Adventure Magazine Cover — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

862 shall have the promised rain. If they can not make rain, they have for years imposed upon us. What is the fate of a false priest?” “Death!” cried ten thousand voices. ‘“‘Death!”? answered the King. “If the priests do not rescue our land with white rain, I shall become priest and king, and at my command it shall even rain red, and red rain shall free the land of its curse forever!” HE TURNED to the Rainmakers ‘“Come! make a wet sky of that and show how truly great you are, O holy men! Come into the circle; your King commands you!”’ he cried as the priests did not show any great activ- ity in coming forward. At last all the Rainmakers stood inside the circle and Lobengula commanded them to commence their incantations and succeed in bringing rain. ‘The chief Rainmaker started to object: “We shall have to get some other medi- cine, for the lion alone will not suffice. We need & ‘““Hold!”’ cried the King in a voice of anger. “You need nothing; you want time! Tell us now when we can have rain! Now! At once! Or as impostors die!’ ‘“‘T can not!” cried the head priest. ‘To- morrow . “Then die!’? answered the King, as he buried his assegai in the priest’s heart. ‘‘Where are our friends?”’ cried the Rain- makers. Halfa dozen chiefs ran out, calling their regiments to protect the Rainmakers. A moment later fifty men who were under the priests’ influence fell pierced by the spears of the loyal warriors. Then commenced a scene that would have made a setting for some mighty opera. All it needed was a master singer. Lobengula with his tossing ostrich plumes, trembling in every muscle under the excitement of his terrible anger, glistening with perspiration, darted with the agility of a faun from place to place in the circle of warriors, calling Adventure upon them for loyalty and support and cursing the false Rainmakers who had an- gered heaven by their impostures. In the flowery and picturesque language of the Matabele he chanted his indictment of the priests who had deceived them, giving them false happiness. Under the influence of his oratory the warriors commenced to tremble. They followed his every movement with their eyes. Physically and mentally they were under the domination of Lobengula. The priests saw that they were doomed, that their power had been destroyed, and they turned their eyes toward the big red sun that rolled toward the horizon. The King approached them. ‘O Rain- makers!”’ he cried, pointing with his spear to the west, ‘‘when the red eye of heaven closes, you shall die if you do not bring relief!” All eyes turned quickly to the setting sun, which they gazed on in silence. Down be- hind the hills it fell out of sight, leaving a red glow behind it. The King raised his hands high in the air and cried, ‘‘Death to the false priests!” And, as one, the populace answered, ‘“‘ Death!” ‘““Now, I shall be a true Rainmaker and it shall rain red!” cried the King. On a command the executioners rushed into the circle and seized the priests. Then they stabbed them with assegais and held them high in the air on their points till they bled to death over the lion. “‘T promised you red rain. The curse is washed out of our land! Henceforth I shall be your king and your priest, O Matabele! Have I spoken true? Am [I not the King of Kings?” Down on their faces like worshipers fell the thousands, crying: ““Thou hast, O Black- est One! Thou hast, O Black Elephant! Thou hast, O Conqueror! O son of the Black Cow, thou art our King, our Priest!”’ With a look of triumph, towering over the chanting, prostrate hosts as night fell on the land, stood Lobengula, the Church and State of the Matabele. C© MICLOOKS CO