Adventure Magazine Cover — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

The Web of the Sun by the workings of their own subconscious minds—but in the gulf of the subconscious, Lassiter quickly lost his own bearings. As for Birdsong, he had no idea what sub- conscious meant. He rebutted everything by his unassailable argument— “If the Lord wanted to work miracles with His Testaments, He could, couldn’t He?” After that, Birdsong recommended his books as a nostrum for all the ills of the flesh. : As Lassiter trudged day after day, behind his mule, goading it on under its pack of Bibles, there were times when he felt that he was moving in some kind of delirium And would presently awake, with a high fever, no doubt, in his New York apartment. At the end of eight days’ journeying, the expedition was widely advertised. At each camp came Indians bringing gifts—olla podrida, chickens to cook, potatoes, man- goes, or cakes of ice brought down by the donkeys from snow fields five thousandfeet higher up. As they journeyed farther and farther east, the villages became more widely scattered, for they were reaching the fringe of Ecuadorian civilization, which is the department of Corriente. At the village of Canelos, an Indian boy offered to carry a sack of Bibles over to Bujeo, the last civilized village toward the east, and allow the white men to turn back. ‘The men of Canelos told strange tales of the country beyond Bujeo. It belonged, they said, to a tribe called the Jivaros, who fed strangers to their gods. Birdsong interrupted these tales with pious ejaculations: “Lead me to my chosen field, O Lord! Show Thy power to the heathen Jivaros!” The more terrible were the stories of the men of Canelos, the more determined Bird- song was to goon. On the ninth morn- ing the white men reached Bujeo. A handful of wretched Indians lived here, and by some miracle the white men’s coming. was known to them. The whole village met the colporteurs. After each person had received a testa- ment of medicinal and spiritual value, the Bujeans implored the three men to go no farther. They would surely be lost in the infernal land of the Jivaros. By this time, Birdsong was harrying-his mule in his eagerness to reach a post of T5 genuine danger and miraculous service. . The expedition was soon on its way again. One of the Bujeans, an Indian named Chombo Meone, attached himself to the colporteurs for several hours. As _ they ascended the rising slopes of the eastern range of the Andes, Chombo told Lassiter a most fantastic tale, which he hoped would turn back the adventurers. tale: This was the *-{ WHEN Chombo was a boy his -f mother died. He consulted a monk “SS as to the state of her soul and was shocked to find that she was probably still in purgatory. Ten masses might win free- dom for her. Unfortunately, Chombo did not have enough money to pay for ten masses, So he took three. Now every one in Bujeo Chee that the Rio Vampiro was lined with nuggets of gold the size of a man’s head, but the diffi- culty was, it all belonged to the King of the Jivaros, or that is to say, the devil. — Chombo explained his predicament to the monk, and the good man told Chombo if he would learn a prayer to subdue the devil, he could probably go to the Rio Vampiro, get the gold and return in safety. Chombo agreed to this, so the monk, who knew all sorts of prayers, taught him a prayer, and the Indian set out. Sure enough, he found the valley of the Rio Vampiro scattered with gold. He filled his packs so full his poor donkey could scarcely crawl. He goaded the beast at every step and cursed it by all the saints in the calendar, but unfortunately black night fell upon him before he was clear of the land of the Jivaros. So he camped, refreshed himself with cocoa leaves, said the prayer seven times, then wrapped ane in his poncho and fell asleep. He had the most horrible dreams. When he awoke, his bags were gone, and his donkey hung to a tree by a cord, strangled as if it had been a sparrow. Who could pull a donkey up a tree by a cord except the devil? Chombo had the presence of mind to cut off a piece of the cord as proof of his story and then fled the place. At the conclusion of this extraordinary narrative, Chombo drew from under his poncho his embroidered bag of ashes and cocoa leaves, opened it and displayed the NOOK C@