when the sleeper wakes-第48部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



thought　before。　An　aeroplane　is　a　clumsy　thing。

A　resolute　man！〃



〃Butnever　since　flying　began〃　cried　the　man

in　yellow。



〃There　has　been　no　need。　But　now　the　time　has

come。　Tell　them　nowsend　them　my　messageto

put　it　upon　the　guides。〃



The　old　man　dumbly　interrogated　the　man　in　yellow；　

nodded；　and　hurried　out。



Helen　made　a　step　towards　Graham。　Her　face　was

white。〃　ButHow　can　one　fight？　You　will　be

killed。〃



〃Perhaps。　Yet；　not　to　do　itor　to　let　someone

else　attempt　it。〃



He　stopped；　he　could　speak　no　more；　he　swept　the

alternative　aside　by　a　gesture；　and　they　stood　looking

at　one　another。



〃You　are　right；〃　she　said　at　last　in　a　low　tone。

〃You　are　right。　If　it　can　be　done。　。　。

must　go。〃



Those　days　for

not　altogether



He　moved　a　step　towards　her；　and　she　stepped　back；

her　white　face　struggled　against　him　and　resisted　him。

〃No；〃　she　gasped。　〃I　cannot　bear。　Go　now。〃



He　extended　his　hands　stupidly。　She　clenched　her

fists。　〃Go　now；〃　she　cried。　〃Go　now。〃



He　hesitated　and　understood。　He　threw　his　hands

up　in　a　queer　half…theatrical　gesture。　He　had　no　word

to　say。　He　turned　from　her。



The　man　in　yellow　moved　towards　the　door　with

clumsy　belated　tact。　But　Graham　stepped　past　him。

He　went　striding　through　the　room　where　the　Ward

Leader　bawled　at　a　telephone　directing　that　the　aeropile

should　be　put　upon　the　guides。



The　man　in　yellow　glanced　at　Helen's　still　figure；

hesitated　and　hurried　after　him。　Graham　did　not　once

look　back；　he　did　not　speak　until　the　curtain　of　the

ante…chamber　of　the　great　hall　fell　behind　him。　Then

he　turned　his　head　with　curt　swift　directions　upon　his

bloodless　lips。



CHAPTER　XIV



THE　COMING　OF　THE　AEROPLANES



Two　men　in　pale　blue　were　Iying　in　the　irregular

line　that　stretched　along　the　edge　of　the　captured　

Roehampton　stage　from　end　to　end；　grasping　their　

carbines　and　peering　into　the　shadows　of　the　stage　called

Wimbledon　Park。　Now　and　then　they　spoke　to　one

another。　They　spoke　the　mutilated　English　of　their

class　and　period。　The　fire　of　the　Ostrogites　had

dwindled　and　ceased；　and　few　of　the　enemy　had　been

seen　for　some　time。　But　the　echoes　of　the　fight　that

was　going　on　now　far　below　in　the　lower　galleries　of

that　stage；　came　every　now　and　then　between　the

staccato　of　shots　from　the　popular　side。　One　of　these

men　was　describing　to　the　other　how　he　had　seen　a

man　down　below　there　dodge　behind　a　girder；　and　had

aimed　at　a　guess　and　hit　him　cleanly　as　he　dodged　too

far　〃He's　down　there　still；〃　said　the　marksman。

〃See　that　little　patch。　Yes。　Between　those　bars。〃

A　few　yards　behind　them　lay　a　dead　stranger；　face

upward　to　the　sky；　with　the　blue　canvas　of　his　jacket

smoldering　in　a　circle　about　the　neat　bullet　hole　on

his　chest。　Close　beside　him　a　wounded　man；　with　a

leg　swathed　about；　sat　with　an　expressionless　face　and

watched　the　progress　of　that　burning。　Gigantic　behind

them；　athwart　the　carrier　lay　the　captured　aeropile。



〃I　can't　see　him　now；〃　said　the　second　man　in　a　ton

of　provocation。



The　marksman　became　foul…mouthed　and　high…

voiced　in　his　earnest　endeavour　to　make　things　plain

And　suddenly；　interrupting　him；　came　a　noisy　

shouting　from　the　substage。



〃What's　going　on　now；〃　he　said；　and　raised　himself

on　one　arm　to　stare　at　the　stairheads　in　the　central

groove　of　the　stage。　A　number　of　blue　figures　were

coming　up　these；　and　swarming　across　the　stage　to　the

aeropile。



〃We　don't　want　all　these　fools；〃　said　his　friend。

〃They　only　crowd　up　and　spoil　shots。　What　are　they

after？　〃



〃Ssh！they're　shouting　something。〃



The　two　men　listened。　The　swarming　new…comers

had　crowded　densely　about　the　aeropile。　Three　Ward

Leaders；　conspicuous　by　their　black　mantles　and

badges；　clambered　into　the　body　and　appeared　above

it。　The　rank　and　file　flung　themselves　upon　the　vans；

gripping　hold　of　the　edges；　until　the　entire　outline　of

the　thing　was　manned；　in　some　places　three　deep。　One

of　the　marksmen　knelt　up。　〃They're　putting　it　on　the

carrierthat's　what　they're　after。〃



He　rose　to　his　feet；　his　friend　rose　also。　〃What's

the　good？　〃　said　his　friend。　〃We've　got　no　aeronauts。〃



〃That's　what　they're　doing　anyhow。〃　He　looked　at

his　rifle；　looked　at　the　struggling　crowd；　and　suddenly

turning　to　the　wounded　man。　〃Mind　these；　mate；〃　he

said；　handing　his　carbine　and　cartridge　belt；　and　in　a

moment　he　was　running　towards　the　aeropile。　For　a

quarter　of　an　hour　he　was　a　perspiring　Titan；　lugging；

thrusting；　shouting　and　heeding　shouts；　and　then　the

thing　was　done；　and　he　stood　with　a　multitude　of

others　cheering　their　own　achievement。　By　this　time

he　knew；　what　indeed　everyone　in　the　city　knew；　that

the　Master；　raw　learner　though　he　was；　intended　to　fly

this　machine　himself；　was　coming　even　now　to　take

control　of　it；　would　let　no　other　man　attempt　it。　〃He

who　takes　the　greatest　danger；　he　who　bears　the

heaviest　burden；　that　man　is　King；〃　so　the　Master

was　reported　to　have　spoken。　And　even　as　this

man　cheered；　and　while　the　beads　of　sweat　still

chased　one　another　from　the　disorder　of　his　hair；　he

heard　the　thunder　of　a　greater　tumult；　and　in　fitful

snatches　the　beat　and　impulse　of　the　revolutionary

song。　He　saw　through　a　gap　in　the　people　that　a　thick

stream　of　heads　still　poured　up　the　stairway。　〃The

Master　is　coming；〃　shouted　voices；　〃the　Master　is

coming；〃　and　the　crowd　about　him　grew　denser　and

denser。　He　began　to　thrust　himself　towards　the　

central　groove。　〃The　Master　is　coming！〃　〃The　Sleeper；

the　Master！〃　〃God　and　the　Master！〃　roared　the

Voices。



And　suddenly　quite　close　to　him　were　the　black　uniforms　o

f　the　revolutionary　guard；　and　for　the　first　and

last　time　in　his　life　he　saw　Graham；　saw　him　quite

nearly。　A　tall；　dark　man　in　a　flowing　black　robe；　with

a　white；　resolute　face　and　eyes　fixed　steadfastly　before

him；　a　man　who　for　all　the　little　things　about　him

held　neither　ears　nor　eyes　nor　thoughts。　。　。　。　For

all　his　days　that　man　remembered　the　passing　of　

Graham's　bloodless　face。　In　a　moment　it　had　gone　and

he　was　fighting　in　the　swaying　crowd。　A　lad　weeping　

with　terror　thrust　against　him；　pressing　towards

the　stairways；　yelling　〃Clear　for　the　aeropile！〃　The

bell　that　clears　the　flying　stage　became　a　loud　

unmelodious　clanging。



With　that　clanging　in　his　ears　Graham　drew　near

the　aeropile；　marched　into　the　shadow　of　its　tilting

wing。　He　became　aware　that　a　number　of　people

about　him　were　offering　to　accompany　him；　and　waved

their　offers　aside。　He　wanted　to　think　how　one

started　the　engine。　The　bell　clanged　faster　and　faster；

and　the　feet　of　the　retreating　people　roared　faster　and

louder。　The　man　in　yellow　was　assisting　him　to　mount

through　the　ribs　of　the　body。　He　clambered　into　the

aeronaut's　place；　fixing　himself　very　carefully　and

deliberately。　What　was　it？　The　man　in　yellow　was

pointing　to　two　aeropiles　driving　upward　in　the　

southern　sky。　No　doubt　they　were　looking　for　the　coming

aeroplanes。　Thatpresentlythe　thing　to　do　now

was　to　start。　Things　were　being　shouted　at　him；　

questions；　warnings。　They　bothered　him。　He　wanted　to

think　about　the　aeropile；　to　recall　every　item　of　his

previous　experience。　He　waved　the　people　from　him；

saw　the　man　in　yellow　dropping　off　through　the　ribs；

saw　the　crowd　cleft　down　the　line　of　the　girders　by　his

gesture。



For　a　moment　he　was　motionless；　staring　at　the

levers；　the　wheel　by　which　the　engine　shifted；　and　all

the　delicate　appliances　of　which　he　knew　so　little。　His

eye　caught　a　spirit　level　with　the　bubble　towards　him；

and　he　remembered　something；　spent　a　dozen　seconds

in　swinging　the　engine　forward　until　the　bubble　floated

in　the　centre　of　the　tube。　He　noted　that　the　people

were　not　shouting；　knew　they　watched　his　deliberation。

A　bullet　smashed　on　the　bar　above　his　head。　Who

fired？　Was　the　line　clear　of　people？　He　stood　up　to

see　and　sat　down　again。



In　another　second　the　propeller　was　spinning；　and

he　was　rushing　down　the　guides。　He　gripped　the

wheel　and　swung　the　engine　back　to　lift　the　stem。

Then　it　was　the　people　shouted。　In　a　moment　he　was

throbbing　with　the　quiver　of　the　engine；　and　the　shouts

dwindled　swiftly　behind；　rushed　down　to　silence。

The　wind　whistled　over　the　edges　of　the　screen；　and

the　world　sank　away　from　him　very　swiftly。



Throb；　throb；　throbthrob；　throb；　throb；　up　he

drove。　He　fancied　himself　free　of　all　excitement；　felt

cool　and　deliberate。　He　lifted　the　stem　still　more；

opened　one　valve　on　his　left　wing　and　swept　round　and

up。　He　looked　down　with　a　steady　head；　and　up。　One

of　the　Ostrogite　aeropiles　was　driving　across　his　course；

so　that　he　drove　obliquely　towards　it　and　would　pass

below　it　at　a　steep　angle。　Its　little　aeronauts　were

peering　down　at　him。　What　did　they　mean　to　do？

His　mind　became　active。　One；　he　saw　held　a　weapon

pointing；　seemed　prepared　to　fire。　What　did　they

think　he　meant　to　do？　In　a　moment　he　understood

their　tactics；　and　his　resolution　was　taken。　His

momentary　lethargy　was　past。　He　opened　two　more

valves　to　his　left；　swung　round；　end　on　to　this　hostile

machine；　closed　his　valves；　and　shot　straight　at　it；　stem

and　wind…screen　shielding　him　from　the　shot。　They

tilted　a　little　as　if　to　clear　him。　He　flung　up　his　stem。



Throb；　throb；　throbpausethrob；　throb

he　set　his　teeth；　his　face　into　an　involuntary　grimace；

and　crash！　He　struck　it！　He　struck　upward　beneath

the　nearer　wing。



Very　slowly　the　wing　of　his　antagonist　seemed　to

broaden　as　the　impetus　of　his　blow　turned　it　up。　He

saw　the　full　breadth　of　it　and　then　it　slid　downward　out

of　his　sight。



He　felt　his　stem　going　down；　his　hands　tightened　on

the　levers；　whirled　and　rammed　the　engine　back。　He

felt　the　jerk　of　a　clearance；　the　nose　of　the　machine

jerked　upward　steeply；　and　for　a　moment　he　seemed

to　be　Iyin