Avon Fantasy Reader No. 13 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

“Man,” he said, “you—you—don’t know. I’ve seen discarnate spirits; I’ve seen— I— No matter. This is beyond everything one ever— Woop!” They were out of the pill-box, like rats breaking cover, and I| after them, going I didn’t know where. I had seen what they had—and even though I didn’t believe it, I ran. The big shadow had turned toward us, suddenly rearing itself up, up, until it stood a hundred feet high among the stars. It leaned a little forward, like something listening; it was semi-erect, and in its enormous forepaws it held a small dark thing that kicked and then was still. “I—I—” stuttered Rattray Smith as we ran. “Discarnate dinosaur—spirits if may get angry— Where’s the house?” “Wrong way,’ I panted, seizing his elbow. I had caught a pale gray glimmer in front of us, and realized we were heading for the sea. We stopped | and looked back. Something immense rocked heavily against the stars, com- ing up with appalling swiftness. I saw that it was between us and the bunga- low. Not that that mattered; by its size, it could have cracked the bungalow like a nut—and that it meant, for sport or for spite, to drive us over the cliff. 1 knew—I don’t. know how—that it was powerless to treat us as it had treated the little black ghost of prehistoric man, in that strange reproduc- tion of an age-old drama, but that it was an evil thing, and would harm us all it could. And I knew too, in the same swift enlightening moment, why one man of the two who died had fallen over the cliff, and why another had slain himself. The last had not been able to endure this terrible rending of the veil. “Smith,” a panted, “stand your ground; youll break your neck. It can’t harm us. It’s only the fear.” “Discarnate spirts—” he babbled. I did not heed him. I was busy doing what the soldier did for Joan of Arc, in her evil moment—making a Cross of two sticks, with a stem of grass twisted round them. I held it in ay hand, and T said—no matter what. Those who know will know. By ever so little, the giant shadow missed us, lurched forward and with one toppling leap, went down the cliff. “Come on,” I shouted to Smith and France, though I could not see the latter. “I’ve got my torch and a plug of dynamite; welll sce the wile thing through.” “What are you going to do?’ : squeaked Rattray Smith. “Put out those eyes in the cave,” I shouted. I was exhilarated, above myself —as one used to be in the war. I scrambled down the cliff in the transparent dark, feeling my way; slightly surprised, but not much, to hear Smith coming after, | found the cave. We stood for a minute gaining breath, and looking about us. There was nothing to be seen anywhere; nothing to be heard but the steady slapping of waves on the beach. “Pm with you,” declared Beith eae S 768 palzentologist-—” “A which?” I said. “Don’t trip over those bones, and don’t stop to pick them up now!”—for he was stooping down and furnbling, I added, without quite knowing what I meant, “The dinosaur’s ghost didn’t have eyes.” But 23 a ; 5 comcaoooks =—tit, VV IIWI GW RBeEOUTITU! RAAFrRIN = wes ow ww gew | Ww ee ee ee hh a a) i a: a