Adventure Magazine Cover, June 18, 1921 — page 180: what you’re looking at

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

170 over. as railroaders say; and as it neared I heard the hiss of air, the shrill scream of its brakes. Then it slid to a stop just beyond me, its drivers locked; and three men dropped from its cab and ran toward me, shouting. Somebody hurt, I thought, and waited their coming. They crowded up to my little car, and one thrust a pistol into my face. “What’s the idea?” I inquired. But for all answer, I was hustled out and held at the pistol’s point. The men were well masked with handkerchiefs; only their eyes showed, and their figures were unfamiliar to me. And then, strolling idly toward me from the engine, I saw a shape I knew; a gray- green, neutral figure, booted and gloved, whose face was dead white beneath the moon. It was Lily-White Hand. He smiled at me evilly. Unlike his accomplices, Hand wore no mask; but I made no doubt that he was the moving spirit of whatever deviltry was toward. I looked him between the eyes, meditating resistance. But my work was done; they could rob me onlyof my rest. And every one did that. If some sick baby, back in the hills, had wailed fretfully for my com- ing, this tale might have ended differently; as it was, I submitted meekly enough. That did not please Lily-White Hand. In his low, colorless voice, he cursed me vilely. “T didn’t hope for this,” said he. “All I wanted was an auto for our getaway— and I caught you! Tonight Tl pay you out—cringe, you swine!”’ A man held me securely on either side; a third held his pistol at the ready; and Lily-White clinched his gloved hand to strike. I looked at him steadily. “T wouldn’t do that,” I advised quite _ softly. : He stared a moment; almost in admira- tion, as I thought; and dropped his arm. — “Wait!? he promised. “I'll attend to you later.” And he gave his thin ugly laugh. Then he turned to his masked confeder- ates. “Tie him up, boys,” he ordered. ‘Good and tight, now! You stay with him, Jerry, and watch the car; you two come with me.” I saw that it was a “wild engine” Adventure CHAPTER XIII THE VENGEANCE OF THE BLACK QUAG ILY-WHITE HAND strode off toward the waiting engine, and two of his aides followed him. Bound hand and foot, I lay comfortably enough on sloping ground at the very border of the flat, my feet almost touching the Quag itself; for here at the railway crossing the road skirted close to the swamp. No longer able to act in this scene, I was yet very advantageously placed for seeing. Straight south across the Quag the rails ran almost level with my eyes; following them beneath the moon, I traced them down the full length of the Black Quag and on to the distant yellow lights of Camp Two. Far to the right, the roofs of Black Valley town were silver in the moonlight, and below them I could make out dimly the bulk of MacKenzie’s private car and, a quarter-mile farther south, the pay-car still fast to its engine. The three men climbed into the wild engine’s cab. Hand jerked open its throt- tle so that the exhaust snorted, then roared, and the drive-wheels span madly. Then they were off. A new-painted sign right by my head warned engineers not to exceed five miles an hour while on the Quag; but Lily-White, who had had it placed there, ignored that warning. He drove furiously forty, fifty miles an hour, perhaps, so that in a moment his engine was @ tiny thing, far off upon the Black Quag. Since I could not choose, I let it go, and turned to my guard for enlightenment. Jerry, however, was amiably uncommuni- cative. He ignored my questions; but he loosened the cords at wrists and ankles for-my greater comfort, and offered me @ chew of tobacco. When I declined with thanks, he found a cigar in my pocket, stuck it between my teeth and lighted it. He was not at all a bad sort of robber, that man Jerry. He assured me that he would fix my bonds so that I might work loose within an hour after they had gone. “With the pay-roll,” he added. And presently we were discussing, ami- cably enough, the ailments of Jerry’s six-year-old son—name and residence un- known. He had adenoids, it appeared; would I think he sh’d have ’em right out, oO COMmiclooks (©