Adventure, December 1914 — page 217: what you’re looking at

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

The Sinews of War “Tt is,” I said with a solemnity that was born of conviction and the uncertainty of the future. ; ‘“‘And I haven’t much doubt you two will get away all right,’ he went on. ‘Dan Blair always was a lucky fellow, and Ma- soya is too clever to be caught. You makea good combination.” | By this time we had reached a crossroad where a narrow forest track branched off from the main highway that led on toward Dubnitza. None of the débris of the fron- tier battles had passed this way, although we could hear the incessant clamor of the guns growling beyond the blue herizon. ‘“‘This is our way,” said Masoya, indicat- ing the forest track. “Then it’s time to say good-by,”’ replied Boris, and he added, ‘‘God bless you both.’’ Until we had rounded a turn in the trail and placed a wall of Summer greenery be- tween us, he stood there by the crossroads looking after us—a very gallant gentleman and a true friend, who scorned all thought of personal advantage and was willing to risk his commission to save those he loved. The path we followed led straight into the heart of the well-nigh impenetrable forest which clothes the slopes of the southern Balkans. It was a wild land of tumbling mountains and huge stretches of fir trees and pines, desolate and uninhabited. -But scarcely an hour had gone by since we left Boris when I sensed that we were being fol- lowed. I told Masoya, and we quickened our pace. The road was rough and posi- tively dangerous here and there, yet we pushed our horses to a gallop and drove them to the limit of their capacity. So the morning sped by, and for a time I thought we had shaken off the Nemesis that hung to our heels. We let our weary mounts slow down to a walk—and within an hour the sensation of being followed was with us again. By now even Masoya could perceive what at first she had taken my word for. We could not hear anything tangibly at variance with the ordinary,wood- land noises; but we knew that some one, something, was clinging to our trail with a persistence that would not be denied. When mid-afternoon came and the sus- pense still hung over us I made up my mind to end the matter once and for all, for better or worse, before dusk should set in, when we would have more to fear from treachery than in the sunlight. 215 So we halted in a little valley on the mountain’s flank, and withdrew from the trail a short distance into the woods. To any one coming along the trail we were in- visible, and each of us carried an automatic which we held ready to use if necessary. At first the only concrete evidence of the world beyond the hills was the faint boom- ing of’ cannon, telling of the conflict being waged by three mighty armies; but presently my ear caught a rustling of underbrush, the crackling of leaves and sticks, up the trail we had followed. Masoya heard it too, and drew closer to me. Our horses pricked their ears forward and quivered uncer- tainly. There could be no doubt that some one was approaching. Suddenly a dark shape loomed through the trees far down the trail, and I raised my pistol, prepared to fire. Masoya seized my arm just in time. “Don’t shoot, Dan!” she cried. Stoyan!”’ Our mysterious pursuer was the great hound we both had good cause to love, and instead of firing I spurred my horse forward into the trail to-meet him. But he took scant notice of me. His first thought was for hie’ mistress, and he reared up on his hind legs, a good six feet tall, it seemed, putting his forepaws against her saddle and looking into her eyes as wistfully as a child. Then when she had patted and caressed him, he came over to me for a similar dem- onstration; yet not quite so effusive, as one who would say— | “Yes, good sir, I love you; but you can not expect to be as my mistress is to me.” Five minutes later we rode on, Stoyan loping beside us, apparently as fresh as if he had rested a whole day. Not far beyond this point the forest ended, and we began to climb the bare upper masses of the hills, a maze of naked black rocks that looked chilly and cold under the Summer sunset. A wind sprang up, too, that sighed and whistled about us as we plunged into a dark defile where it was already twilight. We had not progressed very far along this rift in the mountain when Stoyan began to growl uneasily and swing his head from side to side. Thinking the danger the dog evi- dently scented came from behind, I sug- gested that we go forward at a trot. It was impossible to go faster, both on account of the nature of the ground and of the horses’ condition. As we rode on the darkness Tis MICLOOOK (C©