Adventure Magazine Cover — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

for a space and several pistols barked. The balls whistled wide through the branches overhead and stirred up the pony to a smart gallop. No one gave chase because there was no other horse on the raft. In this fashion did I win free of the Dneiper outlaws, though Edwards remained a prisoner in their hands. IN THE black murk that comes be- és) fore dawn I drew up at the first post ~‘ station on the highway, not far to the south of where the raft had landed. Here I changed horses and wet my gullet with some vodka, taking likewise a saber from the keeper, who swore that no other riders had stopped at the zamora during the last half of the night. He said he thought horses had passed by, not far away, but had fancied them wild horses, out on the steppe. This surprized me, until, as the nag settled down to a steady gallop, I remem- bered that John Paul was in a strange country, knowing no word of the language. How was he to explain matters to a clown of a zamora keeper, even if he had not been closely pressed? Likewise the outlaws had not cared to delay to try to steal fresh mounts from the station. True, John Paul might have headed out into the steppe and avoided pursuit in the dark. I should have done so. But he did not know friend from foe, and doubtless chose to take his chances in a straightaway race along the road, aware that he was within a day’s ride of the Russian lines. Behind me a line of red light spread along the horizon and a wind began to breathe over the plain. Birds chirped and the sea of grass changed from gray to red-and-gold, then to brown. It glittered with the dew as if decked out in jewels. My head pained me, but such a dawn warmed my veins more than the vodka. take it all, there’s no country like the steppe! My head began to buzz all of a sudden and weakness came upon me so that I, Ivak the jightt, the outrider, the Tatar-chaser, the sotnik, gripped the saddle horn to keep from falling. Such a shame! By and by the buzzing stopped and I looked around, seeing the sun peering over the horizon, and a black browed Cossack lass staring at me from the back of a cow. She was taking cattle to pasture and by a Adventure line of great stones shaped like skulls along the highway I knew that one of the villages of my people Jay half a verst away. My horse, a big black Turani that knew a thing or two, had slowed to a walk and its ears were pricked back as if asking why in the fiend’s name I was rocking the saddle like a cradle. The maid was round-eyed as if I were a ghost, out of one of the old burial mounds that lie on the steppe under those great stones. God knows what people sleep in those mounds, but it is quite true that of nights they rise up and slip about—ghosts sure enough. To mend my dignity I called to her smartly and bade her be off to the village to round up a band of the galliards, the bravest fellows and the jzg/zts, and send them after my tracks. “Aye, Uncle,’”’ she responded, “‘but your scalp-lock is running blood e “Little sparrow,” I grunted, ‘‘what are a few drops of blood to a chap who rode from Petersburg in ten days? Nothing at all! Ill fetch you a bag of candy from Kherson if you stir your legs. Hold! Did an officer ride past in a blue coat on a roan with one white foreleg?”’ “Aye, Uncle. Two gentlemen, they were, riding a musket shot apart. One was a foreigner, the other a Russian with a wig and a red face, no taller than Iam.” She sped away toward the village, her white legs flashing under her tunic and I spurred up the Turani, cursing my broken head. By the girl’s words I recognized the officer who had been riding before us all the way. Now he was behind John Paul, and we knew what sort of cock he was. The leader of the outlaws, the officer who had bribed the zamora keeper and hired the pirates. That’s what! We sped over the level trail like a hawk and presently two riders showed up, above the grass ahead. ‘They pulled in when they heard the Turani and faced about. Drawing their blades they took stand, stir- rup to stirrup, closing the narrow way, and their horses were nearly blown. By their bearing they were outlaws of the band, and their jaws dropped when they saw my face. Afterward I remembered that they must have thought me dead, and when the big black rushed on them in the eye of the rising sun they believed a bloody specter had come up out of Father Dnieper to settle their hash. MICLOOOK C@©