Adventure Magazine Cover — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

The Web of the Sun They fired their pots now and then with dried droppings, and no sooner had they finished that task than they scooped up a double handful of peppers to throw into the stew, and next moment ladle out fiery portions to their customers. A little way from the piquante tables, out in the plaza, a Colombian jockey rode a bucking mule. The fellow had on a green velvet jacket. He sat the animal carelessly, and in the midst of its leaps and stiff-legged falls, he extolled to a prospective buyer how well broken the animal was, what an amiable disposition the mule possessed, how it would work from alba to tardectta (dawn to twilight) without so much as backing an ear, a willing mule, a sincere mule—— Amidst this oratory and bucking, he found time to flash a smile of brilliant teeth at the piguante girls. Lassiter wondered vaguely if he were too old to ride like that. The jockey was some twenty-three or four. Then the financial agent’s attention wan- dered to a llama that was hissing like a snake; then to a man tying a stone to a jack’s tail to keep it from braying. As a background for this kaleidoscopic scene arose the cone of Pichincha far to the east in flashing silver and purple. Against this arose the spires and domes of the city, the twin towers of the cathedral, the weather observation bureau on top of the Prensa building, the monastery of the Gray Friars. From the height of the volcano there swept down great ridges of tufa that embraced the city in vast bluish arms. Lassiter’s attention to the landscape was diverted by Birdsong’s calling him. The colporteur was bargaining with the man in the green jacket to hire his mules for the expedition. The jockey’s English had flickered out among the higher numerals. Lassiter walked over and picked up the conversation in Spanish. “What do you want for your mules, senor?” ‘Where do you wish to go, sefor?”’ “East, through Corriente, past the Rio Vampiro——” The expression on the vender’s stopped Lassiter. “Not the Rio Vampiro?”’ “Yes, on through the Ticunas into Braz The Colombian looked at Lassiter with a loose jaw. face Il “The sefior is mad!” “IT was never clearer-headed.” “Then you have never been to the Rio Vampiro.”’ oN a.” “T have.” “Then you’ll make the very guide.” The Colombian stroked a polished black mustache and broke into a nervous laugh. ‘““Senores, the man who has been in the Rio Vampiro makes no guide at all. He has learned his lesson. I would not go there again for two hundred sucres a month.” “T’ll give a hundred-and-fifty.” The man in the greer jacket frowned and pulled hard at his mustachio. His black eyes seemed staring at something disagree- able. | “But, sevores, I warn you,” he flung out, “that is a vampire country—in that coun- try 33 “Y’ve heard so,” interrupted Lassiter indifferently. “Tt is not hearsay with me,” declared the Colombian warmly. ‘‘Look——” } He stepped nearer Lassiter, bringing with him the odor of mules and of his own unwashed body. He tipped his head to one side and the movement drew the skin of his neck up from under the greasy collar of his green velvet coat. This drew a peculiar withered spot on the skin into view. Lassiter looked at it uncomprehendingly. “A vampire, sefor, right over that big vein,’ explained the vender. “My cama- rado discovered it just as I lay stretched out: breathing my last. The beast was as big as an eagle. It was fluttering over me, fanning me deeper into my last sleep, when he rushed up and beat it off with a stick. Ah, sewores, many a time has Balthasar Nunes gambled with death, but never before—never before—pardon me, sefores, un momento, I think the sevoritas are listen- ing. I will explain to them. I could not ™ rest in Heaven if I thought the gentle bosom of any woman held a question un- answered by Balthasar Nunes——” Here he made rather a fine bow to the Americans and withdrew to the piquante stands. Just how Balthasar discovered the women were listening, Lassiter never knew. Bal- thasar’s back had been to them. Lassiter NOOK (©