Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

32 rose above a hoo-hooing which resembled a rising gale at sea an indubitable American voice, yelling: “Attaboy! Get ’em, you black ——s!”’ Guns crashed amid red flames in the door- way against agitated black figures silhou- etted by the moon-greened western sky. Forms plunged forward into the room be- neath Tony’s rifle butt. Sweat blinded his eyes. He struck empty air; heard Sawyer’s re- volver crash behind him and Plessons swear. Then his left arm sagged; he found him- self leaning gasping against the doorpost and was conscious that the night was filled with a strange, hoarse screaming. Intermittent flashes of guns came from small groups, about which black gnomes leaped in a fantastic dance, flourishing flat things that flashed dully in the moonlight. Of a sudden the world began to rock; a tall, bearded white was weaving up and down on the billows of the ground toward him, and Plessons at a great distance was saying— “Cripes, them pore dumb blokes has been and gawn and turned on em!”’ EPILOG =[" ’S all right, gov’nor,” Plessons was saying. ‘One on ’em got yer from the back winder—under yer left shoulder blade and frough yer ribs. Lorst a lot of blood, yer did, and me too. Got me in the thigh, blast ’em. But I pushed his ugly dial in with a bullet. These two gents—” as Tony’s eyes bewilderedly regarded a tall, blond-bearded man and a short, red-bearded one— “Mr. Boulters and Mr. Vansittart, they kinder shoved in ter help along.” “But the—these dumb blacks turned on the boches, didn’t they?” inquired Tony re- calling his last memory. 7 “Sure they did,” said the tall man,’’ and mighty glad to get their own back, believe me!”’ “Say, aren’t you American?” asked Tony. “Sure I’m American,” laughed the other man, Vansittart. ‘‘And this red —— here’s English, Dr. Peter Boulters.”’ “But how did you get here? The spiders, I mean, and 4s “‘We were here already—very much so in fact,” returned Boulters. ‘But that’s a long yarn and ——”’ Adventure “Say, where,” exclaimed Tony, anxiously peering around the room, which was empty save for the three men and Sawyer lying on blankets near him,” where are the Kom- mandant and the Doktor?” “Oh, they’re all right,’ assured Vansit- tart. ‘Roped and hog-tied in the next hut, ready to turn over to the authorities when they arrive to take charge of everything. None of the others left. There was no hold- ing ‘em once those dumb black —— got going good. They massacred every darn one, and I can’t blame ’em! And they would those others as well if we hadn’t have stood over them.” “Feelin’ better?”’ inquired the English doctor. ‘I patched you up, you know.”’ “Thanks; feeling fine!’ replied Tony. “Except mighty thirsty.” 3 “Good. Then you barge along and tell your end of the yarn, and we’ll get things straightened out.” The three men sat down in a half-circle about him, and Tony, after a drink of cold tea, began as briefly as possible his account of their adventures. “Say,” interrupted Vansittart when he had mentioned the finding of the old man and the dumb Swahili, “what was his name?” a “Never knew,” returned Tony and re- lated how the old man had died. “Poor old Plexy!’” exclaimed. Boulters. “They got him, you see, Van.” ““He was my partner for seven years,” explained Vansittart. “Tried to get a message out but— Ill tell you later.” Tony had omitted to relate the story of the fight with Sawyer and his subsequent suspicions of Bodiker, but when he came to the incident. of the dumb Swahili and the hypodermic syringe they returned forcibly. He stopped; and, turning to Sawyer lying near him, demanded sharply: “What d’you know about that syringe, Sawyer? Was it poison or not?” As the man raised his eyes Tony noticed that they were -faintly veiled. The En- glish doctor leaned forward and whispered: “He’s dying. They got him through the left lung and the spine. He knows it, poor ——.” “Oh, then——”’ muttered Tony; but Plessons cut in with a curt— “Better get it off yer chest, Sawyer.” Sawyer’s weary eyes, once so truculent, sought Tony’s, and he sighed and winced. CoOMmichool A) © =