Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

130 investigating that had ended almost dis- astrously. True, he hadn’t been made a shotgun target; but a hatchet had just missed removing his fingers as he was about to pull himself through a chicken-house window one night. “‘Canning’s stumped now,’ I ended. “Bad!” said the Old Man. “And Meyers?” Meyers’ plan, I told him, had been at least original, if unlucky in its working out. Meyers had discovered the Falpart country to abound with partridge. Coveys were to be seen everywhere in the snowy fields. Meyers had tried to borrow a shotgun and shells. No luck! Then he had tried to buy. Still no luck! Next he tried one of his company Enfields on the birds. It took patient stalking and clever marksmanship, but the birds made neat targets and Meyers was a good shot, and he had got along not too badly when misfortune smote him two ways. Occupants of a staff car traveling on the Falpart road had complained of the whistle of bullets about their ears. It had to be stopped, they said. Next thing Meyers learned from the French civil authorities that there had been a closed season on partridge for five years and that in settlement for his gunning he would be expected to contribute some five hundred francs to the town treasury. “And now Meyers is stumped,” I wound up. The Old Man petulantly exclaimed— ‘The same story from Blane, I suppose!’’ “Well, not the same story,” I confided, “but the same result.” “Don’t want to hear it,” fumed the Old Man. “Nor Caldwell’s, either.” “That would be rather difficult,’’ I said, and inwardly cussed myself for speaking out of turn. “What would be difficult?” the Old Man caught me up. “Hearing Caldwell’s story,” I said. “He’s told me nothing to date. Too busy per- hap S. +B) ‘Busy nothing,” said the Old Man. “TI know about how busy he is. Loafing around his billet, likely, most of the time. I’m afraid we'll have to make a change in Don company. Caldwell seems to have lost his initiative.” “Perhaps,” I said regretfully, “but a change at this time wouldn’t help the Christmas situation any, would it, sir?” Adventure The Old Man admitted the soundness of my contention and told me to get the quartet together at tea that afternoon. ‘“T may have something to suggest,” he declared. At tea he threw down his serviette and got going. “Gentlemen,” he said, “it’s three days to Christmas, and so far you’ve accom- plished nothing. Permit me to offer a sug- gestion. Why not go after Madame Deu- quet’s ducks?” “‘What ducks?” queried Sleepy Caldwell, surprized-like. “Good lord!” exclaimed the Old Man. ‘*You’ve never seen those ducks in the pond outside here?” Sleepy’s silence was answer enough. ‘“‘Why not go after them?” reiterated the Old Man. ‘“‘Madame won't sell,’’ Canning spoke up. “‘T know, for I tried her.” “So did I,’’ said Meyers. “And I, too,” added Blane. The Old Man waved his hands impatient- ly. “But I fancy she will sell, gentlemen, if you approach her the right way. If the truth be known she’s hard hit for money— with the war and what not. And like all her race she’s proud. She swears she won’t part with those ducks for love or money, but I know——"" “Yes, sir,’’ we chorused. “that a thousand francs will buy them.” “Lotta money,” said Sleepy Caldwell abruptly, “for some scrawny birds, tough as nails, likely.” The Old Man looked daggers but went on: ‘“‘One thousand francs, I repeat, if she ever makes up her mind to sell. That’s where you gentlemen come in. You must make up her mind for her. It can be done, I fancy. Who'll take a whirl at it?” “Here, sir,” replied Canning. “And here, sir,”’ said Meyers. “Right here, sir,” added Blane. Sleepy Caldwell, I could see, was hesi- tating over his decision. The Old Man beat him to it. : “T’ve already counted you out, Cald- well,” he said in a tone that brought the red jumping to Sleepy's face. “Yes, sir,” said Sleepy, and slumped down in his seat. Next morning, inspection over and done, I caught Blane stealing up the steps of the chateau. His arms were full of wrapping GOMIGIOO CO