Adventure Magazine Cover — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

Geniomen of the North our proposed flight was impelled by idle fears, so far as we knew. Beyond the general character of Le Borgne we had no reason for deducing he would bring down the wrath of the American Government upon him by stealing a white woman. “Tell that to these Indians and they will laugh at you,” she jeered. ‘You can’t make them believe but what they are the most superior and the most brave people on earth. There may come a time when your Government can control them. Now they have no more respect for or fear of your Government than that of China, which they never heard of. Why, they even be- lieve they outnumber the whites. Tell them of big white villages beyond the Mississippi, and they will tell you that you he. Dve traveled enough with my father and have heard enough trade-talk to at least know that much.” IT had to admit the truth of her state- ments and shifted to the contention that the chief’s imperative need of guns would come first in his heart. He might laugh at the United States Government as a shadowy thing, but he would never laugh at the Sioux and a powerful trading com- pany. Believing we all three represented the N. W. company, he would be anxious for us to carry back pleasant reports and thereby hasten the establishment of a per- manent post. “And yet you plan to escape at the earliest opportunity—tomorrow morning if we can manage it,’’ she monotonously re- minded. “We can wait and see the chief and have him send an escort with us,’ I boldly declared. With a little shudder she protested: “No! No! We must start tomorrow. Instinct tells me we must do so. I only wish we could start now. I tell you I am afraid, and I’m not bothered with any silly imagination. I feel as if something were about to happen.” “For heaven’s sake don’t let our friend here know that, or he’ll sit down and sing his death song, waiting for some one to club him to death. You’re big medicine to him. So long as he can believe that, he can do much.”’ “Medicine Hair big medicine,’’ mur- mured Flat Mouth, catching at the familiar words, although puzzled by the rest of our talk. 115 She raised her head and stared at us both haughtily. The effect at once regis- tered on the Pillager. Smoothing out her wonderful hair, she softly sounded the ululating call that carried the whispering of the wind and the prattling of shallow rivers. The chief stood very straight, his head tipped back, his nostrils distended. There was a warrior’s ambition in his small eyes. If he had been disturbed by her downcast mien he was now restored to all his old-time strutting complacency. He was the chief of the Pillager Chippewas. The Minnetarees were low dogs who lived cooped up in a village and ate stinking meat. The hand that struck against his robe where hung his scalps was itching for more bloody work. ‘Then the door of the hut swung open, and Choke-cherry stood before us, blinking at the girl. MeN gear made from a _ turkey-cock’s *™ tail, and he seemed much puffed up with his own importance. For a few moments he forgot his errand and stared at Miss Dearness and her lustrous hair. With an effort he recalled his business and, in a loud voice, began reciting. As he talked he pounded his chest and glanced from me to the girl and then to the im- passive Pillager. When he had finished, the Pillager explained that the messenger sent to inform Le Borgne of the Cheyennes’ presence at the village had found the great chief a short distance up the Knife. But, being a great chief, it did not please his fancy to quit the hunt, even for making the peace treaty. Accordingly he had sent the messenger back with directions for his brother, the renowned and redoubtable Choke-cherry, to treat with the Cheyennes and to adopt the Cheyenne youth. These delegated powers had _ swollen Choke-cherry’s conceit almost to the ex- ploding point. Out of*five brothers to Le Borgne he had been picked. He had sent word to the Cheyenne camp that he was coming to act for his illustrious brother and, to give more tone to the cere- HE WAS wearing a gorgeous head- mony, he desired his new friends to be present. Miss Dearness’ face remained _ cold and proud, but her soul was on her lips when she whispered to me: “Thank God he isn’t coming. You two go, and I will wait here.” Gomicbooks (E(0)