Перші люди на Місяці
Chapter 11 — The Mooncalf Pastures
“Cover,”whisperedCavor,andIturnedtowardsthebushes.
Atthatinstantcameathudlikethethudofagun,andthenathinghappened—itstillhauntsmeinmydreams.IhadturnedmyheadtolookatCavor’sface,andthrustoutmyhandinfrontofmeasIdidso.Andmyhandmetnothing!Iplungedsuddenlyintoabottomlesshole!
Mychesthitsomethinghard,andIfoundmyselfwithmychinontheedgeofanunfathomableabyssthathadsuddenlyopenedbeneathme,myhandextendedstifflyintothevoid.Thewholeofthatflatcircularareawasnomorethanagiganticlid,thatwasnowslidingsidewaysfromoffthepitithadcoveredintoaslotpreparedforit.
HaditnotbeenforCavorIthinkIshouldhaveremainedrigid,hangingoverthismarginandstaringintotheenormousgulfbelow,untilatlasttheedgesoftheslotscrapedmeoffandhurledmeintoitsdepths.ButCavorhadnotreceivedtheshockthathadparalysedme.Hehadbeenalittledistancefromtheedgewhenthelidhadfirstopened,andperceivingtheperilthatheldmehelpless,grippedmylegsandpulledmebackward.Icameintoasittingposition,crawledawayfromtheedgeforaspaceonallfours,thenstaggeredupandranafterhimacrossthethundering,quiveringsheetofmetal.Itseemedtobeswingingopenwithasteadilyacceleratedvelocity,andthebushesinfrontofmeshiftedsidewaysasIran.
Iwasnonetoosoon.Cavor’sbackvanishedamidstthebristlingthicket,andasIscrambledupafterhim,themonstrousvalvecameintoitspositionwithaclang.Foralongtimewelaypanting,notdaringtoapproachthepit.
