Argosy, September 1955 — page 49: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a SUMMER IN SALANDAR 47 Manuel was washing the lunch things under water that broke from a small fissure in the perpendicular rock above the path. ** Manuel—how far is it to the top?” she said. ‘“‘ How long should it take us? ”’ ** You should give two hours, madame.”’ “There and back? or just there? ”’ **'There and back,” he said. * Oh, that’s nothing,’ Manson said. ‘“ That’s no time.” The sight of Manuel deferentially wiping a plate with a tea-cloth, in his shirt-sleeves, so like a waiter who had lost his way, made him feel suddenly superior again. ** You’re coming, Manuel, aren’t you? ”’ she said. “No, madame, I’m not coming. I shall wait here for you.” A moment of strained silence seemed to be pinned, suspended, ready to drop, in the immense space of hot noon sky. With irrita- tion Manson heard her break it by saying, ‘“‘ We’ve got all after- noon. Won’t you change your mind? ”’ ** No, thank you, madame.” “Oh, if the fellow doesn’t want to come, he doesn’t want to come. That’s that.” ** T was simply asking,” she said. A moment later, fired by something between annoyance and exhilaration, he was ready to start. ‘“* If you get tired of waiting,”’ he said to Manuel, “‘ you can go back. We know the way.” The path made a series of regular spiral ascents with growing sharpness, narrowing to a single-line track on which Manson and Miss Vane could well walk together. Disturbed by their feet, a rock fell, flattish, skimming like a slate from a house-roof, pitching down, crashing with gun-shot echoes into a cauldron of steamy, sunlit haze. “It’s hot, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘“‘ You don’t really want to go to the top, do you? ”’ *‘ Of course I do. That’s what we came for, didn’t we? ”’ She did not answer, and he said, ‘“‘ I don’t wonder the English perfected mountaineering. None of these other chaps seem to have the slightest guts for it.” The buzzard reappeared in the sky like a growing speck of dust on glass, but this time below and not above him. He stood for a moment in intent exhilaration, watching the descending bird that was really a hundred feet or so below him now. He was amused to think that he had climbed higher than a bird in the sky, higher than Manuel, higher perhaps than anything but a goat or a goat- herd had ever climbed on the island before. “You know what—? ”’ he began to say. Another rock fell noisily. Its skimming, sliding fall, in clean curvature into hazy space, had the breathless beauty of a ball well thrown. He heard its crash on other rocks below. He listened for some time to its long double-repeated echoes across the valley. Then he realized suddenly that to his half-finished remark there had been no answer. comicbhooks.com