Out of Time’s Abyss, by Edgar Rice Burroughs 2/165 | Previous page | Next page |

Out of Time’s Abyss, by Edgar Rice Burroughs


their heads.

About them upon the ground, among the trees and in the air over

them moved and swung and soared the countless forms of Caspak’s

teeming life. Always were they menaced by some frightful thing

and seldom were their rifles cool, yet even in the brief time

they had dwelt upon Caprona they had become callous to danger,

so that they swung along laughing and chatting like soldiers on

a summer hike.

“This reminds me of South Clark Street,” remarked Brady, who had

once served on the traffic squad in Chicago; and as no one asked

him why, he volunteered that it was “because it’s no place for

an Irishman.”

“South Clark Street and heaven have something in common, then,”

suggested Sinclair. James and Tippet laughed, and then a hideous

growl broke from a dense thicket ahead and diverted their

attention to other matters.

“One of them behemoths of ‘Oly Writ,” muttered Tippet as they came

to a halt and with guns ready awaited the almost inevitable charge.

“Hungry lot o’ beggars, these,” said Bradley; “always trying to

Out of Time’s Abyss, by Edgar Rice Burroughs 2/165 | Previous page | Next page |

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