Adventure, December 1914 — page 205: what you’re looking at

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

The Sinews of War Mosque, I knew, there must be a street which would take me back toward the new town. I sprinted across the square at top speed, straining through the darkness to see where this street broke through the shouldering walls of the Mosque and the near-by buildings. But in my hurry I forgot to allow for the curb which surrounded the fountain; my foot was caught and I pitched headlong into the gutter. By blind luck I clung to my stick, and I was on my feet again in a sec- ond but little the worse for the spill. It was too late to run on, though. The first of my assailants was already on me—a lean, brawny fellow of the town riffraff, a hybrid of every race in the Balkans, with a long, curve-bladed knife flashing in his hand. As he came up he made a dart for me, bending low to rush my guard; but I cut him across the wrist and knocked his knife across the open space. This gave me opportunity to get my back to the fountain, and a lightning summary of the situation. On the heels of the first ruffian had pelted three others; and they came up more warily, circling around for an opening or to tempt me away from my position. The first man nursed his wrist and cursed; then, when he saw his mates closing in, ran over and picked up his knife. But he had to hold it in his left hand. In my hip pocket was an automatic pistol; but the instant I tried to get it out they divined my purpose and made a con- certed rush which kept both my hands busy. I swung my heavy stick with all the fencing skill I possessed, and at first beat them back. But while three of them held me in play from the front, the one whose wrist I had lamed crept up from the side and all but hamstrung me. I avoided him by a quick leap, and gave him a smash on the head that put him definitely out of the fighting. As a result the others became more cau- tious. They pressed me closely all the time, _ so that I might have no chance to draw my pistol, and they began to push me back to- ward where their comrade lay, evidently hoping to trip me up over his body. But I saw their plan and tried to fight it off. Once I made a short dash at them, but they coun- tered so skilfully that one actually. slashed my coat sleeve to ribbons, and I barely got my back against the fountain in time. By now, too, I was winded from the ex- 203 treme physical exertion required to face the onslaught of-all three at once. I began to realize that it was only a question of min- utes before they would wear me down. Desperately I tried to press the fight to them; but they were clever enough to re- treat before me, always endeavoring to en- tice me from my vantage point against the fountain so that they might attack me front and rear, in which case my resistance would soon be ended. I became so tired that I could barely swing my stick. My last hope was gone. The only thought I had was to force the ruffians to the bitter end, and if possible, kill one of them. Up to this time I had husbanded my breath. Now I called for help as loudly as I could, not really expecting an answer, but in hopes that it might fright- en my assailants. I had not called three times, though, when my cry was echoed from the crooked lane out of which the assassins had chased me. My ear caught the sound of running feet, and an instant later came a shrill cry: . “The gendarmes! The gendarmes!”’ erie) THE three scoundrels who were cir- cling around me hesitated only a moment. Then, without a glance at their unconscious comrade, they disappeared in the shadows of the Mosque and the noise of their fleeing footsteps died away in the night. Breathless and exhausted, I started forward to meet my rescuers, expecting to see some of the gendarmerie. Imagine my surprise when a woman ran out into the square and stood looking about her. A pis- tol flashed in one hand. ‘“Where are you?”’ she cried. Dan Blair?” “T’m here,’ I answered, stepping out of “‘Where is the shadow of the fountain. ‘“‘Who are youe”’ ‘“Héléne von Anhalt,” she answered. “Did you What’s that?” She had almost stumbled over the body of the assassin whom I had disabled. “Only one of my new friends,” I said. “Well, Countess, this is getting to be mo- notonous.”’ She paid no attention to me. Instead she pulled a tiny electric flashlight from some pocket of her wrap and examined the man’s face. “T never saw him before,”’ she said. “But he could only have been hired by one man.” DOOK (C©