Out of Time's Abyss

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 0

Out of Time's Abyss


Edgar Rice Burroughs

Chapter I

This is the tale of Bradley after he left Fort Dinosaur upon the west
coast of the great lake that is in the center of the island.

Upon the fourth day of September, 1916, he set out with four
companions, Sinclair, Brady, James, and Tippet, to search along the
base of the barrier cliffs for a point at which they might be scaled.

Through the heavy Caspakian air, beneath the swollen sun, the five men
marched northwest from Fort Dinosaur, now waist-deep in lush, jungle
grasses starred with myriad gorgeous blooms, now across open
meadow-land and parklike expanses and again plunging into dense forests
of eucalyptus and acacia and giant arboreous ferns with feathered
fronds waving gently a hundred feet above 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

"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 eat
everything they see."

For a moment no further sound came from the thicket. "He may be
feeding now," suggested Bradley. "We'll try to go around him. Can't
waste ammunition. Won't last forever. Follow me." And he set off at
right angles to their former course, hoping to avert a charge. They
had taken a dozen steps, perhaps, when the thicket moved to the advance
of the thing within it, the leafy branches parted, and the hideous head
of a gigantic bear emerged.

"Pick your trees," whispered Bradley. "Can't waste ammunition."

The men looked about them. The bear took a couple of steps forward,
still growling menacingly. He was exposed to the shoulders now.
Tippet took one look at the

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