Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

O27. waist, sword in hand. Four of the Ostiaks snarled at him, and rushed through the eddying smoke. They had thrown their spears and wielded knives or clubs, and Thorne ran the first one through the body before they realised the length of his sword. Then a thin man came forward, armed with the shank-bone of some animal. He wore a woman’s leather skirt and his long black hair hung to his shoulders, over a kind of crude armor—so Thorne judged it to be. A multitude of iron images were suspended on cords slung from neck and waist. These images were of dogs and sheep and birds, crudely wrought, but cov- ering his emaciated body completely. Thorne remembered that this leader of the Ostiaks had been in the very path of the cannon’s discharge, but had come through unharmed. “So you are for your long home, my iron rogue,” he gibed, for it was his way to talk when steel was out. He stepped forward and thrust at the Ostiak’s side. But his blade seemed to pass through air, or the loose tunic of the strange man, who screamed at him and struck with the bone club. Thorne would have been brained if he had not ducked instinctively, the club smashing down on his shoulder blade. He recovered for a second thrust, but the old native glided away from him, and disap- peared under the waist cloth. The armiger sought for him along the rail, but saw him presently running over the ice. Turning quickly, he was just in time to ward the knife of an Ostiak who had crept up from behind. Slashing at the throat of this newest antagonist, he sprang after the man of the iron apron, seeing that the few surviving tribesmen were fleeing in as many different directions. “Shoot him!”’ he cried to Kyrger, who had been watching the annihilation of the remaining foemen with interest. ‘Believing that Thorne was aided by su- pernatural powers, it had not occurred to the Samoyed to join in the mélée. Now he shook his head. “Shaman menkva,” he grunted. “A wiz- ard and a devil.” It would have been quite useless to send an arrow after a wizard, Kyrger knew. Had not his friend and the wizard tried to slay each other and failed? How then could Kyrger be expected to slay the shaman? Adventure Thorne swore under his breath and started in pursuit of the Ostiak. The lanky shaman seemed to float over ice ridges and rocks, his long hair flying out behind, his iron tunic rattling. Gaining the shore, he shrieked at his dogs and set to work to tie the second team by a leather thong to the first sled. When this was done he hopped into the rear Sled, cracked his whip and glided off as the beasts dug their claws into the trail and strained at the traces. The sleds picked up speed and presently whirled out of sight in a smother of snow, the shaman peering back at his pursuer, his pointed teeth gleaming between writhing lips. Thinking of Joan and Peter bound in the camp, Thorne settled down grimly to the trail. His heavy boots made clumsy goinz on the hard surface and the cries of the wizard and the snapping of the whip drew farther away from him. Kyrger had lingered on the Confidentia to visit each of the wounded Ostiaks and when he dropped from the ladder Durforth’s ill fated ship had added to her crew of dead men. CHAPTER XV DARKNESS B*Y THE fire that Kyrger had built, Thorne found Peter stretched like a stout log in the snow, his arms bound to his side, and a blue bruise swelling in his tangle of red hair. He was still breathing, and Thorne dragged him into the Samoyed’s sledge, covering him up with the skin of the white bear to keep him from freezing to death. Joan was gone; so were the dogs and their master, and the reindeer. After a little Kyrger appeared and took in the scene with a comprehensive glance. As best he could Thorne explained to the attentive hunter that they must follow the dog sleds. All other matters must wait until he had set Joan free from the creature in the leather apron. “Sinym — sinym thusind,”’ muttered Kyrger nodding assent, for he saw that the outlander was very angry. ‘‘Young sister— the pursuit of blood atonement.”’ He lifted his head and called shrilly, and Thorne saw the two reindeer appear from the nearest thicket, munching at the branches as they came. They had been driven off by the skaman or had run away COnniclaoe (©