HOSTILE NEIGHBOURS
Doubtless I grew absorbed in thinking, as we made our way to the base of
the hill, for I was startled by a singular cry from the Link.
What I saw confused me for a moment. Three Links, taller than any except
the chief of the tribe I had joined, were darting toward us with the
wildest of gestures,—three Links as black as tar. Inasmuch as Fatty was
nearly as dark as they, and considering the treatment I had already
received, I felt no alarm and failed to comprehend what the situation
meant.
Like a leopard for quickness, Fatty darted away, uttering sounds of
fright. Instantly one of the Links approaching started on his trail in
hot pursuit, a club in his hand which was glinting with colour in the
rays of the setting sun. I was surprised and somewhat amused as I saw
the clever Fatty elude the larger creature and gain the trees. Once in
the cover he swung himself upward and out of sight with all the agility
of a monkey.
Suddenly the two I had failed to watch were upon me. I was thrown down,
pinioned to the ground a second and then dragged up, hastily. Then the
pair began to hustle me off with astonishing force and with method in
their frenzy, for they attempted to get me away as nearly unharmed as
possible.
“Here!” I cried in a moment, endeavouring to check my progress, “let go
of me—you devil!”
I had hardly noted their faces, but now, as I struggled, I saw that the
two were tremendously like a pair of burly Negroes. That they were
Links, as much as the others were, that indeed they belonged to the very
same species and genus, there could be no doubt, but they were as widely
differentiated from “my” Links as a black ant is from one that is red.
I jerked myself loose from the grip of one, by losing a part of my
shirt, and struck him a blow on the point of his jaw that laid him flat
on his back, stunned and helpless. I was annoyed by the liberties they
were taking, more than angered or rendered desperate. I therefore kicked
the other in the stomach and beheld him double like a hinge. A chorus of
cries arose at this and I looked about to discover ten or a dozen more
of the fellows, all black, swarming up the slope to assist their
friends.
At that moment the third one, who had ceased pursuing Fatty and
returned, launched himself upon me from the rear and bore me down. Fight
as I would, he was the equal in strength of three of my build and easily
kept me on the ground till four of the others, quickly followed by their
companions, rushed to the scene and secured my arms and legs.
There was no resentment, as far as I could determine, for the blows I
had given the two. The pair, in fact, soon regained their senses and
breath, respectively, and joined their kind, in a dazed and half-hearted
manner. I was aware that I was being considerately handled, though
roughly, to be sure, and was quite unable to think of a reason, until
the fellows began again to convey me away. I realised then that they
were actually abducting me and proceeding straight away from the camp I
had left. Had I been a thing of rare value and highly prized by the
creatures, they could not have acted with more care to avoid inflicting
an injury on my body, nor with more resolution in their obvious plan to
carry me away to their own retreat.
In the midst of the Babel of tongues and confusion of getting me across
a chasm, to which we came with surprising promptness, a cry resounded
through the cleft, and instantly a force of the red Links leaped down on
top of the Blacks and commenced a furious attack. I was dropped as if I
had been a cumbersome rock, but landing on my feet and clearing myself
of the scrambling fellows, who shot forward to meet the onslaught of the
Reds, I whipped out my knife, prepared to defend myself at any cost and
to fight for my friends, if I mingled at all in the fray.
The battle with the huge ourangs had been hot enough, but this present
combat exceeded all bounds, in the rage of the creatures pitted against
each other. I could see at once that Reds and Blacks were old-time foes,
as sure to fight on contact as are the different coloured ants. They
smote at one another with the wildest ferocity. Club crashed on stone,
and rock thudded fearfully on skull and ribs, till blood splashed widely
about the place and heads were pulp.
It had all occurred with surprising abruptness. The contending bands
were inextricably mixed; they surged together and swayed from wall to
wall of the chasm, yelling defiance, snarling in wrath, groaning with
agony. The crunch of bones and the thuds of those terrible clubs against
naked flesh were awful to hear, yet the fight was such a whirlwind of
action that no one thing could hold the attention a second, where deaths
and mighty actions, and the crude but deadly club-play made a picture of
such close-knit battle.
One second I noted the great chief of the Reds mow down two of the
Blacks at a single swing of his blood-painted, light-flashing club of
crystal; the next I noted how like the writhing of a snake was the death
contraction of one of my friendly Links. Then the flash of a club
swinging quickly to its living cushion of ribs and flesh made a
brilliant streak against the background of dusky forms. I saw that the
head of this weapon was a massive nugget of gold. In that second I also
detected a movement from the corner of my eye where a black creature,
wounded and desperate, was rising up, club in hand, to strike me down.
It flashed upon me instantly that the Blacks, if they could not possess
me themselves, would rather I were dead than allied with their enemies.
I was standing with my back to the wall, willing to see fair play, but
too wise to become entangled in that medley of physical giants. The
treachery now revealed made me angry in a second. The smell of fight in
my nostrils had been working on my animal nature; a pin-prick would have
been sufficient to arouse all my human frenzy for slaying. I turned
about, burning with wrath, and had no more than struck down the wounded
monster than three others leaped to perform the office in which he had
failed. A reeking club was swinging in toward my head like a shot from a
cannon. I dived below its line of motion and drove home my knife with
all the lust of vengeance. My falling antagonist tripped and overtoppled
the second, destroyed the blow he was about to aim and made him an easy
mark for the dripping rock-crystal that crushed his shoulder and part of
his neck to a boneless mass. The third met another of my friends and
beat him down, only to be killed himself a second later.
Shrieks of agony had rent the air and screams of rage and yells of
triumph made discord as a number of the black Links now fled abruptly
down the chasm to escape. And the fellow with the nugget club turned to
hurl his defiance and to shake his reddened fist at me, as I stood on a
rock in a circle of my friends. The cause of the Reds I had made my
cause; I had slain a Black. The feud between these warring tribes
included myself. I had created deadly enemies in the land of Missing
Links.