Adventure Magazine Cover — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

The Web of the Sun hundred squares in New York where crowds foregather; perhaps fifty of those passen- gers are out in the squares tonight a2 “Brother Lassiter, what are you doing?” inquired the Arkansan ingenuously. “I was trying to calculate how many chances out of a billion you had of meeting a passenger on the Brazilian when you walked out, took this seat and waited for one to come along.”’ ‘““My brother,” said Birdsong with a warming smile, “don’t worry your head about the mysteries of God. I used to try to reason things out tull I jest th’owed myself on His holy promises—ain’t you got an extry bed in our room on the Brazilian?”’ “No.”’ ‘‘Ain’t you got no space on the floor where your trunks ain’t settin’ where I could lay down at nights?” “Well, yes,’’ admitted Lassiter, a whole suite of rooms, but ag ‘Praise God!” ejaculated Birdsong in a conversational tone. “But hold on,” protested Lassiter with an uncomfortable feeling that his moral supports were slipping. ‘Sure, I’m holding on,” a certain twinkle in his black eyes signaled a sense of humor; “TI ain’t goin’ to let go. The Lord’s done His work, and I’ll do mine. Now look here, Brother Lassiter, you won’t even see me in your sweet rooms. I'll slip in about ten or half past at night—long after you’ve gone to bed; and I’ll yave out by three or four in the morning long before you get up.” The Stendill agent felt himself thawing, a little unwillingly. Then, too, Birdsong’s faith appealed to him as a sporting propo- sition. The man had taken a chance of about one in ten million (he had managed the figures roughly) and was about to win. It gave Lassiter a sort of thrill. It was a bit of genuine romance, a touch of the wildly improbable, a gesture of the lawless gods who make laws, but who disport themselves above laws. ‘“‘What are you going to do when you get down there, Brother Lassiter?” Birdsong’s accent included himself in the voyage. The promoter was amused. ‘Why I’m going to——” | Here he stopped. For some reason he did not want to tell Ezekiel Birdsong a lie. “T hope it ain’t nothin’ to get you into no trouble,’’ observed the Arkansan simply. “T think not.” “y have 9 “T’ve heard of smugglers and gamblers and such like. I hope you ain’t none of them. If you’ve got any secret sin on your heart, Brother Lassiter, you can tell it to me.” ; Lassiter laughed. “Tt’s a secret, but not a secret sin; it’s a trade secret.” ‘I’m used to trade secrets,” said Bird- song. “‘My daddy was a moonshiner in Tennessee before he got religion.” *““My trade secret is this: I am wonder- ing how it will be possible for me to make a journey across the Andes from Quito and not allow my trade rivals to know what I am doing?” Birdsong studied a moment. ‘“‘Are there any lost sinners on that route, Brother Lassiter?”’ 3 “Sinners are not lost in South America, Mr. Birdsong; you can lay your hand on them anywhere.”’ “Glory to God,” observed the colpor- teur conversationally; ‘‘then why couldn’t I take the route you want to go, Brother Lassiter, and you could come along as my Spanish interrupter?” Lassiter looked at the Arkansan as he proposed this exceedingly simple method of gaining complete obscurity. He had never thought of making his explorations in South America in a humble réle. Like most well-to-do men the thought of leaving his own sphere never occurred to him; yet it was the easiest, most natural device possible. The colporteur scrutinized Lassiter’s face closely, and saw that he had gained. ‘“You see, Brother Lassiter, the Lord has sent me a berth on the Brazilian and a Spanish interrupter all at one whack, bless His holy name!’ His drawl held a genial triumph. Lassiter’s mind came back to the matter in hand, and a certain human duty he owed | Birdsong. “T must warn you, Mr. Birdsong, I am going into an unsettled country.” “‘That’s all right, Brother Lassiter, I come from an unsettled country.” ‘“‘There may be even danger.” “They tell me the martyrs wear the brightest crowns of anybody in the New Jerusalem, Brother Lassiter. I only hope I’ll be considered worthy to die in His cause, bless His holy name!” ‘All right, we'll try it.”” He arose briskly. MICLOOOK C@