Science fiction -- Periodicals; Science fiction, American -- Periodicals
"Maybe this dum-dum will do some good," panted Nelson. "If it doesn't,
nothing will stop it!"
* * * * *
Again he sighted until, finding those small, orange red eyes in line
with his sight, he fired. This time the gray-brown monster uttered a
titantic bellow of rage, halted, and began shaking its clumsy blunt
head.
"Hit it, by God!" exulted Nelson, and seized the momentary respite to
slip two fresh cartridges into the Winchester's magazine.
But, to his inexpressible dismay, the monster presently resumed its
ponderous progress while the Jarmuthians in the howdah uttered
taunting yells that reached him faintly, while the sun flares glinted
on their brandished swords and lances. One of them plucked a fungus
grenade from his belt and flung it with all his might in Nelson's
direction. The missile fell to the earth far short of its destination
and seemed to break rather than explode, at the same time expelling
that deadly, greenish-yellow vapor which, blown away by a strong wind,
fortunately came nowhere near the doomed aviator.
"Oh! You will?"
Nelson sighted swiftly at the grenade-thrower and fired, whereupon the
Jarmuthian, some hundred and fifty yards distant, spun crazily about,
flung both arms towards the amber-yellow sky and toppled from the
howdah, for all the world like a diver in quest of pearls.
From both breathless armies rose a terrific shout. Accustomed as they
were to the visible destruction of the retortii, this noisy yet
invisible death was appalling.
But Nelson's agonized attention was not on the assembled armies, for
nearer came the mountainous diplodocus, its lumbering strides making
the howdah sway like a ship in a gale and preventing use of the
portable retortii.
* * * * *
Nelson planted both feet, took fresh grip on his waning courage and
shot again, this time aiming at a gigantic, black bearded warrior who
seemed to be training one of those portable retortii upon him.
Again the Winchester cracked and this time the black bearded man sank
from sight back into the howdah, while his companions, uttering
vengeful shouts, tossed more fungus bombs at the lone heroic figure
barring their progress towards the six bound and shrieking maidens.
Towering thrice as high as the largest African elephant, the
diplodocus was now but seventy-five yards away. He had hit it, that
Nelson could tell, for a large shower of blood sprayed from the
monster's neck. Then, uttering a despairing curse, he sent a shot
smacking squarely into the left shoulder, at the base of that mastlike
neck with fervent hope of finding the heart. But the heavy bullet
bothered the cyclopean reptile no more than a sting of a mosquito.
On, on it came. In another minute it must stamp out Victor Nelson's
life beneath feet as large as hogsheads.
"Damn!"
Nelson snapped the ejector lever, throwing out the spent cartridge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account