Перші люди на Місяці
Chapter 17 — The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers
Iseemtorememberakindofstereotypedphraserunningthroughmymind:“Zoneoffire,seekcover!”IknowImadeadashforthespacebetweentwoofthecarcasses,andstoodtherepantingandfeelingverywicked.
IlookedroundforCavor,andforamomentitseemedasifhehadvanishedfromtheworld.Thenhecameoutofthedarknessbetweentherowofthecarcassesandtherockywallofthecavern.Isawhislittleface,darkandblue,andshiningwithperspirationandemotion.
Hewassayingsomething,butwhatitwasIdidnotheed.Ihadrealisedthatwemightworkfrommooncalftomooncalfupthecaveuntilwewerenearenoughtochargehome.Itwaschargeornothing.“Comeon!”Isaid,andledtheway.
“Bedford!”hecriedunavailingly.
Mymindwasbusyaswewentupthatnarrowalleybetweenthedeadbodiesandthewallofthecavern.Therockscurvedabout—theycouldnotenfiladeus.Thoughinthatnarrowspacewecouldnotleap,yetwithourearth-bornstrengthwewerestillabletogoverymuchfasterthantheSelenites.Ireckonedweshouldpresentlycomerightamongthem.Oncewewereonthem,theywouldbenearlyasformidableasblackbeetles.Onlytherewouldfirstofallbeavolley.Ithoughtofastratagem.IwhippedoffmyflanneljacketasIran.
“Bedford!”pantedCavorbehindme.
Iglancedback.“What?”saidI.
Hewaspointingupwardoverthecarcasses.“Whitelight!”hesaid.“Whitelightagain!”
Ilooked,anditwasevenso;afaintwhiteghostoflightintheremotercavernroof.Thatseemedtogivemedoublestrength.
“Keepclose,”Isaid.
