Adventure Magazine Cover — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

146 any powers over the exalted Raja Muda.” It was a master speech and hit just the right note. The hadjis all nodded ap- provingly. Islam had been flattered by that reference; and this unbelieving Naza- rene had strange powers, they knew of old. The two pawangs disengaged themselves from the crowd and came forward eagerly— but with them was coming Ya Israng! Yates watched him uneasily out of the tail of his eye as he gave directions about the pump. Ya Israng had invited himself, appearing from nowhere out of the throng. The rajah was not making any objections to that volunteer but rather watching him with a curious and unfathomable expression on his face. Yates shrugged his shoulders cheerfully as lurid instances of the well known Malay treachery floated through his mind. The near presence of this enemy with an un- dying grudge was almost amusing! He would be creesed some time soon; the only point was, when? Ya Israng’s monkey face, peering at him furtively from behind the two pawangs, told him nothing. There was no nod of recognition, no gleam of hate, nothing. Yates decided that this was going to be no end of a show. Nothing would be done until an unseen hint from the rajah would give Ya Israng his cue. And then Well, it would be right after the “magic”’ on the crown prince. If the man died, Yates would feel Ya Israng’s creese in his back. If Muda recovered—and the salt pump was positive and quick in its effects— there might be a slim ghost of a chance to defend himself somehow. At least it would be left between himself and Ya Israng with his private grudge. The young Raja Muda was brought in from the mosque presently. He lay quite still on the couch, livid, gasping spas- modically, far gone. Yates saw that there was scant hope for him. Only, the native responded far more quickly than the white man to any kind of treatment. The critical point before dissolution had arrived now, he perceived. Young Yusuf’s body was utterly white and _ bloodless. Strychnin salts pumped in through a vein alone had power to sustain the nerves and give the heart something to work with in place of blood. “It is great magic, and thus is it done,” directed Yates as his coolies brought over Adventure the pump. “Bring thou here a bowl of clear water, Mat Panku—but it must have the dried ear of a bat im it,” he insisted earnestly. The pawang hastened off to prepare the bowl while Yates thought over all the rhythmic savage dances he knew of that would be sufficiently diabolical yet would operate the handle of that pump. A vision of the syncopated hop of the Navaho fire dance, seen ten years before, floated into his mind. “Thus one makes hobat-an with the magic thing of brass, Si-Pijak,” he said, showing the native that absurd leap of the Navaho buck, which yet rang true as the dance of wild men the world over. Si-Pijak, approving, caught on quickly. Yates, correcting with the utmost serious- ness a minor detail, caught a glance being exchanged between the rajah and some one behind him. Ya Israng was there! A tiny spark of ferocity, like a gleam on a seething coal, burned deep in his eyes as Yates moved carelessly to one side to show Si-Pijak that the handle of the brass thing must indeed move up and down as he danced. Ya Israng’s hand was on his creese, his body bent over them, close. It needed but the flicker of the rajah’s eyelash for him to strike. Yates kept his nerve and paid him no attention whatever. “Now there will be a letting of bad blood,” he said, pointing to Yusuf’s emaci- ated wrist when all was ready and the pump tube in the bowl. It was an unfortunate remark, a tiny slip that nearly cost him his life; for when Si-Pijak severed the great vein of the arm only a thin, watery fluid trickled out feebly. A murmur of disillusionment, disblief, went around. ‘The white man had lied! Yates moved over handy to Mat Panku’s creese, and— “Shove in the nozzle here,’”’ he com- manded hastily, pointing to the severed end of the vein. Again the strained attention of all was concentrated on the patient. There was yet more to this magic. A crisis had been passed without Ya Israng’s creese termi- nating everything with the finality of one sudden stroke. - Si-Pijak began a pagan and un-Chris- tian dance with the pump handle. Yates MICLOOOK C@ inn