Part 13 (1/2)

”The same as now,” she admitted.

”And it never changed.”

”No,”--slowly--”it never changed.”

Chet turned to Walt and Kreiss. ”That's that,” he said shortly. ”Any other good ideas in the crowd? Can anyone go through that gas and get to the s.h.i.+p? I'll make a try.”

”Suicide!” was Kreiss' verdict, and Harkness confirmed his words.

”I saw things that moved up in the trees,” he said. ”Lord knows what they were; Birds--beasts of some sort! But they were alive till the gas touched them. I saw it drift among the trees when we left, and those things up there came plopping down like ripe apples.”

Diane Delacouer looked up at Harkness with wide, serious eyes. ”Then,”

she shrugged, ”we are really--”

”Castaways,” Harkness told her. ”We're on our own--off on a desert island--s.h.i.+pwrecked--all that sort of thing! And you might as well know the worst of it; you, too, Kreiss.

”Our good friend, Schwartzmann, is at large, and he has the pistol and ammunition we brought out from the s.h.i.+p. He is armed, and we are not; he has food, and we have none. And I'll have to admit that I didn't have any breakfast and could use a little right now.”

”There are seven sh.e.l.ls left in my pistol,” said Diane. She held the weapon out to Harkness; he took it carefully.

”Seven,” he said; ”it is all we have. We must kill some animals for food, my dear, but not with these; we must save these for bigger game.”

”But we cannot!” expostulated Kreiss. ”To kill game with our bare hands--impossible! We are doomed!”

And now Chet caught Diane's glance br.i.m.m.i.n.g with mirth that was undisguised. Truly, Diane Delacouer would have her laugh in the face of death.

”Doomed?” she exclaimed. ”Not while Chet and I know how to make bows and arrows!... Do you suppose we can find any of their old spears, Chet?

They made gorgeous bows, you remember.”

And Chet bowed low in an exaggeration of admiration that was not entirely a.s.sumed. ”Lead on!” he said. ”You are in command. The army is ready to follow.”

CHAPTER IX

_A Premonition_

Fire Valley had been the home of the ape-men. On that earlier journey Walt and Chet had seen them, had fought with the tribe, and had lived for a time in their caves that made dark shadows high on the rock wall.

And they knew that the wood the ape-men used for their spears was well suited for bows.

Back in the caves they found discarded spears and some wood that had been gathered for shafts. Tough, springy, flexible, it was a simple matter for the men to convert these into serviceable weapons. Sinews that the ape-men had torn from great beasts made the bowstrings, and there were other slim shafts that they notched, then sharpened in the fire.

Yet, to Chet as he worked, came an overwhelming feeling of despondency.

To be fas.h.i.+oning crude weapons like these--preparing to defend themselves as best they could from the dangers of this new, raw world!

No, it could not be true.... And he knew while he protested that it was all in vain.