Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

154 For a moment the girl stood open- mouthed and looked down queerly at the woman. Just as the white man beside her she, too, wondered at the ray of light in the dim vault. A ray which didn’t strike in from above. Somewhere in the back of the girl’s mind was a memory which had lain dead for many years. The girl’s mouth closed and a glorious smile of recognition lighted up her face. “Mine,” she said rapturously as she pointed to the clothing. Curiously the white man stooped to peer into the depths. “Yours,” he said thoughtfully. how in the ——” A shrill scream—a howling, crazy yell-— came from behind. A furious, maddened, reckless, rasping bellow. And with it came a hurtling, clawing, scratching, yammering naked body. The hurtling body landed cleanly on the white man’s back, and with brown arms tightly gripping his neck and brown legs locked round his waist the white man fell forward. But for his hands clutch- ing wildly at the side of the vault his head had been battered and cracked. With a startled squeal the girl jumped sidewise and ran to the farthest wall. Then turned and in horror watched the struggle starting before her. For several seconds she watched terrified; then the white man slowly regained himself and, levering at the arms locked round him and choking him, faced toward her. Instantly her eyes went wide with amaze- ment. Instantly another hidden memory flickered before her. And the eyes held firm, fascinated, on the claw like feet grip- ping together. The white man gurgled; the locked arms were immovable. The white man gasped. The gasp was a breathless rattle. Desper- ately he clawed and tore at the skin of the arms. The skin was dry and tough as leather. Wildly he tugged and strained. The nails on his fingers cracked and blood came. And the thing, grimacing, stayed glued to him as if a part of him. The white man’s chest was bursting, his ribs cracking, vet the thing on his back held him as in the grip of an octopus. Stuck to him like a leech. And as he stuck his breath came in fierce short squeals. Slowly, dizzily the white man commenced twisting round and round. His legs began wavering, the blood in his brain clouded his “But Adventure sight. Dully he reached round for his hunting-knife. That had been taken out to use and laid aside. The knees gave and the white man went down. Desperately he struggled to his feet and half fell into the trench around the vault. Again he managed to right himself. But the trench was narrow, the calves of his legs touched the side of the vault; the clinging body was levering him over. Levering him over to drop him and crash the life out of him. Wildly he tried to bend forward and get his balance, tried to fall forward and roll on the creature tormenting him. He hoped to crush and break the mouthing, gibing thing. . Of a sudden the arms around his neck re- laxed and the bony, sharp-clawed fingers dug into his throat. He groaned. A wild, piercing, furious, vengeful yell seemed to fairly rip the old tower. A shovel, wielded by two healthy, vigorous arms came down with a hollow whack. Brown man and white, still locked together, hurtled backward. to the bottom of the vault. Like a monkey the girl had lowered her- self and now bent over the white man. The Kafir beneath him lay perfectly still. With painful effort the white man pulled himself away and squatted aside to get his breath. From scratches and nail-holes the blood trickled from his neck and dribbled in little streams over his shirt. His sight was dull and bleary. Instantly as she landed the girl looked questioningly round. The first things her “eyes lighted on were the baby-clothes clasped in the long-dead woman’s arms. Ruthlessly, possessingly, she jerked them away. And with the tiny dresses of her babyhood she staunched the white man’s wounds and wiped away his blood. SHIVERING like a man stricken (a) with ague Charlie carefully levered himself to his feet. With distinct misgiving he stretched his arms and felt himself. Gradually his brain cleared and he smiled curiously. “That’s one way of conducting archeo- logical research,” he said in ponderous English. The glowing eyes of the brown girl very distinctly indicated that that was abso- lutely true, although she didn’t understand a word of it. COmiclbook CO