Adventure Magazine Cover — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

The Village of the Ghost Malcolm nodded impatiently. “He said naught of me, Rajput; he said to beware of the man of Bhir castle who wears a black cloak. Nay, Rawul Singh, where is thy wisdom? Many men must have made away with thy children and cattle, if they were not to be seen when thou didst ride to the village. Alone, I could not have driven - away so many head of cattle in so short a space of time. Also would I have come thus, like a blind pig to thy house? Nay, throughout this afternoon I was engaged in marking the boundaries of the fields beyond the village. A score of men will tell thee so.” - Rawul Singh looked at the white man and was silent. _ Hot-headed as he was, he could understand when a man was speaking the > truth. “Why did this evil come upon me?” he muttered. ‘‘Lo, it was to tend the grave of my wife who died upon the journey that I remained in this accursed nest of Mussul- mans. They are not my people nor my casie—_— = “And because, Rawul Singh,’”’ mused Malcolm, “‘there were evil-doers in this vil- lage, they wished to be rid of thee, even as they desired to slay me. They learned the hour of thy return; they took the cattle, Tala and thy son. Then the servant of the potail lied, and thou didst believe.” He frowned thoughtfully. “And you saw a light in the castle?”’ he muttered in English. “Yes, sahib,” agreed Rawul Singh, who understood. Malcolm wondered if the invisible foe- men who had struck their first blow at him that night through Rawul Singh had actu- ally taken. Tala to the ruins. He thought not. But then who had made the light? ‘“Rawul Singh,” he said abruptly. “Tf I were the murderer of thy son, would I let thee live, to be revenged upon me?”’ “Na me ; “Vet I will do thus. ‘Rajput chief.” So saying, he undid the knots in the man’s turban cloth and picked up his own sword, sheathing it. Rawul Singh ex- pressed no pleasure. “Why should I live?” he said. “My son who was the blood in my veins is no more and my daughter has come to shame. My beard is dishonored and my name is no bet- ter than a dog’s. Let the jackals tear open the grave of my wife that I and those two I trust the faith of a 157 have tended and watered the young willows by it. Az—it matters not.” Malcolm turned away from the grief of the old man, to hide his own sympathy. There was no way to console Rawul Singh nor would the Rajput have thanked the Scot for attempting it. The rain was still beating down and Malcolm decided to remain the night where he was. Under the circumstances he judged the hut safer than the darkened castle where the other men might be waiting for him in the storm. He slept fitfully on the low divan that had been built for Rawul Singh’s children. Waking, he found the sun well up and the Rajput squatted beside him. There was a new light in the eyes of the old man. “Sahib,” he said at once, “your servant sought the read before dawn and the place where the scarf had been. Listening, he heard jackals snarling and found them scratching at loose stones. ‘The stones were piled upon a new grave. Sahib, I have looked upon the dead face of my son, who was strangled to death and his belly slit with a knife.”’ Malcolm rose and checked an exclamation of pity. “And thy daughter, Tala?”’ ‘Her body I did not find. The slayers of my son have taken her alive with them. It is my thought that she is kept in this neigh- borhood, because the slayers could not sell her, knowing what she does of their crime. Likewise, in Bhir are many hiding-places on the hill-slopes near the castle where they would be safe.” The Rajput seemed to be on the point of saying more. The sight of his son’s body had stirred him to tense excitement. But, looking at Malcolm, he was silent. Making a mental note that the old man knew more than he was adniitting, the officer asked another question. ‘“‘Knowest thou the slayers?” “Tf that were so, I would not be standing here, wasting words,”’ Rawul Singh grunted. “Sahib, natives have done this thing. Not one but many, of a powerful band. They cast dust in my eyes, so that, almost, I slew thee. That was for a purpose. So also are they keeping Tala for some other purpose.”’ It was a long speech for the Rajput to make, and Malcolm knew that his anger was aroused to fever pitch. Sahib,” he concluded, “before I met thee | COmiclboolks ©