Timestamp meme - Fenndom
For puddingcat:
Gedge wiped an arm across his plain and perspiring face before bending once more to his work. His muscles ached in a pleasant manner, letting him feel he had at last exercised in a way that had been denied to him for some days. Beside him, the native labourers worked on, enlarging the trench they had started in the cool before dawn. They spoke little, other than to make disparaging remarks about the Professor and his directions to them. Gedge felt very queer, as if he were a spy in their midst, for he felt sure they were not aware that he could understand more than one or two words of their tongue. 'Oh,' he thought, 'I don't like the way they're so rude about us! But it don't make much sense to have us working in this heat.' As if the workers had some supernatural power to discern his thoughts, at that very moment the native foreman leapt down beside him and seize his shovel.
'Go, rest,' said that person, indicating the shelter where Professor Macquarrie expounded his theories to an audience consisting of his daughter, her companion, Miss Sharp and Lieutenant Bracy. 'We will work.'
'I ain't no gentleman,' said Gedge, feeling that he should be out of place sitting with his betters, and dreading the prospect of listening to the Professor, who could rarely be diverted from his flow of dry and dusty words. 'I'm a working man, I don't mind a bit of honest work.'
'Englishman,' said the foreman in annoyance. 'Go and rest.' He turned away and paused, his eyes fixed on a point on the hillside Gedge could not quite make out. Rounding on the workers, he cried out in their own tongue, so quickly that Gedge could catch but the injunction to flee. Then the foreman leapt up from the trench, calling out, 'Professor! Professor Macquarrie! Take the women and flee!'
As that gentleman looked about him in confusion, Bracy sprang to his feet, looking about him with a keen and vital glance. 'Why, what is it?' he cried, 'Out with it, man!'
'Sir!' cried Gedge, as the spot on the hillside resolved itself into the form of a dov, creeping nearer and nearer. 'It's a dov come huntin'!'
'Fool!' cried the foreman, flinging the shovel from him and rushing up to seize knives from the astonished cook. He came about, a desperate and furious look upon his dark face, screaming an oath in the Martian tongue. As Gedge looked back he saw a rider, clad in dull clothing fling himself up upon his dov, and two more rise up from the hillside, where their dov had seemed but great, grey stones.
'Three of 'em, sir!' cried Gedge scrambling for his rifle. If he could get off a shot, the riders would never reach the camp. He straightened, having loaded his rifle, and sighted down the barrel, knowing well he must even the odds before the riders came within grasp of the ladies. The dov came on fast, the riders brandishing spears and giving voice to wild ululations. Bracy pulled his revolver from its holster and rushed out, meaning to stand with Gedge and aid in his attempts to defeat the enemy before they should overwhelm their little settlement.
Then, from its position floating in the brightest portion of the sky, a trick that had made it all but impossible to see, an ayit dived, its rider's voice rising and falling in the fearsome war cry that Gedge had previously heard from the forces that had besieged the fortress. He leapt aside as one of the native light javelins thudded down on the spot he had that moment vacated, and the advantage was lost. The warriors of the hill tribes were upon them.
Gedge wiped an arm across his plain and perspiring face before bending once more to his work. His muscles ached in a pleasant manner, letting him feel he had at last exercised in a way that had been denied to him for some days. Beside him, the native labourers worked on, enlarging the trench they had started in the cool before dawn. They spoke little, other than to make disparaging remarks about the Professor and his directions to them. Gedge felt very queer, as if he were a spy in their midst, for he felt sure they were not aware that he could understand more than one or two words of their tongue. 'Oh,' he thought, 'I don't like the way they're so rude about us! But it don't make much sense to have us working in this heat.' As if the workers had some supernatural power to discern his thoughts, at that very moment the native foreman leapt down beside him and seize his shovel.
'Go, rest,' said that person, indicating the shelter where Professor Macquarrie expounded his theories to an audience consisting of his daughter, her companion, Miss Sharp and Lieutenant Bracy. 'We will work.'
'I ain't no gentleman,' said Gedge, feeling that he should be out of place sitting with his betters, and dreading the prospect of listening to the Professor, who could rarely be diverted from his flow of dry and dusty words. 'I'm a working man, I don't mind a bit of honest work.'
'Englishman,' said the foreman in annoyance. 'Go and rest.' He turned away and paused, his eyes fixed on a point on the hillside Gedge could not quite make out. Rounding on the workers, he cried out in their own tongue, so quickly that Gedge could catch but the injunction to flee. Then the foreman leapt up from the trench, calling out, 'Professor! Professor Macquarrie! Take the women and flee!'
As that gentleman looked about him in confusion, Bracy sprang to his feet, looking about him with a keen and vital glance. 'Why, what is it?' he cried, 'Out with it, man!'
'Sir!' cried Gedge, as the spot on the hillside resolved itself into the form of a dov, creeping nearer and nearer. 'It's a dov come huntin'!'
'Fool!' cried the foreman, flinging the shovel from him and rushing up to seize knives from the astonished cook. He came about, a desperate and furious look upon his dark face, screaming an oath in the Martian tongue. As Gedge looked back he saw a rider, clad in dull clothing fling himself up upon his dov, and two more rise up from the hillside, where their dov had seemed but great, grey stones.
'Three of 'em, sir!' cried Gedge scrambling for his rifle. If he could get off a shot, the riders would never reach the camp. He straightened, having loaded his rifle, and sighted down the barrel, knowing well he must even the odds before the riders came within grasp of the ladies. The dov came on fast, the riders brandishing spears and giving voice to wild ululations. Bracy pulled his revolver from its holster and rushed out, meaning to stand with Gedge and aid in his attempts to defeat the enemy before they should overwhelm their little settlement.
Then, from its position floating in the brightest portion of the sky, a trick that had made it all but impossible to see, an ayit dived, its rider's voice rising and falling in the fearsome war cry that Gedge had previously heard from the forces that had besieged the fortress. He leapt aside as one of the native light javelins thudded down on the spot he had that moment vacated, and the advantage was lost. The warriors of the hill tribes were upon them.