Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 50 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC. SCIENCE FICTION man, he had a shock of long black hair and a jagged scar ran over his plucked cheeks. Rough woollens covered his body and a corselet of leather studded with strips of rusting iron protected his chest. <A sword hung at his side and a short bow was slung on one shoulder. His mount had no saddle, no shoes, and tossed its head impatiently at the twist of hide which served as a bridle. “Have you sighted them?” He kept his eyes on the ridge as he spoke, not looking at the swarthy man standing by the horse. “The beaters are _ out, Kalin,” said the man with the easy familiarity of a comrade. “Once they flush the game the twangers will stick them.” “Good.” The warrior nodded then stiffened as a stooped black figure scuttled over the sky-line and began to run down the hill. Others followed it, all moving with a peculiar bounding hop, and the man beside the horse 76 sucked in his breath with anticipation. “Now, Kalin?” “Wait. The Hairies are cunning and will scatter if we close in too soon. Let them - get well within range.” Tensely he watched as the little group of dark figures ran down the hill, then, as shapes of men appeared on _ the sky-line, unslung his bow and fitted an arrow to the thong. At his side the man raised a horn to his lips, inflated his chest, and waited, watching his leader. “Now !” The horn made a low dron- ing note and as the sound echoed from the ridge the valley sprang into sudden life. Men appeared armed with bows, and the air shrilled to the sound of plucked strings. A small figure jerked, an arrow sticking from its chest, then fell in dying convulsions. Others tumbled as they ran, then the group had scattered and men yelled hoarsely as they gave chase. | Kalin grinned, a snarling comiclooks.comn