Adventure Magazine Cover — page 176: what you’re looking at

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

166 in the direction of the castle, he dismounted, tethered his horse and slipped into the jun- gle mesh. Passing silently through a bam- boo thicket—no easy feat—he parted a dense mass of junipers and stepped out into a cleared space that seemed to have for its center a square black hole.. ‘Here Hossein was very careful to give the cry of an owl, repeating it after an in- terval of silence. Advancing with more assurance, he stepped out upon what ap- peared to be the square cavity. Here a flight of steps led down and Hossein disap- peared from view. The hole was, in fact, an empty tank, or well, built after the fashion of Hindustan with stone platforsms a little way down and recesses opening into the platforms. : Here the wives and daughters and servants of a raja aforetime had cooled themselves dur- ing the stress of a hot season. But the sand- stone walls of the tank were now dry and overgrown with weeds. A snake crawled away unseen by the boy. Coming upon the lower platform, he turned into a recess. Here a ray of light flashed into his face and a man peered at him. Hossein passed the sentinel and ad- vanced along a stone corridor into a small chamber lighted by a single lantern set with red and green bull’s-eyes of glass. “Tala,” he whispered almost noiselessly. ‘Peace be with thee, Hossein,” a low voice answered. The youth stooped to peer at the form of a girl upon a divan against the wall. Costly Persian rugs and silk brocade covered the ‘stone floor under the divan. A tabouret containing fruit and fresh water stood by it. The lantern hanging from the ceiling was so arranged as to cast its glow on the pas- sage way rather than the curtained recess where the woman rested. But Hossein’s sharp glance distinguished a pallid brow, circled by heavy, black hair, and black eyes that returned his stare dully. There was something languid and indo- lent in the aspect of Tala stretched on the silks of the divan; there was indifference and lack of purpose in the slow movements of her eyes. Her face, under the kohl and crimson stain, was lax. Yet it was young and wist- ful. “Allah be good to thee,” whispered the youth fervently, glancing anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke. “Thy beauty is Adventure like the moon and thy lips are flower petals. Happy the man who owns them!” Tala stirred as if trying to arouse herself to consciousness of something forgotten. “Why am I kept waiting? When will I go forth from here, Hossein?” ‘Soon, soon.” “Sometimes I walk on the bottom of the tank and see the stars, Hossein.”’ ‘Thine eyes outshine the stars, Tala, lit- tle flower—delight of my life.”’ She put out her thin hand and touched his tunic and the heart of the-thug swelled within his chest. “Once, Hossein, I thought I heard my father speak—far above. He was crying pardon to Nag for killing a snake that had come out of the tank. Why are there snakes here, and why does not my father, Rawul Singh, come down? He isa brave man.” Hossein moved uneasily, dragging his eyes from the girl’s face. ‘“‘No one comes where the snakes are, Tala. Soon, inshallah, you will go up to your father. But do not talk of that to him’’—Hossein motioned along the pas-- sage—‘‘who is yonder.” Lightly he touched the girl’s hand and was gone. But at the curtain at the end of the passage his swagger left him and he hesitated, feeling the chit that he grasped in . his hand. ‘Enter, Hossein,” came a voice from be- hind the curtain. | The youth stepped into a poorly lighted chamber in which the air was very stale and cool. This was of more recent construc- tion than the tank or the recess that was Tala’s abode. Sun-dried brick formed the walls, which were bare. A pallet and table occupied one corner and by the table squatted a hunched figure of a man who smoked a hookah. Into the mobile, handsome face of Hos- sein came a look of great respect. The man on the rug lifted a hairless face the color of old ivory. His mouth was a slit, and his eyes were very large and prominent. He held out his hand, Hossein placed in it the letter that had been written by Mal-. colm. Although the light from the single candle was dim, the man on the rug seemed to have no difficulty in reading the message. His face did not change as he laid it aside. ‘You had no trouble?” he asked in Turki. “No, jemadar, not at all. Warning COmiclbook CO