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Cosmic Tales, v. 2, issue 1, Summer 1939

Page 32

32 COSMIC TALES 

ignored him, which wasn't unusual. 
Early in March, Speer was on the move again, taking with him an extra llama loaded with camera plates (The bloody things come out positive !" he had moaned, and, "They're on metal plates; you couldn't use them for negatives anyway," Wilson had pointed out), blank phonograph discs, papyrus, and other equipment. First to the north woods to gather samples of some of the valuable flora and fauna, take photographs, and make recordings, then down along the boundary of the Mississippi to cut across to the Southwestern country, and thence down thru the lower Americas, gathering records, pictorial and auditory, and samples, all along the way, and incidentally adjusting the machinery of government and commerce here and there. The benefits of civilization were not yet producing many of the curses, and he found the people in general very willing to accept the rule of the empire. Back then, along the other ocean, and to the city at the junction of the creeks, where he set about selecting from his vast store of records and specimens, and making up packs to lead on two llamas. 
And so it passed that on a night in May (all three of them were under the impression that the agreement had been to meet in Manhattan on the summer solstice in June, instead of the spring equinox!), Speer relaxed for a moment in a pneumatic easy chair and inquired of McPhail, "So you all just aren't going to be able to get away, eh?"
"No, Jack," was the answer, "Wilson's got a couple hundred new projects on the fire, and adding more all the time; but he doesn't have  a bit of executive ability-- if I left, the whole thing would fall to pieces. You can be spared -"
"Thanks for the compliment."
"-- so you take all those evidences of what we've done and show them to the guys, and tell them all about what we've done out here. And for Christ's sake, find out how they've made out and come back and tell us."
Just as the sun pushed over the hills to eastward, the hooves of Speer's mount and the two pack-llamas clattered over the wood-and-iron bridge that spanned Cow Creek, and the little cavalcade took the road for Manhattan. 

End of part V

The Moon Artist 
(con't from page 25)
nervous It may have been an optical illusion, but to me the woman seemed to be smiling, and there was a red smear around her mouth."
"Blood?"
"I do not know. Perhaps it was paint. I burned the picture."
THE END

SWORDSIGN OF EARS
(con't from page 10)
in the branch of a gnarled purple tree. 
"Don't let them get me," he begged hysterically. 
Down the trail the three scissorbills waddled, their yellow heads giggling mischievously.
Ace Harkins, a lean, hard-bitten, space-wrangler, joined in their mirth. 
"Oh, my gosh, this is good!" he burbled.
"The scissorbills got him!" roared HIghpockets appreciatively.
"Come on, Fatty," called Ace mockingly. "Party's over. Those scissorbills won't eat meat. They are strictly vegetarian"
Fatty Hammond insisted that he had narrowly averted death, even after they had gotten him safely back in the spacer. 
"I was giving them a break," he said, smoothing over his humiliation. "I faced them with a sword. In this weak gravity, I thot I could out-jump them."
Ace and Highpockets were eating synthetic food, but at this, they looked significantly at each other, and burst out laughing 
(con't on pg 40)

Saving...

32 COSMIC TALES ignored him, which wasn't unusual. Early in March, Speer was on the move again, taking with him an extra llama loaded with camera plates (The bloody things come out positive !" he had moaned, and, "They're on metal plates; you couldn't use them for negatives anyway," Wilson had pointed out), blank phonograph discs, papyrus, and other equipment. First to the north woods to gather samples of some of the valuable flora and fauna, take photographs, and make recordings, then down along the boundary of the Mississippi to cut across to the Southwestern country, and thence down thru the lower Americas, gathering records, pictorial and auditory, and samples, all along the way, and incidentally adjusting the machinery of government and commerce here and there. The benefits of civilization were not yet producing many of the curses, and he found the people in general very willing to accept the rule of the empire. Back then, along the other ocean, and to the city at the junction of the creeks, where he set about selecting from his vast store of records and specimens, and making up packs to lead on two llamas. And so it passed that on a night in May (all three of them were under the impression that the agreement had been to meet in Manhattan on the summer solstice in June, instead of the spring equinox!), Speer relaxed for a moment in a pneumatic easy chair and inquired of McPhail, "So you all just aren't going to be able to get away, eh?" "No, Jack," was the answer, "Wilson's got a couple hundred new projects on the fire, and adding more all the time; but he doesn't have a bit of executive ability-- if I left, the whole thing would fall to pieces. You can be spared -" "Thanks for the compliment." "-- so you take all those evidences of what we've done and show them to the guys, and tell them all about what we've done out here. And for Christ's sake, find out how they've made out and come back and tell us." Just as the sun pushed over the hills to eastward, the hooves of Speer's mount and the two pack-llamas clattered over the wood-and-iron bridge that spanned Cow Creek, and the little cavalcade took the road for Manhattan. End of part V The Moon Artist (con't from page 25) nervous It may have been an optical illusion, but to me the woman seemed to be smiling, and there was a red smear around her mouth." "Blood?" "I do not know. Perhaps it was paint. I burned the picture." THE END SWORDSIGN OF EARS (con't from page 10) in the branch of a gnarled purple tree. "Don't let them get me," he begged hysterically. Down the trail the three scissorbills waddled, their yellow heads giggling mischievously. Ace Harkins, a lean, hard-bitten, space-wrangler, joined in their mirth. "Oh, my gosh, this is good!" he burbled. "The scissorbills got him!" roared HIghpockets appreciatively. "Come on, Fatty," called Ace mockingly. "Party's over. Those scissorbills won't eat meat. They are strictly vegetarian" Fatty Hammond insisted that he had narrowly averted death, even after they had gotten him safely back in the spacer. "I was giving them a break," he said, smoothing over his humiliation. "I faced them with a sword. In this weak gravity, I thot I could out-jump them." Ace and Highpockets were eating synthetic food, but at this, they looked significantly at each other, and burst out laughing (con't on pg 40)