Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION quarter of a mile, the very minimum margin of safety. The ground seemed to be darkening beneath his feet. The darkness rose like a sudden tide, and engulfed him as he fell into it. He couldn’t have been un- conscious from oxygen starva- tion for many minutes, but when he opened his eyes all was quiet. It was as though he were awakening from a long sleep. He felt weak and tired, and blinked stupidly at the grey sky—he was lying on his back in a hollow. He was afraid to rise. If he lay still, he couldn’t be seen from the river. Perhaps they’d all gone now—but he’d rest a while before checking on that. So he continued to lie there. Thoughts began to move in his mind. At last he had a chance to deliberate. The leaping of the fish had struck a memory chord— salmon. Salmon climbed and leaped their way up rivers to 86 spawn in the upper reaches, and then return to the sea. Most probably the smaller creatures were the leviathan’s spawn, now partially grown, beginning to make their way down to the open sea. Perhaps, telepathically, the leviathan had learned of the death of one or more of his offspring by the activities of these queer bipeds. It had rushed to the rescue. But its offspring had been doing all right without its aid. They had finished Raikes. And the leviathan had finished Hacking. There was a similarity be- tween both men’s deaths. They'd both been drawn into the river. Come to think of it, it looked as though the bank had been drawn into the river also—piecemeal. The smaller titans had all been concentrating upon that por- tion of the bank. When they fled, leaving one of their number dead, the bank had ceased to fall apart. When comiclooks.cormn