Adventure Magazine Cover — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

some sun stronger than England’s had given him. A bit more flesh on his sharp nose, cheekbones, and chin, and a few less wrinkles on his forehead would have made him good-looking. The other man, Sir Ansel Hornton, was somewhat shorter, and even fairer than his companion. His head was covered rather thinly by very blond hair, and his small mustache, carefully waxed, was quite as light. The most vivid feature of his regu- lar face was the pair of light blue eyes now fixed with some intensity upon Miller. “Now that we’re here,’ said Miller bruskly, “I presume we had better get our local information about the course from some fisherman.” “We can not get on with it too soon for me,” replied Sir Ansel. For an instant they stared at one another, tight-lipped, and with cold, steady eyes. No man, seeing them then, could think them anything but deadly enemies. Then Miller turned, and beckoned im- peratively to an idler who had come to gape at the two white yachts, so foreign to that gray harbor. ‘We want to talk to a man who knows the Western Rocks thoroughly,” Miller said curtly. The man stared, and then laughed. “There ban’t any man knows un well, sir, but Rob Trevellick there—”’ he nodded toward a short, strong muscled fisherman December 8th, 1926 Ae who was setting his boat to rights at its mooring—“ ’e’s fished an’ lobstered ‘ mong un nigh a score 0’ years, an’ knows un bet- ter’n most. ’E takes fishing parties out when the weather’s settled.” “Hail him, will you?”’ Miller requested, and handed the man a shilling. The man looked at it, murmured, ““Thank ’ee, sir,’ and pocketed it with unhurried deliberation. ‘Rob, ho!”’ he shouted. Furriners want ’ee!”’ The man in the boat looked up, nodded, and after making fast a tyer around his mainsail, dropped into his dinghy and sculled to the steps with easy, powerful oars. Though credited with twenty years among the rocks he was not far beyond thirty. His countenance was keenly intelligent and frankly interested in these seamen from another world. Miller glanced at Sir Ansel. “Will you speak to him?” he requested stiffly. Sir Ansel did not give the fisherman time to scrutinize them before he _ spoke bruskly: “We understand you are familiar with the Western Rocks. We are here—on a wager—” he smiled mirthlessly at his scowling companion—‘“to sail a course around the Rocks. We do not require pilots, for each of us is handling his boat alone, but we want sailing instructions, “‘Come ashore! 131 MICLOOOKS C©