Adventure Magazine Cover — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

The Dragon’s Claw that I did not know where it was, but he would not believe me.” Tao Chan, not knowing the language of the foreign devils, glowered at them sus- piciously. “The white men also keep faith, Tao Chan,” said McNeill. ‘Give it to him, Wilson.” The bearded man solemnly uttered a jargon of meaningless syllables. He was in his rolled-up shirt-sleeves and he exposed his open hands back and front to Tao Chan and the priests. “Can ye not see it?” he asked, speaking fluently the vernacular. ‘It was hidden in the air. Lord of air and land and water and of fire was the dragon king. He did but return the claw to its own and now, in promise kept, we bring it back again. Behold!” He pointed to a spot just above the level of the wondering eyes of the priests. Then, between the thumb and forefinger of the other hand, suddenly appeared, by clever legerdemain, the claw. A cry came simultaneously from the priests and all, save Tao Chan, dropped on hands and knees in obeisance. But Tao Chan, who could do some pretty conjurmg himself upon occasion, frowned and took the relic. From his robe he produced a case of carven jade lined with golden suk, and reverently placed the claw within. As the priests rose to his order they found themselves covered by the pistols of the expedition. ‘You are going to take a little walk with us as far as the bamboo bridge across the Wu-liang chasm,” announced McNeill. ‘To the other side of it, in fact. Then we'll say good-by and leave you with the claw—after we have destroyed the bridge. Doubtless you will find some roundabout way to get back to Hoang Lung. Do you want to ride in the palanquin, Miss Helen, or would you rather have a horse? We brought a spare one for you.”’ ‘‘A horse, please,” said the girl. “I haven’t been treated at all badly, Mr. McNeill, but the sooner I can get away from everything Chinese the better I shall be suited.” McNeill translated to Tao Chan, into whose face came the suggestion of satisfac- tion. He appropriated the abandoned pa- lanquin to his own uses, and from there to 155 the bridge the priests spelled each other i in carrying his redundancy. It did not take the little corps of experts long to destroy utterly the bridge of heavy. bamboos, ingeniously cantilevered by the Chinese across the deep split, and then they left the discomfited Tao Chan to lead his men back to Hoang Lung as best he could. Straight for Peking they headed, well mounted, exuberant, losing no time. Helen Remsden told them the details. = her carrying off. As McNeill had sus- pected—had practically known—there were members of the Hoang Lung affiliated with practically every bazaar in Peking, and, when she had walked into the Rising Sun Bazaar, she had walked into a trap that was. promptly sprung, a trap that was only one of a long line set for her throughout the city. “T wanted a mandarin coat or two,” she said, ‘‘to take home for gifts. I thought the Rising Sun, with almost always an American or European customer at every counter, was safe. Mr. Remsden said nothing to the contrary. But, when f left the hotel, I fancied a Chinaman who was loafing about the compound noticed me particularly and when I was in the Bazaar I was almost certain that this same man came in and spoke to one of the clerks. This clerk spoke to the man serving me. “T fancy I showed some suspicion, or surprize, and it only shows how clever they were, for the man who was waiting on me, one of the principals of the Bazaar, I fancy, who talked beautiful English, asked me al- most instantly if I knew the man. I told him that I did not know him but thought I had seen him before at the hotel. ‘He appeared to get very angry and told me that the man wanted a commission on anything I bought, claiming he had recom- mended me to the Rising Sun. He rated the man, who slunk out. I knew, of course, that such a thing was very likely to happen, and that almost every tourist purchase has a squeeze or two behind the price. It sounded a natural explanation and I thought no more of it. ‘‘T had especially asked for a pomegranate- colored mandarin coat and they had noth- ing of that shade, or near it, in the lot brought me. Doubtless they took care there was not. At all events, the man seemed disturbed that he did not have one to suit me and called out in Chinese. After the answer he smiled and said that a Eomicbooks.co nm