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Merritt, Abraham, 1884-1943

"The Moon Pool"

Our path ran between a few of them. To the left they were
thick. They were viridescent, almost metallic hued--verd-antique.
Curiously indeed were they like distorted images of dog and deerlike
forms, of birds--of _dwarfs_ and here and there the simulacra of the
giant frogs! Spore cases, yellowish green, as large as mitres and much
resembling them in shape protruded from the heaps. My repulsion grew
into a distinct nausea.
Rador turned to us a face whiter far than that with which he had
looked upon the dragon worm.
"Now for your lives," he whispered, "tread softly here as I do--and
speak not at all!"
He stepped forward on tiptoe, slowly with utmost caution. We crept
after him; passed the heaps beside the path--and as I passed my skin
crept and I shrank and saw the others shrink too with that unnameable
loathing; nor did the green dwarf pause until he had reached the brow
of a small hillock a hundred yards beyond. And he was trembling.
"Now what are we up against?" grumbled O'Keefe.
The green dwarf stretched a hand; stiffened; gazed over to the left of
us beyond a lower hillock upon whose broad crest lay a file of the
moss shapes.


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