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way again and strode forward, the robe swirling irritatingly away from my
trousered legs. The colors in my Argyle socks seemed to fascinate every eye. I was
as exotically garbed as if I wore velvet and brocade on a New York street.
The crowd seemed helpless before the double charm of my socks and my
astounding knowledge of mechanics. I heard awed murmurs about the little
wheel sparking as I pushed through the fringe of my admirers and went hastily
on toward the Temple.
It should have ended there. Probably it would have, nine times out of ten. But this
was the tenth time. I went about fifteen feet, then glanced uneasily back and
they were following me. Timidly, respectfully, but determined as so many pet
dogs that have no intention whatever of going home, no matter how often you
shout at them.
For a moment or two I did shout. I waved them back and told them sternly to
leave me alone, to go back about then-
business. They looked at .me, scared but stubborn. What had become of my
escort I had no idea. Maybe they, too, were among this irresistibly fascinated
throng. Maybe they were watching from the sidelines. Anyhow, they did nothing
to help.
I kept at it until I began to feel too much like a man trying to send his dog home. I
had difficulty keeping my face straight. There was nothing to do but turn away
and ignore them, which I did. Like a pied piper in Argyle socks I stalked down the
Malescan street, hearing the rising murmur behind me as more and more curious
bystanders joined my following throng. The saga of the little wheel was on every
tongue. The sparks it shot out acquired fresh fame with every step I took.
Then it got worse. I heard someone say distinctly, "He's leading us to the Temple.
He's going to teach us all how to make fire jump out of the little wheel."
I whirled angrily. Whoever had spoken was silent now. The eyes of my followers
met mine eagerly. And what could I do? Shouts hadn't moved them. Denials
wouldn't either. This was sheer determined wishful thinking. It was already
bigger than I was and growing every minute. The starvation of the human mind,
denied process, was a thing I couldn't cope with.
Suddenly I felt sorry for them. And I was aware of a quick, increasing respect. For
all they knew the squads of the Temple guard might swoop down at any moment
and arrest them all. And yet they followed, hypnotized by the glimpse they'd had
of a machine openly used in the street, where every eye could see and every mind
understand how it worked.
So I went on. The rumors spread. They caught up with me and began to run
ahead and they were fantastic. I was going to teach all Malesco how every miracle
in the city was performed. I was going to overthrow the Hierarch and administer
the Alchemic Mysteries myself.
No, I was hand in glove with the Hierarch and leading them all to their doom.
This latter rumor had no effect whatever. Curiosity was stronger now than fear
and anyhow this crowd was getting too big to punish. Each man took courage
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from the number of his neighbors.
By the time I reached the great square in front of the Temple the murmuring of
my followers had swelled into a low insistent roar. Nobody was shouting. Nobody
was really talking loudly.
But the combined voices had their own volume, and there was irresistible
excitement in it.
I saw the astonished faces of priests looking out of the gate and peering over the
painted walls. There were faces at every window on this side of the Temple, and
in the houses we passed women and children peered out with timid exultation,
and men came from every doorway to join our throng.
I crossed the big flood-lighted square slowly, in spite of myself feeing very
important. Common sense told me that I had done nothing very superlative after
all but the awed admiration of the crowd was insidious. It came to me irresistibly
how much more I knew than they did, how deeply they admired me for my
wisdom also, perhaps, for my socks.
I expect I strutted a little. It isn't every man who inspires thousands of people to
follow him, helpless to resist as the children who followed the pied piper,
hypnotized by his ability to spin a small wheel and strike sparks with it. It isn't
every man who
Suddenly it came to me what I was doing. I stopped dead still for a second. I was
a hero! I was indubitably leading a vast crowd of inspired followers, obedient to
my every whim. I was advancing on the stronghold of the wicked High Priest who
held the beautiful heroine captive in his toils.
I was on my way to rescue Lorna and force the Hierarch to send us back to Earth
and it was my own skill and knowledge that had made this possible, my own
prowess with a flint and steel. Good heavens, it had happened after all!
"Quartermain, move over!" I murmured to myself and crossed the rest of the
square at a rapid stride. I felt imposingly tall. I thrust my elbows out to make my
cloak billow in the wind. It was a perfect setup. All I lacked was the long,
glittering sword.
True, the cigarette lighter had proved more potent as a weapon, but it lacked a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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