Out of Times Abyss | Page 6

On the chance that he might avoid a clash, Bradley stepped forward
with upraised hand. "We are friends, " he called in the tongue of Ahm,
the Bolu, who had been held a prisoner at the fort; "permit us to pass in
peace. We will not harm you."
At this the hatchet-men set up a great jabbering with much laughter,

loud and boisterous. "No," shouted one, "you will not harm us, for we
shall kill you. Come! We kill! We kill!" And with hideous shouts they
charged down upon the Europeans.
"Sinclair, you may fire," said Bradley quietly." Pick off the leader.
Can't waste ammunition."
The Englishman raised his piece to his shoulder and took quick aim at
the breast of the yelling savage leaping toward them. Directly behind
the leader came another hatchet-man, and with the report of Sinclair's
rifle both warriors lunged forward in the tall grass, pierced by the same
bullet. The effect upon the rest of the band was electrical. As one man
they came to a sudden halt, wheeled to the east and dashed into the
jungle, where the men could hear them forcing their way in an effort to
put as much distance as possible between themselves and the authors of
this new and frightful noise that killed warriors at a great distance.
Both the savages were dead when Bradley approached to examine them,
and as the Europeans gathered around, other eyes were bent upon them
with greater curiosity than they displayed for the victim of Sinclair's
bullet. When the party again took up the march around the southern end
of the pool the owner of the eyes followed them--large, round eyes,
almost expressionless except for a certain cold cruelty which glinted
malignly from under their pale gray irises.
All unconscious of the stalker, the men came, late in the afternoon, to a
spot which seemed favorable as a campsite. A cold spring bubbled
from the base of a rocky formation which overhung and partially
encircled a small inclosure. At Bradley's command, the men took up
the duties assigned them--gathering wood, building a cook-fire and
preparing the evening meal. It was while they were thus engaged that
Brady's attention was attracted by the dismal flapping of huge wings.
He glanced up, expecting to see one of the great flying reptiles of a
bygone age, his rifle ready in his hand. Brady was a brave man. He had
groped his way up narrow tenement stairs and taken an armed maniac
from a dark room without turning a hair; but now as he looked up, he
went white and staggered back.

"Gawd!" he almost screamed. "What is it?"
Attracted by Brady's cry the others seized their rifles as they followed
his wide-eyed, frozen gaze, nor was there one of them that was not
moved by some species of terror or awe. Then Brady spoke again in an
almost inaudible voice. "Holy Mother protect us--it's a banshee!"
Bradley, always cool almost to indifference in the face of danger, felt a
strange, creeping sensation run over his flesh, as slowly, not a hundred
feet above them, the thing flapped itself across the sky, its huge, round
eyes glaring down upon them. And until it disappeared over the tops of
the trees of a near-by wood the five men stood as though paralyzed,
their eyes never leaving the weird shape; nor never one of them
appearing to recall that he grasped a loaded rifle in his hands.
With the passing of the thing, came the reaction. Tippet sank to the
ground and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Gord," he moaned. "Tyke
me awy from this orful plice." Brady, recovered from the first shock,
swore loud and luridly. He called upon all the saints to witness that he
was unafraid and that anybody with half an eye could have seen that the
creature was nothing more than "one av thim flyin' alligators" that they
all were familiar with.
"Yes," said Sinclair with fine sarcasm, "we've saw so many of them
with white shrouds on 'em."
"Shut up, you fool!" growled Brady. "If you know so much, tell us
what it was after bein' then."
Then he turned toward Bradley. "What was it, sor, do you think?" he
asked.
Bradley shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "It looked like a
winged human being clothed in a flowing white robe. Its face was more
human than otherwise. That is the way it looked to me; but what it
really was I can't even guess, for such a creature is as far beyond my
experience or knowledge as it is beyond yours. All that I am sure of is
that whatever else it may have been, it was quite material--it was no

ghost; rather just another of the strange forms of life