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289
Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930
·
Various
18
Gunga
was
slowly
recovering.
His
iron
constitution
helped
him
to
rally
from
the
powerful
blow
he
had
received,
and
by
the
time
the
jungle
was
still
he
was
sitting
up
mumbling
apologies.
"Never
mind,"
said
his
master.
"Shin
down
there
and
cut
us
off
a
good
helping
of
roast
tongue,
if
it
has
a
tongue,
before
something
else
comes
along
and
beats
us
out
of
a
feast."
"Him
poison,
maybe,"
Gunga
demurred.
They
had
killed
a
specimen
new
to
zoologists.
"Might
as
well
die
of
poison
as
starvation,"
Forepaugh
countered.
Without
more
ado
the
Martian
descended,
cut
out
some
large,
juicy
chunks
as
his
fancy
dictated,
and
brought
his
loot
back
up
the
tree.
The
meat
was
delicious
and
apparently
wholesome.
They
gorged
themselves
and
threw
away
what
they
could
not
eat,
for
food
spoils
very
quickly
in
the
Inranian
jungles
and
uneaten
meat
would
only
serve
to
attract
hordes
of
the
gauzy-winged,
glutinous
Inranian
swamp
flies.
As
they
sank
into
slumber
they
could
hear
the
beginning
of
a
bedlam
of
snarling
and
fighting
as
the
lesser
Carnivora
fed
on
the
body
of
the
fallen
giant.
When
they
awoke
the
chronometer
recorded
the
passing
of
twelve
hours,
and
they
had
to
tear
a
network
of
strong
fibers
with
which
the
tree
had
invested
them
preparatory
to
absorbing
their
bodies
as
food.
For
so
keen
is
the
competition
for
life
on
Inra
that
practically
all
vegetation
is
capable
of
absorbing
animal
food
directly.
Many
an
Inranian
explorer
can
tell
tales
of
narrow
escapes
from
some
of
the
more
specialized
flesh-eating
plants;
but
they
are
now
so
well
known
that
they
are
easily
avoided.
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