THE DEFENSE OF THE CAVE
We turned. Before us stood a man so small that he might be taken for a
dwarf. His head was so large that it was remarkable, and the way it
rolled from side to side caused me a certain uneasiness. His eyes were
the size of two peas, but they twinkled with a kind of knowing wisdom
that continually forced you to look away and in the next moment to
return and gaze at him again. A smile covered his mouth, but it was a
smile that never changed. You could not tell whether it came from
amusement or whether mockery lay behind it. We had hardly caught our
breath when he shifted over to us. It was then that I noticed for the
first time that his legs were bent in an arch like a bow. They seemed
very thin, scarcely able to support the weight of his thick body.
He took off his cap and drew his head in between his shoulders like a
turtle.
“I have been on the look-out for you the last three days,” he said.
“Where have you been?”
I said not a word but glanced at Charles.
“Who are you?” he gasped, “—friend or enemy?”
“I am the Dwarf of Angers,” was the reply. He hesitated. The smile
broadened into a wicked grin. “If I were your enemy,” he went on, “you
would have been dead long before this.”
“You say you have been expecting us——,” I began, but he broke in and
interrupted me.
“You are a friend of the Abbot of Chalonnes,” he said in the most matter
of fact way. “He heard that you were threatened with danger. I came to
see you through.”
I drew back in surprise. My first impulse was to tell him that I had
never seen the Abbot of Chalonnes in my life. On second thought, I
decided to let him believe as he would.
“We are surrounded by at least a score of men,” I said with some
caution. “They are French—followers of a man by the name of De Marsac.
The three of us can hardly make a stand against them. They are too
many.”
A little cackle of laughter broke from him. He went to the corner of the
room where a basket stood. He took from it an apple that was as large as
your fist. He stretched out his hand and laid the apple between the
middle finger and the forefinger. He extended his arm to full length and
slowly drew his fingers together. There came a crushing sound. Then with
as much force as if it were struck by a hammer the apple flew apart. One
half of it shot over against the wall and the other dropped a little
distance from his feet.
My mouth opened in amazement. Such a feat of strength I never believed
possible.
“There has never lived a man with hands and arms like these,” he said.
“Nature gave me a misshapen body. But she made up for it in another
way.” He jumped back and turned to the wall. With a leap as quick as
lightning he came towards us, turning one somersault after the other.
Not once did his hands touch the floor nor, when he came to a halt, did
he draw a single breath that gave a sign of fatigue.
“I can draw a bow that would drive an archer to despair,” he explained.
“I never weary. I can go on and on till they drop. I am all hands and
arms.” He stopped and looked up at us. The same smile covered his face,
only now he opened his lips far enough to show us a line of ugly twisted
teeth.
“Can you shoot?” he then demanded with a sudden burst.
“A little,” we stammered, “—but not like you, I am sure.”
He cackled again.
“A little is enough,” he said. “Come!” He spun on his heel and went over
to where we had first seen the bows suspended on the wall. “Take this,”
he said to Charles. “—and you take this. There’ll be a merry time in the
woods before the setting of the sun.”
With that he handed each of us a bow and a quiver of finely made arrows.
As though he were the leader of an army, he marched proudly to the door.
He swung it open and with a bow stood like a soldier at attention till
we filed out.
We were once more among the rocks and stones—and the trees of the
forest. It was light, but the rays of the sun shone only here and there
in long threads where the breeze for a time drove the branches apart.
We went on stealthily. We kept our bodies low so that if a chance shot
were fired at us, it might pass over our heads. I got as far as the row
of boulders that, I have said, was like an irregular stone wall. I was
on the verge of straightening myself to look further into the woods when
an arrow sang past me and struck with a click against the cave.
In the next moment a shriek echoed through the woods. Far off in the
shadows of the trees I saw, faintly, of course, a man throw his arms
into the air and pitch forward on his face. Before I could recover from
my astonishment another ran to lift him to his feet. He had hardly
stooped when a shaft easily a yard long pierced his side and he, too,
fell forward over his companion.
For a second I was set wondering. I looked around to see if the Dwarf
was at our backs. He was nowhere to be seen. Then I was certain that he
had gone out among the trees. It was he who had shot the men who were
lying there on the ground. I heard a branch over my head crack and saw
it bend. A form twisted itself around and dropped quickly to the earth.
Before I could wink, the Dwarf was standing between us with the grin
stretching from ear to ear. His face was glowing with excitement.
“Did you see them fall?” he cried, and took me by the coat. “Could an
archer have reached them at that distance?”
“I never thought that an arrow could carry so far,” said Charles.
The Dwarf bent over and clapped himself on the knee.
“—and neither it did!” he exclaimed. “The arrows I shot didn’t travel a
hundred feet. I was up there in the trees—almost over their heads. I
shot down upon them. These arms did that—these strong arms of mine!”
I understood.
“You mean that you climbed from one tree to the other?” I asked. “You
worked your way from branch to——?”
For an answer he reached up and took hold of the branch from which he
had just dropped. He lowered his body as far as he could. Then with a
spring as light as a monkey’s he shot into the air. He twisted his small
legs, curling them with the suppleness of a snake. His body swung
forward. He took another hold. He swung forward again. There was no
strain nor gasping for breath. With a litheness that I had never judged
possible he squirmed and swung himself, till in a short time he had
completely disappeared among the trees.
I looked at Charles and shook my head. We stood there forgetful of our
enemies in utter amazement at the Dwarf’s agility. Then without a
warning an arrow came darting through the air and dug its point deep
into the ground at our feet.
We jumped back and dodged behind a rock. We held our bows in readiness
for an attack, with our eyes dancing anxiously in every direction.
Then came a sharp, cackling laugh from over our heads. The branches
swayed and the Dwarf dropped nimbly to the earth. He swung the bow which
he held in his hand with a kind of childish pride and said, “I could
have killed you both! The one arrow would have done it, for you were
standing in a straight line!” He puffed himself out and strutted back
and forth. “Nature has given me a crooked body,” he went on, “but I’m
worth a dozen perfect men.”
It began to dawn on me that the Dwarf was a bit of a fool. He was
deformed, of course, but his imagination had played on him so that he
pictured himself as the ugliest man on earth. I saw, too, that he was
sensitive to a degree. It was this that caused him to boast about the
strength of his arms and hands. His continual dwelling on his
marksmanship with the bow was a balance to his shortcomings.
My thoughts were interrupted by a cry from Charles. He grasped me by the
shoulder and drew me down behind the wall of stone.
“Look!” he cried. “There are a dozen of them moving through the woods!”
Sure enough. I raised my head a little above the wall. I saw the forms
of several men passing from tree to tree. They darted as though they
feared to trust themselves in the open.
“I have roused them!” cried the Dwarf. “I have stung them to the quick.
They are forming for an attack. They will come forward with a rush.”
He was right. No sooner had he spoken when a dozen arrows sped towards
us. Their white feathers were like streaks in the air. We hid behind the
wall as near to the earth as we could crouch. Two or three hard clicks
against the rock in front of us showed that they had gotten the range.
The flight of half a dozen others over our heads was warning enough that
they were determined to drive us from our fortress at the cost of their
lives.
Charles and I raised our bows and peeped out through a crevice in the
rock. Our heads were scarcely above the top line of the wall when three
arrows in quick succession whizzed past. One of them came so near that
the point of it clipped a tiny piece from the stone and sent it flying
into my face.
“Now!” cried the Dwarf. “Hold ready!”
I heard a shout. A score of our enemies rushed out from behind the
trees. They raised their bows. The arrows came as thick as hail. Another
shout and the men strung their bows and shot again. It was now or never.
The three of us raised ourselves each on one knee. I cannot speak for
the others. As for myself I singled out a fellow who was darting forward
from one tree to seek the cover of the next. My arrow caught him in the
shoulder between the arm and the neck. His bow dropped from his grasp.
As well as I could see, an expression of intense pain crossed his
features. He clapped his hand to the wound and reeled back to the tree
from which he had just come.
Charles must have hit his man, and even with more accuracy than I hit
mine. I saw a fellow spin around like a top and fall staggering to the
earth a little to the left. In the turning of my head I caught the flash
of hatred on the Dwarf’s face. The bow he carried was of unusual size
and the string of great strength. The missile went so fast I could not
even see its passage in the air. But the twang had hardly reached my ear
when the arrow pierced the neck of an enemy as he was running past a
tree. It stopped him in full career. It pierced him through and through,
and fastened him to the trunk as firmly as if he were tied with a taut
rope.
In the next breath we were down again. A flight of arrows clattered
against the stone face of our fortress or passed close over our heads.
The enemy must have been filled with bitterness that so many of them had
fallen while they had not been able to touch one of us. They paused for
a space to form again. This time they came on, not scattered as before,
but rather in groups. The first of them shot their arrows and dropped to
the ground. Those behind sent their missiles at us just at the moment
when they expected we would raise our heads above the wall.
They were coming in. There was no doubt of that. And so close on the
heels of each other did their arrows fly that we were unable to look out
long enough to take a good aim, for on the second try I shot wide of the
mark and in ducking back an arrow almost ended my life, for it grazed
the top of my head and cut into my scalp far enough to draw a few drops
of blood.
I began to fear for our safety. I knew the kind of enemy we had before
us. If they could lay hands upon us they would tear us limb from limb.
If we were to get out of our difficulty, it would be only by the death
of them all. But how it was to come about was more than I could guess,
for their numbers far surpassed ours. Even if we were to make off, there
were more and more of them about us in the woods.
I took the risk once more and raised my head above the wall. At the same
time I took a shot at a fellow who was half hidden by a tree. It was as
good as a miss, for the arrow only grazed his arm and tore a piece of
the cloth of the sleeve of his coat. But he let out a roar that echoed
to my ears. As though I had destroyed something of the greatest value,
he threw all caution to the side. He strung his bow and shot an arrow at
me with such force that it struck the rock and shivered into a thousand
pieces. Then with the same running motion he came on. He zig-zagged from
one tree to the other. He fumbled with his bow, but in his madness could
not steady himself long enough to string it. When he was within fifty
feet of our wall, he cast it to the ground in anger. He fumbled for a
moment at his belt. He drew out a dagger and raised it on high as though
he would sweep us all to death with the very fury of his attack.
Both Charles and I (the Dwarf was far to one side) saw him advancing. At
the same time we raised ourselves to shoot him down before he reached
the wall. But we had no sooner showed the tops of our heads when a rain
of arrows forced us to drop back again. In the next second the fellow
was bellowing like a wild bull. With one leap he had a footing on the
wall. Another, he had sprung over it and bounded into our midst.
It was a situation that we had not foreseen. In a certain sense he was
as safe as he would have been if he had remained among the trees. We
knew that if we rose to grapple with him we were as good as dead, for
the men without were on their guard. They were protecting him with their
eyes alert and their bows strung to kill the first of us who would be so
forgetful as to raise his head or shoulders in a line with their arrows.
The fellow flew at me like a fury. He caught me by the arm and spun me
around. I slid away from him and rolled over two or three times on the
ground. Charles lowered his body and made a flying leap. He struck him
in the middle of the back and sent him sprawling on his face.
I got to my hands and knees, poising myself on the balls of my feet
ready to move in case he came at me again. He rose. His countenance was
black with anger. The hand that held the dagger quivered with the wrath
that was boiling in him. He stood straight up and glared at me as though
his very looks would kill.
The Dwarf was edging over towards us, shuffling with his body low to the
earth. His face was covered with the same smile that I had noticed when
I first saw him. The fellow had one foot ahead of the other ready to
move. The Dwarf made one leap—a long, low horizontal leap. He fastened
the fingers of his powerful hands in the calves of my attacker’s legs.
He sunk his nails into the flesh with a grip like the claws of a wild
animal that is desperate. I heard him snarl and gnash his teeth. The
fellow tried to kick him away. He might as well have struggled against
the grip of an iron trap. The Dwarf gathered his strength into his
shoulders. He took in a deep breath. With a twist he jerked his victim’s
legs to the one side. The fellow came down with the swiftness with which
you would snap a whip. His head struck a stone and that so loudly that I
heard the crack of it. He gave a groan. His arms fell limp to his sides
and he rolled over with his eyes glazed on his back.
I breathed a sigh of relief. That I had been near death I fully
realized. But I had no time to reflect, for an arrow came darting over
our heads and sang its way beyond us into the forest. I sprang to the
wall, for I surely thought that the enemy suspected that their companion
was captured or injured and would make an attempt to save him.
But here the Dwarf surprised us again. With the litheness of a cat he
picked the fallen man in his arms. He stood straight up holding him face
towards the foe. He advanced step by step until he came to the edge of
our defenses. Then he raised the man like a bundle in his arms. By this
the lower part of his body was exposed. I trembled for a moment for I
was certain that it was a vulnerable spot for an arrow.
[Illustration: His Countenance Was Black With Anger]
My guess was right. An arrow came speeding at him. Its aim was as true
as ever an aim was. The Dwarf’s eye was keen. In a twinkling he lowered
the man so that his legs dragged on the ground. The arrow found its
mark. It struck the fellow clean in the chest. So great was the force of
it that the Dwarf staggered back a step to keep his footing. Then he let
out a screech—a horrible sound that came from his throat and echoed in
and out among the trees. With a heave as powerful as three strong men he
raised the body of the dead man over his head and cast it far out over
the wall. It turned and rolled. The arrow twisted under its side and it
came to a stop at the foot of a tree.
“Come and get him!” the Dwarf cried. “You’re a fine lot who kill your
own men!”
We were answered. As many arrows as a bird had feathers came shooting
towards us. On the heels of them the men in the woods ran from their
shelter, stringing fresh arrows as they came. The Dwarf began to bounce
about like a toad. His hands moved twice as fast as ours. Before I had
my bow to my shoulder he had brought a man down. The more excited he
grew, the deeper his voice resounded in his throat and the more
unearthly his screeches became. There was a savage instinct in him that
led me to think he was hardly human.
The first of our assailants got as far as the wall. The Dwarf struck him
over the heart and sent him tumbling back. A second followed. Charles
made short work of him. Then there came three of them together. They had
a daring recklessness in their eyes that told us they had made their
calculations and would risk all to rout us from our wall. In their
bravado they called to their companions in the rear to have no fear,
that this assault would be the last, that they were going to make an end
of us.
The Dwarf called to us to hold steady. He sent the foremost of them
kicking to the ground. I took the second, while Charles, whose aim was
true, dropped the third not a dozen feet from where we crouched. But
that was not the end. The others had been roused to a feeling of
desperation by our stubbornness. They kept on running. They shot their
arrows one after the other so that it was a risk for any of us to show
his head above the line of rocks.
The Dwarf gave another screech. Without a word to us he swung himself
into the branches of the nearest tree and disappeared from sight. We
were left alone, Charles and I, to make what we could of the attack. The
first two were easy enough. The third limped away, wounded in the leg.
The fourth (it was I who tried the shot) was only grazed along the
wrist.
Then we were in for it. Three of our enemies got as far as the wall. The
two foremost jumped over and made for us. The third fell as limp as a
rag where he had been shot by the Dwarf in the back. I thought we were
done for. To avoid a struggle hand to hand I ran with my body lowered to
the far corner of our defenses. Charles moved more slowly in the
opposite direction. Our separation had this advantage, the men could not
pounce upon us two at a time and so singly overcome us.
My fellow had cast his bow away. With his fingers outstretched like the
talons of a bird he ran at me and grasped me by the arm. I tore myself
loose and sprang still farther away. I saw an advantage and with bent
body made a running dive at his legs with about the same motion with
which you would dive into deep water. My shoulders struck him on the
shins. I fell to the earth, of course, but he fell with me. And in the
fall he struck his elbow a sharp crack on the edge of a stone that made
him wince with pain.
My mind was running in a hurry. I had no time to think of anything but a
safe way out of my predicament. But yet, withal, it occurred to me that
there were no more men vaulting over our defenses. I was sure that the
Dwarf was guarding us with his arrows in the trees.
I grew strong with a kind of hope. My fellow was gathering himself for a
fresh lunge. We were both on our feet. I waited until he came forward.
His lips drew back in a snarl. Then of a sudden he caught me by the
sleeve of my coat and dragged me towards him. I swung around on the one
side as far as I could. Then I gathered my hand into a fist. With a
swing that, I am sure, he did not expect I wheeled about and caught him
a stunning blow on the jaw.
He was hurt and not a little dazed. With a jerk I tore his grasp from my
coat. Then his face filled with fury. The blood shot into his eyes and
he gave me a look that had murder in it.
He saw that I was not to be caught, for I was quicker and more lithe
than he. As though he was groping for a missile he looked searchingly
around on the ground. He picked up a stone that was as large as my head
and smiled at me as though to tell me that I was facing my doom.
I stepped back, so that by chance I might dodge the stone if he happened
to have a good aim. He raised his arm. He placed one foot before the
other and measured me with his eye. But the stone, to my amazement,
never was thrown. The man stiffened up with a jerk. His face twisted in
intense pain. With a look on his face that I shall not soon forget, he
tottered forward and fell at my feet. In another second he was dead with
one of the Dwarf’s arrows sticking in his back, swaying and moving like
a warning sign.
I was shaking. My nerves were jumping like the cords of a whip. I gave a
glance at Charles and saw him struggling with his man on the ground. The
two were wrestling, with the one grasping the other’s wrist. As they
rolled over a dagger shot into the air and fell at Charles’ side. He
reached out and took it by the hasp. Then he bounded quickly to his
feet. His face was hot and covered with dirt where he had been rolling
in the earth. He made a jump towards his enemy with the dagger raised
above his head.
But fright won the victory. The fellow no sooner saw that Charles had
the upper hand when he leaped far to the one side. He never stopped but
kept on ahead. With a spring he bounded over our wall, and as fast as
ever a man ran he made for the shelter of the trees.
That much was over, thanks to the Dwarf. The two of us lowered our
bodies again lest an arrow take us unawares. I risked a peep out through
one of the crevices. I had every thought that another band of assailants
would be on us to take vengeance for the damage we had done their
companions. To my surprise the woods were as still for a time as a
peaceful countryside. Then, after a little, far off, I heard the screech
of the Dwarf coming to us like an echo through the trees. When it died
away a silence fell over us once more. I was beginning to count the
victory ours, for I was sure that the Dwarf with his arrows, his
terrible arms and hands had done their work. Single-handed he had driven
our enemies from the neighborhood.
The sun was casting slanting rays out of the west. A new thought rose in
my mind. The night would be dark, for there was no space for the shining
of the stars through the matted branches of the trees. We would stand
guard, of course, ready to ward off an attack. But in case our enemies
returned it would be difficult to see them as clearly as we had done
during the afternoon. They could storm our little stronghold. By sheer
numbers they could overwhelm us. Before we could raise a bow in our
defense they could slaughter us where we cowered behind our stone-wall.
This thought grew stronger in my mind as the darkness came on. I spoke
to Charles, who only nodded his head.
“If they come,” he said, after turning the matter over, “we must leave.
The woods will be safer than it is here.”
To this we agreed. We kept our eyes on the alert, searching in every
direction for a foe. The sun had dropped behind the horizon and the
shadows of night were stretching themselves like black sheets on every
side of us. The woods were silent and mysterious. Not a sound came to
our ears except the twittering of a bird or two as he settled in his
nest. The shrieking of the Dwarf had long since stopped.
“We must wait till he returns,” said Charles. “We cannot go without a
word from him. He will——”
We both jumped to our feet. There was a rustling of the branches over
our heads. The Dwarf dropped lightly to the ground and stood facing us
in the gathering gloom. His mouth was spread open in a wide grin that
showed his big pointed teeth.
“There’s no fear, now,” he said. “I’ve scattered them. Come into my
cave. We must eat.”
He led the way. The fire had gone out. He relit it with a piece of
tinder and dry wood. When the blaze had started up he drew from out the
folds of his shirt a dagger and cast it at my feet. It was the dagger
which I had from the scrivener, the one which I was to take to the Abbot
of Chalonnes—which I thought I had lost forever in the Loire.
“I found that in the shirt of one of the men I shot down,” he explained.
“Take it with you. Guard it better than you have already done. In
another hour it will be safe for you to leave. You can keep to the road
that leads towards the south. If there is any trouble, show it to the
keeper of the inn that stands at the cross-roads. He is a friend of
mine.”