Adventure Magazine Cover — page 177: what you’re looking at

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

The Edge of the Simitar cool, the men of races that are capable of great endurance, and all were buoyed up by very powerful emotions. A runner had gone forward, a Somali, who actually skipped up the trail, using his long spear as a staff, and disappeared along the ridge and down the slope to the gabbah, a low-vaulted tomb whose arches, opening to the major points of the compass, made it possible to signal to boats at sea without much chance of discovery from the shore. The excitement, the activity, the extraor- dinary stimulation to mind and body, which Cohusac had experienced in the last week had made a revolution in his physique. He was extremely light. Not much strength was required to lift his weight. With the aid of a staff, therefore, and an occasional helping hand, he managed to reach the top of the slope in safety. He felt heartburn; the blood throbbed painfully in his thin neck; his head ached with strain—but he had surmounted the ridge! As he lifted himself over the razor edge of the crater’s rim and looked down upon the silver sweep of the precipitous slope falling straight into the sea two thousand feet be- low him, he gave a cry and staggered with vertigo. It was the first time he had looked down from a height since that fatal day when the tracer bullet had lodged in his stomach. All the horror came back to him; his head filled with blood; his senses swam. He reeled toward the precipice. Abu Khalil, who had turned his head at the cry and saw the hunchback lunging helplessly toward destruction, instinctively crowded close to the cliff, grunting: “Tt is written! Bas!” But Miriam rushed toward Cohusac and clasped him in her arms. Her momentum and Cohusac’s sagging weight brought them to the edge, where Miriam stood for a moment swaying but holding tight to the Frenchman. After a while she caught her breath; her nerves steadied; and two Abys- sinians drew her back. From this point downward Cohusac could progress only by keeping his gaze turned inward to the wall that rose above his left hand, halting every little while to regain his strength and courage. He was badly shaken and sick at heart with secret shame; but it was a fear utterly beyond his control, and when his gaze was drawn with a horrible fascination to the abyss that fell away at his feet, the path being no more 167 than four feet wide, all the strength of his will could not prevent him from involun- tarily recoiling and clinging to the rocks. The character of the rocks which he clutched for support added to his terror, for they were rotten and crumbled and broke away at a touch. Once he dislodged a mass which shot down the slope, gathering speed and volume as it roared its way to the bottom, sending startling echoes crashing and echo- ing from slope to slope. That time every one crouched close to the wall, praying fer- vently; but when the danger had passed they cursed Cohusac with great earnestness and fluency, prodding him with their sticks to urge him more rapidly along the path. “By Allah,” said Abu Khalil savagely, “Sf you are the cause of so much as one broken wrist, we will hurl you down!’’ Cohusac arrived at the bottom of the slope in an exhausted and dejected condi- tion. Sinking upon the pebbly beach, he buried his face in his hands, trembling. It was minutes before he recovered his com- posure; but this weakness served him a very good turn. Every one either laughed or sneered at him, and it was tacitly accepted among all these men of intrigue and of war that he wasa hopeless weakling and a coward. The bay curved like a crooked finger with the point toward Africa. Drenched in silvering light, the irregular, volcanic slopes had the appearance of a scene on the surface of the moon. As Cohusac raised his face and studied the scene at first he saw no signs of life except the little party which he had accom- panied. The sea twinkled with light; the land seemed like the scum on molten lead. Along the pebbled beach were many lumps of brain coral, weirdly suggestive of skulls and weathered bones. In this scene of magnificent desolation, all at once a small figure appeared before Cohusac’s searching gaze. It seemed to emerge from the moonlight, though in reality it had been standing there immobile, watching the approach of the strangers. At length as Cohusac gained strength, he rose on his staff and limped closer to the figure. It proved to be a wrinkled, weather- beaten old man, naked except for a loin cloth and a small turban, engaged in the occupation of catching sharks. A stake was driven firmly in the beach behind him, serving as an anchor when he NOOK 1 @)