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Cosmic Tales, v. 2, issue 1, Summer 1939

Page 10

10       COSMIC TALES

middle, and taking them by surprise. He launched out savagely, kicking backward with every ounce of his two hundred and fifty pounds.
And came to earth swiftly. Stunned and startled, he cast a quick glance around, for he had made only a short distance, perhaps four or five feet.
"He, he, he, he!" chorused the three Martians in evil glee, rocking back and forth with laughter, saying gon stalky legs.
Sweat stood out on Fatty's brow. H knew suddenly that his calculations had been entirely wrong. Terrestrial strength was playing strange tricks on this bizarre planet, and his heat-gun was back inside the rocket vessel, lying on the floor.
Too late to retreat. His eyes gleamed fearfully. Now his breath was coming in short gasps.
Laughing crazily, a scissorbill reared high on yellow horny hind legs, and raced like a lizard at him. Fatty was excited. He tried to swing his sword and side-step at the same time.
The sword went flying into the crimson dust, and the inflated earthman made a slow jack-knife straight up in the air. As the scissorbill raced by, a serrated mandible slashed out, nipped the buttons neatly from his suspenders. One, two. Like that! When Fatty once more came to the turf, sitting flat, the scissorbill was grinning foolishly. He had just swallowed the buttons.
The other two scissorbills stopped their grinning. They were like something out of a nightmare. Envious single eyes glared at their comrade. A voracious glitter came into their big gargoyle countenances as they watched the triumphant Martian lick his silly puckery little lips. Then the big eyes swung back hungrily in Fatty's direction, who was too startled to do anythingbut sit and glare.
Scratch! Zing! Their horny feet fairly flew and the twain came charging down like twin engines of destruction. Fatty got to his knees, grabbed one hand for his pants, the other for his fallen sword.
Twin cyclones closed in, flashed by. Buttons popped and flew from Fatty's pants and shirt. The whirlwind in their wake left a flurry of loose cloth that hung limply to the earthman's round sagging body.
"Imps of space!" exclaimed the horrified Fatty, preserving his dignity as best he might. "They're vegetarians. And Ace told me they'd eat anything of cellulose. Clothes too, spun from cellulin fibers."
Now the scissorbills were grinning again, scampering about as though the buttons, made of a rubbery plant compound , were only a sample.
"He, he, he," they tittered. "Hi, hi, hi."
This was too much. With a howl of dismay, Fatty headed for the airlock in full retreat. Every step sent him yards in a vertical direction. And every time he came down, a furious blur of yellow whizzed by. Cloth ripped and tore. Fatty screamed and howled, and jumped and bounced the faster. The gleaming berylium space-ship, the reddish jungle, and the gyrating dervishes that attacked him were a dizzy insane whirl.
In his mad dash, he miscalculated, and hit out in an opposite direction. In some respects, he was going up and down like a kangaroo, though he was making little headway, about ten feet in a vertical direction and thirty six inches in a horizontal plane. His pink rotund body was bouncing like a rubber ball.
Coarse, human laughter burst in upon his horrified brain. He was suddenly aware that for a few moments he had been alone, as naked as the day he was born, bouncing along the trail, but that now Ace and Highpockets stood watching him from a nearby thicket.
One more hop and he landed
(Con't on page 32)

Saving...

10 COSMIC TALES middle, and taking them by surprise. He launched out savagely, kicking backward with every ounce of his two hundred and fifty pounds. And came to earth swiftly. Stunned and startled, he cast a quick glance around, for he had made only a short distance, perhaps four or five feet. "He, he, he, he!" chorused the three Martians in evil glee, rocking back and forth with laughter, saying gon stalky legs. Sweat stood out on Fatty's brow. H knew suddenly that his calculations had been entirely wrong. Terrestrial strength was playing strange tricks on this bizarre planet, and his heat-gun was back inside the rocket vessel, lying on the floor. Too late to retreat. His eyes gleamed fearfully. Now his breath was coming in short gasps. Laughing crazily, a scissorbill reared high on yellow horny hind legs, and raced like a lizard at him. Fatty was excited. He tried to swing his sword and side-step at the same time. The sword went flying into the crimson dust, and the inflated earthman made a slow jack-knife straight up in the air. As the scissorbill raced by, a serrated mandible slashed out, nipped the buttons neatly from his suspenders. One, two. Like that! When Fatty once more came to the turf, sitting flat, the scissorbill was grinning foolishly. He had just swallowed the buttons. The other two scissorbills stopped their grinning. They were like something out of a nightmare. Envious single eyes glared at their comrade. A voracious glitter came into their big gargoyle countenances as they watched the triumphant Martian lick his silly puckery little lips. Then the big eyes swung back hungrily in Fatty's direction, who was too startled to do anythingbut sit and glare. Scratch! Zing! Their horny feet fairly flew and the twain came charging down like twin engines of destruction. Fatty got to his knees, grabbed one hand for his pants, the other for his fallen sword. Twin cyclones closed in, flashed by. Buttons popped and flew from Fatty's pants and shirt. The whirlwind in their wake left a flurry of loose cloth that hung limply to the earthman's round sagging body. "Imps of space!" exclaimed the horrified Fatty, preserving his dignity as best he might. "They're vegetarians. And Ace told me they'd eat anything of cellulose. Clothes too, spun from cellulin fibers." Now the scissorbills were grinning again, scampering about as though the buttons, made of a rubbery plant compound , were only a sample. "He, he, he," they tittered. "Hi, hi, hi." This was too much. With a howl of dismay, Fatty headed for the airlock in full retreat. Every step sent him yards in a vertical direction. And every time he came down, a furious blur of yellow whizzed by. Cloth ripped and tore. Fatty screamed and howled, and jumped and bounced the faster. The gleaming berylium space-ship, the reddish jungle, and the gyrating dervishes that attacked him were a dizzy insane whirl. In his mad dash, he miscalculated, and hit out in an opposite direction. In some respects, he was going up and down like a kangaroo, though he was making little headway, about ten feet in a vertical direction and thirty six inches in a horizontal plane. His pink rotund body was bouncing like a rubber ball. Coarse, human laughter burst in upon his horrified brain. He was suddenly aware that for a few moments he had been alone, as naked as the day he was born, bouncing along the trail, but that now Ace and Highpockets stood watching him from a nearby thicket. One more hop and he landed (Con't on page 32)