Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

66 ‘Madame Borel replied with a question in turn. “You are the one that is called the Wolf?” “You have said it. Nowattend, madame. First water and bandages. Then some food. If you are slow about it, you may know my methods as well as my name.”’ All this time Madame Borel had stood motionless, half-anchored by the clutch of the round-eyed child upon the floor. Now, with a muttered word, she loosened the lit- tle one’s hold and set briskly about the outlaw’s demands, Hot water simmered upon the open fire. This she brought, together with a roll of cotton rags. Already the Wolf had cut away the blood-stiffened cloth of his trouser leg. The wound—a clean hole through the calf—showed angry and red. - Swiftly, deftly, Madame Borel swabbed and bandaged, winding the cloth with a practised hand. When she had done she set food upon the table, doulettes, the beef- balls of the prairie, some greens, the inevi- table coffee. And all without a word, while the child watched curiously from the corner to which she had withdrawn. As he bolted the meal, the Wolf was watchful. Eyes and ears were ever upon the alert. On the table beside him the big revolver lay cocked and ready to his hand. Having finished, he felt easier. The pain of his wound was lessened, his hunger was gone. Yet with relief came no slightest sense of gratitude. That was his way. Hatred, bitterness—he knew no _ other emotions. Once he had held high place in the;Jand. Now, from his low estate, he turned the venom of his soul upon those who had cast him down. Men, women, children, he loathed his humble opponents. They were boors, clods, no better than the beasts with which they herded. His quick crooked brain despised their slow mentality. Thus the Wolf appraised Madame Borel as, his eating over, she silently cleared the table. A fine creature to look at, young, strong, ruggedly handsome. And with the brains of a cow. . Her present . occupation for example. One finer strung, in such a predicament, would have let the dishes lie. Dumb habit, of course—the unquestioning routine of the animal. Well, so much the better for him. He was practised in dealing with fools. But Adventure his case was still desperate, his problem un- solved. At once he fastened upon it with the full strength of his agile mind. ‘No need to question the woman further. She would be the same with her servile “‘m’sieu,” her blundering evasions, her stupid replies. She had tried to deceive him, eh? She, with her brain of a cow. Suppose he had his try at stirring this brain. It could be done. It might even be made profitable as well as amusing. With the thought came inspiration. All at once the Wolf’s desire joined with his necessity as neatly as a knife with its sheath. en a moment later he turned to Ma- dame Borel, his tone was curiously soft and wheedling. “See, madame,” he began. “Let us un- derstand one another. Your husband is gone, you say. He will be back at sunset?” Her duties performed, Madame Borel had gone to the child in the corner. Tricked Mes the outlaw’s tone, she looked up hope- ully. _““My husband?” she answered. “No, m’sieu, he will not be back at sunset.” “So,” said the Wolf, and waited a mo- ment. Then, ‘Peasant wit!” he exploded. Madame Borel stared at him. “Pardon,” she muttered, bewildered. There was little time, for the sun was all ' but down. Yet the Wolf made the most of it. Such things were as meat and drink to his hatred. , “Peasant wit,” he repeated fiercely. “Your wit—the wit of your people. You are not clever, madame. You do not even le well. Before I have asked you things. Now, through what I have seen and heard, I am going to tell you the truth of them. “Your husband is off.in town with the Vigilantes. By dark he will be home again. You would have him surprize me. But this will not be. I shall do the surprizing myself.”’ He paused, relishing the brief delay. ‘That is, if you decide to have it so,” he finished smoothly. Madame Borel con- tinued to stare at him. ““If—if I decide?”’ she repeated helplessly. ‘‘Just so,” said the Wolf, and as he went on he spaced his words with the care, the nicety of one approaching a final spring. “But I will show you the situation. For the moment I am a prisoner here on your island. With a horse I will be free again. Your husband will ride in armed. Should COMmicloo (©