Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 53 — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

Playing with fire is safer by far than— PLAYING WITH TIME AvID awoke early and D glanced towards the bed of Lloyd, his youn- ger brother. Although it was three months now since Lloyd had been hanged at Man- chester Gaol for the murder of the girl who had come between them, David always looked towards the bed beneath the window as if half-expecting his return. Then David rose, dressed quickly and crept downstairs; he cut himself a chunk of cheese and a thick slab of bread, and with cheese in one hand and bread in the other, walked through the grey stone village, munching. It was to Plynlimon he was going—Plynlimon, where he and Lloyd had played as boys. As he passed, curtains twitched behind him. Mrs. Evans, lossin-shop, spoke over her shoulder. *““David’s going up the moun- tain again—he’s getting funny ways on him since Lloyd was —er—was—er—died.”’ Mrs. Jones, the milk, mut- by W. H. BOORE tered to herself as she turned back into her room. “David, bach, something will come to you, mark my words, and you moping alone on that old pagan hill.” , And the Minister of the little chapel gave a worried sigh as he watched, and won- dered if it was yet time for him to try to reclaim the lost. But David knew where he was going and, in a confused way, why he was going there. Twice on Plynlimon things had happened to him that he could not understand. Since Lloyd had dropped from the gallows trap, the world that could be’ understood held neither hope nor meaning for David, and he pursued the inexplicable with no more purpose than that it took him away from the known. He remembered the first occasion—a week ago now— when the old shepherd on the mountain had asked him the time. “Half past ten,’”’ David had 100 comicloooks.com