Adventure Magazine Cover — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

o Teme ite Dg ee, si oe =~ te = : ~< eS : 7 150 2 : Ya Tr though I really were to blame, and Rodney went free, bluffing it through—became a martyred hero. And then I couldn’t have gone home even if I’d wished.” With a depth of understanding very few men can know the two hands squeezed again. Squeezed, and each hand led straight up to a heart. ‘“‘The Black Sheep,” Bertie said soulfully. “The Black Sheep as usual. When they turn on us there’s nothing too bad to say. The world can love a murderer, but don’t they love to hate a Black Sheep?”’ “Hate us, Bertie? Of course they do. Every blessed time. To them we must al- ways run true to form, eh?” “Always—always—always, Frank.” The graybeard turned to where, in the dark, he fancied M’Poine would be. “M’Poine, make more fire, make more torches. Let us go and see where this man has fallen to.” The Kaffirs rose to creep off for the twigs. “Get much wood,” M’Poine impressed them. “The passage runs a long way, M ‘Lungu,” he added, “and the way is dangerous.” With torches preceding them the white men carefully moved over to the passage and entered it. A passage which towered high above them and seemed to be formed by a crack going up to nowhere. A rift rising up into blackest darkness. half an hour they picked their tortuous way along. “No great difficulty in finding one’s way,” Bertie remarked hopefully. “That is if we don’t run into anybody.”’ “And if we get anywhere when we do find our way,” the graybeard expanded. The guiding M’Poine reached a corner and turned it and immediately went slow- er—went slower and slower, went at a creep. His torch was close to the ground and ex- amining it minutely. For a hundred yards he proceeded, every step taken in horrified anxiety. The Kaffir came to a standstill and turned. His eyes bulged in stupefied terror. ““Nangul There!” he said as he faced ahead again and pointed. “Nangu, M’Lungu!l” The white men came up to him and lighted another torch—lighted it and held it high. The passage came to an abrupt sheer end. Before them a dense, inky black, bottomless pit. And for | st Bes * <a > - . a —- a a on a be ame —— Adventure And no far side to it! ——!” Bertie said as he stood utterly awestruck and stared before him. ‘¢__} or the way to it,” the gray- beard agreed more thoughtfully. n’t seem to lead anywhere else.” The torches, glaring and flickering, cast a fitful glow tiny and pitiful in the vastness. The crack above went sheer to infinity, the blackness ahead on without end. A Kaffir knelt and held his torch out over the precipice. The cliff went down straight as if gashed by a knife clean to the very vitals of the earth. Laboriously the graybeard pried loose a rock from the wall of the passage and dropped it over the edge. The sound as it struck the bottom could never reach human ears. The two white men straightened them- selves and looked nervously into each other’s eyes. “Tt does-° “We never came in that way, that’s. >? certain,” the graybeard asserted. “Yet there’s a ripple of air moving all the while, so the hole somewhere twists to daylight.” “Tt must,’ Bertie agreed. ‘And some- where the roof of that cavern back behind - must have some kind of crack or else there’d be no ventilation.” “That’s what I thought, too, Bertie. But cracks hidden hundreds of feet above can never be a help. All we can do is find our way back while we still have a light. Go back and search ‘around that huge hole there and try to find some other exit.” “Go back and sleep sounds better.” Wearily the men slowly ambled back. The passage seemed interminable. Each step the torturing thirst, forgotten in the excitement of hoping: to get out, became more and more painful. The hollow . stomachs seemed to rattle. The passage ended and the great hall loomed before them. ‘Totteringly they wandered along till they found the bed of twigs, then limply collapsed and sprawled on it. “May as well sleep,”’ Bertie said listlessly. “It’s about all we can do.” ‘“‘All we can do, Bertie. Rest and con- serve our strength till morning.” A sudden thought appeared to strike the graybeard clear between the eyes. “By Jove! Is it morning? It may be mains for all we know.” Gomichbook (E@)