Adventure, December 1914 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

64 gentleman. It was only human to connect the Princess and her maid together in one comprehensive loathing, and to forget for the moment that the maid had fallen vic- tim to Andry’s gargoyle charms—that she loved the huge man—and that she had al- ready given proof of her devotion. “‘She’s helped us, Mr. Dicky, an’ she'll help again. We ought to send a mon to keep in touch wi’ her—some lad wi’ brains, who’d spy an’ run messages.” “No,” said Dick, smiling as he mentally compared the gnarled hard-bitten six-feet five beside him with the little French maid’s inches. He was no ladies’ man, whatever Andry might be. “If she loves you, she'll prove it. She’ll either come to you or send a message. We'll put her affections to the test. Get your gun away!” ‘“‘Na-na! She’s affectionate enough!”’ the giant grumbled. ‘‘She’s no at a’ like the Jezebel her mistress!” “Did you hear my order?” ‘Ay! Stan’ by y’r traces, there! hold!” Sixty tired men sprang from the ground to do his bidding instantly, and Dick rode on to where all the Russian reserve ammu- nition lay piled on commissariat-wagons, horsed from the stables of Russian officers. “Forward!” he ordered, pointing to the hills; and the cavalcade began to move. We Usbeg Ali swallowed his own thoughts of plunder and forced Dick’s will on men whose ideal might be Persia liberated, but whose immediate yearning, like his own, was for the loot in Astrabad bazaars. His especial choice would have been leave to sack the treasury, and it went hard with him to turn his back on the thirty-foot-high wall that frowned less than two miles away; yet it seemed to him that there was too much of the hand of Allah in Dick’s destiny for him to forget discipline and glut his own desire. “Bismillah”? he muttered in his beard. ‘The fellow strokes his stubborn chin, looks up once to heaven, and then knows what to do! I tell tales of him that I invented and the tales prove true ones! I prophesy about him, and the prophecies come true! Who am IJ, that I should doubt the hand of Allah! Nay—I am a soldier, and I have my orders!”’ He rode like a thunderbolt, once up and Tak’ AT THE far end of the other wing Adventure once again down the line, shouting for close order; and since close order presaged move- ment of some kind they obeyed him readily enough. “Loot!” they began to murmur. “Lead us to the loot!”’ ‘Persians!’ he thundered at them. ‘Who is afraid?’’ No Persian ever will admit he is afraid, until he thinks that he will gain by the admission. No one answered him. They all grinned. ‘“‘Has not every word of mine come true? Said I not that this Dee-k-Anthonee is the Great Iskander born again at Allah’s bid- ding? Is he not? Said I not that he carries in his fist the Great Iskander’s sword? Does he not? Saw any—ever— such a sword, with such a jewel in its hilt? Said I not that Cossacks would melt away before him as sheep before a wolf? And did they not? Where are the Cossacks? Run they not yonder? Saw any of you— or your fathers—ever—Cossacks running away before? Who is afraid to follow to another, greater victory?” They looked from left to right, and from right to left again. They looked behind them, to where their dead and wounded lay in a little cluster; and they looked in front, at the Russian dead and wounded scattered about the plain—twenty or thirty to their one. Away to their right, behind them, they could see Dick Anthony lead off in the direction of the hills, and it seemed to them that they were being offered choice between obedience and whatever its oppo- site might prove to be. A company commander—one of Usbeg Ali’s seven loyal Afghans—sensed the inde- cision and gave tongue to his own thought on the matter. “Zindabad Dee-k-Anthonee Shah!” yelled. That yell brought memories of black nights in the mountains, when they had chosen Dick by acclamation as their leader, had sworn obedience to him, and had learned from him a little of the naked hon- esty that was his creed. Not even the East forgets so suddenly its oath of loyalty or the memories rekindled by a rallying- cr he “Zindabad Dee-k-Anthonee Shah!” they chorused; and from Dick’s contingent in the distance came an echoing shout, yelled at the limit of enthusiastic lungs. Where cComicloool< C@