Avon Fantasy Reader No. 8 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

THE MAN WITH A THOUSAND LEGS. 55 up by himself away off on the rim of the world, and I always enjoyed read- ing about Schemselnihar and Deryabar and the young King of the Black Isles. I was reading the first part of The King of the Black Isles and had reached the sentence: “And then the youth drew away his robe and the Sultan per- ceived with horror that he was a man only to his waist, and from thence to his feet he had been changed into marble,” when I happened to look toward the window. An icy south wind was driving the rain furiously against the panes, and at first I saw nothing but a translucent glitter on the wet glass and vaguely beyond that the gleaming turmoil of dark, enormous waves. Then a dazzling and indescribable shape flattened itself against the window and blotted out the black sea and sky. I gasped and jumped up. | “A monstrous squid!” I muttered. “The storm must have blown it ashore. That tentacle will smash the glass if I.don’t do something.” I reached for my slicker and hat and in a moment I was descending the spiral stairway three steps.at a time. Before emerging into the storm I armed myself with a revolver and the contents of a tumbler of strong Jamaica rum. I paused for-a moment in the doorway and stared about me. But from where I stood I could see nothing but the tall gray boulders fringing the southern extremity of the island and a stretch of heaving and rolling water. The rain beat against my face and nearly blinded me, and a deep murmur arose from the intolerable wash of the waves. Before me-lay only a furious and tortured immensity; behind my back was the warmth and security of my miniature castle, a mellow pipe and a book of valiant stories—but I couldn’t - ignore the menace of the loathsome shape that had pressed itself against the glass. I descended three short steps to the rocks and made my way ds toward the rear of the lighthouse. Drops of rain more acrid than tears ran down my cheeks and into my mouth and dripped from the corners of my mustache. The overpowering darkness clung like a leech to my clothes. I hadn’t gone — twenty paces before I came upon a motionless figure. ‘At first I saw nothing but the head and shoulders of a well-shaped man; but as I drew cautiously nearer I collided with something that made me cry out in terror. A hideous tentacle shot out and wound itself about my leg. With a startled cry I turned and attempted to run. But out of the macro- carpus darkness leaped another slimy arm, and another. My fingers tightened on the revolver in my pocket: I whipped it out and epeage fire on the withing brutes. The report of my gun echoed from the surrounding boulders.. A sudden, shrill scream of agony broke the comparative quiet that followed. Then there came a voluble, passionate pleading. “Don’t shoot again! Please don’t! ’'m done up. I was done up when I came here, and I wanted help! I didn’t intend ei | aoe | = comicbooks.com