Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

south, West and North “Never mind; I know,” said Hampton. “Come along, now. We’ve work to do.” There was no difficulty in getting some of the drafts cashed, as many a man had more ready cash than he needed and was glad to convert some of it into less dangerous paper; moreover, Adam Johnson was a man well known to others from Boston or near-by parts. So, in half an hour’s time, the two approached the terrible waterfront, with two staggering peon carriers behind them, and others on the way. The scene along the beach, where each morning a dozen or two bodies were washed out to the sharks, beggared description; the Beverly men were no worse off than other parties. With food, drink, medicines, Dick Hampton and others who were sound fell to work among the sick, injected some atoms of order and decency into the miser- able shelters of blankets and old garments, and finally moved the entire company to a spot farther down the beach where the sand was at least a trifle cleaner. The gratitude of the destitute men to Hampton was pitiful, for scarce one of them but had obtained a portion of his money back. This work of mercy took time, however— most of the afternoon, in fact, and there was no sign of Job Warlock on the scene, so that Hampton had the chief burden on his own shoulders. One or two men from other companies pitched in and gave a hand, but the majority only marveled. The shouts of joy from the Beverly men, their devout prayers of thanksgiving, had attracted attention, and the news of their retrieved fortunes had been swift to spread abroad through the multitude. Hampton was far from suspecting any danger from this fact; he had no time to think of anything until the camp was in shape. Then, in a drip of perspiration and feeling nearly exhausted, he joined Adam Johnson over a pipe and a bottle of wine. It was nearly four o’clock, and he had little enough time to get clean clothes, return to the inn and bathe, and keep his appoint- ment with the unknown sefiora. Still, it was necessary to confide in Johnson to a certain extent, and he did so, but found that Johnson could give him no further infor- mation. “Say the word,” said Johnson, ‘and we'll all join you in following that rascal Day!” ' “No, thanks,’”’ returned Hampton blunt- 41 ly. He could not explain that these retired farmers and New England merchants were not the type of men to go on such a quest. ‘“‘What you can do is to have three or four men with you at the Inn of the Golden Pomegranates at nine sharp tonight. I want you to be able to take word home that I’m innocent of murdering Jed Barnes’ “We'll do it, and gladly,” affirmed John- son. ‘“‘We’ll send off letters tomorrow, to make certain, and will carry the word our- selves. We’re all going back home, I think, as fast as we’re able to travel.” Hampton looked across the sand, at- tracted by a sudden motion. A peon had been talking with a group of the Beverly men, and now rose and departed. Moved by a sudden impulse, Hampton hailed the men. “What was that fellow after, boys? Look out for thieves, now!”’ “You bet,” came the response. “He’d heard about your finding our money, and was just asking who you were.” Hampton sprang to his feet, but the peon had disappeared. “Anything wrong?” demanded Adams Johnson. ‘‘No,” said Hampton slowly. “No. T’ll have to be moving, though. See you to- night, sure!” “Nine sharp.” Hampton returned to the plaza thought- fully. It seemed hardly likely that Dias should have left men to look out for him and Job Warlock—that they should ever reach Panama must have appeared im- probable; yet ever since their rescue they had been anticipating some such possibility. Dias had too much at stake to take chances. If that peon had been a spy of Dias, then the fat might be in the fire—or it might not. Returning to the inn with a bundle of clean clothes, he went to the room d’Aquila had put at his disposal. Job Warlock had not returned. Hampton trimmed his half- grown beard, washed and dressed, and slightly before five o’clock started down the street toward the House of Yellow Tiles. All in all, he felt highly satisfied with his afternoon’s work. The house in question, one of the man half-ruined structures which filled the old city, was pointed out to him, and as he ap- proached, he sighted the figure of Warlock coming toward him. MICLOOOLK © inn