Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

“and of Gideon!” think a store kept by a’ man named Isaacs ought to look.” “But why? I still don’t see why?” ‘““Missioner,” Isaacs replied solemnly. “Vhen I meet a man who pretends to be something vot he ain’t—vhy then, I do the same. An’ so I looked as I looked, an’ my boys were dirty, an I stuck candles in their own grease on the table so we could see to eat—an’, an’ I gave ’em goat to eat which vas very high and tough; an’,” he concluded triumphantly, “I charged them a _ high price for everything.”’ “But what are they if they’re not what they seem to be, Big "Un? The old pro- fessor’s a harmless soul, anyway. He hasn’t a thought in his head beyond his theory regarding the ancient workings. He was bewildered by the actions of the other two; he was contemptuous of them, and, at the same time, afraid. And so for the other two, I don’t like them. D’An- dra’s softly vicious, Gonzales a_ brutal monster. them: They were just what they were. The sooner they’re through with their re- search work the better I'll be pleased. But they can’t do any lasting harm.” Isaacs shook his head. “T’m not so sure, missioner. It ain’t the men themselves I’m afraid of, I only vonder if they’re really looking for Solo- mon’s mines.”’ ‘You saw the professor’s letter from the British Colonial Office “Sure! But it vas Ais letter—not Gon- zales, or D’Andra’s. Vm just a big fool, maybe, but I’m afraid of them men, mis- sioner. I wish I could talk the Portugal talk—then I vould know vot the big man, Gonzales, said to that D’Andra vhen D’An- dra said to me—he was quite drunk—‘T’ll hang you and your niggers when I’ve taken over—’An’ that’s as far as he got, missioner, for then Gonzales caught him by the neck and shouted at him, and D’Andra vas very frightened.” ‘An’ I vould like to know vot it vas the big man said to his porters when they got too noisy last night over their beer. Now T only know that I’ve never seen porters like them before; they ‘fell in’ this morning just as if they vas soldiers. Also, I’d like to know vot vas in those cases they carried on pack mules. Now, all I know is that they vas very heavy. ‘‘Ah, vell, in time, we shall see.”’ There was no pretence about 163 -s HE TOOK a small penny whistle ¥ from his pockets and blew three sharp blasts. “es Twelve natives came running in answer to its piercing summons and stood silently before him. They were very dirty; they were naked save for filthy loin-cloths and their hair was daubed with some pungent-smelling grease. ‘The game is over,” Isaacs said tersely. “Go and get clean.” They hastened away, chattering gaily. ‘“Moses!”’ Isaacs called, and one of them returned. “Yes, master?” “Did you obey my commands?” ‘“Yes, master.”’ “Did you hear anything that I should hear, or see anything my eyes would have been glad to see?” A man with his back to the speakers would have thought two natives were talking. “No, master. I sat with the porters last night until the fires burned out and the beer which at first had opened their mouths closed their eyes. But I heard nothing. They spoke only of women and beer as men will.”’ Isaacs nodded in dismissal. “Get water and clean clothes ready for me when you have bathed,” he said. ‘“Then prepare skoff. The umfundisi eats with me and—” he added with a chuckle as he saw a uniformed horseman riding up the hill along a trail far to the left of that taken by the others, —“the policeman also.” “Yes, master! Shall I cook the rest of the goat?” He smiled. “No!” Isaacs bellowed. ‘Kill four chick- ens and roast them—get cans of soup from the store—get anything. Only, see that you serve a good meal. We are hungry men.’ The native grinned and departed, shout- ing orders to the others as he went. By this time the man on horseback had ridden into full view of the men on the stoop. They rose to greet him and beamed a welcome. “Vell, vhy don’t you dismount?” Isaacs asked. “Too much of a hurry, Big ’Un,” the other answered. He wore the uniform of a trooper in the British South African Mounted police. He was a big fellow, muscular, and sat his horse easily. “But you’ve got to stay. We've got a lot to talk about, ain’t we, missioner?” COMIGDIOOKSEEO