Argosy, Vol. 147, No. 1 — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

CASTE. the gods would take Bootea away from him. If there were less innate nobility in his avatar, if he were like men that were called - redblooded men, yet lacking the finer sensi- bility, this might be; not villainous rush, just drifting. That was it, the superlative excellence of the Gulab, the very quality that attracted, was the shield, the immacu- late robe that clothed her and preserved her like a vestal virgin from such violation. Barlow could not word all these things; subconsciously they swayed him, like the magnetic needle, always toward the pole of right. When they had topped the pass and descended into the valley of the Narbudda, clothed in arboreal beauty, passed from a forest of evergreen sal to giant teak trees with huge umbrellalike leaves that formed a canopy over the straight columnlike boles of elghty feet, and on amid topes of wild mango and wild date, down, down, to the lower levels where the dhak jungles gave way to feathery bamboo and plantain and waving grass, the sun, like a great ball of molten gold, was splashing its yellow sheen upon the waters of a stream that hurried south to Mother Narbudda. There was a small village of Gonds, or Korkus, like a toy thing, the houses woven from split bamboo, nestling against the bil- lowing hills. “ Here we will rest and eat,” Barlow said to the Gulab. “As the sahib wishes,” she answered, and smiled at him like a child. The huge medallion of gold had slid down in the west from the dome through which were shot great streamers of red and mauve, and a peacock perched high in 2 sal tree far up on the mountainside sent forth his strident cry of “ Miaou! Miaou!” his evening salute to the god of warmth. As the harsh call, like an evening muez- gin, died out, the sweet song of a sharma, in tones as pure as those of a nightingale’s, broke the solemn hush of eventide. Barlow turned his face to where the songster was perched in the top branches of a wild fig, and Bootea said in a low voice: Sahib, it is said that the shama is a soul come back to earth to sing of love, that men may not grow harsh.” sik ‘above the night wind, waking at ; ea) ~a 5 <* ae”. | *. 5 ae Soon a silver moon peeped 0 of the Vindhya hills, and» or of the sun, whispered down througa - thered sal trees carrying the scent of bails and from a group of salei trees @ | burned at the shrines of Hindu god Be When they had eaten, Barlow s wonder, Gulab, if this is like ards, heaven, those who have passed throu many transitions and become holy, af te to.” ae “Tt is just heaven, my lord,” she re fervently. Pee “ And to-morrow I will be plodding through the sands and dust, and TH alone. But you, little girl, you will bet ing your peace with Omkar and dream: of the greater heaven.” a “Yes. it will be that way; the sahib ¥ not have the tribulation of protecti Bootea, and she will be in the protection Omkar.”’ | . There was so much:of pathetic resigt tion in the temper of the girl’s voice was half sigh, that Barlow shivered, : the chilling mist of the valley had crept to the foothills. Why had he not treat her as an alien—kept all interest in 2 ance? His self recrimination was be ing a disease, an affliction. an He rose, muttering, “Damn! T’m the young wasters that swarm up t from Oxford and get splashed — girls from the theaters—that’s what” like.” Ree As he strode over to where nis horse tethered, munching his ration of — Bootea followed him with her eyes, 1 dering why he had broken into En; perhaps he was chanting an eveni When Barlow came back he | ing that they were at Mandh he would start on the rest of in the morning. He dreaded t ning with the girl. He could with Elizabeth, although | hovered on the horizon, ar things—of sport, of shor the Executive sitting beneat | Se 2 comicbooks.com : P Fhe . « gf \ ‘ A et: ru <A * . = Le oe aos , ~~