Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

666 Well shali the Wings of the Snow aid the tribesmen in years to come, in war and in the chase, when that the snow lies deep in forests or on the plain. Is it your will that Ku-ro take my place and lead you when I am gone to my fathers?”’ “Tt is our will!” rose the shout. “ Well is it spoken, great chieftain of the Ta-an! Honor to Ku-ro, Carver of Ivory!” _ Nan-a-ta raised his hand, and the shouts died away. . ‘Thus, then, be it. Henceforth Ku-ro passes from among us; in his place remains _ T’san-va-sa, Lord of the Wings of the Snow. It is said!”’ Long and loud swelled the roar, rising, falling, sweeping upward to the sky from the throats of the tribesmen: “Long life and honor to T’san-va-sa, Lord of the Wings of the Snow! Long life and henor to his bride!” w Hand in hand the two stepped forward, (The U ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Po joy and pride flooding their bosoms, the eyes of both shining as the multitude cried their honor and their love. Hand in hand on the margin of the Great Rock of Council they stood, and as they took their places the sun once more, as on that day so long ago, peeped out through the veiling clouds, striking full on the two figures with a shaft of glowing color. And seeing this, seeing before them those youthful forms, so supple and straight, so strong and fair to look upon, shining in the ruddy light of the late winter sun, the tribes- men recognized an omen, a mark of the ‘favor of O-Ma-Ken, the Great Father, a prophecy of happiness and welfare for the tribe, and with one accord, even as months before, the People of the Mountain Caves knelt with upraised arms, bowing in rever- ence before T’san-va-sa, Lord of the Wings of the Snow, and Then-ai, the Lance of Dawn, his destined bride. end.) we U EVENING RAIN BY ARTHUR WALLACE PEACH , gentle as AS the voice of love Low-speaking in the eve, As tender as the word of love To wistful hearts that grieve, The murmuring evening rain I hear Beyond my open door; And in my heart its summoning Brings memories of yore. The drifting scent of fading rose Within my garden walls Upon the warm and whispering air Like some sweet incense falls. The light wind bears it to my room, And like a charm it brings The rapture of dear days agone, The joy of vanished springs. Oh, ministry of twilight hours, No holier balm for pain, No richer gift of peace you have Than breath of evening rain! cCoOmicboook CO