That thought was disturbing him too. They pressed
forward, and suddenly Holden exclaimed. "That looks like a man! Two
men!"
Cochrane caught the barest glimpse of something running about, far
ahead. It looked like naked human flesh. It was the size of a man. It
vanished. Another popped into view and darted madly out of sight. They
did not see the newcomers.
"He shot something like that, back where we first landed," said Cochrane
grimly. "We'd better hurry!"
They did hurry. There was a last flurry of shooting. It was automatic
fire. It is not wise to shoot on automatic if one's ammunition is
limited, Johnny Simms' firearm chattered furiously for part of a second.
It stopped short. He couldn't have fired so short a burst. He was out of
bullets.
They ran.
When they drew near him, a hooting set up. Things scattered away. Large
things. Birds the size of men. They heard Johnny Simms screaming.
They came panting to the very beach, on which foam-tipped waves broke in
absolutely normal grandeur. The sand was commonplace save for a slight
bluish tint. Johnny Simms was out on the beach, in the open. He was
down.
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