Adventure Magazine Cover — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

THE WOLF MASTER 45 “The walls of Kazan were stormed after much fighting and the Tatar dead filled the alleys. Some of the tribesmen broke through, I with them. The armored 6o- yare were all around—thick as flies in the slaughter yard. We tried to swim the Volga, but there were boats, and I was taken up by warriors of the Tsar who thought at first I was a Muscovite. In time men saw me who knew me for the Cossack who had fought on the wall. They should have cut me down, or blown me from a cannon. “Instead they put my legs in the rack and broke all the bones. Then they carried me across the river and flung me out on the plain. Eh, that was an evil thing. Wolves came and sat by me but did not tear me. I could not crawl. Toghrul rode up—he was then a hunter of stags. He tied the ends of two saplings across his saddle-horn, and wove branches to make a drag. So he brought me to this valley, where he had his tent. “Hkh ma’al Why should a man want to live, when he can no longer ride? Yet I lived and in time could walk with a staff, as yousee. Heit was, my brother, who car- ried to the valley for refuge a Cossack maiden, a captive of the Tatars.” Omelko’s grim head sank on his breast and he sighed. ‘Nay, I was no longer a hero, no longer a Cossack! Of what avail my life? She would not leave me, when the way was open. She was the daughter of an ataman, and Nada was her child—she dying at that time.” From the sunken eyes of the old Cossack tears crept down his cheeks and he clasped his staff in gaunt fingers that still were powerful. “How shall I tell this tale, sir brother? She was in all things like Nada, with a temper like a sword edge and a heart that was like a very flame of love. She knew many legends of my people that brought me joy in the hearing, and before Nada was born she wrote them down in that book, and taught me the letters. Now I—who am no priest—can trace out the legends and many a time have I read them over to Nada.”’ For a while he was silent, his eyes travel- ing from the sword to the picture of the saint on the wall. To Kirdy there was nothing strange in the life of this girl, who had grown up tended by Tatars, who had hunted stag, and had dared to journey alone to Moscow to listen to the talk of Chris- tians and bring back to Omelko tidings of the world across the river. “God provided for Nada,’”’ Omelko said finally, ‘‘or she would have been lost to me. This was the way of it. I dreamed one night that an old man came into my choutar and sat by the fire, saying, ‘Omelko, my son, your suffering has been great.’ “Then, in the dream, my guest rose up, saying, ‘I give you power over my children the gray friends, the wolves. They will hunt for you, and you shall be koshevoz of the wolves.’ ”’ Omelko nodded at the gilded picture upon the wall. “Surely that was Saint Ulass! Now, hearken, my brother—I woke up, and went to the door. It stood open, and all about the choutar wolves were sitting, like dogs. “T saw, in the clear moonlight, the leader of the pack, a gray wolf with a part of his tail torn away. Often since then the great pack has come down from the heights, pass- ing through the Wolky Gorlo. And then I say, ‘A merry chase to you, brothers!’ ” Kirdy pondered this in silence, and Nada met his eyes. “Tt is true, my Falcon,” she said, “‘ that the wolves have not harmed this choutar. At times, when I have hunted, I have seen the pack running about me. The Tatars be- lieve that my father has power over the wolves, and they will not enter this place.” At this Omelko shook his head, and reached for his glass. “Nay, it is the good Saint Ulass who has protected you, my daughter. It is—” he added to Kirdy with a smile—“‘to keep the tribesmen in awe that I wear that wolf’s muzzle. Now, my Falcon, let us drink. Glory to God!” “For the ages of ages!’’ CHAPTER XI Only a ghost, sitting on a tomb, enjoys the garlands of dead flowers. PERSIAN PROVERB m=aJAYS passed and Kirdy fought “| down his impatience to be in the #| saddle. One sunny afternoon he #8) heard the whisper of freshets re- leased from the barrier of ice, eating their way down into the valley from the heights, and he groaned, clasping his head in his hands. By now whatever trace Otrépiev COnuclboooks. CO