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Spacehounds of IPC by E E. Doc Smith

the dark or not; and just between you and me, I’m not particularly keen on night travel in

these parts after what’s just happened. Are you?”

“Anything else but,” she assured him, fervently. I’d lots rather stay hungry until

tomorrow.”

“No need of that—I’ve brought along enough supper for both of us. I’m hungry as

a wolf, too, now that I have time to think of it. We’ll eat and den up somewhere—or

climb a tree. Those wampuses probably can’t climb trees!”

“There’s a nice little cave back there about a hundred meters. We’ll pretend it’s

the Ritz,” and they soon had a merry fire blazing in front of the retreat. There they ate of

the provisions Stevens had brought. Then, while the man rolled up boulders before the

narrow entrance of the cave, Nadia gathered leaves and made a soft bed upon its

warm, dry floor.

“Good night, lover,” and the girl, untroubled and secure now that Stevens was at

her side, was almost instantly asleep; but the man was not sleepy. He thought of the

power plant, even now sending its terrific stream of energy into his accumulators. He

thought of the ultra-radio—where could he get all the materials needed? He thought of

his friends, wondering whether or not they would receive his message. He thought of

Breckenridge and the other human beings who had been aboard the Arcturus,

wondering poignantly as to their fate. He thought of Newton and of his own people, who

had certainly given them up for dead long since.

But above all he thought of the beautiful, steel-true companion lying there asleep

at his mailed feet, and he gazed down at her, his heart in his eyes. The firelight shone

through the chinks Between the boulders, casting a flickering ruddy light throughout the

little cavern. Nadia lay there, her head pillowed upon one strong, brown little hand. Her

lips were red and sweetly curved, her cheek was smooth and firm as so much brown

velvet. She was literally aglow with sheer beauty and with perfect health; and the man

reflected, as he studied her hungrily, that this wild life certainly had agreed with

her—she was becoming more surpassingly beautiful with every passing day.

“You little trump—you wonderful, lovely, square little brick!” he breathed silently,

and bent over to touch her cheek lightly with his lips. Slight as the caress was, it

disturbed her, and even in her sleep her subconscious mind sent out an exploring hand,

to touch her Steve and thus be reassured. He pressed her hand and she settled back

comfortably, with a long, deep breath; and he stretched his ironclad length beside her

and closed his eyes, firmly resolved not to waste a minute of this wonderful night in

sleep.

When he opened them an instant later it was broad daylight, the boulders had

been rolled away, the fragrance of roasting meat permeated the atmosphere, and Nadia

was making a deafening clamor, beating his steel breastplate lustily with the flat of his

huge saber.

“Daylight in the swamp, you sleeper!” she exclaimed. “Roll out or roll up! Come

and get it, before I throw it away!”

“I must’ve been kind of tired,” he said sheepishly, when he saw that she had shot

a bird and had cooked breakfast for them both while he had been buried in oblivion.

“Peculiar, too, isn’t it?” Nadia asked, pointedly. “You only did about ten day’s

work yesterday in ten minutes, swinging this frightful snickersnee of yours. Why, you

played with it ~as though it were a knitting-needle, and when I wanted to wake you up

with it, I could hardly lift it.”

“Thought you didn’t want that subject ever mentioned?” he tried to steer the talk

away from his prowess with the broad-sword.

“That was yesterday,” airily. “Besides, I don’t mind talking about you—it’s thinking

about us being—you know

—that I can’t stand.”

“All x, ace. I get you—right. Let’s eat.”

Breakfast over, they started down the valley, Stevens carrying his helmet under

his arm. Hardly had they started, however, than Nadia’s keen eyes saw a movement

through the trees, and she stopped and pointed. Stevens looked once, then hand in

hand they dashed back to their cave.

“We’ll pile up some of the boulders and you lie low,” he instructed her as he

screwed on his helmet. She snapped open his face-plate.

“But what about you ? Aren’t you coming in, too ?” she demanded.

“Can’t—they’d surround us and starve us out. I’m safe in this armor—thank

Heaven we made it as solid as we did —and I’ll fight ’em in the open. I’ll show ’em what

the bear did to the buckwheat!”

“All x, I guess, but I wish I had my armor, too,” she mourned as he snapped shut

his plate and walled her into the cave with the same great rocks he had used the night

before. Then, Nadia safe from attack, he drew his quiver of war-arrows into position

over his shoulder, placed one at the ready in his bow, and turned to face the horde of

things rushing up the valley toward him. Wild animals he had supposed them, but as he

stood firm and raised his weapon shrill whistles sounded in the throng, and he gasped

as he realized that those frightful creatures must be intelligent beings, for not only did

they signal to each other, but he saw that they were armed with bows and arrows,

spears, and slings!

Six-limbed creatures they were, of a purplish-red color, with huge, tricornigerous

heads and with staring, green, phosphorescent eyes. Two of the six limbs were always

legs, two always arms; the intermediate two, due to a mid-section jointing of the six-foot-

long, almost cylindrical body, could be used at will as either legs or arms. Now, out of

range, as they supposed, they halted and gathered about one who was apparently their

leader; some standing erect and waving four hands while shaking their horns savagely

in Stevens’ direction, others trotting around on four legs, busily gathering stones of

suitable size for their vicious slings.

Too far away to use their own weapons and facing only one small four-limbed

creature, they considered their game already in the bag, but they had no

comprehension of Earthly muscles, nor any understanding of the power and range of a

hundred-pound bow driving a steel-headed war arrow. Thus, while they were arguing

Stevens took the offensive, and a cruelly barbed steel war-head tore completely through

the body of their leader and mortally wounded the creature next beyond him. Though

surprised, they were not to be frightened off, but with wild, shrill screams rushed to the

attack. Stevens had no ammunition to waste, and every, time that mighty bow twanged

a yard-long arrow transfixed at least one of the red horde—and a body through which

had torn one of those ghastly, hand-forged arrow-heads was of very little use thereafter.

Accurately-sped arrows splintered harmlessly against the re-enforced windows of his

helmet and against the steel guards protecting his hands. He was almost deafened by

the din as the stone missiles of the slingers rebounded from his reverberating shell of

steel, but he fired carefully, steadily, and powerfully until his last arrow had been loosed.

Then, the wicked dirk in his left hand and the long and heavy saber weaving a circular

path of brilliance in the sun, he stepped forward a couple of paces to meet the

attackers. For a few moments nothing could stand before that fiercely driven blade —

severed heads, limbs, and fragments of torsos literally filled the air, but sheer weight of

numbers bore him down. As he fell he saw the white shaft of one of Nadia’s hunting-

arrows flash past his helmet and bury itself to the nock in the body of one of the horde

above him. Nadia knew that her arrows could not harm her lover, and through a chink

between two boulders she was shooting into the thickest of the mob, speeding her light

arrows with the full power of her bow.

Though down, the savages soon discovered that Stevens was not out. In such

close quarters he could not use his sword, but the fourteen-inch blade of the dirk,

needle-pointed as it was and with two razor-sharp, serrated cutting edges, was itself no

mean weapon, and time after time he drove it deep, taking life at every thrust. Four

more red monsters threw themselves upon the prostrate man, but, not sufficiently

versed in armor to seek out its joints, their fierce short spear-thrusts did no damage.

Presently four more corpses lay still and Stevens, with his to them incredible Earthly

strength, was once more upon his feet in spite of their utmost efforts to pinion his mighty

limbs, and was again swinging his devastating weapon. Half their force lying upon the

field, wiped out by a small, but invincible and apparently invulnerable being, the

remainder broke and ran, pursued by Stevens to the point where the red monsters had

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Categories: E.E Doc Smith
curiosity: