Adventure Magazine Cover — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

142 “Tt don’t say nothing about the other. I guess we let the pretty ladies attend to him.” “T see. Which one?” The voice was level and quiet, almost indifferent, but Barret, curiously alive to the detail, saw the cords of Morgan’s neck tense and swell, and saw the tiny tremor in the smoke that curled up from his cigaret. The commisar licked his lips nervously and glanced again from one to the other, ‘Don’t make no difference to me. The order it says one American. You fellers should figure it out between you.” The beady black eyes gleamed malev- olently. Barret tried to speak, but the words refused to come. “Well?” whined the commissar impa- tiently. With horrible clearness it came to Barret that this was his chance: He had only to say the word, and life was his for the taking. “Come with me,” whined the commissar. “One of you. Don’t make no difference which.” Great beads of sweat stood out on Bar- ret’s forehead. Jerkily he rose to his feet, and as he did so glanced shamefacedly at his companion. “Atta boy,’’ said Morgan. It was the look, the sardonic lift of the mouth, the glint of cynicism in the eyes. Barret sat down heavily on his cot, his mind a queer mixture of shame and white- hot rage. “Well,” announced the commissar, “TI ain’t got no more time to waste. If you can’t settle it you'll have to draw for it. Don’t make no difference to me a-tall. One American I anyhow get.” To Barret it seemed as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest. The responsibility was no longer his. He glanced defiantly at Morgan. “Right away I come back,” the com- missar went on. “In a hat I put a pass- port and a warrant of execution. You fellers draw for it. One American I any- how get.” The door slammed behind him. Morgan leaped to his feet. “You fool,’ he shouted. ‘‘Why in didn’t you go with him. Now I’ve got to fix it up for you.” Barret was strangely calm. “Fix it up?” he asked. ‘‘How?”’ “Listen. A warrant of execution has Adventure the Soviet seal on it. When he tells you to draw, feel for that seal, and draw the other one. Understand? Draw the paper with- out the seal. That’ll be the passport.” “But 9 - “Don’t be a —— fool. missar myself, and I know.”’ “But a passport is sealed too. was.” Morgan made a gesture of irritation. “Not until after you’ve signed it your- self. They put the seal on after. The paper without the seal is the passport.” ‘““‘But—but, Morgan, I can’t do that you know,” he protested weakly. “Vou’ve got to,’ the other told him fiercely. ‘Don’t be any more trouble to me than you have to.” But “Listen. You’re a respectable guy. Got lots of friends, money, a good home. What am I? Just a bum. Who’ll miss me? I was a com- Mine Nobody. What’s life to me anyhow? A rotten, stinking game. I'll be well out of it.” Life seemed very sweet to Barret at that moment. ‘““‘We—we'll see,’”’ he muttered weakly. “Atta boy,” said Morgan and sat down limply on his cot. ‘Got a cigaret?”’ With trembling eagerness Barret supplied ae and crossed over to hold a light for him. organ noted the pathetic attempt to be of service with an ironical grin. ‘“‘What did he mean by—letting the ladies attend to it,’ he asked nervously to break the constraint which had suddenly sprung up between them. ‘“‘You know what he said, ‘the pretty ladies.’ ”’ Morgan waved his cigaret airily. “Oh, nothing.” ‘“‘Go on,” insisted Barret, “‘tell me.” “Oh, just a way they have. These girls you see around a commissar’s office. Fur- trimmed clothes, boots, bobbed hair. Good looking. If they weren’t the commissar wouldn’t have ’em around. Believe me I know.” ‘“‘But what do they have to do with it?” “Why they stick around and dance, drink, flirt with the soldiers—it’s a great life, being a commissar. Once in a while when there’s a prisoner to be shot he’s turned over to them.” “You mean they do the——” “The shooting? Sure. It seemed to amuse ’em. Queer taste, Ill admit, but oO Conn CloOOLKKS CO