Adventure Magazine Cover — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

The Web of the Sun neither till Dan’l done it; and nobody ever walked through a f’ary furnace, neither, till the three Hebrew children done it. Don’t you know our God that made Moto- batl, an’ all it contains, can save me from a few ropes and some glue if He wants to?”’. Lassiter was by his friend’s side. “Listen, Birdsong,” he begged, “‘you are not fooling with matches now. Don’t risk that thing— Turn Nunes loose!” -“Brother Lassiter, if God had to crucify His only begotten Son to save the human race, don’t you know there ain’t no sich thing as jest turnin’ a sinner aloose? Sin’s got to be paid for.” The fundamental difference between’ the two men angered Lassiter for the last time. “But how? Why? What good does suf- fering do? —— it, man, there’s no.connec- tion between one man’s guilt and another man’s suffering. It’s not only unjust, its shameful, its revolting! Stop! Stop! I tell you a man in a rage wouldn’t kill a friend because his enemy had— For God’s sake, Birdsong!”’ ‘———a debt Birdsong was striding down to the net. “But hell zsn’t a debt!” yelled Lassiter. _“Punishment is simply corrective or re- vengeful— Don’t— Don’t goon that thing—your whole scheme is as im- moral as s Suddenly the promoter gave up howling and ran to Nunes, whom his captors had reluctantly loosed. “Get your automatic, Nunes!” he yelled in the confusion. ‘“Those priests are not going to work their burning trick on Bird- song!” Nunes motioned toward one of the spear- men. Lassiter jumped at the man. “Gimme that gun!’ He had it before the Indian could assent or object. He thrust it into the Colom- bian’s hand and hurried with him down to the water’s edge. : ‘Now, sit right here, with that gun drawn! Shoot any fired thing you see move!” By this time Birdsong was in the limed meshes. He was trying to walk across the viscous strands. When he pulled up a foot, the cord untwisted but stuck and stretched. As he tried to go forward with both feet fast, he lost his balance and his hands went down. He shoved with one hand and tried to loose the other. At every straining ef- fort other parts of his body inevitably 71 touched the viscid tubes. He seemed to be pulling the unearthly ropes up over him- self. It held his clothes and the struggles of the gigantic little man ripped the seams. His clothing slowly parted and tore off. The stuff laid its grip on his white skin. He was prone with one arm outspread and the other twisted under him. His efforts distorted the net. His muscles balled up. The thing gave to his efforts. He strug- gled against nothing. Lassiter could endure it no longer. “Get a pole,” he shouted, and as nobody made a move, the promoter leaped up and sprinted over the little rise toward a bam- boo that had drifted ashore. Then he realized that all the army were _ kneeling toward the rising sun droning the prayer that Tilita had taught him. The promoter reached the pole. He flew back up the slope. The net was empty. He rushed to Nunes who sat, with auto- matic still outstretched, staring white-eyed at the empty strands. “Did he get out, Nunes?” chattered Las- siter. “Did he get out? Where is he?” He shook the man with the poised fire- arm. Nunes closed his mouth, wet his. lips and stared at Lassiter. A great horror came over the promoter— ‘“‘Nunes—my God!—where is he?” The Colombian seemed dazed. ‘*S-Sefor,’ he chattered. “Didn’t you see him? Didn’t you see what went with him?” Nunes shook his head. Lassiter looked at the net; then back at Nunes. ‘‘I—I—took my eyes off just a second —only an instant——” “God in heaven, man, what for?” Nunes moistened his lips and suddenly fell to sobbing— “I—I was looking at a w-woman——” XIIT pra FOR upward of an hour, perhaps two Ka) hours, Birdsong’s men remained ~“ near the hillock, moving about aim- lessly, talking in whispers, staring at the net wherein their leader had disappeared. Some wept. The sun arose and stretched long fingers of light through the smoke. At last, tired out with fighting, marching, and lack of sleep, apprehensive of the priests, and leaderless, the colporteur’s disciples MICLOOOK C@