Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (47 page)

"The
strange
exultation
that
so
often
seems
to
accompany
hard fighting
came
upon
me.
I
knew
that
both
I
and
Weena
were
lost,
but
I
determined
to
make
the
Morlocks
pay
for
their
meat.
I
stood
with my
back
to
a
tree,
swinging
the
iron
bar
before
me.
The
whole
wood was
full
of
the
stir
and
cries
of
them.
A
minute
passed.
Their
voices seemed
to
rise
to
a
higher
pitch
of
excitement,
and
their
movements grew
faster.
Yet
none
came
within
reach.
I
stood
glaring
at
the
blackness.
Then
suddenly
came
hope.
What
if
the
Morlocks
were
afraid? And
close
on
the
heels
of
that
came
a
strange
thing.
The
darkness seemed
to
grow
luminous.
Very
dimly
I
began
to
see
the
Morlocks about
me—three
battered
at
my
feet—and
then
I
recognised,
with incredulous
surprise,
that
the
others
were
running,
in
an
incessant stream,
as
it
seemed,
from
behind
me,
and
away
through
the
wood
in front.
And
their
backs
seemed
no
longer
white,
but
reddish.
As
I
stood agape,
I
saw
a
little
red
spark
go
drifting
across
a
gap
of
starlight between
the
branches,
and
vanish.
And
at
that
I
understood
the
smell of
burning
wood,
the
slumbrous
murmur
that
was
growing
now
into a
gusty
roar,
the
red
glow,
and
the
Morlocks'
flight.

"Stepping
out
from
behind
my
tree
and
looking
back,
I
saw, through
the
black
pillars
of
the
nearer
trees,
the
flames
of
the
burning forest.
It
was
my
first
fire
coming
after
me.
With
that
I
looked
for Weena,
but
she
was
gone.
The
hissing
and
crackling
behind
me,
the explosive
thud
as
each
fresh
tree
burst
into
flame,
left
little
time
for reflection.
My
iron
bar
still
gripped,
I
followed
in
the
Morlocks'
path. It
was
a
close
race.
Once
the
flames
crept
forward
so
swiftly
on
my right
as
I
ran
that
I
was
outflanked
and
had
to
strike
off
to
the
left. But
at
last
I
emerged
upon
a
small
open
space,
and
as
I
did
so,
a Morlock
came
blundering
towards
me,
and
past
me,
and
went
on straight
into
the
fire!

"And
now
I
was
to
see
the
most
weird
and
horrible
thing,
I
think, of
all
that
I
beheld
in
that
future
age.
This
whole
space
was
as
bright as
day
with
the
reflection
of
the
fire.
In
the
centre
was
a
hillock
or tumulus,
surmounted
by
a
scorched
hawthorn.
Beyond
this
was
another
arm
of
the
burning
forest,
with
yellow
tongues
already
writhing from
it,
completely
encircling
the
space
with
a
fence
of
fire.
Upon
the hillside
were
some
thirty
or
forty
Morlocks,
dazzled
by
the
light
and heat,
and
blundering
hither
and
thither
against
each
other
in
their bewilderment.
At
first
I
did
not
realise
their
blindness,
and
struck furiously
at
them
with
my
bar,
in
a
frenzy
of
fear,
as
they
approached me,
killing
one
and
crippling
several
more.
But
when
I
had
watched the
gestures
of
one
of
them
groping
under
the
hawthorn
against
the red
sky,
and
heard
their
moans,
I
was
assured
of
their
absolute
helplessness
and
misery
in
the
glare,
and
I
struck
no
more
of
them.