Adventure Magazine Cover — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

Guns of the Gods ce Ah!” / His spurs rang on the stone steps, and, since Tess was standing close to the veranda rail, he turned to face her at the top. Sa- luting with martinet precision before re- moving his helmet, he did not get a clear view of the Rajputni. “As T’ve said many times, ma’am, the one house in the world where Tom Tripe may sit down with princes and commissioners.’ “Have you had breakfast?” He made a wry face. “The old story, Tom?” “The old story, ma’am. A hair of the dog that bit me is all the breakfast I could swallow.” “T suppose if I don’t give you one now you'll have two later?” He nodded. “T must. One now would put me just to rights and I’d eat at noon. Times when | I’m savage with myself and wait I have to have two or three before I can stomach lunch.” She offered him a basket chair and beck- oned Chamu. “Brandy and soda for the sahib.” “Thank you, ma’am!” said the soldier piously. “Where’s your dog, Tom?” “Behaving himself, I hope, ma’am, out there in the sun by the gate.” “Call him. He shall have a bone on the veranda. I want him to feel as friendly here as you do.” Tom whistled shrilly and an ash-hued creature, part Great Dane and certainly part Rampore, came up the path like a cata- are fantom, making hardly any sound. e stopped at the foot of the steps and gazed inquiringly at his master’s face. “You may come up.” He was an extraordinary animal—enorm- ous — big-jowled — scarred — ungainly and apparently aware of it. He paused again on the top step. “Show your manners.” The beast walked toward Tess, sniffed at her, wagged his stern exactly once and re- tired to the other end of the veranda, where Chamu, hurrying with brandy, gave him the widest possible berth. Tess looked the other way while Tom Tripe helped himself to a lot of brandy and a little soda. “Now get a big bone for the dog, ordered. “There is none,” the butler answered. 3? she | » a 13 = “Bring the leg-of-mutton bone of yester- y. oo ey “That is for soup today.” Chamu was standing between Tom Tripe and the Rajputni, with his back to the latter; so nobody saw the hand that slipped something into the ample folds of his sash. He departed muttering by way of the steps and the garden to avoid the dog, who growled recognition of the compliment. Tess’ Rajputni guest continued to say nothing, but made no move to go. Intro- duction was inevitable, for it was the first rule of that house that all ranks met there on equal terms, whatever their relations elsewhere. Tom Tripe had finished wiping his mus-_ tache, and Tess was still wondering just how to manage without betraying the sex of the other or the fact that she herself did not yet know her visitor’s name, when Chamu returned with the bone. He threw it to the dog from a safe distance, and was sniffed at scornfully for his pains. “Won’t he take it?” asked Tess. “Not from a black man. Bring it here, you!” The great brute, with a sidewise growl and glare at the butler that. made Chamu sweat with fright, picked up the borie and at a sign from his master laid it at the feet of Tess. “Show your manners!” Once more he waved his stern exactly once. “Give it to him, ma’am.”’ Tess touched the bone with her foot, and the dog took it away, scaring Chamu along the veranda in front of him. “Why don’t you ever call him by name, Tom?” “Bad for him, ma’am. When I say, ‘Here, you!’ or whistle, he obeys quick as lightning. But if I say, “Trotters!’ which his name is, he knows he’s got to do his own thinking, and keeps his distance till he’s sure what’s wanted. “A dog’s like an enlisted man, ma’am— ought to be taught to jump at the word of command and never think for himself until you call him out of the ranks by name. Trotters understands me perfectly.” “Speaking of names,” said Tess, “I’d like to introduce you to my guest, Tom, but I’m afraid “You may call me Gunga Singh,” said a S GComichboo —_ com ef