STEALING THE ENEMY’S FIRE
No sooner had the demonstration ceased than I hastened up the rock-heap
to the cave. I found the mouth of the place somewhat choked and hard to
enter, but I forced my way over massed-in boulders to a vestibule of the
great treasure-house itself. Then suddenly my hopes were blighted and
failure loomed before me. It was as dark as tar and I had clean
forgotten to fetch a torch!
“But how could I have fetched a torch?” my brain demanded. I had no
civilised matches; I could not have carried a brand all day, for the
sake of having it now, and if I had, the smoke might have attracted the
attention of the Blacks. Had they caught a bear with a torch in his hand
they would unquestionably have desired an explanation. I thought of my
knife, which was steel, and the flints on my arrows. Could I not produce
a spark, ignite some tinder and then make some faggots take fire? Yes, I
could, but the arrows were all in the boat and I had about as much
tinder handy as a fellow could carry in his eye.
In desperation I groped ahead for a rod and nearly broke my neck, by
jolting down an unseen step in the floor. It was useless to tackle the
cavern in this inky blackness; I might easily get boiled to death by the
fountain of scalding water. In bitter regret, I reproached myself for
having come away from camp without consulting the goddess and without
maturing my plans. But any ass should have known the place would be
dark! I acknowledged that I was a fool, and that after all this bother I
should have to give it up. Even if I did come again next day, it would
be no easy matter to fetch a torch, and I might try a hundred times and
not have the luck I had this evening in avoiding those villains, the
Blacks.
More than ready to swear at my folly, mad as a hornet to think of
abandoning all the gold, which was right there, almost within reach of
my hands, I pinched myself viciously and groped my way out to the heap
of rocks at the entrance.
Already a star was shining in the heavens. What good were stars, I would
have liked to know. It was fire I wanted—fire at the end of a stick. A
crazy idea of hunting for something highly inflammable, on which to try
my flint and steel, tried to get started in my brain. I rejected the
notion with scorn. I might as well begin a search for glow-worms or
incandescent electric globes.
“Those fools of Links have got plenty of fire,” I grumbled, spitefully.
“For about two cents I’d kick them all out of their camp and take all
the torches I could carry.”
This bit of pleasantry somewhat restored my humour. I started up from
where I was sitting on the rocks, abruptly, possessed of a great idea.
Why not make the trick worth the winning; why not steal their fire to
light myself in robbing their cave?
In my haste to clamber down from the pile, I fell forward and struck my
hand smartly on something which felt like a collected lot of wood. I was
ready to kick this thing, for bruising my fingers, when I comprehended
that wood was exactly what I required. Grasping one of the branches I
lifted a whole bundle of sticks, all dry, cut neatly of an equal length,
and tied about with some sort of cord. Instantly I thought of the gilded
skeleton—the man who had lived in this place. I believed he had come to
the cavern often, and that doubtless these faggots had been gathered by
himself for torches.
This discovery gave me new enthusiasm. I was calmer, also, and I
therefore resolved to proceed carefully, do nothing rash, and to wait
until the time was propitious before attempting to steal my fire.
Nevertheless I was determined not to give up the game until flatly
beaten. Much luck in the past had made me bolder than I was when I
arrived in the country.
During the half hour following, I crept through the woods, toward the
spot where I had waited for the goddess. I thought it would bring me bad
luck to try any other location. My clubs and the sack, I had left at the
cauldron, along with my bundle of wood. Thus I had nothing to impede my
progress; but the skin in which I was clothed hampered every motion.
Throughout the jungle, various sounds had commenced, for the darkness
was rapidly becoming that of full-fledged night. Through the trees, when
I approached their clearing, I caught the gleam of the fires about which
the Links were cooking their dinner.
Knife in hand, I edged and pushed through the creepers and vines until I
dared go no further. From where I was, I could see very much the same
sort of groups about the fires which had made the picture weird on the
former occasion. But I was actually more excited and eager over the
present enterprise than I had been before, when a fellow-being was in
the game. Doubtless this arose from the greater risk I expected to take.
Impatient as I was, the Links seemed to require an interminable time to
get ready for bed. I selected one and then another of the fires as the
one from which I would filch a brand, but was finally obliged to wait
and see which would be the most favourable to my task. I desired to
select the one furthest from the sleeping places, and yet not too far
from my cover. The one first abandoned by the Links would have answered
well. I watched it narrowly and kept an eye on the Blacks, who were
still lingering about. Long before the fellows had all retired, the fire
became hopeless, so few were the embers left aglow. I was obliged to fix
upon another.
I waited all of two hours, by the end of which time the Links were all
safely asleep, save that watchful old fiend whose acquaintance I had
made on my former visit. When at length he laid himself down for the
night, his position was such that my intended deed had been rendered far
more difficult than I had expected. It became necessary for me to make a
long detour, for I deemed it wise that I should be able to make a
bee-line for cover the second I procured my bit of fire.
In crawling and walking carefully about the tangle, I consumed a lot of
time. My position then was such that by creeping bear-like from the
vines and going straight for my original hiding place, I would pass the
remains of a fire, in which only one or two blazing pieces of wood
remained. Again I drew my knife. With a thumping heart, high up in my
neck, I began this desperate experiment.
A night-bird hooted before I had gone three paces. That alert old
wretch, the sentinel Black, stirred about and turned sleepily over. For
several minutes I remained motionless; then again I moved cautiously
forward. Although I expected the worst possible calamities to happen
every moment, and thought my own breathing would betray my presence, I
neared the fire without arousing the lightest sleeper. Approaching the
burned-out heap, I selected the brand I would take, before I was there.
In consequence of this, I lost no time, but passed silently on, when I
had the precious ember in my possession. Transferring it quickly to my
left hand, in order to conceal its glowing end from any eyes which might
by chance be open, I dragged it on the ground beside me, and headed for
the shelter, which to reach would mean success.
A half chuckle escaped me, at the thought of the Links’ stupidity and my
own adroitness, for the vines were now but a dozen feet away. Yet I was
horribly nervous, not daring to look behind me and fearing that anything
might be happening, now that my back was turned upon the sleeping foe. I
reached the cover in triumph, however, and even crawled to a small open
spot, when suddenly something gave me a vigorous push with its foot.
Instantly then that monstrous old watch Link, recognised me, raised his
club and poised to fetch it down with a blow that should scatter my
brains. I saw him, knew he had caught me, realised that more silently
than I he had followed the singular bear that would steal a brand of
fire, and quick as a gun-spring I shot up against him, butted him hard
in the ribs and we closed, in a duel to the death.
My only thought was—“Choke him off!” I knew that a single yell would
bring an army of foes upon me; I knew he had made no sound before
because of his commendable desire to determine my nature while I was
still unaware of his presence. Now I swiftly determined that not a sound
should he make, unless he did it over my dead body. I was thrice as
vicious as he, I verily believe, as I threw myself in against his body
and fastened my clutch on his throat. I was fierce as only a frightened
and desperate man can be; I was strong as three of my kind, in that
moment of terrible need.
His arms had been raised with the club; the weapon had even been
descending as I thumped him violently backward. Down came the great
rock, but the force of the blow was gone, and the aim was so ruined that
he struck us both on the leg. He dropped the thing as useless, for he
could not have raised it again had he tried. But with his long,
iron-like arms he fought like a fiend, to shove me off, to gouge out my
ribs and to grip my throat as I was gripping his, with all but two of my
fingers. The two fingers gripped the handle of my knife.
The length of his arms was for once against him. I was as close up as
flesh can freeze to flesh. His head was thrust far back; already his
breathing muscles were swelling and labouring beneath my thumbs. We
struggled about in the darkness hither and thither, wrestling, flinging,
treading on roots and branches and exerting the utmost of our strength
to win the battle.
The monster’s muscles were something prodigious; his activity was simply
incredible. I have choked a man to submission in thirty seconds, but it
seemed as if I could never weaken this brute nor reduce him to a state
wherein I could use my knife. He fought me with his feet, scratched me
and kicked my shins. He got his bone-and-wire arms against my stomach at
last and clutched me and pushed me till I thought I should shriek with
pain. Had I not been protected by the bear-skin, I think he would have
killed me, in spite of the tremendous advantage I had gained at the
outset. All this time the only sound was what I made in breathing and
what we made with our scuffling about. It was an ominously silent duel.
Over we toppled, tripped by a creeper, and rolled on the ground among
the vines. He had me under, like a cat with a squirrel, but I felt him
beginning to quiver all over. My grip had not been broken for a moment,
but now it nearly gave way; a weakness was stealing over me, for he was
crushing my ribs where I had received the blow with the nugget club.
This was the particular time when the bear-skin helped me out.
Something smarted my leg then—the brand of fire. I had struck against
it. This made me furious. A gush of hot, new strength welled up in my
veins and along all my sinews. My finger-ends dug in about his wind-pipe
deeper and deeper. I heaved him over; his arms were becoming like lead;
his motions were powerless; all the force seemed slipping from his body.
Knowing my time had come, I gave the knife in my hand a sudden turn and
push against the jugular vein, swelling beneath my pressure, and felt
him shudder in death in a moment.
Until I was sure he would move no more, nor raise a sound, I remained
astride his chest. The stillness then was awful. Not a sound could I
hear but that of my own laboured breathing and the trickle and drip of
this creature’s blood. I admit the dread of it all made me tremble. It
seemed such a ghastly end to my innocent escapade.
But having plunged so deeply into the business, for the sake of a bit of
fire, I did not intend to leave the work unfinished because of this
unavoidable incident. Therefore I caught up the glowing branch, which
had nearly been smothered out as we rolled it in the grass, and blowing
upon it to liven it up, I stole away from that gory arena.