ANOTHER!
I jerked out my revolver, took swift aim, right between those great
blazing eyes, and fired.
From the beast came a fearful roar, which seemed to end in a scream,
and the long snaky head and neck (no more of the animal had been
visible) disappeared.
"Good work, Bill!" applauded Milton Rhodes.
He had hardly spoken when the light came again, strong and beautiful.
And the next instant came something else. A dark form, with a gleam
of something white, rose into the air and drove straight toward us.
I sprang aside and turned to fire, but I did not do so for fear of
hitting the Dromans or Rhodes. There came a piercing shriek from
Drorathusa, a sound made by cloth-rending talons. The monster had her.
[Illustration: "How like the big face of a fat man!"]
I leaped toward it and emptied the revolver into its side, whilst
Ondonarkus and Zenvothunbro sent each an arrow into the body. That of
the former was driven with such force that it passed clear through the
body and went on for a distance of six or eight feet. And down the
beast fell dead, though still quivering, there in our very midst.
I turned and hurried to Drorathusa. Rhodes was already beside her. As
I reached her, the darkness came down again upon the place, pitchy and
awful. The claws had ripped her dress, from the thigh down, literally
into ribbons; strangely enough, the flesh had escaped even a scratch.
Drorathusa was badly shaken, and little wonder, forsooth. It had been
a miraculous escape from terrible injury, from a most horrible death.
A few moments, however, and she was as composed as though nothing had
happened. Truly there was much to admire in this extraordinary woman.
Rhodes and I turned and examined the body, now lying quite still. It
was that of a big cat. Strictly speaking, it was not, I suppose, a cat;
it was not like anything that we had even seen or heard of. But a cat
I shall call it, not knowing what other word to use. The head was long
and of an aspect strikingly, repulsively snake-like. So was the neck.
This reptilian resemblance was enhanced by the head's being absolutely
destitute of hair, save for the vibrissae, which were really enormous.
The body was dark, curiously mottled with gray. The breast and the
belly were snowy white.
"Hum," said Milton Rhodes. "A strange and terrible creature, Bill.
This wilderness must be a real one when we find a carnivore like this
subsisting in it. And Goodness only knows of what other beasts it is
the habitat."
"Yes. And, with such creatures in the woods, our journey through them
is likely to prove an interesting one."
"Most interesting. O well," said Rhodes, "we have our revolvers, and
the Dromans have their bows and arrows, to say nothing of their swords.
And they know how to use them, too."
"And that reminds me," I told him: "I haven't reloaded my blunderbuss."
"Save those shells, Bill."
"What for?"
"So we can reload them."
"Reload them? Do you think we'll be able to do that in this world
called Drome."
"Why not?"
"But how--?"
Rhodes turned like a flash.
"Hear that?" he said. "By the great Nimrod, another one!"
The darkness still lay impenetrable, pitchy. We flashed our lights
into the trees, this way and that, all about us; but no eyes were seen
gleaming at us, nothing was seen moving save the shadows, and not the
faintest sound was heard.
The Dromans were listening intently, but it was patent that they had
not heard that sound which had whirled Rhodes about; nor had I heard it
myself.
"Are you sure," I queried, "that there was a sound?"
"I most certainly thought that I heard something."
"Look!" I cried, pointing upward.
Through openings in the foliage, were to be seen pale flickerings of
light.
"Thank Goodness," Rhodes said, "we'll soon again have light. I hope
that this time it will last."
And we soon did--the strong mystic, and yet strangely misty, light
pervading the mysterious and dreadful wood, the flickerings and flashes
overhead soon opalescent and as beautiful as ever.
We at once (Ondonarkus having picked up his arrow and Zenvothunbro
drawn his from the body of the cat) left that spot, to make our way
deeper and deeper into that forest, which harbored enemies so terrible
and so treacherous.
"Why," I queried, "didn't we camp up there on rocks, where it would
have been impossible (save in one of these periods of darkness) for
anything to approach us unseen? We had made a day's good journey; and
here we have gone and left a place of safety to camp somewhere in this
horrible wood."
"What," returned Milton Rhodes, "would that have been but postponing
the inevitable? For into these trees we should have had to go, sooner
or later, and the thing would have been watching for us just the same.
As you say, we had made a good journey for the day; well, aren't we
making it better?"
"It isn't ended yet."
"This place, after all, Bill, may not be so bad as it seems."
"Well, there is one consolation," I remarked: "there is no danger of
our starving to death in this lovely Dante's Inferno. Look at all the
fruit and nuts and things."
"Yes. From that point of view, the place is a veritable Garden of the
Hesperides."
At length we reached the stream, considerably larger than I had
expected to find it. At this point where we struck it, the water was
deep, the current a gentle one. The rich forest growth hung out over
the surface for some distance. There was a soft rustling of leaves, for
some of the branches dipped into the water and were swaying to and fro.
This and the faint, melancholy whisper of the gliding element were all
that broke the heavy, deathlike stillness. It was a placid, a lovely
scene.
The attainment of this their objective seemed to give our Dromans much
pleasure; but, save for the fact that there was now no danger of our
perishing of thirst, I could not see that we were any better off than
we had been.
I thought that this would be the end of our march, now a long one
indeed. But the Dromans merely paused, then started down the stream;
and, of course, along with them went Rhodes and myself.
At times we had literally to force our way through the dense and
tangled undergrowth; then we would be moving through lovely aisles--
"And many a walk traversed
Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm."
We pushed on for perhaps two miles, never moving far from the stream,
and then made camp in a beautiful open spot, over which, however, the
great branches formed an unbroken canopy of leaves.
A guard was arranged for the night. Rhodes had the first watch.
It was during my vigil that it came--a sudden, fierce, frightful
scream, which awoke every member of our little party. It came from
somewhere down the river, and it was replete with terror and agony; it
was a sound that made the very air quiver and throb. It seemed human,
and yet I told myself that it simply could not be. And then it ceased,
as suddenly as it had come, and all was still again, save for the
gentle, sad whispering of the water.
"What," I exclaimed, my voice, however, low and guarded, "could it have
been? It sounded human, but I know that that sound did not come from
the throat of a man or a woman."
"I think you are right, Bill," said Milton Rhodes. "What it was--well,
that seems to be a mystery to the Dromans themselves."
I turned and saw Drorathusa, who had just issued from the tent,
standing beside Ondonarkus and engaged in hurried and whispered
dialogue, the troubled looks which she incessantly directed into the
forest, in that quarter whence had come that scream, advertising dread
and something for which I can not find a name.
"Evidently," Rhodes observed, "they know but little more about this
place and the things in it than we do ourselves."
"And that is virtually nothing."
"Did you," he asked abruptly, "hear something else?"
"Something else? When?"
"Something besides that scream. And while it was filling the air. And
just afterwards."
"I heard nothing else. Did you?"
"I believe that I did."
"What?"
"I can't say," was his answer. "I wish that I could."
"Well," I said, "all we know is that there is something sneaking or
prowling about in this wood, that it has just got a victim and that, in
all probability, it means to get one of us--maybe all of us."
Rhodes nodded, rather rueful of visage.
"We were fortunate enough," he added "to kill two
carnivores--snake-cats; I wonder if we shall be as fortunate the next
time. For there is another thing waiting, sneaking, watching, biding
its time."
"Another, yes," said I. "But another _what_?"