Transcribe
Translate
Cosmic Tales, v. 2, issue 1, Summer 1939
Page 27
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
COSMIC TALES 27 hastily. "You're perfectly right in what you say. But, i'm a bit sorry about Dick. I'd like to have him with us." "So would I. You don't suppose there's any chance of finding him now, if we retrace our steps?" "We can try. Anyway, to follow your theory logically, three people will be better off than two." "And six best of all" finished McPhail. "Come on then, let's go places." Unhurriedly, they started the backward trip, guessing that Wilson would be bedding down for the night. For half an hour they walked while the very faintest stars on the horizon's edge took on shape in the absence of the sun. Soon they reached the edge of the forest where Wilson had parted from them and plunged into it. It was black in the forest, for the overhanging trees and shrubs shut out eve the feeble starlight. McPhail trod cat-like squeezing himself through places where the trunks ran close together, and occasionally hurling whispered curses at Speer, plodding behind like a heard of elephants and blaspheming in no uncertain voice. Twice, Speer went to his thighs in evil-smelling swamp and his righteous indignation rose to high heaven. On these occasions, McPhail merely cast him a look of infinite exasperation and pointed a warning finger of silence at his lips. Eventually, the trees began to thin out and the two wayfarers could travel abreast. Suddenly, Speer gagged and began laughing silently. McPhail glanced up suspiciously. "What's got you now?" he inquired. "I was just thinking of a guy I know in Washington", choked Speer. "He spent four hours last week--I mean six thousand years to come--proving to me that time travel is utterly impossible. He convinced me, too. That's the cream of the jest--the first guy ever to convince me of anything, and he had to be proved wrong like this!" Once more, he gave himself up to mirth. McPhail lifted a warning arm and "pist"ed softly. "Wassermarrer, Dan, got hay-fever?" "Cut the wise-cracks. Didn't you hear that cry--it sounded like someone was calling us." "Yeah, I suppose it was Big chief Spitting Ray-Gun calling for a Convention program, or...." "There, again! Can't you hear it? Come on, it may be Dick in trouble." This time, Speer had heard it, and galloped off alongside of McPhail without further parley. As they cleared the outskirts of of the forest, the moon was rising and outlined against its globe, they saw a wild figure staggering along and mouthing meaningless cries. McPhail filled his lungs with air and hallooed vigorously. "Dick!" he roared, "It's us--Fonepole and me!" Wilson looked up and laughed hysterically. "God! Event heir ghosts don't know grammar!" he howled, and dropped in a dead faint. **************** So eager was McPhail on reviving Wilson that he did not look back along the trail. Speer did, but his unpractised eye did not observe the glint of moonshine on lances which poked their lengths from the sheltering leaves. In the forest, Wa-hakatee looked round at his warriors and his lips snarled into a grin. As Wilson revived under McPhail's tending, the indian loosed an ear-splitting war-whoop and Wilson promptly descended once more into the arms of Morpheus. The end of part IV __________________________
Saving...
prev
next
COSMIC TALES 27 hastily. "You're perfectly right in what you say. But, i'm a bit sorry about Dick. I'd like to have him with us." "So would I. You don't suppose there's any chance of finding him now, if we retrace our steps?" "We can try. Anyway, to follow your theory logically, three people will be better off than two." "And six best of all" finished McPhail. "Come on then, let's go places." Unhurriedly, they started the backward trip, guessing that Wilson would be bedding down for the night. For half an hour they walked while the very faintest stars on the horizon's edge took on shape in the absence of the sun. Soon they reached the edge of the forest where Wilson had parted from them and plunged into it. It was black in the forest, for the overhanging trees and shrubs shut out eve the feeble starlight. McPhail trod cat-like squeezing himself through places where the trunks ran close together, and occasionally hurling whispered curses at Speer, plodding behind like a heard of elephants and blaspheming in no uncertain voice. Twice, Speer went to his thighs in evil-smelling swamp and his righteous indignation rose to high heaven. On these occasions, McPhail merely cast him a look of infinite exasperation and pointed a warning finger of silence at his lips. Eventually, the trees began to thin out and the two wayfarers could travel abreast. Suddenly, Speer gagged and began laughing silently. McPhail glanced up suspiciously. "What's got you now?" he inquired. "I was just thinking of a guy I know in Washington", choked Speer. "He spent four hours last week--I mean six thousand years to come--proving to me that time travel is utterly impossible. He convinced me, too. That's the cream of the jest--the first guy ever to convince me of anything, and he had to be proved wrong like this!" Once more, he gave himself up to mirth. McPhail lifted a warning arm and "pist"ed softly. "Wassermarrer, Dan, got hay-fever?" "Cut the wise-cracks. Didn't you hear that cry--it sounded like someone was calling us." "Yeah, I suppose it was Big chief Spitting Ray-Gun calling for a Convention program, or...." "There, again! Can't you hear it? Come on, it may be Dick in trouble." This time, Speer had heard it, and galloped off alongside of McPhail without further parley. As they cleared the outskirts of of the forest, the moon was rising and outlined against its globe, they saw a wild figure staggering along and mouthing meaningless cries. McPhail filled his lungs with air and hallooed vigorously. "Dick!" he roared, "It's us--Fonepole and me!" Wilson looked up and laughed hysterically. "God! Event heir ghosts don't know grammar!" he howled, and dropped in a dead faint. **************** So eager was McPhail on reviving Wilson that he did not look back along the trail. Speer did, but his unpractised eye did not observe the glint of moonshine on lances which poked their lengths from the sheltering leaves. In the forest, Wa-hakatee looked round at his warriors and his lips snarled into a grin. As Wilson revived under McPhail's tending, the indian loosed an ear-splitting war-whoop and Wilson promptly descended once more into the arms of Morpheus. The end of part IV __________________________
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
