Adventure Magazine Cover — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

The Web of the Sun “Red gushed the tide from Jes side, He bled for me, so red for m Wide flows the flood of Ghasiae blood, Let us bathe in that go-o-ory sea.’ These words were’sung to the dismal tune of Old Hundred, but instead of adhering to the major scale of the Anglo-Saxon, the Indians fell into their own wierd mode. It filled jungle and lake with an unutterable melancholy. It was the folk music of an imprisoned people, of infanticides wounded to death by their own vital pressure. In the midst of this chanting army, the promoter caught sight of Birdsong. The colporteur was not singing, but was thread- ing his way to the fore ranks of his vic- torious army. eG THE whole situation was incom- Sige prehensible to Lassiter. He hur- ics ried down to intercept the chieftain. A number of lances made way to admit the promoter to their ranks. The song con- tinued without interruption. Birdsong glanced up and nodded at Las- siter in the midst of the chanting. The col- porteur’s face. was ashen under its tan, and there were lines in it that Lassiter had never seen before. The Stendill agent waited impatiently for the singing to cease, curious to know what had brought Nunes to handcuffs. The Colombian was in no wise downcast. He strode along among his guards, chin up, swinging his green velvet shoulders from side to side. From a side view, Lassiter thought he was smiling. The whole affair might have been a play in which Balthasar refused to take his part seriously. After many stanzas of the scarlet song were finished, Birdsong spoke first. He sounded less as if he were starting a sen- tence, than continuing aloud some’ troubled train of thought. “T want to do what’s right and merciful, Brother Lassiter. It’s my hope and prayer— I want to act exactly like Christ would The promoter surmised this referred to Birdsong’s future treatment of the priests of the sun. “The difficulty is, Christ set you no pre- cedent there, Birdsong; He lost, you won.’ “I was talking about Brother Nunes, Brother Lassiter.” “Oh—I was wondering about Nunes. That’s the queerest revere I ever heard of— Did he run from the enemy?” 69 “Oh no, no indeed!”’ cried the colporteur. ‘He was the lion of Judah, Brother Lassi- ter; he saved my life twicet from the priests of Bal!” “Then what did he do?” Birdsong tramped silently for several minutes. Once he lifted an arm and wiped the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand. Finally he said— He misused the power Brother Lassiter.” “The automatic?” “The matches.”’ Lassiter looked at the colporteur, then at the muleteer trying to construe this in- formation ‘into sense, He repeated the word, “matches” carefully, as if some sec- ondary meaning might pop out of it. “T mean, Brother Lassiter, that Brother ‘Nunes with his matches convinced some of the wives of my men that he was an angel from heaven, and he—he—didn’t use them right, Brother Lassiter —” “You don’t mean - And the promoter broke off with a slack jaw. And yet, now that it had happened, it was as much like Nunes ag his own picture. God gave him, Just what one might havé expected. But it was such a fantastic sacrilege! ‘“‘The men who are guarding him are the husbands,” explained the colporteur som- berly. Lassiter looked at the seven ne around the gallant. The muleteer himself maintained his jaunty swagger. Now and then he glanced around at the women in the rear ranks. Once he caught Lassiter’s incredulous eyes. He waved gracefully, called a brilliant ‘Buenas dias, senor,’ and smiled. It was evident that his position at the head of the column as prisoner, the crimes he had committed, and whatever punish- ment was in store for him, preened his van- ity. He was by far the jauntiest man in the ranks. His call to Lassiter aroused a twitter among the women in the van. ‘“‘What are they going to do with him?” asked Lassiter at length. ‘“‘Chuck him in the net, Brother Lassiter,”’ the colporteur nodded woodenly up the lake. “Birdsong, you are not going to allow that!” It’ 's the law of Motobatl, Brother Las- siter.”’ MICLOOOK (C@