Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 176: what you’re looking at

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

158 going to Jet him walk away with all the furs in the Missabi without putting up a scrap for them.” Zotique looked dubious. He glanced at the tall, sinewy young man who was busying himself with the packing, and he told him- self that there was excitement in store for Joe Moon. Although, truly, Joe Moon was a terrible man. “Some fellow tol’ me Joe Moon nearly kill one fur buyer las’ winter,” he said. “Fur buyer was try to trade wit’ de Injuns too, an’ Joe Moon shoot him. He mos’ die. You bettair take a gun.” “Oh, I’m taking a gun all right, but there’]l be no shooting. If I meet Joe Moon T’ll tell him what I think of him and give him a good licking. If I don’t meet him I'l] try to get all the furs I can anyway.” “He ver’ bad man.” “Say, Zotique,” said Munroe, pausing to look at the old man. ‘Are you trying to scare me?” ‘““No—I not try scare you. But you be ver’ careful wit’ Joe Moon. I know. I hear ’bout him often.” “Oh, I’ll be careful, all right. Joe Moon will run when he sees me coming,”’ Munroe laughed. Brave words, these. Zotique watched Munroe as he carefully bundled up a sleep- ing bag. The old French Canadian felt a slight quaver of apprehension. These young fellows are so confident. And Joe Moon was a “tough guy.” II mf] THE kitchen window was a black ge mirror reflecting the yellow Jamp- light as Hugh Munroe moved about next morning in final preparation for his journey north of Wakina. It was not quite dawn; the wind was moaning about the trading post; the shop out in front was in darkness save for a straggling peninsula of lamplight beyond the doorway; the stove was crackling in a dull way, but the little kitchen was very cold. Munroe’s bunk, with the blankets turned back, looked very inviting, and, as he moved about his tasks, he tried to shake off a great depression. There is a chill which comes with the hours approaching dawn of a winter morning, a chill more bitter, more penetrating than any other, a chill which not only permeates the body Adventure but the soul, disillusioning, disenheartening, discouraging. The small hours before winter daylight cast a blight upon the hopes and ambitions | of any man who stirs to activity at that time; for then, all endeavors seem futile, all desires empty, all achievements worthless. Was it worth while, after all, he wondered, to try to fight Joe Moon? Would it not be better to give in, when the odds were so hopeless, instead of making this quixotic attempt, which would only intensify the bitterness of defeat? Zotique Larose was snoring amid his blankets at the other end of the rcom. There was no long journey out into the darkness for him; and if he wished, Hugh Munroe could go back to his bunk and sleep as well. But there is an instinct in youth against the line of least resistance, an in- stinct toward the harder course and, al- though now all Munroe’s vainglorious de- sires to hasten down the river trail and give battle to Joe Mcon, appeared strangely useless and futile in this cold, dark morning, he opened the door and lugged out his pack- sack and sleeping bag, piling them on the toboggan, with a dogged determination to go through. with his plan, no matter how empty it now appeared. He returned to the kitchen to find the kettle boiling, and he had breakfast, frying bacon and dipping bread in the hot grease, drinking strong tea, while the blackness of the window behind him mingled almost imperceptibly with a sullen gray and the lamplight grew weaker and the shadows melted. Faint light gradually diffused the gloom of the shop, out in front, where the long windows shyly emerged to view and tock on shape. It was dawn when Munroe finished his meal. He went out into the shop and over to the little safe behind the counter, twid- dling mechanically at the combination until he finally pulled the docr open. He took out a bundle of bills he had counted out the evening before, a thousand dollars in all, and stuffed them securely in his money belt, then locked the safe again and re- turned to the kitchen. The money would be more than ample for the length of his trip, but it was best to be on the safe side; he might have better luck than he expected. He put on his mackinaw and fur cap and pulled cn his heavy mit- tens. Then, with a final glance at the GOMIGIOO (©