Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 128: what you’re looking at

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

126 preventing the mob from swarming behind the scenes. The lama seemed to have disap- peared, and Ommony felt a sudden, sicken- ing conviction that the old man and his chela were only fair-weather intriguers after all.- But suddenly the mob grew quiet— seemed to hold its breath. The lama’s voice, not very loud, but unmistakable and pitched like a mountaineer’s to carry against wind and through all other sounds, was holding their attention from behind the footlights. Then Samding passed across the stage and slipped in front of the curtain; he had changed into that ivory-white costume in which he had received Prabhu Singh, and was smiling as if the prospect of a battle royal pleased him. Ommony went to the edge of the curtain to watch, holding Diana’s collar, ready to loose her in defense of the lama in case of need. | “Bring out the Bhat!” yelled some one. There was a chorus of supporting shouts, but that was the last of the noise. The mob grew still again, spellbound by curiosity. Samding took the center of the stage and the lama squatted down beside him, eyes half closed, apparently in meditation. The chela spoke, and his voice held a note of appeal that aimed straight at the heart of simplicity. “O people, if ye have been wronged, it is we ourselves who first should put the mat- ter right. Ye, being pious, unoffending people, will accord us that privilege. We ask no trial. That is unnecessary. Which among you are the individuals who have suffered at our hands? Unwittingly, it may be we have done you harm. You will agree it is the injured ones to whom redress is due. Let the injured stand forth. Let him, who of his own body or possessions has suffered harm at our hands, step forth and name his own terms of settlement.” He dared to pause for thirty seconds, while the mob glared, each expecting some one else to hurl an accusation. But the original instigators of violence are careful to keep out of reach when the trouble begins, and there was no spokesman ready with a definite accusation—nothing but a dis- gusting smell of sweat, a sea of eyes, and a hissing of indrawn breath. The lama whispered, not moving his head, and the chela continued: “It is possible the injured are not here. Adventure Let some one bring the men for whose injury we are in any way responsible!”’ There was another pause, during which the lama got up and walked meditatively toward the edge of the curtain, where he came face to face with Ommony. ‘““My son, can you act the Bhat as well as you can the saddiu?” he enquired. ‘Other- wise, escape while there is opportunity! Be wise. There is no wisdom in attempting what you can not do.”’ “Yes, I can act the Bhat,’ said Ommony. His jaws were set. He had been a last- ditched fighter all his life. Of all things in the world, he most loved standing by his friends with all resources and every faculty in an extremity. The lama returned to the chela’s side, whispered and squatted down. The chela went on speaking: “It may be ye have been misguided. There are always unwise men who seek to stir up indignation for their own obscure advantage. Are there any Brahmans in your midst?” There was only one possible answer to that question. No “twice-born” would risk personal defilement by mingling with such a mob of “untouchables.” <A laugh with a suggestion of a sneer in it rippled across the sea of upturned faces. “It would seem then that the Brahmans have sent you to pass judgment on a Bhat, who is one of their own fraternity,” said the chela calmly. “It appears they trust you to conduct investigation for them. That is a very high compliment from Brahmans, isn’t it? If they are willing to accept your judgment on such an important point, who are we that we should not abide by it? The Bhat shall give you his own account of himself. Henceforth ye may say to the Brahmans that they are no longer the sole judges of their own cause.” There was a laugh—a laugh of sheer de- light that grew into a good-tempered roar. There was doubtless not a member of the mob who had not suffered scores of times from the blight of Brahman _insolence. The Brahman’s claim to be a caste apart and an unindictable offense forever, soothes their own self-righteousness but does not exactly make them popular. ‘I pray you to be seated,”’ said the chela; and after a few moments’ hesitation the mob sat down on the floor, first in dozens, then in droves. CoOMmicbook A) © =