Adventure Magazine Cover — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

They Always Run True to Form walked the full width of the high stockade— walked with the happy knowledge that a dozen willing sharp iron points were ready to aid each one along should he so much as falter. With more accustomed eyes the two. white men stared mutely. Upon each scowl- ing Kaffir’s head a towering headdress of ostrich feathers swayed and flowed as they hit the breeze. Around each arm, each leg, strips of long, hairy monkey-skin streamed and flowed as they moved. They carried shields and arms as though prepared for war. Numbly each white man’s brain fought to conceive their purpose—sought to con- ceive their purpose, yet prayed his thoughts were wrong. This must be some great, great occa- sion—some feast, some rite, some dance. some ——? And they to provide the show? The party left the great stockade, passed through the gateway, down the steep mountainside and out into the smiling veld. Always before them danced a mouth- ing man. One mouthing, frothing man ahead, and at his heels two others. Two men in strips of monkeyskin with necklaces and belts of snake and lizard skins, and armlets and leglets of fluttering hair. And, watching and mimicking, exactly as the madman did, so they did. The scowling, scuttering mob pushed through a sea of brown, dry grass as high as most of their shoulders. The stockade became farther and farther in their rear; the rocks all round-it hid it. Nothing but the innocent sides of the huge hill remained. Abruptly the tall grass broke in a straight line as though mown down by some ma- chine. Away for perhaps a mile was a square, rolling patch of sand—sand broken by myriads and myriads of hills—ant hills each as big as any Kaffir hut, and made by raids on trees and built up where those trees had been. - The crowd stood still. Swiftly the gib- bering, mouthing man danced wildly out a full hundred yards away across the open. Dancing he teetered back and halted dead before the nearest scared white man. Jabbering he leaned his face close to the white man and snapped as though to bite him. The white man winced. SS ae a eet ae ee WS en rae ae a sae i hr he So Ra Son See ge eS es a ia at oe ~ eto ae 159 The crazy thing laughed and jumped back, then beckoned for the crowd to move again. With padding feet the multitude went on. Wildly the thing gyrated, screamed, and shrieked. And on each side a hideous thing with flapping monkey skins spun and howled with him in wracking unison. The nearest hills were but a dozen yards ahead. The mouthing thing sprang lightly as a young monkey to the top of one and loudly squealed. Naked and bronzed by months of burn- ing sun his: body shone as though of bur- nished copper. Roughly the mob straight- ened the single winding line of prisoners and brought them all abreast, then drew behind and in awed silence waited. And Frank’s weak knees were knocking, his legs quite past control. And Bertie’s lips went hard and dry. The jabbering man leaped down and bounded on from hill to hill, as though each foot of ground were known, and known quite well. At one great hill he stopped and, stooping, pointed wildly to four defined, yet unmarked spots—corners which formed a rough, though wide-topped, square. The two men with him bent over and carefully watched his hand, then, howling, moved away with him again. Six times the mouthing, frothing thing came to a stop. Six times the stinking men beside him stared to where he showed and bowed to his command. Sickeningly the white men watched them, and Frank’s big heart stood still. The points upon each hill were on the sloping side of the hill, the widest points above, the narrowest below. And there, but a short hundred yards away, still lay a pegged-out, sun- - bleached skeleton. Waveringly the eyes of Frank came round to those of Bertie. Painfully the eyes struggled to carry a message. The eyes were dim and misty, and black spots flew about. The filmy eyes, unseeing, car- ried no word at all. Painfully the graybeard licked his lips and tried to speak. The trembling lips mummered together, then uttered a queru- lous crack. Shakily Bertie made to whisper, then the eyes of both men came ahead again. And inside each man’s skull there seemed a cold, cold wind. From out the crowd of scowling blacks . -comic S 000) (E@) “ Lo Pes OA ete eee we, pat Se ee —Sifeg <a Sie ee ee ee Ee Sp pecte Fe Se she ~...