Adventure Magazine Cover — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

THE WOLF MASTER gray brothers, yet these words stirred the interest of the young warrior. “They hunt, aye,” he said. pack is like another.” “But that is the great one, from the heights. Often it passes through the Wolky Gorlo. Its leader is of large size with part of his tail torn off.’ Kirdy knew now how the gorge had been named, probably by Tatars who had reason to fear the hunger-maddened packs of the steppe, especially in winter. He wondered why Toghrul and Karabek slept on quietly in their felt tent by the lean-to. If the pack were approaching the gorge it would be best to light fires— For a while he listened. The quavering note of the pack had changed, had dwindled and risen again savagely, and now seemed to come from a new quarter and to resemble the high-pitched shouts of men. “The gray friends,’”” Omelko’s voice pro- claimed, ‘have met riders—many men. They will not pass through the gorge.” But Kirdy, who had been putting on his boots and belt, had closed the door, thrust- ing Karai inside. Seeking out the bay stallion, he saddled him in the darkness and was ready to mount when he noticed a man peering in at the shed entrance. After a moment he recognized Toghrul. “O Kazak,” the old Tatar complained, ‘is the night so long that thou must even groom thy horse before the stars have set?”’ He grunted when Kirdy mounted, and he saw the youth was fully clad and armed. “Take heed!’ he muttered. ‘The Nogais are on the move.” “Whither?” ‘“‘Am Tan eagle to look down from heights, or a dog to smell the trails? One of their paths runs to the right of the gorge as far distant as two arrow flights. I will go with thee.” “Stay with the horses—thou!”’ Leaving Toghrul muttering, the Cossack rode up the gorge, avoiding the drifts. The going was heavy, but the high wind had swept stretches almost clear and the light was good. Half an hour later he came out on higher ground and reined in to search the neighboring knolls with his eyes. Presently he saw what he expected to find—a tiny figure on a distant rise, no more than a dark speck that might have been a sitting wolf or a stone except for the glint “But one 4I of light when the moon’s gleam struck a polished spear-tip slung on the Tatar’s back. Avoiding the watcher, Kirdy trotted down into a nest of gullies where the charger labored through drifts. He judged that he was well behind the sentry when he came on a broad trail stamped down by a score of ponies. The warrior with the spear still sat on his eminence and Kirdy refrained from stalking him, knowing that more Tatars would come along the trail presently —if the sentry had not been withdrawn. As soon as he heard hoofs, he wheeled the stallion and began to trot toward the river. Men approached from behind and a deep voice spoke at his elbow. “Is the horse lame, that thou hast fallen behind the trail breakers?” “Yok,” Kirdy made answer. ‘No, I have word for the ¢i-soulfan. Where rides he?” In the depths of the gully the darkness was impenetrable, except for the shimmer of starlight on the heights above them. Kirdy heard a pony trotting beside him. “The lord,” the same voice made answer, “rides with us. What word dost thou bring?” “IT have steel,’’ Kirdy promised grimly, “‘to crop ears that be over-long.”’ The invisible rider snarled, a saddle creaked, and Kirdy reined a little to the side. But the tribesman swallowed his anger. “Bil maida! Surely thou art a servant of the Khaghan?”’ Kirdy left it to the other’s imagination whether or not he might be a servant of the Tsar. And he drew aside to wait for the leader of the clan. It would not do to ride on, out of the protecting gully. The Ta- tars, having encountered him going in the same direction, had no reason to suspect him. It could hardly enter their minds that a stranger would appear at that hour be- tween their advance and the main body— a stranger who spoke their language and asked for their leader. The sheer daring of Kirdy’s action protected him, so far. Ponies trotted past, and occasional riders came close to peer at him, and to hear him ask again for the #¢i-soulfan. His nostrils filled with the odor of sheepskins, of mutton grease and sweat-soaked leather. These men had come far that night and, judging by the scattered words that reached him, were bound for the river. NOOK C©@