Adventure Magazine Cover — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

Yellow Treasure impression that the white stranger was laughing heartily. Then the world temporarily ceased to exist. IV ©) conviction that I was dead. For one thing, the separation of my lids admitted no slightest ray of light; for an- other thing, my bodily sensations were those of lying on a feathery cloud which was whirl- ing in a celestial wind of velocity about 6, as they say in the seamanship books; and— conclusive evidence to my hazy intellect for the first few seconds after waking—the cold nose of an animal was moving over my face. I thought it was my little dog, Tanner, who died when I was nine, and it was not until I tried to pat him and heard the unmistakable rat-like squeak the animal made as it scut- tered away, that I had any doubts as to my arrival in a better world. Then, lowering my hand again, I touched the surface of what seemed to be a scummy pool of ice- cold water. A second later, away to my right hand, I heard, above the scratching scurry of numerous rats, the sound of la- bored human breathing. “Burns!” I called, in a voice that seemed to need oiling. It hurt me to speak, and there was no answer. I lay still for a few seconds, my eyes straining upward into the absolute blackness; and then, with an effort which seemed to tear the muscles of my neck and shoulders from the bones, I tried to raise my head. It would not leave the brick floor on which I now perceived myself to be lying. Feeling around the back of my neck with sore fingers at the end of an aching arm, I found that my hair was glued to the pave- ment with the dried blood from a gash be- hind my right ear. “Burns! Burns!’’ I called again. It seemed to me that there was a slight movement over to my right; a little change in the timing of those stertorous breaths, but there was still no reply. Visions of horror flashed across my mind. I remem- bered what I had heard of the fiendish cruelty of the Chinese. I had a vision of Burns, regaining consciousness, undergoing questioning as to the whereabouts of that accursed package, being unable to give any information and being flung back into this dungeon with his tongue cut out. I OPENED my eyes with the firm 15 Disregarding the agony in neck and arms, I tore my hair free and sat up; a current of warm blood from the disturbed gash trick- ling down my: neck. The rats, frightened by my movement, filled the place with the sound of their scurryings for shelter. One of them, leaping across me, scratched my cheek with his claws, and I gave a hoarse scream of fear. “Burns!” I cried, trembling all over. This time a groan answered me—just such a groan as it seemed to my shattered im- agination might come from a dumb, empty mouth. My head hanging between my arms I crawled slowly over in the direction of the sound; a fearful journey-only possible to a man either desperate or half-conscious. I was both; but even now I can feel the newt that writhed under my fingers when they plunged into one of the puddles which were scattered over the uneven floor. It was a wide floor; I think I must have fainted once or twice before, calling out again in that far-away voice of mine, I heard. an answering croak from close at hand; and, reaching out, touched the stiff shoulder- straps of Burns’ uniform. He was lying on his side, I felt, with his head in an angle of the wall. Above him was an iron staple let into the rough stone; but no chain hung from it; he was not shackled. I shook him. “Burns!” I cried again. And, dipping my hand into the puddle which was chilling my knees, I flung dash after dash of the filthy water into his face. After a moment, he stirred and tried to sit up. ‘“‘Stink,’’ he said in a thick voice, ‘“‘where are we? Who’s swabbin’ decks?” I gave a hoarse chuckle, in which Burns, after a few seconds of fatuous consideration, joined. I have known death’s-heads to grin with more abandon than we did, but the muscular action gave us both a better mental reaction. ‘“Where are we?” asked Burns again ina more rational tone. Then there was a si- lence while each of us tried to piece together the meaningless snatches of memory that were flickering through his mind. I myself should have had a clear idea of everything, I felt sure, if only a picture of a Chinese ina blue blouse hadn’t kept flashing past my mental eye. Then there was a square of blinding sun- light that kept seeming to blot out what I COIN Clooolkks © inn