I moved the ship the next day. The stratagem worked satisfactorily
enough, enabling us to find almost a dozen more of the crimson jewels.
But the need for constant watchfulness proved to be an increasing
strain upon our nerves. And the number of the butterfly-creatures
seemed to be growing. It seemed to be a season for the things, as late
Spring brings the appearance of butterflies on Earth.
At last our treasure hunt became too dangerous to continue. The
butterfly-creatures were too numerous, and in addition the gems had
grown too hard to find. Pearce and I decided on one last trip, and this
on his own argumentative insistence.
It was during that final search that I made the discovery which led
to Pearce's death. I'd been probing among the rocks for an hour or
so, meanwhile keeping a wary eye upon a group of butterfly-creatures
circling in the sky some distance away. Suddenly I detected the
telltale, reddish glitter of a gem. As I reached for it, a thin,
tinkling sound startled me. I jerked erect, my senses flaring in alarm.
But I saw nothing near me that indicated danger, and reached once more
for the gem.
* * * * *
The next instant I leaped frantically to my feet and ran into the ship,
which rested nearby. I slammed shut the port, and leaned against it,
breathing harshly from my exertions and from fright at the narrowness
of my escape. Like the pieces of a puzzle falling together, something
became horribly clear to me. And I knew suddenly just what I had to do.
From the box in which Pearce and I had kept them, I took the gems.
Then I left the ship, first having made certain that none of the
butterfly-creatures were near, and with a large rock pounded each and
every one of the gems to bits.
I was finishing this task when Pearce returned. He stared at me and
asked:
"Why, what in the world have you been doing?"
I pulled my machine-pistol from its holster, pointed it at him, and
explained. I couldn't have taken any chances with Pearce. I knew what
his reaction would be. I wasn't wrong.
He seemed to go mad. His face darkened with a terrible, overwhelming
fury. "Lies! All lies!" he shrieked. "It's just a plot to trick me out
of my share."
I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen to me. He shouted
down my attempts with unspeakable profanity. My machine-pistol was the
only thing that kept him from tearing at me like an insensate beast.
I was trying to get Pearce to calm down when several
butterfly-creatures suddenly darted toward us. They had evidently been
circling nearer and nearer while we talked, seizing the opportunity
presented by our inattention.
My eyes jerked to the things instinctively--and as I did so, Pearce
leaped toward me. In pure reaction, I squeezed the trigger. The
stream of tungsten-steel pellets stopped him like a wall. Even if
I'd had the time to deliberate consciously over whether or not to
shoot, it wouldn't have ended any other way. For if Pearce had reached
me, a struggle would have followed which would have enabled the
butterfly-creatures to attack us.
Just an instant ahead of the butterfly-creatures, I jumped into the
ship and sealed the port. After resting for a while, I set out on the
return to Earth.
[Illustration: _I jumped into the ship and sealed the port._]
I told the authorities my story in full, holding nothing back. They
asked me to make this statement for their official records. There are,
of course, no charges against me. I should not have admitted to killing
Pearce had I been guilty of a crime. But I fear that the shadow of
suspicion will lay over me until another expedition returns from Venus
and verifies my words.
And in late Spring, when the cocoons open and the butterflies emerge,
I will always think of a similar season on Venus, when a similar event
occurs. When the crimson gems break open with a thin, tinkling sound,
and the exquisite, deadly butterfly-creatures flutter forth....