paused only long enough to let Lela get in ahead of him and then he was inside.
"You get the ship into the air," he whispered. "I'll hold them off here." He wasn't sure just what he would do against guns but he had a vague notion that it was important to keep the door open until the ship was actually rising into the air.
There was a prolonged pause and then: the ship tugged slightly under him. Cargill held his breath, counting the seconds as the floater drifted upward.
Presently, with shaking fingers, he closed the door and called to Lela, "Can you turn off the lights?"
There was silence, then darkness. Cautiously Cargill opened the door again and carefully he peered out. The top of a tree glided by, only inches below. The slow way in which it passed from sight emphasized that the speed of these light-powered ships at night was negligible.
Lela's voice came faintly from forward. "I'm trying to get her out over the river. There'll be more light there. Anybody following?"
Cargill couldn't be sure. He was looking down slantingly at a camp that was slowly coming to life. Even that minimum activity was fairly well hidden behind dense foliage. He saw splashes of light and there was the sound of excited voices. But if any ship rose up to follow them during those first minutes Cargill did not see it.
Under him the machine seemed to quicken its pace. He looked down and saw that they were over the river. And now he could understand Lela's purpose. The water was alive with light reflections. He estimated that they were traveling at least ten miles an hour.
The camp slowly vanished behind a bend in the river. When he could no longer see it, he closed the door and headed for the all-room. It was somewhat larger than the similar room in the Bouvy’s ship but it was functionally the same. He glanced into the control room.
Lela was in the control chair. She did not look at him Cargill hesitated, then went back to the door. He opened it and spent the next hour gazing into the night. The moon came up while he sat there and the ship accelerated perceptibly. They were still only a few feet above the forest.
8
The minister listened with a scowl to Cargill's objections. He was a big, grim man, and his problem must have been to understand what Cargill was trying to say. His scowl transferred abruptly into an expression of astounded fury. "Well, I'll be darned," he said. "A Tweener trying to get out of marrying one of our girls—" Without warning, he launched a ham-like fist at Cargill's head.
Cargill ducked just in time to avoid the full impact of the blow. The huge fist seared along his cheek and sent him staggering across the room.
He came back, with narrowed eyes, body crouching low for the attack. From his left, Lela said sharply, "I'll sting your foot with this spitter. I'll burn you so you won't ever walk again. Don't you go starting a fight now. "
The threat stopped Cargill. He had a tense conviction that Lela might actually have an impulse to lame him anyway. Then he'd never be able to get away.
"Sadie!" bellowed the minister. It was like a cue. A small woman catapulted through the door and came up breathlessly.
"Yes, Henry," she said.
"Watch this Tweener scum," he said, " while Miss Lela and I"—he smiled knowingly—"make the arrangements. These forced Tweener weddings cost a little extra, you know." He and Lela went out of the room.
Cargill walked over to the window. Through the glass he could see the floater that had belonged to Carmean. It was less than a hundred feet away. "If I could get inside it," he thought, "I could be away from here in ten seconds." Unfortunately, Lela had taken the precaution of locking the door of the floater. He grew aware that the small woman had edged up beside him.
"I know something," she said in a loud whisper.
Cargill glanced at her, repelled by the avaricious look on her face and in her narrowed eyes. He said nothing.
Once more, the woman whispered hoarsely, "I heard the news on
"You get the ship into the air," he whispered. "I'll hold them off here." He wasn't sure just what he would do against guns but he had a vague notion that it was important to keep the door open until the ship was actually rising into the air.
There was a prolonged pause and then: the ship tugged slightly under him. Cargill held his breath, counting the seconds as the floater drifted upward.
Presently, with shaking fingers, he closed the door and called to Lela, "Can you turn off the lights?"
There was silence, then darkness. Cautiously Cargill opened the door again and carefully he peered out. The top of a tree glided by, only inches below. The slow way in which it passed from sight emphasized that the speed of these light-powered ships at night was negligible.
Lela's voice came faintly from forward. "I'm trying to get her out over the river. There'll be more light there. Anybody following?"
Cargill couldn't be sure. He was looking down slantingly at a camp that was slowly coming to life. Even that minimum activity was fairly well hidden behind dense foliage. He saw splashes of light and there was the sound of excited voices. But if any ship rose up to follow them during those first minutes Cargill did not see it.
Under him the machine seemed to quicken its pace. He looked down and saw that they were over the river. And now he could understand Lela's purpose. The water was alive with light reflections. He estimated that they were traveling at least ten miles an hour.
The camp slowly vanished behind a bend in the river. When he could no longer see it, he closed the door and headed for the all-room. It was somewhat larger than the similar room in the Bouvy’s ship but it was functionally the same. He glanced into the control room.
Lela was in the control chair. She did not look at him Cargill hesitated, then went back to the door. He opened it and spent the next hour gazing into the night. The moon came up while he sat there and the ship accelerated perceptibly. They were still only a few feet above the forest.
8
The minister listened with a scowl to Cargill's objections. He was a big, grim man, and his problem must have been to understand what Cargill was trying to say. His scowl transferred abruptly into an expression of astounded fury. "Well, I'll be darned," he said. "A Tweener trying to get out of marrying one of our girls—" Without warning, he launched a ham-like fist at Cargill's head.
Cargill ducked just in time to avoid the full impact of the blow. The huge fist seared along his cheek and sent him staggering across the room.
He came back, with narrowed eyes, body crouching low for the attack. From his left, Lela said sharply, "I'll sting your foot with this spitter. I'll burn you so you won't ever walk again. Don't you go starting a fight now. "
The threat stopped Cargill. He had a tense conviction that Lela might actually have an impulse to lame him anyway. Then he'd never be able to get away.
"Sadie!" bellowed the minister. It was like a cue. A small woman catapulted through the door and came up breathlessly.
"Yes, Henry," she said.
"Watch this Tweener scum," he said, " while Miss Lela and I"—he smiled knowingly—"make the arrangements. These forced Tweener weddings cost a little extra, you know." He and Lela went out of the room.
Cargill walked over to the window. Through the glass he could see the floater that had belonged to Carmean. It was less than a hundred feet away. "If I could get inside it," he thought, "I could be away from here in ten seconds." Unfortunately, Lela had taken the precaution of locking the door of the floater. He grew aware that the small woman had edged up beside him.
"I know something," she said in a loud whisper.
Cargill glanced at her, repelled by the avaricious look on her face and in her narrowed eyes. He said nothing.
Once more, the woman whispered hoarsely, "I heard the news on
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