Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

820) ladder. ‘ That’s the man to talk to,” he concluded. ‘I'll show him that he can’t risk taking that crowd of Barker’s to Ma- bong’s. If fighting begins, he won’t come out unscathed. I'll put the case in front of him in the worst colors possible.” Now the darkness in the clearing was unrelieved by any lights except those of the glow worm and the firefly. Against the swaying walls of mosquito bar, armies of insects came wafting, with a hum of their many wings. Occasionally, larger wings flapped through the dark as some night- haunting bird swung between jungle and river. A double chorus that never ceased was made by the sharp staccato of the crickets, and the croakings of frogs. It was perhaps an hour after midnight when Lansdell heard Barker’s voice, rau- cously complaining in a half sleepy way. He went down the veranda and around the cor- ner to that wall opening which was close to Barker’s bed. ‘The latter was standing in the opening in his pyjamas, a lighted flash light in one hand. “What’s the row?” asked Lansdell. The light jerked to show a figure lying on the bamboo floor. It was that of the Chinese, who seemed to be breathing deep- ly. In one hand he held a long, small- bowled pipe. ‘Oh, you beggar!” scolded Barker. ‘I took you for a good boy, and here you’re a smoker!” Lansdell exclaimed in disgust. ‘‘ That’s the wav!” he mourned. ‘A man thinks butter won’t melt in their mouths, and the next thing you know they’re hitting the pipe!” “JT didn’t want him,” asserted Barker, letting the light go out. ‘In the first place, he don’t know enough English, and in the second, I hear he’s a convert. I always let that brand alone. It’s all rice- religion, anyway.” ‘May I have your light a moment?” asked Lansdell. When the small, black torch was in his hand, he bent and let its circle of yellow shine full into the face of the sleeping man. That face was smooth, relaxed, placid. ‘‘ You never can tell about John Chinaman,” added Lansdell as he handed the torch back. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. He managed to get Wray aside for a talk soon after a breakfast that was served at dawn. Kwong Wing had prepared it, and seemed no worse for his smoking. He bobbed a bright good morning to each of the four, and even responded with smiling ‘“'Yes-sies ? when requests came for more coffee. With Barker gone to oversee the preparations for the start, and Wray drawn aside for that short conference with Lans- dale, the Chinese sang to himself, all the while washing and packing swiftlv. Lansdell had no time in which to prepare Wrav for what must be said. Marcia was out of hearing, making her own prepara- tions for the day’s journey. Lansdell, so earnest that his voice shook in spite of him, came out squarely with his suspicions and his fears. That round, red-and-white face of Wravy’s paled at the words of the other, and the stocky figure slowly drooped into a chair, as if Wray were on the point of fainting. Then, his helmet clutched in his carefully manicured fingers, Wray gasped and stared, swallowed and shifted his feet. “‘ Good Heavens, man!” he said finally. “Don’t let Marcia hear you say anything like that!” ““Tve already told Miss Oldham that I don’t like the looks of things,” confessed Lansdell frankly. ‘‘ My conscience wouldn’t allow me to do anything else.” Wravy’s blue eyes hardened. The color came flooding back up his full throat. ‘“ Really, Lansdell,” he said, “ this is out- rageous! What right have vou to put such terrifying ideas into that girl’s head! And before consulting with me, too! Why— why—” ‘* But vou won’t go upstream, will you?” pleaded Lansdell. ‘I don’t mind if you curse me for what I’ve done. What I want to do Is stop this expedition here, Mr. Wray. I tell you, Mabong’s kampong is just like this one—except that you’ll have no clean hut for your camp to-night. Then where will you put Miss Oldham? And there’s danger, Mr. Wray! I knowit! I feel it!” Wray rose impatiently. ‘‘ You’re being dramatic or something,” he observed sar- castically. ‘Sixty men!” went on Lansdell. “ Why Conn GIOok