Adventure Magazine Cover — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

Ti White Falcon and the false Dmitri Harold Lamb’s N. ew COMPLETE NOVEL of the Csik Tie WOLF MASTER I’ve been to Roum, and I’ve been to Rome, Through the Black Mountains, On the White Sea! My hat is my house-top, my saddle’s my home— Hai-a—come away with me! SONG OF THE COSSACK WANDERERS HE streets of the village were deserted. On every hand deep snow covered the steppe; even the thatched roofs of the cot- tages were blanketed in white. It was old snow, that, on the roofs and the plain. And, stretching in every direction from the cluster of dwellings and stables, tracks were to be seen. Tracks of men and horses, of carts and wide, clumsy tracks that bit deep into the gray coverlet of the steppe. A throng of men, a multitude of horses, had left their traces around the village. But the painted doors of the taverns were shut and barred; the horn windows of the cottages showed no gleam of light, though it was the dull twilight of a midwinter’s day. It was a time of trouble, early in the sev- enteenth century. And to the good people of this village in the steppe, trouble had come indeed. ‘Their faces pressed against the windows, they listened to the muttering growl of cannon and musketry in the dis- tance. The dogs in the stable-yards barked half- heartedly at the sound of approaching “The Wolf Master,” copyright, 1926, by Harold Lamb. horses. ‘Three Cossacks, plying their whips on spent ponies, galloped up to the post tavern. The youngest, who rode in ad- vance of the others, reined in at the door and pounded on it with a pistol butt. “Hat chalambousdar—Hi, tather of a thousand slaves! Horses—give us fresh horses!” A blur of faces was visible at the window overhead, but no answer was returned to the impatient rider. The dogs that had clus- tered around to yap at him gave back sud- denly. Like a shadow drifting over the snow, a gray borzoi, or wolfhound, that had been following the young Cossack in the white svitka, turned into the tavern yard. Its ears were pricked toward the man and the horse, and only by a soundless snarl did it acknowledge the growling of the village dogs. Its massive chest and arched ribs were mud-stained and it moved with the effortless ease of the wolf that had sired it. A second Cossack now entered the yard and dismounted from a foundered ponv that stood nose to earth, legs planted wide. “Aside, Kirdy,” he grunted. “I will deal with the dog-souls.”’ The slender warrior in the white coat gave place to the newcomer who strode to the door and thrust his shoulder against the painted panel. giant, hatless, with a long broadsword strapped to his wide shoulders. Under the 2 Copyright, 1926, by The Butterick Publishing Company 111 the United States and Great Britain. All rights reserved. CO I HNOOKS) (LN He was little less than a. C©