Life — April 19, 1883 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

A ‘*GOATS-YOU-PLEASE” RACE. men. At length the Fakir approached me, and handing me_an opera glass of antique mould, he said in good American: ‘ The hour approaches. Are you ready? But first look down there.” He pointed to the edge of the cliff, and adjusting the lorgnette I saw in the clear moonlight, about two miles vertically below where we stood, a number of horses picketed in a small mountain ravine, while their owners sat about on the turf. ‘* In an hour,” continued the Fakir, “we must be there, Now listen! The Gaikwar has given the whole thing away. But do you see any- thing green about yours truly? Tell me ?” and he folded his arms and gazed at me with a frown. “« My conscience compels me to acknowledge that I do,” I re- lied. r He shook his head impatiently. “Tt is merely the effect of the lunar rays,” he explained. “But listen! When the Gaikwar approaches ‘the Emir, Shere li, in an easy, slouching way. and lays one hand familiarly and, as it were, quite causally on the latter's nose, that is your signal: that is, so to speak, our time for disappearing. Seize the Gaik- war firmly by the esophagus and hold him, ‘That is your part. I will do the rest. Now come.” Our descent was facilitated by an avalanche, which took our horses and ourselves kindly on its back and landed us at the very entrance of the little ravine at the exact moment when the hands of Fol-de-Rol’s three dollars and a half Waterbury watch point- ed to midnight. We approached the Gaikwar of Kooshbeghi and the Emir, who stood alone in the centre of the moonlit plot, the company of the former being seated at the distance of several rods. ** What is that dark circle outlined against the heaven ?” I en- quired of Jacobs. ‘ ‘* Hush !" he answered in the Tekke dialect, ‘* Tis the Emir's legs which are somewhat bowed, owing to the carelessness of ais nurse, who allowed him to walk too soon in his infancy. He is an excellent fellow and a good Moslem, but his legs are not pretty,” ! The two parties saluted cach briefly with the Afghan form of greeting, ** Hovwdi /” and then Jacobs handed to the Gaikwar a Certified copy of the agreement, which he at once proceeded to read, beginning in aloud voice with the words, ‘‘ This indenture witnesseth,” and then falling off into an inarticulate murmur of “ H'm—yes—Ha !" > ** The old fraud !” whispered Jacobsto me, “I know for a cer- tainty that he can’t read a word of any lan, —not even his own, to say nothing of yonder document w is written in the choicest Malagassy.” My own attention was fixed upon the nose of Shere Ali, which was so important a feature in the scene that was soon to be enacted, It was Roman in its architecture and well calculated to forma handle for the Gaikwar’s treacherous design. I also examined nervously the latter’s hands, which were those of a base-ball pitcher, curiously distorted and of enormous size. “He knows his Pappenheimer,” I thought. But what was the matter with the moon? It was violently contracting and expand- ing in a sort of systole and diastole. Fol-de-Rol’s eyes were fastened intently on the heavens, The Gaikwar now folded the deed of sale, put it in his breast pocket, and sauntering up to Shere Ali, laid his accipitral talon negligently upon. the the other's aquiline beak. In an instant I had him by the throat with both my hands—and he had me by mine. Thestruggle was short but terrific. The Gaikwar of Kooshbeghi was a Hercules (in his way), but Paul Prigs is a Sampson. We swayed to and fro, breathing heavily, Suddenly something gave. The truncated body of my foe tumbled backward on the earth; his head had come off in my hands. Meanwhile the troop of Kooshbeggars had jumped to their feet with wild yells and were bearing down upon us, when a, yery extraordinary thing occurred, A red glare, like a Bengal light, filled the heaven, slow music began to play, the troopers appeared to be standing on their heads at a great distance away, and much reduced in size. Old Fol-de-Rol waltzed about on his left ear in the immediate foreground, By a strange optical illusion Jacob’s hats were mul- tiplied to three, as in the device upon his mystic scutcheon. And then amid loud cries of ‘* La—illah—Allah ! Me—illa—illud— Vishu ! Siva ! and the strains of Roman and Otaheitan love songs, suddenly the Curtain, Henry A Beers A BLACK bare—a Hottentot. Acatnst the grain—rust and rats. A miss-F1t—hysterics. First aid to the Injuns—red blankets, fire-water, and a missionary. “Wuart is so rare as a day in June?” and then, a day in April is decidedly underdone, and some of the March days are really raw. Well, now . comicbooks.com