Adventure Magazine Cover — page 112: what you’re looking at

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

102 the rugs which should have been sheltering him and he sighed: “T hope I haven’t made myself look too small!” His vigil must have lasted close on an hour, his legs were cramped and an angular biscuit tin had temporarily dented his abdo- men out of shape, when ‘his straining eyes caught sight of a ripple in the long grass just beyond the circle of light. The faint movement became more pronounced. Slow- ly, softly Mitcham crept out of the dark- ness on hands and knees. He paused by Lund’s outstretched form and listened in- tently for more than a minute to the rise and fall of the snores. Having satisfied him- self that the boy was really asleep he con- tinued on his slow journey, and now his right hand held a knife, broad, long and razor-sharp with a point like a needle, a knife Rushton had often admired, with cer- tain mental reservations. Mitcham’s face, ruddy in the light of the embers, was not a pleasant sight. His eyes glowed in their shadowy sockets, the big loose mouth was a smear, beneath the wrinkled flesh on his neck a lump moved up and down spasmodically. He reached the blankets and again paused as he glanced back toward Lund. Then slowly he raised the knife, his breath hissed through his teeth, and the knife came down—and buried itself to the hilt in granu- lated sugar. The lack of resistance on the part of his victim came as an unpleasant surprize, a Shock almost. It threw him off his balance. He fell forward on to his face and before he could give utterance to one amazed oath something struck him in the small of the back, something hard and heavy. It knocked the breath out of his body and for a second or so stunned him beyond the power of movement. The hard and heavy object was Rushton, dropped from the skies to confound his would-be assassin. Before Mitcham could stir Rush- ton was firmly seated upon his shoulders and holding against his neck the needle-like point of the knife. “One move,” remarked Rushton, who fully appreciated the value of the time- haloed phrase, ‘‘one move, one infinitesimal wiggle and you are a very dead man. Am I explicit?”’ Mitcham’s first ejaculation was inaudible, subsequently it developed that he suffered acute pains, not of conscience, but in the Adventure lumbar region. His lamentations aroused Lund, who, having thrown some twigs on the fire, contemplated the scene with in- creasing excitement. “Didn’t I tell you?” he shrilled. ‘“Can’t say I didn’t warn you! Can’t say it’s my fault. I knew all the time——” “The situation is now well in hand,” Rushton explained soberly, “but I am hanged if I know what to do with mine enemy. You know,” he went on, attracting Mitcham’s attention by a sharp prick be- neath the right ear, ‘‘you have put us in an awkward predicament. I am indecently attired for such an event, I feel the need of adequate clothing, and yet I am afraid to move. You are big, brother Mitcham—one sweep of your mighty paw would be enough to account for me. Lund might withstand a couple more sweeps but that’s about his limit. Four sweeps between us. A con- servative estimate. So let us bind your wrists. Lund, fetch a lead-rope and a strong one.” : With his hands pinioned behind his back Mitcham was propped in a sitting position against one of the wagon wheels. “Listen here—’”’ he began. “Not now,” objected Rushton. “Wait until I am dressed. You don’t want me to catch my death of cold, do you? And I think our beeves can do without a nurse for an hour or so. Lund, you might as well hang around here for a while as a witness, and you might also brew us some of your famous tea.” “Just as you say,” agreed Lund, “but don’t forget, I warned you. I said, ‘If I was you I’d look out.’ ”’ ‘‘And I took your advice. I was on top of the wagon. Mitcham foully murdered half a hundredweight of the best sugar.” “hie” ‘“‘Never mind. The question is: Can we let him go loose or do we have to carry him about as surplus stores for the next few months?P”’ ‘“‘Please,”’ broke in Mitcham, “lemme ex- plain. Honest, Mr. Rushton, I wasn’t in- tending ’arm. I wasn’t, reely. “Twas a mistake.” He whined and writhed and debased himself. ‘‘ "T'was a terrible mis- take. And now I’m branded as a criminal— me, what’s never ’ad anything said against ’"im—never in my life. Lemme say I’m sorry and try to explain. You'll see—you know I wouldn’t do no ’arm, least of all GO DOOLK 1O)