The Project Gutenberg eBook of The red fetish
    
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The red fetish

Author: Frank Belknap Long

Illustrator: C. C. Senf

Release date: May 11, 2024 [eBook #73604]

Language: English

Original publication: Indianapolis, IN: Popular Fiction Publishing Company

Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FETISH ***





                            The Red Fetish

                      By Frank Belknap Long, Jr.

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                       Weird Tales January 1930.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


[Illustration: "They writhed in the sun like wounded snakes."]


Bill Cullen shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at the empty
skyline. His arms, as he stood in the glittering light, showed scraggy
and emaciated and his features were pinched and black. There had been
strong winds blowing and enormous seas thundering on the beach, and the
ferocity of the elements had accentuated his helplessness. He turned to
his companion with a gesture of despair.

"Look here," he said, "you know as well as I do that it is physically
impossible for us to hang on without water. What do you say to a swim?"

Bill's companion groaned and shook his head. He was a frightened,
nervous little man with pointed fox-like ears, and people who knew him
were prone to brand him a coward. His name, Wellington Van Wyck, did
not raise him in the estimation of his friends.

Bill studied regretfully the thing that Van Wyck had become. It was not
the lack of water that gave him discomfort. His sorrow lay in the fact
that Van Wyck did not possess a capacity for blind enthusiasm.

"It's only six miles," he urged.

"There are cannibals on that island," replied Van Wyck. "It's down on
the chart."

Van Wyck was a little wild and he imagined that cannibals tore
themselves to pieces over their ceremonies. Bill knew that cannibals
were decent and clean and orderly; but there was no explaining that to
Van Wyck. He dealt with him in another fashion.

"You're as weak and flabby and spineless as a jelly-fish with
rheumatism," said Bill. "You're so unsavory that the cannibals
wouldn't eat you. Why don't you kill yourself now, and be done with it?
'Twould be a good way to economize on food!"

Van Wyck scowled and sat down upon the beach. His eyes narrowed. "We
are safer here," he said. His lips were swollen and cracked and he
spoke in a thin, small voice. He assured Bill that he could survive
without luxuries. He said that two men could go three days on one pint
of water, and that in three or four days anything might happen.

Nothing did happen. The three days went by like great white birds at
sea, and the merciless glare of the sun made life a perfect misery.
Bill looked grim. He squatted on the sands and watched the pale blue
water foaming and bubbling in the lagoon, and his eyes glittered. Once
he turned to Van Wyck and laughed. "It has green eyes," he said. "I saw
it watching us on the beach. It plays with the moon and its tentacles
are long and gelatinous!"

Sea water affects some men like hashish. That morning Bill had crawled
to the lagoon on his hands and knees and swallowed more salt than was
good for him. Van Wyck had warned him that it wasn't done, but Bill was
of the disbelieving sort.

Bill's clothes were in tatters, and he found no satisfaction in
contemplating the leanness of his wrists and ankles. Whenever he held
up his wrists for inspection they shook so violently that he let
himself be guided by sentiment and wept. His ankles were no wider than
broomsticks, and when he tried to walk he could hear them crack. He
didn't want to turn them, so he sat down and talked to Van Wyck. He
made an effort to be agreeable.

"I'll concede that the cannibals may eat us," he said. "There is always
that risk. But I don't see why they should; and it's only a six-mile
swim. If we stay here I can't trust myself."

Van Wyck recoiled and his under lip trembled. Bill laid a merciful
hand upon his emaciated shoulder. "There isn't anything that I want to
keep from you," he said. "I'll tell you the truth. For three days I've
been planning to kill you. I lay awake last night and watched you. I
thought: 'This thirst--this dreadful thirst'--_he_ would put an end to
it!"

Van Wyck shivered, and tears ran down his face and dampened his brittle
red beard. His small blue eyes dilated with horror. Hot shame flushed
red over his throat and ears. "But you wouldn't really eat me?" he
moaned.

"I don't know," replied Bill. "That's why I suggest the swim. It's six
miles and we're atrociously weak; but anything to keep from thinking of
_that_!"

Bill knew that Van Wyck understood and sympathized. Van Wyck had a
knife, which he kept hidden, but in his sleep he frequently took it out
and felt the edge of it. Bill had been very much horrified, and he had
not pretended to misunderstand the expression on Van Wyck's face. There
was something brazen in Van Wyck's affrightment when he discovered that
two could play the same sinister game.

The sun was setting and a few gray wisps of clouds were fleeing like
flakes of snow across the blue sky. A single gull careened and dipped
far out in the tumbling black immensity of ocean. A great silence had
fallen upon the atoll, and the stubborn struggle between the two men
drew to an issue before the first wild rush of stars. Van Wyck felt
unsafe in the presence of Bill Cullen, and he made no effort to conceal
his fear.

"Let's get away from here as quickly as possible," he pleaded. "You
were right. Six or seven miles isn't a long swim. If we strip, we can
make it."

Bill extended his hand. It was like a dead thing, but Van Wyck seized
it and wrung it warmly. His voice quivered. "It isn't a long swim, old
fellow," he repeated.

Bill made a grimace. "It might rain," he said.

"It won't rain," responded Van Wyck.

That settled it. They spent the evening getting ready. They hid their
anguish in a bustle of preparation. Bill scurried about and secured
three clams. The unfortunate bi-valves were devoured with immoderate
ferocity. Even their stiff, rubber-like necks afforded grist for the
mill of Van Wyck's teeth. It grieved Bill to see the shells go to
waste. They sat down and congratulated themselves for the first time
in a week. The clams seemed to make their situation less hopeless, but
they did not on that account decide to remain on the island. Their
thirst was abnormal and monstrous. It was not a thing to be talked
about.

       *       *       *       *       *

They managed to get some sleep; but they awoke with their throats on
fire. The game that they had played was over. But they avoided the
thought of their new plan as much as possible, since they did not want
the possibility of fatal consequences to look them in the face.

A chill in the atmosphere generally preceded the customary heat of the
day; and the coldness now seemed unusually severe. They got together a
few sticks and built a fire. The sun had not yet risen, but the island
was immersed in the ghostly gray light of early dawning. They saw
everything vividly. The boulders on the beach seemed alive. A light
wind furred the steel-gray sea with tiny ripples.

"We mustn't waste time," said Van Wyck. It was obvious that his dread
of Bill had grown in the night. Bill's threat had taken complete
possession of his shriveled, selfish little brain. His teeth chattered
over the fire and he planned a thousand assaults on the man beside him.
His fingers clutched frantically at the knife which he kept hidden;
but he lacked the stomach for malicious manslaughter. He feared that
his cowardice might betray him into a false or dangerous move, and he
endeavored to conquer his hysteria with loud boasts.

"It was all poppycock, our worrying about the cannibals," he announced.
"The thing for us to do is to put on a bold front. They'll make gods of
us!"

In the present condition of his mind these words produced a curious
effect on Bill. He waved his arms wildly, and swore at the sky. "Yes,"
he shouted, "they'll do that. But sometimes they're not satisfied
with a living man. They're head-hunters, you know. They have a way of
removing the skull from a man's head, and drying it up, and worshiping
it. They have a predilection for red hair and beards. When they find
both on one head they go wild."

Bill looked directly at Van Wyck. The latter could scarcely stand. He
was swaying hysterically back and forth and running his fingers through
his bristling red beard. "Perhaps I could shave it off before we
start," he wailed.

"With what?" demanded Bill.

"With the clam shells," cried Van Wyck, dejectedly seeking to grasp
some straw that would save his head.

"I refuse to permit it," said Bill. "It's time we started. It wouldn't
be pleasant to swim in the full glare of the sun."

They stripped and rolled their clothes into neat, round balls. Somehow
it did not seem right to abandon them helter-skelter on the beach. They
had a vague idea that they might return for them. They deposited them
gingerly beneath the one coco palm, and walking solemnly to the water's
edge they scowled into the clouded mirror of sea before them.

       *       *       *       *       *

The water was like ice, and Bill shivered and stood on one foot. "Walk
right in," said Van Wyck. "The cannibals expect us!" His smile was
ghastly and indescribable. The blue veins stood out on his scrawny
neck, and his forehead was covered with globules of perspiration.

Bill was the first to go into deep water. Van Wyck stood with the icy
current swirling about his ankles, and watched him wade out until he
stood waist-deep. Bill turned and looked back reproachfully. "You're
coming, aren't you?" Bill's disdain and distrust of Van Wyck were
forgotten in a momentary need for companionship.

As Van Wyck stood with the cold water numbing his toes he had an
irrational desire to turn back and run wildly up the beach, and to
stay on the island until thirst finished him off. The risk of the
swim seemed suddenly displeasing to him. A mist passed rapidly before
his eyes; he ran his fingers through his hair and gulped. But when he
saw the pitiful, hurt expression on Bill's face he put aside unworthy
thoughts. "I'm coming, Bill," he said.

He walked forward until the water eddied and swirled about his chin.
His face was hideously drawn and his eyes bulged, but a forlorn ray
of sunlight filtered through the clouds and played about his head,
bringing out its latent manliness.

"It's deep, out there," said Bill.

They both lurched forward. The sudden loss of footing accentuated
Bill's weakness, and he went under. He felt that his arms and legs were
incapable of sustaining him, and he wondered if Van Wyck would try to
save him.

He came up and struck out, his mouth full of water. The salt burned his
throat and he swallowed. The water went into his stomach. He shivered.
The sun beat mercilessly down upon his naked body.

He swam boldly, with a brief sense of triumph. He had conquered his
physical weakness. He knew that his strength might not last, but
the thought that he had not depended upon Van Wyck gave him secret
satisfaction.

He could see Van Wyck's red head on the water several yards ahead of
him. The little wretch had evidently made good use of his legs and
arms. "Slow up, Van Wyck!" he shouted.

"I don't dare to!" Van Wyck called back. "If I stop I might sink. And
think how deep it is!"

Bill resented Van Wyck's reminder. "If you don't ease up," he shouted,
"you'll surely go down. This isn't an athletic contest!"

"It is," cried Van Wyck. "It's the greatest ever--even if there are
head-hunters at the goal. I advise you to talk to me. It keeps me from
thinking. If I think I shall go down."

But Bill did not feel like talking. The water was cold and he had no
stomach for repartee. He felt the chill of the depths beneath in his
nude limbs. He swallowed great quantities of sea water. He knew that
he might suffer eventually, but he did not care. He wanted to reach
the island. He had never shared Van Wyck's dread of cannibals, and the
thought of the island, with its crystal-clear springs and refreshing
fruits, was a precious balm to him.

He wondered if Van Wyck would survive him. The latter was swimming with
frightful rapidity, leaving him definitely in the lurch. Bill envied
and pitied his little companion. Van Wyck might survive to view the
island, with its green, welcome frondage--but would he ever reach it?

Bill had an uncomfortable suspicion that he might sink. His initial
courage threatened to give out. A mounting hysteria surged through his
brain. He closed his eyes and tried not to think. There was nothing
before him but a limitless stretch of malachite sea. He was fascinated
and horrified by his isolation. A cold, brilliant sun blinded his eyes
and dried up the sap of life in him. The water seemed to thicken, and
he had great difficulty in moving his arms and legs.

       *       *       *       *       *

Bill never knew how he reached the island. For a starving, emaciated
man to swim seven miles is tremendous, and deserves some reward. Like
most valiant men, Bill was conscious of his own worth. When he sighted
the island he said nothing, but he thought: "This is only just. I have
paid the price, and I deserve this."

He had also caught up with Van Wyck. The awful glare in the despairing
eyes that Van Wyck turned upon him told of a fatigue immeasurable and a
desire for water that had passed the bounds of sanity. Van Wyck's eyes
were living pools of liquid fire. His voice was hoarse and rasping, and
he turned over and over in the water; and twice his head went under.

They were horribly near when they sighted the cannibals. Van Wyck saw
them first. He was puffing and wailing, and he had been swimming on his
back, and when he turned over and sighted them his face took on the
aspect of an open wound. His mouth became an awful gash in a grotesque,
streaked horror of countenance.

"Bill," he called hoarsely. "It's worse than we thought. There are
hundreds of 'em!"

Fixing his frightened and horrified eyes on the shore, Bill trod water,
and became suddenly very angry. The scene before him burned itself on
his brain, and robbed him of his victory. He felt that the fates had
taken an indecent advantage of him. His anger mounted, and flushed his
neck and throat. "Damn their black hides!" he muttered.

A clamor and a stench arose from the rocks. The cannibals seemed to be
recovering from a drinking-bout. They writhed in the sun like wounded
snakes. Bill counted sixty or seventy. Their bodies were hideously
tattooed, and they wore monstrous shell rings through their ears and
noses. The women joined with the men in dancing and spitting venom. The
hubbub was deafening. Ages of savagery and blood had shaped them into
capering devils. They were all the more terrible because they had seen
other white men. Bill did not expect much from them. He confessed a
frank horror at the situation.

"If we only had something to give 'em," he groaned.

Van Wyck had somehow expected Bill to rally and come to his support.
He needed a moral prop and he noted with horror that Bill had lost his
solid, comforting manner. Van Wyck's lips were so dry that he could
scarcely get his tongue to shape words of rebuff.

"I don't like it," he finally blurted out. "They certainly mean
business. You might swim in and test 'em!"

"Don't be an ass!" roared Bill.

"All right, then. But if one of us doesn't swim in, both of us are
goners. And since I've never talked with savages I'm hardly the man.
You have a way with you. You could pacify a Java ape-man! Get 'em
laughing--tell 'em a funny story!"

Bill protested venomously. "Those cannibals aren't children," he
groaned. "You can't spoof 'em. This is serious business, Van Wyck."

Van Wyck refused to be convinced and he would have gone on urging Bill
to commit suicide to save his own precious skin if something had
not made all conversation ridiculous. They both saw it at the same
time. They looked at each other and said nothing. Then Van Wyck began
frantically swimming toward the rocks.

The fin divided the water into two glassy walls. As it passed along it
turned the dark surface to shining quicksilver. Bill had barely grasped
the meaning of it when something touched his ankles and he knew that
the water was infested. He gave a sudden, defiant shriek.

But the sharks did not molest him. They made straight for Van Wyck.
They approached in vicious circles, and Bill saw the whites of their
stomachs through the dark green water. The mouth of the largest opened
and closed; and then there followed a clashing of teeth that sounded
like the clanging to of iron-clad portcullises.

Once the horrible gray back of the fish showed above the surface, and
glittered lethally in the sun, and Bill knew that Van Wyck was done
for. Van Wyck was almost near enough to the rocks to climb them, and he
might reasonably have pushed the shark off with his foot, but Bill knew
that he wouldn't. Bill knew that Van Wyck was as good as eaten, and he
thought: "That shark will hardly be content with Van Wyck alone!"

A dozen fins intersected on the surface and occasionally one of the
ravenous monsters would jump clear of the water in its eagerness to
taste satisfying human flesh.

The sight got in under Bill's skin and hurt. He closed his eyes, and
endeavored to think of the grinning, leering savages on the rocks. The
sharks made frantic dashes at Van Wyck and came away with something in
their mouths. They would rush forward, their great jaws would snap--and
there would be less and less of Van Wyck.

Bill was unable to keep his eyes shut. He tried to cover them with
his hands, but then he would go under and get an extra mouthful of
salt water. He came up gasping, and saw that the sea was streaked with
crimson.

As the sharks darted away from Van Wyck they left dark red trails
behind them. Bill heard Van Wyck's screams distinctly, although the
latter had reached a point where screams seemed futile. They became
less and less coherent. Perhaps Van Wyck realized the absurdity of
protest. Perhaps he realized that all things eventually work together
for the best. Certainly the cannibals would have treated him worse. It
is not pleasant to be boiled in oil or hacked to pieces with little
knives.

Bill saw the last of Van Wyck disappear in the maw of an enormous
shark. The water turned a deeper red, and for a moment the sky and sea
and even the naked, gesticulating savages seemed bathed in a crimson
aura. It may have been an optical illusion, since Bill's eyes had
ceased to function with clarity. Bill knew that the sharks would look
about a bit after finishing Van Wyck, and the thought gave him no
satisfaction. "You're next on the list," he told himself.

But somehow the sharks seemed satisfied with poor Van Wyck. Perhaps
they found Van Wyck so unsavory that they did not care to risk tackling
another of the same breed. They circled about for a few minutes after
the last of Van Wyck had disappeared, and then they passed solemnly
eastward, their fins glistening in the brilliant sunlight.

Meanwhile Bill trod water and shuddered when he thought of Van Wyck.
But he didn't let himself think of Van Wyck much after that. Van Wyck,
he argued, was no longer in need of sympathy. "It is the living who
have to suffer," he thought. It was patent that he could enjoy no
security in waters infested with man-eating sharks.

He shouted with delight when he discovered that the cannibals had
disappeared from the rocks. He was forcefully tempted to swim in and
take advantage of his amazing good fortune. But he thought better of
that when he calmly considered the nature of cannibals. They were
probably waiting behind the rocks for him to swim in, and he didn't
care to be boiled in oil when there were sharks to make a quicker,
cleaner job of it.

He decided to attempt to round the island. His ability to keep afloat
amazed and frightened him. He had evidently drawn upon some reserve
strength that nature had hitherto wilfully concealed. Destiny had
played him a new hand. He secretly congratulated himself, although he
continued to curse fate for the cannibals.

       *       *       *       *       *

He got around the island somehow. The current set to at the northern
end and he had some difficulty in surmounting the backwash of black
tidal water; but he finally reached a beach so clean and white and
refreshing that he shouted with boyish eagerness and gratification. He
swam in without reckoning consequences, for in his exultation he had
forgotten or overlooked the cannibals.

He would build a fire and warm himself, and he would eat nothing but
fruit. It needed but a momentary inspection to convince him that the
island contained an excess of fruit. And there was water! A tiny
streamlet came out from the woods, between the boles of fabulously
ancient trees, and ran down the smooth white beach.

Bill swam in and clambered up the beach. He sat down under a hotoo
tree, an absurd horror of bones and wet, clinging sand. He was a living
scarecrow come out of the sea with the wisdom and weariness of ancient
ocean upon him. He could scarcely open and close his thick, black
lips. His sun-baked skin was drawn painfully taut over his protruding
ribs.

A steady surf was crashing on the beach, and he paused while he
listened to the roar of the breakers. He reposed for a time; then he
got up, and a peal of wild laughter came from between his swollen lips.
He had won out! He had hoodwinked the cannibals and sharks! In that
blazing crystal world of sunlight and water he came to life again.

The sun dried him. He gulped up gallons of water from the tiny
streamlet. It was fresh and clear. He was genuinely elated. The wind
swept in from the sea in great, steady gusts, and the flaffing breeze
whistled through his hair and under his armpits. He shouted and danced
in sheer joy. The cannibals, he assured himself, were on the other side
of the island. It was a large island, and he could hide. The chances
against him, he thought, were negligible.

He decided to look about for a hiding-place. He knew that in the vast
forest of tangled vegetation he would have no difficulty in achieving
utter concealment. He could hoard up fruits and coconuts and live
unmolested for days.

But when he turned he saw something peering from between the boles of
the distorted, antique trees that made him change his mind. He stood
still in the center of the beach, and stared, and presently he saw
black, hideous figures come forward into the clearing. Others appeared
crawling toward him on their hands and knees. He realized then the
absurdity of attempting any sort of concealment.

He stood stark still while the cannibals advanced toward him across the
smooth, white sands. He began to envy Van Wyck. He knew too much about
savages. He had that and his imagination to blame for the little hell
that he endured. How could he guess that they did not want revenge? A
savage considers everything an insult. He knew that he should not have
landed upon their infernal island. He wanted to apologize to them, and
to make them understand. He had no desire to lord it over them, and he
admitted to himself that he had deliberately injured their sense of
dignity.

At first he thought that they intended to make short work of him. They
looked sinister. There were three dozen of them in the guard of honor
that advanced toward him across the beach and he did not like their
faces. Their faces were black and swollen and ugly and incredibly
tattooed, and their cheeks were smeared with green and blue paint. One
of them paraded a discarded panama hat. Bill could not imagine where
he had obtained the hat. The wretch had probably repaid the owner by
boiling him in oil. It was quite the thing twenty years ago to burn
traders and missionaries in oil, although the custom has been outgrown
among respectable savages. But the hat looked at least twenty years
old. And one of the devils smoked a corncob pipe! They were tall,
solemn-looking cusses, and Bill did not pretend to like them.

But when they got close to him they formed a circle, shutting him off
from the sea, and he felt then that everything was worse than he had
anticipated. When cannibals begin forming into rings it is customary
to give up hope. They were grinning hideously and Bill could count the
number of teeth in the rings which they wore about their necks.

Some of the leanest and tallest wore thirty or forty teeth. And Bill
knew that a savage never wears more than one tooth from a single head.
It is not considered decent. And each tooth means--but Bill never wept
over spilt milk. He felt that his own head was in imminent danger, and
the knowledge annoyed and frightened him. But he did not dare let
on that he feared them, and he stood up very stiff and straight, and
scowled into their narrow, blood-shot eyes.

They seemed to resent his hostility. It seemed to hurt them, and Bill
was amazed at the hint of reproach in their glances. A cannibal is
something of a gentleman, and he would not deliberately hurt a man's
feelings for the world. And Bill's resentment somehow seemed an insult
to their hospitality. Bill understood how they felt, and he realized
that he had behaved like a boor. But his teeth were knocking together
like billiard balls, and a stern front was necessary.

But he could not look his captors in the face. They came close to
him, and then one of them stepped forward and patted him on the back.
He spoke and Bill understood him. Bill knew nearly all of the Bantu
languages, and the savage spoke a corruption of several.

"We thank our brother for the very fine gift," he said. "We are indeed
grateful!"

Although Bill could understand what the black devil said a reply was
utterly beyond him. The grammatical construction of Bantu overwhelmed
him. Bill kept his mouth shut and stared, pretending not to understand.

The spokesman turned and beckoned. A tall, lean youth with protruding
yellow teeth came quickly forward. Save for a slight hint of pity
in his small eyes his face bore no expression. He held in his right
hand a large, round object which Bill did not immediately recognize.
The spokesman nodded and took the object by its hair. He stroked it
effusively, calling upon it to protect and succor him in war and in
peace. He begged that the object's pity and benevolence would extend
to the whole tribe. He praised the object in terms that would have
embarrassed any living man. Then he turned to Bill and made a very low
bow. "It came ashore before you," he said. "And we are most grateful!"

Bill opened his eyes wide with horror. He sought to express his agony
in words, but no sound came from between his black, swollen lips. A
sudden shriek would perhaps have saved him, and Bill tried hard to make
a sound in his throat. But his horror lay too heavily upon him. He made
a wild, horrid gesture with his right arm and collapsed in a heap upon
the sand.

Three months later Bill was taken off by a trading-sloop. He blabbered
idiotically about the right of a head to decent burial and made
uncomplimentary allusions to the wearing of teeth. He evidently sought
to stir up anger against the cannibals, but the traders ignored his
insinuations, since he was obviously mad and since the cannibals had
worshiped him and given him the run of the island. The memory of Van
Wyck's encrimsoned head had addled his wits.





*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED FETISH ***


    

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.


START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
    other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
    whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
    of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
    at www.gutenberg.org. If you
    are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
    of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
  
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:

    • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
        the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
        you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
        to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
        agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
        within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
        legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
        payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
        Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
        Literary Archive Foundation.”
    
    • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
        you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
        does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
        License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
        copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
        all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
        works.
    
    • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
        any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
        electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
        receipt of the work.
    
    • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
        distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
    

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.