Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

The Making of the Morning Star 69 Robert’s new-made mace, and with a mut- tered, “Saint Dunstan abet me!” went on. “Tiem four, and last, Sir Robert, by no means might I prevail against thee in com- bat, so do thou hew me down—would thou hadst chosen another weapon—and fail not. To make sport for these our captors I will rap thy ribs a time or two and e’en deal thee a buffet on the sconce.” , Drawing a deep breath, he tightened his grasp on his ax. ‘“‘And so—fare thee well, my lord.” It was a changed Will Bunsley that faced Robert, the merriment vanished from his blue eyes, his jaw set stubbornly. Whether Genghis Khan or Chepe Noyon had selected the archer to oppose him, Robert did not know. Probably they had singled out the two Franks for the duel, aware that Robert was more than a match for any man of Khar. And Robert, knowing that Will Bunsley was no match for him, took a step forward. “A true man are you,” he said, smiling, for he saw his way clear before him now. Will heaved up his ax hurriedly. “Nay, Master Robert, get thee to the work. One of us must fall upon the ling, and—what would it avail me to strive with thee? Come, lad, a few good blows——” ‘Aye,’ cried Robert and, striding foward, thrust aside the other’s weapon and gripped his shoulder hard. ‘We will show them how two Englishmen can bear arms. Shoulder to shoulder, bowman——”’ “What would ye, master? Ah, the good Christ aid us!” For Robert had turned and was walking toward the nearest Mongols, swinging his mace in widening circles. “Tis madness for both to die. ye of the maid Ellen——” ‘who would hold me a caitiff and rec- reant, to strike you down!” Robert sprang into the Mongols, who rose to meet him, growling and catching up their weapons. Steel ground against steel, and the great morning star swept clear a space about the knight. Will Bunsley thrust a quivering hand across his eyes, then leaped after his com- rade. His ax smashed down on the iron armor of the scattering Mongols and rose red, to flash down again until he gained Robert’s side. The warriors, who had started back in astonishment as the captives turned on them, closed in swiftly, making a circle Bethink about them. But Robert kept moving onward, and ever the iron flail kept clear a space before him, crunching into the heads and breasts of the men who leaped at him. The knight was making his last stand, and all the power of his long arms went into every sweep of the mace. The ring shifted and changed to a black knot that writhed and twisted and finally came to a halt near the standard, where Will went down veice- lessly and disappeared under the stamping feet. A man’s spine snapped lke a bent branch, and some one cried out: ‘“Subotai! Way for the Buffalo!’ The knot about Robert fell away as the warriors drew back, glaring and snarling at their victim—as dogs might leave the side of a stag half-pulled to earth. On his pony Genghis Khan had not stirred, although the beast snorted and stamped, a spear’s length from the struggle. Only the eyes of the old Mongol followed every move of the men below him. Robert reeled and steadied himself on his feet against Subotai’s rush. His breath was whistling from his lungs; both hands were slashed to the bone, and _ blood streamed from his forehead into his open mouth. Recognizing the warrior of the buffalo horns as the one who had sought him on the causeway, he swung up the morning star as the giant leaped forward. Instead of plunging on, Subotai halted, digging his heels into the earth. But Robert did not strike as he had expected, thus leaving himself open to a slash of the massive curved sword of the Mongol. The other warriors stood back to watch the two champions. This time Subotai rushed in earnest, head up and shield down, his lips snarling and his sword-arm swinging at his side. Both struck at once. The knight’s mace smashed the Mongol’s iron shield, and the sword swept the helm from Robert’s head, sending him back, staggering. “Hail” Subotai grunted and leaped in, slashing low. Robert could not parry the blow; instead of trying to do so he stepped forward, into the sweep of the sword. It bit into the mail on his side and thigh, snapping the steel links, and glanced down to the earth. The spiked knob smashed down on the Mongol’s chest, ripping off the iron plates and drawing blood in streams. Before Subotai could leap clear Robert dropped the COMmMiICLOOCkS.GO S|