Avon Murder Mystery Monthly No. 41 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

A. MERRITT — 41 trident. With the three long prongs of this trident the thing struck, swiftly, with fearful precision—joyously—tining those who fled, forking them, tossing them from its points high in air. | It was, I think, that last touch of sheer horror, the playfulness of the Smiting Thing, that sent my dry tongue to the roof of my terror-parched mouth, and held open with monstrous fascination eyes that struggled to close. | Ever the armored men fled from it, and ever was it swifter than they, teetering at their heels on its tripod legs. | From half. its length the darting snake streamed red rain. [heard a sigh from Ruth; wrested my gaze from the hollow; turned. She lay fainting in Drake’s arms. | Beside the two the swathed woman stood, looking out upon that slaughter, calm and still, shrouded with an unearthly tranquillity— viewing it, it came to me, with eyes impersonal, cold, indifferent as the untroubled stars which look down upon hurricane and earthquake in this world of ours. There was a rushing of many feet at our left; a wail from Chiu-Ming. Were they maddened by fear, driven by despair, determined to slay be- fore they themselves were slain? I do not know. But those who still lived of the men from the tunnel mouth were charging us. _ They clustered close, their shields held before them. They had no bows, these men. They moved swiftly down upon us in silence—swords and pikes gleaming. _ The Smiting Thing rocked toward us, the metal tentacle straining out like a rigid, racing serpent, flying to cut between its weird mistress and those who menaced her. I heard Chiu-Ming scream; saw him throw up his hands, cover his eyes—run straight upon the pikes! “Chiu-Ming!” I shouted. “Chiu-Ming! This way!” __ I ran toward him. Before I had gone five paces Ventnor flashed by me, revolver spitting. I saw a spear thrown. It struck the Chinaman squarely in the breast. He tottered—fell upon his knees. Even as he dropped, the giant flail swept down upon the soldiers. It swept through them like a scythe through ripe grain. It threw them, broken and torn, far toward the valley’s sloping sides. It left only frag- ments that bore no semblance to men. Ventnor was at Chiu-Ming’s head; I dropped beside him. There was a crimson froth upon his lips. . “I thought that Shin-Je was about to slay us,” he whispered. “Fear blinded me.” His head dropped; the body quivered, lay still. We arose, looked about us dazedly. At the side of the crevice stood ECOMC OOO (GO)