Adventure Magazine Cover — page 164: what you’re looking at

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

oof by Rolf Bennett TIS hard to say just why Port tee Gifford was essentially character- | NY istic of New England. Perhaps be- ez’ causeit was one of those small but . quietly prosperous towns on the Connecticut coast where the inhabitants, in addition to the fishing, derived considerable profit from the coasting-trade carried on by small sailing-vessels and steamers. And here, as in most other little towns, every- body knew everybody else, and the business of one was the business of all. A man might keep a secret in New York or Chicago orany other great city, but he certainly would not keep it long if he lived in Port Gifford. Therefore it was not surprizing that every one in the town knew of the enmity which existed between Bill Hogan, a local pilot, and Captain Larry Craig of the Gleaner. That, and the cause of it, was already ancient history in Port Gifford; and only to the stranger within the gates was 4t necessary to explain that the trouble be- tween them had arisen over a dog. It had been quite an ordinary, commonplace affair, certainly not one calculated to give birth to a venomous hatred that all but termi- nated in a tragic disaster. The whole thing was due to the fact that one day Larry Craig had come upon Bill Hogan ill-treating a dirty, half-starved mongrel. Apart from the fact that he loved dogs the genial Irishman detested eruelty of any sort and maybe his tone was a trifle peremptory when he spoke to Bill. Any- way, Bill had resented it, challenged Larry to fight and in a surprizingly short space of “The Barrier,” copyright, 1921, by Rolf Bennett —t <i a 4 ~ —_—-—_—az_S oa = OMAN A <7 \ —— Se —— ATTN RE ete \\\s = SS Sa 7 mene \\\ — = == ~S = Xd \ eh a SS NY Oe amet 1 rs ee » % ae et bs ongh ers ian \ 4 = SS eaoeny fee = 4 s =~ 2 Sea 1s time had himself received that particular brand of licking he had promised to bestow on the other. There, if it had rested with Larry Craig, the matter would have ended. But Bill had been licked in front of his pals and a deadly hatred entered his soul for the man who had done it. Then and there he took oath he’d be quits with Craig, no matter what it cost or how long it took—and Bill Hogan was the sort of man who would keep an oath like that. Of course, those who knew Bill expected something picturesque and startling to happen almost immediately. But nothing did, though Bill could hardly be blamed for this; it was not his fault that the oppor- tunity for revenge failed to come his way. Still, he was able to vent his spite to some extent in his capacity as pilot. Whenever he chanced to take the Gleaner in or out of harbor, he saw to it that she was delayed as much as possible and that other vessels secured the best berths. But if Cap- tain Craig noticed these things he gave no sign and it looked as if Bill’s vendetta, in spite of himself, would fizzle out like a damp firecracker. Then suddenly, and when most people had forgotten all about it, the little drama of hate reached its long-delayed climax. It happened one evening in late Summer. The day had been oppressively hot and as dusk drew on banks of ugly, leaden-colored clouds began to pile up on the horizon to seaward, advancing steadily until they seemed to cover the whole sky. 154 MICLOOOK C@