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The First Men In The Moon | H. G. [Herbert George] Wells | |
The Mooncalf Pastures |
Page 5 of 7 |
I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. "Cavor," I said in a hoarse undertone. He glanced at me with his face screwed up. "Don't," he said. I put down the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting fleshiness for a space. "Cavor," I asked, "why not?" "Poison," I heard him say, but he did not look round. We crawled some way before I decided. "I'll chance it," said I. He made a belated gesture to prevent me. I stuffed my mouth full. He crouched watching my face, his own twisted into the oddest expression. "It's good," I said. "O Lord!" he cried. He watched me munch, his face wrinkled between desire and disapproval, then suddenly succumbed to appetite and began to tear off huge mouthfuls. For a time we did nothing but eat. The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mushroom, only it was much laxer in texture, and, as one swallowed it, it warmed the throat. At first we experienced a mere mechanical satisfaction in eating; then our blood began to run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and fingers, and then new and slightly irrelevant ideas came bubbling up in our minds. |
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The First Men In The Moon H. G. [Herbert George] Wells |
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