Adventure Magazine Cover — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

154 broke the spell with an uplifted hand, at which all of the men sighed loudly. The beater withheld the bamboo. “Will you write?” Toyotama asked. ‘“‘And promise to speak no word?” “T will—speak no word,” Clark gasped. ‘‘None would—believe—that there are such beasts. But—I will—not write.” The burly priest shifted his position to Clark’s side, and, at a signal from Toyo- tama, began again. The blows, light as summer rain, powerless as the first, fell across the puffed flesh at right angles, bring- ing a spot of pain where the two crossed that was (Clark thought) intolerable and not to be long borne. At the intersection a tiny drop of blood showed, but nowhere else was the skin broken. The white man writhed, tore dreadfully at the hands which bound hin, forgetful of everything save the horrible pain. ‘Soon he will remember nothing save that he must escape from the torture,’ Toyotama whispered hoarsely. ‘Then he will write. Is it not well done?”’ It was well done. Up—down—up—down; always gently, softly. As soft and muffled to the ear as the far distant bell of the Buddhist temple to which, for a minute, the muscular priest slowed his blows to keep time. Soft, as Toyotama said, as the drop of petals to a paved pool. vat of the Sun contemplatively. “That ' priest,” he said aloud,. “needs no furte to announce his coming and going. His feet are as heavy as Uzume’s dancing in the rock cave. “‘Do these children of mine think I do not know the temple yard was empty? And that I was watched? Am I grown so old as that? Well, O goddess, it seems as if the Thousand Words must remain un- uttered, for—”’ heavily—‘‘T believe I have other and more important employment ahead. It comes to my mind that these boys, being infants, so to speak, are either on their way to the housé of my friend C’ark-san, or, if they have rushed there quickly, are on the return path, with an extra member to the party whose kimono is not black. I believe, O goddess, that I will go and meet them, if you will permit me to have them recite the Thousand Words a hundred times each as penance for Ma THE abbot looked up at Nishi-rin Adventure my having omitted almost all of them.” He rose to his feet slowly, stepped out and into the hot empty courtyard and gingerly across the burning flagstones. “T should be in my room in comfort,”’ he thought sadly. “If C’ark-san meditates at this moment no better than I, we are advancing little enough in our purpose.”’ As he crossed the templeyard he added— “Yet I feel certain, through divination that C’ark-san is at this instant calling upon his gods for assistance.”’ In this last he was correct. “Why can not these priests be content with the beauty of our temple and garden?” he asked a stone lantern. ‘Look at the entrancing loveliness of that three-branched pine, exactly like the character for heaven! and the curve of that pool’s shore; hai! the labor that there was in making it, when I was a boy. Iam too easy with these rascals. And that flash of sapphire and emerald of the kingfisher’s wing—where is the jewel to match it?” He reached a tiny shrine near the gate, drew a red candle from the sleeve of his kimono, broke a short piece from it, pressed the end upon a nailstand, returning the larger piece for future use; bent, drew in his breath, rose, clapped three times, turned to the left and repeated the devotion, clapping, squatting, until he had circled the shrine. Abstractedly he continued his musing as he passed beneath the great gate: “Do these babes of mine understand the long, sweeping curve of these hedges? Never in the world. To them it is shrub and branch and leaf, but I know better; I see the ceaseless care that has brought it to the perfection that it is. The cropping and tending of a Master Gardener, until the bushes no longer grow, but stay in the proper shape. It is very beautiful and green—and peaceful—a perfect thing in an imperfect world—and—” stooping to pick up several broken leaves— ‘‘these priests pluck off the leaves as they pass, and litter the walk with them—ho!—” a pace for- ward—“‘here are more—I intend speaking of this. I do indeed. I must retain the evidence, or they will claim I saw what was not. “Into my sleeve with them—mah! but they are sharp! They scratch and I am too old for unnecessary discomfort. I shall place them beneath the hedge, and mark the spot with a white pebble or two.” COmiclboook (©