Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

100 “T smell whisky!” cried the girl at the window, but without turning her head. “Tt’s here; lots of it,” said Murray. And he rose and restored the slab. ‘Some smug- gler has used this place for hiding rum. It’s handy to the reservation. The smuggler takes pains not to cook or eat in here. He wants the place to look as it does, deserted for a long time.” ‘“‘That’s very wrong,” she bitterly con- demned. “I saw Sioux under the influence of whisky yesterday.” Murray sighed. His liking for the Pol- lacker boys kept him loyal, and he would mention no names. He was confident, how- ever, that this empty shell, like the sod house on Lake Hanska, was one of several whisky caches used by his friends and neighbors in their nefarious trade with the Sioux. “We must have something to eat. I'll try for some prairie chickens,” he offered. “Don’t fire the gun!” she cried. “Even if you killed them without noise we couldn’t cook them without making a smoke. Even if they were cooked and the table was set I couldn’t eat.”’ They crouched on the broken floor, the girl watching at the window while Murray peered from the door. There was nothing to see except the ocean of tall grass, dotted far off with islets of trees. The wind in gusts agitated the surface in patches and suggested the swirl of some marine monster about to break water. Birds circled and dipped. The staccato taé-tat-iat of a woodpecker exploring the roof gave them a second of rare fright, so unexpectedly did the driller break the silence. A red-tailed hawk swept ¢dlewn to the door in pursuit of a victim. Overhead, as oblivious of the carnage and suffering below as if dwelling in the fourth dimension, winged wild pigeons, intercepting the sunlight and shadowing the grass. In the north, near the river, smoke was besmirching the heavens. Northwest and east of the deserted house pencils cf black and brown told of solitary houses burning. In the direction of the lower agency there was considerable smoke. Murray declared he could see smoke in the direction of the Yellow Medicine. The girl remarked, as if telling something to herself— “They are killing everywhere.” “The soldiers will come. They will give grass, Adventure them their come-uppance,” Murray en- couraged her. ‘When will they come? -Come from where?”’ He could not tell her. The white man’s war had stripped the State of fighting men. The call for more troops was taking even the mixed bloods from the reservation. The few companies remaining in the State, awaiting transportation down the Missis- sippi, were poorly armed and unless border bred no match for the Sioux. After a long interval of silence the girl reminded him: “Even if soldiers could come today they couldn’t save the people killed yesterday.” Then she asked, ‘‘Why did the Indians do it?” Murray tried to explain as a possible cause the failure of the summer money to arrive and the Indians’ belief that the time was ripe to get back their ancient holdings. He discovered she was not listening. THE day was interminably slow in wearing itself out. The dull waiting 72>] got on Murray’s nerves. He was eager to risk a dash for New Ulm, but would not shoulder the responsibility of urging it. Had he been alone he would not have re- mained in the old house. He believed he was keeping a sharp watch for hostiles; but his mind was running after the Pollacker boys and their illicit traffic or was penetrating south to his father and mother and little sister and the Crays. At least he could be thankful that the Blue Earth County people were remote from the danger. “Why don’t you try to sleep?”’ he abrupt- ly asked the girl. ~ “Come here. Something is moving in the ’’ she startled him by warning. “I saw something round moving over the top of the grass.” Clutching his rifle and gripping a car- tridge between his teeth, Murray gained her side. ‘Probably a hawk, hunting,” he mut- tered. “TI see nothing.” “Now! See it!” And she pointed a finger while her free hand closed around the handle of the revolver. Murray located it, a round object moving along the surface of the grassy sea. “It’s a man, riding south,” he whispered, allowing the cartridge to fall into his hand. i) 2) CoMmicbook Wh) (© 5}