Adventure Magazine Cover — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

26 he reflected, they had intended that he should be. But the white man? Was he the man who had written the mysterious message in blood on a piece of torn shirt? There was no doubt that the fellow was mad now. A renewed slither of a bare foot on rock drew him about swiftly. “Say, you!” he shouted. “I’m a white man.” The loud tones flew back at him in echo, mingling with another soft giggle. “Don’t do that!” he said sharply. The answer was a shriek, which was echoed in a dozen muffled responses, re- vealing that the man was within the cave. “My voice seems to irritate him,” re- flected Dorsay. ‘Better keep quiet till dawn.” He wondered what the time was, but decided not to light a match lest the flame excite the stranger. Holding the gun in his right hand, he began to edge along the wall of rock, feeling with his left. The wall was seemingly circular. A few yards away he stumbled over something on the floor which rattled. “He, he, he!’ came the giggle from the other side of him. “Go away or I’ll shoot!’ exclaimed Dor- say, startled at what he thought for a mo- ment was another maniac. “T’ll shoot!” returned the mocking single echo, followed by a wild screech thrown back in turn. Came the slither of bare feet on rock, and all was quiet again. Dorsay sank down cautiously on to his haunches, deciding not to move until he could see. Squatting with his back against the rock, he tried to puzzle out where he could be and what was about to happen. If this creature was the man who had written the message he must since have gone mad. Why? The possibilities suggested were not pleasant. If this man had never succeeded ‘in escaping, how could he expect to? But was there more than one man? What did the natives intend? Why should they im- prison a white man in the bottom of a hole until he went mad? What did they Sain? Was this the god the little doctor had spoken of, whom the Turkana were reputed to have? But a mad god—in a hole, kept in a pit like a bear? He recollected the story of the man who had been king or god of the Wakikuyu, but Adventure he had been practically free, living like a great chief among them. Macnamara had told him that he could have no idea of the practises of which savages were capable, of the strange rites which their fantastic be- liefs caused them to carry out. The night was chilly, but Dorsay felt colder still within. Imagination began to suggest dreadful manners in which this wreck of a white had become insane. “Not that,’’ he muttered, tightening his grip on the haft of his gun. Yet one couldn’t— Perhaps the other fellow A soft giggle nearer to him seemed to pinch the valves of his heart. “All right,” he said soothingly, and stopped to clear his throat. right.” 3 The man whined like a dog. “Oh, ,’ muttered Dorsay, stirring uneasily, ‘‘I shall go crazy before dawn if he goes on like that.” He looked up anxiously at the stars. A faint glow was staining one side; then he saw by the hue that it was caused by the half-moon mounting toward the zenith. “T’ve got to hold myself together,” he told himself sternly. “The day will come some time, and then I can see what I’m doing. Anyway things always look more awful in the night.” He sat on, gripping his nails into his palm occasionally at the frequent terrible sounds murmuring in the darkness. oy the tunnel top he gazed eagerly ° about in the lesser darkness. The dull mass which he had noticed before, as lighter than the surroundings, glimmered brighter until he made out vaguely a stack of elephant tusks. That, he thought, must be the “buried” ivory or ‘“‘goods”’ referred to in the message. The whereabouts of the madman he could not discover, and dared not investigate for fear of exciting him. Slowly the light faded again, and the stars grew brilliant as the moon passed over the far lip. Throughout the night the distant drums throbbed continuously. His legs and arms grew stiff with cold and the rigid position; for, every time he moved or coughed the other occupant made terrible whines—or giggled, which was worse. Time seemed to have stopped, but at length the pallor AS THE horned moon sailed above Gomichbooks “That’s all” (C@