Adventure Magazine Cover — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

~~ 6 *‘Singe the goose, singe the goose!”’ several began to cry. Clad only in his shirt, the unfortunate orderly was whirled about until he was dizzy; then he was knocked down into the embers of the largest fire. Shouts of laugh- ter greeted his efforts to scramble out of ‘the hot coals, and an odor of burning skin was perceptible. His shirt-tails blazing, and his beard smoking, the messenger howled and tried to run toward the door, but his dizziness drove him against the walls in- stead, until Togrukh thrust him through the open portal into the snow. Then, followed by the loud good wishes of ‘the sick and disabled, the Don warriors tramped out, some to go for arquebuses, some to stack lances in the stables and rub down the shaggy ponies, but all with an eye to where, in the center of the muster ground, the dark figures of the patrols off duty were gathered around certain great kegs standing in the snow close to the red glow of the bonfire. | IN. THE log chapel where lighted ies candles stood under the painted pic- tures of Christ and Mary, the de- liberations of the council had come to an end. The score of gray-haired warriors had laid aside their tall kalpacks, the black Cossack hats with red tops, and stood, in stained ermine coats, and costly sable cloaks about an open grave, dug in front of the altar. They looked at one another questioning, the steam of their breathing rising in the cold air. In a rough coffin on which rested his square cap and gold-embroidered stole, lay the body of the batko, the priest of the Cossack camp, and they were wondering in what manner they should bury the holy man who had so often performed the cere- mony for their brethren but now was past doing it for himself. “It is well,” spoke up one ataman,” that the good father should be planted here. This, sir brothers, was his camp and from it he sallied forth whenever the drums rolled for battle.”’ With that, several, led by the judge and the scribe of the camp, laid hold of the box and lowered it into the grave. Then they drew back and others came forward with shovels to fill in the grave to the level of the earthen floor. “A thousand fiends fly away with you!’ Adventure remonstrated Ayub. ‘“‘Would you plant the batko without prayer or bell?” ‘Do you manage the prayer. You were ever glib with your tongue.” Ayub glanced around uneasily, and was greeted with a murmur of assent. His broad face grew red with the unaccustomed effort of thought, and, mechanically, he unsheathed the broadsword, to lean on its hand-guard. The other Cossacks waited hopefully with bowed heads. All at once the big warrior cleared his throat and raised his eyes. “O Father and Son-in Heaven,” he began in his deep voice, “this batko of ours was a good comrade. He never took another man’s bread or silver and-what he had of his he gave with an open hand so that now, when he has turned up his toes, we had to bury him in a winding-sheet made of a Turkish turban cloth, so little had he in the world.” The judge medaed: his eyes closed, as if he himself could: not: eye expressed the matter better. “This batko of ours;’ went on Ayub, ‘had a hardy soul. at I never taste corn- brandy again if it didn’t stick to his body all the time he was walking back to his com- rades, after the Turks had sliced his feet. And now, sir brothers, it has taken wings, this soul of our comrade and it has gone to sing before the seat of the Mother of God, and we will never hear him shout—U-ha again. No, he will never ride forth with us again.” He paused to lift his hand. “Tf he could talk to us now, sir brothers, what would he say? Not a word of himself. But he would point to the holy images that have not a garment to their backs, or a candle to burn before them. That is what he would do. And what is our answer?” The elders who were not quick-witted, looked up expectantly. “Why, we will go down the path of the batko, that bloody path. And for each drop of blood upon it we will cut down a Moslem; we will carry the sword across the Black Sea, and bring back silver and gold for this altar. May the fiend take me, if we don’t.” ‘“‘Glory be to the Father and Son!” cried one of the warriors. “For the ages of ages!” While earth was being thrown on the coffin some one remembered the bell and COMIG HOO Sj (©