Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

Ambush walls. The place was aflame in all quarters at once, choked with smoke and shaken to its foundations by the concerted rush to escape. Dentaire, slim, swift as a dancing-master, was in the van of those who surged to the doorway. Half-minded at first to put a ball through him, Carlisle lowered his weapons and made way. The room was now a roar- ing furnace, and there was no holding men in it to be burned to death. “Back from the door and windows,” he ordered. ‘‘Galt, shut the gate and you, Joan, keep close to me. Back, men, I say, and for the lives of you don’t touch any of them!” “Oui, touch us at your peril,’ warned Dentaire. “Stop us at your doom. But put the hand on us and receive the Red Death!’ In a stream they gushed forth, leaping down the steps, vaulting over -the window- sills, Northwesters and Free-Traders to- gether in wild flight. In strange anomaly, armed men backing away from men only partly armed, the Hudson’s Bay force gave them the right of way. Weapons could hold domination over them penned within walls but not as a mad horde here in the open where a hand grip might prove more deadly than a bullet. “Shoot!”? Dentaire shrieked crazily. “Shoot if you have the thought to keep us. You may kill one, two, six, a dozen, but I swear by the Virgin that the rest will lay the plague on you with their fingers! Come on, mes camarades, come on!’’ “The demented fool!’’ denounced Carlisle helplessly. ‘“The whole mob of demented fools! Hold your fire, men. The idiot means what he says.” The rush passed them, some making for the gate, some for the shed next the store where the snow-shoes and toboggans were kept. Galt had managed to wedge the gate bar so that it could not be withdrawn, but the crazed mob was not to be denied. Mar.y climbed up on the palisades to the top of the gate. Many more groveled in the snow at the bottom, worming their shoulders under the heavy barrier. With a united heave they tore the gate bodily from its hinges and hurled it aside. Meanwhile their comrades had cast down the toboggans, thrown on the grub-bags from the store, seized their snow-shoes and rushed to join them. Together the two 93 sections surged through the gateway, North- westers and Free-Traders still mingled, all Richelieu’s Frenchmen and post Indians, all Wayne’s men of the Missouri, men of the Mississippi, men of the Red, his Crees and Chippewayans—the whole crowd that had been drinking with the Northwesters that day. Their panic seemed to increase as they ran. They strained forward, bound for immunity wherever they might find it, falling over each other upon the aurora- lighted snows till they disappeared into the black mystery of the surrounding forest. apa@ EXCEPT the Hudson’s Bay forces, f@r@e none remained in the yard but ~ Richelieu whom Andrews and Wayne had carried out and laid down within the light and heat of the fire, Wayne him- self, Mason, Murdock and the three sober Free-Traders. Having contracted the dis- ease one Summer while doctoring Indian camps on Eabamet Lake, Andrews, like Wayne, had no fear of contamination him- self, yet he was careful to keep his patient apart from the others. Although Richelieu stirred from time to time, he had never opened his lips or his eyes. Upon his forehead, close up to the hair, the priest could discern a large bruise where he had evidently struck his head against the gate in falling. “The head blow is the cause of his un- consciousness rather than the neck wound,’’ Andrews pointed out to Carlisle and the others who came peering from a respectful distance. ‘‘Where shall we take him, Paul? Is there any chance of saving the other buildings?” ; “Not the slightest chance,” Carlisle de- cided. ‘‘We’ll do well if we keep the fire in- side the palisades. We don’t want it to get into that fringe of trees and ’round through the forest to the other posts. Richelieu must stay where he is for a little. He'll not be cold in this heat.” “You won’t risk trying to get anything out, Paul—the supplies or the furs?”’ asked Joan anxiously. , Carlisle shook his head grimly. “No, the risk’s too great! They’ve been handling the food and pelts, you see. We daren’t touch anything, but I think we'll level the store and fur house to hold the flames as low as possible.” COnnicloool< (C@