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diff --git a/29432-h/29432-h.htm b/29432-h/29432-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4805069 --- /dev/null +++ b/29432-h/29432-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2042 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Man the Martians Made, by Frank Belknap Long + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,h3 {font-weight: normal;} + h1,h2 {text-align: right; line-height: 2em;} + h3 {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .bk1 {margin: 1em auto 3em; border-top: solid 2px; border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bk2 {float: left; width: 15em; margin: 1em 2em 1em 0;} + .pr1 {line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 3em;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 141px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; clear: both; visibility: hidden;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Man the Martians Made, by Frank Belknap Long + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Man the Martians Made + +Author: Frank Belknap Long + +Release Date: July 17, 2009 [EBook #29432] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN THE MARTIANS MADE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><p><i><small>If Frank Belknap Long is not one of the deans of science fiction writers, +there can certainly be no dispute that he is high on the faculty board. +His pen is indefatigable, it seems, and his characters come alive as with +few other writers. We're sure you'll like this new suspenseful tale of his.</small></i></p></div> + +<div class="bk2"><h1><b>the<br /> +man<br /> +the<br /> +martians<br /> +made</b></h1> + +<h2><small><i>by ... Frank Belknap Long</i></small></h2> + +<p class="pr1"><big><b>No mortal had ever seen the Martians, but they had heard their +whisperings—without knowing the terrible secret they kept hidden.</b></big></p></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="smcap">There was death</span> in the camp.</p> + +<p>I knew when I awoke that it +had come to stand with us in the +night and was waiting now for +the day to break and flood the +desert with light. There was a +prickling at the base of my scalp +and I was drenched with cold +sweat.</p> + +<p>I had an impulse to leap up and +go stumbling about in the darkness. +But I disciplined myself. +I crossed my arms and waited for +the sky to grow bright.</p> + +<p>Daybreak on Mars is like nothing +you've ever dreamed about. +You wake up in the morning, and +there it is—bright and clear and +shining. You pinch yourself, you +sit up straight, but it doesn't +vanish.</p> + +<p>Then you stare at your hands +with the big callouses. You reach +for a mirror to take a look at your +face. That's not so good. That's +where ugliness enters the picture. +You look around and you see +Ralph. You see Harry. You see +the women.</p> + +<p>On Earth a woman may not +look her glamorous best in the +harsh light of early dawn, but if +she's really beautiful she doesn't +look too bad. On Mars even the +most beautiful woman looks angry +on arising, too weary and tormented +by human shortcomings to +take a prefabricated metal shack +and turn it into a real home for a +man.</p> + +<p>You have to make allowances +for a lot of things on Mars. You +have to start right off by accepting +hardship and privation as your +daily lot. You have to get accustomed +to living in construction +camps in the desert, with the red +dust making you feel all hollow +and dried up inside. Making you +feel like a drum, a shriveled pea +pod, a salted fish hung up to dry. +Dust inside of you, rattling +around, canal water seepage rotting +the soles of your boots.</p> + +<p>So you wake up and you stare. +The night before you'd collected +driftwood and stacked it by the +fire. The driftwood has disappeared. +Someone has stolen your +very precious driftwood. The +Martians? Guess again.</p> + +<p>You get up and you walk +straight up to Ralph with your +shoulders squared. You say, +"Ralph, why in hell did you have +to steal my driftwood?"</p> + +<p>In your mind you say that. +You say it to Dick, you say it to +Harry. But what you really say is, +"Larsen was here again last +night!"</p> + +<p>You say, I put a fish on to boil +and Larsen ate it. I had a nice +deck of cards, all shiny and new, +and Larsen marked them up. It +wasn't me cheating. It was Larsen +hoping I'd win so that he could +waylay me in the desert and get +all of the money away from me.</p> + +<p>You have a girl. There aren't +too many girls in the camps with +laughter and light and fire in +them. But there are a few, and +if you're lucky you take a fancy +to one particular girl—her full +red lips and her spun gold hair. +All of a sudden she disappears. +Somebody runs off with her. It's +Larsen.</p> + +<p>In every man there is a +slumbering giant. When life roars +about you on a world that's +rugged and new you've got to go +on respecting the lads who have +thrown in their lot with you, even +when their impulses are as harsh +as the glint of sunlight on a desert-polished +tombstone.</p> + +<p>You think of a name—Larsen. +You start from scratch and you +build Larsen up until you have a +clear picture of him in your mind. +You build him up until he's a +great shouting, brawling, golden +man like Paul Bunyon.</p> + +<p>Even a wicked legend can seem +golden on Mars. Larsen wasn't +just my slumbering giant—or +Dick's, or Harry's. He was the +slumbering giant in all of us, and +that's what made him so tremendous. +Anything gigantic has +beauty and power and drive to it.</p> + +<p>Alone we couldn't do anything +with Larsen's gusto, so when some +great act of wickedness was done +with gusto how could it be us? +Here comes Larsen! He'll shoulder +all the guilt, but he won't feel +guilty because he's the first man +in Eden, the child who never +grew up, the laughing boy, Hercules +balancing the world on his +shoulders and looking for a +woman with long shining tresses +and eyes like the stars of heaven +to bend to his will.</p> + +<p>If such a woman came to life in +Hercules' arms would you like the +job of stopping him from sending +the world crashing? Would you +care to try?</p> + +<p>Don't you see? Larsen was +closer to us than breathing and +as necessary as food and drink +and our dreams of a brighter tomorrow. +Don't think we didn't +hate him at times. Don't think +we didn't curse and revile him. +You may glorify a legend from +here to eternity, but the luster +never remains completely untarnished.</p> + +<p>Larsen wouldn't have seemed +completely real to us if we hadn't +given him muscles that could tire +and eyes that could blink shut in +weariness. Larsen had to sleep, +just as we did. He'd disappear for +days.</p> + +<p>We'd wink and say, "Larsen's +getting a good long rest this time. +But he'll be back with something +new up his sleeve, don't you +worry!"</p> + +<p>We could joke about it, sure. +When Larsen stole or cheated we +could pretend we were playing a +game with loaded dice—not really +a deadly game, but a game full of +sound and fury with a great rousing +outburst of merriment at the +end of it.</p> + +<p>But there are deadlier games by +far. I lay motionless, my arms +locked across my chest, sweating +from every pore. I stared at +Harry. We'd been working all +night digging a well, and in a few +days water would be bubbling up +sweet and cool and we wouldn't +have to go to the canal to fill +our cooking utensils. Harry was +blinking and stirring and I could +tell just by looking at him that +he was uneasy too. I looked beyond +him at the circle of shacks.</p> + +<p>Most of us were sleeping in the +open, but there were a few youngsters +in the shacks and women too +worn out with drudgery to care +much whether they slept in +smothering darkness or under the +clear cold light of the stars.</p> + +<p>I got slowly to my knees, +scooped up a handful of sand, and +let it dribble slowly through my +fingers. Harry looked straight at +me and his eyes widened in alarm. +It must have been the look on my +face. He arose and crossed to +where I was sitting, his mouth +twitching slightly. There was +nothing very reassuring about +Harry. Life had not been kind to +him and he had resigned himself +to accepting the slings and arrows +of outrageous fortune without protest. +He had one of those +emaciated, almost skull-like faces +which terrify children, and make +women want to cry.</p> + +<p>"You don't look well, Tom," he +said. "You've been driving yourself +too hard."</p> + +<p>I looked away quickly. I had +to tell him, but anything terrifying +could demoralize Harry and +make him throw his arm before +his face in blind panic. But I +couldn't keep it locked up inside +me an instant longer.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Harry," I whispered. +"I want to talk to you. No sense +in waking the others."</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said.</p> + +<p>He squatted beside me on the +sand, his eyes searching my face. +"What is it, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"I heard a scream," I said. "It +was pretty awful. Somebody has +been hurt—bad. It woke me up, +and that takes some doing."</p> + +<p>Harry nodded. "You sleep like +a log," he said.</p> + +<p>"I just lay still and listened," I +said, "with my eyes wide open. +Something moved out from the +well—a two-legged something. It +didn't make a sound. It was big, +Harry, and it seemed to melt into +the shadows. I don't know what +kept me from leaping up and +going after it. It had something +to do with the way I felt. All +frozen up inside."</p> + +<p>Harry appeared to understand. +He nodded, his eyes darting +toward the well. "How long ago +was that?"</p> + +<p>"Ten—fifteen minutes."</p> + +<p>"You just waited for me to +wake up?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," I said. "There +was something about the scream +that made me want to put off finding +out. Two's company—and +when you're alone with something +like that it's best to talk it over +before you act."</p> + +<p>I could see that Harry was +pleased. Unnerved too, and horribly +shaken. But he was pleased +that I had turned to him as a +friend I could trust. When you +can't depend on life for anything +else it's good to know you have a +friend.</p> + +<p>I brushed sand from my +trousers and got up. "Come on," +I said. "We'll take a look."</p> + +<p>It was an ordeal for him. His +face twitched and his eyes +wavered. He knew I hadn't lied +about the scream. If a single +scream could unnerve me that +much it had to be bad.</p> + +<p>We walked to the well in complete +silence. There were shadows +everywhere, chill and forbidding. +Almost like people they seemed, +whispering together, huddling +close in ominous gossipy silence, +aware of what we would find.</p> + +<p>It was a sixty-foot walk from +the fire to the well. A walk in the +sun—a walk in the bright hot sun +of Mars, with utter horror perhaps +at the end of it.</p> + +<p>The horror was there. Harry +made a little choking noise deep +in his throat, and my heart started +pounding like a bass drum.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The man on the sand had no +top to his head. His skull had been +crushed and flattened so hideously +that he seemed like a wooden +figure resting there—an anatomical +dummy with its skull-case +lifted off.</p> + +<p>We looked around for the skull-case, +hoping we'd find it, hoping +we'd made a mistake and stumbled +by accident into an open-air dissecting +laboratory and were looking +at ghastly props made of +plastic and glittering metal instead +of bone and muscle and flesh.</p> + +<p>But the man on the sand had a +name. We'd known him for weeks +and talked to him. He wasn't a +medical dummy, but a corpse. +His limbs were hideously convulsed, +his eyes wide and staring. +The sand beneath his head was +clotted with dried blood. We +looked for the weapon which had +crushed his skull but couldn't find +it.</p> + +<p>We looked for the weapon before +we saw the footprints in the +sand. Big they were—incredibly +large and massive. A man with a +size-twelve shoe might have left +such prints if the leather had become +a little soggy and spread out +around the soles.</p> + +<p>"The poor guy," Harry whispered.</p> + +<p>I knew how he felt. We had all +liked Ned. A harmless little guy +with a great love of solitude, a +guy who hadn't a malicious hair +in his head. A happy little guy +who liked to sing and dance in +the light of a high-leaping fire. He +had a banjo and was good at +music making. Who could have +hated Ned with a rage so primitive +and savage? I looked at Harry +and saw that he was wondering +the same thing.</p> + +<p>Harry looked pretty bad, about +ready to cave in. He was leaning +against the well, a tormented fury +in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"The murderous bastard," he +muttered. "I'd like to get him by +the throat and choke the breath +out of him. Who'd want to do a +thing like that to Ned."</p> + +<p>"I can't figure it either," I said.</p> + +<p>Then I remembered. I don't +think Molly Egan really could +have loved Ned. The curious thing +about it was that Ned didn't even +need the kind of love she could +have given him. He was a self-sufficient +little guy despite his +frailness and didn't really need a +woman to look after him. But +Molly must have seen something +pathetic in him.</p> + +<p>Molly was a beautiful woman +in her own right, and there wasn't +a man in the camp who hadn't +envied Ned. It was puzzling, but +it could have explained why Ned +was lying slumped on the sand +with a bashed-in skull. It could +have explained why someone had +hated him enough to kill him.</p> + +<p>Without lifting a finger Ned had +won Molly's love. That could +make some other guy as mad as +a caged hyena—the wrong sort +of other guy. Even a small man +could have shattered Ned's skull, +but the prints on the sand were +big.</p> + +<p>How many men in the camp +wore size-twelve shoes? That was +the sixty-four dollar question, and +it hung in the shimmering air between +Harry and myself like an +unspoken challenge. We could +almost see the curve of the big +question mark suspended in the +dazzle.</p> + +<p>I thought awhile, looking at +Harry. Then I took a long, deep +breath and said, "We'd better talk +it over with Bill Seaton first. If it +gets around too fast those footprints +will be trampled flat. And +if tempers start rising anything +could happen."</p> + +<p>Harry nodded. Bill was the +kind of guy you could depend on +in an emergency. Cool, poised, +efficient, with an air of authority +that commanded respect. He could +be pigheaded at times, but his +sense of justice was as keen as a +whip.</p> + +<p>Harry and I walked very quietly +across a stretch of tumbled sand +and halted at the door to Bill's +shack. Bill was a bachelor and +we knew there'd be no woman +inside to put her foot down and +tell him he'd be a fool to act as a +lawman. Or would there be? We +had to chance it.</p> + +<p>Law-enforcement is a thankless +job whether on Earth or on +Mars. That's why it attracts the +worst—and the best. If you're a +power-drunk sadist you'll take the +job just for the pleasure it gives +you. But if you're really interested +in keeping violence within +bounds so that fairly decent +lads get a fighting chance to build +for the future, you'll take the job +with no thought of reward beyond +the simple satisfaction of lending +a helping hand.</p> + +<p>Bill Seaton was such a man, +even if he did enjoy the limelight +and liked to be in a position of +command.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Harry," I said. "We +may as well wake him up and get +it over with."</p> + +<p>We went into the shack. Bill +was sleeping on the floor with his +long legs drawn up. His mouth +was open and he was snoring +lustily. I couldn't help thinking +how much he looked like an overgrown +grasshopper. But that was +just a first impression springing +from overwrought nerves.</p> + +<p>I bent down and shook Bill +awake. I grabbed his arm and +shook him until his jaw snapped +shut and he shot up straight, suddenly +galvanized. Instantly the +grotesque aspect fell from him. +Dignity came upon him and enveloped +him like a cloak.</p> + +<p>"Ned, you say? The poor little +cuss! So help me—if I get my +hands on the rat who did it I'll +roast him over a slow fire!"</p> + +<p>He got up, staggered to an +equipment locker, and took out a +sun helmet and a pair of shorts. +He dressed quickly, swearing constantly +and staring out the door +at the bright dawn glow as if he +wanted to send both of his fists +crashing into the first suspicious +guy to cross his path.</p> + +<p>"We can't have those footprints +trampled," he muttered. +"There are a lot of dumb bastards +here who don't know the first thing +about keeping pointers intact. +Those prints may be the only thing +we'll have to go on."</p> + +<p>"Just the three of us can handle +it, Bill," I said. "When you decide +what should be done we can wake +the others."</p> + +<p>Bill nodded. "Keeping it quiet +is the important thing. We'll carry +him back here. When we break +the news I want that body out of +sight."</p> + +<p>Harry and Bill and I—we took +another walk in the sun. I looked +at Harry, and the greenish tinge +which had crept into his face gave +me a jolt. He's taking this pretty +hard, I thought. If I hadn't known +him so well I might have jumped +to an ugly conclusion. But I just +couldn't imagine Harry quarreling +with Ned over Molly.</p> + +<p>How was I taking it myself? I +raised my hand and looked at it. +There was no tremor. Nerves +steady, brain clear. No pleasure +in enforcing the law—pass that +buck to Bill. But there was a +gruesome job ahead, and I was +standing up to it as well as could +be expected.</p> + +<p>Ever try lifting a corpse? The +corpse of a stranger is easier to +lift than the corpse of a man +you've known and liked. Harry +and I lifted him together. Between +us the dead weight didn't seem too +intolerable—not at first. But it +quickly became a terrible, heavy +limpness that dragged at our arms +like some soggy log dredged up +from the dark waters of the canal.</p> + +<p>We carried him into the shack +and eased him down on the floor. +His head fell back and his eyes +lolled.</p> + +<p>Death is always shameful. It +strips away all human reticences +and makes a mockery of human +dignity and man's rebellion against +the cruelty of fate.</p> + +<p>For a moment we stood staring +down at all that was left of Ned. +I looked at Bill. "How many men +in the camp wear number-twelve +shoes?"</p> + +<p>"We'll find out soon enough."</p> + +<p>All this time we hadn't mentioned +Larsen. Not one word +about Larsen, not one spoken +word. Cheating, yes. Lying, +and treacherous disloyalty, and +viciousness, and spite. Fights +around the campfires at midnight, +battered faces and broken wrists +and a cursing that never ceased. +All that we could blame on Larsen. +But a harmless little guy +lying dead by a well in a spreading +pool of blood—that was an +outrage that stopped us dead in +our legend-making tracks.</p> + +<p>There is something in the +human mind which recoils from +too outrageous a deception. How +wonderful it would have been to +say, "Larsen was here again last +night. He found a little guy who +had never harmed anyone standing +by a well in the moonlight. +Just for sheer delight he decided +to kill the little guy right then +and there." Just to add luster to +the legend, just to send a thrill of +excitement about the camp.</p> + +<p>No, that would have been the +lie colossal which no sane man +could have quite believed.</p> + +<p>Something happened then to +further unnerve us.</p> + +<p>The most disturbing sound you +can hear on Mars is the whispering. +Usually it begins as a barely +audible murmur and swells in +volume with every shift of the +wind. But now it started off high +pitched and insistent and did not +stop.</p> + +<p>It was the whispering of a dying +race. The Martians are as elusive +as elves and all the pitiless logic +of science had failed to draw +them forth into the sunlight to +stand before men in uncompromising +arrogance as peers of +the human race.</p> + +<p>That failure was a tragedy in +itself. If man's supremacy is to +be challenged at all let it be by a +creature of flesh-and-blood, a big-brained +biped who must kill to +live. Better that by far than a +ghostly flickering in the deepening +dusk, a whispering and a flapping +and a long-drawn sighing +prophesying death.</p> + +<p>Oh, the Martians were real +enough. A flitting vampire bat is +real, or a stinging ray in the depths +of a blue lagoon. But who could +point to a Martian and say, "I +have seen you plain, in broad daylight. +I have looked into your +owlish eyes and watched you go +flitting over the sand on your thin, +stalklike legs? I know there is +nothing mysterious about you. +You are like a water insect skimming +the surface of a pond in a +familiar meadow on Earth. You +are quick and alert, but no match +for a man. You are no more than +an interesting insect."</p> + +<p>Who could say that, when there +were ruins buried deep beneath +the sand to give the lie to any such +idea. First the ruins, and then +the Martians themselves, always +elusive, gnomelike, goblinlike, +flitting away into the dissolving +dusk.</p> + +<p>You're a comparative archaeologist +and you're on Mars with +the first batch of rugged youngsters +to come tumbling out of a +spaceship with stardust in their +eyes. You see those youngsters +digging wells and sweating in the +desert. You see the prefabricated +housing units go up, the tangle of +machinery, the camp sites growing +lusty with midnight brawls and +skull-cracking escapades. You see +the towns in the desert, the law-enforcement +committees, the camp +followers, the reform fanatics.</p> + +<p>You're a sober-minded scholar, +so you start digging in the ruins. +You bring up odd-looking cylinders, +rolls of threaded film, instruments +of science so complex they +make you giddy.</p> + +<p>You wonder about the Martians—what +they were like when they +were a young and proud race. If +you're an archaeologist you +wonder. But Bill and I—we were +youngsters still. Oh, sure, we were +in our thirties, but who would +have suspected that? Bill looked +twenty-seven and I hadn't a gray +hair in my head.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Bill nodded at Harry. "You'd +better stay here. Tom and I will +be asking some pointed questions, +and our first move will depend on +the answers we get. Don't let +anyone come snooping around +this shack. If anyone sticks his +head in and starts to turn ugly, +warn him just once—then shoot +to kill." He handed Harry a gun.</p> + +<p>Harry nodded grimly and +settled himself on the floor close +to Ned. For the first time since +I'd known him, Harry looked +completely sure of himself.</p> + +<p>As we emerged from the shack +the whispering was so loud the +entire camp had been placed on +the alert. There would be no need +for us to go into shack after shack, +watching surprise and shock come +into their eyes.</p> + +<p>A dozen or more men were +between Bill's shack and the well. +They were staring grimly at the +dawn, as if they could already see +blood on the sky, spilling over +on the sand and spreading out in +a sinister pool at their feet. A +mirage-like pool mirroring their +own hidden forebodings, mirroring +a knotted rope and the straining +shoulders of men too vengeful +to know the meaning of restraint.</p> + +<p>Jim Kenny stood apart and +alone, about forty feet from the +well, staring straight at us. His +shirt was open at the throat, exposing +a patch of hairy chest, and +his big hands were wedged deeply +into his belt. He stood about six +feet three, very powerful, and with +large feet.</p> + +<p>I nudged Bill's arm. "What do +you think?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Kenny did seem a likely suspect. +Molly had caught his eye +right from the start, and he had +lost no time in pursuing her. A +guy like Kenny would have felt +that losing out to a man of his +own breed would have been a terrible +blow to his pride. But just +imagine Kenny losing out to a +little guy like Ned. It would have +infuriated him and glazed his eyes +with a red film of hate.</p> + +<p>Bill answered my question +slowly, his eyes on Kenny's +cropped head. "I think we'd better +take a look at his shoes," he +said.</p> + +<p>We edged up slowly, taking +care not to disturb the others, +pretending we were sauntering toward +the well on a before-breakfast +stroll.</p> + +<p>It was then that Molly came +out of her shack. She stood blinking +for an instant in the dawn +glare, her unbound hair falling +in a tumbled dark mass to her +shoulders, her eyes still drowsy +with sleep. She wore rust-colored +slippers and a form-fitted yellow +robe, belted in at the waist.</p> + +<p>Molly wasn't beautiful exactly. +But there was something pulse-stirring +about her and it was easy +to understand how a man like +Kenny might find her difficult to +resist.</p> + +<p>Bill slanted a glance at Kenny, +then shrugged and looked straight +at Molly. He turned to me, his +voice almost a whisper, "She's got +to be told, Tom. You do it. She +likes you a lot."</p> + +<p>I'd been wondering about that +myself—just how much she liked +me. It was hard to be sure.</p> + +<p>Bill saw my hesitation, and +frowned. "You can tell if she's +covering up. Her reaction may +give us a lead."</p> + +<p>Molly looked startled when she +saw me approaching without the +mask I usually wore when I +waltzed her around and grinned +and ruffled her hair and told her +that she was the cutest kid imaginable +and would make some man—not +me—a fine wife.</p> + +<p>That made telling her all the +harder. The hardest part was at +the end—when she stared at me +dry-eyed and threw her arms +around me as if I was the last +support left to her on Earth.</p> + +<p>For a moment I almost forgot +we were not on Earth. On Earth +I might have been able to comfort +her in a completely sane way. +But on Mars when a woman +comes into your arms your emotions +can turn molten in a matter +of seconds.</p> + +<p>"Steady," I whispered. "We're +just good friends, remember?"</p> + +<p>"I'd be willing to forget, Tom," +she said.</p> + +<p>"You've had a terrible shock," +I whispered. "You really loved +that little guy—more than you +know. It's natural enough that +you should feel a certain warmth +toward me. I just happened to be +here—so you kissed me."</p> + +<p>"No, Tom. It isn't that way +at all—"</p> + +<p>I might have let myself go a +little then if Kenny hadn't seen +us. He stood very still for an +instant, staring at Molly. Then +his eyes narrowed and he walked +slowly toward us, his hands still +wedged in his belt.</p> + +<p>I looked quickly at Molly, and +saw that her features had +hardened. There was a look of +dark suspicion in her eyes. Bill +had been watching Kenny, too, +waiting for him to move. He +measured footsteps with Kenny, +advancing in the same direction +from a different angle at a pace so +calculated that they seemed to +meet by accident directly in front +of us.</p> + +<p>Bill didn't draw but his hand +never left his hip. His voice came +clear and sharp and edged with +cold insistence. "Know anything +about it, Kenny?"</p> + +<p>Strain seemed to tighten Kenny's +face, but there was no panic in his +eyes, no actual glint of fear. "What +made you think I'd know?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Bill didn't say a word. He just +started staring at Kenny's shoes. +He stood back a bit and continued +to stare as if something vitally important +had escaped him and +taken refuge beneath the soggy +leather around Kenny's feet.</p> + +<p>"What size shoes do you wear, +Jim?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Kenny must have suspected +that the question was charged with +as much explosive risk as a +detonating wire set to go off at +the faintest jar. His eyes grew +shrewd and mocking.</p> + +<p>"So the guy who did it left +prints in the sand?" he said. +"Prints made by big shoes?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," Bill said. "You +have a very active mind."</p> + +<p>Kenny laughed then, the +mockery deepening in his stare. +"Well," he said, "suppose we +have a look at those prints, and if +it will ease your mind I'll take +off my shoes and you can try +them out for size."</p> + +<p>Kenny and Bill and I walked +slowly from Molly's shack to the +well in the hot and blazing glare, +and the whispering went right on, +getting under our skin in a tormenting +sort of way.</p> + +<p>Kenny still wore that disturbing +grin. He looked at the prints +and grunted. "Yeah," he said, +"they sure are big. Biggest prints +I've ever seen."</p> + +<p>He sat down and started unlacing +his shoes. First the right +shoe, then the left. He pulled off +both shoes and handed them to +Bill.</p> + +<p>"Fit them in," he said. +"Measure them for size. Measure +<i>me</i> for size, and to hell with you!"</p> + +<p>Bill made a careful check. +There were eight prints, and he +fitted the shoes painstakingly into +each of them. There was space +to spare at each try.</p> + +<p>It cleared Kenny completely. +He wasn't a killer—this time. We +might have roused the camp to a +lynching fury and Kenny would +have died for a crime another man +had committed. I shut my eyes +and saw Larsen swinging from a +roof top, a black hood over his +face. I saw Molly standing in the +sunlight by my side, her face a +stony mask.</p> + +<p>I opened my eyes and there +was Kenny, grinning contemptuously +at us. He'd called our bluff +and won out. Now the shoe was +on the other foot.</p> + +<p>A cold chill ran up my spine. +It was Kenny who was doing the +staring now, and he was looking +directly at my shoes. He stood +back a bit and continued to stare. +He was dramatizing his sudden +triumph in a way that turned my +blood to ice.</p> + +<p>Then I saw that Bill was staring +too—straight at the shoes of +a man he had known for three +years and grown to like and trust. +But underlying the warmth and +friendliness in Bill was a granite-like +integrity which nothing could +shake.</p> + +<p>It was Bill who spoke first. "I +guess you'd better take them off, +Tom," he said. "We may as well +be thorough about this."</p> + +<p>Sure, I was big. I grew up fast +as a kid and at eighteen I weighed +two hundred and thirty pounds, all +lean flesh. If shoes ran large I +could sometimes cram my feet +into size twelves, but I felt much +more comfortable in a size or two +larger than that.</p> + +<p>What made it worse, Molly +liked me. I was involved with +her, but no one knew how much. +No one knew whether we'd quarreled +or not, or how insanely +jealous I could be. No one knew +whether Molly had only pretended +to like Ned while carrying +a torch for me, and how dangerously +complex the situation might +have become all along the line.</p> + +<p>I stood very still, listening. The +whispering was so loud now it +drowned out the sighing of the +wind. I looked down at my shoes. +They were caked with mud and +soggy and discolored. Day after +day I'd trudge back and forth +from the canal to the shacks in +the blazing sunlight without giving +my feet a thought until the ache +in them had become intolerable, +rest an absolute necessity.</p> + +<p>There was only one thing to do—call +Kenny's bluff so fast he +wouldn't have time to hurl another +accusation at me.</p> + +<p>I handed Bill both of my shoes. +He looked at me and nodded. I +waited, listening to the whispering +rise and fall, watching him +stoop and fit the shoes into the +prints on the sand.</p> + +<p>He straightened suddenly. His +face was expressionless, but I +could see that he was waging a +terrible inward struggle with himself.</p> + +<p>"Your shoes come pretty close +to filling out those prints, Tom," +he said. "I can't be sure—but a +wax impression test should pretty +well clear this up." He gripped my +arm and nodded toward the +shacks. "Better stick close to me."</p> + +<p>Kenny took a slow step backward, +his jaw tightening, his eyes +searching Bill's face. "Wax impression +test, hell!" he said. +"You've got your murderer. I'm +going to see he gets what's coming +to him—right now!"</p> + +<p>Bill shook his head. "I'll do +this my way," he said.</p> + +<p>Kenny glared at him, then +laughed harshly. "You won't have +a chance," he said. "The boys +won't stand for it. I'm going to +spread the word around, and +you'd better not try to stop me."</p> + +<p>That did it. I'd been holding +myself in, but I had a sudden, +overpowering urge to send my +fist crashing into Kenny's face, to +send him crashing to the sand. I +started for him, but he jumped +back and started shouting.</p> + +<p>I can't remember exactly what +he shouted. But he said just +enough to put a noose around my +neck. Every man and woman between +the shacks and the well +swung about to stare at me. I saw +shock and rage flare in the eyes of +men who usually had steady +nerves. They were not calm now—not +one of them.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>It all happened so fast I was +caught off balance. In the harsh +Martian sunlight human emotions +can be as unstable as a wind-lashed +dune.</p> + +<p>A crazy thought flashed through +my mind: Will Molly believe this +too? Will she join these madmen +in their wild thirst for vengeance? +My need for her was suddenly +overwhelming. Just seeing her +face would have helped, but now +more men had emerged from the +shacks and I couldn't see beyond +them. They were heading straight +for me and I knew that even Bill +would be powerless to stop them.</p> + +<p>You can't argue with an +avalanche. It was rolling straight +toward me, gathering momentum +as it came—not one man or a +dozen, but a solid wall of human +hate and unreason.</p> + +<p>Bill stood his ground. He had +drawn his gun, and he started +shouting that the prints couldn't +have been made by my shoes. I +chalked that up to his credit and +resolved never to forget it.</p> + +<p>I knew I'd have to make a dash +for it. I ran as fast as I could, +keeping my eyes on the glimmer +of sunlight on rising dunes, and +deep hollows which a carefully +placed bullet could have quickly +changed into a burial mound.</p> + +<p>A sudden crackling burst of +gunfire ripped through the air. +Directly in my path the sand geysered +up as the bullets ripped and +tore at it. Somebody wasn't a +good marksman, or had let blind +rage unnerve him and spoil his +aim. A lot of somebodies—for +the firing increased and became +almost continuous for an instant, +a dull crackling which drowned +out the whispering and the sighing +of the wind.</p> + +<p>Then abruptly all sound ceased. +Utter stillness descended on the +desert—an unnatural, terrifying +stillness, as if nature herself had +stopped breathing and was waiting +for someone to scream.</p> + +<p>I must have been mad to turn. +A weaving target has a chance, +but a target standing motionless +is a sitting duck and his life hangs +by a hair. But still I turned.</p> + +<p>Something was happening between +the well and the shacks +which halted the pursuit dead in +its tracks. One of the shacks was +wrapped in darting tongues of +flame, and a woman was screaming, +and a man close to her was +grappling with something huge +and misshapen which loomed +starkly against the dawn glow.</p> + +<p>A human shape? I could not +be sure. It seemed monstrous, +with a bulge between its shoulders +which gave a grotesque and distorted +aspect to the shadow which +its weaving bulk cast upon the +sand. I could see the shadow +clearly across three hundred feet +of sand. It lengthened and +shortened, as if an octopus-like +ferocity had given it the power +to distort itself at will, lengthening +its tentacles and then whipping +them back again.</p> + +<p>But it was not an octopus. It +had legs and arms, and it was +crushing the man in a grip of +steel. I could see that now. I +stared as the others were staring, +their backs turned to me, their +blind hatred for me blotted out +by that greater horror.</p> + +<p>I suddenly realized that the +shape was human. It had the head +and shoulders of a man, and a +torso that could twist with +muscular purpose, and massive +hands that could maul and maim. +It threw the hapless man from it +with a sudden convulsive contraction +of its entire bulk. I had +never seen a human being move +in quite that way, but even as its +violence flared its manlike aspect +became more pronounced.</p> + +<p>A frightful thing happened +then. The woman screamed and +rushed toward the brutish maniac +with her fingers splayed. The +swaying figure bent, grabbed her +about the waist, and lifted her +high into the air. I thought for a +moment he was about to crush +her as he had crushed the man. +But I was wrong. She was hurled +to the sand, but with a violence so +brutal that she went instantly limp.</p> + +<p>Then the brutal madman +turned, and I saw his face. If +ever monstrous cruelty and malign +cunning looked out of a human +countenance it looked out of the +eyes that stared in my direction, +remorseless in their hate.</p> + +<p>I could not tear my gaze from +his face. The hate in it could be +sensed, even across a blinding +haze of sunlight that blotted out +the sharp contours of physical +things. But more than hate could +be sensed. There was something +tremendous about that face, as if +the evil which had ravaged it had +left the searing brand of Lucifer +himself!</p> + +<p>For an instant the madman +stood motionless, his ghastly brutality +unchallenged. Then Jeff +Winters started for it. Jeff had +come to Mars alone and grown +more solitary with every passing +day. He was a brooding, ingrown +man, secretive and sullen, with a +streak of wildness which he usually +managed to control. He went +for the madman like a gigantic +terrier pup, shaggy and ferocious +and contemptuous of death.</p> + +<p>The big figure turned quickly, +raised his arm, and brought his +closed fist down on Jeff's skull. +Jeff collapsed like a shattered +plaster cast. His body seemed to +break and splinter, and he +sprawled forward on the sand.</p> + +<p>He did not get up.</p> + +<p>Frank Anders had guns on +both hips, and he drew them fast. +No one knew what kind of man +Anders was. He hardly ever complained +or made a spectacle of +himself. A little guy with sandy +hair and cold blue eyes, he had +an accuracy of aim that did his +talking for him.</p> + +<p>His guns suddenly roared. For +an instant the air between his +hands and the maniac was a +crackling wall of flame. The brute +swayed a little but did not turn +aside. He went straight for Anders +with both arms spread wide.</p> + +<p>He caught Anders about the +waist, lifted him up, and slammed +his body down against the sand. +A sickness came over me as I +stared. The madman bashed +Anders' head against the ground +again and again. Then suddenly +the big arms relaxed and Anders +sagged limply to the ground.</p> + +<p>For an instant the madman +swayed slowly back and forth, like +a blood-stained marionette on a +wire. Then he moved forward +with a terrible, shambling gait, his +head lowered, a dark, misshapen +shadow seeming to lengthen before +him on the sand like a spindle +of flame.</p> + +<p>The clearing was abruptly +tumultuous with sound. The fury +which had been unleashed against +me turned upon the monster and +became a closed circle of deadly, +intent purpose hemming him in—and +he was caught in a crossfire +that hurled him backwards to the +sand.</p> + +<p>He jumped up and lunged +straight for the well. What +happened then was like the +awakening stages of some horrible +dream. The madman shambled +past the well, the air at his back a +crackling sheet of flame. The +barrage behind him was continuous +and merciless. The men +were organized now, standing together +in a solid wall, firing with +deadly accuracy and a grim purpose +which transcended fear.</p> + +<p>The madman went clumping on +past me and climbed a dune with +his shoulders held straight. With a +sunset glare deepening about him, +he went striding over the dune +and out of sight.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I turned and stared back at +the camp. The pursuit had passed +the well and was headed for me. +But no one paid the slightest attention +to me. Twelve men passed +me, walking three abreast. Bill +came along in their wake, his eyes +stony hard. He reached out as he +passed me, gripping my shoulder, +giving me a foot-of-the-gallows +kind of smile.</p> + +<p>"We know now who killed +Ned," he whispered. "We know, +fella. Take it easy, relax."</p> + +<p>My head was throbbing, but I +could see the big prints from +where I stood—the prints of a +murderer betrayed by his insatiable +urge to slay.</p> + +<p>I saw Kenny pass, and he gave +me a contemptuous grin. He had +done his best to destroy me, but +there was no longer any hate left +in me.</p> + +<p>I took a slow step forward—and +fell flat on my face....</p> + +<p>I woke up with my head in +Molly's lap. She was looking +down into my face, sobbing in a +funny sort of way and running +her fingers through my hair.</p> + +<p>She looked startled when she +saw that I was wide awake. She +blinked furiously and started +fumbling at her waist for a handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"I must have passed out cold," +I said. "It's quite a strain to be +at the receiving end of a lynching +bee. And what I saw afterwards +wasn't exactly pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Darling," she whispered, +"don't move, don't say a word. +You're going to be all right."</p> + +<p>"You bet I am!" I said. "Right +now I feel great."</p> + +<p>My arm went around her +shoulder, and I drew her head +down until her breath was warm +on my face. I kissed her hair and +lips and eyes for a full minute in +utter recklessness.</p> + +<p>When I released her her eyes +were shining, and she was laughing +a little and crying too. "You've +changed your mind," she said. +"You believe me now, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk," I said. "Don't +say another word. I just want to +look at you."</p> + +<p>"It was you right from the +start," she said. "Not Ned—or +anyone else."</p> + +<p>"I was a blind fool," I said.</p> + +<p>"You never gave me a second +glance."</p> + +<p>"One glance was enough," I +whispered. "But when I saw how +it seemed to be between you and +Ned—"</p> + +<p>"I was never in love with him. +It was just—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, don't say it," I +said. "It's over and done with."</p> + +<p>I stopped, remembering. Her +eyes grew wide and startled, and +I could see that she was remembering +too.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" I asked. +"Did they catch that vicious rat?"</p> + +<p>She brushed back her hair, the +sunlight suddenly harsh on her +face. "He fell into the canal. +The bullets brought him down, +and he collapsed on the bank."</p> + +<p>Her hand tightened on my +wrist. "Bill told me. He tried to +swim, but the current carried him +under. He went down and never +came up."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," I said. "Did anyone +in the camp ever see him before?"</p> + +<p>Molly shook her head. "Bill +said he was a drifter—a dangerous +maniac who must have been +crazed by the sun."</p> + +<p>"I see," I said.</p> + +<p>I reached out and drew her into +my arms again, and we rested for +a moment stretched out side by +side on the sand.</p> + +<p>"It's funny," I said after a +while.</p> + +<p>"What is?"</p> + +<p>"You know what they say about +the whispering. Sometimes when +you listen intently you seem to +hear words deep in your mind. +As if the Martians had telepathic +powers."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they have," she +said.</p> + +<p>I glanced sideways at her. "Remember," +I said. "There were +cities on Mars when our ancestors +were hairy apes. The Martian +civilization was flourishing and +great fifty million years before the +pyramids arose as a monument to +human solidarity and worth. A +bad monument, built by slave +labor. But at least it was a start."</p> + +<p>"Now you're being poetic, +Tom," she said.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am. The Martians +must have had their pyramids +too. And at the pyramid stage +they must have had their Larsens, +to shoulder all the guilt. To them +we may still be in the pyramid +stage. Suppose—"</p> + +<p>"Suppose what?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose they wanted to warn +us, to give us a lesson we couldn't +forget. How can we say with +certainty that a dying race couldn't +still make use of certain techniques +that are far beyond us."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I don't understand," +she said, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Someday," I said, "our own +science will take a tiny fragment +of human tissue from the body of +a dead man, put it into an incubating +machine, and a new man +will arise again from that tiny +shred of flesh. A man who can +walk and live and breathe again, +and love again, and die again after +another full lifetime.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the Martian science +was once as great as that. And +the Martians might still remember +a few of the techniques. Perhaps +from our human brains, from our +buried memories and desires, they +could filch the key and bring to +horrible life a thing so monstrous +and so terrible—"</p> + +<p>Her hand went suddenly cold +in mine. "Tom, you can't honestly +think—"</p> + +<p>"No," I said. "It's nonsense, of +course. Forget it."</p> + +<p>I didn't tell her what the whispering +had seemed to say, deep +in my mind.</p> + +<p><i>We've brought you Larsen! +You wanted Larsen, and we've +made him for you! His flesh and +his mind—his cruel strength and +his wicked heart! Here he comes, +here he is! Larsen, Larsen, Larsen!</i></p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/001-2.jpg"><img src="images/001-1.jpg" width="141" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>Fantastic Universe</i> January 1954. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Man the Martians Made, by Frank Belknap Long + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN THE MARTIANS MADE *** + +***** This file should be named 29432-h.htm or 29432-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/3/29432/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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