Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

South, West Hampton wakened to find his brother’s lips at his ear, and felt something thrust into his hand. It was a razor, or what remained of one. “Use it if you want, then hide it in the hole. Come down to the creek.” Hampton hesitated. Badly as he wanted to be rid of his beard, which had regrown on the voyage north, to do so would make him a marked man; and now he had a game to play. Besides, it was no light task to secretly hack at a stiff beard, without soap ~or water—and he thrust the razor into the hollowed-out adobe, then pulled the mat- ted blankets over the opening and left the bunk. Slight attention was paid to him as he made his way down to the creek and washed. He saw nothing of his brother at first, but presently El Bobo appeared, carrying tor- tillas and a bowl of chocolate. They were alone for the time being, as whips were cracking and slave-gangs being formed up by the overseers. ‘Safe to talk,” said Eli, depositing his burden and flinging himself down. ‘‘We have to snatch the right time, Dick. I’m a privileged character—they found I could get out stone blocks and could carve them a bit. Besides, you’re in my charge just now, until we go and see Dias. Here’s breakfast, so pitch in. Did you hide the razor?”’ Hampton nodded. ‘Can we get away at night, get a couple of mules, and hit across the desert, Eli? Is that your plan?” The other laughed hopelessly. “Impossible, Dick; you might as well dismiss the notion. They’d let you go in the daytime, but they’d see to it that you went afoot and empty-handed. The only way out is by that patch up the side, or else by the lower end of the cafion to the sea. Both ways are guarded, and those guards are Yaqui Indians from Sonora. How did you get here? I heard about the Beverly company and all that from the poor who got here with Dias—Ezra Howe was with ’em. His wife died on the way up from Panama. Dias shot him two days after they got here.” Hampton briefly recounted, while break- ing his fast, an outline of his story. He had barely finished when Eli leaped to his feet and was instantly transformed into £/ Bobo, and flung a swift word at his brother. “Look out! Here’s Ramon, Dias’ chief lieutenant, coming. Pure Yaquiand a 2 and North 59 Approaching them was the tall, splendid figure of an Indian, garbed in all the gold- laced finery of a Mexican, about his shoul- ders a handsome scarlet serape. He came close to them, his glittering eyes fastened upon Hampton; his features were intelli- gent, darkly proud, stamped with a bitter ferocity. El Bobo capered up and de- manded his cigaret, which Ramon accorded, then the Yaqui began to roll himself another. “Well, gringol’’ he said curtly. your scalp is mine. Come.” El Bobo fluttered in with some question, and Ramon whirled on him with imperative gesture. ‘Be off! The master has ordered me to bring this man. Go to your work, fool.’’ So poor Eli went shambling away, while Hampton rose and followed the tall Yaqui, in silence. He was led up the valley, and knew that he was going to face Dias. He did not fail to observe that at sight of Ramon the other guards became very ostensibly alert, and the slaves at work shrank hastily aside; even the Chinese, who shared but slightly in the hardships of their companions, avoided the tall Yaqui with extreme care. Hampton needed no explanations to realize that this chief lieutenant of Dias was a devil rather than a man. So much was paten in the very face of the redskin. They passed the slave barracks and the scattered houses of the guards, whose half- breed families were in full evidence, and so came to the bend of the creek. There, masked by the fruit orchard and the huge foliage of ancient fig trees, was revealed the hub of this entire place—the new house of Dona Hermana. It was a palace rather than a house, built beside the tumbling waters of the little creek; here the towering walls of the cafon drew in on either side, dwarfing all things. The building itself was of stone, not of adobe—long and low, the roof furnished with a parapet where Hampton caught the gleam of several small brass cannon. Just across the creek was a corral, with some small adobe buildings used by the Chinese servants of Dias. Ramon strode straight to the entrance of the house, a low doorway on either side of which were prominently displayed the same two Chinese characters which Hamp- ton had seen on the silver knife and at the “Today cComicbooks.c© inn