Adventure Magazine Cover, December 10, 1922 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

24 a baleful lemon-yellow glare still flickered low in the West. It was freakish, like summer-lightning. | He need not have hurried. What Ma- hommed Babar had seen became much more visible as darkness deepened. A series of fires placed roughly in the shape of the letter M flickered and gainéd brilliancy in the woods about five miles away, illumin- ating a wide clearing, and he could see dark shapes of men dancing around in circles and ducking. Pure Arab that. Nothing In- dian about it. Brother Moplah was re- verting true to type, as all men do when their primitive passions are aroused. You can recognize the pigeon-movement of Arabs dancing from as far away as you can detect any movement at all, but the man does not live who can explain the significance of just that bobbing of the heads toward the center all together. There was rising ground capped by a high rock on King’s left front, about two hundred yards away. Because of the trees you could not see it until up in the tree- tops; Mahommed Babar had seen it and evidently decided it was better than the ~ tree, for he was up there now, where he in turn, had been seen by a Moplah scout. By a flash of sheet-lightning King saw Mahommed Babar step out and stand silhouetted on the summit of the rock. The next flash showed two men talking furiously. King climbed down again followed by the jungli. There was nothing to be gained by guessing; much to be gained by the fact that Mahommed Babar did not suspect pursuit. For a man entitled to the benefit of the doubt and no more the Northerner was taking reckless chances, but not greater than King proceeded to take; for King, having no password or sign, risked being seen by Moplah scouts, who are as alert as they are bloodthirsty. For the life of him he could not make the jungli understand that he wanted to creep close and listen without being seen. The jungli understood that he should follow and overtake Ma- hommed Babar, and when you understand a thing you understand it, naked or other- wise. King tried to send him back to Ommony, but he would not go, not having accomplished his task yet, so finally King put a cord around his throat and held him in leash by that, as you would a too eager hunting dog. So they crept closer, each Adventure mistrustful of the other’s smell, as the way is of humans as well as animals. The arrangement did not last long. Restraint was intolerable and the jumnglz slipped out of the noose. Down thereunder the trees the range of vision ceased at about a hand’s breadth from the eyes unless you had animal sight. The jungli vanished with ‘the incredible speed of a shadow, and King thought he heard him break a twig about fifty paces ahead some seconds later, so he crept forward, groping with fingers on the ground. The great thing was to make no noise. Doubtless the jungli had made that little noise in order to guide him. Wonder- ful fellows junglis. Pity they could not talk intelligibly. One thing was quite unnecessary—to be on guard against animals. The fires five miles away and the outthrown ring of scouts would have driven every jungle denizen bigger than a hare to other hunting grounds. Nothing to do but keep out of sight and go close—close—close—that is where secrets are learned and thoughtful little games prevented—close! Engage the enemy more closely—England’s _watch-word, or it ought to be. It went through King’s head like a refrain, like those snatches you repeat in time to the thump of train wheels. “Closer! Closer! Nothing to be gained by hanging back!” Then some one struck a light—touched off a fire of leaves and twigs on top of the pinnacle rock—and he saw Mahommed Babar seated facing the other man, talking with him earnestly. There were four men now, not two, and he recognized Mahom- med Babar by the shape of his turban, which was unmistakable. They heaped fuel on the fire as if they wanted to be seen by all the countryside. But of course the fire made it seem even darker down below, just as staring at it produced spots of light in front of the eyes that made the dark more difficult to penetrate than ever. So King took his eyes off the fire and crawled forward again. He was sure he heard the jungli. Another twig broke, whicli is a way those people have of signal- ing. Ommony could have read the signal accurately, but all King could do was to follow the sound. Now he could hear the men talking on the high rock. He glanced up again and saw six, the last two standing. At any rate he hoped they were the last two. comicebook (Eo)