Adventure Magazine Cover — page 162: what you’re looking at

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

eo BU le Py Sh a ins 148 suddenly break out in the village and heard the racket of voices that betokened the sudden arrival of some cavalcade. Some one ran down toward the river-landing swinging a flare and shouted, but Wong Lee, with an oath, took no notice and the craft shot swiftly down the broad stream. None but the boatmen had seen McNeill and that at the last moment. If the new arrivals were the priests of the Hoang-Lung they had no reason to suspect the entirely regular departure of Wong Lee. There came a bend in the stream and the shouts and lights died out, and McNeill cuddled down on some mats in the cabin, groaning a little from time to time about the decayed teeth that he was forced to protect against the night air. CHAPTER Jil THE FEATURES OF FUNG-TI AY ER nine years of wanderings in in- terior China, prospecting, engineering, adventuring, Neill McNeill, with his knowl- edge of customs and dialects, was compara- tively at home in Peking. He changed his filthy rags for Occidental raiment at a native tailor’s who was to him more of a friend than a mere tradesman and, thus rehabilitated, hurried to the Imperial Hotel. On the trip of the cargo-boat he had found no trouble in picking up the trail of the eccentric American and his daughter. Remsden, with a smattering of Chinese, was no fool and, once free from immediate pur- suit, he had got together an escort and traveled with speed and comfort. McNeill’s connection with him would soon be over, the latter thought regret- fully. He meant to take no bonus, for, however much he admired the stepdaughter, he had a very whittled-down estimation of Remsden and his selfishness that would deliberately expose the girl to frightful risk through his own rash actions. But McNeill meant to see them both safely out of the country. The cult of the Hoang Lung, the guard- ians of the holiest of all shrines, was power- ful and Remsden’s offense, which must have been a serious one, would not be lightly condoned. Remsden was apt to consider himself safe in the foreign quarter and be- come careless. Trouble could easily hap- pen, even on the train to Shanghai whence the foreign quarter. Adventure they would embark for the States, and it would be trouble of a kind that could not be remedied. A fanatic follower of the Hoang Lung would think nothing of giving up his own life and risking torture if he achieved his object. Even the arm of the American government would be hard put to it to pro- tect the travelers, and McNeill shrewdly surmised that the American minister would not be appealed to by Remsden too hur- riedly, as the latter knew that confession of an attempt on his part to interfere with Chinese religious institutions would be met with disfavor. It was with relief that McNeill passed through the arch into the hotel compound and entered the office of the Imperial. Miss Remsden was out, the clerk declared, but Remsden was in his room. A package had just been delivered for Mr. Remsden, and the Chinese boy who ushered McNeill +o the suite carried this parcel with him. McNeill was frowning when he entered the room. Remsden should not have al- lowed his stepdaughter on the streets un- escorted, he thought, though of course he was not certain that this was the case. Remsden greeted him cordially enough. “T’m glad to see you back, Neill, my boy,” he said. ‘‘We were both anxious over your safety but I assured Helen that you would win through. We ourselves had a——” ‘“‘Where is Miss Helen?” broke in McNeill. Remsden frowned at the interruption. He was looking curiously at the package the boy had brought, a box some eight inches square, wrapped in rice-paper on which was inscribed in good English Remsden’s name and address. “She wanted to buy some souvenirs for her friends at home,” he said. “I believe she has gone to the Rising Sun Bazaar.” ““Good , man!” cried McNeill. “You don’t mean to say you let her go out alone?” “The Rising Sun Bazaar is only two blocks away,” replied Remsden. “Tt is in Have you lost your nerve, Neill?”’ “You have taken leave of your senses!”’ said McNeill angrily, taking up his hat. He was going to the Bazaar without delay. “‘How long has she been gone?”’ “Why, I hardly know,” said Remsden leisurely, setting down his cigar and devot- ing both hands to the unwrapping of the GEomicbooks (E(@)