Adventure Magazine Cover — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

Forbidden Treasure isn’t there something in those words that sends the goose-flesh over you? No place - of repentance for these poor chaps, you see. Every word they uttered in petition for pardon simply added to the original sin! That’s what I call a subtle refinement in the way of curses!” “Then very likely,” said Berwind, “ that is why they tolled their bell with such regularity, morning and evening through the centuries, and cut the words into their bell. It was the only way they dared to pray, poor devils! Well, they were heard, I hope. Certainly all their calamities and superstitions and horrors are wiped out at last, in that poor little dead bit of deformity that lies in the church down yonder.” ‘Now this next line,” said Stuart. “‘Aedes —yes, that is aedes. And del—del—, can you make it out?” : ‘‘Deleatur,” said Berwind, puzzling, ‘“‘isn’t it? Yes, those were the words that struck us so particularly—‘let his habita- tion be made desolate!’”’ “That would be the Vatna,” answered Stuart slowly. ‘The moon-country, with its dead craters and silent stretches of ice.” Berwind jerked his head toward the tower above them. ‘Or even the empty pile of stones up there,’ he said, ‘where that poor little wretch died all alone. What a death—and what a life, Stuart! A kind of everlasting coventry. Fancy the family life that has gone on there, from generation to generation! Yet never one of those un- lucky men, so long as he had a straight back, but could find a woman ready to share his unhappiness for the sake of being his wife!”? For an instant a curious shade passed over Berwind’s dark face and Mark’s thoughts flew back to his fanciful imagin- ings of the night before. “Well,” Berwind caught himself up with a determined cheerfulness, ‘‘the point is, Stuart, that your clever idea of the bell has established the truth of the story in two particulars; so very probably the third——” “The treasure!’’ cried Stuart. “Yes, that is all very well—but look here, just try to read it, if you can!”’ Berwind bent with searching finger and — eye over the roughened surface of the bell, chased, like an Egyptian tablet, with a wilderness of undecipherable inscription. His disappointment showed itself in the slow shaking of his head. ‘That is what 839 I call tough luck,” he said slowly. “Yes, the Latin dedication, of course, was carved in Italy, and the Latin words of the curses were taken straight out of the Olafsens’ breviary. But when they came to the Original narrative, of course, they cut it in their own tongue. It is not modern Ice- landic either, I can tell you that much.” He leaned to study the unknown characters afresh. “Just look here, Stuart. What do you think of that? A man with a child on his shoulder?” Stuart took a look, and then his hand closed on his friend’s shoulder, excitedly. “You remember Madame Haldr’s tale of last night,” he said quickly, “of the two that came ashore from the treasure ship alive? ”’ “The monkey! right! Look again. You can see the tail, the long tail curved like the loop of an S!” Stuart drew breath. ‘‘Good heavens, Berwind, suppose it’s all true?” CHAPTER X AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION BE ORE he could answer, Mr. Lee came back excitedly. He dropped into a chair, put on his glasses and clawed the bell toward him in one movement. “We made out some of the Latin,” said Stuart modestly. ‘But the rest of it : “It’s Gothic!”’ sighed Mr. Lee, like a man who has finished dinner. “It’s Gothic!” His face was serene and yet filled with excitement. The ardor of the archeologist was upon him. “It’s taken years, years,” he said, peering close, “to cut this. Two letters a day would be as much as a man could do with such tools as he evidently had.” Berwind glanced up with sudden serious- ness. ‘‘Then what they took so much labor to record,” he said, “should be of great value in itself, should it not?” “Tf it should be the history of the treas- ure we heard of last night,” responded Mr. Lee with the stately smile which occasion- ally lit his querulous features, ‘then I con- dition my friends for one chalice out of the treasure when we find it. Otherwise, I consider myself in your debt, Mr. Stuart, for affording me the rare pleasure of inspect- ing these inscriptions. It will take me some time, I am afraid. This Gothic seems COmiclbook Yes, by Jove, you’re CO