Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

Ambush in the rocking craft. But before either he or Carlisle could shoot again, Wayne’s long- barreled rifle spat from the boom. Faint as a squib it went off at Carlisle’s ear in concert with the Hudson’s Bay men’s volley, but the effect was contrastingly violent. Richelieu, his weapon dropping with a splash, whirled halfway ’round as if spun by an invisible hand. Todd’s canoe was just in the act of turning a broadside on to the boom, and the jerk catapulted the staggering Richelieu out of the swerving canoe bow. He landed limply, half in the water, half on the boom. Carlisle had a momentary glance of Andrews dragging his body out on the logs, of Wayne jamming in another charge, of the white-faced Joan beside him as he leaped from the boom before Todd’s canoe could touch it. All along the line the others leaped with him, and they landed with a wallowing splash close under the Northwesters’ whirl- ing canoes. The Hudson’s Bay men knew the depth of the water, a knowledge that their enemies lacked, and therein lay their advantage and Carlisle’s strategy. The total unexpectedness of the move lent it all the greater force, and the number of Carlisle’s officers distributed throughout the line ensured perfect unison of effort. Galt, Drummond, Lewis, Jarvis, Hamp- ton, Garry, Lea, Missowa and Waseyawin and the lesser clerks were personally respon- sible for the men undertheir command, and they saw to it that all moved in concert. Thus it was an unbroken row of men that barred an unbroken row of canoes, before the occupants of the canoes could jump from craft to boom, and seized their low- sunk gunwales. The clear-headed Todd smelled disaster the moment the Hudson’s Bay men launched through the air. “Hades! Look out!’ he yelled to the other partners. ‘“‘Back-water, all!” But Carlisle was too swift for him. A whirl of the Factor’s hands and Todd’s canoe was upside down, the fur packs on the bottom, Todd and his crew floundering in the water. Todd came up sputtering and cursing. His rifle-butt smashed down on Carlisle’s shoulder, but Carlisle skimmed the surface with a fist blow that caught Todd upon the chin and stretched him limp and floating. Scattering the Indian crew, he lunged on to overturn the nearest craft. TI Nor had his men been idle! Everywhere he looked he saw the Northwest canoes either capsized or in the act of being cap- sized by his men. Up to their waists, sometimes to their armpits in the icy water they offered small targets for Northwest violence while the canoes were easy prey. Often top-heavy with crews and packs of fur, always hair-poised on their keelless, bottoms, the birch-barks went over at the touch of a hand, the poke of a knee or the solid push of a gun-butt. IT WAS a weird sight to behold, whole brigades suddenly turning turtle, heeling on their gunwales, rearing up on. their sterns, spilling and sprawling arms, gear, men and furs in all directions. Some of the Hudson’s Bay men in their savage zeal paused not for the laying on of hands but struck through the birch-bark skins of the canoes with knives and belt axes, scuttling the crafts at a stroke, sending the paddlers under like mannikins in a biscuit-box. Bitter was the amphibious battle through which Carlisle rampaged. Though they had lost their canoes, the Northwesters found their footing and resisted tenaciously. Many of their arms were sunk in the plunge, more they saved were plugged with mud and slime so that there was little shooting. They fought as their forefathers fought, with knife and club and knotted fist, a primi- tive horde battling like cavemen in the wilderness, raging in the churned, moiled river between steep benchlands under the blazing sun. High on those benchlands clustered the womenkind of the tribes in action, all gay- clothed in their calicoes, bright-cowled in their warm-colored shawls, the squaws, the boys, the maidens, the moss-bagged papoos- es, even the husky dogs of the camp snarling and clipping their fangs over the conflict in the water below. In that wild moment the women far for- got their race stoicism and shrilled encour- agement to their hunters, waved their gaudy silk handkerchiefs, beseeching their Good Spirit to help the Hudson’s Bay, calling on their Evil One to blast the bold North- westers. The hunters answered their cries with strident yells, their wet, swarthy arms glistening like bronze in the sunlight as, led COnnicloookxs (C@