Adventure Magazine Cover — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

The Long Knives spare the time to find our way through it. Durgin cursed whole-heartedly as _ he bumped into rocks or suddenly dropped to his waist in water. His chief concern was for the bow-gun and to keep the bow- string dry. Despite all efforts to proceed noiselessly we would have betrayed our position sev- eral times if not for the rain and gusty wind. When it was permitted us to em- bark we paddled north for the rest of the night, Durgin aiding me when there seemed little danger from rocks. Because of the gloomy, storm-torn sky we prolonged our efforts nearly to the hour of sunrise. I estimated the distance covered to be twenty miles when we finally turned in to the east shore and hid under some thick wil- lows. We had made half the distance to McKee’s place. Durgin was eager to aban- don the canoe and foot it. ““‘We’ve got my bow-gun and ten bolts,” he persisted when I refused to entertain the suggestion. “‘Nary a Injun has shown his hide. We're hungry and need food. We can reach the trading-house before the In- juns suspect we’re down this way.” “It makes no difference whether we’re caught here or within a stone’s throw of McKee’s,’” I told him. ‘‘We’ve seen no In- dians, yet they’re swarming up and down the river on both banks. We’ve left no down-stream trail, but neither is there an up-stream trail. The Night Walker left signs for a short distance only. The storm helped us, but it didn’t keep the scouts in the village. Big Bear is out to redeem him- self. Spotted Snake is frantic to recapture us. Blue Jacket will not rest until he has us. The two Girtys are making every effort to run us down. We must keep snug and try to push through tonight.” Durgin gloomily contemplated the thick, silent woods crowding down to the brink of the opposite bank. As the minutes passed and there was no sign of the enemy he be- came disgruntled and fumed—_ “There ain’t a Injun within a mile of here.”’ As he was speaking some small birds flew from the ground-growth across the shrunken stream. I called his attention to their short flight; then the bushes parted and two war- riors stood on the bank. One had a blanket around his middle; the other was naked ex- cept for his leggings and breech-clout. Dur- gin sucked in his breath as he glared at the 127 two copper-colored figures. My own heart gave a jump as I recognized the man with the blanket to be the Night Walker. For a minute the two men stood there gazing up and down the river. Then the Chickasaw made a gesture, and I surmised he was suggesting that they descend the bank to get a longer view of the stream. The other, pock-marked of face, dropped to the water’s edge and waded out to his knees. The Night Walker threw aside his blanket and followed him. If not for the blanket left on the shore I would have believed they purposed cross- ing. Yet they advanced, wading slowly, occasionally pausing to gaze up and down the river. They continued in this fashion until they were immersed to their arm-pits. The Shawnee, holding his gun and powder- horn above his head, now had enough of such reconnoitering and turned to go back. He lost his foot and vanished as suddenly as if some submarine monster had seized and dragged him down. ‘The Chickasaw man plunged his arms under water as if to help him regain his feet. But curiously enough the arms were not withdrawn, nor did the submerged man reappear. Instead the water boiled furiously, and a pair of kicking feet grotesquely danced above the surface. The Chickasaw, bending over un- til his face at times was in the water, seemed to be having a desperate time of it. Durgin was breathing in gasps as he watched their strange behavior. He fairly snorted aloud in amazement as the Night Walker straightened and glared suspiciously at the hidden banks. Then our red friend began making his way inshore, towing something behind him as he went. “By the boats of Essex County! If he ain’t drowned that !’? choked Durgin. ‘Went to work and drowned him like a rat after knocking his feet from under him!”’ We watched the Chickasaw get his victim up under the bank and pile some driftwood on him. When he had finished and was draping his blanket about him I gently agitated the low-hanging willow boughs screening our hiding-place. Almost in- stantly the keen eyes caught the sign. I thrust out my paddle.. Without any hesi- tation the Chickasaw plunged into the river and began crossing. “Drowned him like a pered Durgin. Our friend swerved down-stream and rat!’ whis- COMICLOO S CO