Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

38 Thorne considered her story and went to the heart of the matter with a word. “Do these Easterlings cherish you, Mis- tress Joan?” “My father ever dealt with them fairly, for such was his way. They have been kind to me. Aye, they be not evil-minded, though foul of feature. But command them I may not, for they be changeful and timid as the wild creatures in whose skins they clothe themselves.” “Faith—” Thorne smiled ruefully—‘‘they appear to be Christians in one respect. They hang their foes to the yard arm as readily as any ship master.” Joan shook her head. “Tis their way of burial. They leave their dead fastened to the branches of trees, fully clad, with weapons bound to them. So they made shift to do with the thieves of the pinnace, before they towed the vessel out and set her adrift.” Through Thorne’s brain passed the thought that this was not the method of burial Peter would prefer. It was clear to him that Peter and himself stood near to the edge of a grave, of whatever nature it might prove to be. Yet his curiosity was all for the maiden and the fate in store for her. “What plan have you, child?” he asked. “How will you contrive to leave the Ice Sea and return to your home?” She seemed surprized that ie took thought of her. “Why—the skiff may put in at the Ward- house before the ice floes gird us in.” But she added, less cheerfully— “T have no kindred awaiting me.’ The armiger was not minded to dally over the situation. “Who is the chief of these folk? Have him in, and let him speak his mind. If it is his intention to compass my death, I will e’en take him with me to the nether world.” Placing his back against the fireplace he waited until the girl, after a moment’s hesitation called softly. “Tuon, hulde na.” And after a moment there appeared in the doorway the same Lap who had rowed out to the Edward. Tuon’s stocky shoulders were covered by a wolf skin, and the empty muzzle of the beast leered at them over the broad, greased-coated muzzle of the savage whose yellow, pointed teeth resembled greatly the fangs of the wolf. Adventure Even his hands were covered with fur mittens, and Thorne reflected that these Laps must have been the beasts that Peter glimpsed on the lookout height. He sus- pected that beside the warmth of the furs, they availed themselves of these strange garments to hunt down other animas, re- membering the Lap that, dressed in a deer’s skin and antlers, he had taken for a stag the day before. Tuon walked forenid warily, peering about him as if entering a cage. ‘Put down your weapons, sir.” Joan pointed at Thorne’s pistol and sword. “Nay, I'll yield me to no savage. Let him take the weapons, an he will.” : Tuon sidled closer, several of his com- panions following him into the hall. Thorne was aware of a strong animal scent, of foul flesh and sweating hair. His gorge rose and he clapped hand to the hilt of his sword, having no mind to be made prisoner by such as they. Joan’s dark eyes widened in alarm, and Tuon, sensing the rising ex- citement of the Christians, became uneasy: At this instant Peter awoke. stared at the strange beings who were moving toward Thorne in the vague light of the hall, saw the slender girl in the sea cloak, the fire ruddy on her tawny hair, peered at Thorne who stood as if turned to stone. Springing up, he drew a blanket over his head and rushed toward Joan Andrews be- fore Thorne could speak. Arriving, as he judged, before her, his eyes being swathed in the cloth, he fell on his knees. ‘A’? ——’s mercy, if thou be’st troll or Ellequeen, spare an honest shipman. Thou’st put my mate under a spell, so that he speaks not nor moves an eye. Have mercy on a sorry wight that never harmed hair of thy head.” The spectacle of the giant seaman muffled in a blanket aroused the interest of the Laps. It was clear to them that he in- tended no violence to the maiden they had taken into their protection; in fact, they must have suspected that he was performing some ritual. No arrow was loosed at him, and when he withdrew the blanket cautiously he found Thorne smiling at him broadly, and Joan Andrews broke into a rippling laugh at sight of his red and foolish countenance. Laughter is a key that unlocks many a COnnICLaoOe He sat up, CO