Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

Ic j —— jeLat ard. This created no suspicion, ree-lance soldiers, a all over India, flocked to a force that was known to be massed for the purpose of loot. It was an easy service; little dis- cipline, a regular Moslem fighting horde, holding little in revecence but the daily prayer and the trim of a spear, or the edge of a sword. Amir Khan was the law, the army regulation, the one thing to obey. «As to the matter of prayers, for those who were not followers of the Prophet, who carried no little prayer carpet to kneel upon, face to Mecca, there was, it being a Rajput town, the always shrine of Shiva and his elephant-headed son, Ganesh, to receive obeisance from the Hindus. And those who had come as players, wrestlers, were wel- comed joyously, for, there being no imme- diate matter of a raid and throat-cutting, and little of disciplinary duties, time hung heavy on the hands of these grown-up children. Hunsa was remembered by several of the Pindaris as having ridden with them before: and he also had suffered an apos- tasy of faith, for he now swore by the beard of the Prophet, and turned out at the call of the muezzin, and testified to the fact that there was but one god—Allah. And he had known his Amir Khan well when he had told the Dewan that the fierce Pindari was gentle enough when it came to a matter of feminine beauty, for Bootea made an impression. Of course, it would have taken a more obdurate male than Amir Khan not to ap- preciate the exquisite charm of the Gulab; no art could have equaled the inherent pa- trician simplicity and sweetness of her every thought and action. Perhaps her de- termination to ingratiate herself into the good graces of the chief was intensified, brought to a finer perfection, by the motive that had really instigated her to accept this terrible mission, her love for the Eng- lishman, Barlow. Of course, this was not an unusual thing; few women have lived who are not capable adventurous spirits, sibl whispered into her being. — And she danced divinely- proper word for it. Her dancir revelation to Amir Khan, who | hi nautchnis go through their sensuous, Sug gestive, voluptuous twistings of SUD forms, disfigured by excessive decoratior , bangles, anklets, nose rings, high-colored swirling robes, and with voices worn to a rasping timbre that shrilled rather than sang the ghazal (love song) as they gy- rated. But here was something different. Bootea’s art was the art that was taught princesses in the palaces of the Rajput rajahs, not the bidding of a courtesan for the desire of a man. Her dress was a float- ing cloud of gauzy muslin, and her sole evi- dent adornment the ruby-headed gold snake-bracelet, the iron band of widow- hood being concealed higher on her arm. Some intuition had taught the girl that this mode would give rise in the warrior’s heart to a feeling of respectful liking; it had al- ways been that way with real men where she was concerned. When Amir Khan passed an order that Bootea was to be treated as a queen, his officers smiled in their heavy black beards and whispered that his two wives would yet be hand-maidens to a third, the favorite. Hunsa saw all this, for he was the one that often carried a message to the Gulab that her presence was desired in the palace. But there were always others there, the players and musicians—those who played the guitar and the violin—and the officers. Hunsa was getting impatient. Every time he looked at the handsome, black- bearded head of the warrior he was like a covetous thief gazing upon a diamond neck- lace that is almost within his grasp. He had come there to kill him and delay was dangerous. He had been warned by tl Be ieytah Dewan that they sus lew. m / = comicbo oks.com —