She wheeled on me like a tigress and slapped my face, and then she
whipped the dagger from the scabbard at her girdle. “How dared you,” she
cried, “lay a hand upon me! I should kill you.”
“Why don’t you?” I asked.
“I loathe you,” she said, and it sounded as though she meant it.
“I love you,” I replied, and I knew that I spoke the truth.
At that declaration her eyes did indeed reflect horror. She wheeled then
so quickly that I could not stop her and was gone. I stood for a moment,
debating whether I should follow her or not, and then a modicum of
reason intervened to save me from such an asininity. An instant later I
had vaulted the fence again. I did not know whether anyone had seen me
or not, and I did not care.
When Danus returned a short time later, he told me that Mintep had sent
him for me. I wondered if the summons was in any way related to my
adventure in the garden at the right, but I did not inquire. If it were,
I should know in due time. The attitude of Danus was unchanged, but that
no longer reassured me. I was beginning to suspect that the Amtorians
were masters of dissimulation.
Two young officers from the quarters adjoining mine accompanied us to
the chamber where the jong was to question me. Whether or not they were
acting as an escort to prevent my escape I could not tell. They chatted
pleasantly with me during the short walk along the corridor and up the
staircase to the level above; but then the guards usually chat
pleasantly with the condemned man, if he feels like chatting. They
accompanied me into the room where the jong sat. This time he was not
alone; there were a number of men gathered about him, and among these I
recognized Duran, Olthar, and Kamlot. For some reason the assemblage
reminded me of a grand jury, and I could not help but wonder if they
were going to return a true bill.
I bowed to the jong, who greeted me quite pleasantly enough, and smiled
and nodded to the three men in whose home I had spent my first night on
Venus. Mintep looked me over in silence for a moment or two; when he had
seen me before I had been dressed in my earthly clothes, now I was
garbed (or ungarbed) like a Vepajan.
“Your skin is not as light in color as I thought it,” he commented.
“Exposure to light on the veranda has darkened it,” I replied. I could
not say sunlight, because they have no word for sun, of the existence of
which they do not dream. However, such was the case, the ultra violet
rays of sunlight having penetrated the cloud envelopes surrounding the
planet and tanned my body quite as effectively as would exposure to the
direct rays of the sun have done.
“You have been quite happy here, I trust,” he said.
“I have been treated with kindness and consideration,” I replied, “and
have been quite as happy as any prisoner could reasonably be expected to
be.”
The shadow of a smile touched his lips. “You are candid,” he commented.
“Candor is a characteristic of the country from which I come,” I
replied.
“However, I do not like the word prisoner,” he said.
“Neither do I, jong, but I like the truth. I have been a prisoner, and I
have been awaiting this opportunity to ask you why I am a prisoner and
to demand my freedom.”
He raised his eyebrows; then he smiled quite openly. “I think that I am
going to like you,” he said; “you are honest and you are courageous, or
I am no judge of men.”
I inclined my head in acknowledgment of the compliment. I had not
expected that he would receive my blunt demand in a spirit of such
generous understanding; but I was not entirely relieved, for experience
had taught me that these people could be very suave while being most
uncompromising.
“There are some things that I wish to tell you and some questions that I
wish to ask you,” he continued. “We are still beset by our enemies, who
yet send occasional raiding parties against us, who upon numerous
occasions have sought to introduce their spies among us. We have three
things that they require if they are not to suffer extinction:
scientific knowledge, and the brains and experience to apply it.
Therefore they go to any lengths to abduct our men, whom they purpose
holding in slavery and forcing to apply the knowledge that they
themselves do not have. They also abduct our women in the hope of
breeding children of greater mentality than those which are now born to
them.
“The story that you told of crossing millions of miles of space from
another world is, of course, preposterous and naturally aroused our
suspicions. We saw in you another Thorist spy, cleverly disguised. For
this reason you have been under the careful and intelligent observation
of Danus for many days. He reports that there is no doubt but that you
were totally ignorant of the Amtorian language when you came among us,
and as this is the only language spoken by any of the known races of the
world, we have come to the conclusion that your story may be, in part,
true. The fact that your skin, hair, and eyes differ in color from those
of any known race is further substantiation of this conclusion.
Therefore, we are willing to admit that you are not a Thorist, but the
questions remain: who are you, and from whence came you?”
“I have told only the truth,” I replied; “I have nothing to add other
than to suggest that you carefully consider the fact that the cloud
masses surrounding Amtor completely obscure your view and therefore your
knowledge of what lies beyond.”
He shook his head. “Let us not discuss it; it is useless to attempt to
overthrow the accumulated scientific research and knowledge of thousands
of years. We are willing to accept you as of another race, perhaps, as
was suggested by the clothing you wore upon your arrival, from cold and
dreary Karbol. You are free to come and go as you please. If you remain,
you must abide by the laws and customs of Vepaja, and you must become
self-supporting. What can you do?”
“I doubt that I can compete with Vepajans at their own trades or
professions,” I admitted, “but I can learn something if I am given
time.”
“Perhaps we can find someone who will undertake your training,” said the
jong, “and in the meantime you may remain in my house, assisting Danus.”
“We will take him into our house and train him,” spoke up Duran, “if he
cares to help us collect tarel and hunt.”
Tarel is the strong, silky fiber from which their cloth and cordage are
made. I imagined that collecting it would be tame and monotonous work,
but the idea of hunting appealed to me. In no event, however, could I
ignore Duran’s well-meant invitation, as I did not wish to offend him,
and, furthermore, anything would be acceptable that would provide the
means whereby I might become self-supporting. I therefore accepted his
offer, and, the audience being concluded, I bid good-bye to Danus, who
invited me to visit him often, and withdrew with Duran, Olthar, and
Kamlot.
As no mention had been made of the subject, I concluded that no one had
witnessed my encounter with the girl in the garden, who was still
uppermost in my thoughts and the principal cause of my regret that I was
to leave the house of the jong.
Once more I was established in the house of Duran, but this time in a
larger and more comfortable room. Kamlot took charge of me. He was the
younger of the brothers, a quiet, reserved man with the muscular
development of a trained athlete. After he had shown me my room, he took
me to another apartment, a miniature armory, in which were many spears,
swords, daggers, bows, shields, and almost countless arrows. Before a
window was a long bench with racks in which were tools of various
descriptions; above the bench were shelves upon which were stacked the
raw materials for the manufacture of bows, arrows, and spear shafts.
Near the bench were a forge and anvil, and there were sheets and rods
and ingots of metal stored near by.
“Have you ever used a sword?” he asked as he selected one for me.
“Yes, but for exercise only,” I replied; “in my country we have
perfected weapons that render a sword useless in combat.”
He asked me about these weapons and was much interested in my
description of earthly firearms. “We have a similar weapon on Amtor,” he
said. “We of Vepaja do not possess them, because the sole supply of the
material with which they are charged lies in the heart of the Thorist
country. When the weapons are made they are charged with an element that
emits a ray of extremely short wave length that is destructive of animal
tissue, but the element only emits these rays when exposed to the
radiation of another rare element. There are several metals that are
impervious to these rays. Those shields that you see hanging on the
walls, the ones that are metal covered, are ample protection from them.
A small shutter of similar metal is used in the weapon to separate the
two elements; when this shutter is raised and one element is exposed to
the emanations of the other, the destructive R-ray is released and
passes along the bore of the weapon toward the target at which the
latter has been aimed.
“My people invented and perfected this weapon,” he added ruefully, “and
now it has been turned against us; but we get along very well with what
we have, as long as we remain in our trees.
“In addition to a sword and dagger, you will need a bow, arrows, and a
spear,” and as he enumerated them he selected the various articles for
me, the last of which was really a short, heavy javelin. A swivelled
ring was attached to the end of the shaft of this weapon, and attached
to the ring was a long, slender cord with a hand loop at its extremity.
This cord, which was no heavier than ordinary wrapping twine, Kamlot
coiled in a peculiar way and tucked into a small opening in the side of
the shaft.
“What is the purpose of that cord?” I asked, examining the weapon.
“We hunt high in the trees,” he replied, “and if it were not for the
cord we should lose many spears.”
“But that cord is not heavy enough for that, is it?” I asked.
“It is of tarel,” he replied, “and could support the weight of ten men.
You will learn much of the properties and value of tarel before you have
been with us long. Tomorrow we shall go out together and gather some. It
has been rather scarce of late.”
At the evening meal that day I met Zuro and Alzo again, and they were
most gracious to me. In the evening they all joined in teaching me the
favorite Vepajan game, tork, which is played with pieces that are much
like those used in mah jong and bears a startling resemblance to poker.
I slept well that night in my new quarters and when daylight broke I
arose, for Kamlot had warned me that we should start early upon our
expedition. I cannot say that I looked forward with any considerable
degree of enthusiasm to spending the day gathering tarel. The climate of
Vepaja is warm and sultry, and I pictured the adventure as being about
as monotonous and disagreeable as picking cotton in Imperial Valley.
After a light breakfast, which I helped Kamlot to prepare, he told me to
get my weapons. “You should always wear your sword and dagger,” he
added.
“Even in the house?” I asked.
“Always, wherever you are,” he replied. “It is not only a custom, but it
is the law. We never know when we may be called upon to defend
ourselves, our houses, or our jong.”
“Those are all that I need bring, I suppose,” I remarked as I was
leaving the room.
“Bring your spear, of course; we are going to gather tarel,” he replied.
Why I should need a spear to gather tarel I could not imagine; but I
brought all the weapons that he had mentioned, and when I returned he
handed me a bag with a strap that went around my neck to support it at
my back.
“Is this for the tarel?” I asked.
He replied that it was.
“You do not expect to gather much,” I remarked.
“We may not get any,” he replied. “If we get a bagful between us we may
do some tall boasting when we return.”
I said no more, thinking it best to learn by experience rather than to
be continually revealing my lamentable ignorance. If tarel were as
scarce as his statement suggested, I should not have much picking to do,
and that suited me perfectly. I am not lazy, but I like work that keeps
my mind on the alert.
When we were both ready, Kamlot led the way upstairs, a procedure which
mystified me, but did not tempt me into asking any more questions. We
passed the two upper levels of the house and entered a dark, spiral
staircase that led still farther upward into the tree. We ascended this
for about fifteen feet, when Kamlot halted and I heard him fumbling with
something above me.
Presently the shaft was bathed with light, which I saw came through a
small circular opening that had been closed with a stout door. Through
this opening Kamlot crawled, and I followed him, to find myself on a
limb of the tree. My companion closed and locked the door, using a small
key. I now saw that the door was covered on the outside with bark, so
that when it was closed it would have been difficult for anyone to have
detected it.
With almost monkeylike agility, Kamlot ascended, while I, resembling
anything but a monkey in this respect, followed, thankful for the lesser
gravitational pull of Venus, however little less than that of earth it
might be, for I am not naturally arboreal.
After ascending about a hundred feet, Kamlot crossed to an adjacent
tree, the branches of which interlocked with those of the one we had
been ascending, and again the upward climb commenced. Occasionally the
Vepajan stopped to listen as we passed from tree to tree or clambered to
higher levels. After we had travelled for an hour or more, he stopped
again and waited until I had overtaken him. A finger on his lips
enjoined me to silence.
“Tarel,” he whispered, pointing through the foliage in the direction of
an adjacent tree.
I wondered why he had to whisper it, as my eyes followed the direction
of his index finger. Twenty feet away I saw what appeared to be a huge
spider web, partially concealed by the intervening foliage.
“Be ready with your spear,” whispered Kamlot. “Put your hand through the
loop. Follow me, but not too closely; you may need room to cast your
spear. Do you see him?”
“No,” I admitted. I saw nothing but the suggestion of a spider web; what
else I was supposed to see I did not know.
“Neither do I, but he may be hiding. Look up occasionally so that he
can’t take you by surprise from above.”
This was more exciting than picking cotton in Imperial Valley, though as
yet I did not know just what there was to be excited about. Kamlot did
not appear excited; he was very cool, but he was cautious. Slowly he
crept toward the great web, his javelin ready in his hand; and I
followed. When we were in full sight of it we saw that it was empty.
Kamlot drew his dagger.
“Start cutting it away,” he said. “Cut close to the branches and follow
the web around; I will cut in the other direction until we meet. Be
careful that you do not get enmeshed in it, especially if he happens to
return.”
“Can’t we go around it?” I asked.
Kamlot looked puzzled. “Why should we go around it?” he demanded, a
little shortly I thought.
“To get the tarel,” I replied.
“What do you suppose this is?” he demanded.
“A spider’s web.”
“It is tarel.”
I subsided. I had thought that the tarel he pointed at was beyond the
web, although I had seen nothing; but then of course I had not known
what tarel was or what it looked like. We had been cutting away for a
few minutes when I heard a noise in a tree near us. Kamlot heard it at
the same time.
“He is coming,” he said. “Be ready!” He slipped his dagger into his
sheath and grasped his spear. I followed his example.
The sound stopped, but I could see nothing through the foliage.
Presently there was a rustling among the foliage, and a face appeared
some fifteen yards from us. It was a hideous face—the face of a spider
tremendously enlarged. When the thing saw that we had discovered it, it
emitted the most frightful scream I had ever heard save once before.
Then I recognized them—the voice and the face. It had been a creature
such as this that had pursued my pursuer the night that I had dropped to
the causeway in front of the house of Duran.
“Be ready,” cautioned Kamlot; “he will charge.”
The words had scarcely crossed the lips of the Vepajan when the hideous
creature rushed toward us. Its body and legs were covered with long,
black hair, and there was a yellow spot the size of a saucer above each
eye. It screamed horribly as it came, as though to paralyze us with
terror.
Kamlot’s spear hand flew back and forward, and the heavy javelin,
rushing to meet the maddened creature, buried itself deeply in the
repulsive carcass; but it did not stop the charge. The creature was
making straight for Kamlot as I hurled my javelin, which struck it in
the side; but even this did not stop it, and to my horror I saw it seize
my companion as he fell back upon the great limb upon which he had
stood, with the spider on top of him.
The footing was secure enough for Kamlot and the spider, for they were
both accustomed to it, but to me it seemed very precarious. Of course
the tree limbs were enormous and often the branches were laced together,
yet I felt anything but secure. However, I had no time to think of that
now. If not already dead, Kamlot was being killed. Drawing my sword, I
leaped to the side of the huge arachnid and struck viciously at its
head, whereupon it abandoned Kamlot and turned upon me; but it was badly
wounded now and moved with difficulty.
As I struck at that hideous face, I was horrified to see that Kamlot lay
as though dead. He did not move. But I had only time for that single
brief glance. If I were not careful I, too, should soon be dead. The
thing confronting me seemed endowed with unsapable vitality. It was
oozing sticky blood from several wounds, at least two of which I thought
should have been almost instantly lethal; yet still it struggled to
reach me with the powerful claws that terminated its forelegs, that it
might draw me to those hideous jaws.
The Vepajan blade is a keen, two-edged affair, a little wider and
thicker near the point than at the haft, and, while not well balanced to
my way of thinking, is a deadly cutting weapon. I found it so in this my
first experience with it, for as a great claw reached out to seize me I
severed it with a single blow. At this the creature screamed more
horribly than ever, and with its last remaining vitality sprang upon me
as you have seen spiders spring upon their prey. I cut at it again as I
stepped back; and then thrust my point directly into that hideous
visage, as the weight of the creature overbore me and I went down
beneath it.
As it crashed upon me, my body toppled from the great branch upon which
I had been standing, and I felt myself falling. Fortunately, the
interlacing, smaller branches gave me some support; I caught at them and
checked my fall, bringing up upon a broad, flat limb ten or fifteen feet
below. I had clung to my sword, and being unhurt, clambered back as
quickly as I could to save Kamlot from further attack, but he needed no
protection—the great targo, as the creature is called, was dead.
Dead also was Kamlot; I could find no pulse nor detect any beating of
the heart. My own sank within my breast. I had lost a friend, I who had
so few here, and I was as utterly lost as one may be. I knew that I
could not retrace our steps to the Vepajan city, even though my life
depended upon my ability to do so, as it doubtless did. I could descend,
but whether I was still over the city or not I did not know; I doubted
it.
So this was gathering tarel; this was the occupation that I had feared
would bore me with its monotony!
VII
BY KAMLOT’S GRAVE
Having set out to gather tarel, I finished the work that Kamlot and I
had nearly completed when the targo attacked us; if I succeeded in
finding the city, I should at least bring something to show for our
efforts. But what about Kamlot? The idea of leaving the body here was
repugnant to me. Even in the brief association I had had with the man I
had come to like him and to look upon him as my friend. His people had
befriended me; the least that I could do would be to take his body back
to them. I realized, of course, that that was going to be something of a
job, but it must be done. Fortunately, I am extraordinarily muscular,
and then, too, the gravitational pull of Venus favored me more than
would that of earth, giving me an advantage of over twenty pounds in the
dead weight I should have to carry and even a little better than that in
the amount of my own live weight, for I am heavier than Kamlot.
With less difficulty than I had anticipated I succeeded in getting
Kamlot’s body onto my back and trussed there with the cord attached to
his javelin. I had previously strapped his weapons to him with strands
of the tarel that half filled my bag, for, being unfamiliar with all the
customs of the country, I did not know precisely what would be expected
of me in an emergency of this nature, and preferred to be on the safe
side.
The experiences of the next ten or twelve hours are a nightmare that I
should like to forget. Contact with the dead and naked body of my
companion was sufficiently gruesome, but the sense of utter bewilderment
and futility in this strange world was even more depressing. As the
hours passed, during which I constantly descended, except for brief
rests, the weight of the corpse seemed to increase. In life Kamlot would
have weighed about one hundred eighty pounds on earth, nearly one
hundred sixty on Venus, but by the time darkness enveloped the gloomy
forest I could have sworn that he weighed a ton.
So fatigued was I that I had to move very slowly, testing each new hand-
and foothold before trusting my tired muscles to support the burden they
were carrying, for a weak hold or a misstep would have plunged me into
eternity. Death was ever at my elbow.
It seemed to me that I descended thousands of feet and yet I had seen no
sign of the city. Several times I heard creatures moving through the
trees at a distance, and twice I heard the hideous scream of a targo.
Should one of these monstrous spiders attack me—well, I tried not to
think about that. Instead I tried to occupy my mind with recollections
of my earthly friends; I visualized my childhood days in India as I
studied under old Chand Kabi, I thought of dear old Jimmy Welsh, and I
recalled a bevy of girls I had liked and with some of whom I had almost
been serious. These recalled the gorgeous girl in the garden of the
jong, and the visions of the others faded into oblivion. Who was she?
What strange interdiction had forbidden her to see or to speak with me?
She had said that she loathed me, but she had heard me tell her that I
loved her. That sounded rather silly now that I gave it thought. How
could I love a girl the first instant that I laid eyes upon her, a girl
concerning whom I knew absolutely nothing, neither her age nor her name?
It was preposterous, yet I knew that it was true. I loved the nameless
beauty of the little garden.
Perhaps my preoccupation with these thoughts made me careless; I do not
know, but my mind was filled with them when my foot slipped a little
after night had fallen. I grasped for support, but the combined weights
of myself and the corpse tore my hands loose, and with my dead companion
I plunged downward into the darkness. I felt Death’s cold breath upon my
cheek.
We did not fall far, being brought up suddenly by something soft that
gave to our combined weights, then bounced up again, vibrating like a
safety net such as we have all seen used by aerial performers. In the
faint but all pervading light of the Amtorian night I could see what I
had already guessed—I had fallen into the web of one of Amtor’s
ferocious spiders!
I tried to crawl to an edge where I might seize hold of a branch and
drag myself free, but each move but entangled me the more. The situation
was horrible enough, but a moment later it became infinitely worse, as,
glancing about me, I saw at the far edge of the web the huge, repulsive
body of a targo.
I drew my sword and hacked at the entangling meshes of the web as the
fierce arachnid crept slowly toward me. I recall wondering if a fly
entangled in a spider’s web suffered the hopelessness and the mental
anguish that seized me as I realized the futility of my puny efforts to
escape this lethal trap and the ferocious monster advancing to devour
me. But at least I had some advantages that no fly enjoys. I had my
sword and a reasoning brain; I was not so entirely helpless as the poor
fly.
The targo crept closer and closer. It uttered no sound. I presume that
it was satisfied that I could not escape and saw no reason why it should
seek to paralyze me with fright. From a distance of about ten feet it
charged, moving with incredible swiftness upon its eight hairy legs. I
met it with the point of my sword.
There was no skill in my thrust; it was just pure luck that my point
penetrated the creature’s tiny brain. When it collapsed lifeless beside
me, I could scarcely believe the testimony of my eyes. I was saved!
Instantly I fell to work severing the strands of tarel that enmeshed me,
and in four or five minutes I was free and had lowered myself to a
branch below. My heart was still pounding rapidly and I was weak from
exhaustion. For a quarter of an hour I remained resting; then I
continued the seemingly endless descent out of this hideous forest.
What other dangers confronted me I could not guess. I knew that there
were other creatures in this gigantic wood; those powerful webs, capable
of sustaining the weight of an ox, had not been built for man alone.
During the preceding day I had caught occasional glimpses of huge birds,
which might themselves, if carnivorous, prove as deadly menaces as the
targo; but it was not them that I feared now, but the nocturnal prowlers
that haunt every forest by night.
Down and down I descended, feeling that each next moment must witness
the final collapse of my endurance. The encounter with the targo had
taken terrific toll of my great strength, already sapped by the arduous
experiences of the day, yet I could not stop, I dared not. Yet how much
longer could I drive exhausted nature on toward the brink of utter
collapse?
I had about reached the end of my endurance when my feet struck solid
ground. At first I could not believe the truth, but glancing down and
about me I saw that I had indeed reached the floor of the forest; after
a month on Venus I had at last placed foot upon her surface. I could see
little or nothing—just the enormous boles of great trees in whatever
direction I looked. Beneath my feet lay a thick matting of fallen
leaves, turned white in death.
I cut the cords that bound the corpse of Kamlot to my back and lowered
my poor comrade to the ground; then I threw myself down beside him and
was asleep almost immediately.
When I awoke, it was daylight again. I looked about me, but could see
nothing but the counterpane of whitened leaves spread between the boles
of trees of such gargantuan girth that I almost hesitate to suggest the
size of some of them, lest I discredit the veracity of this entire story
of my experiences on Venus. But indeed they must needs be huge to
support their extraordinary height, for many of them towered over six
thousand feet above the surface of the ground, their lofty pinnacles
enshrouded forever in the eternal fog of the inner cloud envelope.
To suggest an idea of the size of some of these monsters of the forest,
I may say that I walked around the bole of one, counting over a thousand
paces in the circuit, which gives, roughly, a diameter of a thousand
feet, and there were many such. A tree ten feet in diameter appeared a
frail and slender sapling—and there can be no vegetation upon Venus!
What little knowledge of physics I had and a very slight acquaintance
with botany argued that trees of such height could not exist, but there
must be some special, adaptive forces operating on Venus that permit the
seemingly impossible. I have attempted to figure it out in terms of
earthly conditions, and I have arrived at some conclusions that suggest
possible explanations for the phenomenon. If vertical osmosis is
affected by gravity, then the lesser gravity of Venus would favor the
growth of taller trees, and the fact that their tops are forever in the
clouds would permit them to build up an ample supply of carbohydrates
from the abundant water vapor, provided there was the requisite amount
of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere of Venus to promote this
photosynthetic process.
I must admit, however, that at the time I was not greatly interested in
these intriguing speculations; I had to think about myself and poor
Kamlot. What was I to do with the corpse of my friend? I had done my
best to return him to his people, and failed. I doubted now that I could
ever find his people. There remained but a single alternative; I must
bury him.
This decided, I started to scrape away the leaves beside him, that I
might reach the ground beneath and dig a grave. There were about a foot
of leaves and leaf mold and below that a soft, rich soil which I
loosened easily with the point of my spear and scooped out with my
hands. It did not take me long to excavate a nice grave; it was six feet
long, two feet wide, and three feet deep. I gathered some freshly fallen
leaves and carpeted its bottom with them, and then I gathered some more
to place around and over Kamlot after I had lowered him to his final
resting place.
While I worked I tried to recall the service for the dead; I wanted
Kamlot to have as decent and orderly a burial as I could contrive. I
wondered what God would think about it, but I had no doubt but that he
would receive this first Amtorian soul to be launched into the unknown
with a Christian burial and welcome him with open arms.
As I stooped and put my arms about the corpse to lower it into the
grave, I was astounded to discover that it was quite warm. This put an
entirely new aspect on the matter. A man dead for eighteen hours should
be cold. Could it be that Kamlot was not dead? I pressed an ear to his
chest; faintly I heard the beating of his heart. Never before had I
experienced such an access of relief and joy. I felt as one reborn to
new youth, to new hopes, to new aspirations. I had not realized until
that instant the depth of my loneliness.
But why was Kamlot not dead? and how was I to resuscitate him? I felt
that I should understand the former before I attempted the latter. I
examined the wound again. There were two deep gashes on his chest just
below the presternum. They had bled but little, and they were
discolored, as I now noticed, by a greenish tint. It was this,
meaningless though it may be, that suggested an explanation of Kamlot’s
condition. Something about that greenish tint suggested poison to my
mind, and at once I recalled that there were varieties of spiders that
paralyzed their victims by injecting a poison into them that preserved
them in a state of suspended animation until they were ready to devour
them. The targo had paralyzed Kamlot!
My first thought was to stimulate circulation and respiration, and to
this end I alternately massaged his body and applied the first aid
measures adapted to the resuscitation of the drowned. Which of these
accomplished the result I do not know (perhaps each helped a little),
but at any rate I was rewarded after a long period of effort with
evidences of returning animation. Kamlot sighed and his eyelids
fluttered. After another considerable period, during which I nearly
exhausted myself, he opened his eyes and looked at me.
At first his gaze was expressionless and I thought that perhaps his mind
had been affected by the poison; then a puzzled, questioning look
entered his eyes and eventually recognition. I was witnessing a
resurrection.
“What happened?” he asked in a whisper, and then, “Oh, yes, I recall;
the targo got me.” He sat up, with my assistance, and looked around.
“Where are we?” he demanded.
“On the ground,” I replied, “but where on the ground I do not know.”
“You saved me from the targo,” he said. “Did you kill it? But you must
have, or you never could have gotten me away from it. Tell me about it.”
Briefly, I told him. “I tried to get you back to the city, but I became
lost and missed it. I have no idea where it lies.”
“What is this?” he asked, glancing at the excavation beside him.
“Your grave,” I replied. “I thought that you were dead.”
“And you carried a corpse half a day and half a night! But why?”
“I do not know all the customs of your people,” I replied; “but your
family has been kind to me, and the least that I could do was to bring
your body back to them, nor could I leave a friend up there to be
devoured by birds and beasts.”
“I shall not forget,” he said quietly. He tried to rise then, but I had
to assist him. “I shall be all right presently,” he assured me, “after I
have exercised a little. The effects of the targo’s poison wear off in
about twenty-four hours even without treatment. What you have done for
me has helped to dissipate them sooner, and a little exercise will
quickly eradicate the last vestiges of them.” He stood looking about as
though in an effort to orient himself, and as he did so his eyes fell
upon his weapons, which I had intended burying with him and which lay on
the ground beside the grave. “You even brought these!” he exclaimed.
“You are a jong among friends!”
After he had buckled his sword belt about his hips, he picked up his
spear, and together we walked through the forest, searching for some
sign that would indicate that we had reached a point beneath the city,
Kamlot having explained that trees along the important trails leading to
the location of the city were marked in an inconspicuous and secret
manner, as were certain trees leading upward to the hanging city.
“We come to the surface of Amtor but seldom,” he said, “though
occasionally trading parties descend and go to the coast to meet vessels
from the few nations with which we carry on a surreptitious commerce.
The curse of Thorism has spread far, however, and there are few nations
of which we have knowledge that are not subject to its cruel and selfish
domination. Once in a while we descend to hunt the basto for its hide
and flesh.”
“What is a basto?” I inquired.
“It is a large, omnivorous animal with powerful jaws armed with four
great fangs in addition to its other teeth. On its head grow two heavy
horns. At the shoulder it is as tall as a tall man. I have killed them
that weighed thirty-six hundred tob.”
A tob is the Amtorian unit of weight, and is the equivalent of one third
of an English pound; all weights are computed in tobs or decimals
thereof, as they use the decimal system exclusively in their tables of
weights and measures. It seems to me much more practical than the
confusing earthly collection of grains, grams, ounces, pounds, tons, and
the other designations in common use among the various nations of our
planet.
From Kamlot’s description I visualized the basto as an enormous boar
with horns, or a buffalo with the jaws and teeth of a carnivore, and
judged that its twelve hundred pounds of weight would render it a most
formidable beast. I asked him with what weapons they hunted the animal.
“Some prefer arrows, others spears,” he explained, “and it is always
handy to have a low branched tree near by,” he added with a grin.
“They are bellicose?” I asked.
“Very. When a basto appears upon the scene, man is as often the hunted
as the hunter, but we are not hunting bastos now. What I should most
like to find is a sign that would tell me where we are.”
We moved on through the forest, searching for the tiny road signs of the
Vepajans, which Kamlot had described to me as well as explaining the
location in which they are always placed. The sign consists of a long,
sharp nail with a flat head bearing a number in relief. These nails are
driven into trees at a uniform height from the ground. They are
difficult to find, but it is necessary to have them so, lest the enemies
of the Vepajans find and remove them, or utilize them in their search
for the cities of the latter.
The method of the application of these signs to the requirements of the
Vepajans is clever. They would really be of little value to any but a
Vepajan as guide posts, yet each nail tells a remarkable story to the
initiated; briefly it tells him precisely where he is on the island that
comprises the kingdom of Mintep, the jong. Each nail is placed in
position by a surveying party and its exact location is indicated on a
map of the island, together with the number on the head of the nail.
Before a Vepajan is permitted to descend to the ground alone, or to lead
others there, he must memorize the location of every sign nail in
Vepaja. Kamlot had done so. He told me that if we could find but a
single nail he would immediately know the direction of and distance to
those on either side of it, our exact position upon the island, and the
location of the city; but he admitted that we might wander a long time
before we discovered a single nail.
The forest was monotonously changeless. There were trees of several
species, some with branches that trailed the ground, others bare of
branches for hundreds of feet from their bases. There were boles as
smooth as glass and as straight as a ship’s mast, without a single
branch as far up as the eye could see. Kamlot told me that the foliage
of these grew in a single enormous tuft far up among the clouds.
I asked him if he had ever been up there, and he said he had climbed, he
believed, to the top of the tallest tree, but that he had nearly frozen
to death in the attempt. “We get our water supply from these trees,” he
remarked. “They drink in the water vapor among the clouds and carry it
down to their roots. They are unlike any other tree. A central, porous
core carries the water from the clouds to the roots, from whence it
rises again in the form of sap that carries the tree’s food upward from
the ground. By tapping one of these trees anywhere you may obtain a
copious supply of clear, cool water—a fortunate provision of—”
“Something is coming, Kamlot,” I interrupted. “Do you hear it?”
He listened intently for a moment. “Yes,” he replied. “We had better
take to a tree, at least until we see what it is.”
As he climbed into the branches of a near-by tree, I followed him; and
there we waited. Distinctly I could hear something moving through the
forest as it approached us. The soft carpet of leaves beneath its feet
gave forth but little sound—just a rustling of the dry leaves. Nearer
and nearer it came, apparently moving leisurely; then, suddenly, its
great head came into view from behind the bole of a tree a short
distance from us.
“A basto,” whispered Kamlot, but from his previous description of the
beast I had already guessed its identity.
It looked like a basto, only more so. From the eyes up its head
resembled that of an American bison, with the same short, powerful
horns. Its poll and forehead were covered with thick, curly hair, its
eyes were small and red-rimmed. Its hide was blue and of about the same
texture as that of an elephant, with sparsely growing hairs except upon
the head and at the tip of the tail. It stood highest at the shoulders
and sloped rapidly to its rump. Its front legs were short and stocky and
ended in broad, three-toed feet; its hind legs were longer and the hind
feet smaller, a difference necessitated by the fact that the forelegs
and feet carried fully three quarters of the beast’s weight. Its muzzle
was similar to that of a boar, except that it was broader, and carried
heavy, curved tusks.
“Here comes our next meal,” remarked Kamlot in an ordinary tone of
voice. The basto stopped and looked about as he heard my companion’s
voice. “They are mighty good eating,” added Kamlot, “and we have not
eaten for a long while. There is nothing like a basto steak grilled over
a wood fire.”
My mouth commenced to water. “Come on,” I said, and started to climb
down from the tree, my spear ready in my hand.
“Come back!” called Kamlot. “You don’t know what you are doing.”
The basto had located us and was advancing, uttering a sound that would
have put to shame the best efforts of a full-grown lion. I do not know
whether to describe it as a bellow or a roar. It started with a series
of grunts and then rose in volume until it shook the ground.
“He seems to be angry,” I remarked; “but if we are going to eat him we
must kill him first, and how are we to kill him if we remain in the
tree?”
“I am not going to remain in the tree,” replied Kamlot, “but you are.
You know nothing about hunting these beasts, and you would probably not
only get yourself killed but me into the bargain. You stay where you
are. I will attend to the basto.”
This plan did not suit me at all, but I was forced to admit Kamlot’s
superior knowledge of things Amtorian and his greater experience and
defer to his wishes; but nevertheless I held myself ready to go to his
assistance should occasion require.
To my surprise, he dropped his spear to the ground and carried in its
stead a slender leafy branch which he cut from the tree before
descending to engage the bellowing basto. He did not come down to the
floor of the forest directly in front of the beast, but made his way
part way around the tree before descending, after asking me to keep the
basto’s attention diverted, which I did by shouting and shaking a branch
of the tree.
Presently, to my horror, I saw Kamlot out in the open a dozen paces in
rear of the animal, armed only with his sword and the leafy branch which
he carried in his left hand. His spear lay on the ground not far from
the enraged beast and his position appeared utterly hopeless should the
basto discover him before he could reach the safety of another tree.
Realizing this, I redoubled my efforts to engage the creature’s
attention, until Kamlot shouted to me to desist.
I thought that he must have gone crazy and should not have heeded him
had not his voice attracted the attention of the basto and frustrated
any attempt that I might have made to keep the beast’s eyes upon me. The
instant that Kamlot called to me the great head turned ponderously in
his direction and the savage eyes discovered him. The creature wheeled
and stood for a moment eyeing the rash but puny man-thing; then it
trotted toward him.
I waited no longer but dropped to the ground with the intention of
attacking the thing from the rear. What happened thereafter happened so
quickly that it was over almost in the time it takes to tell it. As I
started in pursuit, I saw the mighty basto lower its head and charge
straight for my companion, who stood there motionless with his puny
sword and the leafy branch grasped one in either hand. Suddenly, at the
very instant that I thought the creature was about to impale him on
those mighty horns, he waved the leaf covered branch in its face and
leaped lightly to one side, simultaneously driving the keen point of his
blade downward from a point in front of the left shoulder until the
steel was buried to the hilt in the great carcass.
The basto stopped, its four legs spread wide; for an instant it swayed,
and then it crashed to the ground at the feet of Kamlot. A shout of
admiration was on my lips when I chanced to glance upward. What
attracted my attention I do not know, perhaps the warning of that
inaudible voice which we sometimes call a sixth sense. What I saw drove
the basto and the feat of Kamlot from my thoughts.
“My God!” I cried in English, and then in Amtorian, “Look, Kamlot! What
are those?”
VIII
ON BOARD THE SOFAL
Hovering just above us, I saw what at first appeared to be five enormous
birds; but which I soon recognized, despite my incredulity, as winged
men. They were armed with swords and daggers, and each carried a long
rope at the end of which dangled a wire noose.
“Voo klangan!” shouted Kamlot. (The bird-men!)
Even as he spoke a couple of wire nooses settled around each of us. We
struggled to free ourselves, striking at the snares with our swords, but
our blades made no impression upon the wires, and the ropes to which
they were attached were beyond our reach. As we battled futilely to
disengage ourselves, the klangan settled to the ground, each pair upon
opposite sides of the victim they had snared. Thus they held us so that
we were helpless, as two cowboys hold a roped steer, while the fifth
angan approached us with drawn sword and disarmed us. (Perhaps I should
explain that angan is singular, klangan plural, plurals of Amtorian
words being formed by prefixing kloo to words commencing with a
consonant and kl to those commencing with a vowel.)
Our capture had been accomplished so quickly and so deftly that it was
over, with little or no effort on the part of the birdmen, before I had
had time to recover from the astonishment that their weird appearance
induced. I now recalled having heard Danus speak of _voo klanagan_ upon
one or two occasions, but I had thought that he referred to poultry
breeders or something of that sort. How little could I have dreamed of
the reality!
“I guess we are in for it,” remarked Kamlot gloomily.
“What will they do with us?” I inquired.
“Ask them,” he replied.
“Who are you?” demanded one of our captors.
For some reason I was astonished to hear him speak, although I do not
know why anything should have astonished me now. “I am a stranger from
another world,” I told him. “My friend and I have no quarrel with you.
Let us go.”
“You are wasting your breath,” Kamlot advised me.
“Yes, he is wasting his breath,” agreed the angan. “You are Vepajans,
and we have orders to bring Vepajans to the ship. You do not look like a
Vepajan,” he added, surveying me from head to feet, “but the other
does.”
“Anyway, you are not a Thorist, and therefore you must be an enemy,”
interjected another.
They removed the nooses from about us and tied ropes around our necks
and other ropes about our bodies beneath our arms; then two klangan
seized the ropes attached to Kamlot and two more those attached to me,
and, spreading their wings, rose into the air, carrying us with them.
Our weight was supported by the ropes beneath our arms, but the other
ropes were a constant suggestion to us of what might happen if we did
not behave ourselves.
As they flew, winding their way among the trees, our bodies were
suspended but a few feet above the ground, for the forest lanes were
often low ceiled by overhanging branches. The klangan talked a great
deal among themselves, shouting to one another and laughing and singing,
seemingly well satisfied with themselves and their exploit. Their voices
were soft and mellow, and their songs were vaguely reminiscent of Negro
spirituals, a similarity which may have been enhanced by the color of
their skins, which were very dark.
As Kamlot was carried in front of me, I had an opportunity to observe
the physical characteristics of these strange creatures into whose hands
we had fallen. They had low, receding foreheads, huge, beaklike noses,
and undershot jaws; their eyes were small and close set, their ears flat
and slightly pointed. Their chests were large and shaped like those of
birds, and their arms were very long, ending in long-fingered,
heavy-nailed hands. The lower part of the torso was small, the hips
narrow, the legs very short and stocky, ending in three-toed feet
equipped with long, curved talons. Feathers grew upon their heads
instead of hair. When they were excited, as when they attacked us, these
feathers stand erect, but ordinarily they lie flat. They are all alike;
commencing near the root they are marked with a band of white, next
comes a band of black, then another of white, and the tip is red.
Similar feathers also grow at the lower extremity of the torso in front,
and there is another, quite large bunch just above the buttocks—a
gorgeous tail which they open into a huge pompon when they wish to show
off.
Their wings, which consist of a very thin membrane supported on a light
framework, are similar in shape to those of a bat and do not appear
adequate to the support of the apparent weight of the creatures’ bodies,
but I was to learn later that this apparent weight is deceptive, since
their bones, like the bones of true birds, are hollow.
The creatures carried us a considerable distance, though how far I do
not know. We were in the air fully eight hours; and, where the forest
permitted, they flew quite rapidly. They seemed utterly tireless, though
Kamlot and I were all but exhausted long before they reached their
destination. The ropes beneath our arms cut into our flesh, and this
contributed to our exhaustion as did our efforts to relieve the agony by
seizing the ropes above us and supporting the weight of our bodies with
our hands.
But, as all things must, this hideous journey ended at last Suddenly we
broke from the forest and winged out across a magnificent land-locked
harbor, and for the first time I looked upon the waters of a Venusan
sea. Between two points that formed the harbor’s entrance I could see it
stretching away as far as the eye could reach—mysterious, intriguing,
provocative. What strange lands and stranger people lay off there beyond
the beyond? Would I ever know?
Suddenly now my attention and my thoughts were attracted to something in
the left foreground that I had not before noticed; a ship lay at anchor
on the quiet waters of the harbor and just beyond it a second ship.
Toward one of them our captors were winging. As we approached the nearer
and smaller, I saw a craft that differed but little in the lines of its
hull from earthly ships. It had a very high bow, its prow was sharp and
sloped forward in a scimitarlike curve; the ship was long and narrow of
beam. It looked as though it might have been built for speed. But what
was its motive power? It had no masts, sails, stacks, nor funnels. Aft
were two oval houses—a smaller one resting upon the top of a larger; on
top of the upper house was an oval tower surmounted by a small crow’s
nest. There were doors and windows in the two houses and the tower. As
we came closer, I could see a number of open hatches in the deck and
people standing on the walkways that surrounded the tower and the upper
house and also upon the main deck. They were watching our approach.
As our captors deposited us upon the deck, we were immediately
surrounded by a horde of jabbering men. A man whom I took to be an
officer ordered the ropes removed from us, and while this was being done
he questioned the klangan who had brought us.
All the men that I saw were similar in color and physique to the
Vepajans, but their countenances were heavy and unintelligent; very few
of them were good-looking, and only one or two might have been called
handsome. I saw evidences of age among them and of disease—the first I
had seen on Amtor.
After the ropes had been removed, the officer ordered us to follow him,
after detailing four villainous-looking fellows to guard us, and
conducted us aft and up to the tower that surmounted the smaller house.
Here he left us outside the tower, which he entered.
The four men guarding us eyed us with surly disfavor. “Vepajans, eh!”
sneered one. “Think you’re better than ordinary men, don’t you? But
you’ll find out you ain’t, not in The Free Land of Thora; there
everybody’s equal. I don’t see no good in bringing your kind into the
country anyway. If I had my way you’d get a dose of this,” and he tapped
a weapon that hung in a holster at his belt.
The weapon, or the grip of it, suggested a pistol of some kind, and I
supposed that it was one of those curious firearms discharging deadly
rays, that Kamlot had described to me. I was about to ask the fellow to
let me see it when the officer emerged from the tower and ordered the
guard to bring us in.
We were escorted into a room in which sat a scowling man with a most
unprepossessing countenance. There was a sneer on his face as he
appraised us, the sneer of the inferior man for his superior, that tries
to hide but only reveals the inferiority complex that prompts it. I knew
that I was not going to like him.
“Two more klooganfal!” he exclaimed. (A ganfal is a criminal.) “Two more
of the beasts that tried to grind down the workers; but you didn’t
succeed, did you? Now we are the masters. You’ll find that out even
before we reach Thora. Is either of you a doctor?”
Kamlot shook his head. “Not I,” he said.
The fellow, whom I took to be the captain of the ship, eyed me closely.
“You are no Vepajan,” he said. “What are you, anyway? No one ever saw a
man with yellow hair and blue eyes before.”
“As far as you are concerned,” I replied, “I am a Vepajan. I have never
been in any other country in Amtor.”
“What do you mean by saying as far as I am concerned?” he demanded.
“Because it doesn’t make any difference what you think about it,” I
snapped. I did not like the fellow, and when I do not like people I have
difficulty in hiding the fact. In this case I did not try to hide it.
He flushed and half rose from his chair. “It doesn’t, eh?” he cried.
“Sit down,” I advised him. “You’re here under orders to bring back
Vepajans. Nobody cares what you think about them, but you’ll get into
trouble if you don’t bring them back.”
Diplomacy would have curbed my tongue, but I am not particularly
diplomatic, especially when I am angry, and now I was both angry and
disgusted, for there had been something in the attitude of all these
people toward us that bespoke ignorant prejudice and bitterness.
Furthermore, I surmised from scraps of information I had picked up from
Danus, as well as from the remarks of the sailor who had announced that
he would like to kill us, that I was not far wrong in my assumption that
the officer I had thus addressed would be exceeding his authority if he
harmed us. However, I realized that I was taking chances, and awaited
with interest the effect of my words.
The fellow took them like a whipped cur and subsided after a single
weakly blustering, “We’ll see about that.” He turned to a book that lay
open before him. “What is your name?” he asked, nodding in Kamlot’s
direction. Even his nod was obnoxious.
“Kamlot of Zar,” replied my companion.
“What is your profession?”
“Hunter and wood carver.”
“You are a Vepajan?”
“Yes.”
“From what city of Vepaja?”
“From Kooaad,” replied Kamlot.
“And you?” demanded the officer, addressing me.
“I am Carson of Napier,” I replied, using the Amtorian form; “I am a
Vepajan from Kooaad.”
“What is your profession?”
“I am an _aviator_,” I replied, using the English word and English
pronunciation.
“A what?” he demanded. “I never heard of such a thing.” He tried to
write the word in his book and then he tried to pronounce it, but he
could do neither, as the Amtorians have no equivalents for many of our
vowel sounds and seem unable even to pronounce them. Had I written the
word for him in Amtorian he would have pronounced it ah-vy-ah-tore, as
they cannot form the long _a_ and short _o_ sounds, and their _i_ is
always long.
Finally, to cover his ignorance, he wrote something in his book, but
what it was I did not know; then he looked up at me again. “Are you a
doctor?”
“Yes,” I replied, and as the officer made the notation in his book, I
glanced at Kamlot out of the corner of an eye and winked.
“Take them away,” the man now directed, “and be careful of this one,” he
added, indicating me; “he is a doctor.”
We were taken to the main deck and led forward to the accompaniment of
jeers and jibes from the sailors congregated on the deck. I saw the
klangan strutting around, their tail feathers erect. When they saw us,
they pointed at Kamlot, and I heard them telling some of the sailors
that he was the one who had slain the basto with a single sword thrust,
a feat which appeared to force their admiration, as well it might have.
We were escorted to an open hatch and ordered below into a dark, poorly
ventilated hole, where we found several other prisoners. Some of them
were Thorans undergoing punishment for infractions of discipline; others
were Vepajan captives like ourselves, and among the latter was one who
recognized Kamlot and hailed him as we descended into their midst.
“Jodades, Kamlot!” he cried, voicing the Amtorian greeting
“luck-to-you.”
“Ra jodades,” replied Kamlot; “what ill fortune brings Honan here?”
“‘Ill fortune’ does not describe it,” replied Honan; “catastrophe would
be a better word. The klangan were seeking women as well as men; they
saw Duare” (pronounced Doo-ah-ree) “and pursued her; as I sought to
protect her they captured me.”
“Your sacrifice was not in vain,” said Kamlot; “had you died in the
performance of such a duty it would not have been in vain.”
“But it was in vain; that is the catastrophe.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Kamlot.
“I mean that they got her,” replied Honan dejectedly.
“They captured Duare!” exclaimed Kamlot in tones of horror. “By the life
of the jong, it cannot be.”
“I wish it were not,” said Honan.
“Where is she? on this ship?” demanded Kamlot.
“No; they took her to the other, the larger one.”
Kamlot appeared crushed, and I could only attribute his dejection to the
hopelessness of a lover who has irretrievably lost his beloved. Our
association had not been either sufficiently close nor long to promote
confidences, and so I was not surprised that I had never heard him
mention the girl, Duare, and, naturally, under the circumstances, I
could not question him concerning her. I therefore respected his grief
and his silence, and left him to his own sad thoughts.
Shortly after dawn the following morning the ship got under way. I
wished that I might have been on deck to view the fascinating sights of
this strange world, and my precarious situation as a prisoner of the
hated Thorists engendered less regret than the fact that I, the first
earth man to sail the seas of Venus, was doomed to be cooped up in a
stuffy hole below deck where I could see nothing. But if I had feared
being kept below for the duration of the voyage, I was soon
disillusioned, for shortly after the ship got under way we were all
ordered on deck and set to scrubbing and polishing.
As we came up from below, the ship was just passing between the two
headlands that formed the entrance to the harbor, in the wake of the
larger vessel; and I obtained an excellent view of the adjacent land,
the shore that we were leaving, and the wide expanse of ocean stretching
away to the horizon.
The headlands were rocky promontories clothed with verdure of delicate
hues and supporting comparatively few trees, which were of a smaller
variety than the giants upon the mainland. These latter presented a
truly awe inspiring spectacle from the open sea to the eyes of an earth
man, their mighty boles rearing their weirdly colored foliage straight
up for five thousand feet, where they were lost to view among the
clouds. But I was not permitted to gaze for long upon the wonders of the
scene. I had not been ordered above for the purpose of satisfying the
aesthetic longings of my soul.
Kamlot and I were set to cleaning and polishing guns. There were a
number of these on either side of the deck, one at the stern, and two on
the tower deck. I was surprised when I saw them, for there had been no
sign of armament when I came on board the preceding day; but I was not
long in discovering the explanation—the guns were mounted on
disappearing carriages, and when lowered, a sliding hatch, flush with
the deck, concealed them.
The barrels of these pieces were about eight inches in diameter, while
the bore was scarcely larger than my little finger; the sights were
ingenious and complicated, but there was no breech block in evidence nor
any opening into a breech, unless there was one hidden beneath a hoop
that encircled the breech, to which it was heavily bolted. The only
thing that I could discover that might have been a firing device
projected from the rear of the breech and resembled the rotating crank
that is used to revolve the breech block in some types of earthly guns.
The barrels of the guns were about fifteen feet long and of the same
diameter from breech to muzzle. When in action they can be extended
beyond the rail of the ship about two thirds of their length, thus
affording a wider horizontal range and more deck room, which would be of
value on a ship such as that on which I was a captive, which was of
narrow beam.
“What do these guns fire?” I asked Kamlot, who was working at my side.
“T-rays,” he replied.
“Do those differ materially from the R-rays you described when you were
telling me about the small arms used by the Thorans?”
“The R-ray destroys only animal tissue,” he replied, “while there is
nothing that the T-ray may not dissipate. It is a most dangerous ray to
work with because even the material of the gun barrel itself is not
wholly impervious to it, and the only reason that it can be used at all
is that its greatest force is expended along the line of least
resistance, which in this case naturally is the bore of the gun. But
eventually it destroys the gun itself.”
“How is it fired?” I asked.
He touched the crank at the end of the breech. “By turning this, a
shutter is raised that permits radiations from element 93 to impinge on
the charge, which consists of element 97, thus releasing the deadly
T-ray.”
“Why couldn’t we turn this gun about and rake the ship above deck,” I
suggested, “thus wiping out the Thorans and giving us our freedom?”