Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 146 No. 4 — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

- mm ¥y 7 4 |" a “2 He crashed down. A knife clashed on _ the stone beside his ear, but already his long arms were busy. He jerked one man over his head, heaved, twisted himself. He pulled clear, rolled over, and leaped to his feet in time to meet the rush of the man in the black burnoose. Spence drove his fist into the misshapen features, and the man reeled away. At this instant the consulate negro dashed up, scimitar bared. A dozen other men con- verged on the scene. ‘The two assassins paused not, but took to their heels, with a crowd streaming after them. Two minutes later, Patrick Spence was safe in the con- sulate. He told Dr. Shaw of the incident, but the worthy divine related it to Holden in the light of an attempted robbery. Shaw feared lest the consul forbid the journey as too dangerous, and was taking no chances. So the matter was passed off without great com- ment. That night the safe conduct having been provided, Dr. Shaw and Patrick Spence packed up. The consul provided them with letters of credit upon a Jew of Mequinez, while Shaw lingered lovingly over his rapier, maps and instruments—particularly the latter. “ This brass quadrant,” he discoursed, “ I had from Mr. Professor Bradley at Wan- stead. It is so well graduated that I can even distinguish the division upon the limb to at least one-twelfth part of a degree. And this compass hati the needle well touched—” The good divine seemed quite oblivious to the fact that he was entering an almost unknown land, measuring wits against the most unscrupulous man of the age. Yet Dr. Shaw, as Spence knew well, was a shrewd comrade, reliable to the full, and quite able to use his sword as effectively as ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Spahis knelt at prayer, their forms glittering in the new ce sores a CHAPTER III. “He cheats the stars, and they him, and both cheat fools; ’ tis all one to me!”™ PENCE, with the leather box sewn in canvas and lashed at his saddle, rode westward with his friend and their es- cort. He was agreeably amazed by the ease and comfort of their journey, which followed the Chelif Valley road to Arzew. Under the auspices of the swaggering Spahis, the guest house in each town was commandeered. In order to avoid the war zone about Oran, the route lay from Arzew to Tlemcen, thence to Fez by the ancient route of caravans and armies. On the morning of the day they neared Arzew, Mulai Ali joined them. He rode toward their party, superbly mounted on a white Arab bearing the circle-bar brand of the Beni Rashid tribe. He was dressed in the richest of pale green and pink silks. From the gold-twisted fillet at his brow to the red Moroccan boots, he looked the chief- tain. He was alone. “ Well met, sevores!” He greeted Spence and Dr. Shaw m Spanish, * All is safe?” “ All is safe,” said Spence, knowing that the query referred to the leather box. “ You ride like a king,” said the divine, perplexed, “ yet we thought to find you in danger and disguised! What means it, Mulai Ali?” “A good omen!” The Moor laughed. “ Ripperda has not yet rejoined the army before Oran. Hassan Bey has made me wel- come at Arzew. Before Ripperda learns I am there, I shall be gone. After leaving Arzew we must push hard for the south.” » “Then,” said Dr. Shaw, “you aim to enter Morocco by the back door 06 the throne while Rigpentteas, cir , cx.