Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

THE CARAVAN tower. It would cut us off. Our only chance is a surprise sally.” ‘“ T understand.” “During the fighting we might ie away. Edith, I will not throw aside your chance.” Her eyes held his. He could see every shade of expression in her eager face by the glare below. And he saw no fear— only pride and urgent need. ‘Donovan Khan, you told me that the Sayaks would continue to storm the kur- gan until they are utterly cut to pieces.” She did not wait for his answer. “ We can save the lives of a hundred men. _ And then Yahka Arik—” Edith sighed. “I am thinking of the women of Yahka Arik.” He stared at her, reading the decision engraved in her splendid face. ‘We can save them, Dono-van Khan, perhaps. Now, hurry.” The girl gave him a little push as a second volley—harm- less as the first—came from the scattered muskets of the oncoming natives. ‘“ Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter—you and I. We will have each other; they can’t change that, now, can they?”’ Donovan had seen men before now fling their bodies into the face of death. It was something of a miracle to him, this settled purpose of the girl at his side. He rose, with a laugh that had much gladness in it. “ By Jove! You are playing the game, Edith.” Another might have said more. Dono- van, once convinced, was a man of action. He cupped his hands to his mouth and faced the gloom of the plateau in which he could now make out the Sayaks, not a hun- dred yards away. “Tskander, son of Tahir!” His shout rang out clearly over the bustle below and the confused sounds from the near-by na- tives. ‘ Go back!” He had spoken in Turki. Men stared up from the courtyard at the tower in as- tonishment. Hands were withdrawn from rifles. Monsey seemed turned to a graven image of attention. Donovan continued: “ Iskanker, Dono-van Khan is speaking. A trap has been set. Twice your numbers are in the kurgan, with magazine rifles.” OF THE DEAD 267 Crack—crack! Monsey’s revolver spat at the tower summit, the bullets thudding into the beams overhead. Edith fancied that the Sayaks had halted. Donovan paid no attention to the shots. ‘Ware the ditch!” he shouted in the silence that now held the castle. “It is dug out and staked, in front of you!” A pause, in which Edith strained her ears. Then came Iskander’s answering hail out of the dark: ‘“ Dono-van Khan, I hear.” In response to a command the girl could not distinguish the forms of the Sayaks be- gan to melt back into the rocks and trees. As if to confirm the warning, a heavy vol- ley burst from the wall of the castle—too late, now, to do serious harm. Confused firing was kept up by Monsey’s men, who seemed to have been startled by the voice from the tower and were emptying their weapons across the plateau. Faintly Edith heard the Arab’s second hail. ‘‘T hear—and will not forget—” CHAPTER XXXIV. THE VOICE OF MAHMOUD. AS Donovan had anticipated, and as might have been expected, the first rush of Monsey’s men toward the hold, and the ladder leading to the tower, was with- out result, except for certain casualties among the attackers. Aravang, standing over the aperture in the floor through which the ladder led, was armed only with a short wood pole. But with this weapon—which, indeed, the kul favored over others—he sent the first two or three who ventured up the ladder back with broken heads. Donovan, climbing alertly down the stairs from above, seconded his effort with the clip of cartridges in the Mauser rifle— five shots that drove the attackers back, dragging their wounded, from the ladder and the lower room. ‘* Ah, that was well, excellency!” grunt- ed the burly native, leaning on his staff. The reflected light from the courtyard served to reveal the two men and the wo- man to each other dimly. NOOK C@