Collected Tales (Jerry eBooks)

by Leslie F Stone

  He picked himself up, and they saw him racing across the clearing and into the jungle, all atitter to tell his friends what wonders he had seen.

  On the third day Wendell, Beale and Jimson sallied forth from the flyer. They wore the lead-mesh undersuits Wendell had insisted be brought along, shoes with thin lead soles, helmets of lead-mesh that had visors over the face that could be raised at will. Their gloves were heavy with lead. Lead alone would protect them from the radium emanations that had killed the men of the Corsair. Besides this they wore dark glasses to protect the eyes against the excessive sunlight of Vulcan. Only the small gravitation on Vulcan’s surface, but one-sixth that on earth, permitted the men of earth to burden themselves with hundreds of pounds of lead. The men knew, were they to obtain sufficient cosmicite, that a thin cover—and these ungainly space suits would no longer be necessary.

  Through the trees they could see fox-men scurrying away in sudden fright. Wendell led his party to the edge of the clearing, then deliberately stood there gesturing broadly to his companions as if explaining things to them. The natives did not run far, soon the three were aware of many eyes upon them. A half hour was wasted away as the Tellurians permitted the Vulcanites to grow accustomed to their strange appearance. Now Wendell drew forth his light service air-pressure gun and with a great show of pantomime pointed out to his companions a giant bird that hovered over the clearing. He aimed his gun. There was no explosion, but the bird fell almost at the men’s feet.

  It was Jimson’s cue. He acted as if Wendell’s feat were too simple for words, and pointing out a cluster of high-hanging fruit he drew his needle-beam pistol. Scathing fire leaped from the gun, played on the fruit and charred it so that it hung there a mass of cinders. Whereupon Beale with ‘wider gestures drew forth the more deadly weapon, the cathode atom-destroyer. A thousand feet away stood an unusually tall tree, rising almost two hundred feet into the air. Upon it Beale turned his ray. The white light was blinding and the tree was no more!

  Without a word the three turned and hurried back to the flyer. A great burst of sound rose from the jungle, the awed voices of the fox-men. Surely, come what may, they would carry in their hearts a deep reverence for the men of the Adventure.

  The following day the three again went into the clearing. The men crowded about every window port to watch their reception by the natives. They could see a number of the little fellows lurking among the trees. The appearance of the three in the open seemed to be a signal long awaited, the undergrowth was suddenly thick with the shiny-skinned men. There was some hesitation among these, but after a few minutes of this indecision the three realized they were merely awaiting the arrival of several personages who could be seen hurrying down the path that led from their village.

  These were seven creatures from whose path the others crowded away. They were taller than the average foxman, broader of shoulder, heavier of limb, with faces that were shrewd, intelligent. Like their fellows they were unclothed and they, too, were ornamented with bits of cosmicite—but their shields were larger and heavier.

  What made them stand out from the others was the color of their skin. It has been noted that the natural color of the Vulcanites was a brownish-grey, whereas in the case of the seven chiefs (for such they proved to be) no two were alike. The foremost was white, a pure virgin white made possible by some bleaching agent. The second was red, a bright naked red. He was followed by a third whose skin was green, a fourth blue, and so on through the colors of the spectrum, bright garish colors like those that filled the jungle.

  THE white-coated native was evidently the leader. He came striding forward filled with the importance of this occasion, cynosure of all eyes. As he drew near the Tellurians saw that in addition to his cosmicite trinkets he wore a head-dress of feathers that stuck up from his pate several feet, permanent fixtures glued tightly in place. Also he wore wristlets of the precious white metal besides his knee and elbow shields, and when he turned about they saw a long hairless tail of some animal securely fastened to his person.

  Later when the Tellurians learned enough of the rudimentary language of Vulcan, a common tongue used by all tribes, they discovered this imposing creature was Rafel, elected chieftain of his tribe that numbered no less than three thousand males. (Females and young were not counted in the census.) There were six hereditary chiefs (tuco[2]) who once every six years[3] were selected from among their families, one chosen to be their official representative. Once elected he could not be deposed during his reign, the very chiefs who put him at their head were as much his subjects as the lowliest muli.[4]

  His power was of life and death.

  Rafel not only directed the civil welfare of his people, but was also their spiritual leader. And since there were no less than a thousand gods and devils in their Pantheon, his job was not one to be sneered at. Yet, with it all, he turned out to be a kindly if not kingly fellow. His dignity sat not too heavily upon his shoulders and he proved open to reason. Like all savages he feared most to lose face, to be made a fool of! He believed without question that the Adventure had come from the sun. Had he not seen the “sky-boat” come out of the sun itself? He considered his tribe unduly honored by the visit.

  He came leading the procession of emblazoned tucos forward, halting at the edge of the clearing. Wendell, Beale and Jimson had taken but a half dozen steps from the airlock, permitting the first move to their “hosts.” And for all his apparent efficiency, Rafel was for the moment at a loss as to what he should do on this unprecedented occasion. A chieftain of three thousand adult males, however, must have recourse to doing the right thing at the right moment. After his single minute of indecision he was suddenly a typical “greeter.”

  Standing just within the clearing with the circlet of trees at his back, the chieftain threw wide his arms as if to embrace the universe, and began to recite what was undoubtedly a prepared welcome speech. It was long, twenty minutes of it. Jimson nudged his chief. “The chairman of the Rotary Club back home ought to be in on this. All that’s missing is the key to the city.”

  “Hush, I think it’s coming now,” whispered Beale.

  For Rafel had raised one arm high above his head in signal to those behind him. Now the six elaborately-colored tucos came forward bearing a burden between them. It lay suspended upon a square of woven grasses, a tiny statuette. No more than six inches tall it was of exceedingly crude workmanship, a figure of cosmicite. It took Beale and Jimson several moments to discover that it depicted a rather ugly little fox-man, shiny-skin, squatting on his heels and holding a round globe (also of cosmicite) between its knees which it contemplated.

  “It’s a god, possibly the god of the sun,” explained Wendell, who had seen a like figurine on his first landing upon Vulcan. They could see that the six carriers held the figure in deep veneration. They halted before Wendell, waiting for him to do something about it. Jimson nudged him. “Take it!”

  Wendell did not listen to him, but merely raised a hand as if in blessing, and by the expression on Rafel’s face they saw he had done the right thing. The seven were grinning broadly. Then, at Rafel’s signal, the six tucos retreated back into the trees carrying their god with them.

  “That’s one up for our side,” grinned Jimson.

  Rafel waited until his companions were out of sight, then gave a second signal to his people. This time it was not the gaily-colored chiefs who answered his summons, but a dozen slate-brown mulis, each carrying a grass-matting basket on his head. At Rafel’s signal they lowered them to the ground. They contained a variety of fruit, a sort of meal-cake, the raw flesh of strange animals, water and nuggets of cosmicite.

  WENDELL made no motion to accept the fruit, but he did stride over to the single basket of cosmicite and select from the top a single nugget. He motioned for the captain and Jimson to do likewise. When that was done he waved an arm over the baskets. But this time Rafel did not understand. A frown appeared between his beady eyes.

  In a rasping voice he calle
d out three words. There seemed to be some delay, but after five minutes or so a dozen more slaves came running forward with twelve more baskets on their heads. These contained the same variety of food, the twelfth, cosmicite. Rafel watched Wendell anxiously, but he only shook his head, and sought again to wave the baskets away. Again Rafel called out three words, and though the delay was longer than before, twelve more baskets appeared!

  Wendell realized if something was not done to halt the procession the Adventure would be surrounded by baskets. It took him ten full minutes to make Rafel understand that his men and he had no use for the food and water, but that the cosmicite was acceptable.

  The chieftain understood at last. He called a word to his bearers to carry off their burdens again, leaving the three baskets of metal. Jimson turned to the ship, motioned for men to come through the lock and carry away the baskets. Rafel waited quietly with arms crossed while this was done. With signs he made the men understand they were now to follow him.

  He led the way down a well-worn path through the trees. The natives stood back from the path watching them pass. They had glimpses of both women and children with dumb animal faces and round pot-bellied figures.

  A hundred yards from the clearing the village began, if such could be termed a village. There were no houses, just burrows in the ground entered by round holes covered by a trapdoor of matted grass, vines and jungle debris. When dropped in place no one could guess at the teeming life that dwelt below. The jungle life went on above ground undisturbed, food ready for the hand of man.

  After passing a dozen openings Rafel led his guests through a trap only more imposing than its fellows because of its larger size. There was a crude ladder of pegs set in the straight wall ten feet down. Down the ladder they found a large room roughly fifteen feet square. It was not dark, for the walls sparkled with bits of shining pebbles that gave off a dim eerie light; while in the center of the chamber was a large piece of jagged ore, the size of a man’s head, emitting light.

  Jimson pointed out that this light-bearing ore was one of the several radioactive salts. He had been to the radium mines of Luna and had seen like ores. With that inexhaustible supply of the precious element so close to home it would be centuries before men of Tellus would turn to Vulcan for their needs. Beale was glad they were wearing their leaden suits. No wonder Sellers and his crew had died so horribly. A few hours’ exposure to those rays and death was inevitable!

  Evidently the bombardment of the radioactive rays did not affect the fox-men. Instead, were they taken from their natural environment they would most likely perish for the lack of the emanations that were part of their beings. Poison to one, life to another! Possibly, too, the food of the Tellurians would be as poison to them as the fruits of Vulcan were to the Tellurians!

  Glancing about the room the three wondered about furniture, but for some mats of moss in one corner the chamber was quite bare. Rafel solved the problem by pointing to the floor. The six tucos who had followed them into the chamber squatted behind Rafel who took his place facing the white men. The chieftain made several queer cabalistic passes through the air and a number of women came down the passage with metal bowls of food which were placed before each man. There was some half-cooked meat, fruits and a thick gruel. Wendell motioned to show that neither he nor his companions would partake, but that did not deter Rafel and his fellows. They nodded their understanding and “fell to” noisily. For the next half hour the three had the pleasure of watching their hosts gorge themselves.

  After the first few minutes of watching the fox-men enjoy their fare, Beale decided it not amiss to discuss their situation. As the three talked Rafel eyed them covertly, but his glance was only friendly interest.

  Judging by the three half-filled baskets of cosmicite presented to them, Wendell conjectured that the metal was not too plentiful in the village. There was no sign of any in the room in which they sat, except upon the persons of the chiefs. Possibly the three baskets were all the superfluous metal in the village. By force of arms they might denude their hosts of what remained on their persons, but that was not what they wanted. They must know the source, the location of the mines themselves. There was but one way to find out. They must learn the language of the fox-men. Beale decided upon taking the easiest and quickest course.

  CHAPTER III

  The Gods Speak

  ATTRACTING Rafel’s attention, he pointed to himself and said “Beale.” After a moment’s hesitation Rafel pointed one thin finger at himself saying “Beel.” The captain shook his head, and it took him a number of minutes to make the chieftain grasp the fact there was only one Beale. After Rafel got that into his head it was easier, and with some coaching they learned his name. It was slow progress, but Rafel at last learned that Jimson was “Jimso” as he called him, and Wendelk was “Wemdal.” Then elaborately he named all his six fellows.

  With that lesson fairly well learned, Beale pointed to Wendell, Jimson and himself collectively, and again after a great deal of waving of arms and patience he learned that the fox-men were called “Tolis.”

  Henceforth it was simpler. Beale had but to point to an object to obtain its name. Jimson had found a pencil and pad and jotted down each new word with its equivalent much to the fox-men’s wonder. The room in which they sat was a “kel,” the floor, and this included the ground as well, was “get,” good “gimgim,” cosmicite, “dasie?” and so on.

  When his teachers began to yawn unselfconsciously, Beale realized how late it must be. Rafel appeared disappointed they would not stay the night. Wendell, Jimson and he were feeling their own hunger now and were anxious to get out of their heavy suits. Rafel ushered them forth into the growing dusk with great aplomb.

  Even before all the light of the sun was gone, the jungle was changing in aspect—the ground, the trees, the very fruit and even the bodies of the men of Vulcan were beginning to glow of their own light. It was as weirdly beautiful as it was strange. Beale and Jimson recalled they had seen the same thing on the night-side of the planet with their arrival. Wendell pointed out that everything here was luminous because of the high percentage of radium that was absorbed by every organic thing.

  By the time they reached the Adventure, the full wonder of the eerie night was upon them. Every tree trunk, every tendril of the vines, every separate spiney leaf, every berry was plainly outlined as though in silver. Night insects just beginning to stir, carried their own lanterns; the birds were streaks of brilliance against the black moonless sky. Altogether Vulcan was an unusual world.

  It was more than a week before their real mission could be spoken of to Rafel. During that time Wendell, Beale and Jimson spent most of their time in the company of the chieftain, learning his tongue and the customs of these savage little people. Twice Rafel had been taken into the Adventure. He seemed quite willing to devote all his time to the strangers; awed by their presence, he took childish delight in their company. He did not question. If they wished to enlighten him about themselves of their own will that was sufficient. The Adventure was something outside his realm, incogitable.

  The men of the crew were not so patient. They could see no good reason for this dalliance. They recommended stripping the natives of their ornaments and forcing them under pain of death to tell where more was to be had. They were free to wander about the “settlement” as they pleased, but in most cases one visit to the burrows of the Tolis was enough. Only a few of their number bothered to learn the tongue of the shiny fox-men. Then they had their first “accident.”

  It was nearing sunset of the short Vulcanite day, when Jimson standing at one of the ports saw Warren and Yarbow running through the trees as if in mortal terror of their lives. Wendell was at his side.

  “Good Lord!” cried Jimson at sight of the racing men.

  “Have they gone crazy?” His eyes went beyond the men, trying to discover if they were being chased by natives, but in the deceptive ghost light of the verdure it was difficult to see.

  “They run
from themselves . . .” said Wendell quietly. “Get them into the ship before any natives see them as they are . . .”

  “What do you mean? What has happened?”

  “Go, open the lock, I tell you!”

  Jimson cast one more look out the window. The men had reached the clearing, but Warren had stumbled over a vine and sprawled on the ground. Instead of picking himself up he was rolling about wildly, clutching at himself, trying to reach a dozen places at once, but Yarbow stumbled forward unaware of his companion’s antics, his face a horrible mask of twisted pain.

  Jimson needed no further urging to get down to the lock. He passed a man in a corridor and ordered him to follow. Yarbow fell through the doorway as it was pulled open from within, but Jimson did not pause; he ran out to where Warren still squirmed in the throes of some mysterious attack. The poor fellow was almost gone when he reached him; and Jimson had to carry him, a dead weight, into the ship.

  Beale had been summoned and was trying to ease Yarbow’s pain, but the pair were beyond help. They moaned and screamed alternately, seemed unable to breathe; their eyes grew glazed rapidly. In half an hour Yarbow was dead, Warren followed quickly.

  Wendell had a ready explanation. “Two days ago I saw them eat some fruit . . . I warned them, but they laughed at me. I’ve been watching them, but they must have slipped out this afternoon behind my back. Lucky they had sense to get back here without the natives seeing them die. You’ll have to bury them in the dark . . .” He turned and went away without another word.