Adventure Magazine Cover — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

“10 under the flowing k/alat, his supple muscles were like steel. Demid’s right arm moved only from the elbow, and—without indulging in the whirl- wind sword-play of the Cossacks—he rested his weight on his left leg. ‘Raise your weapon, Balaban,” he said suddenly, shifting his weight to his forward foot and engaging the other’s blade at close quarters. The Levantine’s answer was a snarl that changed to a grunt as he found the hand- guard of the vyataghan caught against Demid’s hilt and the two blades wedged together. In spite of his efforts to free his sword, he felt his weapon raised high over his head as the Cossack put forth his strength. “Now lower it,’ ordered Demid, and this time his lips curved in a smile. The two swords swept down in a wide arc, to the snow, and before Balaban could draw the yataghan clear the Cossack had planted his foot on it. Placing the hilt of his simitar against his chest, he moved forward until the point pricked the skin under the Levantine’s lower ribs, over the vitals. Perforce Captain Balaban released the hilt of his weapon and stepped back against the log pen. With nearly an inch of steel in him he stood quietly, without making a plea for his life. ‘“‘Have you heart, Balaban,” asked the chief of the Don warriors in a low voice, “‘to go on a venture with me, over the black water? Will you go against the galleys of the Turks? Have you lust for the feel of gold and the light of jewels? We seek a treasure.”’ “Why not?” Balaban was_ surprized. “Tf I said nay, you would skewer me, so— why not, say I?” ‘Your life will be short; I will see to that,” Demid promised. ‘You know ships and their ways and the paths of the sea. Idonot. If you go with me you will aid me to the utmost; but you will not be a slave. Some months of life you will earn for your- self, and Ostrog. Otherwise, seconds.” Balaban spat to one side, half closing his good eye. If the Cossacks were ven- turing on a raid of the Strait and Con- stantinople, he might fare badly. On the other hand, Demid had spoken of months in which to live. Balaban had been through enough tight places to be a fatalist. Much could happen in several months, particu- Adventure larly if he managed to get these Don Cos- sacks, who did not know one end of a galley from the other, into a sailing craft. If luck favored him and he could lead the ataman into the hands of the Moslems, why then his reward would be great. No longer could he remain in the Siech, and here was a way out. A moment ago he was doomed to tar and fire, while now “Take your steel out of my guts,” he growled. “I’m your man. Do you want me to Swear an oath?” “The ,’ observed Ayub who had come up in time to hear the last remarks, ‘would leap up and laugh if you took an oath! Nay, Demid, evil will come of this gallant. Ican face any man on a horse, but the sea is an unruly beast, look you—when it rears up there is no putting the whip to it. ‘‘We need the pair of them, Ayub. Put them under Togrukh’s wing; tell him he will walk to the Black Sea tied to the cart- tail if they escape. No blows for them, but death if a weapon is seen in their hands.” The Levantine shrugged. Under his breath he muttered a Turkish phrase— “Time will have another story to tell.” Demid caught the words and understood, being familiar with the Turkish and Tatar dialects; but he held his peace. With- drawing his sword point he wiped it on the Levantine’s girdle. The Cossacks, sus- pecting that their prisoners were about to be taken out of their hands, swept forward with a mutter of anger. “Back, dog-brothers,”’ ‘These men are mine.” “Back, pot-lickers,’ repeated Balaban with a malevolent grin. “Back to your stoves, Isay. We mean to wet our gullets, Ostrog and I.” Heedless of the uproar, he elbowed his way toward the wine casks, followed by the squat seaman, convinced of the truth that the warriots would not go against the word of Demid. ‘He keeps his head up,’ remarked the young ataman, following the progress of the renegade with his eyes. ‘‘Noble blood is in him somewhere. Hai—the Pleiades are low, and dawn is near. We must be across the open ice of the river before light cried Demid. ’ comes. It is time—time!”’ ‘“Time!”? One of the Don men caught the word. Balaban, standing at one of the open oO cComicloooks (©