Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 171: what you’re looking at

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

THE CRAWLING DEATH. be able to point the finger of. suspicion at you. Do you yet hesitate?” ‘“ Nay. Give me the stuff.” He reached for the gourd. ‘““Not so. Only a little of that do I give you.” ‘“‘ Then put some in this.” Smithers took the glass flask from his hip-pocket, drank the gin which yet re- mained in it, and handed it to the witch- doctor. Tomasi then carefully poured some of the syrup from the gourd into the flask and, corking it securely, handed it back to Smithers. “ Keep it with you,” he said, ‘‘ lest those women of yours, seeing it, are eaten. with curiosity to know of its potency. See to it that you do not fail the Spirits in this. task I have given you. Should you in any way fail, or seek in any way again to make a mock of me, your death will quickly follow. Remember!. The Spirits are all-powerful, swift to avenge insult and—I, Tomasi, am their mouthpiece. Now I go to my own cave; the morning must not find me here else, when Hampion dies, there will be some to accuse me of having killed him. So saying, Tomasi picked up his baskets and strode quickly away. Smithers watched him until he was lost to sight in the bush then, entering the hut he placed the flask carefully on the table and sat down on the trundle bed—holding his head in his hands. He shivered violently—as if with the ague of fever. Reaching under the bed he dragged out a tin chest and from it took a bottle of gin— his last one! with the butt of his revolver and drank morosely. His eyes were bloodshot; the muscles of his face twitched constantly. Time passed. The gin in the bottle low- ered steadily. There was a long period of silence—brok- en: only by gulping, swallowing noises. ‘And he’ll always have a hold on me,” he muttered after a while, giving verbal ex- pression to the thought which had been troubling him. “But if I put him out of the way to- 4 He knocked off the top of it. 633 night,” he continued, and a crafty glint gleamed. in his eyes, “no one will be: the wiser, hyenas and vultures will pick him clean before. sun-up.”’ His speech was thick; he articulated with difficulty. “Tl do-it,” he said, coming to a sudden resolve.. “I can catch up with him; he won’t be suspecting anything. ITIl show him no- blame black can threaten me. An assegai will be the best. It don’t make no noise, or break any bones.”’ He chuckled wickedly and lurched to ‘ris. feet. In a corner of the hut was a bundle of assegais—broad-bladed stabbing spears.. He took one of them and reeled toward the door. His eye caught the flask on the table. “ That’s good,” he laughed. “I'll pour some’ of the stuff on the black—” He thrushed the flask into his hip pocket, hesitated long enough for one more drink - and passed out into the night. With hurried, but uncertain, footsteps he came to where the trail led down the steep, rocky bank to the river’s ford. And there he slipped—his feet shot from under him—and, falling on his back, he slid down the bank, cursing, and clawing madly at bushes and grass in a vain attempt to check his*fall. His course was halted by the big ledge of rock from which he had shot at the bottle earlier in the day. : His head hit against the rock and lights danced before his eyes; then for a little while all was-dark. When he came: to he was conscious of a strong, pungent odor—sickening in its in- tensity:. His heart seemed to be inclosed: in an icy gtip as-he realized that his fall had smashed the flask; that his clothing was impregnated with the ointment. He tried to rise, but could not. His ankle; bis Sige something, was dislocated, Res: : Something moved on and, fe fully opening his eyes; he saw a Snatl rock python. coiled there.. He opened his: mouth to scream-—but re- mained silent; he closed his eyes, but fear ferced them open again: Slithery, crawling; sounds came to his ears; rustling noises, hisses, sounded in the (E(0) .OO AMG <S 2 ~ - x So)