Time Travel Omnibus, page 80
“For quite a while I must have stood there motionless, peering in. A portion of a large room was in the line of my sight. It seemed unoccupied—a back wall hung with something dark; a sort of low couch to one side; queerly shaped, low chairs and a table or two. And there was a floor covering of some thick, soft textile, and several furs lying about—a large fur rug covering the couch—I got the idea It might have been a dogskin.
“To the right I could see a low archway, hung with a curtain. That was in the direction of the girl’s room. There were two other archways with curtains but evidently no interior doors to the house.
“I had been pressing against the glass pane; it seemed to give a little. I pushed. The motion was inward, and greater at the bottom. I knelt down and shoved it. The lower half swung silently and smoothly inward and upward while the upper half came out and down. The whole twelve foot pane was pivoted at its center. When it paralleled the floor it stopped, and there was a six foot high opening for me to walk under and into the house.
“I TOOK a cautious step, listening intently, peering around me—with the sudden feeling that something supernatural might leap forth—spring at me—any instant.
“But the Collinger in my hand—my finger on its trigger—gave me courage. In my left hand I held the electric flashlight; and very slowly I crept toward the curtained archway behind which I hoped the girl might be. Suddenly I remembered my cap. I smiled at the absurdity of the detail—but nevertheless I pulled it off and stuffed it in my pocket. Then I went forward, pushed aside the curtain, and entered the space behind it.
“I was in darkness as the curtain dropped. It must have been a sort of anteroom, or a short hallway, for some twenty feet ahead of me I saw another curtain with a blue radiance beyond it.
“A moment more and I had pushed aside the further curtain and stood peering into the room beyond. It was more dimly lighted than the living room. Across it, in an angle of the wall, the first thing my gaze caught was a low couch or divan, bathed in the blue radiance from a brazier beside it, which left the rest of the room in gloom. The girl lay there asleep. A soft, pure-white fur was covering her, but her bare arms and shoulders were above it. An arm was crooked under her head for a pillow—the other, white almost as the rug, lay stretched out over the fur. On her breast her golden hair lay in waves.
“I stood transfixed at the ethereal loveliness of the face, calm in deep slumber—a small oval face of seemingly perfect features, with soft, curving red lips slightly parted; smooth cheeks with a delicate rose color in them, and long dark lashes that lay motionless as she slept.
“My emotion at the picture was short lived—other thoughts crowded upon me. What was I to do? I could not awaken the girl and ask her to come with me. She would not understand the words, and if she did, she would probably have screamed before I could get them out. Seize her—stifle her cries and carry her off forcibly? That is what I should have done, perhaps—taken her to the plane and left explanations until afterward.
“But, gentlemen, you will understand me—I could not bring myself to do that. Indeed, my whole instinct was to retreat from the room. I felt myself a gross intruder in a sanctified place, my very gaze an insult.
“What I should finally have done, I do not know. Events took the decision out of my hands. The wind outside roared with a sudden gust that must have pulled loose something under the eaves. There came a rattle, a thump, loud in the silence of the house. Then the wind died again.
“I glanced up to the ceiling, startled, with my heart pounding and the Collinger pointed toward the sound. I could see nothing but the dark rectangle of a window up there. My gaze fell again to the couch—and met the opened eyes of the girl! She was sitting up, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, one hand instinctively gripping the white fur to raise it more closely about her, the other pressed against her mouth. I think I could never imagine an expression of more utter terror than that on her face.
“I murmured something intended to be reassuring and made the mistake of taking a step forward. It was the worst thing I could have done, for her frightened scream rang out through the house.
“I tried to think quickly, but I realized now I was wholly confused, I turned back toward the curtain. I would escape from the house—come back some other time. Or should I pick her up now, and run with her? She was small—frail. I could carry her easily; escape almost as quickly with her, perhaps, as by myself. And shoot back at any one—or anything—that followed.
“I found myself back at her couch. She had withdrawn to the further side of it, huddled against the wall. Her horrified eyes were on my face but she did not scream again.
“There was a noise behind me, I swung about. The curtain was parting. There was a figure there. I could not see it plainly; it was in the darkness and I was in the light. I aimed the Collinger, pressed the trigger. Simultaneously a tiny pencil-point of light seemed to spring at me from where the figure was standing—a brief, very tiny, but horrible intense glare flashed in my eyes.
“I was in darkness; everything went black. I did not fall, but reeled sidewise. I heard a mocking laugh; footsteps running up to me; a hand struck me across the mouth.
“It is terrible to fight in total darkness. I stumbled aimlessly somewhere, and felt the Collinger twisted from me. But when I lurched in that direction, my outflung arms met only empty air. Again a hand struck me across the mouth; again that mocking laugh. My assailant was playing with me!
“I was unhurt, and desperately I rushed to where I thought the room’s exit might be. But strong fingers gripped my shoulder and I was flung violently sidewise. I must have struck my head against something as I went down. My senses faded; the last thing I remember was that jeering, mocking laughter that came out of the darkness!”
“I CAME to myself still lying where I A had fallen. Striking my head had knocked me out momentarily. I heard voices; some one was kneeling beside me.
“I opened my eyes, but everything was black. I remember feeling my head. It was not cut—only a lump on it. I was unhurt, and I struggled to a sitting position. Whoever it was beside me, now stood up and moved away. The girl’s voice came to me out of the darkness. The low words were unintelligible—yet they were words not wholly unfamiliar in ring.
“The darkness was full of little darting red spots. And my eyes pained me—the back of the eyeballs were burning. I was blind. I had not realized it—”
“Blind!” exclaimed Georgie. “Oh, that little light he shot at you—”
“I had not realized it before; I thought the light in the room had suddenly been extinguished—and a vague idea that my antagonist could see in the dark had possessed me. But it wasn’t so. He had blinded me, with the tiny flash of light that had struck into my eyes.
“My head was still reeling from the blow when I fell. They carried me, half conscious, into some other room, and left me lying on something soft. I closed my eyes, but I could not shut out those darting red spots. At last, I must have drifted off to sleep.
“When I awoke it was morning. The red glow of the sunrise was coming in a small aperture up near the ceiling. I could see it; the blindness had passed. My head was still ringing, my eyes still pained me. But I was uninjured.
“I was on a low couch, with a fur rug under me. My overcoat lay beside me on the floor. The whole thing seemed like a dream to my mind, but Anally I got it straightened out.
“I was in a fairly large bedroom. Two windows of heavy transparent material were up near the ceiling. Opposite to the windows was a doorway with a curtain. I slipped into my overcoat, searching its pockets. My cap was there, but the compass and the flashlight were gone and my Collinger had already been taken from me.
“The storm outside seemed to have passed. The house was dead silent. I went to the curtain; beyond it was a small hall, empty, and with another curtain at its further end. This I pushed aside cautiously I was looking into the main living room of the house, and met the direct gaze of a man who was lounging there!
“I dropped the curtain hastily, but he had seen me and sprung to his feet—a powerful man, taller than myself, with gray, wide trousers and naked torso. I had retreated back to the bedroom—the fear of what he might do to me, blind me or worse, made me anything but anxious to encounter him again.
“He followed, and was upon me, twisting me by the shoulders to face him. He was a man of about thirty-five. Black hair, long to the base of his neck. Smooth-shaven—a strong, rugged face, with keen gray eyes beneath black, bushy brows; a nose a little like a hawk’s beak, and a wide mouth with thin lips. It was the sort of face that bespoke power—a nature born to dominate Its fellows. And cruel, essentially cruel about the mouth. His gaze was searching—puzzled. I knew he was trying to make me out—wondering what manner of man I was—where I had come from. He spoke to me. I could not understand the words, but again I got the impression that they were familiar English words spoken differently. I answered; I don’t remember what; but he frowned, and pushed me from him, toward the couch.
“I had decided to appear docile. I stumbled to the couch and sat down on it. He stood in the center of the room, regarding me, and I managed what I hoped might be an ingratiating smile. This seemed to appeal to him, for he smiled back. Then he swung about and left the room.
“For a while I sat quiet. The girl—where she was I did not know. I would have escaped without her if I could—but escape did not seem possible. At least, It was more of a risk than I cared to take. The feeling came to me that even now as I sat on the couch, I might be observed. How could I tell that some one was not watching me from behind some hidden orifice, through which, as I turned my gaze that way, that tiny, blinding beam of light would spring at me?
“It was too big a chance. I would wait, and when I knew better with what I had to contend, watch my opportunity to escape.
“The room was fairly light now—that queer reddish light. I could see the sky, brilliant with a glorious red sunrise, through the little windows overhead. I moved the table and climbed on it. Outside was snow, tinged with red. I was at an east end of the house, perhaps next to the girl’s room.
“At a corner of the building nearby, sat one of the dogs—like a gigantic shaggy wolf, quiet but alert. His head was fully six feet above the ground as he sat there squatting on his haunches. He heard me open the window, and trotted quietly over to look at me. My fascinated stare met his eyes squarely—eyes that seemed to hold an almost uncanny human intelligence. He seemed satisfied with the situation for he trotted back to the corner of the house, and sat down again. But he was still watching me.
“I dropped to the floor. The incident had left me shuddering. What manner of brutes were these, with gleaming tusklike teeth, dripping jowls and a power in those tremendous muscles that must have far exceeded the strongest horse! And eyes that might have been human! I was further from thinking of escape that moment than ever.
“For three days they fed me in that room. A woman came mostly. She wore a loose, shapeless robe of dark cloth. It was dowdy-looking. Her hair was iron-gray, long, to her waist, twisted into a bundle and bound with strips of dark cloth. Her face was thin—careworn. She brought me my food—some kinds of cooked meats, and starchy vegetables, like potatoes. She was kind enough—but grim, as though I were an unpleasant task that her conscience made her discharge punctilliously.
“I tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t understand me—nor I her. Afterward, I learned she was the older man’s old maid daughter. The old man himself came in a few times—a smooth-shaven, stalwart man of seventy perhaps, dressed in wide flowing trousers, and naked above the waist. Sometimes he wore a short little house jacket. His name was Bool. The younger man—the master of the house—was named Toroh. He came in and sat by me a few times, always intent to see that I was properly cared for. But there was no mistaking the fact that he would have killed me without compunction had I annoyed him; and I could not forget his sardonic laughter when he had blinded me.”
“You fired the Collinger at him,” Georgie said suddenly. “Didn’t you hit him? He wasn’t—wasn’t invulnerable to a bullet, was he?”
“No,” Loto answered with a smile. “He was quite as human as I. He was standing in the shadow and I missed him. His blinding-flash struck my eyes just as I fired. I was telling you about my first three days in the house. I did not see the girl, except once, just for a moment. I was not held to the room, although I stayed there almost continuously. And one or the other of those dogs was outside all the time. After the first day, I grew bold enough to go into the living room. The woman sent me back, but I tried it again.
“ONCE, when I was sitting alone in the main room, the girl entered. She stood in the doorway, and for the first time I realized how small and slight she was. She looked almost Egyptian—I mean her manner of dress. A blue-colored cloth was wound wide about her hips, with a dull red sash hanging knee-length down one side. Sandals on her bare feet; breastplates of metal; a broad, low-cut collar of cloth with little coins on it, that lay flat on her upper chest and widened to her shoulders. And her golden hair was parted forward over her shoulders in plaits that ended with little tassels.
“Of course, I didn’t see all those details then. She was standing there staring at me and this time there was no fear in her eyes—only curiosity. My heart leaped; it was what I had hoped for most. I could do nothing toward planning to get her out of the house so long as she continued afraid of me.
“I smiled at her in as inoffensive and friendly a fashion as I could. Her eyes fell, then came up, and I could see she was wondering at my clothes—my shoes, trousers, shirt and collar and tie. Abruptly the idea came to me that except for my garb, I probably did not look extraordinary or frightening to her. The thought gave me new courage. I stood up, and spoke. At once she turned and ran from the room.
“We were a strange household, but after a time, except for having my meals alone, I found I could move about pretty freely.
“Once Toroh brought me my electric torch, and making sure I did not aim it at him, he made me light it. I knew he believed it a weapon. I thought this a good chance to convince him I was friendly. I smiled and shined it into my eyes, to show him it was harmless. He grunted, and taking the flashlight from me tossed it across the room, as of no use or further interest.
“Then he produced my Collinger and made me show him how to operate it. But he was too clever to let me hold it; he did not let it get out of his hands. When he had fired it at a mark out the doorway, he grunted again and laid it on the snow. At a distance of twenty feet he stood with some object In his hand which he did not show me. Abruptly the Collinger flew into fragments! All its cartridges had been exploded simultaneously. The bullets whistled past us, startling Toroh as must as they did me. Later I learned he had exploded it by something akin to radio. He picked up the remains and when he got back into the house, he tossed my broken weapon away disdainfully. It was the attitude a soldier of today might have toward an Indian warrior and his bow and arrow.”
“But what did these people think you were?” the big Business Man demanded. “Some foreigner of their own world?”
“Toroh thought I had come from another planet. He had seen my plane the morning I hovered over the house. No one from another planet had been to the earth for centuries. But history told of them, and he thought I was one of them, come again. He treated me kindly enough—probably because I did not anger him or cross him in any way. But I had seen him strike the girl across the mouth; and one day he struck the woman. I have never seen such a look of sullen, repressed hatred as she gave him. She seemed to hate her father too. Later, I often saw him cuff her when she annoyed him.”
The Doctor would have interrupted, but Loto raised his hand. “I have so much to tell you. The girl—her name is Azeela. Toroh took two of his dogs and his sled and went away after about a week. He was gone a month. During that month I stayed docilely in the house. I saw many opportunities when I might have escaped. But now I would not, without taking Azeela, and I could not expose her to danger that always seemed imminent.
“I must have convinced them all that I was harmless. No one paid me great attention except the woman—Koa. Often I would see her peering furtively at me from some distant doorway.
“Azeela soon became friendly, and since we both had nothing to do, she devoted herself to learning my language. I tried to learn hers and failed miserably. But she picked mine up with extraordinary rapidity. Perhaps because her mind was quicker—her memory more retentive. And I think also because she had behind her the inherited instincts of knowledge through all the centuries from my own time world forward.
“At all events, within the month she could talk my English freely enough for us to get along—with a quaint little accent wholly indescribable and charming.”
“Your English!” exclaimed the Doctor. “Was her language English also?”
“Yes, sir. I think it was derived very nearly from the English we speak today. Mine was, to her—merely archaic. But hers, modern beyond my time, was too much for me. It was an extraordinary story that Azeela had to tell me—as extraordinary as mine must have seemed to her. We became friends, and with her confidence came a renewed desire on both our parts to escape. Her people were many hundred miles away. And when I told her of my plane, I very soon persuaded her to let me take her back to her own country.”
“Toroh hadn’t found the plane?” Georgie put in.
“No. If it had not snowed so heavily that first night, the dogs would have led him back over my trail to it. But it was still safe, though I did not know it then; and the thought that It might have been found bothered me a lot, I can tell you.
“We decided to try and escape. Toroh was expected back any day. We spent a morning discussing it—planning it in detail. My weapons were gone—Azeela did not know where they were. Bool had a cylinder of the blinding-flash—I call it that because their name for it would mean nothing to you. But we could not get it; he kept it always about his person. The woman, Koa, we did not think was armed—though she might have been.
