A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, February 1950 — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

head. I hoped that he was the leader of THE SMOKING LAND 41 like bad business. Murder lay down and made himself as small as possible at my feet. And I had to cheer myself up by re- membering, grimly, that I was carrying a repeating rifle! CHAPTER 12 Kine of the Goddess OW nine-tenths of my security— repeating rifle or not—slid down out of my heart and departed by way of my toes, for as though at a signal,- I saw all of those fellows plant their spears, butts down, leaving the circle of points glistening. While from their shoul- ders they unslung some very capable look- ing bows of horn. Each one looked as long as the man who carried it, and the arrows were long, too. These fellows marched on, closing up the distance evenly around me, until they were all about thirty yards away, and there they paused, twelve of them, with twelve arrows on the string, and their silence, and the bulk of them, and the way they handled those bows and arrows, made me wonder if my cuirass would -prove invulnerable now. Instead, I had used up all the time in between with the sign language. I was not exactly proficient but I knew a good deal about it from my stay in the North, and I had been chattering away with my hands as fast and hard as I could. I had been saying that I was a friend, and that I came in peace, and that I was not on the war- path, and that I was only making a pleas- ure trip, and that I was shipwrecked—I didn’t know any sign for an iceberg—and that my dog was just a pet, and so was I. But, as I said before, while I hand- talked, they kept marching, and the only gestures they made were made with bows and arrows. ; I dropped into the snow, still cursing, and leveled my rifle at the biggest of the lot. I waited, and gusted out a sigh when he suddenly lifted his right hand. The rest of the circle of bowmen low- eréd their weapons and stood by, as it were, waiting. I was pleased. I was more than pleased. But I had sense enough to keep a steady this little party, not only from his size, but also because he seemed a little more fluffy in the furs and a little more important in his attitude, There is something about the way a man wears his stomach—in or out —that tells the observer whether he’s the king or only the dishwasher. He dropped that good right hand of his and walked toward me, speaking a lan- guage that put tingles up my spine, for it was the same dialect that I had heard from the dead master of Murder. I made out that he was surprised to see me, and that he wondered from what part of the world I came, and why, above all, I had killed one of the sacred cattle, and even more than above all, he was interested in finding out where the devil I got the strange clothes I was wearing! I got up on one knee, with my rifle at ready, and with the muzzle still pointed at his breast, and in getting up, I managed to survey the rest of the circle. Every man was standing exactly where he had first taken root when my target gave the signal. He kept on advancing, and I told him as well as I could that though I revered him like a father, yes, even as an uncle, I would nevertheless and most regretfully haye to knock a hole through his brain pan if he didn’t stop. I could see that I had learned to speak quite a lot of Esquimau, because he actually came to a halt about ten steps from me. “What is your name, and from what land have you come, and which tribe of the Esquimau do you call mother?” “My name is Cassidy,” said I, “and I am the son of Mike, who was the son of Bill and the tribe I claim: as mother is the American tribe, and there are so many Americans, that when they speak together, the ocean has cold chills and runs back ten steps from the shore.” This was not a joke, apparently, in the Smoking Land. My friend of the big furs nodded his head, gravely, and he said that his name was something or other, entirely unpronounceable, and that he came from a tribe whose wise men dar- kened the sun with their incantations, and made the sea boil by blowing on it. I had to admit, to myself, that he had © out-boasted me, but aloud, I merely sug- PARI Spt Te PES :