All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

=. ie EA os cams = = Frieze “THE CONQUEST OF T HE MOON “POOL. it was just after our fourth sleep, I re- member. ‘“Come on to a concert,” he said. We skimmed off to one of. the bridge garrisons. Rador called the twoscore guards to attention; and then, to my utter stupe- faction, the whole company, O’Keefe lead- ing them; roared out the ‘“ Marseillaise.” “ Allons, enfants de la patrie!” they sang— in a closer approach to the French than might have been expected ten or fifty miles below France level. “ Marchons! Mar- chons!” they bellowed. Larry quivered with suppressed mirth at my paralysis of surprise. “Taught ’em that for Von Hetzdorp’s benefit!” he gasped. ‘‘ Wait till that beche hears it. He'll blow up. I’ve got ’em going on ‘Tipperary’ and that great Yank trench-song: “ Here come the doughboys, ‘The dirt behind their ears; Here come the doughboys, Their pay is in arrears.” And the dwarfs joined in rousingly, fol- lowing the words as closely as they could. It was irresistibly funny; and in my laugh- ter I forgot for the moment my forebod- “ Just wait until you hear Yolara lisp a pretty little thing I taught her,” said Larry as we set back for what we now called home. There was an impish twinkle in his eyes. And I did hear. For it was not many minutes after that the priestess condescend- ed to command me to come to her with O'Keefe. “Show Goodwin how much you have learned of our speech, O lady of the lips of honeyed flame!” murmured Larry. She hesitated; smiled at him, and then from that perfect mouth, out of the ex- quisite throat, in the voice that was ‘like the chiming of little silver bells, she trilled a melody familiar to me indeed: “ She’s only a bird in a gilded cage, A bee-yu-tiful sight to see—” And so on to the bitter end. I did not dare to look at O’Keefe; with utmost diffi- culty I controlled the spasm that shook > SP hae en Be ee EI — “She thinks it’s a love-song,” said Larry when we had left. “It’s only part ~ of a repertoire I’m teaching her. Hon- = = estly, Doc, it’s the only way I can keep my mind ‘clear when I’m with her,” he —— went on earnestly. ‘‘ She’s a devil-ess from hell—but a wonder. Whenever I find my= _ self going I get her to sing that, or‘ Take back your gold!’ and I’m back again— = pronto—with the right perspective! Pop == goes all the mystery! ‘Hell!’ I say, ‘she’s only a woman!’ ” eee Through those seven sleeps there was no sign either of Olaf or of Von Hetzdorp. Always, when we asked Yolara, she said that they were both well and content. Non was there sign of the Golden Girl—al- 2 though Larry told me that he dreamed of = her, and sometimes I turned quickly, feel- Zee 3 ny ME it ing her eyes upon me. _ a5 And ever the passion light in the eyeg of the priestess grew stronger, more per- Bee ee ilous, when she looked upon Larry O’Keefe —and steadily the face of Lugur grew me as forbidding. es Then at last came the summons to thag = tragic interlude which was to be the- oo curtain-raiser to the dread, the incredible, = the glorious finale of our adventure. CHAPTER XIX. = THE AMPHITHEATER OF HELL, es OR hours the black-haired folk had been streaming across the bridges, — flowing along the promenade by. scores and by hundreds, drifting down to- ward the gigantic seven-terraced temple whose interior I had never as yet seen, and from whose towering exterior, indeed, I had . always been kept far enough away—unob- trusively, but none the less decisively—to prevent any real observation. The struc- ture, I had estimated, nevertheless, could not reach less than a thousand feet above its silvery base, and the diameter of its « — > — circular foundation was about the same. ee I wondered what it was that was bringing . 2 the /adala into Lora, and where were they = = vanishing. All of them were flower-crowned — | with the luminous, lovely blooms—old and — = young, sue." mocking-eyed girls, wart = a =e eee aa Soe a ig hie Ste