Explore "Dwellers in the Mirage" by Abraham Merritt on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The golden pygmies hissed; their yellow eyes were molten with hatred.
The little man touched my hand, talking in the rapid trilling syllables, and pointing over the white river. Clearly he was telling me we must cross it. He stopped, listening. The little woman ran down the broken stairs. The little man twittered angrily, darted to Jim, beat at his legs with his fists as though to arouse him, then shot after the woman.