I knew what I had seen and this time Larry could not call
me--superstitious. In the jungles of Borneo I had examined that other
swiftly developing fungus which wreaks the vengeance of some of the
hill tribes upon those who steal their women; gripping with its
microscopic hooks into the flesh; sending quick, tiny rootlets through
the skin down into the capillaries, sucking life and thriving and
never to be torn away until the living thing it clings to has been
sapped dry. Here was but another of the species in which the
development's rate was incredibly accelerated. Some of this I tried to
explain to O'Keefe as we sped along, reassuring him.
"But they turned to moss before our eyes!" he said.
Again I explained, patiently. But he seemed to derive no comfort at
all from my assurances that the phenomena were entirely natural and,
aside from their more terrifying aspect, of peculiar interest to the
botanist.
"I know," was all he would say. "But suppose one of those things had
burst while we were going through--God!"
I was wondering how I could with comparative safety study the fungus
when Rador stopped; in front of us was again the road ribbon.
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