Adventure Magazine Cover — page 188: what you’re looking at

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

186 “Well, it isn’t our fault, Jim. The loot can’t blame us. It’s these hills.” “T don’t want to stay here all night,” Hartley protested nervously. “And what about that body? We’ve got to get it to Mittlach somehow.” “We might carry it into Mittlach on the stretcher,”’ Oleson suggested. ‘“‘I figure it’s only about eight kilometers more.”’ “Eight kilometers! I can’t carry it that far. Have a heart, Joe, I only weigh a hun- dred and twenty pounds.” Oleson lighted a cigaret and stretched himself on the seat. “All right then, you think up something.” ‘“‘You’re so big and strong,” Hartley be- gan delicately. ‘‘Couldn’t you put him on your back, Joe? We could rest every few minutes. He isn’t heavy.” ‘No, I couldn’t,’’ Oleson answered sharp- ly. “I’ve never carried a stiff on my back yet, and I’m not going to begin now.” They smoked in silence for a few minutes. The fog crept up and surrounded them. Oleson was the first to speak. “We'll freeze out here,” he complained. “All right then, I’ll be the goat as usual. Get the car out of this bank and I’ll try to hold it back by the tail-board. Maybe we can get in that way.” “Tt’s easier than pushing, Joe,” Hartley said softly. Oleson threw his cigaret away and dis- appeared behind the ambulance again. A moment later sounds arose from the in- side. “Hey, what you doing?” Hartley de- manded, the hair on his head rising. A muffled voice answered him. “Tying the poor frog on the stretcher with my belt. He bounces round so that if his feet come through this tail-board he’ll kick me in the mouth.” “Hurry up then. This fog isn’t healthy.” There was no answer; the silence became intense. “‘Halte lal”? came a pleasant voice from the dimness. A lean face with very bright eyes swam out of the mist beside Hartley and looked at him. The man wore the uniform of a French officer. The American could see the facings on his collar and his heart turned cold. As the rest of the body appeared he could see that this officer held his hand negligently at his waist. “Ah,” continued the man in perfect En- Larry Barretto glish now. ‘I had supposed in the darkness that you were French like myself. It is no matter; you are anally. Iam here to warm you that you can not reach Mittlach by this road. A German patrol has been thrown across it. You must turn a few yards ahead to the right. That way is safe and almost as quick. I will ride with you for a while.” A panic of doubt seized Hartley. This was perhaps the Phantom Major who led unsuspecting men into the German lines. He thought of the stretcher-bearer who had vanis"ed into the night, the provision wagon that had disappeared, and he shivered. On the other hand he might well be a French officer and if so there were enemy patrols ahead. He was about to call to Oleson; then an instinct closed his mouth. Joe must have heard, and yet he had not spoken. The silence from the inside of the ambulance was as complete as if only the dead filled it. If this was a trap, then better that only one be captured. In the darkness Joe might escape. “You are carrying wounded?” the officer asked, more urgently now. ‘“‘We must not delay getting them to the hospital and so we will start.” Hartley wet his stiff lips. “T have a dead body in there, sir,’’ he answered faintly. “I was taking it to the hospital at Mittlach, but I can’t go any far- ther. If I started, the car would run away and be smashed on these hills. My brakes are worn out.” The officer leaned forward and tested the brakes with his hand. “Tt is true,” he said thoughtfully, and straightened up. It was almost like a trick of legerdemain. One second his hand was empty, and the next it held a revolver pressed against the pit of Hartley’s stomach. “In the Imperial Army,’’ murmured the voice, ominously quiet, ‘“‘you would be shot for breaking your car so near the lines. But you are an American and without discipline. Don’t move from that seat. You are my prisoner.”’ He raised a whistle to his lips and blew a shrill note. They could hardly have been more than a score of yards away, so quickly was the road filled with them—Germans, a dozen or more, dressed in their shabby uni- forms of dusty green, their heavy boots and heavier helmets. They held their rifles COMICooOo S C©@