Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

The Snow Driver ‘Durforth handed the savage his dirk and Shatong crept nearer the girl. Thorne rose to his knees, taking the crossbow from Kyrger, but uttered a stifled exclamation of astonishment. Shatong had thrust the weapon under his own gaunt ribs. Or so it seemed. His two hands gripped the hilt and blood ran down upon his apron. The blade of the dirk had disappeared. Presently the shaman drew it forth, stained with blood, and screamed. Joan hid her face in her hands. Durforth, chin on hand, seemed un- moved; but his eyes were intent. Mean- while Shatong took up his journey to the presence of Erlik. He went through the motions of leaping over mountains and stag- gering through the sands of a desert; then he walked forward gingerly swaying from side to side. Kyrger knew that the spirit of the wizard was moving over the single hair that bridges the abyss between the land of the living and the abode of the dead souls. He watched Shatong cringe back as if at the gate of Erlik’s domain—heard the snarl- ing chorus of welcome from the dogs of the underworld—saw Shatong driven back by a gust of wind, then approach fearfully the seat of Erlik, represented by the fire. The chorus of animal cries grew louder, though Shatong’s lips did not move. Invisi- ble wings beat overhead, and Kyrger’s skin grew cold. He knew what would follow. Shatong lifted his hands to his lips as if drinking the welcoming cup, and fell down in a huddle on the trampled snow. His dark skin glistened with sweat. At this moment his kam was listening to the words of Erlik. He bounded to his feet and pointed to- ward the trees where Thorne and Kyrger were hidden. “Winged creatures can not fly hither; things with bones can not come; how have you made your way to my abode?” Staggering, he laid his hand on his chest. “TY have ridden far, my strength fails; I have faced great terrors, and I am hungry.” So saying, he advanced on Joan who drew back, half faint with fear. Grasping the fur surcoat at her throat, he jerked it away and bared a white shoulder with his claw. His teeth snapped and his lips writhed as he drew nearer the girl’s arm. Kyrger sat up on his haunches with a grunt of dismay. Shatong, he saw, had prevailed, because now, without any effort to draw o7 back his companion, the white man, was running toward his enemies. THORNE at first had taken up the gy Crossbow; but the wavering fire light ¢. Wand the numbness in his fingers fade the risk too great for a shot. More- over, to kill Shatong would not free Joan. As he plodded forward through the snow she saw him and cried out clearly: “Get you hence, Master Ralph. They lie in wait for you.’ At this the skaman released her and turned to his men, saying something in a low voice. To Durforth he added triumphantly: “Tilt khel mkholas—my soul looked into the hiding place of this enemy. My soul summoned him forth from the hiding place.” Durfcerth, who did not know that the sharp eyes of the wizard had picked out the armiger on the ridge, was more than a little startled. Whether or no Shatong had planned his ritual of the drum and the spirit visit to hearten himself or to bring the out- lander forth would be difficult to say. Because his limbs were stiff with cold Thorne moved slowly, and Durforth at first did not recognize the gaunt figure in the wolfskin hcod and jacket. And the newcomer, instead of putting hand to sword or approaching Joan, went to the fire and stretched out his hands, first taking the mittens off, to warm them at the blaze. “T give you greetings, Master Durforth,”’ he said quietly. The voice and the smile that accompanied it banished the last-doubt in the mind of Philip’s agent. “Slay me this man,” he said to Shatong, after a long breath of hesitation. “I will give the price of five deerskins to the one whe takes his life with the first arrow,” he added when the shaman made no response. But Shatong was squatting again on his white horsehide mumbling to himself. And the six natives had eyes only for the wizard. If Thorne had rushed at them, or shouted or drawn his weapon they would have stretched him in the snow at once. Mean- while Shatong had arrived at a decision; his slits of eyes glimmered at the white men and he gabbled at Durforth. “I am very weary with the long journey to the Erlik-hall. My ears are filled with the beating cf spreading wings. Lo, one of the wings veils the moon; the other hides GomiGcdoo ©