Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

28 ico Adventure in Bokhara. Ya bunnayi—O little son, to- morrow we climb the. Sialak.” In the minstrel’s dark eyes was something like concern for the youth who, towering half a head above him, he addressed as his littleson. Yet when these words had passed he withdrew into his cloak of silence and sat for hours on his saddle cloth without turning hand to his lute or lifting his voice in song. And that night the heat of the plains was tempered just a bit by a long breeze from the north. Robert sniffed it as he lay outstretched on his cloak, studying the canopy of stars, and though he thought surely it must be fancy, the breeze seemed to bear with it the tang of the salt sea and wet rocks. They made a long stretch the next day, and Bunsley complained that the Moslems hemmed him in as if he were part of the treasure of loot they were guarding. Other caravans made way for Inalzig’s standard, and all through the day they drew nearer to a line of peaks that had lifted from the skyline two sunrises before. The wind whipped and buffeted them as they ate their rice and dates and mutton that evening in the very shadow of bare slopes that flung back the red glory of the sunset. Robert had studied the line of mountains carefully, to pick out the pass that might let them through; he had seen cavalcades of hurrying riders sweep up to one point in the foot-hills and immediately pass from view. When the last shaft of red light vanished from the tallest of the peaks—the one streaked with tiny spots of something that gave back the glitter of the sun—darkness settled like a cloak upon the serais where the caravans had halted for the night. The smoke of the dung fires was not to be seen, and the glow of the flames spread upon bearded faces and lines of picketed beasts. This was the signal for Inalzig to order his men to saddle again, and four of them came and grinned at the two Franks before ranging themselves on either side. They went forward at a trot until a line of camels, grunting protest at the night march, slowed them to a hand pace. So strong was the illusion of darkness that Robert felt that they were entering the breast of the hills. High rock walls closed in on them presently. By the echo of the hoofs on stones he judged that the cliffs were sheer and immense. When torches appeared ahead of him, he found that he could not begin to see the top of the cafion walls. At places great boulders encroached on the narrow pass, leaving no more than a bridle way. The muffled voices and the uproar of the camels ahead sent the echoes leaping from side to side, to diminish to whispers drowned by the gusts of wind. “Master Robert,” quoth Will, “did the minstrel say that we would fall in with a company of dead lords, and ride with King Cesar and roguish Alexander—ha, St. Dunstan aid us!” The echoes caught up his words and shouted them to the sky— “‘Alexander—Alexander—aid us-—aidl” “Methinks this is the place.” Will lowered his voice to a whisper. And— “Methinks this is—the place—the place!’ The wind-borne whisper passed overheacl. Will fell to pattering what prayers he could muster on the moment, mixed with lusty curses on the paynims who had led him into such a stronghold of demons. ‘The cliffs repeated back his mutterings. and garbled the curses with the prayers so that presently he fell into a gloomy silence. ‘The way twisted interminably, and they had to edge past the camels, which had been halted at one side while their riders, apparently, went forward. The ponies shied at the smell of the gaunt beasts, and presently the word came back to dismount. As he pressed after the torches that flared and smoked in the gusts of air, Robert noticed that he was splashing through cold water. Reaching down one hand, he dis- covered that a cut on his forefinger smarted keenly; and, tasting the water, he found it salt. Will merely shook his head when this was called to his attention. “Aye, tall brother,’ he pointed out, ‘““where water is salt, there a sea must be. What sea lies within the desert—save the Styx? Nay, we will sup wi’ Satan and bed down wi’ the ghosts this night. Seest thou yonder writing? How reads it?” Glancing where the yeoman’s finger pointed, Robert noticed first the portion of a ruined wail stretching athwart the pass, then a row of characters carved in the side of the cliff some distance over-his head. The words were not Latin or Arabic, and he could make nothing of them; but a COMICLOOCkKS. GO