The City Of Gold And Lead (The Tripods) - Plot & Excerpts
The Tripod’s action, of smashing the raft instead, astonished as well as frightened me. I went deep under and took a mouthful of river water before I fully realized what was happening. When I surfaced, I looked up and saw that the Tripod, silent again, was rocking away on its previous course to the south. It seemed that what it had done had been aimless, on a par with the waltzing around the Orion when we were crossing the Channel from England. Like a vicious boy it had noticed something strange, swatted it out of pointless malice, and gone its way. But survival was a more pressing concern than speculation on the motives of the Tripods. The raft had disintegrated into its component planks, one of which bobbed on the water near me. A couple of strokes took me to it, and I hung on and looked for Beanpole. I could see nothing but the river, graying with the approach of evening, and wondered if the tip of the tentacle might have struck him as it came down. Then I heard his voice and, turning my head to look back, saw him swimming in my direction.
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