As these thoughts flashed through his mind, the Wieroo held out a pen
of bone fixed to a wooden holder and at the same time made a sign that
Bradley was to write upon the paper. It was difficult to judge from
the expressionless features of the Wieroo what was passing in the
creature's mind, but Bradley could not but feel that the thing cast a
supercilious glance upon him as much as to say, "Of course you do not
know how to write, you poor, low creature; but you can make your mark."
Bradley seized the pen and in a clear, bold hand wrote: "John Bradley,
England." The Wieroo showed evidences of consternation as it seized
the piece of paper and examined the writing with every mark of
incredulity and surprise. Of course it could make nothing of the
strange characters; but it evidently accepted them as proof that
Bradley possessed knowledge of a written language of his own, for
following the Englishman's entry it made a few characters of its own.
"You will come here again just before Lua hides his face behind the
great cliff," announced the creature, "unless before that you are
summoned by Him Who Speaks for Luata, in which case you will not have
to eat any more."
"Reassuring cuss," thought Bradley as he turned and left the building.
Outside were several Wieroos that had been eating at the pedestals
within. They immediately surrounded him, asking all sorts of
questions, plucking at his garments, his ammunition-belt and his
pistol. Their demeanor was entirely different from what it had been
within the eating-place and Bradley was to learn that a house of food
was sanctuary for him, since the stern laws of the Wieroos forbade
altercations within such walls. Now they were rough and threatening,
as with wings half spread they hovered about him in menacing attitudes,
barring his way to the ladder leading to the roof from whence he had
descended; but the Englishman was not one to brook interference for
long. He attempted at first to push his way past them, and then when
one seized his arm and jerked him roughly back, Bradley swung upon the
creature and with a heavy blow to the jaw felled it.
Instantly pandemonium reigned. Loud wails arose, great wings opened
and closed with a loud, beating noise and many clawlike hands reached
forth to clutch him. Bradley struck to right and left. He dared not
use his pistol for fear that once they discovered its power he would be
overcome by weight of numbers and relieved of possession of what he
considered his trump card, to be reserved until the last moment that it
might be used to aid in his escape, for already the Englishman was
planning, though almost hopelessly, such an attempt.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account