Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 193: what you’re looking at

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

The Story of William Hyde basket and go with it to the Dobo at once. Yes; at once, my Raj, for we have no time to lose.” CHAPTER XXVII HOW HYDE SAW THAT WHICH WAS ABROAD IN THE NIGHT E CAME out to the right-hand en- trance, my wife and I; and, just as on the night prior, in my belt was that long .38 on its .45-frame, and under my left arm was that basket containing the Green, Green God. Outside, with tropic swiftness, night had shut down upon the Jallan Batoe, as if in fancy, some great peacock, perched upon a jagged tooth of the rim of ‘the crater far a above, had spread of a sudden its wings over all. And velvety purple as a peacock’s breast was that vast O of sky overhead. I led the way. And I led the way not by the circuitous route we had pursued the night before. I was determined now to make a quick and bold try at returning the Green, Green God. Wherefore, I led the way straight down the Avenue of Palms, under shadow of those palms on the one hand and under shadow of the stones and growths on the other. Though I knew, for a certainty, that the Poonan did not know as yet that the God was gone from the Dobo, yet my nerves were drawn to such a tension by the events which had occurred that day and the night before, that I often fancied now I saw and heard strange things in the purple dark. It seemed to me, as we passed close by open cultivated fields, that everywhere among the growths were there eyes watch- ing me; it seemed to me that dark shapes flitted to either side of us, beneath the shadows of the palms, and concealed them- selves behind the trunks; and once I caught the sound of a crackling leaf, as if, indeed, some one prowling in the dark, had stepped upon that leaf. But without any real mis- adventure, we put the Elephant Stone far behind us. . And now, quick rising, a scared-looking moon sailed over the wall of the crater. In a trice, thereupon, the Jallan Batoe be- came almost as light as day. The Avenue of Palms lay white as a ribbon of silver ahead, and ahead, at its end, uprose before us the tremendous shape of the half horse, half woman of the Stone Dodo. IQI But the Stone Dobo did not glow with that incandescent brightness lent by many torches flickering inside. There were no torches flickering inside. Inside, within its white, white stone walls and paneled doors, there was only Plutonian gloom. And still, withal, that Stone Dobo looked coldly white and sublime; for bathed in the effulgence of the moon, as it was, its white stone shape in that luster, was like an eminence robed in snow. The half horse, half woman, so marvelously carved, seemed almost alive. long curved stony lips of that woman seemed to be smiling a smile as mysterious and inscrutable as that of the Sphinx. Now before that huge cave-temple was a broad open space of avenue, bathed in moonlight, and sweeping up to that great flight of stairs, which were as a white cas- cade in the moonwash. I had halted in the shadow of a palm near the very end of the line of palms; I wanted to gather myself ere making a dash across that open moon-swept space. And now, as I waited, crept to my side my bride, Golden Feather of Flame. “The Dobo is dark within,” she whispered. “That is well. There is no one inside. And we will soon be inside, my Raj. We will rid ourselves soon of that which is in the basket, and then we will be at ease. But let us not pause; let us go boldly on. Everything de- pends on the next few minutes.” Her words were heartening words to me; for if she, who was as brave as she was beau- tiful, thought nothing of the breathless dash we should have to make across that open moon-washed space, there surely seemed no reason why I should hesitate. I freshened my grip on the basket under my arm, on that revolver in my belt; then on toward the end of the line of palms and that open sweep beyond, I started. aa <" WELL, as I did, on the sudden, from behind one of the few remaining palms, stepped out a woman dressed in a fawn-colored leopard skin, spotted with black mottlings, and clinging so tightly to her feline form that it seemed sewn upon her. Against that moon-washed back- ground of stone and avenue, she stood mo- tionless, distinct as a statue carved in onyx, her hair rippling blue-black about her shoul- ders, her eyes dark and lustrous, and her face white in the moonlight, so that it. seemed of a ghastly pallor. Lip-Plak- Indeed, in that luster, the — GComichoo (E @® cS) (E(@)