Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

Murkwood Spears of High Tower streamed out behind their leader. From the slope of the castle hill they could see, still an arrow-flight beyond the Sollett, a single flame dancing slowly toward them. Nearer now it flared red at the edges; but as they clanked and clattered forward, it wa- vered and stopped. “On them before thev scatter!’ Gislac cried, and the men of High Tower drove home the spurs. Their long lances lowered, they swept down toward the river. There was no time to pick the ford; thev rode straight in, up to the stirrups, up to the knees. They were past now, scrambling up the soft bank, gath- ering momentum for the final charge. The light was right before them. In its ravs they could see a knot of blurred figures. An arrow hummed past, a second, and a horse shrieked in pain. “Ride them down!”’ Gislac’s voice sang loud and mellow like a silver trumpet. The long spears flashed in. With an oath he who held the light flung it to the ground, where it spat red coals. But the horsemen had closed in too swiftly. Four of the lances plowed through helpless flesh, while five baffled riders wheeled to search out those who had found hiding in the dark. is) horse, snatched up the smoldering torch and swung it briskly about his head. In amoment the fat wood caught again and burst into crackling flame. Shouts rang on the night. Like pouncing hawks, the riders pounded in pursuit of the fleeing prowlers. The plain was bare, devoid of cover, save for a single clump of willows. Gerard cried out in a view-halloo as the dark forms of run- ning men scuttled toward the clump. But the pursuers could see only what the irregular circle of light around Gerard’s torch threw into relief against the night. Beyond that all was blank, blind. Three more of the pursued had been overtaken during that first flash of renewed brightness, but the rest were now somewhere beyond it, scattered like partridges in the murky gloom. Again came the twang of a bow-string, and Gerard cursed with sudden fierceness. The torch fell from his hand as he slid out of the saddle. Sir Giles himself picked it up GERARD flung himself from his 15 and rode for the clump of willows. They who had fled beyond it were free from pursuit, cloaked by the night. But the pelting storm of three-foot shafts that burst from the cover of the trees showed that the fiercer spirits hoped to repel the horsemen and finish their mysterious errand. An arrow glanced from Gislac’s helmet with a ring of metal; others sang past him. He alone was exposed; the torchlight showed him up perfectly against the dark. His trained men-at-arms strung out fan- wise on each side of him, closing in—them- selves screened by the night—on the unseen bowmen in the grove. The fan-like charge opened into a horseshoe, the horseshoe into a circle, enclosing the grove completely. Till the ring of men and horses was com- plete, the blind had hunted the blind, save that every man in Gislac’s troop knew that plain as he knew his own ten fingers. Now, converging in upon the trees and the skulk- ing archers behind them; each rider spurred toward them as straight as a sword cuts. Then it opened up suddenly before them. They cast their long lances down, swords were drawn, while the riders swiftly nar- rowed the closing circle. A few footsteps scuttered away between the horses, but most of the enemy were in the trap. They had hoped to make their position good, but they had not known the terrible sureness of Gis- lac’s veteran cavalry. “Close!” Sir Giles ordered. alive!”’ The horsemen drew in, beating the branches with their swords. A horse shied, a blob against the blackness shot under its belly, and its rider stabbed down with his point. A groan answered the thrust; the horse collapsed above its slayer, ripped from side to side. This was toomuch. With one accord the men of High Tower dismounted, and beat steadily through the willows on foot. Only Sir Giles remained on horseback. He raised the torch high, throwing its glare full against the trees. Every branch, every twig stood out, for the grove was small. Black figures and white faces sprang into sudden relief. Sullenly the captives came out of hiding, helpless to skulk or resist fur- ther. They were rangy men in close breeches and coarse jerkins of skin, unar- mored and armed only with knives, having cast away their bows. They had not come for nor expected a fight. The .horsemen “Take them cComicbhook C©