Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

By JACK OPPENHEIMER OR a long time Im Khadra had been - awaiting the angel of death to lead him to the paradise of Allah and the joys of the blessed gardens. Each morn- ing he arose and ate his scanty allowance of food. Each day he labored faithfully under the lax eyes of his guard, and each night he lay down to rest weary in body and lonely in soul. Oft in a lazy hour, he recalled thoughts of the days of his liberty. He had been a beggar, yea, a winebibber and a thorough good-for-naught. Then he would smile to himself and marvel at the wisdom of Allah, who kept him a prisoner at hard labor, so that he might expiate his sins and enter through the blessed gates when death should cure him of life. Then the great fear would come upon him that his imprisonment might not be enough to cleanse him of his grievous sins, and he would gather his fellow prisoners about him and tell them some tale. In this way he sought both to cheer a little the companions of his misfortune and to add a little to his commendations in the great book of the blessed recording angel. So it happened one evening when the sun’s last gleams were sprinkling the drab, gray sand of the prison yard with gold that Im Khadra gathered his companions about him and told them this tale of a certain youth. “ Yosuf Abram was a youth in his seven- teenth spring, which is the most glorious spring in all the seasons of a man’s life. He was tall and strong, with great shoul- ders, and a great head, crowned with raven black curly hair. At a tender age, his uncle, one Asra Muhda, had begun to in- 625 COmiclbooks 1e@)