Worlds of IF (July 1968) (Modified) by Galaxy Publishing Corporation

Author:Galaxy Publishing Corporation
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1268-07-14T16:00:00+00:00

could. He hit the water with a jarring splash and went under. When he managed to surface again, sputtering and coughing, they were lined up on the bank, teeth chattering. One of them squeaked, “Have a bath, muddy friend!” Another, who seemed to be the leader, gestured meaningfully with his spear. “Foreign fool, stay in town! We do not want you here!”

Kruger was treading water frantically to keep his head above the surface. He tried once more, plaintively, “I friend,” but it only brought on more tooth-gnashings. Several of the natives reached thoughtfully for arrows. Kruger took the hint and began to, swim down river as fast as he could. They followed him for always to make sure he kept going; but where the current ran fast, tumbling him> along, they seemed to tire of the pursuit and stopped. He could hear them chittering for a moment, then he was out of earshot The rapids gave him a battering, and he clawed his way ashore as soon as he could — on the opposite bank. He dragged himself out of sight and lay panting for a while, too exhausted even to curse.

Finally he hauled himself to a sitting position. “Damned stupid unprintable natives! I ought to go back to town and let them . . .” But, angrily, he got to his feet and glared upriver. No bunch of spear-carrying, naked, six-legged, overgrown otters was going to stop him!

H e went back up the off-side of the river, where there was no trail, needlegun clutched in his Hand this time, pausing every little way to

listen and to look for tracks. Apparently there were not large animals abroad here either, in daylight — tree-trunks were abraded here and there, but by now he was convinced that activity was nocturnal.

He made fairly good time; the soil was loamy and didn’t stick to his boots. Noon came and went. Not long after that, he began to hear horns — weird mournful notes that he presumed must be this world’s equivalent of hunting-horns.

He went on cautiously enough. What undid him, about mid-afternoon, was something he least expected — he began to hear baying, back in the direction from which he’d come. He crouched, staring that way. He’d be damned if those didn’t sound like dogs!

Well, dogs or some Marrech equivalent, they were certainly on his trail. He looked around anxiously. There was supposed to be one creek branching off this side of the river, just below Sears’ ranch, and he must be near it now. If he could reach it in time . . .

It wasn’t more than a quarter-mile, but by the time he found the small stream the baying was close behind. Hastily, he waded upstream. Wouldn’t fool diem long, of course, if they were good tracking animals, but there was no time to construct any complicated trail-puzzles. He kept an eye out for any tree-limbs he might reach from the water. There! No — that tree wasn’t big enough; didn’t have enough foliage.

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