Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

94 men of other religious faiths, the counter- raids, the fierce, religious zeal which led men to slay each other over the difference of a word. But she did not know that Yahka Arik had been inviolate from the surges of inter- tribal warfare, and this because of one thing: Fear. Only once had it been in- vaded. Nor was she aware of the deep spirit of protection for their women-folk that dwelt in the hearts of the Sayaks—a spirit that exhibited itself in a baser form in the isolation of the Turkish harem. Edith, because she did not understand, did not need the code of these men: an eye for an eye, a blow for a blow, a life for a life. Her heart was beating clamorously as she slipped past scattered groups of tur- baned, swarthy men who scarcely looked at her, owing to the general reluctance, even to gaze upon a veiled woman who belonged to another man. But she felt no fear. So she walked slowly across the dusty space in front of the mosque. The stone arch rose before her. Armed men, standing beside the gigantic trumpets that Donovan ° had called the “horns of Jericho ” looked down at her grimly from the balcony over the entrance. And now the girl hesitated, feeling the eyes of the guards upon her. For the first time she experienced an acute foreboding. Had the watching senti- nels who scrutinized each newcomer, fin- gering their weapons, succeeded in pene- trating her disguise? Nothing in their aspect revealed whether this were the case or not. Edith. halted, looking about he Sr There was no ‘other entrance—as she had made reasonably certain in her examination through the telescope. What was within the deep shadow of the arch? Were there other guards? = Then she heard quick footsteps in the sand, and a tiny figure drew near her, toddling toward the mosque. <A Sayak child, seven or eight years of age, had fallen behind the groups of older worshipers. Realizing that her hesitation was attracting the attention of the watchers, Edith took the hand of the boy and advanced beside him toward the arch. He looked up at her THE ARGOSY. playfully, and trotted on manfully, perceiv- ing no difference in this tall woman from other Sayaks—eglad, in fact, of the aid of her hand. - A moment the clear sunlight gleamed ori the white embroidery of her head-dress; then she passed into the shadow of the arch —and repressed an involuntary cry. Some steps led into the.door of the building itself, within the arch, and on the lowest step a hooded Arab was sitting, scimitar across his knee. “Peace be with you,” the man mur- mured, not ceasing to look at her. Edith had often heard Donovan employ this salu- tation and its reply, but as she fumbled for the Turki words in quick alarm she heard the shrill voice of the child: ‘And upon you, also, be peace!” With that, woman and child passed by the sentry of the steps and entered the outer court, where Edith was surprised to see a multitude of slippers of all sizes and colors. While she wondered at this she saw the boy slide off his small footgear and go forward barefoot. She did likewise, trust- ing to the giédom of the inner chambers to conceal her stockings. The murmur of a sonorous voice reached her. Edith advanced timidly between great pillars, and stood within the mosque itself, She saw a lofty space, half in darkness, into which light descended from a single aper- ture in the roof at the end opposite “her, Slender, ornamented pillars supported a balcony with a carved wooden rail. Gold and silver ornaments lined the walls. : The light reflected dully from broad gold plates ‘inscribed in a manner strange to Edith. She had not’ known that the mosque, which must have been built actually into a cleft in the face of the cliff, was so huge. Directly in front of the ray of light that fell from the round opening in the dome, a turbaned priest in clean robes was reading from a heavy volume, bound in irridescent silk, a gold chain running from the clasp of the book to the neck of the reader. It was the voice of the priest she had heard, The ray of light was full upon him, shin- ing on the turban folds, and glimmering in a long, white beard. A majestic figure—a patriarch of his people. Co LOOOLK C© 5}