Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

THE RULER- OF ZEM-ZEM. Then, at a sign from his master, Hazoor turned with a proud gesture to the waiting warriors. “Abou Koi speaks thus, by the mouth of his unworthy servant. This is his hour of triumph over the proud white men—and he will savor its sweet- ness alone! It is not meet that the eyes of the inferior should look upon the pleasures of the great ones of this earth. Therefore withdraw to your city, O warriors of Zem-Zem! Ye shall return only at the going down of the sun. Abou Koi the Mighty hath spoken !” Hazoor made a sweeping gesture to- ward the palanquin, and the leper grinned evilly at the disappointed faces around him. There was a moment’s blank pause at this latest tyrannical whim of the ruler of Zem-Zem; then, as Abou Koi rose from his seat and pointed one shapeless stump toward the distant walls, the whole assembly of warriors turned their beasts toward the city, the slaves trudging doggedly in their rear. Abou Koi resumed his seat in the palanquin, watching the two prisoners with red-rimmed, blinking eyes; while Hazoor stood straight and still, appar- ently only interested in the departure of the warriors and slaves. Long minutes passed and _ the strange and terrible tableau remained motionless as though painted on that vast sandy canvas. Cardell’s reeling senses gradually steadied, and he opened his eyes to see Durning’s head only six feet removed from him across the intervening sand. He stared at the fantastic sight, aston- ished, and quite forgetful for the mo- ment that he presented the same as- pect to Durning as the latter did to him, Rage and grief filled him as he saw the agony in the eyes of his friend, and unconsciously his muscles made a spas- modic movement to go to his compan- ion’s assistance: then, as he felt the reality of the hot, suffocating prison 575 which inclosed him, an involuntary groan escaped his lips. Durning heard, and bit his lip fierce- ly in an effort to speak. “We'll—we'll probably—lose con- sciousness — before — before —” His hoarse voice quavered into silence. “Sure!” croaked Cardell. And still the slow, awful minutes passed while the leper watched and waited, and Hazoor’s keen eyes were fixed on the retreating procession. Durning’s head drooped forward, the chin resting on the hot sand, the lids closing over the heavy eyes as the sun beat fiercely down. Cardell watched him, at first with a profound pity and then with a most consuming curiosity. Durning’s head was swelling to colossal proportions and then shrinking to the size of a pea — swelling and shrinking — swelling and shrinking with a rhythmic, steady movement which lulled and fascinated Cardell. He felt an overpowering desire to sleep and struggled against it frantical- ly, for he was sure that if he did not keep his eyes open those black feet would come again and begin to trample —trample! He could not bear to see those feet again—he must keep awake and alert—he must not sleep on any ac- count—he would never wake again if he slept in the snow—fatal—numb al- ready with the cold—must get up and walk a little farther through this bliz- zard—there were lights ahead—lights! VIII. * Brian! Brian, old fellow! Brian?’ Painfully, reluctantly, Brian Cardell returned to the hot desert world which had faded from his consciousness. Frantic hands were digging in the sand about him, and a silk-clad figure was babbling strange words in his ear. * Brian—Brian!” repeated the curi- ously familiar voice. “ Don’t you know me — Montgomery — Ned Montgom- ery rt COPMICGLOOOKS (E@)