Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

126 blankets between them and the dying fires. La Blanche had no idea what they were waiting for, except it was Death. He assumed it would come in some supernatural guise, and he clamped his jaws tightly to prevent his teeth from clicking. After an hour of waiting he brought his nerves under control by forcing his thoughts to wander back to the hazy past. In a tremulous whisper he told his companion: “On this day ripe strawberries can be eaten in Quebec. I would have liked to be there when the apple blossoms were in flower. Apple blossoms always make me think of Old Pierre’s granddaughter. But that was ages ago and back in Anjou. She’s an old woman now, or dead.” “She is always young.” “Soon the corn will begin to shoot into ears,” continued the old man softly. “TI remember when they first made hay on the St. Lawrence. Two men with guns to guard every worker. The Iroquois crept very close.” “In Montreal the pears and melons are a week ahead of Quebec,’’ murmured Carca- Adventure jou. “But those in Quebec are much better.” “The cherry and plum trees were in flower late last month. And tomorrow they will take strawberries to market.” “All the women, noblesse and common, wearing caps. Strawberries and cherries are good; but for me melons and ripe pears. See here, my son. No more of this or our ears will go to sleep,” said Carcajou. But now that his mind was working up the channel to the past the old man per- sisted in dwelling on his youth even if for- bidden to voice his thoughts. It was Car- cajou who heard a sound, so soft a woods mouse might have made it. He pressed a hand on his companion’s knee, and both came to acute attention. If any one ap- proached their position from down the point he would be vaguely outlined against the glowing coals of the camp-fires. The sound reaching Carcajou’s sensitive ears was so faint that he could not locate the direction. It came again, barely audible, and La Blanche, now wide awake to danger, seized the bush loper’s hand and pointed it to the right. They were facing the camp. TO BE CONTINUED CORnNICLO© (©