Cat and Mouse Read online

behind him.

  So far, good enough.

  He lashed the gas can solidly to his packboard, slipped the end of thehose into the flexible spout and wired it tight. Then he cut up an oldwool undershirt and wrapped the pieces around miscellaneous junk--oldnuts and bolts, chunks of leadline, anything to make up half a dozenpackages of good throwing heft. He soaked these in oil and stowed themin a musette bag which he snapped to the D-rings of the pack.

  One of the metal plates on his moccasin was hanging by a thread,probably he had torn it loose in the scuffle at the door. They weren'tgoing to take too much kicking and banging around, he could see, andonce he was on his way, it wouldn't be a very good idea to be caughtbending over with his bare hands at ground level to fix them. On theother hand, he couldn't be using all his cartridges on the stingers,either, he had to save them for the carriers. He thought about this somewhile mending the moccasin, and decided to take the bug gun. It mightnot kill the stingers, but it ought to discourage them enough so theywouldn't keep pestering him.

  With his bad left arm, he had trouble getting the pack on his back. Hefinally managed by swinging it up on the table first. It was not toomuch of a load, forty or fifty pounds he guessed. Still, shaky as hewas, it was about as much as he could manage. He had intended to justtry it on for size, but after he got it up he thought: well, why notnow? He picked up the .450, stowed the extra cartridges in his pocket,checked to make sure he had matches, hung the bug gun on his belt, andopened the door.

  * * * * *

  It was just getting dusk, but the other world was in broad daylight, thedays and nights were almost completely reversed again. As he steppedthrough the hole, the first stinger struck. He gave it a good squirt oftobacco juice. It went bucking and twisting off and he went on, steppingcarefully and solidly.

  Luckily, most of the Harn was foraging in the new world. Two morestingers ambushed him, but the tobacco juice got rid of them, and he hadno serious trouble till he got close to the den. Two carriers came outand rushed him there. He shot them both and then killed the stinger thatwas pecking at his shins. He moved quickly now, he had an idea that inabout a minute all hell would break loose. He swung the pack down on theuphill side of the den, wet the musette bag with a quick spray of gas,tossed it over his shoulder, jammed the free end of the hose into theden mouth and stabbed the can with his knife to vent it. As the gaspoured into the den he lit one of his oil and gas soaked bombs and ranaround in front, lighting one after another from the one in his hand andtossing them into the den. The musette bag caught fire and he snatchedit from his shoulder and tossed it after the bombs. A whoof and a sheetof flame blew out.

  About fifty yards away there was a slender, popplelike tree. Ed hadthought if he could make that, he would be reasonably secure while theHarn burned. He ran for it as hard as he could, beating at the flamesthat had spattered on him from the burning gas, but he never made it.

  Harn were erupting everywhere. A carrier suddenly came charging out ofthe brush to his left. While Ed dealt with that one, the Harn played itsace in the hole. The two special units it had been developing to dealwith Ed were not quite done yet, but they were done enough to work forthe few minutes the Harn needed them. Ed heard a coughing grunt behindhim and spun around to see something new crawling out of the flame andsmoke at the den entrance.

  This one was a roughly carrier shaped creature, but half again as large,built for killing. It had powerful fanged jaws and its eight feet werearmed with knifelike, disemboweling claws. As it came at Ed in alumbering rush, another came crawling out after it.

  Ed shot four times, as fast as he could work the action. The heavy slugsdid the job, but not quite well enough. With its dying lunge the thinggot to him and tossed him ten feet like a rag doll. He lit on his badhand and felt the wrist bones go.

  As he struggled to get up, digging his elbow in and using one hand, hesaw a stinger darting in at him. He had lost both the bug gun and hisrifle when the fighting unit swiped him. He swiveled on his hips andkicked the stinger away. Then he saw the second fighting unit coming. Heforgot about the stinger. It still might get to him, but, if it did, itwould be too late to matter.

  He drew his knife, managed to get to one knee, and crouched there likean old gray rat, stubbly lips drawn back from worn teeth in a grin ofpain and rage. This was one he wasn't going to win, he guessed.

  Ten feet away, the fighting unit suddenly ran down like a clockwork toy.It toppled over, skidded past him under its own momentum, and lay therekicking spasmodically. Ed glared at it uncomprehendingly. It arched itsneck back to almost touch its haunches, stiffened, and was still.

  Ed looked around. The stinger was dead too, three feet from hisshoulder, and half a dozen more which had been making for him. A cloudof greasy, stinking smoke was rolling out of the den. The Harn wasdead.

  Ed put his knife away and lay back. He did not quite pass out, butthings got pretty dim.

  After a while he got hold of himself and sat up. He was not toosurprised to see the man in forest green prodding at the bodies of thefighting units. The stranger looked at the smoke still oozing from theden and nodded approvingly. Then he came over and looked at Ed. Heclacked his tongue in concern and bent over, touching Ed's wrist. Ednoticed there was now a cast on it, and it didn't hurt so much. Therewas also a plastic binding around his ribs and shoulder, where the clawsof the first fighter had raked as it tossed him. That was a mighty neattrick, because the rags of his shirt were still buttoned around him, andhe was pretty sure it had not been off at any time.

  The stranger smiled at Ed, patted him on the shoulder, and disappeared.He seemed to be a busy sort of fellow, Ed thought, with not much timefor visiting.

  Ed felt quite a bit better now, enough better to gather up what was leftof his gear and start home. He was glad to find old Tom waiting for himthere. The cat had taken to the woods when the attack on the gate firststarted, he didn't like shooting, and Ed had worried that the Harn mighthave got him.

  * * * * *

  Ed slept till noon the next day, got up and cooked a dozen flapjacks anda pound of bacon. After breakfast, he sat around for an hour or sodrinking coffee. Then he spent the rest of the afternoon putteringaround the cabin.

  He packed away the snakeproof pants, disassembled the flame-thrower,picked up the traps by the hole.

  Old Tom seemed to have pretty well cleaned up the mice under thelean-to. Ed took his shovel and filled in the hole he had dug for thecat to get at them.

  He went to bed early. Tomorrow he would take a long hike around the newworld, scout out the fur and game, plan his trap-line and pick cabinsites.

  The next morning, though, the hole into the other world was gone.

  The posts which had marked it were sheared neatly in half. The remainsof the door still hung there, battered and sagging; but it swung open onnothing but Alaska, when Ed stepped through he found himself standingbeside the old leaning birch.

  He tried it several times before he convinced himself.

  He walked slowly back toward the cabin, feeling old and uncertain, notquite knowing what to do with himself. Old Tom was over by the lean-to,sniffing and pawing tentatively at the fresh earth where Ed had filledin the hole. As Ed came up, he came over to rub against Ed's leg.

  They went into the cabin and Ed started fixing breakfast.

  THE END