar,’ he whispered hoarsely, “‘hees face—hees face for sure!”’ Andrews in his hurry had forgotten his mosquito veil, and for the first time in twenty-one years Drummond saw his fea- tures. Yet he saw them only for an instant and then only in the semi-obscurity of the doorway. Eugene’s exclamation struck the priest like a warning word. His hand went up and drew close the cowl of his cassock before he stepped from the threshold into the fuller light of the candles. Though the veil was not there, the shadow of the cowl lay dark across his features. Drummond could read them no longer. “In the name of Heaven, what’s been going on, Paul?” demanded Andrews. ‘What have you done?” “Done?” echoed Carlisle grimly. “Brought you a corpse and some patients, Father. You'll have to bury Cotameg and look after the others well while I’m away.” “Away?” echoed the priest in his turn. ‘What do you mean?” He took a step after Carlisle as the latter, unanswering, passed out through the trad- ing-room doorway. ‘Are you leaving Cumberland House, then, Paul?” he asked. “Yes,” Carlisle told him, “I’m going down river for the rest of my York boats.” “Oh! The ones from the Pas came on, ehe That was the cause of the fighting?” “Yes, they came, three of them, Andrews, and—I sold them for a kiss!” CHAPTER IX MUTINY EWIS, his craggy face puckered in be- wilderment, stared long .at the canoe gliding in to his post of the Pas. It was the Factor’s craft, all right. He could recog- COnnicloookxs (C@