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The Door in the Wall And Other Stories | H. G. [Herbert George] Wells | |
The Country of the Blind |
Page 7 of 17 |
"Bogota," he said. "Bogota. Over the mountain crests." "A wild man--using wild words," said Pedro. "Did you hear that--"BOGOTA? His mind has hardly formed yet. He has only the beginnings of speech." A little boy nipped his hand. "Bogota!" he said mockingly. "Aye! A city to your village. I come from the great world --where men have eyes and see." "His name's Bogota," they said. "He stumbled," said Correa--" stumbled twice as we came hither." "Bring him in to the elders." And they thrust him suddenly through a doorway into a room as black as pitch, save at the end there faintly glowed a fire. The crowd closed in behind him and shut out all but the faintest glimmer of day, and before he could arrest himself he had fallen headlong over the feet of a seated man. His arm, outflung, struck the face of someone else as he went down; he felt the soft impact of features and heard a cry of anger, and for a moment he struggled against a number of hands that clutched him. It was a one-sided fight. An inkling of the situation came to him and he lay quiet. "I fell down," be said; I couldn't see in this pitchy darkness." There was a pause as if the unseen persons about him tried to understand his words. Then the voice of Correa said: "He is but newly formed. He stumbles as he walks and mingles words that mean nothing with his speech." Others also said things about him that he heard or understood imperfectly. "May I sit up?" he asked, in a pause. "I will not struggle against you again." They consulted and let him rise. |
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The Door in the Wall And Other Stories H. G. [Herbert George] Wells |
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