Adventure Magazine Cover — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

696 the Devil, and the St. George is yours for nothing.” “Holy St. John of Rylo, traveler! I must go and fix up some things in the inn—ex- cuse me!”’ “Tf you don’t, Stanko,’’—Selim ignored his remark,—“‘if you don’t help, your inn will be accursed from this day forth and forever more; for the Devil damns every spot that he lays his head upon!” “Good Lord and Virgin Mary have mercy on our souls! What do you want me to do, kind brother of the Archdeacon?” “Talk about something else, and get me some strong hempen rope and a dish of red pepper. Then, when I try to bind him, if he should put up a fight, you just throw the red pepper in his eyes and my zaptieh will be on hand to give him all he wants. And listen, innkeeper,’—Selim spoke aloud for effect—“‘get me some cucumber pickles while you are about it.” ‘“‘In a second, traveler. mercy!’ Stanko answered. A raucous voice from the barber chair scolded at the apprentice: “Steady, you green-haired little monkey, steady! What do you think you are about —plucking a rooster or sheep-shearing? Just dare scratch me, and I'll skin your hide for you!” And then, as Stanko returned: “Innkeeper, you've got to do it yourself! I am not going to let that puppy scratch at my face another minute!” “There, there, customer,” the innkeeper answered; “he is doing his best. I can’t shave you myself, because my right thumb is sore. Ivan, don’t you cut the customer, else Ill pack you off to your father again!” Selim Effendi barely glanced at the sple- netic city man in the barber chair. But the Effendi’s eyes were fixed on the nap- ping priest, who was beginning to get rest- less. It was not a mere matter of overpower- ing him; that was easy enough, with Osman on hand. But Selim Effendi wished to cap- ture his man and get away without any one’s being the wiser. He had reasons for moving in the dark. His very expedition to Livady, undertaken as it was without Enver Pasha’s knowledge, was a plain breach of Tetino police regulations, which only a spectacular move—like walking in the konak first thing Wednesday morning with the Apostle tied and bound—could atone for. Moreover, Selim did not know the polit- ical leanings of his superstitious innkeeper, The Lord have Adventure or, for that matter, of the city man in tke chair. It was safer to make an ally of Stanko in a holy war against the Devil than risk having him as an enemy in a plot to catch the Apostle. Once he had his man tied and helpless, he could afford to assert his police authority. Before the napping man in cassock had had a chance to realize what was happening, one quick blow on the part of Osman had pinned him to the divan and, while the inn- keeper dashed a handful of red pepper into his face, Selim Effendi bound him hand and foot with his long rope. At the cry of the prisoner, the city man in the chair made a sudden jerk, and the apprentice almost slashed off his ear. Ivan had overheard part of his master’s conversation with the ikon- dealer, which partly accounted for his nerv- ousness, for the lad was as superstitious as his master. The city man did not interfere. It would have done no good anyway; he was alone against a lot of religious fanatics. Or did he have reasons of his own for not caring to mix in? In Macedonia people often have reasons for minding their own business. ‘““Now hurry up!”’ he snapped at the ap- prentice. ‘Do you think I am going to camp in this chair? ’Tend to your shaving!”’ ‘Na 2dravie, sir, good-luck to you!” mur- mured Ivan the apprentice as he wiped his customer’s neck with a hot towel. ‘I don’t mean any harm, sir, but one gets nervous sometimes.” The shaved man tossed a piaster on the chair and turned toward the other side of the room. It was a spectacle. The man in cassock was on the floor, sneezing and cursing in his impotence. The three men laughed deri- sively at him. Ivan looked from a distance; the Devil had terrors for his superstitious heart even when a captive. “‘Here, lad!” Selim cried to the appren- tice. “‘Don’t be afraid—he can’t bite you now. Pull his beard, and see it come off! If you pull it loose, you'll marry into a rich family.” Ivan approached, hesitated a moment, then made for the man on the floor, and the next moment the impetus of his own lurch backwards sent him toppling over, with the mass of hair in his hands. The prisoner’s face was smooth; there was barely one day’s growth of beard on it. ““Ha!” Selim exclaimed, “there we have COMmMiCLoookkS. GO