Children of Tomorrow by Arthur Leo Zagat (free children's ebooks online .TXT) đ
- Author: Arthur Leo Zagat
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âForgive you, Danhall?â The words fell like stones from Dikarâs lips. âYou didnât knowâSure, I forgive you for killinâ Marilee.â
âKillinâ her!â Bengreen exclaimed. âBunk! Sheâs not killed. Look at the way sheâs bleedinâ. Iâve killed too many deer not to know bleedinâ stops when oneâs dead. Sheâs alive, you nuts, but she wonât be alive long if you keep on sittinâ there, holdinâ her like a ninny anâ lettinâ her bleed.â
âNot dead,â Dikar whispered, staring down at the redness that welled out of Marileeâs side and ran down over his thighs. âSheâs notââ
He could think again, could move again. He lifted Marilee across his arms, laid her gently down on a bed of soft moss near the foot of the tree out of which Danhall had shot her, knelt again.
âFind me some of those leaves that stop bleedinâ,â he threw over his shoulder. âQuick.â He saw now that the arrow had gone deep in Marileeâs side, but its point had hit bone and so it had not gone in far enough to kill her, not even far enough for its barbs to be held except by a little skin. Dikar pulled the arrow out, flung it away. Blood spurted and he put his hands down on the wound, pressed.
âLift hanâs up, you fella!â a new voice ordered, hoarse and terrible. âHurry befoh you get one big lot lead in you.â
Dikarâs hands were red with Marileeâs blood, but the bleeding had stopped and if he lifted them it would start again. He turned his head to say so, saw a great long gun pointing from out in the light, saw the black hands that held the gun, and the man against whose shoulder the hands held the gun.
The man stood straddle-legged out in the yellow field. He was dressed in dark green, and the little round things that held the green together were yellow bright in the fading light. His black face was flat-nosed and shiny, animal like. His thick, purplish lips snarled like those of a wildcat, just before it pounces on its prey.
The brush rustled, a little way from Dikar, where Bengreen and Danhall and Henfield had been looking for the leaves Dikar needed. âCome out you fella,â the black man ordered. His big eyes, that had too much white in them, moved back and forth a little and his long gun moved back and forth. âCome out fom dere.â
Dikarâs heart bumped his ribs. Neither eyes nor gun were moving quite to where he was. The black man hadnât seen him! The black man was out there in the light but Dikar, bent down behind the tall brush that marked off the field and the woods, was in the deep shadow of the woods and so the man with the gun hadnât seen Dikar at all.
Arms above his head, Bengreen came out in the field, and Henfield and Danhall came out beside him. âStop dere,â the man said, and the look on his black face, gaping at them, was funny. âWat kind fella you are?â the black gasped. âWâere your cloâes?â
âWhat clothes?â Bengreen asked, grinning. âThis ainât winter, is it?â Dikar looked down at his hands. They were red with Marileeâs blood but she wasnât bleeding any more. If he took his hands away she would start bleeding again, and she would die.
âYou one fella tink you smart, huh?â Dikar heard the black manâs hoarse voice, but Dikar was remembering what he had seen men like him do to white women, that dreadful day when he had been in this far land before. Better for Marilee to die than that. âBut Jubal smarter,â he heard. âJubal know you âscape from one fella jail camp anâ take all cloâes off so if you get killed nobody know wat guards you pay to let you âscape. See? No use try fool Jubal. You tell Jubal were you come from, so Jubal get rewahd, anâ Jubal make fings easier foh you.â
Dikar took his hands away from the wound in Marileeâs side. âA good sleep to you, Marilee,â he whispered. âA good night. Iâll be with you soon.â
âWâere you come from?â Jubal asked again, slow and hoarse, and there was something in his voice that made Dikar shiver. A gust of wind brought the smell of Jubal to Dikar, and that was worse than his voice.
Dikar pulled an arrow from his quiver, looked around for his bow. âIf we told you,ââthe grin was still in Bengreenâs voiceââyou would know as much as we do.â Dikar remembered that his bow was out there in the field, dropped there when he jumped to catch Marilee. The arrow was no good without the bow.
âWâat you gonna know after Jubal blow you to little pieces witâ dis gun? Donât fink Jubal, no do it. Târee more dead âMerican make no diffârence, Jubal kill plenty already.â
âGo ahead. Blow us to pieces anâ see if we care. I dare you, anâ doubleââ Dikar didnât hear the rest of what Bengreen was saying because Dikar had slithered silent as a snake, behind the great trunk of the tree. And now he was erect, was leaping high to the treeâs lowermost bough, was lying motionless along that bough while all about him was the rustle of leaves, loud and terrifying.
âWâat dat,â he heard Jubalâs shout. âWâat dat in de tree?â All of Dikar, inside him, pulled together, waiting for the thunder of Jubalâs gun, waiting for Jubalâs lead to tear through him, but he managed to make a sound through his rounded mouth, the âkoooo-hoooâ of an owl.
âNothinâ but an owl, Jubal,â Danball laughed. âAinât you ashamed, beinâ scared by an owl?â
Dikar slid along the bough, slowly, very slowly, very carefully, and now the treeâs leaves made no more sound than as if the wind were blowing through them.
âJubal no scared,â the blackâs voice came up to him. âJubal not scared of notâinâ, but you better be big fella scared of Jubal. You tell were you come from, befoh Jubal count five or Jubal shoot. One on end, with yella hair, first. All right. Oneââ
Dikar could see them now, through the leaves, the three Boys from the Mountain standing in a line, their arms over their beads, brown and naked except for their little aprons, Jubal, spraddle-legged, black and huge, his eyes small now, and red, his long gun butted against his green shoulder and pointing straight at Henfield.
âTwoââ
The Boys were under the tip of the tree boughs, but Jubal was farther out in the field, seven paces at least. Dikar slid further out along the swaying bough.
âThreeââ
Dikar was almost to the end of the bough, and it was bending with his weight. If Jubal looked up now, he would see Dikar, couldnât help but see him.
âFourââ
Dikar, gathering his legs under him, saw cords stand out on the back of the black hand whose finger was curled around the little thing on the gun that, pulled, would shoot it off. Jubal was going to say five now, and thenâ
âNo,â Henfield screamed. âDonât shoot. Donât shoot me. Iâll tell. Weâre fromââ
Dikar leaped, the whip of the bough added to the lash of his muscles sending him out, far out over the heads of the Boys. He hurtled down, straight down on top of Jubal, pounding the black down. Thunder deafened Dikar but his hand slashed down, the arrow clenched in it, lifted and slashed down again on the heaving, screaming thing beneath him, and warm wetness spurted over Dikarâs hand and that which was beneath him heaved no longer.
Dikar was on his feet, and the Boys were around him, jabbering words he could not get. Dikar saw Henfieldâs face, eyes still wide, mouth still agape. Dikarâs hand lashed out, slapped, open-palmed, across Henfieldâs cheek.
âYou yellow-belly,â Dikar heard himself say. âYou lousy yellow-belly,â and then he was striding, stiff-legged, back to Marilee, was once more kneeling beside her.
Marilee lay on the green moss, terribly still and terribly white except where the blood was scarlet on her side and browning at the edges. Browning! The blood flowed no more out of Marileeâs wound. Sheâd stopped bleedingâ
But Dikar saw the pale nostrils flutter, and he breathed again. Her wound, he saw, had closed of itself. That was why sheâd stopped bleeding. The wound wasnât bad, Dikar saw now. Many of the Bunch had been hurt lots worse and none had diedâŠ
âHereâs your bow, Dikar,â Bengreen said, bending to him, âAnâ Jubalâs gun.â Dikar looked up.
âYou keep the gun,â he said, âanâ take the Boys back to the Mountain. Go in the tops of the trees, that way youâll leave no trail. It will be night very soon now, anâ you have a good chance to get back without their beinâ able to follow you.â
âTo follow us!â Bengreen exclaimed. âWhat about you? What about Marilee?â
âMarilee canât be carried through the treetops,â Dikar sat back on his haunches, âwithout openinâ her wound, anâ so she will surely bleed to death on the way. If we make somethinâ on which to carry her along the ground, we will make so many signs that we would lead them straight to the Mountain. So Marilee must stay here. I will stay with her, but I promise you that if they come, they will not find either of us alive. Now go, Boys. The quicker you start, the better your chances. Go.â
Bengreen shook his head. âNo, Dikar. We do not go without you anâ Marilee. But you are right about leavinâ a trail to the Mountain if we carry her, so we must stay here with you. I must stay, I should say. I have no right to speak for the others.â
âYou speak also for me, Bengreen,â Danhall said. âI do not go back to the Bunch without you anâ Dikar and Marilee.â
âI speak for myself.â Henfield stood straight in the forest shadows that had grown so dark that he too, seemed a shadow. âDikar! You slapped my face. You called me a yellow-belly. Did you have a gun pointinâ at you? Did you bear a voice count, âOne, two, three, four,â very slow, anâ know that when it counted âfive,â you would die?â
âNo, Henfield.â
âThen what right did you have to slap my face anâ call me a yellow-belly?â
âI suppose I had no right, Henfield. I suppose I was no fair.â
âYou had no right, Dikar, but you were right to call me that. I was a yellow-belly, but I am not, anâ never will be again. I looked death in the face, anâ I did not die, anâ I never again will be afraid to die. Dikar, will you let me stay with you anâ Bengreen anâ Danhall anâ Marilee? Because I want to. I want to very much.â
Dikar lifted to his feet, put his arm around Henfieldâs shoulder, and smiled. âYou are no yellow-belly,â he said, very quietly. âBut I will not let you stay, anâ I will not let Bengreen or Danhall stay. The Bunch needs you three, anâ you can do nothinâ by stayinâ here. I am still your Boss, Boys, anâ I order you to go, anâ it is for the good of the Bunch that I order youââ Dikar whirled to a rustle in the brush, saw that a formless shape blotched
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