"It's a chance," Sears Oliphant said in a level, careful voice. "Doc
knows what he's doing. Ed, you should know you can't stop him."
Wright was pointing to Paul's bandaged shoulder and to the giant's
wound. The high furred forehead puckered in obvious effort. Dorothy
was choking on a word or two: "Doc--must you--"
"He knows we're friends. He's been watching a long time. He saw Paul
get hurt and then bandaged." The giant's trembling was only a
spasmodic shuddering. "Man--man...." Wright snipped off gauze. "And he
knows that thing is a weapon, Ed. Will you put it away?"
"He could break you in two. You know that, don't you?"
"But he won't. Give protoplasm a chance." Now Wright was winding gauze
lightly, firmly, hiding the already clotting blood, and the giant made
no move of rejection. "Man--man."
"Man." The giant murmured it cautiously, prolonging the vowel; he
touched his chest. "_Essa kana._" A finger ran exploringly over the
gauze.
"Essa kana--man," said Wright, and swayed on his feet.
The giant pointed at the bloody mess on the ground and rumbled:
"_Kawan_." He shuddered, and his arm swept in a loose gesture that
appeared to indicate the curving quarter mile where lake and jungle
met each other in a black-water marsh. Then he was staring out,
muttering, at the wings in the meadow, and presently he touched Paul's
bandage with fantastic lightness. "_Omasha_," he said, pointing at the
flying beasts. He indicated the rifle wobbling in Sears' arm and held
up two fingers. "Omasha."
"Yes, we killed two omasha. Sears-man. Paul-man. Wright-man."