Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 146 No. 4 — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

Se ices cloced ie, upon ibe. Steel flashed in the moonlight. CHAPTER VII. “An honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails.” HE shots set the blooded, sensitive horses to plunging madly. One of the Spahis caught the bridle of Mis- tress Betty and spurred away with her; the other, his horse slain, leaped into the empty saddle of Barbarroja and galloped after his comrade. Shaw was mounted, but two men were stabbing at him, a third had gripped his bridle rein. Yimnah was caught afoot. Spence missed his horse, which shied away; the two beasts were careering madly around, headed from the road and finding no out- let from the ruins. Spence cut down the first man who sprang at him, and shouted again at the divine. “ Spur for it, Shaw! After her! Spur!” “He who takes the sword,” quoth the doctor, neatly putting his rapier through one of his assailants, “ shall even perish by the same.” And the thin blade split the throat of the man at his rein. ‘“ Farewell, Patrick! Woe is me that I must leave you.” His voice was lost as he thundered away. Spence conjectured that a score of men must have fallen upon them. He himself was ringed in against a block of marble, which secured his back. He pistoled two of the men before him, seized his sword again, and they recoiled momentarily from his attack. A wide blade flamed in the moonlight. The hoarse, inarticulate rage scream of Yimnah rent the night like a pxan of hor- ror. The monstrous figure of the eunuch, streaming blood from a dozen wounds, tushed through the assailants, striking to right and left in blind fury. They opened before him, fell back from Spence, shrieked that this was no*man, but some jinni of the mountains. Yimmnah leaped on them, struck and struck again, screaming. « Foolst” cracked out a voice in Spanish, DOWN THE COAST OF BARBARY. A musket flashed near the voice. There died Yimnah, the wide blade sweeping out from his hand and clashing on the stones. At this instant Spence leaped out sud- denly as one of the horses plunged past; he caught the beast in mid-career, dragged himself into the high saddle. That harsh, crackling voice electrified him; it was the voice of Gholam Mahmoud. Now he per- ceived the man’s figure, off to one side, and directed the plunging horse toward it. “Assassin!” he shouted. “This time you shall not escape.” Another musket shot rang out. Spence felt a shock—and darkness came upon him, He bowed forward, his body supported by the huge Moorish saddle, his fingers twined into the mane of the horse. The frantic beast dashed away into the night with whirlwind hoofs. Gholam Mahmoud leaped forward, rav- ing like a maniac. To insure against dis- covery of the ambush, his horses had been left a quarter mile distant; pursuit was im- possible. While Gholam Mahmoud cursed, Barbarroja came groaning to the scene, holding his hurt stomach. “Ha, thou bitch wolf’s fool!” cried the furious red-beard. ‘“ Why did you not await the signal?” ‘“ You were too cursed tong in giving it,” snarled Gholam Mahmoud. “Now the woman is gone.” ‘A murrain on you and your woman!” shouted Barbarroja. ‘‘ Now Spence is es- caped, and Mulai Ali not come. Pot-head that you are—only one eunuch bagged, and half our men down!” ° ‘“ Devil take you, get the horses and after them!” “‘ After them yourself,” growled Barbar- roja, “I stay here to kill Mulai Ali when he comes.’ Ten minutes later Gholam Mahmoud rode away toward Udjde—alone, — When Patrick Spence came to his senses his horse was following a cattle track in a long and narrow valley. Where he was, Spence had not the least idea; he was com- pletely lost. He had caught his own horse, and behind the saddle were provisions, —