Adventure Magazine Cover, June 18, 1921 — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

A Tropic Idyl “fever.” He had been expecting his first bout with the plague of the island. But he had not expected backwater—that was seri- ous—nor that Bully Roper would be his nurse. And what did Roper mean by his repeated allusions to “the Mary?” A host of shadowy memories—dim and unconnected, like dream memories—be- sieged his mind. He knew he had gone into the jungle that morning, or yesterday—or a week ago, according to Roper—and there things had happened to him. Just what things, he did not know, but he had a vague sense they were things that.concerned Mazie and Stort and Stort’s brown woman. He opened his eyes and asked— “How did I get out of the scrub?” Roper was startled by the sudden query. . “My word, I thought you were dead- O,” he exclaimed. ‘“ ’Ow did you get ’ome? Well, you’ll have to ask your lass about that. All I know is I was sitting on your veranda here, waiting for you, and up runs your black-boy, Billycan, very excited and happy, and tells me that his ‘boss fella walk about alonga other boss fella’s gin’ and that his ‘boss fella plenty sick, bimeby die.’ ‘Well, I’d come up here just to give you a bit o’ warning against that snake, Stort, who, I knew, was eager to give you best on the girl’s account, and when I heard what the boy ’ad to say, I was sure Stort ’ad eased a knife into. your back or something like that. But before I could get out 0’ my chair, the Mary ’ove in sight, with you rid- ing pick-a-back and beating her over the ‘ead with a big black book. Balmy as a loon, you were, and fair wild, and singing igh and ’ard about the miner o’ Bendigo. ‘“When I went to lend the lass a ’and, you swore I was your girl in white, s’elp me! and you would ’ave made love to me something scandalous, only you couldn’t stand without falling. Yes, your Mary brought you out, and a cruel job you gave her, from the way she was bashed about. Aye, and you’re lucky to be lying there listening to me, for of all the newchum tricks that’s about the best—diving into that fever-trap in the heat o’ day, and in pajamas, too!” “J have no Mary,” Bruce protested. ‘You mean Marua—Stort’s woman?” “Aye, the lass you took away from Stort,”’ said Roper. Bruce was exasperated and a little ex- cited. With great effort he lifted himself on an elbow and reasserted, with what empha-~ QI sis he could muster, that he had no Mary and that he had not taken Marua away from Stort. Nothing of the kind! Roper placed his big paw upon the other’s shoulder, and gently pressed him backward until his head was again upon the pillow. ‘Yes, yes; of course she isn’t your girl,”’ he conceded soothingly. “My mistake, maybe. But ’ow could I think otherwise, with Marua saying she was your Mary, and Stort admitting you looted her and raising about it all over the blinkin’ island? Fair wild, Stort is. But never you mind, now; you just lie back there and ’ave a bit 0’ snooze.”’ ; “T don’t want to sleep!’ exclaimed Bruce. “T want to talk; I want to know what is wrong! What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were sailing yesterday—I mean, the day I got sick.” The pearler regarded him sharply for an instant, and then sighed and surrendered. “If you won’t snooze you won’t,” he com- mented, ‘‘and I suppose I ’ad better talk to keep you from fretting. When the lass gets back she’ll take you in ’and; a bossy lttle baggage, my word! © “You want to know why I’m sitting ’ere in this chair, with my crew eating their ‘eads off in Moorabal Bay, instead of my being half-way to Thursday Island waters, as Lintended? Well, now, what would you "ave ’ad me do, m’lad? ’Ere was you, a white man, bad sick; ’ere was me, a white man, well and ’earty; and ’ere was the only other white man on the island going about with a bashed-in face, and black murder in his ’eart. and leave you to Stort’s care, when I knew ’e was just itching to give you. best with anything from a rifle-ball to a nigger’s waddy, Stort’s gone balmy, I tell you, on account 0’ losing Marua to you!” “But Marua isn’t my woman!” cried Bruce helplessly. Roper nodded. “Maybe not; but she thinks she is, and Stort thinks so, too. I suppose maybe you were out of your ’ead all the time you were in the scrub that day, and don’t re- member what ’appened?” “Nothing happened; that is, nothing like that,’’ declared Bruce. ‘I remember—oh, it is all hazy and unconnected, like a dream —but I was in the bower-birds’ glade—and Marua came—and Stort—and I think there was trouble—but it wasn’t over my stealing COmicloo oN Uf) Would you ’ave ’ad me sail away ©