Adventure Magazine Cover — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

the prop from him ay would usurp the throne of Badakshan.” So great was the rage of Jani Beg that his hand trembled so he could scarce grip the dagger in his girdle. He raised the dagger with one hand; the other he twisted in the hair of the maiden, who looked up at him and smiled. “It is well,” I heard +her whisper. “I have made clean the honor of the Rajput. Neither I nor Shirzad Mir would have checked Jani Beg in the slaying of Krish- na Taya, but the dagger did not reach her slender throat. Sir Weyand had gripped the hand that held the weapon. For the space of a long breath the eyes of the fer- ang and the Uzbek met and held. The arms of the two quivered and strained. The lips of the ferang were closed in a tight line. Then Jani Beg spoke in level words. “Every soul in Khanjut shall die if this woman is not slain.” Sir Weyand did not relax his grip. “She avenged the wrong that was done her.” His voice was curiously strained. He turned his face to the Rajput. To a ‘Voyager - 9 ee SE Pee ee J Tie 8 A ein aS, “Krishna Taya needs the protection of the Rajputs.” Raja Man Singh sighed and twisted a strand of his curly beard. His glance went from the end of the pearl necklace that had strangled Said Afzel to the woman. “Come,” he said at length, curtly. He took the girl and lifted her to the back of his horse behind the saddle. We knew and Jani Beg knew that Krishna Taya was now safe under the sword of the Rajput. Many things were in my mind as I drove the donkeys up to Khanjut, following after Shirzad Mir and Sir Weyand. I thought of the reckless honor of Shirzad Mir that had let Jani Beg depart unharmed, because . of his pledge. I wondered whether one of us would live to tell of the Uzbek storm that would be launched upon us because Sir Weyand had guarded the life of Krish- na Taya when Jani Beg lusted for ven- geance. But among these thoughts one was uppermost. It was a verse from the Koran. Who knows what is in the heart of a woman? TO A VOYAGER by Berton Braley O YOU’RE off to storied China and to Java and Bombay And the grin upon your face is high and broad; Oh, you poor deluded mortal with your dreams of far away, Where you “hear the paces chunkin’ from Rangoon to Mandalay, ~s Do you think that I am envious and awed? Do you fancy I’m made restless by your visions of the East And your talk of sailing far across the foam? ‘' Do you look on me as jealous or affected in the least That you’re squandering your money, while my savings are increased As I labor on efficiently at home? Do you figure for a moment that the trouble and the fret Which a traveler today must undergo, All the passports and the papers and the visés you must get, And the bureaucratic satraps and officials to be met And the bothers and delays that you must know? Do you think I’d care to face them, do you somehow fancy me Bearing all such tribulations with delight? — Do you dream I’d like to follow, that I’d give my soul to be On a list of idle wasters who are putting out to sea? Do you think soP—Well, you certainly are right! Z ’ he =~ - - - aoe cae => - / i See nel ¥en? * © oe « —~r : ; > tf 0 poo OKs. S ) - < I ha : = < pire ge tA < . ‘ * = Ses