Adventure Magazine Cover — page 150: what you’re looking at

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

140 “Then,” said Severn, ‘‘don’t you imagine that the priests will be already fore- warned? Give the mystics due credit; they know a lot we don’t. Isn’t it more than probable that they have received telepathic warnings of your projected expedition?” Then Kilgore did a singular thing. _ made no answer fora moment, but presently lifted his arm and pointed to the blazing stars in the night-sky above them. When he spoke, his voice held a hushed but pro- found emotion—an emotion strange in so poised a man. “Can you realize what those twinkling - dots are—and not believe i in God?” he said softly. Severn made no response. words went deeply into him. Perhaps those CHAPTER III THE CITY OF THE WHIRLING SANDS a eehariae lay flat at the mouth of the defile and watched an extraordinary scene from beneath the curving rim of a great boulder. Before dawn they had arrived at the val- ley of Darkan. This valley had two en- trances, and this southern entrance was guarded by a single Mongol. As Kilgore had explained, the office of guardian was hereditary. Except for this one man, those of the tribe never ventured into the valley of the whirling sands. . Severn stared as a lone Sikh advanced, unarmed and openly, in the new light of day. The Sikh held his turban-ring over one -wrist. Ahead of him appeared nothing but rock. “A play for primitive curiosity,” said Kil- gore, low-voiced, from his position beside Severn. “If it wins—we win. Few men have seen a Sikh turban-ring at work. Watch.” | The Sikh came to a pause, stared around vacantly. Among the rocks ahead a single skin-clad figure stood up; the dull glint of a rifle-barrel was visible. The Sikh seemed not to observe it, but stooped and fumbled at the laces of a shoe. The Mongol stepped forward, rifle held loosely. The Sikh picked up a stone and threw it at some invisible snake or scorpion near by. The Mongol jumped, saw that his fear was groundless, came forward again. He Adventure Then for the second time the Sikh stooped to throw. The motion appeared awkward and ungainly. ‘The steel ring: left his hand, whirled out in a wide arc, and the Mongol stared at it in astonishment. The ring curved through the air, as a flat stone curves from the hand of a boy; it shot upward— and suddenly gave one terrible swoop downward. A cry burst from the Mongol. The razor-edge of that steel ring struck him meee neck and body. He vanished from sight. Day’s whistle shrilled. The Sikhs leaped up, ran for the defile. Severn-found him- self running with them. . They came to the lone Sikh rising from above the body of the Mongol, wiping his ring. He saluted Kil- gore and smiled. “Sahib, he was alone.” Day picked up a long tube of bronze which the Mongol had dropped. It was some sort of horn or trumpet. That’ its note could cover the ten miles of valley to the Darkan temple was an incredible con- jecture; yet here was the man, here was the trumpet—naught beside. “T guess,” said Day, “we won’t try the thing, eh? Come on.” The horses were brought up, and the fif- teen men rode through the defile. This, presently, widened before them, broadened out into a great valley of sand—a yellow waste in the morning sunlight, with yellow mountains to the left, purple-shadowed hills to the right. They halted to make camp beside a pool of clear, cold water in a hollow of the defile. “Three hours for sleep,” said Kilgore calmly. “Then on.” No fires were made. The Sikhs squatted, ate, talked in low eager tones. Severn and Day, who was also seeing this place for the first time, sat and listened to Kilgore, who _had an excellent idea of how the land lay. “Tmagine a great Y,” said the Canadian, “at the bottom of which we now stand. This lower portion is ten miles in length. Once it was a fertile valley, like those buried cities of Khotan which you have seen, Sev- ern. Under that sand ahead of us lies a eyo ‘This is the valley of whirling sands, that the legends tell about?” . “Exactly. At the upper end-stands the Darkan temple, the last remnant of that lost city. The right fork of the Y is short, only a few miles in length, and ends in a blank Eomichbooks (E@)