Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

THE LADY FROM MACASSAR. get nearer the fire. The master of the ves- sel, seated near Puddlewhit, fidgeted and swore in muttered exclamations as he cast furtive, ratlike glances in every corner of the room. There was the look of a treed lynx in his eyes, the brute courage of the beast that, trapped, dies hopelessly, but fighting to the last. ‘““ We're going to have trouble,” he mur- mured in a broken aside to Puddlewhit. And later: “‘ When are they going to begin? Like to have it over. Wish I had that gun Teema got off me ” The lady from Macassar touched Puddle- whit’s arm. Her black eyes met his, cool, calm, and unafraid. Not a vestige of anx- iety marred her placid countenance, even her coiffure was unruffled by the storm. The boy slept quietly on her bosom. ‘““They are afraid,” she said, nodding toward their shipmates. ‘‘ Cannot you say something to calm their fears?”’ Her sublime confidence in his omnipo- tence brought a smile to Puddlewhit’s care- worn features. “It is better that Teema Doud should speak,” he replied in a low voice. “ He is their king.” ‘““Whor” she asked in a puzzled tone. ‘““He who saved your child yesterday,” he returned. Her eyes became fixed and staring upon him. The color swiftly receded from her face. “The peranakan tjina?” she gasped. Puddlewhit pressed her hand reassuring- ly. ‘‘ Have no fear,” he said. ‘‘ He is my friend, and he owes me much.” She pressed the boy to her bosom, with her cheek on his. A fierce, maternal anguish contorted her features. The child wriggled uncomfortably in its sleep. “Siva help us,” she groaned. my death.” Puddlewhit smiled at her fears. ‘‘ I told you he was my friend,” he remonstrated gently. ‘“‘ Forget what has passed between you.” “Thou dost not understand,” she mur- mured brokenly. Puddlewhit started back, it was the same expression Teema had used. ‘‘ Thou dost not know the hate of the half-blood,” she continued. Lowering “TI go to 751 her head, she rocked the fretting child in her arms while hot, scalding tears flowed unimpeded down her cheeks. Puddlewhit rose with resolution and made his way through the mob toward a hideous long-haired, wizened Battah, evidently chief of those within the hut. He was crooked with age and disfigured with the scars of scores of self-inflicted wounds, but the glitter in his pig-like eyes and the downward curve of his thin, lacerated lips told of a savage cruelty and lust for blood and cold ferocity, untamed by the passing years. As Puddlewhit approached he sud- denly threw up his spear and placed the poisoned tip on the rattan merchant’s breast. “I would have speech with Teema Doud, king of the Battahs,” Puddlewhit an- nounced calmly in the Battah tongue, in- different to the multitude of staring eyes fixed upon him from every corner. The chief’s eyes glittered. Uttering no sound, he pointed a long, skinny finger toward the seat at the fire which Puddlewhit had relinquished. The rattan dealer saw the uselessness of argument. Turning with dignity he retraced his steps and seated himself. In the hush that followed, the patter of the rain on the roof and the rum- bling of fast dying thunder sounded with tenfold clearness. Many of those who had escaped the wreck carried weapons of a sort. Following this incident, Puddlewhit saw that his ship- mates more generally were slipping their hands into their blouses or under their sashes in search of pisaus and curved Negara blades. A few were plainly panic-stricken, but for the most part the little company of shipwrecked voyagers was prepared to sell their lives dearly. White men and yellow and brown would stand shoulder to shoulder against the long-haired atavisms of the jungle, throw-backs to the days when man was emerging from the beast state. A word, a false motion, and the interior of the hut would be converted into a shambles, Puddlewhit knew. That word, that motion must not be made until Teema Doud returned, he resolved. His heart beat violently, although outwardly he was per- fectly calm. Comichbooksreconm