Astounding British Edition, Vol. 6, No. 8 — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

An’ the ole stag ... well, ’e got burned u a Pardi interrupted. He was standing beside the chief. At the sound of the high-pitched, womanish voice Enery looked at the warden with disfavor. “Thus it is,” cried Pardi, “wiv those ’oo don’t show ARP ’is proper respects. ’E don’t guide their arrers, "E don’t. "E don’t put out the fire for “em—not ’im! Not even when the fire is a-burning up food for the chief’s own table. "E don’t never forget the un- believers. "E lets "em come ‘ome empty- "anded—an’ larfs.” “Empty-’anded, is it, yer little, sawed-off runt?” demanded the hunter. ““Empty-’anded my left foot! Look, guv’ner! I found this for yer! I brought it back for yer!” He fumbled in his pouch, fetched out the little box. Curious, Bart took it, and his big, clumsy seeming hands handled it with reverent care. “A book,” he said. “One o’ them books wot the Old "Uns made.” He opened it, leafed through it. “An’ picshers!” he cried. “Reel picshers! I must show young William this. °E carn’t do nuffin like it!” The deep- set eyes behind the gray, matted hair gleamed lecherously. “Lemme see! Lemme _ see!” clamored Pardi, standing on tiptoe to peer over the chief’s shoulder. “Garn! Yer dirty old man!” growled Bart. “This ain’t for the likes o’ you. Yer knows as ’ow the wardens ’as got ter be pure in mind an’ body!” “That ain’t nuffin ter do wiv it! This book should be put among the uvver treasures of ARP, for "Is safe keeping.” “So the warden of ARP can feast ’is dirty old eyes on it yer mean. No, Pardi, you ain’t gettin’ it. * I ain’t keepin’ it—more’s the pity. This ‘ere book is goin’ on a long trip termorrer—it’s ‘igh time I called on them two Mack brothers. They’re fair batty over things like this, the pair of ’em. An’ since my own smith can’t turn out a decent pot or kettle to save ‘is life—then your pore old chief ’as ter go out of *is own country to barter for ’em.” “You can go,” he concluded. “No, not you, Enery. You stays ’ere an’ ’as a sup 0’ ‘beer along o’ me. * we'll look at these ."ere picshers while we ’as the chance.” Two days’ riding it was to the Village of Mack. Two days, that is, provided that all went well. But the rarely used road was in a shock- ing condition, and all its inequalities had been baked hard by the late summer sun. — This did not delay the dozen young men— led by Enery—of Bart’s mounted bodyguard. They could have made the journey in half the time, but the speed of the party was, of necessity, slowed to the pace of the chief’s gaudily painted caravan. He was an old man, = - fr _ Sa = ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION he was fond of saying, and liked taking his comforts with him. it would have been better if his blacksmith, and not his youngest wife, had been on the list of comforts. For the | rear axle of the cumbersome vehicle broke, and it took Enery and his companions all of six sweating hours to effect crude and tem- porary repairs. 7 The first night they camped by the road- side, several miles short of the Village of Les, in which settlement they should have spent the night. And nobody got much sleep. One of the rare nocturnal packs of hunting dogs was on the prowl and laid siege to the encampment. With a fire, and with twelve armed men, there was little danger. But there was no rest. At the Village of Les there was a brief: halt for “gossip and refreshment, for the proper repair of the broken axle by Les’ smith. And Les and Bart had to waste an hour or so in gloating over the pictures in the book. Perhaps Bart would have stayed there the night, but the other chief-obviously desired the trophy that Enery had brought back from the cavern of the Ancients. He was offering quite fantastically high prices in fowls and eggs—both of which commodities Bart had in abundance in his own country. And the name of Les and his people was a byword for thievery and all kinds of dis- honesty. So Bart, at last, gave the order to push on. Again they would have camped by the road. But the Romans were out—a war party of at least twenty bucks. Enery saw the dust raised by their ponies’ hoofs whilst they were still miles distant. And when they came sweeping across the undulating plain, at right angles to the road, the hunter and his men were ready for them. Some—together with Bart and his wife—had taken cover in a clump of trees. Others were hiding behind the caravan. As soon as the raiders came within range they were greeted with a shower of arrows. A lucky shot—an’ I didn’t pray to Mr. Bleedin’ ARP neither, thought Enery—took their leader in the throat. He fell from his pony, and the animal came to an abrupt standstill, stood nuzzling the body of its late master. “Old yer fire!” shouted Bart to his men. _ “Don’t rile them baskets any more. Let ’em take their chief away an’ they won't be back till they’ve picked a new ’un!” And it was so. And Bart decided, wisely, to keep moving, as fast as possible. To arrive at the Village of the Mack Brothers in the early hours of ee: morning was better than not to arrive at aul. ,. The village, save for the watch, seemed to be sleeping when the little procession creaked and plodded up the one narrow street. The thatched roofs on either side were humped dark and ominous against the stars. EComichoo Sa(GO) LAA)