South to Propontis
By HENRY ANDREW ACKERMANN
To the South lay Propontis, capital of
Mars. But between it and the homesick
Earth-youth stretched a burning desert—lair
of the deadly Avis Gladiator!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1941.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It wasn't the grim thought that he would be dead in a few moments that filled the mind of Don Moffat so much as the bitter realization that a sixteen-year-old suspicion had been confirmed too late.
Across the small room a mad light burned in the blood-shot eyes of his uncle. In spite of the raw liquor he had drunk, the grimy paw that held the old electronic gun was steady.
Beyond the battered hut's open door heat-blasted desert pulsated as a tiny sun beat savagely down on the arid, sterile wastes from the inferno's distant rim.
It was that southern rim, a mere uneven thread of rust, to which Don had raised his eyes so many times that day, his heart light with the thought that he was going to Propontis. And from Propontis to a greener world beyond—a world he had dreamed of one day seeing; a world where water wasn't priceless. Earth!