Adventure Magazine Cover — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

Kos, the Witch-Doctor “T’m settin’ on it,” wails Magpie, “I’ve got a kink in my neck. Will yuh hold it down until I can get up?” Just then a voice from under him starts singing very soft and low— 99 ‘““There’s a la-a-a-nd that is fairer than this Magpie gets to his feet and takes a deep breath. “Testament,” says he, blat like a sheep?” But Testament’s mind is not dwelling on.sheep—not the kind of sheep that Mag- pie meant. Then the three of us starts limping toward home. “what made yuh 87 ‘“Mebbe,” says Magpie, kinda painful- like, “‘mebbe we progressed too fast. Pipe- rock don’t appreciate it, gents, but this night the old town jumped ahead at least fifty years.” “Jumpin’,” says Dirty, reflective-like, ‘Jumpin’ don’t hurt nobody, but, holy hen- hawks, it sure does hurt to jump that far and light so hard.” We pilgrims along, everybody trying hard to make their legs track. Finally Magpie says— “Personally, I think that interpretive dancin’ has anythin’ skinned I ever seen.”’ “Me too,” says I, “and parts I never have seen,” Author of ‘“‘In Kaffir Kraals,” “‘The Crocodile’s Bride,” etc. OS was a very old-looking man. His age, to look at him, was two hundred years or more; though, in point of fact, he was not so old as to be decrepit. And he was almost as agile as any umfan (boy) in the tribe-clan that he was part of. His eyes were con- stantly puckered up, and they peered at everything through years of dirt that had accumulated around both eyes and nose. His hands were indescribably dirty; the débris under his finger-nails would have made good manure for a miniature garden. But the lines of his hands were smooth, and the fingers themselves were strong and sup- ple. The third fingers of both hands were nearly as long as the second fingers and ac- tually longer than the first or index fingers. Kos liked to, and did, live alone. There “Kos, the Witch-Doctor,”’ copyright, 1922, by Santie Sabalala. was a small boy who had been given to him —as was the native custom—by a sister because he (the boy) was the first-born. The boy just now was looking after Kos’ large herd of sheep, goats and cattle. Kos, in the days that were now gone by, had been quite a power in the community. As a mixer of herbs no one could surpass him. In witchcraft he was a wizard in every sense of the word. His sense of proph- ecy was uncanny at times. But now a vounger witch-doctor had his position, and was the power behind the throne. Kos sat over a small fire in the shallow cave that he made his home. As he gazed into the glowing embers there came a shout from the outside in the far distance: ‘“Wheevyee! Wheeyeel Kos stretched out his arm, got hold of a COmiclboooks (C@