As Alt went past me, I saw his fear-stricken face. The giant--three or
four times my own height--was climbing to his feet. Alt was heading for
the broken cliff wall. I ran after him.
Behind us the giant came with a bound. The cliff was fifty feet
away. Alt shouted back a warning--something about hiding in a small
cave-mouth. There were many small openings; we must get into one too
small for the giant to follow.
There was no time for us to take the drug. No time to do anything but
run. But in a moment I knew we could never make it. I could hear the
thud of the giant's running footsteps, rattling the loose rocks. In a
moment more he would have us.
I shouted: "I can't get there, Alt!"
Alt stopped abruptly. He bent and seized a chunk of rock. Futile stand!
A hundred feet away the giant came leaping. He was larger now.
Then I thought of my automatics. In the shock of this sudden encounter
I had completely forgotten I was armed. I whipped one out, and stood
like a hunter facing a charging elephant. But mine was the trembling
courage of desperation.
The fast-growing giant was forty or fifty feet tall now. My automatic
felt like a toy as I leveled it. I fired; blindly perhaps at the last.
The giant let out a bellow of rage and pain--and astonishment. He
leaped sidewise; he stood fumbling, clutching at his shoulder where my
little bullet had stung him.
Alt shoved me. "This way--run!"
We reached the cliff bottom and found a narrow cleft running back in
the rock wall. It was only a few feet wide, but we wedged into it and
forced our way back a yard or two.
The giant was silent now. In a moment he was outside the crevice, but
he was far too large to get in. We heard him poking about; mumbling to
himself. Then he seemed to be digging, rattling the rocks. His hand and
arm came into the passage probing for us, and I fired again. The report
was deafening in this confined space. Powder fumes choked us.
The giant let out another roar, and his arm, wounded no doubt, was
withdrawn. He vanished. In the silence, we heard the scuffle of his
heavy, retreating footsteps.
We were all but choked; yet we did not dare go out. We crouched,
gasping, and presently the air cleared. There was silence. "Shall we
chance it, Alt? Or get smaller in here?"
"Try outside," he whispered. "I think he is gone--getting large, on his
way up."
We crept from the rift. The valley outside seemed empty. The giant had
vanished. Or was he around here somewhere?
I whispered: "We'd better not move--it might attract his attention."
"No. Wait for a time."
We crouched in the deep shadow of a bowlder. No question of Alt's
loyalty now, and my instinctive liking for him sprang anew.
"That was a close call, Alt."
"Yes."
I added, "You want one of these guns?"
In the gloom I could see his pleased expression. I showed him how to
aim and fire the automatic. He wore a belt to which was strapped a
package of sandwiches and a vacuum of water; I threaded the holster on
it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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