Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

The King of No Man’s Land 99 pleasure in participating in such an attack. Warriors of the White Ones, their usually impassive faces aglow with battle-lust, grinned wolfishly at them, then passed on in search for survivors. The three marched on to the central hut. There, as they ex- pected, they found a round-up of women, guarded by hard-eyed Sumataras. They found also, however, something totally unexpected—three live Jivero men. One of the Sumataras—recognized by Tim as the sergento with whom he had supped at the Pastasa lagoon—called their attention, by an unintelligible sentence and a gesture, to the male prisoners. He seemed quite proud of the fact that they had been caught alive and unhurt except for bloody bumps on their heads. The Northerners looked blankly at him. When other Jiveros were slain at sight, why should these be spared? And, above all, why should a White One be proud of it? All three of the captives were bound with bush-cord, and two of them were darting glances about them as if momentarily ex- pecting death. The third—a tall, powerful savage with waist-long hair, a profusion of tooth necklaces, and snaky lines tattooed on chest and arms—glowered at his captors and ground his black filed teeth with rage. At the white men, too, he glared ferocious hate. Tor a minute or two he stood with malevolent gaze centered on them, defiant in the face of an unknown fate. Then his beady eyes focused beyond them. Into the imsolent orbs crept a flicker of fear. José had come up. His gaze was fixed on the big Jivero, and so baleful was it that the savage flinched. He said nothing. He only stood there, holding the head-hunter’s eyes, piercing to ‘the core of his bestial soul, until beads of cold sweat stood out on the brown face and the thick lips twitched nervously. “Who caught this one?” the Spaniard demanded, without removing his gaze “Yo,” proudly announced the sargento, slapping himself on the chest. “You are a good , warrior. member.” Whereat the sargento swelled. To the listening Americans the mystery now was clear. The prisoners lived because José had previously ordered that captives be taken. The big Jivero suddenly moved his head, twisting it aside to break the contact with IT shall re- the Spaniard’s torturing eyes. His fellow- prisoners, after one look, had kept their gaze away from the conqueror. Now José glanced again at them, looked at the women and children, scanned the huts, and gave short commands. All the women were herded away toward the nearest house. The two cowed Jivero men were seized and dragged toward another. The tall savage, prodded by a red-stained spear-point and directed by a harsh growl from the sargento, turned and slunk into the central house. Not once had. José looked at the Ameri- cans. Nor did he look at them now. Ignoring them as utterly as they had ignored him after landing, he stepped toward the house into which the Jivero and his guards had gone. But just then, from warriors farther out, came a shout which halted him. “———{”? he muttered. “Is it so?” From a house some distance away, a warrior came running among the stumps, leaping upward now and then to avoid iallen Jiveros. In one hand he held some small object which he repeatedly raised aloft. As he approached he called some- thing. José ‘stared blankly at the Northerners, all animosity knocked from his mind. To them he spoke: “So end the ambitions of republics in this land of devils, and so fare the messages of kings. It seems that Peru will wait long for the message it sought from me.” The runner pattered up, stopped, and. extended his hand. From it, dangling by black hair uncut for many weeks, hung a freshly cured little human head. So expert- ly preserved were its features, so life-like was the thin smile into which some diabolical Jivero had formed the mouth, that it seemed again to be leering at the comely wine- pouring girl in the council-hall of the White Ones. The Peruvian Force of Security of the East would indeed wait a long time— through all eternity—for the reappearance of Lieutenant Manuel Montez. CHAPTER XVIII THE TEMPTATION OF TIM - A BOLD, brave fellow,’ mused José, somberly regarding the little face which now seemed to mock at:-all human desire. “TI will gamble that he took more COMmMiCLOoOokkS.GO© S|