Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

Om inclination that forewarns a man of some- thing that his eyes can not see. He spoke first, purposely in English, hoping to catch the chela off guard: “Maitraya has suggested that those young women who are with the party are your wives. That seems improbable. Tell me the truth about it.” If eyes mean anything, the chela under- stood. If eyes tell the truth, he was laughing. No muscle of his face moved. He pretended to assume that the words were some form of greeting, and answered in kind, in Tibetan, then broke into Urdu: ‘“‘Tsiang Samdup sends a blessing. He is unwilling that you should speak of what occurred this morning.” “You mean of the performance of the dog?”’ asked Ommony, hardly succeeding in pretending to the chela that he really thought that was the meaning, but trying to look stupid. | ‘But the chela appeared to be an expert in dealing with stupidity. “Of anything that occurred.” -Ommony chose another angle of assault: ‘Whatever the holy lama wishes. Kindly tell himso. As long as I am his guest, I will be silent. Wait!” The chela had started to go, but Ommony stepped between him and the door and stood with his back to it. : “Don’t be alarmed.” But the chela had only retreated a pace or two. Excepting that, he seemed hardly more than curious to know what would happen next. It was Ommony who felt uncomfortable. “I want you to tell me,” he said, ‘‘whether : it was Tsiang Samdup or some one else who educated you and those young women.” The chela, still standing erect did not answer. “Come on, tell me. There must be some one else besides the lama.”’ “Ts that why you stand between me and the door?” the chela asked. The voice was ironic—amused. - Ommony tried emphasis: “I won’t let you go until you answer a few questions. Tell me——” _ But the chela had already gone. He had crossed the room in three strides, laid a hand on the window ledge, and vaulted through, tucking his legs up neatly under his chin and landing almost noiselessly on the veranda. He contrived the whole 107 swift maneuver without a moment’s loss of dignity, and walked away unruffled, not glancing behind him. Ommony strode to the window, feeling cheap, wishing he had gone about things differently; he supposed it would take an interminable time now to establish himself in the chela’s confidence; he had possibly totally ruined his chance of doing that. The chela was sure to go straight to the lama and tell him. But there stood the lama, in the midst of the group of actors, with Samding already beside him; and apparently Samding was talking about the play to Maitraya. The lama seemed to be encouraging Dawa Tsering to rehearse his lines. They did not glance in Ommony’s direction. But a minute or two later a Tibetan came and unlocked the door, and when Ommony stepped out under the veranda the lama turned and beckoned to him. However, the lama had nothing to say. He led the entire troupe at once toward the elephant stalls, down a gangway between two of the big beasts, whom he saluted in passing as if they were human beings, and through a gate at the rear into an alley fifty yards long. The alley seemed to have been used as a sheep corral the preceding night; there were some loose boards that probably served to enclose it. Across its end ran a Street, in which a dozen or more nondescript humans lounged in front of back doors. It was a back street; all the houses faced the other way, their rears an irregular jumble of yards and walls, with empty kerosene cans, rubbish heaps and faded cotton purdahs* much in evidence. The lama led straight across the street into a doorway, and down a long passage that admitted to the wings of a fair-sized _ theatre, almost modern in some of its details. Some one had been busy, for the stage was set. A hideous backdrop had been almost concealed by branches up-ended, that gave a very good suggestion of a clump of trees; and in front of those, in mid-stage, was a wickerwork affair covered with cotton cloth that had been painted to look like the stone work of an old well; a beam with a rope thrown over it, supported on two uprights completed the illusion well enough. The flies had been very simply *Purdah—curtain, veil; any kind of screen. Women who keep out of sight of men are known as purdah-nashin. Comicbook (© 5}