Argosy: The Short Story Magazine — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

oaeone 5 ‘$2 oil ets i R. ’ * se" ee” ua bis a ‘ath > a a SPP sete OF eae Pe Tt ..¥ : 7 * - THE CHRYSALIDS 135 the country was too open now. I went over the route in my mind. Since the ambush had been left so long, there was obviously one place for it. ‘“‘ Don’t cross the river,” I told him. ‘“ Fall off, and get carried away downstream.” All was quiet for nearly half an hour. Then the Zealand woman came in again, ‘‘ Where are you? We want your direction.” Petra responded energetically. "Twenty minutes or so after that, Michael reported, ‘‘ The Fringes people have muffed it. We've spotted one of them moving on the top of the cliffs—and that cleft was too obviously a trap, anyway. We’re splitting into two cross- ings, upstream and downstream, and we’re going to pincer in on the far bank, beyond the defile.”’ The camp was no great distance behind the cliffs. It looked as if we should be caught within the pincers. I told the man who had been left to guard us, “‘ Fetch the tall man quickly. It’s important.” He gave a grin, full of oafish cunning, and shook his head. He was not going to be caught that way. I tried to persuade him to take us to the man, but he was just as sure that he knew che catch there too. When I went closer to the tent entrance to argue with him, he swung a knobbed stick expertly within:an inch of my head, driving me back. I retreated, and for some minutes we all sat and fretted while the man grinned at us, pleased with himself. After a while Rosalind came through. “ Try to draw him down to the left side of the entrance, David. Be ready to jump in when I distract him.” I stepped forward, trying again to persuade him. He kept on grinning, and swinging his stick to hold me at a distance. Rosalind made her “‘ distraction.”” A stool flew past me and clipped him on the side of the head. My jump was superfluous. I simply went down on top of him as he folded up, but I acquired a useful knobbed stick. “"What’s going on? ”’ inquired Michael, anxiously. ‘“* We’re going to try to get out before your pincers close. We'll make due west, away from the cliffs,” I told him. ‘‘ Better hurry,” he advised. ‘“‘ We’re over the river down- stream from you.”’ . , We made off through the litter of tents and hovels, towards the trees. We had covered about two-thirds of the distance when there was a shout behind us. We speeded up, but a moment later an arrow struck the ground just in front of our feet. We stopped. At the edge of the trees we saw a man whose big body was sup- ported on short bow-legs. He already had a fresh arrow on the string. ‘“‘ Get back! ” he ordered, with a jerk of his head. There was nothing else to be done. We turned round and faced two men who had come running after us. I dropped my stick pacifically and tried again to explain about the impending attack. "The men were interested only in hustling us back to the tent we had left. We had barely reached it when a gun went off among the trees, somewhere on the left. There were three or four more shots, then silence, then another two shots. comiclooks.comnn