Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

60 Near the very center in the lowest part on Dupree Lake stands the Indian Mound. The mound is the work of aboriginal ‘Americans. No arrow-heads, pottery or fragments of human bones are found there. It is not a burial mound. The supposition is that it was built as a refuge from over- flows. A perfect chocolate-drop in shape, it rises to a height of fifty feet and is nearly three hundred feet in diameter at the base. The slope, thickly studded with hackberry trees, hasasharp slant. The top is the high- est land within a radius of forty-two miles. Against the hackberry trees, in particu- lar, Bain led his wood-cutting expedition. Hackberry wood is hard, dense and heavy. It splits beautifully, has few limbs to clear off and burns more readily when green than other woods. Twenty-two men besides the manager arrived at the foot of Indian Mound at eight-thirty 6n the morning of November sixteenth. The mules were taken from the wagons and tied to saplings. Axes, saws, mauls and wedges were distributed; in ten minutes the woods were ringing with cheer- ful activities. Most of the men had been with Bain for years. He passed among them silent, for the most part, but watchful, encouraging and helpful; a good boss with a good crew. Three or four transient day hands were among the workers. One, a ginger-bread- colored negro of gigantic size, particularly attracted Bain’s attention. Where and un- der what circumstances had he seen that man’s villainous face before? ~ He hunted up Willie Thompson, who jus- tified his position as straw boss by doing two men’s work; he was determined to ease his curiosity regarding the stranger. How- ever, Willie began talking about the stage of the Mississippi—an absorbing subject just now—and Bain forgot all else. “Cap, 1s she gwine to make us trouble?” ‘“‘Wouldn’t be surprized. Fall overflows —when they do come—are tricky. I talked long distance to Helena yesterday; the gage is forty-five feet there, and the crest not due to pass Memphis till tonight.” “Ts dey done fixed dat Bee Bayou cre- vasse yet, Mistuh Bain?” The manager did not answer at once. “No,” he said slowly, ‘‘they haven’t. They’ve piled fresh dirt in the break, but they didn’t allow for settling. It would melt like sugar. The jack-legs!”’ Adventure And after a pause: “Wille, I wouldn’t talk about high water to the boys too much. We’re in low coun- try, you know.” “Nawsuh! Iwon’t. Will you please suh send Uncle Mote Green heah to file my saw?” | At noon Bain took his lunch—a cold banquet forced upon him by Aunt Jane, his devoted but imperious old cook—and sat down on a log by Dupree Lake to eat. Weak November sunshine had lured several mud-turtles out, and with extended necks two of these creatures from their perch on a slanting snag inspected the big planter. Bain polished off the drum-stick of the fried chicken he was eating and de- hiberately hurled the bone at the turtles, both of which tumbled immediately into the murky water. The manager held up in transit a piece of chocolate cake, and stared at the’ commotion made by the plunge. Instead of widening uniformly in concentric rings, the splashes had spread to the right in distorted ripples. Either he was drunk, delirious, or crazy or Dupree’ Lake was running! Even as he watched there came an omi- nous quiver in the dark waters, and a deep cattle track near the margin suddenly filled; leaves and bits of dry grass floated and spun about in the depression. Bain sprang to his feet, the fearful truth hammering at his brain. Before he could turn, Dupree Lake rose bodily three feet, and a swirl of choco- late-colored Mississippi River water dis- placed the quiet brown of its placid surface. What thirty seconds before had been a quiet cypress break, was now a violent maelstrom of seething, tawny flood water! “Wille! Get the teams on the Mound, and see if all the men are here!”’ | Bain rushed to the base of Indian Mound, shouting orders as he ran. ‘The hands were huddied together, scared stiff. Even Willie was paralyzed. ‘“Here!l’’ yelled the manager. mules untied—quick!”’ | He whipped out his pocket knife and flew at the halter ropes. Willie and the drivers followed. ‘The animals were now wild with panic, and plunged away on the homeward road as soon as liberated, ignoring the sanc- tuary of the mound. “Cut ’em loose so’s they can swim. Get the gear off—don’t try to hold ’em!”’ All but one team were freed, when a “Get those COMIGDIOOKSEEO