Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

south, West and North o’ dagoes talkin’ about him. Dias didn’t know it was him sent that letter from your brother?” No. 9 “‘That’s why he’s alive. Get to sleep. now, and be up early.” Sleep was slow in coming to Hampton, for his thoughts were all with Nelly Barnes and the men from Beverly, and he was confronted by a new perplexity. It was easy to see just how Dias had played his bold stroke; he had gone on to Panama with the officers and those chosen few whom he had not cajoled into parting with their money, and had loaded them aboard his schooner—simply abandoning those who had entrusted their funds to him. It had been done plausibly, of course, and the dozen who had embarked with Nelly were still probably unaware of their leader’s perfidy. Since that schooner was certainly not bound for California, whither was it taking them? “Perhaps up the coast, perhaps to that hidden place Dias has built,” thought Hampton. ‘“But—we can’t be seen in Panama! Some of those Beverly men would be sure to recognize me, despite this beard. Well, wait and see. They might have me jailed as a murderer, and they might not. First thing is to meet El Hambre.”’ With daybreak, the two were up and pre- paring their packs of blankets and food. Upon parting, the Frenchman insisted volubly that each should take a derringer and a revolver from his ample store—in- deed, he opened a trunk to disclose a small arsenal, which now he sadly realized was destined to be of no particular use to him. So, thus armed, Hampton and Warlock bade him farewell, and got out of the town quietly enough. No guide was necessary; before them opened up the narrow, rocky trail that wound over the mountain flanks to the jungle beyond, and they struck off briskly. Once well on their way, which promised to be deserted until noon at least, Hampton voiced a thought that had been troubling him. ‘Job, are you sure you didn’t misunder- stand what you heard last night, about El Hambre?” Warlock showed a flash of teeth through his whiskers. | “You bet, but I didn’t want todo too 31 much talkin’ in the hut. Somethin’ mighty queer about that hombre, by the way those peons were talking. I couldn’t get it all, but gatheréd he was a bandit or somethin’ like that. Anyhow, we’re sure to meet him —one good thing about this trail, a body can’t get lost on it. Like goin’ to the main royal yard; there’s only one way to do it. How are you and me goin’ to show up in Panama City, though? Some o’ them Beverly men are sure to spot us, beard or no beard.” “I was thinking the same thing, Job. We'd better lie low when we get there—go out only at night. Luckily, we had our money with us when Dias set us adrift; so we can buy ourselves Spanish outfits. Might be a good notion to call ourselves Basques, too, since we talk Spanish.”’ Presently the sun was up, and they paused for a bite of breakfast, then on again. The road was no more than a trail over rough rocks, half-cleared and by no means easy to negotiate even without loads; how porters carrying two hundred-weight could manage it, Hampton failed to see. Re- eatedly it led through deep sunless chasms in the side of the mountain, barely four feet wide and with precipitous walls on either hand, where seepage and travel had created patches of apparently bottomless adobe mud; and remembering the emaciated, stag- gering mules they had seen at Gorgona, Hampton quite approved Tom Smith’s tip that they go forward afoot. The sun was high overhead when they left the first portion of the trail behind and entered into the jungle. Here the trail wound with many meanderings through high walls of green, whose interlaced vines and branches overhead completely shut out the sun and formed a hot and steamy ob- scurity below. Here and there, beside the trail, was set up a crude native shrine to commemorate some deed of blood in times past. On and on they pushed, and by midday they had encountered half a dozen bloated or half-stripped carcasses of mules, over which hung clouds of loathsome vul- tures and other carrion birds. It was quite high twelve, and a little after, when they came to a sun-bathed opening, where a trickle of water and a wide mud flat marked the course of a rivulet across the trail. On the near bank was set up a shrine, tattered and despoiled by weather, and Job Warlock proposed that they halt for a rest micloool C© inn