THE RED SPIDER
JACK was lying on his back on the ground. In the beautiful sky overhead
hung what looked like a vast silvery simitar, the curved edge downward,
flashing in the sun, if it were not itself the source of light. The weapon
extended its arc from horizon to horizon: beautiful but menacing, it was
suspended over him like a cosmic sword of Damocles, and without any
visible support: were it to descend, it would not only cut Jack in twain,
but the planet on which he lay, and any others of our system which might
lie in its path.
Jack’s attention was especially drawn, however, to a red, globular object,
at a great but incalculable height above him, and near the arch of the
simitar. It had the appearance to his eyes, which were still somewhat
dazed by recent events, of a huge red spider, with hostile designs upon
his welfare. As he stared at it, unable to move from his position, the
spider detached a scarlet thread from its body, with a tiny globule at the
end of it. It swung to and fro in immense curves, and constantly
lengthened its radius: it was dropping toward him with inconceivable
rapidity. The globule at the end of it now assumed the aspect of a living
creature or monster of some sort, clewed up there like an acrobat in an
aerial flight. Nearer and nearer it came: the swinging movement of the
thread to which it was attached had nearly ceased, and it was descending
straight downward. In another minute the acrobatic monster would reach the
ground.
It plainly behoved Jack to stand on his guard. He was convinced that the
apparition meditated no good to himself. What he had done to provoke it he
could imagine as little as he knew what it was, or where in the universe
this event was taking place. But the proximity of danger stimulated his
faculties, and by an effort of will he summoned together all his energies.
He lifted himself to a sitting posture, and in another instant he was on
his feet. At the same time memory, and control of his nerves, sprang into
action. He remembered his flight through space: he must have landed on
Saturn: and here he was, having as yet hardly drawn his first Saturnian
breath, confronted by an adversary who apparently intended to prevent his
drawing many more!
The red object now hung a few feet above the surface of the ground, and
not more than fifty paces from where he stood. It was a sort of vehicle of
hemispherical form, and out of it leaped a being in human shape, with red
mantle twisted about his body, shaggy black hair, and a dark and frowning
countenance. In his right hand he grasped a short truncheon. He advanced
straight upon Jack, who, wholly unarmed, put himself in an attitude of
defense. If it came to fist fighting or wrestling, he thought he might
stand a chance, though his antagonist was a man of superb proportions and
physical development. But Jack had a well-grounded confidence in his
ability to tackle any man on equal terms, and to give a good account of
himself. In many athletic trials and combats he had never yet met his
match; and unless his present opponent took some unfair advantage, he saw
no reason for doubting that he could put up a fight worth seeing.
At five paces distance, the man in the red mantle halted and addressed
him.
“I will give you your choice,” he said in a deep voice, “of either
becoming my slave or dying where you stand. I hold here”—he shook his
truncheon threateningly—“the means of blasting you to fragments in a
moment. I am Torpeon, Prince of Tor. Kneel down and do me homage!”
Jack was somewhat relieved to find that the Prince of Tor spoke American,
or what seemed to be that famous language, though he afterward found
reason to think that special conditions may have misled him on that point.
An underlying sense of humor in him was also awakened by the grandiloquent
terms in which this remarkable person launched his challenge: they
reminded him of the defiance of medieval champions that he had read about
in books of romance. Being aware of no ground of enmity between them, he
thought it proper to make a statement on his own account.
“I am Jack Paladin of New York,” he said. “I’ve just landed here, and I’m
not acquainted with any inhabitant of this planet, and therefore can have
no quarrel with any. I came here in search of a young lady, a friend and
countrywoman of my own, who arrived here a few days ago. When I find her,
I intend to take her back to New York. I’m not looking for trouble, and I
guess you have made a mistake in your man.”
This placable speech, instead of soothing, had the effect or rousing the
other to even greater wrath. His features assumed a terrible expression.
“Silence! or take the consequences,” he growled raising his truncheon.
“The woman you speak of, Miriam, is in my power: and I shall take her with
me to Tor and make her my wife. Once more I give you the choice of either
serving her and me as our slave, or of perishing on this spot. Kneel!”
But the Prince’s allusion to Miriam had put Jack into another humor. He
became very grave and punctilious.
“You are evidently a footpad of some sort, and I shall have pleasure, if
you insist upon it, in breaking your back across my knee. I’ll take my
chances against your revolver, or whatever you call that thing in your
hand: if you were not a coward and a rascal, you would throw it down and
meet me with bare hands, like a gentleman. What you say about the lady is
a lie, and if you don’t take it back immediately, of your own motion, I
will give you the most unpleasant quarter of an hour of your life in
making you swallow it. Now, then, if you’re ready, I am!”
The prince grinned a dreadful smile, and pointed his weapon at Jack’s
head. The latter kept an eye fixed upon the hand that held it, prepared to
dodge and make a spring for him at the proper moment.
In that moment of suspense he heard the quiet voice of Mary Faust
speaking.
“The sapphire talisman will protect you from his lightnings,” she said.
“Put forth your strength, and do your best!”
“Thanks: I will!” was the reply flashed back by his mind. He knew that she
would hear him across the gulf of space, as he had heard her. Meanwhile,
though he had been prepared for the worst, he felt decidedly encouraged by
the information about the truncheon.
“Here is your end, then,” said Torpeon between his teeth.
As he spoke, a red flash issued from the end of the truncheon, which was
leveled with true aim at Jack’s forehead. The result was surprising to the
Prince, and highly agreeable to his antagonist.
The lightning bolt-bolt, if such it were, swerved from its course at an
inch or so from its mark, and slipped round Jack’s head as a jet of water
would be deflected round a glass sphere. The ozone whose scent hung in the
air had a reviving effect rather than otherwise. Torpeon, himself,
unbalanced by the shock of astonishment, did not have opportunity for a
second attempt. Jack had made his spring, catching the right wrist with
his left hand. He gave it a violent wrench, causing the truncheon to drop
from his grasp. The weight of Jack’s impact against Torpeon’s body caused
the latter to give ground, and the two men came to earth together, Jack
uppermost.
Now began a struggle of heroic dimensions. Jack was not long in becoming
aware that the strength he had to contend against surpassed anything
heretofore experienced. Torpeon was a giant in power, and was fighting
with a fury and desperation more than tigerlike. Had he been as well
trained as was Jack in the science of wrestling, in the grips and shifts
which bring leverage to bear against muscle, in the surprises and swift
changes of that ancient and noble art, Jack would have had a labor of
Hercules indeed. But that practised skill was lacking: Torpeon secure in
his magical resources, had never been at the pains to prepare himself for
personal struggle.
The grip of his great arms round Jack’s ribs was a sensation to be
remembered. Jack’s right arm had also been caught in the vise, but his
left was free, and he applied pressure beneath the other’s bearded chin,
forcing his head back slowly and surely, until the imminence of a broken
neck compelled the other to relax his hold. With both arms now liberated,
the champion of America, twisting his body like a serpent, got a knee
under Torpeon’s right elbow, and bore down upon the right forearm with a
weight and power that caused agony almost unendurable: and foam flew from
the prince’s lips. At the last extremity, however, he got his other arm
round Jack’s neck, and using it as a fulcrum, tore himself free and
staggered to his feet. But he was panting hard, and his right arm hung
temporarily useless at his side. Jack was also well-breathed, but in much
the better shape of the two. He had also fought himself into a good humor,
and was disposed to friendly parley.
“There’s good material in you, if you’d taught yourself how to handle it
properly,” he said. “I’m a peaceable sort, and I don’t want to hurt you. I
have other things to attend to besides thrashing princes: and if you’re
willing, I’ll call this thing off, and we’ll both go about our business.
Or, if you’re not satisfied, I’ll try you out at sparring. But you’ll have
to look out for my left uppercut.”
Torpeon, out of the corner of his eye, had caught sight of his truncheon
lying on the ground near by, and thought that if he could repossess
himself of it, he could make good the miss of the first discharge. He had
felt enough of the stamina of his adversary to prefer whatever advantage
he could command: and he was edging toward the weapon in the hope of
getting a chance to pick it up, covering his design with words.
“You are a valiant warrior,” he said, compelling his features to assume an
amicable aspect. “I need men like you at my right hand in the government
of my kingdom. With you to help me, we can conquer the inhabitants of this
planet, who are pusillanimous and averse from battle, and become rulers of
all the globes that surround the sun.”
“It’s a handsome offer,” replied Jack smiling; “but I was never addicted
to the business of ruling. The best thing you can do is run back home and
take a thorough course in athletics; and then, if you ever happen along
our way, I shall take pleasure in showing you over New York, and, if you
like, I’ll take you on either at boxing or wrestling for points before the
Royal Referee in the Madison Square Garden arena. We hold an amateur meet
every year. But first, if you please,” he added, in another tone, “I’ll
trouble you to take back what you said about a certain lady. You were
lying, were you not?”
He made a step forward as he spoke. Torpeon, however, had by this time got
close enough to the truncheon to feel safe in making an effort for it. He
made a leap backward, at the same time stooping to snatch it up. But
neither of the combatants, preoccupied with each other, had noticed the
advent of a third party, who was now revealed.
Taking advantage of the cover afforded by bushes and rocky projections,
this individual had gradually crawled nearer and nearer, until he was now
as close to the fallen truncheon as Torpeon himself. He anticipated
Torpeon’s movement by the fraction of a second, and seizing the weapon, he
rose to his feet, and presented it at the prince’s breast.
“Han’s up, now, or I’ll blow de guts out of yer!” he cried out. “I hol’s
de winnin’ ace, and de boss an’ me, we scoops de pot. Han’s up!”
Torpeon stared in amazement. His new antagonist, grotesque, one-legged and
dwarfish, appeared to have sprouted out of the ground. He was
supernatural: and he had him covered with a steady hand. The odds were too
great.
“Drop that thing, Jim!” called out Jack. “We don’t need any machinery to
tackle this hound: what he wants is a kick!”
So saying, and incensed at the prince’s attempted treachery, Jack stepped
forward with a foot prepared, as on the gridiron of former days, for
execution. But Torpeon’s red chariot still hung close at hand at the end
of its long thread. He made a spring for it, caught it by the rim, and
swung himself aboard. Immediately the cord began to diminish its length,
carrying the chariot up with it at a prodigious speed; in a few minutes it
had become a mere dot in the sky, ascending toward the red spider which
the prince had called his kingdom of Tor, and which, as Jack, with cleared
faculties, now recognized, was one of the ten moons which accompany the
great Saturnian world on its endless journey.
“Well, he’s gone home, and I think he’ll stay there for the present,” said
Jack, with justifiable satisfaction. “If he’d been properly brought up,
though, he’d have made a good center rush on the team.”
“Dat guy is no good for nottin’, believe me, boss,” said Jim. “He ain’t
got de right sperrit: he’s not a game sport! Dis here gun of his is a bum
model: I makes a bluff wid it, but I ain’t on to her workin’s. I wisht I’d
busted him wid her, anyhow!”
“Better as it is,” Jack said. “So you landed here safe and sound! Have you
any notion whereabouts we are, or which way we should go to find Miss
Miriam?”
“Yer kin search me, boss. Say, is dat big white t’ing up dere all right?
I’d not like to be roun’ when it’s her day fur droppin’ down!”
“That is Saturn’s ring, Jim,” replied Jack wearing his new-found wisdom
lightly. “It’s perfectly safe: I could have shown it to you through
uncle’s telescope any time.”
“Well, N’York was never like dis,” said Jim, dissatisfiedly. “I likes to
see plenty of folks aroun’, and here ain’t nobody ’cept you an’ me an’ de
guy what you give de hidin’ to: Say, boss, you polish him off great! Ef
you’d landed on his jaw, he’d be takin’ de count yet! Me, I was rootin’
fur yer all de time!”
Jack nodded appreciatively, and then cast a glance over the landscape.
It was level and interminable: the horizon as distant as if from the top
of a mountain: the arc of the ring passed out of sight beneath it on
either hand. There were tracts of forest, the windings of a mighty river,
expanding here and there into gleaming lakes: in another direction a chain
of mountains sparkling as if formed of crystal. Flowers grew everywhere,
and the color on all sides was almost as bright as if objects emitted
rather than reflected light. But no sign of human life was visible: this
planet, many times the size of our earth seemed to be unchanged from its
primeval state.
“Robinson Crusoe thought he was lonely on his desert island,” muttered
Jack. “What would he have said to a desert world! Eight hundred million
miles from home, and not so much as a red Indian in sight! And my darling
girl abandoned in such a place! Can it be possible that scoundrel really
met her? Surely Mary Faust would have guarded her as she did me! I must
find the trail at once!”
Jim had been regarding him attentively. “Where did yer get de glad rags,
boss?” he inquired. “Seems like yer was togged out in fire!”
Jack cast a glance over himself, and emitted a grunt of astonishment. His
whole body except for his hands, and presumably his face was attired in
little flickering flames, forming a complete suit or tunic and leggings,
of becoming hues of green and brown. The flames, not more than half an
inch in length, evidently proceeded from his flesh, though with no
unpleasant effects—quite the contrary. Nor was this all. The herbage on
which he stood was similarly on fire; the holes of the trees were alive
with inner flames, and their leaves were individual tongues of colored
fire. The very rocks that pushed up from the ground sparkled with an
interior glow: and yet, in this universal conflagration, nothing was
consumed, but only rendered brighter and more beautiful. Jim alone stood
there unchanged, in what looked to be the identical suit of threadbare
jacket and breeches he had worn in New York.
“Of course, Jim,” said Jack after some thought, “we should expect things
to be different on a different planet. We know that physical life is a
sort of combustion, and here we can see it as well as know it—that’s all.
This is the way Saturnians dress, I suppose. But I wish we could see a few
of them!”
“We’d best be humpin’ oursel’s, den,” Jim suggested. “What’s de course?”
“Suppose we try going west?”
This good young-American resolution was however delayed by the difficulty
that there was no apparent way of determining which direction west was.
The sun—where was the sun—too remote to be of avail; one could not say
even whether it were day or night. Saturn, with its rings, lighted itself!
“Let’s go straight ahead,” decided Jack.
“Sure,” assented Jim, and before they had gone a dozen paces, the gnome’s
sharp eyes had made a discovery. He pointed across the plain.
“A guy is headin’ toward us, boss,” he said. “Let’s clear the decks fur
action, till we fin’s what he wants!”