Adventure Magazine Cover — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

12 “For a young man?” “Perhaps not. other——”’ “There is something else. Tell me!” “You remember when you called atten- tion to the butler before I dismissed him? No man could do that. more discreet. You’re a woman, and you can dance.” : “So it is my shoulders?” she said. “TI will study again before the mirror. Yes, I can dance. Soon you shall see me. You shall see all the most wonderful things in Raj- putana!”’ “But tell me about yourself,” Tess in- sisted, offering the cigarets again. And this time her guest accepted one. “My mother was the Russian wife of Bubru Singh, who had no son. I am the rightful maharanee of Sialpore, only those fools of English put my father’s nephew on the throne, saying a woman can not reign. They are no wiser than apes! They have given Sialpore to Gungadhura, who is a pig and loathes them, instead of to a woman - who would only laugh at them; and the brute is raising a litter of little pigs, so that even if he and his progeny were poisoned one by one there would always be a brat left —he has so many!” “And you?” . “First you must promise silence.” “Very well.” ‘Woman to woman.” : “Yes,” “Womb to womb—heart to heart?” “On my word of honor. But I promise nothing else, remember.”’ eae speaks one whose promises are given truly! ‘We are already friends. But now that we are friends, I will tell you all that is in my heart now.’ ‘Tell me your name first.” She was about to answer when interrup- tion came from the direction of the gate. There was a restless horse there, and a rider using resonant strong language to the ner- vous animal. “Tom Tripe!”’ said Tess. than usual.”’ The Rajputni smiled. Chamu appeared through the door behind them with sus- picious suddenness and waddled to the gate, watched by a pair of blue eyes that should have burned holes in his back and would certainly have robbed him of all comfort had he pec aware of them. “He’s earlier But add one thing to an- A man would be Adventure THAW ON OLYMPUS BRIGHT spurs that add their roweled row To clanking saber’s pride; Fierce eyes beneath a beetling brow; More license than the rules allow; A military stride; Years’ use of arbitrary will And right to make or break; Obedience of men who drill And willy-nilly foot the bill For authorized mistake; The comfort of the self-esteem Deputed power brings— Are fickler than the shadows seem, Less fruitful than the lotus-dream, And all of them have wings When blue eyes, laughing in your own, Make mockery of rules! But when the fustian shams have flown Wise warriors new doctrine own And leave dead form to fools! CHAPTER II “Friendship’s friendship and respect’s respect, but duty’s what I’m paid to do!” —Tom TRIPE, ae man at the gate dallied to look at his horse’s fetlocks. ‘Tess’ strange guest seemed in no hurry either, but her movements were as swift as knitting- needles. She produced a fountain pen, and of all unexpected things a Bank of India note for one thousand rupees—a new one, crisp and clean. Tess did not see the signature she scrawled across its back in Persian characters, and the pen was returned to an inner pocket and the note, folded four times, was palmed in the subtle hand long before Tom Tripe came striding up the path with jingling spurs. “Morning, ma’am—morning! Don’t let me intrude. I’da little accident, and took a liberty. My horse cut his fetlock—nothing serious—and I set your two saises (grooms) to work on it with a sponge and water. Twenty minutes will see it right as a trivet. Then I’m off again—I’ve a job of work.” He stood with back to the sun and hands on his hips, looking up at Tess—a man of fifty—a soldier of another generation, in a white uniform something’ like a British sergeant-major’s of the days before the Mutiny. His mutton-chop whiskers, dyed dark brown, were military mid-Victorian, as were the huge brass spurs that jingled on black riding-boots. A great-chested, heavy- weight athletic man, a few years past his prime. “Come up, Tom. You’re always wel- come.” “comicboo (E@)