Adventure Magazine Cover — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

A Son of Strife perfect Nubian servant. From the slope of the hill came a chorus of shouts and the clacking of hoofs. ‘“‘Come!”’ said Matteo. They left the shelter of the olives just as a knight and six men-at-arms dashed into the road. “Hold, there!’ shouted the knight rough- ly. ‘Who are you?” “T am the son of Messer Gui de Taberie.”’ ‘The lord of Nerak! And what have you been doing, young sir?” “We have been hunting hares, messer.”’ “Saw you a desperate varlet that crossed the road some time since?”’ ‘“‘Aye, messer,”’ answered Matteo more or less truthfully, “he was running for the desert.” “YT give you thanks,” replied the knight courteously, now quite satisfied. ‘I pray you commend me to your father.” He called up his men-at-arms, and they tore away across-country, their heavy horses making hard going of the cluttered hillsides. Matteo watched them out of sight. “How, now?” he said to Kafur, who had stood by throughout the conversation, with an air of stupid-amazement. “T shall be on my way again, lord, with a sure chance of escape, thanks to you,” re- turned the man. ‘“‘And you will do no harm to any in these parts?” pressed Matteo. “Indeed, lord,” replied the fellow ear- nestly, “‘my lord would be friends with your people, but the Templars say him nay.”’ “Of that I know nothing,” answered Matteo. “I saved you because I thought vou had an honest face. Here is your ring.” He took it from his pouch and extended it to Kafur, but the man drew back. “No, lord, keep it,” he said with a mys- terious smile. ‘‘Perchance, some day ’twill be useful to you.” “Useful?” said Matteo. ‘‘How?” “Ask your father of the Lord of Death,” rejoined Kafur, and without another word he set off at a swift run in a direction diag- onal to that he had been following. % MATTEO watched the odd black (>) figure dwindle across the hillsides, and then twisted the ring he had slipped on his finger. It was made of massy silver and bore the device of a hand clutching three knives all set in the one hilt. 63 “Strange,” he muttered to himself. “Well, ’tis a fair exchange. The fellow hath made off with my hare.” He rode on, but turned instantly as a thin cry reached his ears. ‘‘Ho, there, messer!”’ Across the fields came a coal-black Arab pony. Astride of it was a slender figure in brown jerkin and breeches, red-gold hair blowing free in the wind, hands firm on the bit. Behind lumbered a boy of Matteo’s age mounted on a small war-horse. Matteo drew rein, and waited. ‘Truly, he mused, this was his lucky day! Two adventures, one upon the other’s heels! The girl on the Arab dashed up beside him in a shower of dust. ““‘We are pursuing an Assassin!” she ex- claimed excitedly. ‘Did you—Ho, you are only a boy!” Matteo glowered at her. ‘““And you are only a girl!’ he retorted. “You are ae But she thought better of it, and changed her tactics. A merry smile made her blue eyes twinkle. “Tell me—boy!”’ she wheedled. ~ “Tell you what?” countered Matteo. “Did you see a Templar with a foison of spears chasing an Assassin? One of his men cast a shoe, and told us as we rode from the castle.” “IT saw him,”’ answered Matteo. ‘And which way did they go?” “The Templar went that way,” said Matteo, pointing. “Ah, I give you thanks. I will ride on— boy!” Again the provocative smile. Matteo smiled back. The smile was contagious and he came instantly to two decisions: First, he wanted to see her smile some more; and second, he did not want her to ride off. ‘““*Tis useless,’ he advised her. “How?” she demanded, becoming haugh- ty. “Ettaire is swifter far than bulky chargers or leg-running Assassins.” “Nay, swiftness doth not enter into it,” returned Matteo. ‘‘The Templar is at fault.” ‘““How so?” ‘“‘Why, the quarry changed his guise and fooled him.” “Changed— But you mock mel’ Matteo smiled derision. “Nay, lady, for I aided him!” ¢V oyu—_—” C@ DOOKS (C@