Adventure Magazine Cover — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

II2 was satisfied that the serpents had gone I went over to him, calling— “Now, don’t move a limb! ‘“‘Now, Gandhi, I guess we’ll talk dif- ferent,” I began as I stopped to run my hand over him for a gun, and stopped. I saw faintly beneath the shadow of his silham a wispy gray beard, and the band- aged stump of the httle finger on his left hand. “For the love of ——!” I exclaimed. “Sabah!” “Yes, sir,” he responded suavely. “TI am Mohammed Sabah!’ XVII BANg “BUT what the ——’re you doing RED + here?” I demanded. “I come here to practise with the snakes, Mr. Tromp,” Sabah replied. ‘Practise with the snakes! For the Lord’s sake, ’re you a darned snake juggler, too?” “T used to be many vears ago, Mr. Tromp.”’ “You did, huh? But see here, what d’you mean by playing the traitor? That Gandhi fellow says you were betraying us to him all the time. Is that true?” “In a manner oi speaking, sir.”’ “In a manner of speaking!’ D’you know I ought to shoot you on sight?” “That is not usual with gentlemen, sir, without investigation,”’ replied Sabah calmly. I stared at him for a moment, unable to realize that he was not Gandhi. Somehow I didn’t feel angry with him, and vaguely recollected Fieldmorre’s apology for him— that he had been tortured between his con- science and his religion. Yet he seemed curiously unafraid and self-confident; ap- parently he had lost entirely the melan- choly that had made him look like a sick buzzard. “Get up,” I ordered him,: “and walk straight ahead to that ruined pillar there. And don’t try to run or PI put a bullet in your back.” “Certainly, Mr. Tromp. pleased to see vou.” “Lhe ——- you “arely=-said_ along.” He rose as sedately as ever and slowly marched ahead of me to the pillar indicated. “Now halt. Got any guns? Hold up your hands again.” I am very ‘““Get Adventure He obeyed docilely, and I ran my hand over him and in his skarrak. ‘Now sit down there and give an account of yourself.” ‘‘Where, please, is Lord Fieldmorre?”’ he demanded as he complied. “Out scouting for food. He'll be back presently. Now if you want to keep a whole skin just sit up and answer questions. Where are Véron, Hardwicke, the doc and the others?” “In the city, sir.” ‘All together and safe?” ‘Yes, sir.” “Have you heard anything about another white man—Thorpe, you know, who wrote that diary?” — ‘No, Mr. Tromp.” “Well, why did you betray us to this Gandhi?” “In a manner of speaking, Mr. Tromp, I could not help myself; and again that is a long story.” “Is that so? Well, I guess it’s a long night, so get busy with it.” “Tf you don’t mind, sir, I prefer to explain to Lord Fieldmorre.” “T advise you to get along with the yarn if you have one and not quibble-quabble about it.” “Quibble-quabble, sir?” “Never mind that,” I snapped. don’t you want to tell me?” ““Because I don’t like you, sir.” T laughed in spite of myself. ‘“‘What have I done to deserve that?” I asked, amused. “That I prefer not to say, sir.”’ “Well, cut that and do as I tell you.” “You may force me because I value my life extremely, sir, but who but Allah may know whether I may lie to you?” Again I laughed at the naive statement; and, having started to laughing, I felt in- clined to humor him. And anyway his last remark was more than probably correct. “All right,” said I. “‘T’ll leave it to Lord Fieldmorre. He engaged you, so I guess he’s more responsible than I am.” “Thank you, sir. I have always been polite to you because you were Lord Field- morre’s friend.” “That’s all right. Now shut up and don’t try to get away, that’s all.” “T won’t, sir, as I wish to see Lord Field- morre. You may trust me.” “Like —— I will,” I growled. “Lord!” COMmicaoo® S (©