Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

aT4 The latter rode the high-mettled black Arab horse on which he always accompanied his master outdoors, sit- ting the magnificent beast with royal dignity as the prisoners were halted before him. “Abou Koi, ruler of Zem-Zem, greets thee through my unworthy lips,” said Hazoor gravely, bending a calm, impassive look on the captives. “‘ He bids me draw thy attention to the hon- or which is done thee, for thy end shall be worthy of thy country and thy rank, © white men!” A fierce, derisive shout went up from the nearest warriors, echoed by those behind until jeers and laughter filled the hot, quivering air. Abou Koi imperiously signaled once more, and the gorgeous procession moved forward, each man tossing his spear high in the air and catching it as it fell; all laughing, swaying, shout- ing in a frenzy of excitement. Durning and Cardell tramped in the dust of this cavalcade between the camels and Abou Koi, whose palanquin was borne by stalwart negroes. They went in silence, blinded by the desert glare and choked by the dust. Past endless upthrust spines of black rock, and over wind-tossed ridges, they toiled, their loosened muscles betraying them at every step—on, on over the -burning sands, until they reached a vast natural amphitheater encircled by crested dunes. The warriors made a great ring about the place, while Abou Koi, with two of the negroes and the prisoners, occupied the stage itself. The slaves were armed with huge shovels, and they began to dig two pits in the center of the amphithea- ter. The bandaged stumps of Abou Koi’s hands beat an impatient tattoo on his brocaded knee, and Hazoor dismount- ed and bent his stately head to catch the husky whisper of the voice, which disease often rendered inaudible save to his own keen and faithful ears, » ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Dig deep—dig deep, O slaves!” _Hazoor interpreted his master’s faint hissing whisper in the ringing voice of authority. ‘‘ These be tall dogs of un- believers. Dig deep!” It was much too horrible and fantas- tic to seem anything but a nightmare to the Americans, as they waited, reel- ing with faintness on the burning sands. But when they were seized, pushed down into the holes feet first, and the heavy sand was shoveled in upon them, the real agony of death touched them with icy fingers. In a short time the sand was about their shoulders, and the slaves were trampling it hard and firm about their necks. Cardell kept his eyes on the big black feet that moved before him, with their flexible toes and the silver anklets jingling about the legs. He counted the toes on one foot and then on the other, until the whole world seemed reduced to a colossal pair of black feet, trampling—trampling—trampling him into hell. io Rising to his feet, Abou Koi made frantic efforts to issue an order to the slaves, but his voice broke on a horrible gurgling choke, and Hazoor hastily went to his assistance. Aiter admin- istering some drug, the latter once more inclined his ear to learn his master’s commands; then, salaaming deeply, the councilor set an ominous metal casket on the sand close by the palanquins. “ Make now the path of sweetness, slaves!’ said Hazoor to the waiting negroes. “ Let it be straight and true as the sword of Abou Koi, that death may not turn aside from the white dogs.” | The slaves brought long-necked jars of honey, and after smearing the heads and faces of both prisoners with the sticky fluid, they ran out two Iong lines of it over the sand—the two lines which led from the buried men to the metal box by the palanquin. Gomichbook (C@)