Argosy: The Short Story Magazine — page 140: what you’re looking at

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

a SY ee Yr * * Ae - eer: ® eS) beg. So LB 4 ~ ; - ’ ie oe hw atm ee ee | i a ae pie . * ® “" ' ete Ae , = 2 140 JOHN WYNDHAM ** Don’t move until it has dried. You others,’ she went on to the rest of us, “‘ start counting slowly so that I can locate you.” I had scarcely got to picturing double figures before I heard steps close beside me. ‘Then there was a hissing sound. Damp- ness fell on my face and hands, and my skin began to lose the puckered feeling. Something wiped across my eyelids, and I was able to raise them, stickily. A figure, completely hidden in a shiny white suit, was bending over me. In one gloved hand it held a swab of cloth, in the other, a metal bottle that was emitting a fine spray. The woman played the spray up and down me once more, and then turned her attention to Rosalind and Petra. I sat up. There were still a few filaments adrift, but when they settled where the spray had fallen, they glistened for a moment and then began to dissolve. ‘The clearing looked as if a fantastic number of spiders had spun there with all their might. The whole place, and the trees about it were cocooned in threads which had turned more white than glossy now. . The silence was broken by a sharp cracking on the right. I looked quickly, in time to see a young tree break off a foot from the ground, and fall. Near it, a bush leaned over and pulled free of the ground. One of the shacks crumpled in on itself, and collapsed; a tent suddenly went flat; another shack crackled and gave way. It was uncanny and alarming. Behind me I heard a sigh of relief from Rosalind. . Presently Petra remarked, with a subdued, somewhat reproving air, ‘‘ That was very horrid.” I went over and helped them up. The woman waited a moment, then she told us, “‘ Follow me! ” “But there’s still Michael! Michael, are you all right? ” “Yes,” he came back. ‘“ Still under the trees.” “Don’t move yet,” the Zealand woman told him. ‘“‘ It will be quite harmless in half an hour.” ‘“'What’s happened to the rest? They look—they—they’re not all dead, are they? ”’ he asked. “Yes,” she replied. Then, catching his feeling of shock, she added, ‘“‘ The threads contract as they dry. It is more merciful than your arrows and spears and clubs.”’ She turned again towards the machine, and started to spray ahead of her. * But Michael—”’ I protested, once more. She understood. She broke it to me sympathetically, but the answer was decisive. “There is a very long way to go. We could not carry four of you all that distance. Michael is the one who is still safe here. He has not been discovered. You could not go back to your homes, but he can. Perhaps, one day, we shall be able to come again.” It is bare in words, but it was comprehensive in thought. She displayed the whole situation swiftly, and where words might have left chinks for protests, she left none. All of us understood the position, and that there was nothing to do but accept it. ** Michael—”’ I began again. He cut me short. ‘‘ You heard her. There’s nothing else for it, David. VII—I’ll be all right...” COMIC OOkKSaCOmnn)