Adventure Magazine Cover — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

When the Rain Was Red it the smoke of forest fires from the north on one of the higher strata of theair, placing, it seemed, a veil of gold over a sun that shone like incandescent copper. On the smoke-burdened breeze came also the drum- ming of warriors’ shields and the wailing song of the Matabele, who, in answer to the King’s signal, were marching in from all directions to the royal kraal. As each new column arrived a song of war and praise rose {rom those who had already gathered. All seemed to be in high spirits, for was not the drought to be broken, now that the uninjured lion was to be delivered to the priests who made the rain? The Rainmak- ers themselves did not betray any facial evidences of the anticipatory happiness of the populace. ‘‘Rain! Rain! Rain!” was cried on every side, -and every time the word was uttered the scowl on the faces of the Rainmakers grew deeper. It was a barbarously gorgeous spectacle, this gathering of the Matabele. Warriors whose towering ostrich-plumed head-dresses danced in the wind like a storm-tossed forest stood in a huge soldierly circle around the kraal, each with his red and white ox-hide shield beside him and his polished spear in his hand. At their elbows and knees hung tassels of silky hair, while on their shoulders, like a lion’s mane, rested an ostrich-feather cape. From their waists hung leopard, lion and monkey tails in a profusion of dull but contrasting color. The chiefs who stood at the head of their regiments used leopard- skin decorations and wore a strip of otter skin which supported gracefully curved crane-feathers tied around their heads above the eyes. They stood at attention, big, muscular, ideal warriors, conscious of their physical grandeur, under the admiring eyes of the non-fighting part of the race. From the outside of the kraal rose the cry, ‘‘TheInsukamena! The Insukamena! They come, our preservers, they come!” Inside the kraal the cry was taken up, running from mouth to mouth with the roar of a torrent. The Insukamena entered the kraal and their ranks opened, revealing half a dozen slaves carrying a pole to which was bound the lion. Ata signal the circle of warriors with a cadenced cry of welcome raised their shields and beat them with the butts of their spears, making the noise of rolling thunder. With bent shoulders and worried faces the Rainmakers looked on the lion and then at the big red sun that glared smile in abundance upon us! 861 mercilessly through the smoke-yellowed air. One by one they took their charms and fetishes and slipped to a secluded part of the kraal, where they held a hurried council. The captured lion was placed in the great human circle lined with a cordon of warriors six deep. Suddenly, through the gaps that separated each two companies of warriors, broke a host of young and graceful girls, unclad but for the strips of brilliantly col- ored calicos that hung half to the knees from a cord that caught them at the hips. As they formed a ring around the helpless lion the warriors set up a low musical: chant, bringing their right feet down in a measured beat on the ground. Round and round the lion in wild abandon the nympbh-like maidens danced in an ecstasy of physical delight, showing their white teeth in smiles, swinging their arms, and throwing their lithe bodies backward and forward in grace- ful contortions. All at once the girls left as quickly as they had come and their places were taken by warriors who gave their war-dance and the song of their exploits in battle, thrusting their spears down every time they spoke of an enemy’s death, to which the surrounding braves cried of one accord, “Jee/” Asa warrior became fatigued his place was taken by another, and so the dance went on for an hour. A signal stopped the dance, and the King, dressed in beautiful ostrich feathers and monkey skins, majestic and powerful, danced into the center of the circle. In his hand he held an assegai which he hurled toward the lion. As he did so the warriors struck their shields with their assegais and rushed for- ward, retiring when he recovered his wea- pon. He then regarded his warriors with the proud eye of ownership, throwing a challenge into the eyes of warrior, chief and Rainmaker at a glance. “Fellow Matabele! Warrior Matabele, hear me!” he cried in a thunderous but clear voice. ‘‘ You are here to feast, for the Rainmakers shall make rain; the rivers shail run; the grass shall grow and the land that has withered in despair shall once more The Rain- makers asked the impossible—that a lion, full-grown and uninjured, be delivered into their hands so that they could call upon the heavens to have mercy on our cattle, our people, our slaves, and our country. At last they have the right medicine and we cComicbook (©