Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 191: what you’re looking at

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

‘‘and of Gideon!”’ until he caught the sense of the words they were singing to it. flashed coldly, his muscles tensed. “T said they were children!” Isaacs said quietly and Miles relaxed; he grinned sheepishly. “Tt is time we go,” Isaacs shouted, and at the sound of his booming voice the horse- play ceased, the song ended in a discordant quaver, the point of a joke remained untold. Without further word they divided them- selves as Isaacs had divided them at the river—two hundred on one side, a hundred on the other. “The umfundisi leads you,” Isaacs said to the hundred. ‘Obey him in all things, my children. Is it understood?” “Truly!” they shouted. “He is your mouthpiece. We hear and we obey.” “You understand vot you’re to do, mis- sioner?” Miles nodded. “All right. Take ’em along. Make yourselves as invisible as possible—an’ don’t let ’em sing anything. Good luck!” The two men clasped hands and then the missionary, firmly gripping his rifle, led his band down the hill. As soon as they had disappeared around a bend in the trail, Isaacs had his men line up and addressed them in short, pithy sentences, telling them exactly the part they were to play. The softly intoned “‘Au-a!l’’, the clicks of admiration which punctuated his discourse satisfied him that they fully understood his plan and approved of it. His face glowed with pleasure, his eyes sparkled behind the strong-lensed glasses he wore. Isaacs had chosen his men well. Many of them were old, experienced hunt- ers, the rest were of the hunting breed, lack- ing only the experience which comes with age to make them the equal of the others. To each of the younger ones he gave a can—kerosene can, small wash-basin, large, empty fruit tin—any kind of can which was large enough to make a noise when beaten upon with a stick. And then, ready now to put his plan into execution, Isaacs led his men down the hillside. Coming out on to the broad valley below the men divided into parties of ten, an old hunter in charge of each, and vanished noiselessly into the bush. Isaacs with another ten continued along the trail in single file until, presently, they And then his blue eyes" 173 too left the trail and became lost in the dense bush. But this maneuver was not to seek shelter, or to mask their advance from possible scouts of the Portuguese: Isaacs and his two hundred men were comb- ing the bush, looking for the recruits to their army. They advanced very slowly, noiselessly, and spread out so that they covered a wide front, yet near enough so that they kept in touch with each other. > J ONCE a peculiar cry sounded far g y; \ to the right of them. Isaacs answered it and it was repeated CL far to their left. Again the cry sounded and Isaacs’ men changed their course slightly, bearing toward the direction from which the cry first came. On they went, stopped now by a bad piece of thorn scrub, now by a tall patch of flesh-tearing spear grass. Once they halted and conversed in excited whispers about a stout tree, the bark of which had been worn smooth at a height of fifteen feet from the ground. Again an_ uprooted mimosa tree—its sap was still running— aroused their interest and after they had gravely inspected it and the immense, smoking animal droppings which littered the ground thereabouts, Isaacs gave the signal cry, heard it repeated tothe left and the right of him, then cautiously followed the track which was clearly marked in the bush—as clearly as if a huge steam roller nad gone before them. - Just before sundown they heard noises ahead of them—the snapping of trees and loud rumblings—the bellowings of an ele- phant. | Their progress became even slower and infinitely more cautious. Not a step was made. before the bush ahead was carefully scanned, and before a forward step re- ceived the weight of the body, the ground was tested. They dared not risk, at this time, the cracking of a twig underfoot. Yet, even so, Isaacs—and few natives excelled his trekking ability—nearly walked into a big bull. Standing motionless under a spreading-branched baobab tree, the big fellow had looked like one of the gray bush shadows. He seemed to be unaware of the presence of humans and as they waited, breathlessly, hoping that the wind would not suddenly change its direction, he filled his trunk with dirt and sprayed it over his back. COMIGDIOOKSEEO