Adventure Magazine Cover — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

The Wolf-Chaser nothing to be seen. But the cold hand of the dying man was on his wrist. Again Hugo shrugged and made up his mind anew. “There is the cross indeed,” he responded. “And the altar, as you have said.” So Hugo, to his own mind, deceived Pierre. It would make the dying man rest easier. “Ah, monsieur, you have never lied,” the servant muttered. ‘Now I can believe the miracle.” He began a litany under his breath. When his voice ceased his lips moved. Presently Hugo glanced at him, reached over and closed the eyes of the dead man. He freed his wrist from the grip of the clay that had been Pierre. After drawing the cloak over the other’s face he rose to seek some tool with which to diga grave. Agleam of metal came from the interior of the cabin, and he strode toward it. He saw for the first time two silver candlesticks standing on a rude altar of wood. 3 “Pestel’? was his thought. “Pierre has cast a spell over me, that is all.” Still, a closer inspection disclosed the wooden effigy of Mary beside the skilfully carved cross on which hung the figure of Christ. Untold labor must have gone into the making of it. Hugo glanced from it to the body of his servant, to the cabin of logs with the thatched roof, made after the fashion of peasants on his old estate. The floor was earth, strewn with pine needles. He was glad that he had said what he did to the dying man. Probably, he reflected, there were some Christians among the Tatars here. Yes, that old Ostrim, the falconer up the mountain, was one. Well, this was their chapel. And Aruk had said something about another Frank! That might well have been Paul. What had the Tatar hunter said? An ambassador from God? There was no one here, and the place bore no traces of occupancy. Suddenly Hugo raised his head and ad- justed the pistols in his belt, looked briefly to the priming, and went to the door. He had heard the tread of horses without. The pine grove was filled with riders. Some wore the skins of beasts over armor. All bore weapons. They sat in their saddles gazing at him curiously. One held the rein of his horse. 57 ““A strange congregation,” thought Hugo, freeing his sword in its scabbard, “‘has come to mass.” For the first time monsieur le comte was face to face with inhabitants of the land in a body. His quick eye ran over the throng, noting the ease with which they sat their ponies, their garments of leather and coarse wool and furs, their wild faces and direct eyes. He picked out two that appeared to have authority—a huge, gray rider with but one eye, and a scrawny figure in a long purple tunic and square, yellow cap. Hugo suspected this last was one of the baksa, the witch-doctors. This was the one who spoke first. “T am Gorun,” he chanted, “of the baksa of the Altai. I know when a tongue speaks a lie. I can, without touching you, place a sérpent in your mouth and summon it forth. If I do not take it out it will sting you to death. Have a care, Frank—”’ his eyes gleamed shrewdly—“for you have come to the place of the other Frank!” Hugo did not see fit to answer. “Vou are a spy of Galdan Khan,” growled Gorun resentfully. “You wear an eagle feather, like his officers.” A smile crossed Hugo’s lips. It was like child’s play. But, much im this manner, he had heard himself accused by a great cardi- nal at the court of France. So, he was an exile. What next? “You came to learn the secrets of the other Frank, who came to spy upon us— and tell them to Galdan Khan,” muttered the baksa. ‘I saw omens in the sky. this dawn and said that evil was afoot. It is so. You shall have your skin pulled off and the noble khan of the Altai will take your weapons.” For the first time the one-eyed warrior seemed to take an interest in the words of the baksa. He glanced with interest at the silver-chased pistols and the long sword with its heavy hilt. Just then a horse pushed forward into the cleared space between Hugo and the khan. Aruk bent down and touched his forehead. “Grant me speech,” he chattered. ‘‘May the fires of Yulgen burn me, but this is no spy. He isa falcon, or fama toad. He is a chief of warriors.” “Proof!”’ screamed the witch-doctor. “Tt is lying in front of Ostrim’s yurt, feed- ing the crows. Aye, with four thrusts of his sword this falcon slew four robbers.” COMICOoOoks (C@