Adventure Magazine Cover — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

The Web of the Sun caverns. Nevertheless sweat beaded the priest’s great form. A third man was in the room, an old Indian who stood in front of what might be called the archiepiscopal throne. Lassiter’s entrance caught him amid sentence, “fire from a tree with his hand, O holy Gogoma, and the tree burned up. Then he promised that all the children of my son’s wife should live in Motobatl. And I asked how would there be room for all the children born to live in Motobatl, and he said his God would push back the walls of Motobatl, and unroll the mountains into a vast and fertile country, and—. and—’”’ Here the Indian struck his head with his hand “—and perhaps he could, holy Gogoma, for he dashed fire from a tree-——— ‘““My son, who already has his one child, took up his lance and joined this wonder- maker. But I am old, holy Gogoma. All my vifas are in the Sun. I must join them. I ran into the jungle. The other man, who stood persuading my son’s wife, lifted his hand and hurled thunder after me. It struck off this finger—’ The wretch held up the stump of a digit, still bleeding. “I turned. I ran ‘ The high priest interrupted the narra- tive with a wave of his pendulous arm. “You may go, Maulo.”’ The Indian backed away, prostrating himself* at every step, and gripping the stump of his severed finger to prevent bleeding. Gogoma then dismissed the hunchback and waited impassively until the door was closed. Then he turned to Lassiter. “Senor,” he said in his unruffled, furry voice, “I sent for you because I overheard your words to Prymoxl concerning miracles, and I knew, at last, another man of intelli- gence had come to Motobatl ss The Stendill agent acknowledged the naked man’s compliment with a slight bow. ‘So I ask you, sefor, to tell me how does Sefior Birdsong strike fire and hurl thun- der.” “With sulphur matches and a pistol, Gogoma.” On afterthought he added— “They are usual, much less miraculous than grass and babies.” The behemoth nodded slightly. “T knew they were usual, sevior. What I wanted to find out was whether you pos- ee matches and pistols?” | 65 ‘‘No,”’ admitted the promoter. “I had some matches, but Birdsong took them all.”’ “Can you make more matches or pistols, senor?” “I haven’t the materials, or the skill, Gogoma.”’ The high priest looked at Lassiter. ‘“‘Are you So poor a man, seftor, as not to be able to make what you consume?” “Wait, don’t judge me hastily. In my country, Gogoma, each man does one thing well, and nothing else. Take my shoe, for instance—” the promoter held out his foot —“the labor of five thousand men went into that shoe. One man killed the cow, others stripped the hide, a whole tannery of men cured it, thousands of men worked over it in a shoe factory. Still another army of men grew the cotton and made the laces for the eyes. Look at the metal tip on this lace. It requires three men at machines to put the tip on the lace; that is all three men do, put tips on strings. So that is why I cannot make matches nor pistols.” Certain faint movements of the hairs of the behemoth’s nose and brows betrayed the astonishment he felt at his first glimpse of the highly specialized labor of a modern factory. “By Pachacamac!” he rumbled. ‘Your countrymen must be as the leaves of the jungle to have so many workers. Just see. what can be accomplished with the lives of many children—your priests must let all your babies live.” Lassiter looked curiously at the mountain. “Don’t your” The bulk shook a jellied negative. “That is another point I wished to speak about, Sefior Lassiter.”’ ‘“‘“About babies?” “St, senor.” The promoter stared at the vast man curiously. ‘What do you want to say about babies?” “T wanted to show you why it is impossi- pe for all babies born in Motobatl—to ve.” Lassiter’s regard slowly filled with horror. “Do you mean you-——”’ The bulk nodded impassively. ‘Thousands every year, seftor.” As the promoter gaped at the vast man, slowly there dawned upon him the signifi- cance of many riddles in Motobatl—old Prymoxl’s babies living in the sun—the COMICOOokKSs Cc C©@