THE THRUST OF A SPEAR
Instantly there was tumult all about us. The crowd broke and surged
toward the central point in the tragedy, forcing us who were in front to
struggle on the crest of the wave. Their reserve vanished and each man
cried to his neighbor in eager tones and allowed the mad excitement of
the moment full sway.
Some one cut Ilalah’s bonds and the girl sank to the ground to support
the head of the little arrow-maker upon her breast, pressing back his
thin locks and tenderly kissing him upon the forehead.
But he knew nothing of this grateful kindness. His eyes were set and
glazed, for the arrow had lodged in his heart.
A tug at my thong threatened to strangle me, for Moit had bounded
forward to kneel beside Ilalah and try to assist her in spite of his own
helpless condition. Then some semblance of order was restored and our
guards pushed us back and eased the thong which was fast throttling me.
From the murmured words of the natives I gathered that Tcharn had atoned
by his sacrifice for all the guilt charged against the princess, as the
law declared that when the death penalty was imposed another could die
instead of the condemned and so set him free.
For this reason the king was raging like a wild beast and threatening
those who expressed sympathy for the girl who had so miraculously
escaped his brutal vengeance.
“But the whites, at least, shall die—and the black men who are with
them!” he shouted aloud, casting at us such glances of hatred and
ferocity that we knew our fate was sealed.
They had carried poor Tcharn away and the princess had risen to her feet
and now stood bravely confronting her father.
“It is folly to talk of injuring these strangers,” she answered him,
boldly. “I alone know their wonderful powers and that they are able to
crush us all if we dare attempt to harm them.”
The king let out a disdainful roar, but Ilalah’s words impressed many in
the crowd and caused the Techlas to murmur again.
“What can they do?” asked Nalig-Nad, derisively. “They are but human and
they are in our power.”
“They have their magic chariot,” she said, “which you all know can deal
death and destruction to their foes.”
“Magic!” retorted the king, laughing boisterously; “do you call that
poor, man-made contrivance magic?”
All eyes turned toward the opening, where a hundred yards beyond the
broken wall poor Moit’s automobile was standing motionless as we had
left it.
Most of those present had witnessed the machine’s marvelous
performances, and in nearly every face now lurked an expression of awe
or apprehension. Nalig-Nad saw the look, and it aroused him to fury.
“Come!” he cried, “I will prove that the white men have no magic.”
Seizing a heavy, bronze-tipped spear from an attendant he ran from the
enclosure and made directly for the automobile, followed by a crowd of
his most devoted adherents. The others, with us, remained to watch
curiously what he would do.
I saw Moit’s face pale and his lips tremble; but he stood firm and
steadfast while the king rushed upon his beloved machine and with a
powerful stroke drove the spear clean through the plates of sheathing
which protected the body.
I own I was amazed at such a display of strength, but a more athletic
savage than Nalig-Nad I have never beheld. When the jagged rent was torn
in the side of the automobile the crowd that surrounded it danced
gleefully and jeered at the helpless child of our poor inventor’s brain
as if it were alive and could feel their scorn.
Again Nalig-Nad seized a spear and hurled it at the side of the machine,
piercing once more the light but stout metal. A third went crashing into
the automobile, and then—
And then it seemed as though the world had suddenly come to an end.
I was dashed so forcibly against the huge body of my guard that where he
fell upon the hard earth his head was crushed in like an eggshell. But I
did not know this until I came to my senses and heard the sounds of
moaning all around me and saw the ground covered with the forms of the
stricken natives.
A knife severed my bonds and set me free, and I staggered to my feet to
find Ilalah and Duncan Moit supporting me until I could recover
sufficiently to stand alone.
Nux and Bryonia, all unhurt, were busy restoring the bruised and
bewildered Techlas to consciousness, while Uncle Naboth sat upon the
king’s bench, his clothing torn to tatters, and wiped away with his red
handkerchief the blood that trickled from a cut in his head.
I looked around wonderingly, trying to imagine what had happened, and
saw a piece of dull silver metal driven edgewise into the front of the
palace, where it was wedged firmly into the hard clay. That gave me a
hint, and I looked out upon the plain where the automobile had stood and
found that it had disappeared. So had Nalig-Nad and the crowd of furious
natives that had surrounded him as he plunged his spear into the heart
of Duncan Moit’s great invention.
Then I remembered the can of glycerine explosive and knew the whole
terrible story in an instant. The spear-point had made Ilalah Queen of
the Techlas. It had also deprived her lover of the perfect fruit of
years of inspired thought and faithful toil.