Adventure Magazine Cover — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

The Wolf-Chaser kissed, was no doubt dead—as dead as the soft-hearted Paul who had_ prayed. for her soul. “Paul,” murmuréd Hugo, making a sweep- ing bow with his hat—-on which the plumes were quite bedraggled—‘‘I commend her to you, a beautiful and a virtuous woman. There were few like her, my brother. Paul, will you tell me why in the name of the of yours back yonder, these Tatars who make but sorry Christians at best? That would be but a foolish end to a career that at least has had its distinctions.”’ Replacing his hat, for he was cold, Hugo reasoned tranquilly, although the rarefied air, as always, made him a little dizzy. ~Galdan Khan would bring up his cannon. A slow and difficult matter that, and not much gain in the end. But another assault over the ravine floor, leveled by the snow, and over the broken rampart—Galdan Khan would take the fort, such as it was, on the morrow. Well and good. Then why should Hugo stay where he was, like a cow in the butcher’s pen? “That is not how I would choose to be remembered at court,” he reflected. ‘‘Mon- seigneur the cardinal—if he is still mon- seigneur the cardinal—would laugh over his cards at such a droll thing. And then every one else would smile because, forsooth, monseigneur made a jest. That would be droll. Perhaps they have forgotten Hai- nault. By the horns of Panurge, if I should return ss Hugo laughed, reflecting that the soul of Pierre would be offended, up among the stars; for Pierre, the valet, had always believed that monsieur le comte would never break his word even to a Tatar. Well, it was too cold to stand there any longer. So Hugo, his long sword clanking at his side, strode down to where his men had gathered in a black bulk behind the rampart. For the first time they had horses in the pass, one to each man. They numbered a hundred and twenty, Hugo counted. Respectfully they waited for him to speak. “Eh, my dogs,” he cried, ‘‘have you your weapons? Have you eaten well!” “Father, we have.” “And each warrior has a horse? Good. It is time—time. Will you come with me, my dogs?” I should waste my life on these brats’ 71 A guttural murmur answered him. ‘““Aye, father. We will go with the Wolf- Chaser.”’ Tugging at his mustache, Hugo slapped Aruk on the back, a twinkle in his eye. He no longer minded the smell of sheep that exuded from the Tatars. “You will do better in the saddle than behind a wall, eat me if you won't. You have called me Wolf-Chaser. Eh, we will look for the wolf.”’ So saying, Hugo mounted a shaggy pony that made its way with some difficulty over the rocks of the rampart on the hard-packed snow. ‘The others followed irregularly. They headed down the ravine toward the Kalmucks. Keeping close to one side of the ravine, they were within the shadow, and the snow dulled the sound of the horses’ hoofs. So it was some time before a shape rose in the shadow to challenge them. Two Tatars spurred past Hugo and cut down the Kalmuck sentry, with only a dull clink of steel on mail. Other figures were stirring, though, down the ravine, which was broader here where they neared the bend in the gorge. Hugo quickened to a trot. A pistol flashed and roared, echoing from the rocks. ~ The Kalmuck patrol shouted and turned to run; but they were afoot, and the riders from the upper gorge caught them up at the curve in the ravine. A few blows, and the bodies. of the Kalmucks sprawled in the snow. “Swiltly now,” instructed Hugo. The Kalmuck camp in the plateau into which the ravine gave, was occupied only by two regiments of foot. These ran from their tents, snatching up the first weapon to hand as the Tatar horsemen reached the lines of the encampment. A few muskets barked, and arrows flickered in the moon- light. The Tatars shot their arrows as they gal- loped, for here the snow surface was level. Their beasts crashed in among the tents, trampling belated sleepers—for an attack from above had not been thought of. Over the horses’ heads sabers flashed and rose again. Men leaped to grapple with the riders. The fight was silent, except for the scream of an injured horse or:the wild shout of a Tatar who felt death. More slowly now, the horses pressed for- ward. Old Ostrim, shooting the last of his S COMnMICOOO (C@