Adventure Magazine Cover — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

The Village of the Ghost Bhir, with the visiting merchants. They passed the hookah stem from one to another. Behind them stood their young male chil- dren, gazing wide-eyed at three or four buf- foons who, dressed as women and native dignitaries, danced about and sang to the sound of fiddle and drum. The little boys laughed, with a great show of white teeth, for the byropees, the comic actors of the village, were very funny. They had painted their faces grotesquely and their antics as thev imitated their superior lords were clever indeed. Isolated from the gathering, Hossein could see Malcolm sahib and Rawul Singh sitting against the wall of the castle beside an open niche. The Scot was smiling, but the Rajput’s lean face was grim. Having carried out his orders from Dom Gion in bringing the assemblage from the village to the castle, Hossein was free for the moment and he squirmed nearer until he lay in the deep shadow of the tower. The thug was trying to discover Dom Gion and Tala. Neither was visible; yet he knew both must be within sight of the tamasha. He paid no attention to the shrill voiced byropees, because he knew that a sterner drama, a conflict in reality, was impending. He knew that blood would be shed and the lives of the two men sitting by the wall would be attempted, yet in such a manner as to leave no suspicion of murder in the minds of the visiting merchants or the chil- dren. ON THEIR part Malcolm and Ra- wul Singh were alert and watchful, fe although the Scot puffed at his clay pipe tranquilly and the warrior played with the fire. Malcolm had received the gathering from Bhir calmly and expressed his pleasure at the tamasha. He noticed that no one bore arms—at least weapons that could be seen —and that the young boys were with the Bhir men. This might well be meant to drive away suspicion. Yet he could not understand why the men of Dom Gion, who he expected were present, would attempt violence before the bula admees—the respectable persons— among the visitors who were with them: Only one inkling did Malcolm have of what was in store for him. A big trader made a low, mocking salaam. 171 “Sahib,”’ the man said, “‘it is written that he who takes usury from others shall suf- fer” Rawul Singh would have responded at once and insolently—the idea of a bazaar money-changer invoking the term usury had in it something of the farcical—but Malcolm checked him. “The revenues of the government,” the Scot said crisply, “‘are not a tax but a pay-’ ment between friends. For what we take, we give value. Are your harvests gathered in?” 79 Aye.” “Then, for this season they have not been destroyed by native raiders from other States. And tell me this: have you been forced to pay tax on lease deeds to him who calls himself Dom Gion and master of Bhir —since my coming?” The man was silent, and Rawul Singh noted that he glanced covertly at the shad- ows on the right, the shadows cast by the tower. i “The man who made himself, illegally, master of Bhir,’”’ went on Malcolm with as- surance, ‘‘will no longer tax you. He has slain wrongly and his reward will be that of a murderer—hanging, if we take him alive, but in any event, death.” Malcolm had been thinking of the fate of his predecessors when he spoke, but the Bhir men fancied that he referred to Dom Gion’s connection with the thugs and deep silence fell for a moment. They watched Malcolm with shifting, - avid eyes. Before their eyes a contest was being waged between the ferznghi and the master of the thugs who did not permit himself to be seen. In fact much of Dom Gion’s prestige lay in his concealment with- in the confines of the castle. Judged by his acts, he was a man of immense power. It was a strange thing, thought the men of Bhir, that this sahib should show no fear of his enemy. Dom Gion had assured them through Hossein that the sakib would, in the midst of the music and shouting of the tamasha, fall to earth shrieking with fear. So they watched eagerly, to miss no de- tail of what would come. And it came so swiftly that Malcolm and Rawul Singh were unprepared. A cloak fell away from a figure squatting beside the musicians and a woman stepped through the ranks of men. In her hand was a bare — simitar. cComicboook CO