Adventure Magazine Cover — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

24 would draw the German’s attention, he would come charging in among those wag- ons with that black horse and the Yank’s name would be ordure. “T’ll take him prisoner,” thought the Yank. “TI can use that horse.” “Hey!” he cried aloud, “get off that horse!”’ He stepped into view from behind the wagon. The German officer stopped look- ing about the landscape. His horse gave one bound and then came tearing down upon the Yank, while the officer reached for his sword. “Here goes,” thought the Yank. isn’t loaded, good-by!”’ BANG! It was loaded all right. The horse went to his knees, tried to get up again and fell back on his side, while the officer leaped clear. When he had shoved his busby from over his eyes, he discovered the cavernous muzzle of the Yank’s rifle, and behind the muzzle the cool eyes and skinned teeth of the Yank himself. “Put ’em up,”’ said the Yank. The officer complied. “Do you understand English?” asked the Yank. “Perfectly,” replied the officer. “Then you realize that you are my pris- oner?”’ “Tt would seem so.” “And you realize that if you let out one velp, or so much as bat an eye with any kind of noise, that there’ll be a big hunk of cupro-nickel go sailing into your skull?” “T realize,” smiled the officer, albeit his eyes held a look that went amiss with the smile. “Then proceed,” said the Yank, motion- ing with his rifle. “You can put down your hands.” va WHEN the officer was in front of @fae him, the Yank felt of the German’s mee pockets, up his sleeve, and inspected the little box that he wore by a sort of ban- doleer over one shoulder. No weapons, The officer’s sword was still under his horse. As the Yank prodded the German ahead of him, the officer looked back to where his poor steed lay prostrate. The horse was dead; his eye was glazing and fixed, and blood trickled from mouth and nostril. The German muttered some- thing in his own language, in a tone of an- “Tf it Adventure guished sorrow, then he removed his mono- cle, and taking a handkerchief from the breast of his tunic, wiped his eyes with it. Then he looked at the Yank. That young man felt his spine spring to life and began to crawl like a startled snake. He crouched and thrust forward his rifle. “One move,” he cried, “and you’re on your way ——ward!” ‘Why didn’t you kill me anyway?” asked the officer. ‘‘Why for should you shoot an inoffensive beast?”’ 3 “T aimed at you,” said the Yank, “‘but these rifles of yours aren’t over accurate. I know I killed the better of the two as well as you do.” His own heart was torn with pity to see that magnificent animal laid low, and for a moment the hearts of captor and prisoner felt that thiill of kindred feeling that all horse-lovers know, no matter how far apart their race or creed may be. Only for a mo- ment, though. The German, seeing the Yank still gazing sorrowfully at the dead horse, and holding his rifle loosely in his hands, took one step forward. The spell was broken, the Yank snapped his rifle to his shoulder, and the German came to an abrupt stop. “T can’t miss at this distance,”’ remarked the Yank. ‘‘Now turn around and proceed.” They went to where the Yank had left his sword and having recovered it, and tucked the hilt in the crook of his arm, he directed the German to turn around again and cross the lane. The ground seemed open there, beyond the next line of wagons, and in the opposite direction there was nothing but a cloud of smoke and the crackling of the flames from the burning train. Across the lane they went, and through the line of wagons. There was an open space there, but it was not very wide. There was a hay pile on the far side of it and this pile was the base of a pyramid of smoke that went up into the air beyond reach of the eye. In reality it met the smoke canopy from the burning train. On the left hand a mass of wreckage burned, and on the right hand a heavy cloud of smoke hid what was beyond. ‘‘Back we go,” said the Yank, “and go down the lane. That’s fairly clear.” The two turned about. A finger of flame was writing on the top of the unbroken row of wagons. - GO DOOLK 1@)