Adventure Magazine Cover — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

The Web of the Sun not know. The decision had come to pass in the blind alleys of his subconsciousness. The first hint the man received was when he spoke tentatively to old Prymoxl. Now he had announced a definite decision to Nunes. He walked back into his cubicle and began packing his bags with a kind of thirst for the quiet and abnegation of the temple. As he packed, the surroundings of the paddlewood brought Birdsong before his mind. He thought of how he had run after the little man for their last talk, of how Birdsong had warned him against idolatrous women, and had prayed that he should never marry Tilita. His present action and that prayer were a last strange coinci- dence. Just around in the southern cubicle lay scattered Birdsong’s Bibles where they - would lie and mold until time and insects reduced them to dust. This was the out- come of the price of land advancing in Arkansas, and a squatter’s gratitude to God’ for the law of adverse possession—this piti- ful sacrifice for a callous muleteer. Lassiter was stowing“away the last of his things when he heard a step outside, and then a little gasp. He straightened with the deliberation of thirty-nine years and saw Tilita standing with his dinner in the sunlight of the entrance. She seemed breathless from hurrying, and now stood looking at him with frightened eyes. She put the platter on the table mechanically, and then stood mute, regarding first the man, then his packed bags. The promoter remained motionless with the peculiar outspread, hanging hands of a man who is caught under suspicious cir- cumstances. Mentally he blasphemed that he had packed his bags so hastily. He should have let the girl come and go. They advertised his decision. ‘They shouted it without finesse. He had meant to consult with Tilita, to win her over gently, but his packed bags damned him. She moistened her lips. “My madre told’ me th-that _per- haps Her composure wnich depended on her silence failed on this sentence. She began another— “T r-ran all the way. I—lI was afraid you - would b—be g——” Suddenly she dropped to her knees with her arms across the platter— 77 “Oh—oh, primo!” she sobbed. ‘Th-this was our w-wedding supper ss She lay sobbing violently with her arms stretched among the fruits and wine and bowls that were meant to grace her wedding feast. Lassiter crossed to her with a melting pity. He wrapped her in his arms. “Oh, Tilita, beautiful, hush, don’t cry, sweetheart He was patting her cheek; he lifted her blue-black hair and pressed his lips to the whiteness of her neck. The smell of her hair, the spice of the wine and the soft rondures of her form filled Lassiter with the vastness of his resignation. One lobe of his brain set up a desperate pleading for this luscious woman; another began framing some excuse that would pro- tect her from the devastating knowledge that had come to him. The old excuse of religion came to his mind, that mental buffer to interpose before the edge of reality. It was the first and last use Lassiter ever made of the science. “Tilita, a man’s religious duty - should come first of all—— “Tilita, both of us owe our lives to Pachacamac who made us ‘“‘Tilita, both of us will live forever as bride and groom in the bright mansions of the Sun With long sighs, the man mouthed the old, old clichés. The ashes, the emptiness of it filled his mouth with salt. He circled her breast and face with his arms and pressed his face to hers. He could feel her wet cheeks against his. “Oh, Tilita, Tilita—” he shuddered. His pain brought the girl some self con- trol. She began mothering him and lifted herself, and partially lifted him. She stood with wet face, with one arm about his neck, and one hand on his breast. She glanced down at her platter, and lowered an arm to offer him some wine. Her arm bent a little backward and dimpled at the elbow, with the soft flexi- bility of a woman’s arm. Every move she gade wrought upon the priest. He won- dered desperately if it would be possible for them to live childlessly in Motobatl, but her very wealth of charm jeered at him. Her babies would be as dimpled and lovely as she. He could not touch the wine. They went together slowly to the hammock and sat. NOOK (C@