Avon Fantasy Reader No. 9 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

guished the taper and knelt once more before the stone, resuming his chant, and prostrating himself from time to time with his forehead touch- ing the stone. The breeze, blowing in-our direction, was laden with the sweet, heavy odor of burning sandalwood and musk. A half hour passed with no change in the ceremony. Then the burning joss sticks winked out, one by one. When the last went dark, the kneeling man made a final obeigance, then rose, took down his framework” af poles, tucked them under his arm, and leaning heavily on his song staff departed toward. the west. “Show’s over,” I said. “Shall we go back to camp?” “Hardly,” replied my friend. “Pm going to follow him. In this bright moonlight it should be easy. By Jove! What has become of him? Why the fellow just now disappeared before my eyes!” _ “Maybe he fell into a ditch,’ I hazarded. s “Ditch, fiddlesticks!” snapped the professor. “I’ve avolcnad every square 3 | foot of this crater and know: there is no depression of any kind where he ~ was walking.” “Eastern magic,’ I ventured. “Now you see it, now you don’t.” “Rot! You stay here and watch the western slope with your binoculars. I’m going down to investigate.” I watched, while the professor stumbled hastily across the crater and frantically searched the vicinity of the place where he had declared the Celestial had disappeared. After a twenty minute hunt, he gave it up and came back. “Queer,” he panted as he care up beside me. “Deucedly queer. I couldn’t find hide nor hair of the fellow—not even the burnt ends of his joss sticks. Must have taken everything with him.” We retufned to camp, squatted beside the Gre and lighted our pipes. Alamo had stacked the dishes, putting off to the last the one camp job he hated—washing them—and was picketing the horses. Suddenly we heard him sing out: “Well, look who’s here! Hello, Charlie. You wantee come along: washee dishee, gettee all same plenty ak chow?” Looking up in surprise, I saw the tall, ragged Oriental who had disap. peared so mysteriously a few moments before, coming toward us. He was still leaning on his long staff, but minus the poles he had previously carried. The professor and I both leaped to our feet from places beside the fire. The Chinaman paused and looked at Alamo in evident bewilderment. “ beg a thousand pardons,” he said in _ excellent ene “but your speech is quite unintelligible to mé.’ “Well, Pil be damned!” Alamo tilted his broad Stetson. to on eee and meaiched his head in amazement. By this time my excited friend a reached the side of our Celestial visitor. 57 bookssco