All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

O’Keefe. All flippancy was gone, rarely did his sense of humor reveal itself in any of his answers. He was like a cautious swords- man, fencing, guarding, studying his op- ponent; or rather, like a chess-player who ‘ keeps sensing some far-reaching purpose in the game; alert, contained, watchful. - Al- ways he stressed the power of our surface races, their multitudes, their solidarity. Their questions were myriad. What were our occupations? Our system of govern- ment? How great were the waters? . The land? Intensely interested were they in the world war, querying minutely into its causes; its possible outcome. Lugur was curiously silent, but at some of our answers I caught his sneer and saw behind it—Von Hetzdorp! In our weapons their interest was avid. And they were exceedingly minute in their examination of us ds to the ruins which had excited our curiosity; their position and surroundings—and if others than ourselves might be expected to find and pass through their entrance! At this I shot a glance at Lugur. He did not seem unduly interested. I wondered if the German had told him as yet of the girl of the rosy wall of the Moon Pool Chamber and the real reasons for our search. Then I answered as briefly as possible—omitting all reference to these things. The red dwarf watched me with unmistakable amusement —and I knew Von Hetzdorp dad told him. But clearly Lugur had kept his information even from Yolara; and as clearly she had spoken to none of that episode when O’Keefe’s automatic had shattered the Keth-smitten vase. And again I felt that sense of deep bewilderment—of helpless search for clue to all the tangle. For two hours we were questioned and then the priestess called Rador and let us go. soon left us. “One thing’s sure,” Larry remarked, al- most inconsequentially, “‘ we’ve got to beat Von Hetzdorp to it. Didn’t see anything of a lady named Lakla in your trip around the bazaars, did you?” | I shook my head. He walked about the room, uneasily. “ Hell’s brewing here all right,” he said 7 A-S THE CONQUEST OF THE MOON POOL. Larry was somber as we returned. Rador . - at last, stopping before me. “I can’t maka out just the particular brand—that’s all that bothers me. We’re going to have a stiff. fight, that’s sure. What I want to do quick is to find the Golden Girl, Doc. Haven’t seen her on the wall lately, have you?” he queried, hopefully fantastic. “Laugh if you want to,” he went on, ‘“ But she’s our best bet. It’s going to be a race between her and the O’Keefe banshee | _—hbut I put my money on her. queer experience while I was in that garden, after you’d left.” His voice grew solemn. “ Did you ever see a leprechawn, Doc?” I shook my head again, as solemnly. ‘ He’s a little man in green,” said Larry. “ Oh, about as high as your knee. I saw one once —in Carntogher Woods. And as I sat there, half asleep, in Yolara’s garden, the living spit of him stepped out from one of those bushes, twirling a little shillalah. ““Tt’s a tight box ye’re gettin’ in, Larry avick,’ said he, ‘but don’t ye be down hearted, lad.’ ‘““*1m carrying on,’ said I, ‘ but you’re a long way from Ireland,’ I said, or thought I did. “*Ye've a lot o’ friends there,’ he an- swered. ‘ An’ where the heart rests the feet are swift to follow. Not that I’m sayin’ I'd like to live here, Larry,’ said he. “*T Know where my heart is now,’ f told him. ‘It rests on a girl with golden eyes and the hair and swan-white breast of Eilidh the Fair—but me feet don’t seem to get me to her,’ I said.” The brogue thickened. ‘““ An’ the little man in green nodded his head an’ whirled his shillalah. ‘““<Tt’s what I came to tell ye,’ says he. ‘Don’t ye fall for the Bhean-Nimher, the serpent woman wit’ the blue eyes; she’s a daughter of Ivor, lad—an’ don’t ye do noth- in’ to make the brown-haired colleen ashamed o’ ye, Larry O'Keefe. I knew yer great, great grandfather an’ his be- fore him, aroon,’ says he, ‘an’ wan o’ the O’Keefe failin’s is to think their hearts big enough to hold all the wimmen o’ the world. A heart’s built to held only wan permanent- ly, Larry,’ he says, ‘an’ I’m warnin’ ye a nice girl don’t like to move into a place all cluttered up wid another’s washin’ an’ Mo [ had a (ECO AMIE