Adventure Magazine Cover — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

12 himself out flat with his rifle. ‘Shoot for all you’re worth.” As Dorsay followed his example the doc- tor’s rifle spoke, and there began erratic fir- ing from the Wakikuyu behind them and down the trail, answered by a wild yell. Dorsay saw three men, one of whom he thought was his bag, tumble off their ani- mals; then a crowd of some twenty were upon them. He was conscious at the same moment of a figure with wild eyes and hair brandishing a spear, looming above him, and of a donkey braying like a Scotch la- ment over the uproar of shots and yells. He fired with his revolver and saw the fel- low throw up his hands and pitch forward. The pony swerved violently in full career. A frightened, or wounded, donkey crashed in between them, his loaded panniers knock- ing him down. As he rose on his knees to get up, slightly stunned, a gun crashed and then a loud yell from the doctor rang in his ears. Simultaneously arms seized him from be- hind and he was swung bodily across a sad- dle-bow. The rifle was wrenched from his grasp. The concussion had nearly knocked the wind out of him. His long legs were help- lessly kicking the air, and he felt the man leaning heavily over his body on to the neck, crushing his stomach on the withers of the horse as it galloped. He gripped a bare leg with his left hand and tried to heave, but he could not get a purchase. Then, pointing the revolver into the flanks of the horse, he fired. Instead of dropping the beast bounded convulsively and galloped the faster. The second time the hammer clicked, for it was the last cartridge in the chamber. - The plunge of the horse had either startled or nearly unseated the rider, freeing Dorsay’s spine for a moment, which gave him oppor- tunity to wriggle round for a hold. Dropping the useless revolver, he man- aged to grab an arm and hauled himself up into an embrace of the fellow’s neck, pre- venting the use of either gun or sword by the grip on the shoulders. Both Dorsay’s hands were too busily occupied to permit of his reaching for his other revolver. The Somali was both wiry and powerful. For some two minutes, while the horse raced madly on, Dorsay fought desperately to throw him, but the fellow had either twisted his bare right foot under the stirrup- Adventure strap, or cord, or had got a purchase of re- sistance by sticking a leg in the stirrup. Suddenly the beast dived on to its nose, throwing both of them. They fell on a patch of long grass. But Dorsay had not relaxed his hold. The fellow wriggled and squirmed like a wildcat. Then, deprived by Dorsay’s hug of the use of his arms and the sword—to which he still clung—he bit the other’s ear. Maddened by the sharp and excruciating pain, Dorsay let go and crashed his fist into the bronze face. He saw the blood spurt, but at the same time the man wriggled from his left arm’s grasp. For one moment as»he got free his back was turned. Dorsay released his hold alto- gether and leaped on to the shoulders, caught the chin in his cupped hands and jerked with all his might. The snap and collapse were almost simultaneous. Bloody and hot, Dorsay sat in the moon- light beside a dead horse shot through the lower lobe of the heart and a Somali with a broken neck, listening to the twittering murmur of Central Africa. IV Y V7 <=" RSE) DORSAY’S first instinct was to lis- AQ) ten for sounds of conflict, but, save SSS] for the shrilling of a near-by cricket, all was still. Hecouldn’t be far away, he reckoned—not more than a mile at the most. The country around was lightly tim- bered but enough to prevent one seeing very far. His ear was lacerated and smarted, but otherwise he was uninjured. The best way to get back to the scene of the fight and pick up the doctor was to fol- low the spoor of the horse. He rose and had a look at the Somali, who lay in a crumpled heap on his side with his sword like a streak of quicksilver a few feet away. He pulled the torn robes over the body and began to hunt for the spoor, wondering what had happened to the doctor. Either, he mused, the Somalis must have been beaten off immediately after that first rush or they had taken the caravan. Although the soil was soft and sandy the long grass made the hooi-marks difficult to follow, and in the moonlight the sheen of the grass after the passage of a heavy body was almost indistinguishable. Then, on a piece of stony ground, he lost the trail. He began to cast about in circles, trying to pick it up again, but the fear that if he CORMICLOOOKS ~~ . (C@