Avon Fantasy Reader No. 11 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

The queerness of something signaling and then vanishing bit at Mo glesby’s nerves. He made a lunge toward the retreating sounds. He crashe through the vines and an answering noise ahead of him told him the thin had whipped back into the trail again. The big man pushed back himsel then set off down the cough, half-seen descent at a breakneck pace. As h plunged forward with the long falling steps of a man running downhill, he sensed a movement among the bushes in the side of the tcail. He flung himself into them and made a full arm grab at whatever was trying to hide. His arm caught flesh and blood of strong odor, and the next moment teeth, bit into his forearm. He jabbed in his right hand, caught the thing in the neck and gripped furiously. Came a scream, a choking sound, then a kind of simian chatter. Whatever it was, it was helpless. Mogglesby backed out of the tangle with it. It was a person. The white man got out his cigar lighter with unsteady fingers and snapped the flint. He saw first white frightened eyes in a black face. A moment later he saw to his amazement that it was a woman. He had caught and choked a black woman into submission. The woman herself stood in his grip, her eyes and mouth agape at this sudden and irresistible onslaught upon her. In the small flame of the lighter, the man noticed the heavy African style of her face, her heavily chiseled lips, wide nostrils, her wool done in an odd symmetry and matted smooth as felt. “Why wete you waving at me a moment ago?” asked the Englishman, looking at her curiously. ‘{—I thought you were some one else, buckra,” stammered the btack woman. “Who ?”’ {thought you were a—wood-man, buckra.” ‘A porilla! My God, aren’t you afraid of a gorilla?” At this she maintained a frightened silence, and she would say nothing more, Mogplesby turned her face down the trail, held her with one haad just above her elbow, and the two moved toward the village through the darkness. As they advanced the drumming grew in volume. The jungle through which they moved gave way to banana ttees and then to an open space in which the the last murky light of evening disclosed a Baloonga stock- ade, By this time the fire inside the walls had gathered intensity and poured a faint illumination over the conical tops of the huts inside the stockade, and silhouetted in black the form of a spearman who stood on top of the gate in the wall. This spearman was the Englishman’s objective. He moved ahead with the woman amid the uproar of the drums. When he was close enough to shout against the din, he was just filling his lungs, when suddenly the black man on top of the wall flung up his assegai, pointed it downward, and the next moment his atm and body snapped forward. A split second later the Englishman felt or heard something hiss between him and his 30 Comicbooks.com