Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Science fiction
Closer and closer we came, one of us drifting helplessly, and the other
swimming strongly for the islands. When we were about a furlong apart
the great beast seemed to change its course, mayhap it took the
wreckage on which I floated for an outlying shoal, something on which
it could rest a space in that long swim. Be this as it may, the beast
came hurtling down on me lip deep in the waves, a mighty brown head
with pricked ears that flicked the water from them now and then, small
bright eyes set far back, and wide palmated antlers on a mighty
forehead, like the dead branches of a tree. What that Martian mountain
elk had hoped for can only be guessed, what he met with was a tangle of
floating finery carrying a numbed traveller on it, and with a snort of
disappointment he turned again.
It was a poor chance, but better than nothing, and as he turned I tried
to throw a strand of silk I had unwound from the sodden mass over his
branching tines. Quick as thought the beast twisted his head aside and
tossed his antlers so that the try was fruitless. But was I to lose my
only chance of shore? With all my strength I hurled myself upon him,
missing my clutch again by a hair's-breadth and going headlong into the
salt furrow his chest was turning up. Happily I kept hold of the web,
for the great elk then turned back, passing between me and the ruck of
stuff and getting thereby the silk under his chin, and as I came
gasping to the top once more round came that dainty wreckage over his
back, and I clutched it, and sooner than it takes to tell I was towing
to the shore as perhaps no one was ever towed before.
The big beast dragged the ruck like withered weed behind him, bellowing
all the time with a voice which made the hills echo all round; and
then, when he got his feet upon the shallows, rose dripping and
mountainous, a very cliff of black hide and limb against the night
shine, and with a single sweep of his antlers tore the webbing from me,
who lay prone and breathless in the mud, and, thinking it was his
enemy, hurled the limp bundle on the beach, and then, having pounded it
with his cloven feet into formless shreds, bellowed again victoriously
and went off into the darkness of the forests.
CHAPTER IX
I landed, stiff enough as you will guess, but pleased to be on shore
again. It was a melancholy neighbourhood of low islands, overgrown
with rank grass and bushes, salt water encircling them, and inside
sandy dunes and hummocks with shallow pools, gleaming ghostly in the
retreating daylight, while beyond these rose the black bosses of what
looked like a forest. Thither I made my way, plunging uncomfortably
through shallows, and tripping over blackened branches which, lying
just below the surface, quivered like snakes as the evening breeze
ruffled each surface, until the ground hardened under foot, and
presently I was standing, hungry and faint but safe, on dry land again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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