Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

THE GOLD-DUST RAJAH. Lansdell had one last thing to tell him: “I’m glad of one thing. Your blood is not hers. She’s not related to you and you can’t disgrace her.” To that Wray made no reply, and a mo- ment later his white-clad legs disappeared along the bank, going with scores of others —the trousered pair which was Barker’s, the draped ones of the Malay and the bare, brown shanks of Dyaks of various ages and sizes—toward the other praus. Behind was left only Goboh, leaned against a pillar of that hut in the edge of the stream. Lansdell, hands on hips, stayed where he was, Staring at the bending bamboos under his feet. ‘‘ They say you never know any- body well,” he grumbled, “until you’ve gone camping with him. And this little jaunt into the woods has certainly made me understand our friend Wray.” He looked at Goboh, who, with his deer-horn dirk and an automatic, was evidently the sentry on guard. Lansdell addressed the man in his own tongue. ‘‘A brave man,” he said, ‘‘ does not conceal himself behind a woman's dress.”’ The Malay showed his black teeth ap- preciatively. ‘‘ To catch a shark,” he re- turned, “ the two strange lords have baited the hook with a flower.” And he nodded at the still figure in the boat. It was then that Lansdell, for the first time, noted that the Chinese was no longer aboard the prauv. As he turned to look about him, searching for the man, he heard a strange sound from the direction of the village. At first he could not make out what that sound was. But next knew it for a chorus of voices—voices old and pip- ing, voices young and shrill. The inhabitants of Moeara Koli were wailing. He burst out in English: “ What’re those devils doing? And not a man at home to put up a fight!”” He clenched his teeth and doubled his fists. __ As if he understood what was in Lans- dell’s mind, the Malay answered: “ All the strong are gone from Moeara Koli,’’ he ob- served. ‘‘ Two days more all such remain away and this excellent absence will pre- vent conflict.” Then, sniffing the air with 831 a turn of his scarlet-topped head. “ After returning, doubtless,” he added, with a sparkle in his dark eyes, ‘ the forest men will have some building to do.” Lansdell understood. ‘“ Poor things!’ he cried, again in English. ‘So that’s what they're doing, is it? No wonder the peo- ple cry!’’ Now he, too, scented that new odor which was blowing down to them off the bank. Almost at once his ears gave him added evidence of what was happening. Above that wailing, so persistent and heart-stirring, sounded a snapping and popping and whis- tling, accompanying a dull, hushing sound. The darkening sky overhead took on a sud- den flush. At least one of the long houses of the kampong was going up in flames. CHAPTER VII. UNDER MABONG’S HOUSE. ANSDELL’S hands were tied, for he LC dared not leave the unconscious girl. He shook his head and smiled rue- fully as he realized that in all probability Wray had foreseen just such a situation, and had, for that reason, urged the girl to follow Lansdell’s suggestion. “Tf anybody takes Uncle Chichester fer a simple-hearted soul, he’s wrong,” Lansdell said to himself, and acknowledged he had been outplayed. ‘‘ But what threw me off was the fact that I thought he was Marcia's uncle.” While there was still enough light, he hastily put his pistols in shape, going— Goboh at his heels—as far as his own prau to fetch oil and ammunition, after which he took the weapons apart, cleaned them and reassembled each pistol, the Malay watching with a half dubious air, but hav- ing no orders on this point, not quite dar- ing to interfere, particularly as Lansdell completely ignored him. It was dark when the girl awoke—with a start, as if coming out of a disquieting dream. ‘“ Philip!’—she knew the tall fig- ure standing against the post of the house, and reached up for his hand to help steady her as she left the boat. GIOok