The Collected Stories

by Earl

  Jondra had shuddered at sight of the grenades She clutched her father’s arm.

  “WHY did you have me bring them? You must tell me!”

  A swift, disturbed look came over the scientist’s face. Then he drew a smile over his features.

  “You’re both being foolish,” he laughed. “The grenades are handy for any number of things, like blasting down trees.”

  He turned away, in dismissal of the subject.

  “All right,” Crane said calmly. “I’m going to repair the radio if I can. Then I’m going to signal the authorities and ask for an investigation. Something isn’t right here!”

  He stamped back to the ship. In the cabin he sat down and waited, without touching the radio. The set was beyond repair. He knew that from the start. His threat, he hoped, would smoke out something. Far worse than groping through an invisible forest was this groping through undefined human purposes.

  Who would come sneaking around now, to see if he was repairing the radio? Who was it that wished them isolated from the outside world—and why?

  He tensed at a sound—the soft pad of feet under the wing outside. He slowly inched up till his eyes peered over the windshield ledge. Not a soul was there! Puzzled, Crane sank back.

  The sound repeated itself a while later, just outside the cabin door. Crane crouched, waiting. When the sound was near, he rushed out, arms extended, ready to knock away a gun if the intruder carried that.

  He gasped in chorus with a startled shriek. Jondra Damon was tight in his closing arms. Releasing her, he stepped back.

  “You, Miss Damon? But—” Crane was more confused than at any time before.

  Color flushed into the girl’s paled cheeks. And then suspicion leaped into her eyes. Crane was almost grimly amused. He realized his actions must be as queer in her eyes, as hers in his.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “Let’s call it quits between us. Frankly, I thought the one who had smashed the radio would show up, not you.”

  “Thanks for the implication.” She answered his grin with a smile. “I came to ask you something—”

  “Yes?”

  Her hand touched his arm, before she went on.

  “I trust you, somehow. I want you to guard my father, every minute of the day!” The words came in a rush now. “I feel his life is in danger. I feel there’s something in this valley—something horrible—that threatens him. Maybe all of us! Will you guard him for me, Mr. Crane?”

  Suddenly she was in his arms again, but not by accident. He crushed her to him.

  “Yes,” he whispered fiercely. “And I’ll guard you too—Jondra!”

  She struggled free, her eyes wide, startled. She turned.

  “Let’s go back to camp,” she said quietly.

  CHAPTER IV

  Ally Unseen

  JONDRA DAMON hurried down the trail, Crane following. The redolence of pine forest was around them, and the rustle of branches in the wind. Almost, Crane could vision the trees themselves, and the girl tripping lithely through them. She glanced around once or twice, her hazel eyes glad to have him as an avowed friend in this queer adventure.

  A hundred yards from the plane he caught her hand, striding beside her despite the danger of colliding with a lurking shadow-tree. He wanted to say something.

  “Jondra—”

  Crane was interrupted by an ear-splitting roar. They froze in their tracks. Then there sounded the crackling of undergrowth, and the lumbering of some form through the forest toward them!

  Jondra cowered in his arms.

  “Something’s coming at us!” she cried. “Something big—and invisible!”

  Crane had already come to that conclusion. He shoved the girl ahead of him, back toward the plane. It was nearer than the camp. They sped as fast as they dared down the marked trail. Invisible bushes dragged at their ankles. Behind them sounded the heavy tread of some nameless beast, snorting and growling ferociously.

  “If we could only see it!” Crane groaned.

  But on second thought, perhaps it was better not to. No bear or tiger, or any creature Crane could think of had made the noises they heard. Its roar had come from a huge, rumbly chest. Its ponderous feet thumped against the ground with more than elephantine force.

  In the name of the universe, what frightful monster was pursuing them, uncatalogued in any zoo or book on Earth?

  Crane prodded the girl ahead faster, feeling blind and helpless. What chance to escape the invisible horror? Its growlings drew nearer, and imagination or not, Crane felt a hot fetid breath on his neck. Once it seemed to squeeze between two close-set trees. There was a crack, as one tree gave way.

  Just as they reached the wing-edge of the plane, Jondra stopped short with a shrill scream. Crane saw it at the same moment—the ghostly shadow of the creature, cast ahead of them against the nearest cliff-wall.

  Crane’s own mind and muscles turned numb. A mighty body reared in silhouette, at least twenty feet high.

  Great triangular spines ran the length of it. Two thick legs pumped thunderously, upholding the body like a kangaroo. The short forelegs displayed claws that could rend apart an elephant at one stroke. At the end of a serpentine neck slavered huge ridged jaws of more than crocodile magnitude.

  Unwisely, Crane shouted the one word to describe it.

  “It’s a dragon!”

  Jondra went limp with a little moan of utter terror, slumping against the wing-edge. Crane half swept her in his arms for a desperate run to the cabin, but released her. There wasn’t time. By the size of the shadow ahead, the behemoth behind must be within striking distance.

  Sobbing in haste, Crane ripped open his jacket and drew out the masher-grenade he carried. He thanked his stars for suspecting he might need it, after discovering he’d brought them here. He gripped its handle, facing the oncoming beast.

  IF he could only see to throw!

  Pulling the pin, he flung it blindly, judging as best he could by sound and instinct where the creature was.

  There was a dull roar as Crane flung himself over the girl’s form, head down. A second later he heard the majestic crackling of a shattered tree, toppling and crashing its length through the other pines. Branches whipped across his pilot’s uniform, bruising him through the fabric. The tree had very nearly smashed down on them.

  The grenade had done that—blown down a tree. But had it stopped the beast? The monster’s roar had echoed the explosion.

  And now the beast’s bellow sounded again—nearer and utterly enraged. Crane had missed! In another second ferocious jaws would crunch through him and Jondra, snuffing out their lives. Crane winced, waiting for the death stroke.

  He wasn’t sure what happened then. The whole sequence was a blur of sound. He seemed to hear a second grenade explosion, just after his own, clipping off the beast’s angry roar. And then from its throat issued a scream so piercing that Crane quivered as if stabbed.

  Head ringing, he could hear little more. He sensed that the beast had gone. Picking himself up dazedly, he looked around. But he could see nothing!

  That was the ghastly part of it. He couldn’t see the fallen tree, or the retreating monster, or any sign of the explosion save a swirl of settling dust. It was like a nightmare. Figures suddenly catapulted through the dust clouds, shouting. Dr. Damon was in the lead, with a grenade, Harlan and Pierre behind with rifles. Pierre shaded his eyes and stared down the valley, evidently at the fleeing beast.

  Dr. Damon picked up his daughter, rubbing his cheek against hers, muttering.

  “So, that’s what the grenades were for!” Crane hissed. “Why didn’t you warn us that dragons run around loose here? You pretty nearly fed Jondra to them, you old fool!”

  “Let me explain,” Dr. Damon said tiredly. He eased the girl back, and continued.

  “Six months ago I trekked with Pierre past Great Bear Lake, for firsthand glimpses of Arctic life-forms. I’m a government biologist, retired. We stumbled into this valley. It’s almost undetectable from groun
d level. I doubt if any white man has ever been here before. We almost fell into it before we knew it was here.”

  He went on, as though finally aware he must tell the whole story.

  “We circled the cliffs and found one spot where you could climb down, at some risk. Finding the astounding phenomenon of invisible life-forms here, I decided to stay for a study, sending Pierre back now and then for pack supplies. Finally I sent the message to Jondra, for more material, in order to make a more permanent stay.

  “My idea was simply to have the supplies delivered, and then Jondra would return with you. I didn’t want to tell of the dragons, for then she would either insist on staying with me, or worry herself to death back home.

  “I still hoped, after the bad landing, that that you would repair the ship and leave with her before the dragons became evident. I was only trying to keep it all from Jondra, for her own peace of mind.

  “Not knowing you, Crane, I couldn’t tell you either and be certain you wouldn’t tell her.”

  HE gulped for breath and went on.

  “So now you know the final secret of this valley. If there’s been any mystery about all this, it’s cleared up now.”

  “Is it?” challenged Crane. “I’m not so sure.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I begin to understand a few things. Thanks, Dr. Damon, for tossing your grenade in time.”

  The scientist stared. “I didn’t throw one. I wasn’t near enough to, before it was over.”

  “Then who did?” Crane asked slowly. “I could swear my grenade missed the beast. A second one went off immediately after, chasing the beast away. Didn’t you hear two explosions?”

  Dr. Damon shook his head, Harlan and Pierre following suit.

  “We heard one explosion, then a tree trashing and the beast screaming.

  There was so much confusion of noise that you merely imagined you heard another grenade.”

  “Take the credit due you,” Harlan said dryly. “Your grenade did the trick. You’re a hero.”

  Crane ignored the sarcasm, but started a little, meeting Jondra’s eyes. She had come to quietly. There was no sarcasm in her eyes, only a deep silent thanks that made him turn away, flushing.

  The girl sat up. “I heard every word you said, dad,” she stated, “about the dragons. If you’re staying, so am I.”

  Dr. Damon looked at Crane helplessly. That was that!

  BACK AT camp, the excitement over, Crane addressed the scientist while they ate their evening meal.

  “Why not explain the rest, Dr. Damon?” he suggested. “What experimentation are you carrying on? And why have you wanted the valley’s location kept secret from public channels? I think Harlan and I are entitled to know.”

  The scientist stiffened, as though to refuse. But when Jondra touched his arm, he relaxed. He smiled self-consciously.

  “I suppose I have the foibles of any scientist who has stumbled on a great thing. This is one of those phenomena that crop up only once a century. If the world heard about it, a hundred biologists would be swarming up here overnight.

  “Can you blame me for wanting to keep it to myself—for a short while anyway? Studying it, recording data, and then announcing it in one grand moment?”

  Crane smiled. All his suspicions of Dr. Damon’s motives vanished in a flash. He was simply a scientist-miser with a bag of gold, figuratively. He had heard before that, contrary to general belief, scientists were often childishly jealous of their individual discoveries, and loved the limelight as well as any other human soul.

  That took care of the scientist. But what of Harlan? And Pierre? Why had they acted strangely at times?

  Crane temporarily shelved the matter.

  “What accounts for the invisibility?” he queried.

  The bustle of arriving and unpacking, and the battle with the shadow-dragon, had kept them busy. But now the thought loomed—why should this isolated valley bear only invisible life-forms? It was unheard of in the annals of science.

  DR. DAMON’S tone became academic.

  “I’ve learned a little, and surmised a lot, in the six months I’ve been here. It traces down to a certain type of grass, which has the property of invisibility. The herbivorous creatures eat the grass—rabbits, deer, etc. The carnivores—bear, fox, weasel, lynx—eat them. Excrement and decaying bodies go back to the soil—and back to the vegetation, including trees, bushes, moss. It’s a closed cycle, mutually kept up, as it would be in any isolated valley.”

  “But what causes the invisibility itself?” It was Harlan who asked, leaning forward.

  Dr. Damon’s tone became vague, dreamy.

  “Perhaps it goes back a long way, in evolution. Evolution tries anything and everything. What does vegetation—to personify it—fear most? Being eaten. And being seen! If it were invisible, it might escape the crunching jaws of planteaters.

  “Thus ages ago evolution may have tried this offshoot species, protected by invisibility. It failed, because of the animal sense of smell. It vanished in evolution, as so many abortive life-forms have. Only here in this valley it survived, and stayed to the present day.”

  He waved a hand. “Sheer speculation, I admit. But however it happened, the invisible vegetation is here, and the resulting invisible animal life.”

  “But what is the exact agent of invisibility?” Harlan insisted.

  Crane didn’t like the tenseness in the chemist’s voice, nor the eager way he waited for an answer.

  “That’s what I want to find out,” Dr. Damon returned. “And where you come in. Between us, we may be able to find out. I suspect it’s a hormone, a gland-product. Transparent life-forms are not unknown, of course—jellyfish, many worms, tropical fish, etc.

  “A jellyfish is practically invisible in water. Thus it is hidden from its enemies. Its protoplasm is no different from ours, but contains gland-products that render it highly transparent.

  “The same thing, to a much more marvelous degree, has occurred with this valley’s life-forms. Their protoplasm is just as material as ours, but almost completely transparent to light.” Crane nodded. “Clear enough,” he punned.

  “But the dragons!” he asked in the next breath. “Why should there be invisible beasts never heard of before?”

  “Not dragons—dinosaurs,” smiled the biologist. “A species of them closely related to the extinct Tyrannosaurus rex fiercest of them all. The dinosaurs died out, millions of years ago, in competition with rising mammalian life. But this invisible species had just enough edge to survive, though it has narrowed down to this lone valley.”

  Dr. Damon’s voice lowered almost in awe.

  “What we’ve stumbled on, in this protected valley, is the last vestige of one of nature’s great experiments—invisibility.[1] It’s like finding live saber-toothed tigers, or mastodons, or submen.”

  THEY all felt it—an air of having been projected into a strange and ancient vault of Earth’s long past. Empires of life had risen and fallen, like empires of man. Perhaps the Unseen Life had once lorded it over Earth, only to give way before keener-nosed, sharper-eyed species.

  It was a chapter of evolution that had been totally unsuspected. The dead forms of the Unseen had all fossilized into opaque stone, leaving no slightest clue to their one-time invisibility in life.

  Harlan broke the silence.

  “You think, then, that you and I may be able to isolate this invisibility hormone?”

  “Not here,” Dr. Damon demurred. “It would take years of work, in a well-equipped laboratory. The best we can do is collect samples of blood from these creatures and bring them back to civilization for that laborious research. The blood will contain the hormone. That’s our job, Harlan.”

  The scientist rose. “Let’s get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’re going out hunting—for invisible game!”

  “You kill?”

  Crane started. It was a surprise to hear the taciturn Pierre speak up of his own volition. The French-Canadian’s expression was again strange—almost protest
ing.

  “Yes, why not, Pierre?” Dr. Damon said, surprised.

  “Hard job,” Pierre grunted, turning away.

  But Crane felt he hadn’t said what he meant. What went on in the guide’s secretive mind? And secondly, why was Harlan so keen on the invisibility angle itself?

  When he went to bed, Crane asked himself another startling question. He had counted the grenades. There were four cases, containing six each, according to the bill of lading.

  Two were missing!

  Who had flung the second grenade?

  CHAPTER V

  The Man in the Mists

  THE hunt the next day proved a strange one.

  “I know something of the layout,” Dr. Damon asserted. “Pierre and I explored the valley quite a bit. I even made a map.”

  He displayed it before they started. The valley was roughly five miles long and a mile wide. It was densely wooded in the center, but more thinly at the ends where sunlight was often excluded. The invisible vegetation needed life-giving rays the same as any normal growths, absorbing nourishment through a colorless form of chlorophyll in their transparent leaves.

  “Deer browse and sleep in the central section,” the biologist resumed. “We’re after them.”

  “Where do the dragons hang out?” Crane wanted to know more practically.

  “Anywhere,” Dr. Damon said briefly.

  “I’m going along,” Jondra declared firmly. “I won’t stay at camp and bite my nails.”

  The scientist shrugged, without an argument.

  “Well, we have the grenades,” he said.

  “I’m going along too,” Crane stated.

  “But the plane—”

  “Will keep,” Crane finished shortly. “Besides, I’m a good shot.”

  The scientist seemed pleased. “We can use another man with a rifle. Let’s go.”

  Pierre leading, they trekked single file toward the center of the valley, brushing past unseen vegetation.

  Crane looked around. Sheer, steep cliffs on all sides. They had kept the outside world out, and the things within from escaping. But the average temperature, it occurred to Crane suddenly, was hardly Arctic. In two days, none of them had been forced to wear more than mackinaw jackets.