Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

48 of their meeting with Donia Hermana and its aftermath. The eyes of the Indian glittered savagely. “Tf I had known this!’”’ he murmured, and fingered the silver haft of the knife. “None of that,’ commanded Hampton curtly. ‘We have all we can do to get out of here alive,’ and he went on to describe his experiences with the spy. “If that peon goes to Gorgona and does not return until tomorrow night, at earliest,’ he concluded, ‘‘we’ll get away safely. Now, Job, what about the guns?” “Got ’em,” said Warlock laconically, and pointed to a heap of impedimenta on the bed. “Two good guns — one’s just the kind I like. A mess o’ cartridges, extra bullets, two extra horns of powder, plenty o’ caps. But we’d better have a pow-wow with the Injun first of all—he ain’t informed about our plans yet.” He fell into consultation with E] Hambre, while Hampton examined the weapons, and listened to what was said. When he was fully informed as to the situation, the lean and cadaverous Indian squatted on the floor and began to smoke calmly; then, after deliberation, delivered his opinion: “Se“ores, if you were not here, if another and better errand did not lie ahead of us, then I should remain here and try to get my knife into Dona Hermana. I am sorry that you saved her from those bandits; they did not know who she was, evidently.” The stark thirst of the man for vengeance, the deadly hatred of Dias which filled his entire being, impressed itself anew upon Hampton. Despite the Indian’s intelli- gence and courtly Spanish veneer, his blood ran far back; close to the surface, there was in his veins a barbaric and terrible strain of ferocity, the more frightful because of the man’s grimly cool poise. As when he had calmly driven his knife into that Chinaman, he seemed to lack all emotion save the driving impulse for blood. Perhaps, in- deed, all other emotion had been washed out of him by tears. “Your plans are good, sefores,’”’ he went on, and now with an assertion of somber pride. “I shall go as your servant, be- cause in the eyes of those Mexicans I am an Indio. Still, I do not desire to go as your guest, senores. I have many friends in the mountains, and if I need gold they bring it to me. I know that passage on this ship costs gold, so here is my share.” Adventure With this, he produced a pouch of raw- hide, which he tossed out on the floor. Warlock picked it up, slit the binding thongs and with an oath of astonishment exposed to view a mass of yellow dust and small nuggets. Hampton attempted to expostulate, but was reduced to silence by the grave manner of El Hambre; he was brought to the realization that they had gained for their quest an ally, not a mere obeyer of orders, and he accepted the situation. ‘This is as it should be,” he said quietly, motioning Warlock to put away the gold. “You saw these men give me a rifle, El Hambre,”? and he touched the silver- mounted weapon. ‘“‘Now, I am not a hunter, but a sailor; to me, one gun is as good as another. With you it is different. Therefore I’ll turn over to you this rifle and its accoutrements. They’re yours.” That reached the Indian blood. The dark eyes of El Hambre glittered and flamed, and a guttural word broke from him as he took the rifle and examined it. “Ton Ricardo, I kiss your hands,’’ he said simply. At this moment there came a knock at the door, and it opened to disclose the wrinkled, anxious features of old d’Aquila He came in and spoke rapidly. softly. ‘“‘Sefiores! There is a man here who de- sires speech with you—he spoke of you as two Basque sefiores, ricos hombres—and he is one of those accursed Mexicans. He says that his name is Manuelo Garcia 9? “My schooner cap’n!”’ exclaimed Job Warlock. ‘‘And,”’ went on the old mestizo, “the seems to be in great trouble and a tre- mendous rage, for he is between tears and oaths. He is alone.” “Send him in, sefior,’’ said Hampton. ‘Guns under the bed, Job!”’ In a trice the martial array was thrust out of sight, and when the host returned with the visitor, E] Hambre was standing respectfully in one corner. Job Warlock greeted the skipper with great ceremony, and presented him to Hampton; he was a swart, vigorous, scowling Mexican of mid- dle age. When he was seated and smoking, he burst into a flood of speech. One of his seamen had just reached him, at the monte table, bearing bad news. Half a dozen soldiers had gone aboard his schooner, micloool C© inn