Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

Ambush “Besides, I went out to drop a few trees on their camp and burn it at the first snow when there was no danger of firing the forest, but the clothes were gone. I put the theft down to the sneaky wolverines, set fire to the teepee and thought no more about it.” “But, Galt, Cotameg didn’t take and put them in his gear-bag. You under- stand Indians, and you know no Indian born would go near the smallpox camp at Carcajou Cove, much less lay a hand on anything there.’’ “T know,” nodded Galt, pushing bag and all back into the fire. ‘It was no Indian who put them in Cotameg’s bag. It was a white man, a white man with the iron nerve of the devil.’’ “Then who was that white man?” pro- pounded Carlisle. e | TO the chief-trader he put the ques- v tion, to Eugene Drummond and all the Hudson’s Bay forces behind, to Joan hovering as near as the flames would let her, to Wayne and his five faith- fuls grouped by themselves off to one side. They stared at him unanswering, stricken dumb by the horrible enormity of the thing, and as he looked into their eyes, recollec- tions of many past incidents flashed un- bidden through Carlisle’s mind. He remembered that it was Cotameg who had let the Northwest mail-courier Bertand escape into Grande Portage, remembered Cotameg’s frequent absences from Cumber- land House, his delay in coming in to the post from his fishing upon the morning he wanted to send him to the Pas, and the fact that Richelieu knew he had sent for his York boats and was on the watch for their coming. “T see it now!” he burst out suddenly. “Cotameg was in Richelieu’s pay from the first. The Chippewa must have been at the Northwest post that Sunday morning I sent him and Smoking Pine down-river, and that’s when his gear-bag was filled un- known to him. It was a plan to turn the plague loose in Cumberland House, but in the ways of the North the bag came back untouched to the one who filled it.” ‘My God, Paul,” cried Joan shuddering, “how could any man do that?” “He ain’t wan man,” put in Drummond promptly. ‘‘He be wan flamin’ dzabdle, an’ if I be had ma way, I’m would t’row heem back into de fire w’ere he be come from.”’ 3, “That’s the way to talk, Drummond,” supported Wayne. “It’s only what he deserves.”’ ‘““Maybe there’s worse than fire in store for him,’”’ reminded Andrews, prophetically. ““He’s fully conscious now, Paul. His eyes are open.” Richelieu awoke in a daze, raising him- self up on his elbow and staring at the blaz- ing walls which had burned low enough to allow the Hudson’s Bay men to dart in and scoop snow upon the flames with their long snow-shoes used as shovels. ‘Name of a name!”’ he blurted, unable to comprehend the crimson glare, the shoveling figures of the men and the hiss of the snow masses smothering the fire. ‘I dreamed I was on the brink of hell. Comment? Has my dream come true?”’ “Partly,” explained Carlisle, grimly strid- ing over tohim. ‘Your men set fire to your post and scattered to the thirty-two points of the North when they heard you had smallpox!”’ ‘Smallpox!’ echoed Richelieu unbeliev- ingly. “Yes, the Red Death! Cotameg’s dun- nage-bag came back to you among the food- sacks.” Richelieu’s lips parted stiffly, but Carlisle poised his moccasined foot as if to spurn him into the dying conflagration. “Don’t say a word, Richelieu!’’ he warned passionately. “Not a cursed word or in you gol” Richelieu closed his lips again, and Car- lisle dropped his foot. “T guess we'll get a toboggan and run him across to Cumberland House,” he told Andrews. “Eugene, run and fetch it. I'll set aside one of my buildings for him alone.” ‘Condemnation, no you won’t, Carlisle!’’ expostulated Wayne. “I’ve no love for you as I said, but I’m a white man. None of your Hudson’s Bay traders have been ex- posed to infection. We six Free-Traders have. Besides, I’ve had it. Andrews has had it. So we’ll take Andrews and Richelieu to Fort Wayne with us. Richelieu can be put in the fur house. We'll use the trading- room, and Andrews may have my own quarters.” “By Jove, you are a white man, Wayne!” accepted Carlisle, his face lighting up. “T wouldn’t have asked it of you, but I take your offer in the spirit in which it’s given.” COMICOOOKS (C@