Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 146 No. 4 — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

were ahead of any ambush. Mulai Ali might have come with them after all. No unsaddling!” ordered Spence. “We stop for food and water, then on again. May I spread cloaks on the ground for you, Mistress Betty?” Shaw, forgetting all else, was already scrambling away amid the ruins. Spence laid out his burnoose for the girl, fed his horse, and joined her with dates and couscous. Presently he lighted his pipe, and was getting it to draw when he heard the voice of Shaw from the tumbled ruins, excitement in its tone. “ Patrick! Come here at once and see what I have found!” Laughing, Spence essayed to find the divine. This was no small matter; but, after circling a huge cistern, and stumbling over heaps of ruins, he came upon Shaw. The latter was seated before a broken pil- lar, notebook in one hand, sword in other; with the rapier he was scratching lichens from an inscription—the use to which he most often put the weapon. Dr. Shaw looked up excitedly. “Patrick! Let me read you this re- markable inscription: “Q. POMPEIO CN. F. QVIRIT. CLEMENTI PA—DIIVR EX TESTAMENTO. Q. POMPEIO F. QVIR. ROGATI FRATRIS SUI POMPEIA A. P. MABRA POSVIT.” * Does that suggest nothing to you, Pat- rick? Does it betray no significance?” Spence laughed. ‘‘ Only that somebody wasted a lot of time. What’s the big find, doctor?” * Man, man! Do you not realize that this broken inscription refers to the grand- son and great-grandson of Pompey him- self? Finding them buried here beneath us, what a force and beauty are lent to the sublime epigram of Martial! Think of them being entombed here.” “T’m cold,” said the practical Spence. “Tm thinking a lot more of ourselves than of Pompey’ s family. If. you’ve fished copying those letters, suppose we move on.” “T forgot!” _ The other rose. “Patrick, I saw some men ta me ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Pre a all ail the words. m Spence stifled a curse. “ Come along, then! We've done enough talking—-hello! Who's this?” A swaggering figure approached them at this instant. It was Barbarroja, one hand at his hilt, the other twirling his mustaches. Beyond, Spence saw that Mistress Betty and the others were already mounting. Yimnah was lying down, drinking from the well. “A word with you, sewores!” exclaimed Barbarroja. ‘‘I have an offer to make you.” “Confound you!” snapped Spence. “What are you talking about?” “Why, truce! Terms, capitulation, armistice! In a word, peace or war!” ‘Are you mad?” demanded Dr. Shaw, peering at the renegade. Barbarroja chuckled. “Not quite, sezor. Listen! company of men hidden here. from me, they will attack. Now let us speak together—terms! My friend, who captains those hidden men, desires the per- son of the lady yonder. Now, how much is she worth to you? A word, and I can get you away from here without molesta- tion.” “Villain!” cried Dr. Shaw, and hurled himself forward. So unexpected was his attack, that Bar- barroja was taken unawares. The amazed Spence saw his companion twine both hands in the flaming beard and jerk the ruffian forward. A wild howl of pain broke from the renegade, to be quenched in a groan as the lusty divine kicked him amidships and stretched him senseless on the stones. ‘“That’s the way to deal with such gentry!” panted Shaw. ‘“ Now, to horse, Patrick!” From the Spahis broke a shout of warn- ing. A spattering of musket fire leaped from the hillside; men shouted, a ring of dark figures appeared, closing on the party. Spence and Dr. Shaw ran forward, trying to gain the horses. “ Ride, Shaw!” rand send aid 1 «Ride of it, lest they interrupt before I had copied 3 There is a At a call with Poin Betty ee } z- 0 ‘DOOKS.CO -_ ae eS “4.* a be a Cs