Adventure Magazine Cover — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

Treasure “Well,” said Walscher, with no enthu- siasm, “it’s come this far—get it on board. Jewels, you say?” ‘Yes, monsieur,” Madame answered, lying easily. ‘‘All zem! All zat I haf. He guards zem for me.” “Never heard of such a thing!’ said the fatuous-faced fellow who was interested in Kuplico coconuts. Walscher’s Chinese steward was a cheery, withered old fellow who, for some reason not known to white devils, was very much re- spected by such of his countrymen as knew him. While the others about the deck were interested in Madame’s box, he, having seen Po-Shu, went quickly near her. They spoke together rapidly and softly; then with a furtive quickness, Po-Shu looked about her. She was for the moment unnoticed, and taking two short backward steps, reached Denasso. Her voice was low, clear, with a kind of fluttering eagerness: “Oh, my fliend, it awlite. I ask this mos’ honalble nice man. He smokum pipe a lit- tle. Say you my fliend, you poo’ boy, you smokum his pipe quiet time.” Then she took two quick little steps for- ward and again stood pathetically expres- sionless. II HE box was lowered away on deck, dragged well inboard to be out of the way. Men gave it lingering glances as they passed by at work. Young Raeburn, looking and feeling as woebegone as a wet cat, stood by it, hoping to be unnoticed, at least unsuspected; though even deeper was the hope that he would be dragged off and thrown into irons. If Heddon had told him to jump overboard, he would probably have jumped. Now with furtive glances he cast about for the best place to make for when that snake was turned loose; and decided to make for a room in the after deck-house and slam shut the door. Denasso, also being now unnoticed, moved near to Raeburn as if lonely, but they did not talk. Madame was left standing there in the rain, just as if she were not a woman, while Walscher and the fat-faced copra planter, followed by Woo Lung, had taken Po-Shu into the cabin to be given hot tea and wrapped in warm blankets. She was like 107 an odd little piece of flexible porcelain, and the novelty of her amused the half drunken Walscher, who was a lump of bad clay that had somehow got himself fashioned into the fine figure of a tall broad man. Madame, thus ignored, stood straight and held her head up; and kept her head covered too with that oilskin, though it was pushed back so that the rain washed her cheeks, feverish with the anger of being in- sultingly neglected—for a Chink girl. Blake had returned toward the Dragon, and a second boat had been sent away. Captain Scott, noticing Madame, walked by her without a glance or a word, entered one of the deck-house staterooms and came out almost at once with a glass nearly full of whisky. He came up to Madame, and ina sort of grim, awkward way offered it to her. ‘Ah sank you, monsieur,”’ she said quick- ly, and smiled as best she could. ‘But no! No, sank you!” “Well, set down—”’ he looked about —“set down there on your box.” “Sank you, monsieur, but I stand!” She, offended, was stubbornly declining any courtesies; and Scott had not tried to be gallant but in a way to make an apology of sorts for Walscher, whose booming laugh could be heard. “All right then,” said Scott, and drew back his arm as if to fling the liquor over- board, but catching the look on Raeburn’s face, asked, “Oh, you want it, do you?” Raeburn groaned hopefully, and Scott, grinning a little on hardly more than one side of his face, gave him the glass. Raeburn measured off half the liquor at a guess, set his thumb as a mark, and drank. It was good hot liquor, smooth as oil, warm like fire, and went into a stomach empty as an upturned kettle. When the whisky had sunk to a level with his thumb—or a little below—he offered the glass to Denasso. “No, you drink it,’ he said. “Go on,” Raeburn told him. good!”’ Denasso drank a little and gave back the glass. Raeburn in two gulps emptied the glass; and in a very few minutes his tongue was dancing between clenched teeth, for he did have sense enough to keep his mouth shut. The very marrow in his bones felt warm; his heart beat a brave tattoo. He kicked the snake box with a bare toe, saying: “Bah! You’re nothing but a big over- grown fish worm!”’ “This is GOMIIGIOO SS (C@