Adventure Magazine Cover — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

The Web of the Sun VIT Ng sa THE disappearance of the lamb ey from the net registered a shock on =< the promoter’s nerves which he did not realize until night. Then, however, it asserted itself in his dreams and troubled his sleep. The moment he lost consciousness he fancied himself back at the lakeside with the vicuna in his arms ready to throw it into the net. Every detail was precisely as he had experienced it during the evening, except, just when he was ready to throw, the little vicuha changed into Tilita. He was under some horrible compulsion to fling the girl into the net. She was clinging to him, beseeching. He could feel her form pressed against him, her milky palm against his face; then just as he swung her into destruction, he awoke with a vio- lent start, gasping for breath, with a ham- mering heart and a sweating body. Time after time he was startled awake by this nightmare. The night seemed endless. At his last awakening, he saw, with a great sense of relief, the first silver of dawn whitening the jungle. It came over him like a balm, for he knew if he fell asleep again, it would be dreamless. The dull silver strengthened in the airy chambers of the paddlewood. Dew, drip- ping from the leaves made a faint wide pattering. <A belated firefly glowed and paled against the dark bole of the. tree. The promoter lay looking at the fly, its delicate yellow fire on the verge of sending him to sleep again when gradually he be- came aware that some one had entered his cubicle. Without looking he knew it was Birdsong. The colporteur retained his rustic habit of rising during the latter hours of the night, to what purpose Lassiter never could dis- cover. Lassiter closed his eyes and wooed the sleep the firefly had promised, but the knowledge that Birdsong was standing be- side him frustrated his inhospitable design. Finally, without looking or moving he said— ““Well?’” ‘Are you awake, Brother Lassiter?” “T haven’t slept all night.” The promotor opened his eyes. The colporteur had a pack of Bibles on his back evidently just ready to set off on his crusade. AI “J’want anything?” slurred the New Yorker at last. The colporteur fumbled in his packs, moved uneasily and at last blurted out. “Vou got more education than I have, Brother Lassiter 2 The promoter let that pass. ‘“‘But I’ve read the Bible more than you have.” ‘You certainly have,’’ yawned Lassiter. ‘And you could easily—er—quite easily— ah—fall into sin and not know it, Brother Lassiter.” ~ Sin!’ The promoter opened his eyes fully and looked at the colporteur with a faint amusement in them. “Yes, sir, sin,” he repeated doggedly. “What kind of sin?” ‘“‘You bent your knee to Bal.” The promoter lifted his head. ‘“To—what?”’ “To Bal.” “Birdsong, what are you: driving at?” The revivalist plucked up his determina- tion. ‘““God have mercy on you, Brother Las- siter, have you fell into sin unbeknownst?” “But when—where—what : “Why, yestiddy evening!” cried the col- porteur. “I saw you kneeling beside that idolatrous woman down yonder by the lake . joining her in her filthy and idolatrous wor- ship of Bal!” The promoter stared at the stocky little man with a growing amusement. “Why that didn’t amount to anything, Birdsong—lI didn’t pray.” ““But you bent the knee.” The definite article before ‘‘knee’’ in- creased Lassiter’s. mirth. “Yes, I bent the knee,” he admitted in faint burlesque. ‘“Was it in mawkery?” ‘“‘Well—no. It wasn’t exactly in mockery either.” Birdsong shook his head. “Brother Lassiter, to bend the knee to Bal is strickly against God’s holy Word. I hope God’ll touch your heart, Brother Lassiter a From this the colporteur glided into an invocation: “Oh, Lord, do touch his hard heart! Look down on this ‘idolatrous and adulterous man, Lord, and smite him with conviction. He don’t know you, Lord, but he has let a strange woman lead him to the altar of Bal. NOOK (C@