Adventure Magazine Cover — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

64 Kneeling, one hand to her side, she fought for breath. “Look, in the pasha’s girdle—a letter there, asking that his head be sent to the court. Harm not the aga, who was sent with me—El Khadr——”’ She was silent and the janizaries glanced at one another questioningly. Their eyes fell on the treasure chests, and they fingered their weapons, knowing not what to believe. Lali’s wit served her even when her strength was failing, and for the last time she acted a part, hoping to gain respite for Demid. One of the janizaries called out that they should go for Jal-ud-deen, another that search should be made for the letter, an- other besought Demid—fruitlessly—to cast down his sword. Instead the Cossack threw back the hood of his garment, and they saw the black scalp-lock that fell to his shoulder. The pent up anger of many days of brooding blazed in his eyes, and those who beheld him thought that he was stricken with madness. The iron restraint of the long journey to Aleppo fell from him when he saw Sidi Ahmad strike Lali, and the blood was leaping in his veins as he watched his foes. “Come, dogs,’”’ he laughed, “slaves of a slave, come and take me or you will taste the stake and fire. Do you hear? [ am the Cossack who rode over you this morn- ing.” Remembrance of how he had dealt with their comrades made the guards hesitate, but they were no cowards. Spreading out, they advanced on him, and he struck the first one down. ‘Then, turning in his tracks, he sprang at those nearest the wall, warding their cuts and slashing back, hewing to the shoulder-bone the slowest of them. One of the Moslems stumbled over Lali, as they raised a shout of rage, and the point of the Cossack’s sword raked him under the eyes before Demid stepped back to the wall in the nearest corner. The gleam of steel was before his eyes, and in a second he was cut across the arm and chest. Two men were pressing him close when the others heard the thud of footsteps drawing nearer, and the war-cry of the Cossacks. “U-hal”’ It was Ayub’s bull voice. “Cut, slash, Demid! Where are you?”’ The giant ataman thrust his head through the hole in the wall and displaced a goodly Adventure quantity of bricks in getting his body through. Whipping out his broadsword, he made at the five surviving Moslems, and Michael hurried after him. Other heads appeared, and swords gleamed as the Don men came after their leaders. FAR below the halls of the Wolf’s Ear, the Cossacks worked busily to remove the pick of the treasure of Sidi Ahmad, taking first the jewels, which were thrust into saddle-bags; then the gold ornaments. Ayub, having stationed two warriors on the stair, and satisfied himself that Demid was not seriously hurt, fell to rooting out the best of the carved ivory and the silver fittings. This he did deftly enough, shaking his head with admiration at the hoard Sidi Ahmad had gathered together. 3 ‘“‘We must not fail to take off the value of ten thousand sequins,’’ Demid observed. He was leaning on his sword while Michael bound up the deep cuts about his shoulders. “Aye, the ransom of Rurik,’” nodded Ayub, intent on his task. ‘‘May I never taste mead again, if we fail. Sidi Ahmad had a tight fist, though little good it did him in the end.”’ The noise of the fight had been muffled by the depth of the secret stair and the music in the courtyard. Over their heads the Moslems sat at ease, and the astrologer still studied his chart. But presently a young warrior ran into the vault. ‘‘Father, the brothers at the horses have sent word that people have seen them, and many are crying out “4 ‘“‘To horse!’ barked Demid. that torch!” Taking the burning brand, he hurled it among the wooden boxes, and tore down the curtains, tossing them near the flames. Glancing around at the bodies of the slain, he stooped and picked up Lali. “If you must bear hence the witch,”’ grumbled Ayub, ‘‘give her to me. Your wounds will bleed overmuch.”’ The eyes of the girl opened, and the mask of pain lifted from her drawn face when Demid’s arms raised her. Her lips moved. “To Ibnol Hammamgi—ride to my people!’ she whispered. ‘‘Az-a, we have “Here with kept faith, you and I. We have ridden far COMmicloo Sj CO