Page:Weird Tales Volume 36 Number 06 (1942-07).djvu/19

But their master had stayed outside. These, his followers, were no more than men, and as such had but muscles with which to attack, vital organs in which to receive wounds. I asked no lesser opponents than such.

Jaeger had spoken of twelve members to the coven, under rule of the Flying Horned One. The death of Peter Dole, the pitiful renegade, would leave only eleven. I think that that many came in now, and the light seemed to burst from the uplifted hand of the tallest. But my second glance showed me that the hand was not his. It was a five-fingered candle or taper, fixed by the wristlike base upon a tin plate, and each of the fingers sprouted a kindled wick.

I had lost sight, though not thought, of Susan. She stood near Jaeger, and came forward. One of the throng whooped in laughter—his voice was muffled by his mask and thickened by alcohol—and confronted her.

"She did it, good girl! She bound them!" He turned upon the motionless form of Jaeger. "Why aren't you preaching, Parson? Walloping the pulpit and quoting chapter and verse? Pretty quiet and stiff, ain't you?"

He drew a straight dagger like the one drawn against me at the scene of the flogging.

"Take the red knife," he quoted unsteadily, "and cut red bread!"

"Wait," interposed the tall man who held the five-fingered light. "There's something to do first. There lies some dead clay under the blanket yonder. I'd guess it for what's left of Dirt Fire, known to men as Peter Dole."

Dirt Fire. Dirt Fire—I had heard somewhere of how witches, upon joining the circle, were baptized mockingly to new names. That had befallen Peter Dole, and he had asked for a second baptism to clear his soul of the horror he felt. The tall one passed his tin plate, with the light, to a pudgy figure who must have been a woman, masked and in men's rough riding clothes. Then he took a step toward Susan and towered over her.

"You've served us well," he spokes "Our coven is one short. You will fill the emptiness."

There was no asking of her whether she wanted to. Perhaps some quick instruction by Jaeger had prepared her for this. In any case, she voiced neither acceptance nor refusal. She only faced the tall mask man, silently and gravely.

"Thirteen we shall be, counting our master," intoned the tall one. "Susan Dole, say after me the words I now repeat."

He lifted a hand, and made the stroking gesture in air that Jaeger had called "hypnotic." Susan drew herself up. The spell seemed to be catching hold of her on instant.

Just then, Jaeger made a little twitching motion with the right hand that had hung quietly at its side. That hand held his revolver, unnoticed by the invaders. Fire spurted, powder exploded. The tall hypnotist seemed to somersault sidewise, a banged down on the floor to lie without a quiver.

I had been like a hound on leash all this while, forcing myself to wait for the cue of Jaeger's first move. Now, before the sharp echo of the revolver-shot died that room, I had flung out my left hand and snatched the saber from its fastenings by the sill. My right hand brought it from the sheath with a loud rasp of metal. I gathered my legs under me and leaped at the man with the drawn dagger.

He knew I was coming, somehow or other. For he turned, trying to fend off with that straight blade he had meant for Jaeger. My first axelike chop broke his steel close to the hilt. My second assault a drawing slice, severed muscles, arteries and tendons at junction of neck and should-