Adventure Magazine Cover — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

104 expectantly for the rain of questions which he knew must follow; for a death always excites interest, in any community. In this particular case only Benjamin and the old prospector, Jim Lyall, had been long enough in the country to remember the wild days which had provided an ade- quate setting for Red Jake’s hectic career. ‘“‘How’d it happen?”’ asked the prospec- tor, fanning the smoke away from his face. “‘An old native, named Umpomba, went out with him hunting lion and got him with an assegai, while he was asleep. The Mounted Police have just brought the “boy” in. You remember him, Jim; he was the fellow who gave evidence against Jake at the trial, and, after it was over, swore that. he’d revenge his sister if he had to wait a lifetime. Well, he’s waited thirty years, and now he’s done it.” “There you are,” said Lyall, to the com- pany at large. ‘“There are two cases of hate, which ought to settle your arguments.” ‘“‘What’s the story, Jim?” asked the doc- tor. “I’ve heard of this man, Red Jake, as a dangerous character, and I know that he was tried for murder a good many years ago; but it was so long before my time that. I never heard any details of the case.” “Well, it’s a pretty complicated tale,” said Lyall, “but I’ll do my best to tell it, unless Benjamin here would rather spin the yarn.” “Not me,” said Benjamin. “I’m no good at the talking—besides I’ve got to keep my eye on the bar; but I’ll stay and listen, for old times’ sake. sn L@ | here in the early nineties, as they 2 are now (Lyallcommenced). South- ern Rhodesia was the frontier, as far as South Africa was concerned, and Fort II THINGS weren’t as orderly out Victoria was the first settlement founded - in Mashonaland, by the Pioneer Column of the Chartered Company. Speaking generally, it was a quiet, well-ordered little settlement; but on Saturday nights things were apt to get a bit complicated. -Most days if you wandered into the main street you’d find a dog making things unpleasant for his insect fnends, and, prob- ably a couple of native women taking snuff outside the little store; the company’s maps showed a township of six streets, seven Adventure avenues, a market square, a church and a museum; as a matter of fact there was one street, comprising four or five shanties, and some tin-roofed out-buildings, running from the Drift to the Thatched House. Some men had offices, which they used mostly as lumber rooms; if they wanted to do business they went to the Thatched House, which was our one hotel, where everybody fed and where the whole life of the town centered. . In Victoria we did everything collectively, from celebrating a birthday to burying a member of the community. Under the circumstances you may be sure we were none too pleased when Red Jake arrived, and ran up a shack for him- self just outside the town. He was neither congenial nor desirable; in fact, he was a ‘“‘mean-white” of the worst order. He was a holy terror to the natives and soon began to terrorize the white population as well. He was a great, big brute, six-feet-two high, as thick as an oak tree and as strong as an ox. He would stamp into the Thatched House, order drinks round and stop all business and gambling, while he was there. After two or three drinks he’d get most infernally offensive. We all tackled him in turn, but he just made mince-meat of us; which is saying a lot, for we were a pretty hard-bitten crowd. After this state of things had lasted best ‘part of two months a youngster turned up fresh from home, with an unspoiled com- plexion and the red of sappy British beef still showing in his cheeks. I fancy he’d got into some sort of bother at one of the universities, and had been sent abroad to save trouble. He was a fine, cleanly built lad, though not over big. His name was Mercer. He seemed to realize that he was new to our life, and would learn most from the overseas men by keeping a still tongue in his head and not asserting himself. Red Jake was away when he arrived and did not show up until he’d been settled in best part of a month. One night when I was standing by the bar, talking to Mercer, Red Jake staggered in. “Drinks on me,” he shouts, then he catches sight of Mercer. ‘“‘Who the are you,” he says. ““My name is Mercer,” the boy replied. “Oh, it is, is it?’ says Jake, then turning to the barman he adds, “Bring a bottle for the baby, Joe.” MICLOOOLK (©