Argosy, Vol. 120, No. 1 — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

— P ne; ~_ . Pe . ; c “0 Jack Bechdolt f J of “ The Torch,” “ Twenty Questions,” etc. COMPLETE IN THIS ISSUE. K CHAPTER I. his muzzle turned skyward, his brown eyes watching the man’s face. Occasionally he — made odd little whimpering noises in his HE squall came pouncing out of some throat that told his doubts of their wisdom recess of the gaunt Coast Range, in holding the course. blotting out all normal sights and Here the channel was about a mile wide, sounds. There had been, within half an and subject to sharp twistings. The floor hour, clear sky and pale sunlight, a sudden of it was lined with greedy reefs distinguish- hurry of all enveloping cloud, premonitory able in fair weather by their floating manes quickening of the wind, a dead calm, with of kelp. The land on either side broke ab- the channel waves running long and smooth, ruptly, and its irregular contour of cliff and like highly polished granite, then the-snuff- cafion abetted the erratic course of the wind, ing out of everything when all the weird shifting it from point to point, sometimes sisters of sea and land joined hands to spinning it like a top, sometimes losing it dance about, about. altogether. The whaleboat and its passengers, a man The ocean tide flowed-in from either end and a dog, rode the heart of the squall. of the island that fenced the lane from the In that witch’s carouse of snow and spray sea, and toward flopd-time the currents met. and howling wind the man who guided it In calm water you could see swift, flashing might as well be blind and deaf. There ridges splitting the smooth surface like thin was nothing to do but run before the wind ice cracking; weird bubbling and boiling as under a bare pole—and hope. ' if the sea were a great tea kettle and the He crouched over his steering oar, a white plumed cavalry of rival currents large figure of a man with heavy shoulders, charging, clashing, retreating until the whole the upper half of him muffled in a hooded surface was a battle ground. parka. His eyes were as gray as the blur In the snow squall all this went on un- of snow. His jaw was heavy and the thin seen, a fitting accompaniment to the in- lips parted on a gleaming grin of teeth. sanity of the wind and sky. , He handled the kicking oar with the ease Swift as the weather had changed, Fra- of strength and long practice, and the heavy ier Dean had been given his moment of boat answered him as readily as a canoe. decision. He might have landed in a shel- The dog was a rough-coated Airedale. tered bight and watched it pass, dryshod He pressed close against his master’s knees, and safe. If necessary, he could have 2§ COmicbooks.com