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Their ammunition is long since spent, their muskets, spoilt by the perpetual vapor-bath of the steaming woods, are left behind as useless in a cave by some cataract of the Orinoco: but their swords are bright and terrible as ever; and they carry bows of a strength which no Indian arm can bend, and arrows pointed with the remnants of their armor; many of them, too, are armed with the pocuna or blowgun of the Indians more deadly, because more silent, than the firearms which they have left behind them.
Tucu watched the proceeding in satirical approval. Then, leaving the body where it lay, he went stooping along the path ahead, his keen eyes searching the undergrowth. In a few minutes he returned with the blood-stained dart which, as Lourenço had guessed, the stricken prowler had pulled from his flesh and dropped. This he passed to a blowgun man.
And the second world where the ruins of a giant city had stood choked with jungle vegetation, where he had made a blowgun from tubes of rustless metal as a weapon gift for small winged men but were they men? Both had been remnants of that ancient galactic empire. "Some things could so remain," he answered soberly. "If we find them, we must be careful. But first a good site for the rancheria."
Frank placed the blowgun to his mouth, and in a moment his pellet struck the animal smartly on the side of the head. It gave a short yelp and paused. Another shot struck it, and then Frank, snatching the water net from Charlie, threw himself over the hedge, and placed himself between the child and the dog just as the latter, with a savage growl, rushed at him.
"Blowguns," Pedro answered. "They use them for small or thin-skinned game. See, the two blowgun men carry also short darts in their quivers, and small pouches of poison." "Uh-huh. They like their poison a dang sight better 'n I do. Say, are them guys goin' to march behind us? I don't want no poison needles slipped into my back, accidental or other ways."
"I knew that thing didn't touch you," he said, "since you are still among the living. They've got a poison on those blowgun darts that takes all of twelve seconds to work. Lucky." Lucky! Brion was beginning to realize just how lucky he was to be out of the trap alive. And with information.
"I’ve never been on Venus." "It’s the way the water-hole people fight," Koa explained. "They’re like a bunch of rubber balls when they get to fighting. They ram each other with their heads." Rip searched his memory for data on Venus. He couldn’t recall any mention of fleedling. Venusians, if his memory was right, had a sort of blowgun as a main weapon. He told Koa so. The sergeant-major nodded.
Parker's school at Deal, and if you will say what damage I have caused, I will pay for it." "You shall pay for it now," shouted the farmer, as he advanced with uplifted stick. Frank slipped three or four of his clay bullets into his mouth. "Leave us alone or it will be worse for you," he said as he raised the blowgun to his mouth.
Wherefore he chattered impudently down at them and, as the tall Indian guide halted, showed his teeth derisively. The savage grunted. The man behind him also grunted and lifted his blowgun. But the leader growled at him and the blowgun sank.
His bowmen and blowgun men, at last out of missiles, came charging in with bare hands or weapons seized from fallen warriors. Maneuvering had ended. Henceforth the fight was a grappling mêlée. Then the gunfire dwindled and died. The rifle cartridges were spent. The three soldiers flung down their hot, empty guns. "Nothin' left but the gats and the steel," rumbled Tim.
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