A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, February 1950 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

80 A, MERRITT’S FANTASY away white Esquimaux had been so filled with fear of what might come on him from the north that he had chosen to go out and freeze to death in the blizzard because he dared not interrupt his flight. He must have felt that the very devils were riding the air! ““What’s the next step?” I asked Dar- rell, “The next step,” said he, “is to make sure that we're properly armed.” “T have a rifle and a revolver,” said I. “And here’s Murder, who'll fight a man and tear his throat as well as the next one!” He looked at the dog with an apprais- ing eye. “Murder may be a help,” said he. “But your own rifle and the revolver will be more.” “Haven't they any weapons like these?” said I. “No.’”’ “With all their brains, couldn’t they copy a revolver or a rifle?” “They could, of course, but they don’t want to have such things lying about. They prefer to defend themselves by elec- tric devices such as I was telling you about, ot with bombs. They have explosives that will do a good job of tearing down moun- tains. Oh, they’re a bad lot, but they’ve never dared to have modern weapons ly- ing about. They turn out a few arquebuses and such old stuff for their guards, and the people on the outside generally hunt with bows and arrows—you've seen the big bone bows, made like the old English longbows, As it happens, that rifle and revolver will probably give us a fighting chance. It would have been quite hope- less without them.” “Ts it going to be a matter of fighting our way through?” I asked him. “Only for a short brush,” said he, “Tf it's a long fight, of course we're done for. It’s almost inconceivable to me that we can get out of the mountain without some sort of a fight. Everything is guarded to the hilt!” “Well,” said I, “I’d rather die fight- ing than under torture !’’ “And that’s the only alternative,” said We looked at one another then, and I know that I was pleased to be tackling the great adventure with Darrell beside me. He would not fail when the pinch came. He smiled and nodded a bit as though he approved of me, too. But in his smile there was a little frank amuse- men—I suppose I was making a horribly resolute face, “And what first?” said I, “My room,” he answered, “then Sylvia ... and then wings!” CHAPTER 24 Like a Cat in the Dark E WENT to his room by a way that surprised me. Only once we took one of the great corridors which ran like roadbeds through the mountain. This we crossed, and the rest of the time we were walking in narrow little bylanes that climbed up and de- scended and twisted this way and that. As we were going down this strange secret passage my friend switched out the powerful little light which he carried in his hand, and the next minute I saw a starry radiance just in front of us, which blotted out in the next instant. I stood close to Darrell and heard his whisper, ‘‘That’s bad!” “T can send Murder down that alley and finish whoever it is,” I said, “Oh, no!” said Darrell. We stood still. Murder rubbed his massive shoulder against my knees, as though to tell me that he was at hand, and ready. And then something rustled close to us. At the same instant, Darrell switched on his light again and showed me one of the tugliest sights I’ve ever known—the form of a man_ leaping through the air with a knife in his left hand, driving it straight at Darrell’s breast. And his dark face was contorted with devilish fear and rage and cruelty. How could he have leaped so soon? He could not have jumped in the dark, and there had hardly been enough time from the snapping on of Darrell’s light to the instant when I saw him making his spring. Not even Murder had time to make a counter leap when the hand of the assas- sin struck right into the breast of Dar- rell. The long knife blade went to pieces like glass, and the fragments shivered down in a rain on the floor as the point of SM ED ae et