Avon Fantasy Reader No. 11 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

“Why in the world do you imagine this Luomo would approach the village with a—” The head-man shrugged a shoulder. “Master, we don’t imagine it; she does.” He evidently dismissed the topic as uninteresting, for he turned back toward the fate and with a gesture invited Mogeplesby’s company. The others turned too, and the procession started back. The head-man’s name was Loaga. He hoped Mogglesby had a pleasant journey from Ghandis. Where were his two companions ? The Englishman said he had left them a little way behind and he almost went on to say that Mokato was deciding whether or not he would come in but thought it better to delete that information from his small talk. Thea he asked Loaga how he came to know of his company’s approach. . One of Loaga’s men had seen them on the trail, and as he was explaining this he turned to a spearman and said in an aside— “Go tell Sammu to put out the fire.” As the man started off, Mogglesby {ifted a hand at the messenger. “Wait a moment,” he suggested to the man; then he turned to Loaga, “As you know, or may guess, I was sent here by the governor at Ghandis. He wants a report on everything. If Sammu has a fire burning, let it buca on The head-man became disturbed. “Listen, Master,” he said earnestly, “this fire I ordered put out, it—it has a bad odor. It is a fire of the refuse of animals, hair, entrails. When the governor's agent comes around—” “Oh, no, not at all, not at all,” declared Mogplesby in a complimentary tone. “There is nothing I would take more pleasure in reporting to the governor of Baloongaland than a good system for the cremation of gar- bage. Really, there is nothing—here, boy, you come back and stay behind us, will you?” ‘Master, the fire is nothing,” insisted the head-man uneasily. “You must be weary. Let me give you some palm wine first.” “No, I’m not at all weary,” assured the white man who was now in real- ity directing the return procession with Loaga immediately behind him. Mogglesby’s objective was clear enough. The fire over which this polite strife had arisen was just ahead of them near the center of the Baloonga vil- lage. It cast a brilliant light over the conical grass huts near it and over a huge grass building just beyond it. The smoke of the fire, rising up, caught the illumination and shone in dull umbers against the night blue sky. As the Englishman, with the Baloongas behind him, marched down the central street of the village toward this place, a gruesome tentative explana- tion trickled through the white man’s mind. He wondered whether he had surprised the black men in the preparation of one of their unspeakable feasts. He moved a little more quickly toward the fire, trying to make casual his scrutiny of the miliex. 52 Comicbooks.com