Page:Weird Tales Volume 3 Number 3 (1923-03).djvu/60

Another Thrilling Installment of
JOHN MARTIN LEAHY'S
Amazing Novel

I lost no time in getting up on the ledge.

"I'll keep an eye on the entrance," said Henry, "and these fellows behind us. You two give all your attention to the steps."

And we did, or, rather, to the men charging up those steps—which, I have forgotten to say, were broken by two landing-places. No sound came from the watching multitude below or those watchers near us, and from the charging Venusians no cries, no sound of voices even, only those sounds made by their rapid movements.

Some were armed with spears, others with swords, the weapons flashing in that lurid light as though with imprisoned fire. Why they did not use bows and arrows, in the use of which they are proficient, has always been something of a mystery to me: Perhaps, though, there were no bows and arrows at hand, or it might have been for fear of killing some of those Venusians behind us.

And into that anadromous mass we poured our deadly fire. The men had started up with a rush, but, ere a quarter of the ascent even, that rush had abated not a little. Yet on they came, grim and silent as Fate.

"When your rifles are empty," said Henry, "I'll reload them—use your revolvers."

Hardly had he spoken when St. Cloud, who had kept up a rapid and deadly fire, sent his rifle toward him, drawing his revolver as he did so.

I glanced back at the entrance, dark and yawning as the mouth of a cavern. A charge, I thought, would come from there at any instant. But, as I glanced, the place was empty and (it seemed) silent.

The charging Venusians were near the top now. I fired the last bullet in my rifle, dropped that weapon and drew my revolver.

A few seconds, and Death would come leaping to our ledge.

I shot a look at Henry, who had emptied his own rifle and was now reloading St. Cloud's. I say reloading, but at that instant he was looking at the girl. I knew full well what was in his mind. With a yell that must have sounded more like a demon's than a man's, I turned and emptied my revolver into the crowd. To my amazement, it was beginning to waver now—waver when, with awful toll, it had attained the top.

"Give it to 'em—they're losing heart!" shouted Henry.

He dropped the rifle and drew his revolvers.

"They're beginning—look out!" he yelled.

The Venusians had halted confusedly, some, indeed, already were falling back, and from their midst came wild cries and yells and the groans of the wounded and the dying—a confused, terrible sound. But what had caused Henry to give his warning ery was the spears: the words were still in the air when they came, eight or ten of them—I don't know how many. Down went St. Cloud and I, flat on the stone, or as flat as the circumstances would permit—my sudden movement nearly precipitating me over the edge into that dark depth below.

And, at this very instant, through all that tumult and horror, came the sound, loud, unmistakable, of armed men behind—to be precise, behind and to the right.

The spears drove in all around us, the blade of one sending up a shower of sparks as it cut along the stone past my face. Every one of us, including the girl, was struck, though (it was nothing less than a miracle) not a one with point or blade.

Henry's revolvers barked. I came to my knees. The Venusians—who, had they pressed forward, would have destroyed us incontinently—of a sudden turned and started down the steps in the wildest confusion.

I looked behind. What had happened at the top of the steps had brought those Venusians in the entrance to a halt. I waited, hoping there would be no occasion for further spilling of blood; but St. Cloud began firing into their midst, whereupon they turned and vanished into the darkness whence they had come, leaving two wounded and one dead man there on the floor behind them.

"Praised be Nike!" cried Henry Quainfan. "I thought we were goners that time."

"Praised be Jehovah!" said I.

I turned and watched the men fleeing down the steps, several of whom were felled with bullets from St. Cloud's rifle.

"Hold on, Morgan!" exclaimed Henry. "Let the poor devils go!"

St. Cloud slowly lowered his Winchester, looking at Henry with disgust depicted on his handsome features.

"Yes—let 'em go!" he exclaimed angrily. "Every man that gets away means one more for the next attack."

"Good Lord!" Henry exclaimed.

Then in a changed voice:

"If you keep that up, you won't have a single bullet for the next attack—if there is another."

"If there is!" exclaimed St. Cloud. "Do you think they won't make us pay for this? Just wait till they recover their wits!"

He looked about him anxiously, a little wildly even.

"Here's where this mad journey of ours ends—in a heathenish, bloody place of sacrifice, in battle and madness."

"In battle perhaps," said Henry Quainfan, "but not in madness."

"It is mad!" exclaimed St. Cloud. "All this—and worse than madness! We should have known in that mad beginning: the Almighty—"

"Lord help us!" interrupted Henry.

"You're too late!! St. Cloud told him.

"Cheer up, Morgan," Henry smiled. "While there's life, there's hope, you know."

"Bosh!" said Morgan. "And we'd need it all if there was."

Of a sudden that smile of Henry's vanished, his face becoming hard and bleak. Not a little surprised, I wondered what had come to make this change, for I knew that his eyes had fallen on nothing to cause it. His gaze wandered over the steps, dotted with dead and wounded Venusians, over the