CHAPTER VIII
_Stampede_
Judd the Kite was enjoying himself hugely. His bestial sense of humorwas tickled. It was very funny, the contortions of the negro in theorange ray-stream!
"Climb over!" he suggested, amid roars of laughter from the circle ofmen. "Climb over, why don't you? I've turned off the current. There'sno electricity in the fence. You won't be hurt. Why don't you climbover?"
Friday did not, could not answer. His lips were sucked tight togethernow in wordless agony; the cheek muscles, strained taut, stood outlike welts of flesh; the huge body, bathed always in that steady glowof orange, was slightly livid in patches. He hopped mechanically,changing from one aching leg to the other; his eyes were closed halfthe time, his whole being one dumb agony. He did not know when itwould end, but he still had faith.
Overhead, the flames of four tarred wood torches bobbed and reeled asthe men who held them reeled; seemed to shake in the gusts of laughterand yells and oaths that came ceaselessly from the onlookers. And inthis distorted light the half-shadowed snouts and bodies of thephantis, clustered behind their nine-foot-high fence, looked indeeddiabolical. The fence was high, for the creatures possessed surprisingjumping powers; it was composed of eight strands of wire, runningparallel a foot apart from each other, with inter-crossing supports.The electric current, now turned off, always kept the phantis fromcrashing through.
Judd smiled more widely. "I guess I'll increase the power," his coarselips pronounced. "We'll see how you can duck a strong thin beam. I'llgive you about five minutes to climb over. After that you'll be burneddown slowly to a cinder. Now--will you climb? See--I'm moving thelever over. Watch, now, and feel--"
* * * * *
Suddenly his voice broke off short. There had been a hiss--a_spang_--a slight whip of sound. He glanced around swiftly. No, hismen had not noticed it. They were still laughing, roaring, swaying indrunken merriment. The Kite's lips curved upward again. He continued:
"Feel the heat increase. It's stronger, now, and--"
Again the _spang_, the whip, the streak of something swift. The mennoticed his expression and quieted somewhat. Judd was looking aroundhim, and even as he saw what it was there came a cry from a piratenearby.
"Look! The fence!"
Judd's eyes widened; his lips slackened and lost their smile. Thenoise, the laughs, the shouts, screams and oaths died into the night;frightened silence fell over the group, and all that was left were theconcerted bellowings and snortings from the enraged herd of beastsjust beyond.
All--except for another _spang_ that sounded as a streak of orangelight arrowed from somewhere through the flickering torchlight. Andwith its coming the third parallel strand of the corral-fence whippedapart with a little singing swish, shot neatly through, as were thetwo below it. Ten feet of fence on each side slumped visibly.
"Someone's shooting it through!" came a scared whisper. Yet still thebrigands, held fascinated by fear and puzzlement, stared at the fenceand at the surging crowd of stampede-crazy animals beyond.
Another _spang_, another streak of light! With deadly accuracy theshot clove the fourth strand. The lower half of a whole section offence was gone. Behind it the bucking, red-eyed phantis inchedforward, still afraid of the electric shock they thought was somewherethere, but drawn to the opening by their hatred of the two-leggedcreatures so near. Closer, closer! Then the befuddled pirates foundtheir senses. Even as the fifth arrow of light came from the invisiblemarksman and snapped the fifth strand, a concerted cry of fear of theadvancing beasts went up from the crowd of men.
"Run! Run! They're coming! They're coming out!"
They turned, panic-stricken; the torches fell flaring to the ground,to lie there in pools of flame; the brigands ran for the nearestshelter, the dark bulk of the ranch house close by. They ran, feartingling their spines, in their ears the sound of the maddenedphantis.
* * * * *
From his vantage point on the roof of the ranch house, the Hawkconfirmed his quick decision that this was the only way.
Rapidly, as was his custom, he had reckoned the problem out minutelyand carefully; had considered and checked every possibility. He hadto shoot the fence, not the brigands. For he couldn't hope to get morethan a couple of them: a pirate toppling over dead would jar theothers into instant action; they would scatter in the darkness,leaving the odds too great. And leaving, besides, small chance ofwiping out every one of the pirates.
As for Friday, he had to take his chance. There was, this way, a goodchance, if he used his brain. For, to the left, as close as the ranchhouse to the corral, were the grave-pits he himself had dug some hoursbefore, and one was still empty, waiting to be filled. It offeredshelter, a good chance--if he used his brain. He, Carse, would do allhe could to protect him from the stampeding beasts while he ran.
Some of the pirates would be snared by the rush of phantis. Four orfive would probably reach the ranch house. That was what he wanted.
And that was what he got. His fifth shot fired, straight and true fromthe ray-gun of the most accurate marksman of space, the Hawk loweredthe weapon and gazed at the scene resulting, a ghost of a smile on hislips.
He saw the mob of creatures, in a bedlam of noise, sweep under thefence that had for so long kept them back. Bellowing their hatred,their cruel spurs eager for blood, they charged. Before them fled thethin fringe of men, Friday on one flank. A man went down with ascream; a half-grown horn knifed into him; he was trampled, gored,spurred, and left a bloody welter of death in seconds. Another,hearing the loud thud of feet just behind, turned with desperate eyes,dodged, tripped, shrieked and was caught and ripped. Another andanother. In the dancing, flickering half-light of the flames of fireand torches, a hellish scene of devastation and death spun out.
* * * * *
Carse was shooting again, with the cold mechanical precision of amachine. There was Friday to be guarded. He was now separated from theother men--cut off and edging to one side--to the side where was thegrave-pit! Dodging, wildly twisting and turning, he several timesbarely escaped three or four phantis that thundered after him. Theleader took perhaps ten steps: then its body quivered and it tumbledover and flopped on the ground, a little wisp of smoke curling fromits body. The other two went down in swift succession. But there weremany, and even as Friday melted into the shadows, a group of severalbeasts detached themselves and roared after him. The deadly ray-gun onthe roof wrought swift slaughter amongst them, but some got into thedarkness beyond vision of the icy gray eyes.
Carse lowered his weapon. His face was very hard and very set. Wouldthey catch the negro? Tumble down on him if he made the pit? Well,there was no helping it....
But the reckoning would soon be finished; the time was at hand. Coldas the deeps of space despite the awful havoc he had just created,totally without visible emotion, he drew the last unused ray-gun fromhis belt and put it in the shabby holster. One would be enough.
Shadow-like, noiseless and swift, he moved towards the far end of theroof.
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