Destiny's Drum (Stories from the Golden Age) by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Tags: Adventure, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781592127481
Publisher: Galaxy Press LLC.
Published: 2010-06-01T10:00:00+00:00

But even so, the men were tipsy—quarrelsome with palm whiskey.

Patsy, standing in the shadows beside Sheridan, gripped his arm.

Placing his mouth close to her ear, he said, “Climb up that fig tree and watch. If anything happens, you’ll have a chance to run. And no one can stumble over you up there.”

She shook her head. “I’ll take that Lee-Enfield, if you don’t mind. And that pocketful of bullets you brought for it. I’ll want to be able to shoot fast if they mob you.”

“It wouldn’t do any good,” he protested. But she had already pulled the gun over his head and was inching back to the base of the fig tree.

Her eyes studied Sheridan’s face. Then she moved forward, slowly, and very deliberately kissed him on the mouth. Her boots scraped on the bark as she went up.

Sheridan, blinking, turned again, studying the clearing. A high seat, constructed of hand-hewn boards, had been placed between two trees at one side of the opening. On it sat King Kobo, reeling slightly, gripping a short stick. A brief shiver ran over Sheridan. The head of the stick had appeared to be a round ball some four inches in diameter, but when Kobo turned it, Sheridan saw that the thing was a dried human head, incredibly shrunken.

Other heads were there, hanging from poles, impaled on spikes, sitting in rows on boards.

Sheridan made his way around the outer edge of the circle until he was directly behind Kobo. The drummers, legs crossed before their crude instruments, swayed in time to their own rhythm. On each end of the row sat a man with a buffalo horn, adding an occasional note to the uproar.

Sheridan crept forward until he could touch Kobo’s chair. Then, sliding up without a sound, he gained his feet and leaned against the left-hand tree, as though he had been there all evening.

King Kobo, brown, clothed only in a loincloth, raked the circle before him with his eyes, taking in the scene, presiding over it, master of the universe, to judge from the expression on his face. His eyes slanted in Sheridan’s direction, started to look away and then jerked back. Kobo’s jaw went slack, and the hand that held the headed stick tightened. His black eyes gleamed with both anger and a new idea. He raised his hand to stop the drummers.

Instantly Sheridan turned. He placed his empty palm before Kobo’s face. Then he turned it, showing the brown man that nothing was held. Sheridan jerked his wrist, and the two of spades fluttered down into Kobo’s lap.

The brown jaw fell, the white filed teeth glittered in the firelight. Unaware that anything was wrong, the dancers danced on, the drummers drummed, stifling all speech.

Sheridan showed the hand to be empty again, turned it carefully. The six of diamonds fluttered out of his empty palm. Kobo leaned back, fear seeping through him, taking the starch out of his spine. Sheridan displayed the entire deck of cards. Then he let them shower down from his right hand to his left.

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