large/10361/astoundingstories18_1605_librivox_64kb_mp3/astounding_stories18_14_various_64kb_89
large/10361/astoundingstories18_1605_librivox_64kb_mp3/astounding_stories18_14_various_64kb
English
10361
"Put him down!" Olear spoke into the great pointed ear. "Easy!" Back on his feet, Morones began bellowing at the Mercurians. PUT HIM DOWN ELIAS SPOKE WITH A GREAT POINTED EAR EASY BACK ON HIS FEET MORONES BEGAN BELLOWING AT THE MERCURIANS
now you will see that a Lord of the Green Star is even softer, even weaker--" Morones, in that pitiless grasp, turned his face to the hateful grinning visage above him. In his last extremity he was still angry. "You devil!" Morones shouted. "You may murder me, but they'll get you! They'll get you!" "Who'll get me?" the Plutonian purred silkily, deferring the pleasure of the kill for another moment. Morones was having trouble with his breathing. His red face lolled from side to side, his eyes rolled in agony. Suddenly he saw Olear. Unbelieving, he relaxed. "I'm seein' things!" he breathed. "Who'll get me?" persisted the Plutonian, applying a little more pressure. "The I. F. P.!" Morones gasped. "Well, you little son-of-a-gun!" Olear thought, and then he jumped. He landed a-straddle the neck of the Plutonian, which was almost like forking a horse. One brawny arm seized a horn. The other, with a lightning-swift dart, brought the point of the long service-knife to the pulsing black throat. RIUMPHANTLY IN MERCURIAN YOU SAW ME UNMAKE YOUR OLD FOOL AND NOW YOU WILL SEE THAT A LORD OF THE GREEN STAR IS EVEN SOFTER EVEN WEAKER MORINES IN THAT PITILESS GRASP TURNED HIS FACE TO THE HATEFUL GRINNING VISAGE ABOVE HIM IN HIS LAST EXTREMITY HE WAS STILL ANGRY YOU DEVIL MORIN SHOUTED YOU MAY MURDER ME BUT THEY'LL GET YOU THEY'LL GET YOU WHO GET ME SAID THE PLUTONIUM BIRD SILKILY DEFERRING THE PLEASURE OF THE KILL FOR ANOTHER MOMENT MORIN'S WAS HAVING TROUBLE WITH HIS BREATHING HIS RED FACE LOLLED FROM SIDE TO SIDE HIS EYES ROLLED IN AGONY SUDDENLY HE SAW OILER UNBELIEVINGLY HE RELAXED I'M SEEING THINGS HE BREATHED WHO'LL GET ME PERSISTED THE PLUTONIAN APPLYING A LITTLE MORE PRESSURE THE I F P MORIN SCOSSED WELL YOU LITTLE SON OF A GUN ALIER THOUGHT AND THEN HE JUMPED HE LANDED ASTRADDLE THE NECK OF THE PUTONIUM WHICH ALMOST LIKE FORKING A HORSE ONE BRAWNING ARM SEIZED A HORN THE OTHER WITH A LIGHTNING SWIFT DART BROUGHT THE POINT OF THE LONG SERVICE KNIFE TO THE PULSING BLACK THROAT
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