Adventure Magazine Cover — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

He that Prepareth the Way of St. Panteleimon under the altar. I sell them, but only to good Christians, to priests and deacons and pious innkeepers, as I may chance to find one in a week’s journeying. Our ikons are sanctified, and if an unbe- liever or a rascal touches them, wo betide the house where the holy ikon has been thus insulted! Why, innkeeper, my St. Georges are almost alive, and the ‘Dragon spits real fire! If you touch him during Lent with greasy hands it would burn your fingers!”’ “Virgin Mary and Holy St. Calliope have mercy on our souls and deliver us from fires everlasting!” Stanko was a pious idiot and made use of a wide acquaintance with the celestial community in his ,exclamations. “You are a good Christian, innkeeper? Stanko is your name?” ‘Stanko is my name, traveler.” “Well, here comes my zaptie/i-servant. Now then, you Armenian tortoise, where have you been lolling all this while? Didn’t I tell you that there was a pious innkeeper here that wanted one of our real live St. Georges with the fire-spitting dragons? Hurry up and bring a couple of them over ere and have him choose the one he likes est!” The reclining figure in the cassock hard- ly stirred during this speech of Selim’s. “Yes, Stanko,” the Effendi continued, “af you wish to find out whether a man is cheating you, just get him to touch the dragon’s tongue with his third finger, and watch it blister! My ikons never lie. Fact is, | can’t sell you any, no matter how much money you may offer for it, until you have touched the dragon yourself while chanting the ‘Gospody pomiluy’ of the holy liturgy. If it doesn’t burn you, you can have it free for nothing and without cost.” “What! The St. George ikon?” “Why, yes, provided you do your share in an experiment I am going to try.” The door opened and Osman walked in noisily, with a package bulging out from under his coat. Selim noticed the napping priest suddenly turn around and shoot a glance at the new-comer, and then continue his snoring. Stanko grinned at Selim Ef- fendi and nodded toward the dozing figure: A priest’s son is the devil’s grandson 66 nowadays, traveler. God alone knows where he has been last night. Said he came from Tetino, where he had been visiting some sick parishioners, and then he said he was going on a pilgrimage to the Great on 9 695 High! Well, I don’t know about that—and far be it from me, merchant, to speak il of a priest in cassock, the Virgin Mary bless my sinful heart!’ “Well, that’s what I was coming to, Stanko,” the Effendi continued. He re- lieved the servant of his package. Then, beckoning to the innkeeper to sit down, Selim Effendi moved his cushion closer to him and began whispering in his ear: ‘Here is what I think, Stanko. When I was at St. Panteleimon’s last time, my brother, Archdeacon Azarias, told me: ‘Look out wherever you go, brother; the Evil One is abroad.’ ‘The Evil One?’ says I. ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘the very Satan himself. ‘The Lord has given him leave to travel all over Macedonia in the garb of a priest and see whomsoever he can snare. The Lord wishes to find out how many of his servants can tell each other from the Devil. Pretty hard thing to do with some of them, brother!’ That’s what my brother the Archdeacon told me.” “By St. Onuphry and by St. Sophrony! And have you seen him anywhere in ycur travels?”’ Stanko was crossing himself and mumbling the “Gospedy pomiluy.” “Shhh!” Selim Effendi cautioned. ‘“ Not so loud! I asked my brother the Archdeacon: ‘And how can I recognize him? Shall I try my dragon on him and blister his fingers?’ ‘By no means,’ says he, ‘the St. Georges are no good except for mortal men. But I had a dream last night, and,’ my brother the Archdeacon said, ‘I saw the Holy Parch- ment of St. Panteleimon curl up on the thirty-third page. JI opened the book first thing after liturgy, and this is what I read: “By his beard shalt thou know him, the Evil One that keepeth awake in the night and sleepeth in the daytime with the owl. By his beard and his cassock shalt thou know him. ‘Thou shalt bind his feet and his eyes shalt thou put to confusion, and his beard shalt thou pluck and cast away. Fora sleeping servant is unto the Lord an abom- ination.”” Whatever that means, brother,’ my brother the Archdeacon says, ‘ whatever that means, I have not pondered yet.’ “Well, Stanko,” the Effendi continued, “vou feel where the wind is blowing? I have been watching him over there on the smoking-divan, and if he doesn’t answer the Holy Book of St. Panteleimon to an iota! Now, innkeeper, as you are a Chris- tian and an honest man, help me capture CoOnnicloookxs (C@