Adventure Magazine Cover — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

The Witch of Aleppo ransom thou wilt of the Grand Signior, and it will be granted if the hand of an unbe- liever is not laid upon the singing girl. Aye, even to two thousand pieces of gold, it will be granted.” The lidless eyes of Balaban blinked shrewdly, as he tried to gain a glimpse of the letter that one of the men brought to Demid presently. Two thousand pieces of gold would tempt most men. ‘“‘The price is not sufficient,” responded the Cossack chief, who was scanning the parchment. It was not, as he had hoped, a pass for the janizaries, nor did it contain directions as to the route to be taken to Aleppo. But it gave Demid food for thought, in that it contained a veiled reproach from Mustapha because Sidi Ahmad had not sent the reve- nues from the captured provinces of Ar- menians or the tax from the caravans for the last year. Mustapha said that a general campaign was to be undertaken against the war- scarred nations of Christian Europe in the Spring—that he, Mustapha, had broken the power of the Cossacks, and concluded a secret treaty with the nobles of Poland by which the Poles were excused from paying tribute to Constantinople, so that the way into the cities and monasteries of Hungary and Russia was opened. “Gold,” muttered Demid angrily to him- self. ‘When will gold buy peace? Nay, the point of the sword is surer.”’ The letter concluded with an order for Sidi Ahmad to set out from Aleppo over the mountain passes to the Black Sea, as soon as the snow melted, with horses and men _and the revenues of the Sultan. As surety of the favor of Mustapha to the first of the pashas, the singing girl was sent. “The Sidi must be a strong prince,” Demid reflected, “for the Grand Signior uses soft words with him. Aye, and Aleppo is far from Constantinople. That is well, for us.” singing girl did not appear to look at Demid, but under the long lashes they studied covertly the face of the young chief. In it she wished to read her fate. And it piqued her that she could read little. Demid had dismissed every one else from the women’s cabin; he had stationed the two blacks on guard again at the broken THE kohl-darkened eyes of the 23 lattice, and now stood looking out of the oval port, apparently listening to the sounds on the upper deck where the captives were being chained to the rowers’ benches. The girl, too, heard the uproar of the slaves who were being freed from their chains. Her eyes, over the silk veil, were stoic, although the flowered robe quivered where her heart beat thuddingly. Suddenly the muscles of her slender arms tensed, and her eyes snapped angrily. Demid had reached out swiftly and grasped both her wrists under the wide sleeves. A moment she strained, gasping, and then, feeling the power of the man, ceased strug- gling. From the limp fingers of one hand he took a dagger that had been hidden by the sleeve. “Vah shatir—captain of thieves! Prince of hyenas, father of treachery!’’ she cried. “Can a dog change his hide? Sh, wah! He can not. Nor can a son of ill-born robbers stay his fingers!” Between those same muscular fingers Demid snapped off the blade of the poniard and tossed the steel out of the port, re- turning to Lali the hilt, set with sapphires and gold bands, “Keep all your jewels, singing girl,’ he observed, ‘‘for the time will come when you will need them.” ‘“‘And how, my ruffian?” “To make you beautiful.” “Boar of the steppe, what know ye of beauty? I have heard of your people; they spend their days digging in the ground for roots, or feeling hens for eggs. Aye, Kazaks, vagabonds, eaters of filth—ye ride two on a horse, ye suck the juice of-one weed and swallow the smoke of another!” Her tongue was barbed with the caustic wit of the seraglio women, and yet Lali was not a woman in years. Robbed of her dagger, she resorted to her readiest weapon, but even this failed her for very rage when Demid ran his hand over her girdle and dress to satisfy himself that she had not a second weapon concealed about her. “You have put your hand upon me, O caphar—O, unbeliever! For that they will draw you on the stake with horses. I have seen it.” ‘“‘And what are your” The g:ay eyes of the Cossack gleamed from his dark face, and Lali caught her breath to study the splendid head of the warrior. He towered over her, unmoving, COMmMicloo S (©