I believed she would. I intended to wait, whatever might occur, and to wait until morning, if she did not sooner appear. A thousand times I wished we were already in my boat and away on the lake.
“All these days gone to waste for a bear-skin,” I muttered, “and all the time it was easy to sneak into their place under their very noses.”
I was glad now, however, of the warmth of the skin, for the ground was moist. In the clearing the night had descended like a curtain, but five or six fires somewhat illumined the place. The scene presented was strange. About the centres of ruddy light were groups of these weird, semi-human creatures, standing and squatting, eating like so many apes. Their long, thin arms made their appearance most grotesque, silhouetted as they were against the light. Here and there the red glow lighted up a negro-gorilla countenance, flat-nosed, big-jawed and large-eared, till it seemed like a region where the imps of darkness breed. And back of all this, the play of the flames threw monster shadows, on the background of trees and creepers, till it all had a strange appearance of life, as if incredible snakes and incongruous animals weaved an endless woof of mystery into the warp of night.
An hour passed and I had hardly moved. By groups the creatures slunk away to their huddling places. The groans of many wounded, unnoted before in the chatter, arose to chorus with the distant sounds of the jungle. Regularly, like a marker of time, came the rumble and grumble from the cauldron of gold.
Around the largest fire, a grim old warrior hovered for an interminable time, after all the others had departed. I had no patience with his pretence of cogitating over all the problems of the universe; I wished him safely abed and snoring. He pothered about for an age, and finally stretched himself near the embers and went to sleep.
I waited and waited, expecting every moment to be rewarded by a vision of the prisoner, gliding toward me. The moon arose above the trees behind me and made the place altogether too bright for any good. To allay my impatience I watched the matchless orb sailing above the jungle. Turning at last from the brilliant picture, my heart leaped wildly. The goddess was almost there!
Slipping quickly, but noiselessly forth, I emerged from the vines on hands and knees and started to arise.
The girl gave a scream and fled like a startled doe.
“Don’t be scared,” I half shouted, guardedly, “it’s only a skin,” but my assurance was then too late.
On the instant the Blacks bounded up, alert and alarmed. Club in hand, the grim old fighter near the fire came running toward me. The shadows were with us, by great good fortune. The girl, moreover, had the presence of mind to disappear in the trees and emerge further up toward her shelter.
Realising that now or never I must act my part, I fell on all fours like a plummet. Browsing about unconcernedly, I moved a little in the grass at the edge of the growth, and then, having made myself sure that I had been seen by the Links who came dashing excitedly up, I slowly rooted back into the thicket and disappeared.
It worked like magic. Chattering a lot of drivel which was plainly eulogistic of all the bear family and congratulatory to all the black Links in existence—who had thus been honoured in the night—the savages kow-towed on the ground and otherwise wrote themselves down as unmitigated asses for a longer period by far than they need have done for my satisfaction. Indeed it began to look as if they had taken a notion to spend the remainder of the night in adoration of the ground I had condescended to spurn with my hands and knees. When at last I heard them go, I crept silently back to the edge of the growth and watched them stir up the fire and blunder off to bed.
“Confound the skin!” I muttered to myself. “Why didn’t I tell her what a beastly old bear I am?”
Such a time now went by that I began to fear the girl had missed my hurried explanation, in her natural fright, when she ran. However, it did not seem possible she would give up so easily and be afraid to come. Yet I knew it all depended upon her condition of mind. She had doubtless become more than usually timid while subjected to all that she must have undergone here among the Links, all alone, and no human being could entirely eliminate a feeling of dread for the jungle in the dark.
Trusting that in all the medley of night-sounds, a whistle would not awaken the Links, I set up my piping on the bar of our Yankee acquaintance again, repeating it, as before, as often as I deemed it prudent. More of the endless waiting, in my far from enviable position, ensued. If the moon got another half hour in which to sail before the prisoner came, she would drive every friendly shadow squarely back to the forest.
I watched till my neck was stiff and my body cramped. “If the goddess doesn’t hurry,” I muttered, “the game will be up for the night.” Still she lingered in her shelter. I began to grow cross; I vowed she must be crimping her hair and putting on a new pair of gloves.
Suddenly she appeared again, coming out of the trees, not far away. This time I whistled, ever so softly. She paused, came silently on a rod, and halted as before. Another little whistle brought her almost before me.
“Now please don’t yell again,” I whispered ungallantly. “Slip into the woods as quietly as you can—we’ve got to hurry.”
“Who is it?” she stopped to answer, below her breath, as I rose to my feet.
“It’s just John Nevers, a common, ordinary man—American. If we’re going to get away, I wish you wouldn’t fool around another minute.”
I saw that she stood undecided a second, with that evil-looking snake about her shoulders; its eyes gleamed like beads in a ray of moonlight which touched on its hateful head. For that brief space of time I felt such a disgust for the serpent and such a growing impatience, that I had a half impulse to trudge away alone. But she moved toward me; the light which had fallen on the head of the snake silvered her pale, beautiful face. The appeal which was there in her eyes, the trust which was born on the moment, and the helplessness of a maiden, all combined to shame me and to make me her champion against the terrors of all the world.
“Come through here,” I whispered, bending back a branch, and she stepped toward me, confident and strong in the hope newly kindled in her breast.
The branch slipped from my fingers and swished noisily back. I heard a snort; the light-sleeping old devil of a Link was up on his feet in a second. He ran toward us again, this time unaccompanied by any of the others. We stood there as silent as statues. My knife was out, for I had instantly determined to slay this watch-dog of the tribe, if he came a foot into the brush.
He merely whined about, uneasily, a time, and then returned to his post. Without waiting to let him lose himself in sleep, I led and cleared the way, moving as slowly as a frozen tortoise, for a considerable time, while the goddess followed, as silently as my shadow.
Past the clearing, where the gilded skeleton hung in the moonlight we glided. Here I saw the stiffened form of Grin, lying stark on the earth. The deep, mysterious rumble of the gold-cauldron began anew.
“Now hurry, while this racket drowns out all the noise we can make,” I whispered.
We made no mean bit of progress while the noise continued, after which I felt there was no more need of particular care. The jungle thickets were fearfully dark, as soon as we got away from the clearings, and I was obliged to forge ahead as best I could, guided only by my sense of direction.
Half an hour went by and although we should have been at the river, where the boat was on the bank, there was no immediate prospect of our coming to the proper place. In the midst of my efforts, mental and physical, to extricate myself and the girl from the maze, a peculiar shriek went up in the distance behind us. I paused, inquiringly.
“Oh—that is the voice of the horrid old woman,” said the goddess anxiously. “I think she has found I have gone.”
“The deuce!” said I. “She has alarmed the whole works, the old villain!”
Judging by the noise which was raised one would have thought she had awakened the whole world. I was certain every Link in the camp was up and dancing about that clearing in the wildest confusion.
“Come ahead,” said I, calmly enough, “they are all afraid of the woods at night; they will never catch us now—unless the morning overtakes us before we reach the river.”
I knew she shuddered, but like a brave, good girl she made no fuss. As for the racket, it furnished me with a bearing, as it were. Knowing where their settlement was, I knew the approximate direction in which the boat should be found. Indeed before we had travelled another fifty yards I caught a gleam of reflected moonlight from Outlet river and knew my way directly.
“It’s lucky that beastly old woman didn’t make her discovery sooner,” said I.
“Yes,” replied the trembling voice of the goddess, “that was why I kept you waiting so long; she wouldn’t go to sleep.”
“Um,” was all I muttered. I was thinking about that crimping of her hair, poor girl, and the putting on of tight, new gloves.
We reached the boat, to my intense relief. “Please get in and make yourself as comfortable as possible,” said I, and ripping off the bear-skin, I flung it down to make her a seat.
Out into the limpid stream I shoved my clumsy but beloved craft, and manning the oars I swung her about, headed her toward the lake and made the liquid silver shiver from the prow.
The moonlight fell on the sweet, womanly face. The goddess looked at me dumbly—almost with the divine expression I had seen on the face of little Tike. Her eyes were eloquent of gratitude, relief and things too great to be expressed. Slowly her head came forward on her breast, away from which she held that ugly serpent, and she sobbed and sobbed like a child.
Ah what a night it was! I felt a throb of triumph all through my veins. Rowing steadily and stoutly I said nothing, but let her have her cry. At last she looked upon my face again.
“Where—are we—going?” she faltered.
“Home,” said I, “to the camp on top of the hill.”
“Home?” she echoed softly. “To your—people, do you—mean?”
“Yep,” I agreed. “For a while, at least. But they’re not exactly my people. They’re a lot of Missing Links.”
“Oh—what? Missing Links? You don’t mean things like the horrible creatures we have just escaped?”
“Same species,” I assured her cheerfully, “but mine are red.”
“Oh—oh,” she moaned with a shudder, “but I’d rather not! Oh I hate them so; they are all so horrid; they frighten me terribly, and I know they will act exactly like the others—”
“No they won’t,” I interrupted, with a grin, “they’ll get off the earth, if I say the word, for they know that I am the King!”
The pull was a long one, even in the cool of the night. I knew my way, by the stars, if necessary, but the moonlight made my steering easy.
For half an hour the goddess was silent, sighing now and again, and crying a bit, as if deliverance had broken down some barrier to all her emotions, letting floods of pent up feelings free at once.
“It doesn’t seem possible,” she told me finally.
“What doesn’t?” said I, though I knew very well what she meant.
“This boat,” she answered, “and you—a man—in this terrible place. It doesn’t seem really true that I have escaped from those awful creatures; I didn’t believe I should ever get away. Oh, how did you do it?”
“Perhaps you’d better tell me first how you got there,” I made answer. “How long have you been in the place?”
“I—don’t know,” she faltered. “It must be months and months. I lost all account, but it seems like an age. I didn’t seem to care about the dates, there have been such lots of awful things to think of all the while. What month is it now?”
“Lord bless you, that’s more than I know,” I admitted shamelessly. “I couldn’t keep track; things have been too hot. I should say, though, it’s probably getting along toward summer.”
Although she was deeply concerned with herself and all the troubles which for long she had endured, she realised that I too had been lost in this land of jungle. She made me tell my story first. I boiled it down to the bones, being anxious to hear how it was she came to be there. This she told me, brokenly, before we landed from the boat.
She was a cosmopolitan sort of a girl, born and raised in Australia, educated partially in England and partially in Massachusetts. Her father was an Englishman, a scientist, her mother American, of fine old Puritan stock. This mother had died in Sydney. The father and daughter having spent much of their time together, had grown to be great companions. She had long been interested in all his work, in which she had learned to be of great assistance. Thus it came about that when he determined to visit certain of the smaller Banyac Islands, for the purpose of collecting flora and fauna for preservation, she accompanied him as a matter of course. From a private steam yacht, placed at the professor’s disposal, and also from the coast settlements, the two had made daily excursions, in a ship’s yawl in which they could make a careful survey of all the shore.
Engaged in their work, one warm afternoon, they had moored the yawl among a lot of weed-covered rocks. This had been accomplished by securing the painter to one of the oars and wedging this oar down between a pair of boulders. The tide was ebbing when they landed.
In a short time her father had secured a medium-sized anaconda, which having recently fed, was dull and half asleep. This serpent he had given to his daughter, who carried it back to the boat and nailed it in a box provided for any such emergency. Feeling slightly fatigued and unenthusiastic she had then sat down in the yawl, raised her sun-shade and taken out a book to read.
She described the soporific effect of the heat and the lapping of the water about the boat, which had begun soon to affect her senses when she had settled down to rest. Before she knew it she had gone fast asleep. She believed that finally the tide had risen and floated the oar from between the rocks. Then doubtless a breeze had sprung up and the boat had been drifted away.
“Anyway I know I must have slept for hours.” she said, “but when I did wake up—oh dear! The sky was black, and I couldn’t see any island, or anything but water, and a terrible storm was coming, and the darkness was all about me, and then—well, it was simply the awfullest wind in the world that commenced to blow!”
The storm which she now described had probably been a regular monsoon. It lasted for hours, she said, and the yawl was driven wildly about on the angry sea. Like many a yawl, this craft had been broad of beam and it was therefore as seaworthy as a life-belt. It had ridden like a duck throughout the night.
When at last the light returned, the girl had found herself stranded in a singular place. Not a sign could she see of the ocean, but the yawl had been driven inland on what had appeared to be a great lagoon. This water-way, the edges of which were bordered thickly with a dense, jungle-like growth, had become as calm as a mill-pond.
While she still sat in the boat she had suddenly discovered a score of “horrid black brutes” descending upon the place. She had found the task of pushing off to be quite beyond her strength, in addition to which she had been so bewildered as not to know in the least where she had arrived. The creatures—the Black Missing Links—had appeared of threatening aspect, yet she had soon been made to realise that they were delighted to see her among them and that all regarded herself as a prize belonging to the tribe.
With her snake, of which they had immediately manifested a fear, she had followed where these monsters led, although unwillingly. They had given her food, but they had appeared to have no thought or consideration of her weakened condition, nor even of the fact that she was a woman and therefore not as strong as themselves. In consequence of this, she had been obliged to march through the jungle till nearly ready to drop from sheer weariness of body. Her clothing had been torn to tatters on the brush; her shoes had been all but ruined, and her flesh had been scratched and bruised.
“That is all there is to tell,” she concluded. “It has been a horrid, desperate existence ever since. The monsters have never been cruel, but I have been burned in the sun, and I have shivered in the rain and chill of night. I have been trembling at the thought of some terrible death, and then praying that I might really die and end all the wretched horror. I couldn’t tell where I was,—you say you don’t even know yourself,—and day and night I have been in a condition of dread bordering on insanity. It has all been so terribly hopeless—so loathsome. Oh how I have suffered! And that horrible old woman has watched me like a hawk, and I couldn’t have escaped if I had tried, and I didn’t know where to get a boat, and I couldn’t make anything—not even clothes,—and the horrid female creatures stole nearly all I had left, and I didn’t even have a needle, or a piece of soap, or a toothbrush!”
“Perhaps I could make you a comb,” I suggested, to drive away her dreadful thoughts, if possible, but she appeared not to hear.
“Poor Papa,” she resumed, “I don’t know what he ever thought, or where he is, or anything about anything.”
“Oh well,” said I, “we’ll soon be getting away from here now, and perhaps the trip will turn out pretty well after all. You’ll probably be at home in a month, forgetting all about this expedition to the land of Missing Links.”
She shook her head, the wild look in her eyes came back. “That is too good a dream to come true,” she said. “It doesn’t seem as if we can ever get away,—but oh, Mr. Nevers—I do hope you will never let them get me back,—oh if only you will take me away—if only you will!” and again she broke down and sobbed, as if it had been a thousand times too much to bear.
“I’ll do it or bust!” I assured her with much enthusiasm. “I couldn’t say more than that if I tried. We’ll come out all right, don’t you worry.”
None of my Links fell dead at the sight of the goddess and myself, when at last we were “home,” but that was merely because they were too uncivilised to have any nerves. The poor creatures contracted headache over the wonder of it all, however, for it utterly surpassed their powers of speculation.
I think they were much more frightened of the captive snake than they had been at my explosions. For this I blamed them not at all, having been rendered somewhat creepy by the beastly reptile myself. It was much too weird a pet. I was not so indelicate as to mention my feelings on the subject to the goddess, but I did hope the abominable thing would die, or get away.
Poor old Fatty was dizzy with concern. For two whole days he could not have told whether he was afoot or horseback. He was even suspicious of myself. All the child-like creatures seemed to regard me with added awe, as if it were hopeless to attempt to solve the problem of the magic by which I produced the snake-charming woman. They regarded the boat and the lake with more suspicion than before. A strangeness grew upon them; they stood away in groups, speaking a monosyllable now and again; they stirred uneasily about, whenever the girl appeared.
Yet remarkably soon the females of the tribe began to note, with curiosity, the costume worn by this stranger. Madame Albino assumed sundry airs with small delay. She also attempted to clothe her precious self with various skins; she eyed the interloper with comical disdain; she likewise looked at me with unmistakable reproach in those pink, nervous optics of hers, as if she meant to say that she might have forgiven me before, but after this—never!
As for the girl herself, she was not exactly the same, when seen in the daylight. She still had glorious eyes and her soft chestnut hair would have been lovely, had it been combed or stabbed full of hardware to build it up in a psyche knot, but her nose was somewhat freckled, she was burned a lively red, as to face, neck, shoulders, arms and ankles, and her great anxiety had made her a trifle thin. Yet she was beautiful, I still maintain, for her features were fine, her poise splendid and her hands and feet exquisitely moulded. What was more, her countenance was lighted from within, by a charm as rare as it is divine; she was lovely in her nature; she was womanly—and women, true women, are beautiful forever! I nodded mentally and determined to continue to call her “the goddess.”
It being essential that we take some needed rest, before embarking for worlds unknown, I made my shelter as comfortable as facilities would permit, and abdicated in favour of the snake and the girl. However, my subjects dug me a new palace in short order. This I occupied in my customary regal state. I was obliged to construct a wicker bungalo for his snakeship, for it seemed the goddess grew weary of holding the monster at times, and yet wished to restrain him from his natural desire to mingle with the creepers. Also I furnished the beast with gastronomic delicacies of the season. He had a preference for squirrels, not even the skins of which were left for me.
I made some quiet preparations for the reception of our friends the Blacks, should they come in search of their former captive, but these consisted only of restringing the bows and furbishing up the feathers on our arrows. I knew the fighting force of the feudal foe to be reduced and in no wise able to cope with ours, wherefore I deemed extraordinary measures unnecessary. As a matter of fact, no Blacks appeared, which led me to doubt if they even guessed that the goddess could be harboured in our village.
Having recovered all my energies shortly, I thought the girl would be ready and anxious to leave without further delay. In consequence I began to lay in a stock of sun-dried meat, weapons and other things needful for the cruise to the ocean. It soon became evident, however, that the poor young woman had suffered so severe a depression of vital forces, in the long-continued strain of worry and physical anguish, that immediate departure was quite out of the question.
We had long, hopeful talks together, while I manufactured small trifles for her greater comfort, or brought her foods to cook at a small stone-and-clay stove which I managed to construct; and she often related the history of her days of trouble. She had been too deeply alarmed all the time to give much attention to studying her captors; however, she thought from what I told her that they must have a similar language to that employed by the Reds, and many similar habits. Their attitude toward herself had led her to believe that they actually had a great reverence for human beings.
Of the man who had evidently once been among them she knew but little. She had seen the skeleton, but had only been able to make the merest guesses as to how it came to be in such a place and in such a remarkable condition. She had also seen a linen collar, preserved by having fallen into a chink which kept it protected from the elements, and this indicated, she thought, that the man had been a clergyman. That he had produced certain effects upon the creatures, the results of which would endure, she had no doubt. Though they had no other weapons than their clubs, they appeared to be more fearless than my fellows. Any fishing operations which they might once have conducted, guided by the man, were now discontinued, she was sure, for she had never seen a fish in the camp. The dug-outs were in ruins, as I had thought, though some of the creatures employed them still for sleeping purposes. She did not believe they utilised any caves. Without telling her of my own theories of the gold cauldron, I questioned her sufficiently to convince myself that she knew nothing of its existence in the place.
About the fights and hunting expeditions of the tribe, she possessed only the most general information. She had not been able to ascertain what manner of enemies they encountered, but once had seen a wounded fellow striving to pull out of his leg a piece of wood which she now knew must have been an arrow. Also she had been aware that some tremendous calamity had befallen the fighters on their last crusade, for barely half the force had returned to camp, and of these many were shockingly wounded. Fully twenty, she said, had died and been buried since the day of the trouble. Beyond these few facts, the goddess told me very little which differed from the tale of the daily routine of my own loyal subjects.
In the boat, my bear-skin was concealed by a cover of leaves as before. I was thinking, one morning, of the various things I should take, when the moment for leaving should finally arrive, when the two great clubs—mine by right of conquest—thrust themselves upon my notice. The one which was made of the nugget appealed to my human spirit of acquisitiveness with great potency. Indeed the thing awakened a train of thought which bordered somewhat on the wild and not-too-wholesome. I found myself coveting my neighbour’s cauldron of gold.
Heretofore I had given the geyser cavern, where the precious metal was being deposited, not the slightest consideration. I had known of only one way to approach the place, namely, by the long passage, the end of which I might not be able to find, and which at best could only lead me to a point high above the place of treasure. I knew, also, that snakes abided in the passage and that getting gold up to the point where Fatty and I had been that day and then out through the tortuous tunnel was simply impossible, as a task. Even the nugget on the club—after the first inevitable thrill which I could not help feeling, to see it and know its worth,—had been no more to me than any rock, for what could it purchase in such a land as this?
But now—how things had altered! Not only did I feel the greatest confidence in my ability to pilot my boat away from that open prison, to a land where gold would be the “open sesame” to the whole world, but I knew of an opening—or thought I did—to the cave where the precious metal was lying ready to be had for the taking. It was a magic thought—an intoxicating dream. The precious deposit belonged to no one, for who were the Missing Links? I should do no injury to anyone by taking all I needed. And why should I not have some remuneration for all this exile, labour and suffering?
“Why,” said I, and half seriously at that, “a king simply has to be rich!”
The task seemed easy, as I dreamed of proceeding to the spot, taking what I wanted and then escaping with it as I had with the goddess. The idea expanded rapidly; it began to make me feverish. As usual, when I gave myself over to anything new, I forgot everything else about me. Even the goddess and her snake became of secondary importance; escape itself was indefinitely postponed. The premier question was, “When shall I do it?” I answered aloud:
“Why—to-day—to-night! What’s the use of waiting?”
Then it became imperative that I should formulate a plan. The bear-skin was the fundamental basis which gave me the courage to think of attempting the task. I knew how to manage in regard to that, as well as I knew how nicely it would work, if only the light were not too searching. What more might the work require? Obviously I should need a sack, in which to carry off the plunder; and I ought to have a pick or a sledge-hammer, or something in the way of a tool with which to detach the solid chunks of metal. For the sack, I decided to sew together some of the skins which were lying on the floor of my shelter. For tools I would carry a couple of the stoutest clubs to be had in the camp. In addition to these requisites, I could think of nothing I should need, except my weapons.
I lost no time in setting about the preparations for this financial venture. It seemed a pity to rob the goddess and her snake of the rugs on which they reclined at various times, in my dug-out, but there was nothing else to do. All the tribe-fellows’ clubs having proved themselves to be serviceable, I had no difficulty in selecting two which I deemed worthy of the great occasion.
Old Fatty had resumed his faithful attendance on my every movement and therefore he followed me down to the boat, carrying both of the clubs and the skins. He stood on the bank and watched me embark, more crazy than ever to go along, but still too frightened to trust himself afloat on the lake. I had no wish to have company. Bidding him “be good,” I pushed away and started on the expedition.
By the time I had finished the work of fastening the skins together, the afternoon was half gone. There was nothing to do, in the way of work which would occupy my time, and I felt no desire to get into the bear-skin prematurely, as I had done before, so that I was finally obliged to pull in my oars and drift idly on the water. This was a sleepy occupation. I nodded drowsily for half an hour, at the end of which time I fell fast asleep.
The sun was just disappearing when at last I awoke. Disgusted with myself, for having thus overdone the time-wasting business, I rowed rapidly for Outlet river, to which I came duly. Standing up in the boat I arrayed myself in my costume; then I worked slowly down the river, as before, and beached the boat in the spot where I had landed on the last successful venture.
Already the dusk made the forest gloomy, but as this was precisely what I wanted, I struck off without delay, picking a path cautiously through the growth. The neighbourhood seemed remarkably still, but finally the rumble from the cauldron disturbed the quiet and gave me a guide by which I corrected my course.
Laden as I was, with the necessary things for the labour, I should have presented a most amazing aspect, had any of the Blacks discovered my presence. I thought of that, and knew that even if I got down in the normal position of a bear, the juxtaposition of my bag and the clubs might easily arouse the most dangerous suspicions in the brain of any Link beholding them and me. However, nothing happened.
“Why this is going to be a pic-nic,” I muttered. “I couldn’t ask for anything nicer.”
Indeed fortune seemed to be smiling upon me, for I came immediately upon a continuation of the cliff of rock, which backed the camp of the Blacks, and was soon confronted by a jagged heap of stone and quartz, at the top of which appeared a dark, irregular cave. Before I could clamber up the pile to this opening, the mighty roar came belching forth. I knew I stood on the threshold of the cavern of wealth and wonder.
No sooner had the demonstration ceased than I hastened up the rock-heap to the cave. I found the mouth of the place somewhat choked and hard to enter, but I forced my way over massed-in boulders to a vestibule of the great treasure-house itself. Then suddenly my hopes were blighted and failure loomed before me. It was as dark as tar and I had clean forgotten to fetch a torch!
“But how could I have fetched a torch?” my brain demanded. I had no civilised matches; I could not have carried a brand all day, for the sake of having it now, and if I had, the smoke might have attracted the attention of the Blacks. Had they caught a bear with a torch in his hand they would unquestionably have desired an explanation. I thought of my knife, which was steel, and the flints on my arrows. Could I not produce a spark, ignite some tinder and then make some faggots take fire? Yes, I could, but the arrows were all in the boat and I had about as much tinder handy as a fellow could carry in his eye.
In desperation I groped ahead for a rod and nearly broke my neck, by jolting down an unseen step in the floor. It was useless to tackle the cavern in this inky blackness; I might easily get boiled to death by the fountain of scalding water. In bitter regret, I reproached myself for having come away from camp without consulting the goddess and without maturing my plans. But any ass should have known the place would be dark! I acknowledged that I was a fool, and that after all this bother I should have to give it up. Even if I did come again next day, it would be no easy matter to fetch a torch, and I might try a hundred times and not have the luck I had this evening in avoiding those villains, the Blacks.
More than ready to swear at my folly, mad as a hornet to think of abandoning all the gold, which was right there, almost within reach of my hands, I pinched myself viciously and groped my way out to the heap of rocks at the entrance.
Already a star was shining in the heavens. What good were stars, I would have liked to know. It was fire I wanted—fire at the end of a stick. A crazy idea of hunting for something highly inflammable, on which to try my flint and steel, tried to get started in my brain. I rejected the notion with scorn. I might as well begin a search for glow-worms or incandescent electric globes.
“Those fools of Links have got plenty of fire,” I grumbled, spitefully. “For about two cents I’d kick them all out of their camp and take all the torches I could carry.”
This bit of pleasantry somewhat restored my humour. I started up from where I was sitting on the rocks, abruptly, possessed of a great idea. Why not make the trick worth the winning; why not steal their fire to light myself in robbing their cave?
In my haste to clamber down from the pile, I fell forward and struck my hand smartly on something which felt like a collected lot of wood. I was ready to kick this thing, for bruising my fingers, when I comprehended that wood was exactly what I required. Grasping one of the branches I lifted a whole bundle of sticks, all dry, cut neatly of an equal length, and tied about with some sort of cord. Instantly I thought of the gilded skeleton—the man who had lived in this place. I believed he had come to the cavern often, and that doubtless these faggots had been gathered by himself for torches.
This discovery gave me new enthusiasm. I was calmer, also, and I therefore resolved to proceed carefully, do nothing rash, and to wait until the time was propitious before attempting to steal my fire. Nevertheless I was determined not to give up the game until flatly beaten. Much luck in the past had made me bolder than I was when I arrived in the country.
During the half hour following, I crept through the woods, toward the spot where I had waited for the goddess. I thought it would bring me bad luck to try any other location. My clubs and the sack, I had left at the cauldron, along with my bundle of wood. Thus I had nothing to impede my progress; but the skin in which I was clothed hampered every motion.
Throughout the jungle, various sounds had commenced, for the darkness was rapidly becoming that of full-fledged night. Through the trees, when I approached their clearing, I caught the gleam of the fires about which the Links were cooking their dinner.
Knife in hand, I edged and pushed through the creepers and vines until I dared go no further. From where I was, I could see very much the same sort of groups about the fires which had made the picture weird on the former occasion. But I was actually more excited and eager over the present enterprise than I had been before, when a fellow-being was in the game. Doubtless this arose from the greater risk I expected to take.
Impatient as I was, the Links seemed to require an interminable time to get ready for bed. I selected one and then another of the fires as the one from which I would filch a brand, but was finally obliged to wait and see which would be the most favourable to my task. I desired to select the one furthest from the sleeping places, and yet not too far from my cover. The one first abandoned by the Links would have answered well. I watched it narrowly and kept an eye on the Blacks, who were still lingering about. Long before the fellows had all retired, the fire became hopeless, so few were the embers left aglow. I was obliged to fix upon another.
I waited all of two hours, by the end of which time the Links were all safely asleep, save that watchful old fiend whose acquaintance I had made on my former visit. When at length he laid himself down for the night, his position was such that my intended deed had been rendered far more difficult than I had expected. It became necessary for me to make a long detour, for I deemed it wise that I should be able to make a bee-line for cover the second I procured my bit of fire.
In crawling and walking carefully about the tangle, I consumed a lot of time. My position then was such that by creeping bear-like from the vines and going straight for my original hiding place, I would pass the remains of a fire, in which only one or two blazing pieces of wood remained. Again I drew my knife. With a thumping heart, high up in my neck, I began this desperate experiment.
A night-bird hooted before I had gone three paces. That alert old wretch, the sentinel Black, stirred about and turned sleepily over. For several minutes I remained motionless; then again I moved cautiously forward. Although I expected the worst possible calamities to happen every moment, and thought my own breathing would betray my presence, I neared the fire without arousing the lightest sleeper. Approaching the burned-out heap, I selected the brand I would take, before I was there. In consequence of this, I lost no time, but passed silently on, when I had the precious ember in my possession. Transferring it quickly to my left hand, in order to conceal its glowing end from any eyes which might by chance be open, I dragged it on the ground beside me, and headed for the shelter, which to reach would mean success.
A half chuckle escaped me, at the thought of the Links’ stupidity and my own adroitness, for the vines were now but a dozen feet away. Yet I was horribly nervous, not daring to look behind me and fearing that anything might be happening, now that my back was turned upon the sleeping foe. I reached the cover in triumph, however, and even crawled to a small open spot, when suddenly something gave me a vigorous push with its foot.
Instantly then that monstrous old watch Link, recognised me, raised his club and poised to fetch it down with a blow that should scatter my brains. I saw him, knew he had caught me, realised that more silently than I he had followed the singular bear that would steal a brand of fire, and quick as a gun-spring I shot up against him, butted him hard in the ribs and we closed, in a duel to the death.
My only thought was—“Choke him off!” I knew that a single yell would bring an army of foes upon me; I knew he had made no sound before because of his commendable desire to determine my nature while I was still unaware of his presence. Now I swiftly determined that not a sound should he make, unless he did it over my dead body. I was thrice as vicious as he, I verily believe, as I threw myself in against his body and fastened my clutch on his throat. I was fierce as only a frightened and desperate man can be; I was strong as three of my kind, in that moment of terrible need.
His arms had been raised with the club; the weapon had even been descending as I thumped him violently backward. Down came the great rock, but the force of the blow was gone, and the aim was so ruined that he struck us both on the leg. He dropped the thing as useless, for he could not have raised it again had he tried. But with his long, iron-like arms he fought like a fiend, to shove me off, to gouge out my ribs and to grip my throat as I was gripping his, with all but two of my fingers. The two fingers gripped the handle of my knife.
The length of his arms was for once against him. I was as close up as flesh can freeze to flesh. His head was thrust far back; already his breathing muscles were swelling and labouring beneath my thumbs. We struggled about in the darkness hither and thither, wrestling, flinging, treading on roots and branches and exerting the utmost of our strength to win the battle.
The monster’s muscles were something prodigious; his activity was simply incredible. I have choked a man to submission in thirty seconds, but it seemed as if I could never weaken this brute nor reduce him to a state wherein I could use my knife. He fought me with his feet, scratched me and kicked my shins. He got his bone-and-wire arms against my stomach at last and clutched me and pushed me till I thought I should shriek with pain. Had I not been protected by the bear-skin, I think he would have killed me, in spite of the tremendous advantage I had gained at the outset. All this time the only sound was what I made in breathing and what we made with our scuffling about. It was an ominously silent duel.
Over we toppled, tripped by a creeper, and rolled on the ground among the vines. He had me under, like a cat with a squirrel, but I felt him beginning to quiver all over. My grip had not been broken for a moment, but now it nearly gave way; a weakness was stealing over me, for he was crushing my ribs where I had received the blow with the nugget club. This was the particular time when the bear-skin helped me out.
Something smarted my leg then—the brand of fire. I had struck against it. This made me furious. A gush of hot, new strength welled up in my veins and along all my sinews. My finger-ends dug in about his wind-pipe deeper and deeper. I heaved him over; his arms were becoming like lead; his motions were powerless; all the force seemed slipping from his body. Knowing my time had come, I gave the knife in my hand a sudden turn and push against the jugular vein, swelling beneath my pressure, and felt him shudder in death in a moment.