Adventure Magazine Cover — page 77: 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 believe it?” | _ The high priest lifted his hands. “Senor, they must, else they would go mad and die. All humanity must have some religion, or the horrors of life will overcome them. Pachacamac is the god of the living, not the god of the dead.” A silence fell between the men. From out on the piazza came the tumult of the people clamoring for their babies. It might have been the roaring of the sea against the coast. | “Why have you told me this, Gogoma?”’ ‘So you can tell your friend, Sefior Birdsong.” “Birdsong?” “Si, senor. Tell Sefior Birdsong that he may become the high priest, that his God may become the God of Motobatl, if he will only preserve the web of the sun. That alone is necessary. Sefior Birdsong would make a good high priest. He is hard and cruel, and unmarried. He seems _to have no desire for marriage.” “Why shouldn’t a priest marry?” “Because no man can have children of his own and attend the sacrifices.” The South. American agent sat in the huge chair and brooded over this strange request. He looked at the sweating brown man. “Birdsong would not listen to me, Go- goma.” bee, 7 “Will he not listen to reason?” “‘No—he goes by a book.” “Does his book permit babies?” “Yes, it is a book for an open country— and a cool country.” . “But is Birdsong not a priest in his own country?” : “No, just a follower.” The naked ecclesiast shook his head slowly. “Such is the danger of lifting ignorant men to the priesthood—they believe ‘what they teach. They serve the letter of the law, not its spirit. They serve the god of the dead, not the god of the living e The high priest seemed to shake off some settling despondency. “Go to him, sefior—all you can do is to go to him and explain 4 “He will probably kill me.” “Very likely, my brother—I will pray——”’ “To whom?” “TI, Gogoma, the high priest, will pray, my brother.” 67 Lassiter got slowly out of the priestly seat. He felt queerly weak. It seemed hardly worth while to walk out of the door, or to speak to Birdsong, or to do anything. Somehow Gogoma’s talk had stripped the veil off of things that were best left veiled. He walked out into the cogridor. On the stone bench, Tilita still sat. The taper over her head had guttered out. Somehow the sight of the maiden seated at the door of the temple melted some frozen thing in Lassiter’s heart. Suddenly, he understood why women, always, were the religious moiety of mankind. They have so much more at stake. A great tenderness ached in his throat. He ran to her and caught her in his arms. He kissed her with an intolerable compas- sion on her womanhood. His tears dropped on her neck and bosom. The girl herself sobbed in sympathy, not knowing why. Beside them, old Prymoxl snuffled, think- ing of her niwas in the Sun. She was no obstacle to their fondling. So much of the masculine had she held in her that she was epicene; so many children had she borne that her personality was scattered; she was life’s point of departure, an old caravanserai without traffic, deserted Here and there.through the vast dimly lighted corridor moved a priest of the Sun on some obscure errand. AIT ¢ AS LASSITER crossed the great i ma piazza on his strange mission as an ™ advocate of infanticide, he was amazed that he had not discovered long before the existence of ,that practise in Motobatl. “Every incident he could now _recall pointed so simply in that direction. On every hand he had heard the sun myth, which veiled the custom with the thinnest drapery. Moreover Lassiter had known that al- most every barbarous people indulged in the practise: China, Japan, India, the South Seas; the history of the Jews record it; America feels prenatal infanticide; France taxes childlessness. And yet with the solu- tion of mystery of Motobatl written across every page of history, Lassiter had not seen it. The promoter was chagrined at him- self. - It was dawn now, and as the gray light DOOK (C©