Thirsty Blades
By OTIS ADELBERT KLINE
and E HOFFMANN PRICE
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Weird Tales February 1930.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Then something cast its shadow over him."
The side entrance to the caravanserai was closed. Well then, back down the alley, and around the corner to the main gate. But when Rankin turned to retrace his steps, he saw that it might be a long way from there to any other place. For to his right and left were blank walls; at his back, a closed gate; and in front, a crescent of drawn blades was closing in on him.
Behind the six advancing swordsmen rode their commander. He reined in his Barbary stallion, stroked his beard—henna red, as Rankin could see plainly in the white moonlight—and settled back to enjoy the spectacle.