Adventure Magazine Cover — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

The Witch of Aleppo that we should slice him but the mad fellow would not listen.” Ayub fell moody at this, and became silent as Michael cautioned the warriors to wrap their scabbards and take care to ride without noise as they approached the gate. “Our scabbards are leather and the boys have hunted Tatars often enough to stalk a gate without making a hub-bub,”’ he re- marked stiffly, “‘but as you are taking over the detachment, we are at command and will do as we are ordered.” “At command, little father,”’ repeated the Cossacks readily. But Michael “tndeistood that Ayub was offended. “Not so, Ayub,” he responded, against his better judgment. “You will be ataman as before, and I will guide you to the place.”’ They decided to leave one man with the spare horses—they had two to a warrior— at the base of the burial hill, a pistol-shot from the gate. A scout sent down toward the Bab el Nasr reported that the revelry within the gate had died down, and Michael reflected that the throngs of Moslem must have gone off to watch the procession at the castle. The Cossack who had eed as scout said that the guard had just been changed, and this meant the third hour of the night had been reached. They were to meet Demid at the beginning of the fourth hour. ‘“‘Time,’”? announced Ayub, prompted by Michael’s whisper. ‘‘Time to mount and go.” In the dense gloom under the trees the word was passed among the warriors. Here and there a pony stamped and a saddle creaked, then fell silence broken by the snuffiing of the horses which were restive after the long idleness. Ayub repeated his instructions in a low voice. They were to go down in column of threes, the new essaul in advance of the men, within hearing of Ayub and Michael who took Hassan with them. On approach- ing the gate the leaders would dismount and go forward with the Arab, and they would contrive to have the portal opened. At the first shout, or rattle of weapons, the essaul— the old warrior, Broad Breeches was to bring up his men on the gallop and rush the gate regardless of who stood in his path. As Ayub had said, the men from the Don descended the hill and walked their horses along the highroad without so much as a 59 rattle of a bridle chain or clink of a weapon. Yet Michael knew that by now their sabers were drawn. He wondered what Balaban was doing—Balaban who had sworn that time would bring his revenge—Balaban who had eyes and ears in every secret place, and in whose power Demid now stood. When the wall loomed up, he whispered to the sergeant to halt his men, and dis- mounted, feeling weariness in every fiber. The blood was pounding in his head and he had a mad desire to rush on the iron portal and shout, to end the suspense. Pulling himself together, he consulted with Hassan instead. That cool youngster pointed out that the gate was formed of open iron scroll-work, and offered to. creep up and try to turn the key in the lock on the inner side. Michael assented and the three made their way forward cautiously, keeping to the side of the highway where the glow of the lamp over the portal would not fall on them. They heard a half-dozen Moslems talking lazily on the other side, but no one was on watch at the threshold because Aleppo was barred in of nights and people of the countryside never approached the walls. The boy crept along the base of the wall and stood up, to thrust his arm slowly through the fretwork. A low whisper told Michael that the key was not in place. By mischance one of the guards hap- pened to look toward the gate, and made out the shadow of Hassan, cast by the lamp. “Kubar-dar! Take care! What is there?” The half-dozen janizaries hurried up on the other side and Michael drew back against the granite blocks of the gate pillar where he could not be seen. Hassan wisely kept his place. ‘“‘Allah be praised,” the boy cried loudly, “IT have come in time. The kazaks are hiding in the burial hill, where I went with the leper my father. I have come with the tidings. Take me to Sidi Ahmad that I may have a reward.” ‘Who art thou?” “Hassan, the Arab, who passed out two hours since. Be quick.” “Still thy crying, whelp.” The man laughed and Michael knew him to be the janizary who had smoked with the Arab in the seraz. As before the soldier reeked of forbidden liquor, and the key he COmiclboolks CO