Adventure Magazine Cover — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

THE PENNSYLVANIA LINE my advice, ye’ll have the cash in hand. "Twas the way Arnold had it.” Captain Allen’s control went with an hys- terical cry. “God!” he cried. fool sent with me!’’ ‘Because, uncle,’’ answered a cool voice from the other end of the table, “‘God is on our side, and therefore careful to always sad- dle a Burgoyne, or one like yourself, with two or three hundred of such as this. Otherwise the war would have ended long since in our destruction.”’ When Captain Allen spoke again, he had regained himself. Sores ““Ay, so it would,” he replied, “and, in spite of the handicap, so it will, and that very soon. And that is another point of the pres- ent matter that I recommend especially to your consideration. The Continental cause is crumbling like an ice dam in March. Your paper is not worth the ink with which it is printed; your credit in France is so low that Franklin will never be able to wile another sou from the benevolent Louis’ coffers. The French troops, from whom you hoped so much, are militarily useless for six months of the year, and a mighty drain upon your slen- der resources all the time. The wise and loyal merchants of the larger towns are al- ready putting pressure on Congress to ac- cede to our terms, and thus bring this waste- ful struggle to an end; but, before it can be done by those means, the finish will have come in another way. For Washington, the arch rebel, will soon be crushed, ground, and blown to the four winds, between Clinton and Carleton; for the Grants—the keystone of the north—are returning to their true allegiance!” He laughed; and the sound was like a be- lated echo of his nephew’s glee of the hour before; and strode around the table to stand over his godson, his hands pressed compel- lingly on the younger man’s shoulders. The latter neither moved nor looked up, but fin- gered something concealed in the pocket of his shabby blue coat. “Eh, Floyd boy,” the captain commanded coaxingly, “give up, give up this mad, un- equal struggle! As your uncles have done, and as your father would have done, if he had lived. Of the Allens you alone are now clinging to this sinking cause, and I would have us face the sun whole and entire, when the time comes toaccept Washington’s sword. You said a moment since that you were “God, why was this 7) 37 shamed by the name I gave you, but that same name will buy you peace and place and plenty from your true sovereign. Speak to your command—you best know how—and promise them homes and acres near your own, in the new province, the province that is about to be the Dominion of Champlain. A royal colony, conceived, wrought, and ruled by your kindred, the Allens!” He ceased, and there followed a long and utterly silent pause. The board sat back, withdrawn from and indifferent to what seemed to be a tribal foregathering. Cap- tain Bulkley patted in a yawn with two fin- gers, bored by this which he comprehended not. Young Floyd sat looking at a packet that turned between his long and nervous fingers. He seemed to be musing over some extraneous matter, rather than hesitating over an immediate course of action. Sud- denly he returned the letter to its former place, shaking off his godfather’s compelling palm as he straightened. “Pennsylvanians,” he demanded, “‘are you ready for the question?”’ A growled and sullen “ay” was the re- sponse. ‘“‘Then—are we Arnolds?” he inquired coolly, ‘‘and, if so, what is our price?”’ They were inarticulate, these men, in their emotion, but their meaning was not obscure. Captain Bulkley glanced appre- hensively over one shoulder, as if to assure himself of a retreat. Captain Allen stepped quickly back, white with wrath, his head held high, and spoke bitterly to his godson, who twisted in his chair to face him. “I’m done with ye!” he cried. ‘I’m done with ye for a scurvy, canting, ungrateful whelp! You might have been rich and hon- ored, you might have lived happy and at ease in the new province, you might have been royal governor, itself! But now you'll never look again upon the land for which you’ve sacrificed your name and credit, and the loyalty you owe your king!” Young Floyd struck the board under his hand in a passion of disgust. “King, king, king!’ he snarled. “I’m ill of that word ‘king’! Whatis afatand crazed old man, the sea itself away, to me? Curse your king, Floyd Allen!” Whiter yet, Captain Allen bent across Maine’s shoulder to repeat the gesture. “‘And curse your country, Floyd Allen he rejoined. ‘The land from which you’re |? COMMICLOo© S CO