Argosy: The Short Story Magazine — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

THE CHRYSALIDS is The best I could tell him was that we had calculated that we must be within a few miles of Wild Country now. “Then get moving,” he advised. ‘“‘ The longer you wait, the more time they have to get round and cut you off.”’ I woke Rosalind and explained. ‘Ten minutes later we were on our way again, with Petra still half asleep. Now that speed was more important than concealment, we kept to the first southward track we found, and urged the greathorses to a ponderous trot. A couple of miles on, the stretch of woods came to an abrupt end and we found ourselves facing another shallow, cultivated valley, about a mile and a half across to where the trees began again on the farther side. Most of the land was grazing, with a few sheep and cattle scattered about behind rail and post fences. One of the ‘few arable fields lay to our immediate left. The young crop in it looked as if it might be meant for oats, but it deviated to an extent that would have caused it to be burnt long ago at home. We found it an encouraging sight; it could only mean that we had reached a region where the stock could not be kept pure. We passed a farm that was little better than a cluster of sheds, where four or five men and a couple of women were gathered. One glanced our way, and the rest turned to stare. I don’t think they can ever have seen a greathorse before; the sight of two cantering towards them with a thunderous rumble of hoofbeats struck them rigid with amazement. ‘There was no need for us to shoot. The whole group ran for shelter, and we pounded by, unmolested. At the edge of the forest I looked back. The people had emerged from their shelter and were standing in a little group, staring after us. After two or three miles we left the trees again and came out into more open country, dotted not only with bushes, but with grass thickets. Nearly all the grass was very coarse and large- leafed, but in some places it grew in enormous tufts with the sharp blades standing eight or ten feet high. Among them we wound our way for an hour or more until we came to a copse of queer, but fair-sized trees. It offered shelter and hiding, and inside it we found a glade with a more ordinary kind of grass that the great- horses could eat, so we decided to halt there and: sleep. I hobbled the horses while Rosalind unrolled the blankets, and presently we were all hungrily eating our bread and cheese. It was pleasantly peaceful until Petra put out one of her blinding communications, so suddenly that I bit my tongue. ‘“ For heaven’s sake, child!’ protested Rosalind, putting her hand to her head. “Sorry. I forgot,’ said Petra perfunctorily. Then she told ‘She wants to talk to one of you. She Says, will you all try es ‘hear her while she thinks her loudest.” ‘** All right,” we agreed, “‘ but you keep quiet, or you’ll blind us.” I, certainly, tried very hard, but there was nothing—or as near nothing as the shimmer of a heat-haze. comiclooks.comn