Adventure Magazine Cover — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

56 but kept his steel cap in place. Yaskolski had looked at him just as a flight of balls drove overhead with the scream of a thou- sand hawks. “Those cannoneers should be herding cattle,” the burly priest had said to Hugo. “They can not aim.” Hugo had looked after the calm figure of the priest curiously. “That priest is a man. He has smelled powder before.” When the war was over Hugo had waxed restless, as always. He had been offered a county by Yeremi himself, with an income sufficient to support a noble of his rank, if he would swear allegiance to the Diet. “Be under the orders of swine who stink of ale? Pfagh!”’ In view of his services, Hugo’s insolence was overlooked, but thereafter he drank alone in Zbaraj, until Pierre brought to his chamber the warrior-priest, Yaskolski, who offered the exile the colonelcy ofa regiment of armored cavalry. Hugo had hesitated. He respected Yas- kolski. Unfortunately he had been in his cups. “So, you would buy a man’s sword—the sword of a Hainault. Well, you are another breed from the shaven polls who prune their souls and nourish their bellies with tithes from the peasantry. But—death of my life—I will not do business with you.” Then he smiled. “Your words, Sir Monk, are an echo of my brother, who is likewise a priest. Doubt- less he is still praying for my soul. I have not seen him for a dozen years. They tell me he has gone, probably with others of his cloth, to the particular demesne of the devil on earth. That is Tartary. Well, I have a whim to go and see how Paul and his brethren relish the devil’s demesne.”’ These words had been like wine to the faithful Pierre, who had yearned for a sight of the young son of Hugo’s brother. Paul had promised Pierre that he and Hugo would yet sleep in the same bed. And Hugo’s cynicism hid anxiety for the wel- fare of the»priest, Paul. Yaskolski raised his great hands. “What, Sir Count? In Tartary are hordes of savages, and werewolves. That is a land beyond the domain of God. No man would go there, for he would be skinned alive and roasted by pagans.” “Permit me to correct you. I would go Adventure there. These burghers and butchers are but tedious society. The domain of the devil would at least be entertaining.” In these words, Pierre knew, monsieur le comte had declined a colonelcy to go to search for his brother. And from place to place as far as the Urkhogaitu they had had news of Paul, for few Franks passed over the caravan route that led from Moscow to Tartary. PIERRE came out of his stupor % § with a rattle in his throat. He caught his master’s hand. “You will be—alone, monsteur le comte,” he whispered. ‘‘There will be no one to laugh at your jests. If Monsieur Paul, your brother had not left you “The conversation of Monsieur Paul ceased to interest me years ago. These savages are, at the worst, originals, I learned somewhat of their speech in the Polish campaigns and more from the dog who led us on our way.” On their way hither! Pierre groaned at memory of the endless steppe where wild Cossack bands attacked them, cutting down the rest of their followers, of the gaunt mountains that led to a desert of sand and clay, and then the snow of the Altai. All at once his eyes started, and he pointed toward the interior of the hut. “A cross! I see the cross of the Redeemer hanging on yonder wall.” He closed his eyes and clasped his frail hands. ““Monsieur—a holy spot to which we— have come.” As his master continued to stare idly at the sunlight in the door at Pierre’s back, a sudden anxiety clouded the pallid face of the old servant. “Look, monsteur, and tell me if it is not true—what I see. There, in the shadows, over your shoulder. It is so dark I did not see the blessed cross before. And, look, Monsieur Hugo, there is the figure of the Mother of Christ and the silver candle- sticks—on the altar. See——” The count turned his head casually. He felt that the fever-ridden old man must be the victim of a hallucination. And actually his eyes, dimmed, by the sunlight at which he had been staring, saw nothing in the shadows. “There is—"’ He was on the point of saying there was COmmicloooks (C@)