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On the harsh Martian frontier, young Peter and Susan are left in the care of their impatient guardian, Mr. Caxton, while their parents explore the desert. The curious children spot mysterious clawmarks in the red sand, but their discovery is met with scorn. As night falls, an otherworldly creature materializes at their door, igniting terror and wonder.
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Seitenzahl: 22
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2006
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
MR. CAXTON DRAWS A MARTIAN BIRD, by Frank Belknap Long
Copyright © 1954 by Frank Belknap Long.
Originally published in FantasticUniverse, July 1954. Although this story is in the publicdomain in the United States, it remains in copyright in Spain and other countries.
Reprinted by kind permission of Lily Doty, Mansfield Doty,and the Estate of Frank Belknap Long.
Published by Black Cat Weekly.
blackcatweekly.com
Mr. Caxton was such an impatient, ill-tempered man it was surprising that the children cared to talk to him at all. It was even more surprising that the parents of Peter and Susan Ashley should have gone exploring in the trackless Martian desert, and left Mr. Caxton in charge.
Peter was ten, and Susan was eight, and even on Earth the Mr. Caxtons of this world make very poor companions for the young.
It was true, of course, that Mr. Caxton was skillful with skillets, and knew how to build and bank fires with great precision, and economy of effort. But surely some kindlier guardian could have been found for Peter and Susan, some guardian less harsh, self-centered, and downright mean.
In the rust-red desert camps were gruff, friendly, grizzled-bearded men who would have taken delight in dangling both children on their knees. In the camps were men who would have said: “Hello, Susan! Hello, Tommy! Isn’t it a grand day for hiking? What’s that? You saw a clawmark in the sand? Four-toed? Well now—suppose we go, and have a look.”
“But we really saw it, Mr. Caxton!” Peter insisted. “We’re not making it up. Honest we’re not.”
“Sit down, don’t annoy me!” Mr. Caxton said, throwing another log on the fire. “If you say another word I’ll take you across my knee, and drum some sober sense into you!”
Tommy winced, and recoiled in alarm. But Susan could run, hop or skip a rope, and still know when an adult was bluffing.
“You wouldn’t dare spank Peter,” she said.
“Oh, wouldn’t I?”
Mr. Caxton arose from his crouching position by the fire, and eyed Susan angrily. “You’re a very little girl to talk so big,” he sneered. “Let me tell you something. To me you’re a woman already—a woman in embryo. I can see you twenty years from now, nagging the life out of a man. If I sent you off to bed without your supper I’d be doing your future husband a favor.”
“Just try shutting Peter and me up in the dark again!” Susan warned. “Just try—and see what happens!”
