THE FORM THAT CREPT.
Again we searched the house from top to bottom. Again we led the
dogs into every nook and cranny. Again they sniffed anxiously in the
storeroom, but gave up the quest after a moment or so. In our search
of the greater part of the house the dogs had seemed more bored than
anything else. We had led them to the dog that had been killed, before
attempting to enter the house, and they smelled at his neck cautiously
and drew back with low growls. If the gorilla had been in the house,
they would surely have scented him and warned us. The only time they
gave any indication at all of interest, far less of excitement, was
when they sniffed at the storeroom door. Once inside, they moved about
aimlessly.
We debated our next move. The gorilla simply could not be in the house.
With his ferocity, he would surely have made a move to attack one or
another of us during our searchings. At last Arthur found a sign that
reassured us as to his absence without lessening in the least the
mystery of his means of escape. Something had led him to scout around
the edge of the clearing surrounding the house. He straightened up with
a shout.
"Look here!"
We ran to him and looked where he pointed. There, on the earth, just
beneath the overhanging limb of the first of the jungle trees, were
the prints of strangely handlike toes.
"Here's where he jumped for the lowest limb there," said Evan
excitedly. "See?"
Directly above us a heavy limb spread out from the trunk of the tree.
Evidently the gorilla had leaped from that spot. How he had run across
the moonlit lawn under our very eyes remained inexplicable. Thinking
back, however, I remembered that once or twice wisps of infrequent
cloud had temporarily obscured the moon. Could he have seized one of
those moments of darkness? It seemed impossible, but there was no other
explanation that could be made.
Somewhat reassured, we entered the house again. One of us stayed out on
the veranda, however, and watched to make sure the beast would attempt
no daring daylight rush on our stronghold. We planned to tether several
of the dogs that night to the piles which raised the house from the
ground.
Evan was on the porch. He peered in at the window suddenly.
"I'm going to take a look in the servants' quarters," he said abruptly.
"It's just occurred to me that the beast may have hidden in there and
made his break for the jungle from there. That would shorten the run he
would have to make."
He moved away. I went back and tried to help Alicia prepare some food
for us all. We had had nothing since the night before and all were
ravenous. Arthur was sitting in the big front room, his head buried in
his hands, his rifle leaning on the arm of his chair. I put my rifle
against the wall and began to open the tins of preserved food, while
Alicia donned an apron and with a quaintly housewifely air lighted a
spirit lamp and heated water for our tea. Mrs. Braymore was gravely
tasting the tinned butter and making a wry face. It is poor stuff
until you get used to it.
As I worked, I watched Alicia appreciatively, and far back in my mind
a little germ of hope sprang up. It suddenly occurred to me that she
had never shown that intense affection for Arthur one expects a woman
to show for the man she is going to marry. She appeared fond enough of
him, but she seemed nearly as fond of Evan. I remembered what I had
been told, that the three of them had been raised together as children
so they were little less than brothers and sister.
That was Alicia's attitude. She treated Arthur as an elder brother of
whom she was immensely fond, but she did not treat him as a lover. It
was queer that, with drums beating rhythmically night and day in the
bush all around us, and in momentary danger from a monstrous gorilla, I
should stop and think of romance and the peculiarly trivial shades of
affection Alicia might show.
She turned and smiled at me just then.
"You look like a sword," she said mischievously, "a sword beaten into a
can opener."
Mrs. Braymore joined in her smile. I suppose I must have looked rather
queer. A heavy cartridge belt was slung about my waist, and two
dull-metal automatics were stuck rakishly into it. I had not shaved for
three days. Every moment was too full of suspense to allow for thinking
of such minor things as shaving.
"Well," I remarked amiably, "since it looks as if our friends in the
bush are going to do as Evan has suggested and yell themselves into
exhaustion without bothering us, and I shall soon revert to peaceable
pursuits, that doesn't matter. A sword is only useful on occasion, but
a can opener links us with civilization."
"It would seem odd," said Alicia, "to have some one bring one's mail
in the morning, or to use a telephone."
"There's a mail once in two weeks at Ticao," I said, "but it's four
weeks from England usually and often six."
Mrs. Braymore joined in the conversation. "I should like to receive an
invitation to tea," she said wistfully. "I should like to go somewhere
to tea and have people talk interestedly of poetry, and the approaching
marriage of somebody's daughter, and what the curate said about the
possibility of repairing the parish house."
We all laughed at the idea. I set down one of the tins of potted meat
and reached for another.
"For myself----" I began and stopped short, every muscle tense.
On the veranda outside the house I had heard a sound, the creaking of a
board as a heavy weight was put cautiously upon it. There was something
infinitely furtive in the sound. I listened and heard nothing more, but
was oppressed by a sense of danger. The sound had come from the front
of the house. I drew an automatic from my belt and silently passed it
to Alicia. She had heard nothing, but my expression warned her and she
took it quickly. Mrs. Braymore took the other. I picked up my rifle
from the side wall and tiptoed through the house toward the front. I
heard an almost unbelievable slight sound again from the porch. The
door into the front room was standing open. I slipped silently up to
the threshold.
Arthur had heard. He was still sitting in the chair, but he was alert
and ready. His eyes were fixed on the window some fifteen feet from
him, and he was slowly and carefully bringing his rifle to bear. The
sun was shining from without and struck upon the curtains that hung
inside. Evan had made his house ready for the visitors he expected, and
every window was curtained.
There was a moment of breath-taking suspense. Arthur, still seated lest
the sound of his rising alarm whoever or whatever was outside, was
bringing his rifle to his shoulder. I slipped into the room and came
to his side, my own rifle ready. Our eyes were fixed upon the window.
Then the slanting rays of the sun flung a shadow upon the curtain. The
thing was not yet before the window, but its shadow moved on before
it because of the position of the rising sun. We saw, cast in perfect
clearness upon the flimsy cloth, the silhouette of the head of the
gorilla! Its small ears lay back, its jaw protruded in that fearful
ferocity of the anthropoid tribe, and we saw it peering from right to
left in suspicious cunning. I held my breath, waiting for the moment
when we could fire.
The head turned sharply, and I thought I saw the nostrils quivering.
Then, abruptly, it vanished, and a dog burst into frantic barking and
hysterical yelping on the veranda. Another instant and the dog screamed
in terror. There was a crash against the wall of the house, and the
yelping became a moan.
Arthur and I had dashed for the door and now rushed down the veranda
with hearts thumping madly. One of the dogs was writhing in agony on
the floor. It had been flung against the house with terrific force and
now lay with broken ribs and backbone, dying. The gorilla had vanished.
Evan appeared with his rifle ready, out of breath. "What's up?" he
demanded. "The beast again?"
Arthur swore hysterically. "The damned beast is here!" he cried. "It's
_here_! It's hiding somewhere about!"
We were all thoroughly reckless by now. We went after the huge ape with
the temerity that would have made the blood of any of us run cold in
a sober moment. We penetrated every corner of the house. We went over
every bit of the grounds. We clambered upon the roof and searched
there in foolhardy indifference to the danger we might be in if we only
located the animal.
"I think it was hiding in the servants' quarters," said Evan grimly.
"I saw signs of its having been there. It must have grown shy when I
explored the place and it probably slipped off toward the house to
escape me. I don't see why it didn't make for the woods, though."
None of us understood, but we went about our search as before. We found
absolutely nothing. At last we stopped and stared at one another.
"We would have killed it in another moment," said Arthur despairingly,
"but the dog saw it and yelped. Then it ran."
"Could it have made the woods before we got outside?"
"Heaven only knows," said Arthur wearily. "I begin to believe the
natives have bewitched the thing to kill us all."
"How many dogs have we left?" asked Evan suddenly.
There were four or five of Evan's animals, and one or two of the
village dogs had begun to lurk about the house in hopes of food. There
was none left for them in the deserted village.
"We'll tie up the dogs," said Evan. "We'll fasten one on the veranda at
the front, and another in the rear of the house. We'll put two on the
ground below, tethered to the piles, and spread the others in the rooms
here. Then the beast will have to kill them before it can get at as,
and we'll have some warning."
We began to improvise collars for the native dogs and scattered the
others about as Evan had suggested. When we had finished, as far as
we could see there was absolutely no way for the gorilla to emerge
from his hiding place--if he were hiding in the house--without being
instantly detected by a dog. Certainly, he could not reach the house
from the bush without discovery and an alarm being given.
With a dog in every room, dogs on the veranda, and others underneath
the building, we should have felt safe, but did not. There was
something uncanny in the appearances and disappearances of the
monstrous ape that left us apprehensive even when we had taken every
possible precaution to provide for its instant discovery if it made
another attempt to reach us.
The pertinacity of the beast was appalling. To think of a colossal
anthropoid with the cunning of the devil himself, the strength of seven
men, and all the malignant hatred that possessed this one, to think of
such an animal lurking about seeking an opportunity to wreak vengeance
on one of our number was horrible. And it would not stop with one of
us if more than one were within its reach. Once in a killing rage, a
gorilla goes mad with blood lust. It would tear and rend, would crush
and utterly destroy.
We were white and nervous from the strain long before. Now we went
about with something akin to hysteria just beneath the surface. There
was nothing we could _do_! We had to wait for the beast to reappear,
knowing that when it did, its coming would be cautious and cunning, its
patience infinite, its strength colossal and its hatred fiendish. Any
or all of us might expect at any instant to be gripped by a hairy arm
of incredible power, to see the bestial face of that demoniacal animal
grimacing at us in utter malignance. And we had before us the picture
of the vision that would confront us in such a case. The picture taken
from the native girl's retina was warning. Little, evil eyes glittering
fiercely, flat, horrible nose above a terrible mouth parted in insane
rage, and discolored fangs showing above the blackened lips.
Action of any sort would have been a relief. We went through the
morning, making desperate efforts to stave off hysteria, and aware that
at any moment one of us might crack beneath the strain.
Noon came. We ate mechanically. Evan was standing up better than any of
the rest of us. Alicia was quiet and still. Her eyes alone showed the
tension she felt. We were all keyed up to an almost unbearable pitch.
Queerly enough, in our absorption in the threat of the gorilla, we had
almost forgotten the drums that resounded on every side of us from the
bush. It was Mrs. Braymore who called our attention to them.
"I wonder what's the matter with the drums?" she said wearily. "I've
been noticing them for the last ten minutes."
We listened. The monotonous rhythm was still going on, rolling through
the hot midday air in muffled waves of sound. The drums seemed louder
than they had been.
"They're beating more rapidly," Evan remarked in a puzzled tone. "They
were going along slowly. Now they're quite fast."
Only one of the drums had quickened its beat, however. The others
thumped on monotonously. About four o'clock in the afternoon--allowing
the length of time necessary for a runner to get from the first village
to another--a second began to beat more furiously, and shortly after
dark, the third joined in the trilogy. Our dogs were moving restlessly
about, chafing because of being tied. We all were increasingly anxious,
but this new danger had, strangely enough, the effect of steadying us.
We waited a long time, and at last the two women lay down to try
to rest. Through the moonlight night the drums rolled and rumbled.
Standing out on the veranda with my rifle in my hands, I listened
intently. I saw with some disquiet that the night threatened to become
cloudy, but hoped that the dogs would give warning of any danger that
might impend. For an hour I stood there, looking and listening. There
was no mistaking the new note of the drums. They meant resolution,
renewed activity. Faintly, beneath their muttering, I caught a high,
sustained ululation. The yelling of the natives had not been audible
before. Evidently they were in perfect frenzy. That meant that an
attack was imminent.
Arthur came out on the veranda beside me. He listened as I was
listening.
"They'll attempt to rush us in the morning, I suppose," he remarked
grimly. "They'll hardly try it before dawn, though. Blacks don't like
the nighttime."
One of the dogs tied to a pile below the house growled softly. The dog
on the veranda echoed the growl. I glanced at him quickly. He had risen
and was standing tense, looking toward the edge of the bush. He growled
again.
At just this moment, one of the little wisps of cloud overshadowed the
moon and left the courtyard in darkness. I moved quietly over beside
the dog and felt the hairs on his neck bristling. Finding him staring
steadfastly in one direction, I strained my eyes trying to pierce the
darkness. The cloud thinned a trifle and objects were dimly visible. I
saw a shape coming slowly and cautiously toward the house, a shape that
moved hesitatingly and furtively.
Arthur exclaimed softly. "Murray, it's the gorilla!"
The figure was hunched up and apelike. It moved awkwardly toward us.
The cloud thinned still more and we could distinguish its location
clearly, though it was still impossible for us to see distinctly.
"For the body," Arthur whispered.
We raised our rifles together and aimed carefully. Arthur's rifle
flashed, and mine an instant later. We heard a choking, beastlike cry,
and the figure toppled and fell.