VOL. LV

January, 1928

No. 3

IN

CHAPTER I

THE LOST OASIS

Na dusky violet sky a few pale gleams began to show, while below, the far blue of the Hudson deepened to sapphire and the newest of new moons clung like a cobweb to the primrose afterglow. So high above New York that the lights of the city showed like wrecked stars, stood the great town house of "Big Jim" Donegan, multimillionaire lumber-king, known all the world over for his collection of gems and precious stones.

That spring evening the mansion gleamed like some great jewel itself with its facings of rosy quartz and green jasper, all ablaze with lights, for the collector was giving a dinner to a group of adventurers who had won for him some of the chief treasures in his collection. Like everything else which Big Jim did, the dinner was a spectacular one. On either side of the great slab of solid mahogany which made a table-top for the lumber-king, shone the emerald and sapphire tails of two roasted peacocks which had been sent down from his country place at Cornwall.

"How long since you been eatin' peacocks, Jim?" inquired a little man with iron-gray hair and beard and steady, steel-gray eyes, who sat at Mr. Donegan's right and who was none other than Jud Adams, the famous hunter and trapper, known to be one of the best rifle-shots in all America. "I've a flock of 'em up at my place in Cornwall," returned the old man, "and once in a while I have a few sent

down. They make better eating than turkeys and they don't cost any more. They couldn't. Everything I raise on that blame farm of mine sets me back about its weight in gold."

It was a curious gathering of guests who sat around Big Jim's table that night. Beside Jud Adams was a middle-aged man with a long, cleanshaven face, who wore a pair of horn spectacles on a tremendous domineering nose, behind which a pair of abstracted blue eyes peered out at the world. The owner of said eyes and nose was Professor Amandus Ditson, the great naturalist who had organized the expedition which brought back the Inca Emerald to Mr. Donegan's collection.

Beside the scientist sat Captain Vincton, a man of very different type, who wore a monocle and a small waxed mustache, while his eyes, one black and the other a gray-blue, gave a strange effect to his pale face. In spite of his almost effeminate appearance the captain was the head of the native police in British North Borneo and the hero of many desperate exploits, one of which had resulted in securing for the lumber-king the famous Red Diamond from Amboyna.

Opposite the men sat two boys, Fred Perkins and Will Bright, who in spite of their youthful appearance, had been through adventures together in different parts of the world such as rarely fall to the lot of boys of any age. Fred was slim with the deep dark eyes of a dreamer in his oval face, while Will was broad-shouldered and sturdy with a shock of copper

colored hair and blue eyes which had come down to him from some faraway Viking ancestor.

The two boys had been schoolmates and were fast friends. Since then, with Joe Couteau, the Indian boy, they had journeyed to Goreloi, hidden in far-away northern seas and brought back for Jim Donegan's collection the famous Blue Pearl.

The dinner, served by Saki, Mr. Donegan's deft, silent Japanese servant, was perfect, as might be expected, for in his latter days the lumber-king had become a great epicure. With his round, red face and white hair, Big Jim, in spite of his blustering ways, made an ideal host.

With neither chick nor child of his own, he was as fond of the boys as if he had been their own father and had learned to have a great respect and admiration for Captain Vincton and Professor Ditson, while Jud Adams, in spite of their continual squabbling, was his oldest and best friend.

Saki had just finished serving what was probably the finest Nesselrode pudding ever seen on the North American Continent, and Jud Adams had especially enjoyed it.

"This beats those durians you gave us in Borneo," he shouted across the table to Captain Vincton.

"Is it as good, Jud, as that roast dragon that you liked so much in South America when we were after the Inca Emerald?" called Will from where he sat.

The old man shuddered slightly at the memory of the iguanas which he always insisted upon calling "dragons."

"I certainly had to eat some strange grub traveling around with you boys an' the perfesser," he soliloquized, "but this pudding beats them all except perhaps those palm-nuts that Pinto roasted for us when we were starving on Death River."

As Saki was serving coffee at the end of the dinner, Mr. Donegan rose ponderously from where he sat. Everybody pounded on the table and shouted "speech" except Captain Vincton, who in true British style called out, "hear, hear."

"I ain't going to make any speeches," said the old man, fumbling in his pocket, "but I've had made for you as a souvenir of this dinner copies of the different stones which you have all helped bring to my collection."

Pulling out from his pocket a velvet box, he snapped it open and there, gleaming against the dark background, lay a marvelous replica of a great pink pearl.

"That's the first stone which you and Couteau, the Indian boy, brought back to me," he said handing the box to Will. "That was the time," he went on, "when you two boys won the cabin for the Boy Scout troop by starting into the north woods one rainy night without fire, food or clothes and sticking it out and fighting for your life with Scar Dawson and his gang."

Will was just stretching out his hand to take the box when, "How about me," inquired a voice from the door, and in slipped a lithe boy with the red-brown skin and murky eyes of a long line of Indian chiefs.

"Joe Couteau," shouted Big Jim, while Will and Fred sprang to their feet and rushed forward to shake his hand. Ever since Joe had come back from the adventures already chronicled in "The Inca Emerald," he had been out in the far northwest arranging for the government protection and education of his tribe, and none of his friends had seen him for over two years. In a moment the boy was the center of a little group with Will and Fred and Jud all trying to shake his hand and slap him on the back at the same time, while Big Jim bore down upon them, his bushy white hair bristling with excitement, with another jewel box in his outstretched hand.

"Sure, I've got a pearl for you," he boomed, rescuing Joe from the crowd. of well-wishers who had mobbed him, and thrusting into his hand another box containing a perfect imitation of the great pearl.

"It'll save me sending this and I'm glad you've come back in time to see old Jud Adams again," he went on. "He's so old now that he's liable to go off most any day."

"I ain't near so old as you be, Jim Donegan," piped up the little trapper, much incensed as usual by any reference to his age. "I can do anything anybody here can, only better," he shouted loudly, aroused by the circle of grinning faces which surrounded him.

"You can't catch armadillos," suggested Will, referring to the time when cne of those armored animals had run between the old trapper's legs and tipped him over.

"I can't allow Mr. Adams very much on manta-rays," added Professor Ditson primly, referring to a night at the mouth of the Amazon when the old man had been scared nearly overboard by the sudden apparition of one of those surprising creatures skimming like a monstrous twenty-foot bat above the surface of the water. It was Captain Vincton with his British drawl who completed Jud's discomfiture.

"There was a monitor-lizard when we were after the Red Diamond which seemed to-erhave a slight

advantage over our old friend here," he suggested deprecatingly.

The old man, much exasperated, glanced from one to the other of his tormentors appealingly.

"I may not be so good against seadevils and armadillos and lizards and snakes and sech, but there has been a number of times," he said slowly, "when my shootin' has been quite a help to each one of you. Do you follow me or am I all alone?"

There was a repentant response from every one there.

"You're a good egg, Jud," said Captain Vincton, "I was only spoofin' you a bit."

"As Hen Pine used to say when we were on Death River," chimed in Professor Ditson, 'You sure is the hittinest shooter I ever see.""

"It was your shooting which saved all of our lives when we met the magicians at Amboyna," said Will, and Fred nodded his assent.

It remained for the newly-arrived Joe to add the last word.

"Jud," he said solemnly in the clipped English which he still used, although he had spent nearly half of his life in civilization, "you the best shot of any man, red, white or black. You good as my uncle used to be when he alive," which was Joe's highest tribute, for according to his views this uncle, with whom he had spent his early boyhood, represented the perfection of strength, skill and wisdom. "You look ten years younger, too, than when I saw you last," he finished tactfully.

A mollified grin stole over the old trapper's rugged face.

"You pay no attention to funny

cracks by Big Jim," went on the Indian boy, "he only jealous because he can't hit the out-trail like you and me and these other young fellows."

The millionaire chuckled at Joe's audacious remark. "Impudent young scoundrel," he bellowed delightedly. "The worst of it is that he's right. I'd give all my money if I could take a trip with you boys and have the adventures which you have had and which every man ought to have while he is young that he may enjoy their memory when he gets old."

Peace having been thus restored, Joe was given a place between Will and Fred while Saki served him with slices of roast peacock and all the other delicacies of the dinner.

While he ate, Mr. Donegan resumed the presentation of the trophies which his coming had interrupted. Producing four more velvet boxes he handed to Jud, Will, Fred and Joe an exact reproduction of the

Blue Pearl from Goreloi, larger than a marble, which seemed to combine in its depths all the blues of earth and sky. Then came the Inca Emerald, a glowing mass of translucent green, the size of a hen's egg, a copy of that famous emerald which Jud and Professor Ditson and Will and Fred had brought back from the depths of that

four great stones which I could have made. The only one who gets all four of them is Will Bright," he went on briskly, "and I propose that he tell us how he and Fred came back through the caves from the People of the Peak after Fred killed the seladang. I heard all the rest of the story from that old talking-machine,

city. So far as I could tell it was about a mile across and rimmed all around with rose-colored walls all carved with friezes of gods and heroes. There was a square in the middle of the city full of buildings and temples and the people were taller and betterlooking than us Americans." "No, no, Bill," objected Jud, "ain't

haunted lake of Eldorado near the Lost City of the Incas.

Last of all he presented to Captain Vincton, Professor Ditson, and Will and Fred, reproductions of that strange stone, the Red Diamond, which they had brought back to him from the grim island of Amboyna where their lives had hung by a thread during their whole stay among the fierce tribe which guarded its secrets. "They are only imitations," said the lumber-king as his guests finally finished admiring the prismatic colors, "but they are the best copies of those

Jud Adams," he went on, "but even he ran down when it came to that part because he wasn't there."

"Well," said Will modestly, "it was this way," and the whole party settled back to hear the tale of the boy's adventures with that lost Greek colony who had founded the mysterious city in the vast crater of an extinct volcano.

For a moment Will hesitated.

"It's hard to give an idea of what we saw," he said at last slowly. "It was as if we had gone back three thousand years into some old Greek

you got no patriotism? There ain't no betterlooking people on earth than those who live in the little old United States. Of course Jim Donegan an' you an' Perfesser Ditson are exceptions, but just take a look at me an' Fred," and the little man puffed out his chest impressively.

"Quite so, quite so," murmured Captain Vincton, adjusting his monocle, "we can all see that, but do let William go on."

"We had an exciting time leaving the place with the Red Diamond," resumed Will. "Some of the priests"

At this moment there came another interruption so strange and unexpected that the whole company forgot all about that colony of ancient Greece, and to this day the adventures of Will and Fred among the People of the Peak remain untold.

Saki suddenly came into the room and whispered something to Mr. Donegan.

"Tell him I'm at dinner and can't see anybody," bellowed Big Jim in what he fondly thought was a whisper.

"I so tell him," murmured Saki. "He say he know who you at dinner with and that they know him and that he must see you and them. He big bad fellow," ended Saki.

"He is, hey," shouted the lumberking. "Well, tell some of the downstairs men to throw him out. That's what happens to big bad men who try to see me when they're not wanted."

A moment later there was the sound of scuffling in the hall and a huge man burst through the door. Two of the servants vainly tried to hold him back but with a single flirt of his great arm he hurled them back and strode up to where Mr. Donegan was sitting.

The stranger was a giant of a man nearly seven feet tall, with a fierce, sinister face. Across his forehead his joined brows made a black bar beneath which his eyes gleamed green like those of a wild animal. A knife slash in some desperate fight had laid open his right cheek from eye to chin, leaving a long white weal which had drawn and distorted one side of his face until it looked like a dreadful mask.

"Scar Dawson," exclaimed Will, and sprang to his feet, while the fingers of the Indian boy instinctively closed over one of the knives on the table before him. Captain Vincton's action was quite as prompt. In spite of his monocle and waxed mustache, that slim, dark Englishman had hunted down many an outlaw in the Far East more dangerous than the fiercest wild beast, and instinctively he recognized the man before him as a killer of the worst type. Like some juggling trick a blunt, blue automatic appeared in his right hand.

"Stand where you are, my man," he ordered in his usual clear, slow drawl, "and don't move your hands either," he went on more sharply as the giant's sinister gaze traveled to his face.

The old collector's eyes glistened. "What does such scum as you know about the Snake-Blood Ruby?" he asked. "It's been seen only twice in the last hundred years, although all the collectors in the world have been searching for it."

Dawson regarded him with a sneer. "Perhaps they didn't look in the right place," he said jeeringly. "I know more about rubies than you think I know. I know how you and the captain there got the Rajah Ruby. In fact I was after it myself and with a little luck would have beat you to it. As for the Snake-Blood," he went on steadily, "I have seen it with these two eyes of mine and within a year. It's twice the size of your Rajah and has a color which would make it look like a piece of red glass. If I had money and backing I'd get it. I haven't. That's the reason I come to you. I know you're a square shooter and I'm willing to turn the secret over to you as to where it is and trust you to give me ten thousand if and when you get it."

to one of the Moguls of India. At the time of the Tatar invasion of India it disappeared. Back in 1750 Sir William Gordon claimed to have seen it when he was searching for the source of the Nile, and half a century ago it was reported by a French explorer as hidden somewhere in Africa. Since then all trace of it has been lost."

Then he suddenly turned to the outlaw.

"Dawson," he said sternly, "you're free to leave this house and no one will follow or molest you. If you wish you may leave me what information you have about the ruby. If I get it through your help I'll pay you the sum you ask. If not you don't get a penny."

"Fair enough," returned the outlaw grimly. "This crowd ain't quite the pack of yellow dogs I called 'em. I wanted to get some action, an' I guess I have."

At this he calmly began to take off a tattered old coat which he wore tightly buttoned up around his neck, and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt,

"Times are not what they used to be," he said. "I've been hunted across the world and back and I'm

"Put up your gun," he said in a deep hoarse voice. "I didn't come here to start anything; not that I'm afraid of the whole lot of you," he went on with a flash of his strange eyes. "What do you come here for," inquired Big Jim Donegan menacingly. "There's a reward out for your arrest and has been for years."

"Never mind that," returned Scar Dawson sullenly. "I'm here to make this bunch a proposition and find out whether you're he-men or just the cowards I take you to be."

It was Will who answered him. "You didn't find Joe and me cowards when we took our Blue Pearl away from you and killed your bloodhounds and beat you and your gang even when you burned the cabin over our heads."

"You'll gain nothing by this kind of talk, Dawson," Mr. Donegan interrupted sternly. "Keep him covered Captain Vincton and I'll have Saki ring up police headquarters."

The outlaw's lowering face showed no signs of alarm.

"Wait," he said imperturbably as Saki started to leave the room. "Which would you rather do, Jim Donegan," he went on coolly, as the servant stopped at a signal from the lumber-king, "have me arrested and collect a reward or have me sell you the secret of the Snake-Blood Ruby?"

I've found out how to land the SnakeBlood and I want to cash in on it and settle down and be safe and provided for in my old age."

Although the outlaw's last words seemed to have a ring of sincerity in them, yet both Jud and Professor Ditson shook their heads in opposition to the plan.

"He'll only double-cross you, Jim," said the old trapper.

"Even after I had saved his life, he tried to rob me," protested the scientist.

The black-browed giant looked down at them all sneeringly.

"It's what I expected," he said. "You haven't any of you got the guts of a louse. I'm takin' all the chances. You're takin' none. You may throw me in jail when you get the ruby and never give me a cent. The trouble with this bunch," he went on, "it's made up of a lot of old men who've lost their nerve and young kids who never had any."

"We ain't lost our nerve any, Scar Dawson," shrilled Jud. "Nobody here's afraid of you, but each one of us trust you just about as far as you can sling an elephant by the tail."

"What is this Snake-Blood Ruby," inquired Professor Ditson, interrupting this exchange of compliments.

"It's one of the most celebrated of all the historic gems," returned the old collector. "Originally it belonged

the branch of some old oak. Above his right elbow showed a great patch of livid red like a birth-mark or some old scar.

Then, stepping over to the table, Dawson calmly appropriated a vinegar cruet and a napkin, much to Big Jim's irritation.

"Say fellow," he growled sarcastically, "make yourself quite to home. If there's anything else you want, we'll send out for it."

Dawson gave him only a quick glance from his scowling eyes and pouring some of the vinegar on the napkin, began to rub the red patch on his arm with it. Under the moistened cloth the red mark gradually disappeared and as it faded away a tiny map tattooed in brown sepia began to show on the skin of the outlaw's arm. In another minute all of the guests at the lumber-king's dinner were gathered around the great figure, their animosity against him forgotten for the moment.

"That sure is some way to hide a treasure-map and yet have it handy," said Jud at last.

"You've said it," agreed Dawson grimly. "Before I got out of the desert I was stopped and searched a dozen times by Tuaregs and Bedouins. If they had found any map on me my throat would have been cut the next minute. It was the old chief himself who showed me the trick. He lives on the Lost Oasis in the heart of the Libyan Desert."

Professor Ditson, who had been examining the drawing intently, looked up. (Continued on page 242)

OND

NE of the hardiest of the duck family, the goldeneye, or whistler-duck, seems to enjoy his happiest moments when the bay is frozen over, the North Wind whistles through any number of layers of woolen clothing, and the majority of the other less sturdy birds are seeking shelter. The music of his wings as he "whistles" through the early morning air brings its own message to those who have ears to hear. It says first, of course, "Here am I"a welcome greeting to the hunter or bird-lover who has reluctantly left a specially warm bed long before dawn to be able to answer just such greetings. It also foretells probable cold and bitter weather. Few expert naturites would prophesy a rise of the thermometer when the whistlers were "cuttin' around." They do not arrive until late in the season, and their departure takes place before the spring thaws.

With their brilliant golden eyes, which are continually rolling around to take in new objects of interest in the surroundings, and their distinctly "oversized" heads-soft green in the case of the male and a dull brown in the female they win one's heart at the outset. To watch a bunch of whistlers bobbing up and down in a wind-hole in the ice, apparently unconscious of the drifting "slush" forming into ice-pack all around them as they dive fifteen or twenty feet below the surface in search of fish, or the tender roots of wild grasses that grow on the bottom, for their morning meal; until finally, sent a mile or two away to another ice-hole by some whim or unknown urge, they clatter up into the air and "musically" disappear in the distance-to watch this is to add one of the beauties of life to the list of lasting memories.