THE ANGEL AND HER DEMON
"I shouldn't be a bit surprised," said Milton Rhodes. "And a strange
bridge, that, truly. It looks like a ruin, a ruin that has not fallen."
It looked like a ruin indeed. So ruinous did it appear that I wondered
how the mass could possibly remain intact. A short advance, however,
and the mystery was solved. The hand of man had not builded that great
arch across this dreadful chasm; Nature had fashioned it, there in
that region of everlasting darkness. It has, Rhodes said, a remarkable
semblance to the celebrated Natural Bridge in Virginia.
A short space, and we stood upon it, gazing across. Its width here was
about sixty feet. The surface was, comparatively speaking, a smooth
one, and it had a rather pronounced slope upwards--a circumstance by no
means conducive to security of footing. And a feature that I noticed
with some unpleasant misgivings was the diminution of width at the
farther end. Just how wide it was there we could not tell, what with
the uncertain light that struggled to the spot; but we saw enough to
know that that way which we should have to cross was a very narrow one
indeed; and on either side was the black chasm yawning to receive us.
And just beyond, dim and ghostly as though seen in a dream, stupendous
columns rose up and were involved in the darkness of the lofty cavern.
"What on earth are those?" I queried. "It reminds one of a Grecian
temple."
"Limestone pillars, no doubt," returned Milton.
"And it's there," I exclaimed, my voice, however, low and guarded,
"that they are waiting for us! That, I have no doubt now, is where
those lights were."
"I think it very likely, Bill."
"They'll wait," said I, "until we get in that cursed narrow place, and
then--"
"And then?"
"And then," I told him, "we had better say our prayers before we start
across."
Rhodes laughed. I thought, though, that there was a touch of the
sardonic in the laugh. Little wonder, forsooth, if 'twas so, for the
thing was fraught with some terrible possibilities.
"What," I asked, "are we going to do now?"
"Cross over--that is, if we are permitted to do so."
If we should be permitted to do so!
I gazed into the black profundity of the chasm, and I tell you that I
certainly did not feel happy.
"Why," I asked, "didn't we bring a parachute along? I have an idea that
we'll wish before very many minutes that we had done so."
"It is possible," said Rhodes, and his voice and mien were grave, "that
we shall. However, Bill, it is cross over--or give the whole thing up
and go back."
"Go back? Never!"
"My sentiments to a T, Bill.
"It is possible, though," he added, turning and sending his look
along the wall, "that we may find a way out of this infernal place by
following the ledge."
"But," was my comment, "not probable."
"'Twill do no harm," he said, "to see."
"But look here: maybe, if we go on a scouting expedition along the
ledge, they'll come over here, come across the bridge, and follow us."
"I don't know," Milton answered, "that such a proceeding on their part
would make the matter any more serious than we find it right now. The
bridge contracts over there to something like a ribbon of rock."
"Holy Gorgons," I said, "haven't we got into a fine pickle, though?"
"I'll tell you what we'll do, Bill: you remain here, like Horatius at
the bridge, while I explore down along the ledge."
"I don't like it," I told him. "United we stand--well, you know the
rest of it."
He was silent for some moments. Then:
"I think that we can risk it, Bill."
"Very well," I acquiesced, shrugging my shoulders. "But I tell you that
I don't like it at all."
The next moment, however, he had turned and was moving away down the
ledge. I stepped back to the wall (upon which two inscriptions were
traced) and waited the result with such composure as I could summon.
At last Rhodes moved behind a projection in the wall. A few moments,
and the glow of his light had vanished. He was gone, and I was alone in
that terrible place.
The blackness seemed to increase, the shadows to thicken about me and
grow denser. But one sound broke the awful silence, which sound seemed
to have a quality tangible, crushing--the growl of the water in the
abysmal depths of the chasm. And even that sound, as I stood there
listening, watching, waiting, seemed to change; it seemed to sink to a
murmur, then a whisper, as though evil spirits were hushing it to lull
my suspicions and even the very senses of me.
What was that? I started, and something shot through my very heart,
chilling and sharp as the needle point of an icicle.
Surely I had seen it. Yes! There it was again, dim but unmistakable,
there by one of the great columns--a single point of light, an eye
staring at me with a greenish fire.
Yes, there it was. Then of a sudden it was gone.
For a time I stood peering and waiting, the blood throbbing in my ears;
but it was not seen again.
I turned and looked down the ledge, and I gave an exclamation that was
one of relief and joy, for there was Rhodes just come into view around
that projection in the wall.
"What," I asked as he drew near, "did you find down there?"
"We can't go down. The shelf is broken--nothing but sheer wall between.
So it's across the bridge for us."
"We may never reach the other side."
And then I told him what I had seen.
"And," I asked, "didn't grandfather Scranton say that the eyes of the
demon burned with a greenish fire?"
Rhodes nodded.
"Then what I saw was a demon's eye. But why didn't I see two. Is this a
Polyphemus demon?"
"Can't say, Bill. The greenish fire, however, is nothing but reflected
light; in other words, light has to reach them, or the eyes can't
shine. In absolute darkness they would not do so."
"It may be different down here in this world. At any rate, that eye
shone, though ghostly. And so the angel at least--and Heaven only knows
what besides--is waiting there with her demon!"
"I believe so, Bill. There can scarcely be any doubt that the eye which
you saw belonged to a demon. The prospect, I admit, is certainly a
sinister one."
A silence ensued. Of a sudden Rhodes raised his voice and hallooed:
"Hello there!"
The answer came almost on the instant:
"Hello there--hello there--hello there--hello there--hello--hello!"
"Nobody there but Echo, lovely Echo," smiled Milton Rhodes.
Again he raised his voice, and again the words were thrown back at him.
"Hear that, Bill?" he cried whilst the echoes were still sounding.
"I heard it."
"_That_ was no echo."
"No," I said; "that was not an echo."
We waited, listening intently, but that sound which had come with the
echoes was not heard again.
Rhodes drew his revolver and examined the weapon most carefully. He
looked at me curiously, and then he said:
"I have no desire, Bill, to disguise the fact that this crossing may
prove a most, a most--Bill, it may prove to be the--"
"You needn't tell me," said I. "I know very well what it may mean."
"But we can't turn back, Bill."
"No; we can't turn back."
He reached out his hand and grasped mine. And then, without another
word, we started.
I had known some critical, terrible, horrible scenes in my life; but
never anything like the suspense and mystery of those moments that
now succeeded. What were we to see? What were we to meet? And, horror
of horrors, it would be in that place where the bridge narrowed to
something like a mere ribbon--the frightful depths yawning on each
side, almost at our very feet.
Well, at last we reached it. My head began to swim, so terrible was
the place, and I had to stop and get a grip on my nerves. Rhodes too
paused, and for some moments we stood there, so near to safety and
yet--the mockery of it--closer than ever to mystery and danger and
perhaps horror unnamable.
"Now for it, Bill!" said Rhodes. "Keep your revolver ready for instant
action!"
And we started the ascent across.
The place immediately before us was so narrow that we could not think
of walking side by side. Rhodes was leading. And then it came--when we
had taken eight or ten steps, when we had reached the most dangerous
spot on that ribbon of rock.
Of a sudden a dark figure, straining at leash, moved out from behind
one of the limestone pillars, and two eyes shone as with a greenish
fire, and the strong rays of our lights were flashed back in the gleam
of teeth. And, behind that demoniac shape, a tall figure appeared, a
figure clothed in white, the eyes wide and blazing, the face white as
snow and framed in gleaming gold, which fell down in masses behind the
shoulders--a figure majestic, one indescribably lovely and dreadful.
It was the angel and her demon!