Adventure Magazine Cover — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

The Witch of Aleppo 7 from the church tower the chimes of Christmas rang. forth. .Ayub, rendered thirsty by the long oration, sallied out with the councillors to the wine kegs that had made their appearance on the muster field. IT THE GALLOWS BIRDS HEN the bells of the church ceased ringing the snow no longer fell, and it was seen that the center square of the Siech was filling rapidly with warriors from the barracks. Although the muster-drum had not been beaten, the orderly of the camp scribe had had a thrashing at the hands of the Don men, and his tongue was loosened. The cooks were kicked up, grunting, and kindled fires under still warm caldrons wherein were quarters of sheep and sides of beef; as if they had been summoned by the drum, the older warriors appeared and headed for the casks, wiping their mus- taches. In their hands they bore beakers and nuggins and broken dippers, and soon the gurgle of corn-brandy was heard as clearly as the crackle of the flames, where fresh fires were sending sparks whirling up toward a cold and star-lit sky. The more inexperienced who came late were fain to gather the liquor in caps or cupped fists; and the youngest of them were sent to pull down the stalls of the Jews to throw on the flames. Soon a dense throng of warriors gathered around the balalaika players and the six-foot youngsters who were beginning to dance the Cosachka on the hard-packed snow. They leaped and crouched by the red: flames, casting off their long coats, their scalp-locks flying in the wild swing ‘of the dance of the Ukraina, and the watchers put hands on hips and moved booted feet restlessly as the rhythm of it got into their veins. They asked the sointk who had been first on the scene how the vodka and brandy had come hither. “On the ataman ’s—Demid’s—sledges. He drove down the river in the storm, from Kudak where he had been to bend the forehead to Ileana, granddaughter of Rurik. Eh, he must be hot with wine, for he promised the maid he would find ransom for Rurik.” Beating in the head of a fresh cask with a smith’s hammer, the officer added re- flectively: ‘He has called a squadron of the Don men to horse, and he will not take more than that. Because he says we others are ox- tails, fit to beat at flies, and he is going south, beyond the frontier.” | “Where, then?” “To the most likely, because he is young and mad. He will not say how, since there are spies in the Siech.” ‘Spies? Not to be thought of!” ‘“‘Well, the Sultan has eyes and ears north of the frontier, by which he knows our strength and our plans. How else did they cut us up last Summer and truss up Rurik like a sheep.” There was no answer to this, and the warriors began to sample the new keg. Always when a war party went out, they had a carouse, and the setting out of the Donskot was apt to be memorable. The wailing of the fiddles rose against the note of the wind, and the thudding feet of the dancers. Word came presently from the church that the priest had been buried and they hastened to drink off a cup to the sturdy brother who had left them. “Colonel Ayub had sworn he will bring back new garments for the images and jewels for the ikons. What days! Our church is like a jackal’s hole——’”’ ‘“‘“Aye, and the Turkish mosques shine hke harlots——” “That is not the worst of it, sir brothers. These mosques, what are they? May the fiends spit on me if they are not Christian churches taken by the Moslems, who rubbed out the holy pictures on the walls. So it is with Saint Sophia, in the Imperial City,* so it is with the Holy Sepulcher.”’ They muttered angry assent, hanging their heads, for the Cossacks were sel- dom free from brooding; their moods were born of the great steppe, grim in the long Winter, palpitating and mirthful in the brief Summer. “What days!”’ assented the sotnik, glaring about him. “Even in the Siech a war party must set out at night, or spies would bear word to the Sultany And now that Demid is setting forth, who is there to smoke out the spies?” “Let us make Demid our koshevoil”’ shouted one of the dancers. ‘Even a wolf *Constantinople. cCOmiclbook (©