Adventure Magazine Cover — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

ae — ¢ gah ES A ins 4 Sof Se 28 motionless, glowering at me. Meanwhile I listened, dreading to hear some sudden outbreak that would show Pedro was caught. But none came. At last the soft wail of the owl sounded outside, and soon Pedro came in again. ““Pagé, | have said you are a liar,” he rasped. “I say it again. No prisoner is in that maloca. I have looked inside and watched the people of the Bat long enough to know.” The pajé answered never a word. His sullen stare did not waver. “Now the day ends,” Pedro added, ‘‘and we must go.” A grim light passed over the other’s face. I read his thought—that now he could put men on our trail. But my comrade’s next words brought to his forehead the blackest scowl I had yet seen there. “Ves, we go. And since your spirit of the jar yonder is dead, we fear you may be lonely. So we shall not leave Sos alone. We take you with us. “Lying priest, say farewell to the people of Andirah. Turn. Go out. Face to the east. Now march!” / we came again into the camp where — we had left Senhor Tom. And, for two reasons, we were glad the day was ending. For one thing, the coming of the dark would lessen the chance that the people of the Bat would discover the absence of their pajé and track us. Until morning, at least, they probably would think their medicine- man was staying in his den. And we wanted plenty of time in which to make our surly captive talk. The second reason was that gloom would prevent the wizard from detecting the blind- ness of Senhor Tom. The dimness in the maloca and the bold acting of our stricken comrade had made it possible for him to deceive all the Tucunas; and, since it is always well to conceal any weakness from Indians, we did not want his condition to become known if we could help it. We in- tended to free the pajyé when we were through with him—though that might not be very soon—and the less he could tell about us, the better for us. But we gave the priest no hint that he IX ® NIGHT was almost upon us when Adventure | rs was likely to be freed, or even to live. We remembered hearing Senhor Tom say once that “the way to handle Tucunas is to treat "em rough,” and we could easily see that this sullen Tucuna wizard was not likely to respond to any other kind of treatment. So, though we laid no hand on him while we drove him on through the forest, we snarled at him now and then as if we were ready to chop him to pieces; and we forced him onward at such a pace that when we neared camp he was dripping sweat. Just out of sight of our little tambo we halted him. Leaving Pedro to guard him, I went ahead and found Senhor Tom sitting up, gun in hand, listening closely to the slight rustle we had made in approaching. As briefly as possible I told him all there was to tell. Then I built the evening fire, not too close to the hammock where the blind man sat. As it blazed up, night came. After waiting a little longer for the dark- ness to become thick in the tambo, I whis- pered to Senhor Tom. At once he barked— “Bring that dog here!”’ His voice was harsh enough to make the pajé shiver. And when that pajé came in and stopped where we told him to halt— across the fire from Senhor Tom—he was not the sneering, insolent priest of a few hours before. He stood stolidly enough, and he was sour and silent; but his pompous air was gone, and the black eyes peering through his sweat-soaked hair glanced this way and that as if he sought a line of escape. In the shadows of the tambo Senhor Tom sat straight and motionless, his face dimly lighted by the fire and hard as stonewood. _Even we, who knew his condition, could see no sign of it from where we stood; and the pajé, with sight weakened by the smoke rising before him, would have been a wizard indeed to guess that the eyes facing him saw nothing. However, he got little chance to stand and look in silence, for Tupahn the Thunderstorm opened on him. “Dog of a Tucuna,” he boomed, ‘‘where is the prisoner you took this mornmg?”’ “Tn the maloca of ——” “Do not lietome! The maloca of Andirah has been looked into. No prisoner was there. Where is that captive?” “T know not. Ask Andirah, the chief.” Senhor Tom growled disgustedly. “Vou call yourself payé? You are the wise man of the Bat people? And yet you Eomichoo (C S (EC) im