"You are right. Let us take the gems and gold from the chests and flee,
using the secret passageway."
"And La Mon?"
"He can watch until we are ready to flee. Then--why divide the treasure
three ways?"
A faint smile touched the Rat's malevolent features. Then a sudden
thought smote him.
"He," indicating the corpse on the floor, "said, 'I got here first.'
Does that mean Kane was pursuing him here?" And as the Wolf nodded
impatiently the other turned to the chests with chattering haste.
The flickering candle on the rough table lighted up a strange and wild
scene. The light, uncertain and dancing, gleamed redly in the slowly
widening lake of blood in which the dead man lay; it danced upon
the heaps of gems and coins emptied hastily upon the floor from the
brass-bound chests that ranged the walls; and it glittered in the eyes
of the Wolf with the same gleam which sparkled from his sheathed dagger.
The chests were empty, their treasure lying in a shimmering mass upon
the blood-stained floor. The Wolf stopped and listened. Outside was
silence. There was no moon, and Le Loup's keen imagination pictured the
dark slayer, Solomon Kane, gliding through the blackness, a shadow
among shadows. He grinned crookedly; this time the Englishman would be
foiled.
"There is a chest yet unopened," said he, pointing.
The Rat, with a muttered exclamation of surprize, bent over the
chest indicated. With a single, catlike motion, the Wolf sprang upon
him, sheathing his dagger to the hilt in the Rat's back, between the
shoulders. The Rat sagged to the floor without a sound.
[Illustration: "He sheathed his dagger to the hilt in the Rat's back."]
"Why divide the treasure two ways?" murmured Le Loup, wiping his blade
upon the dead man's doublet. "Now for La Mon."
He stepped toward the door; then stopped and shrank back.
* * * * *
At first he thought that it was the shadow of a man who stood in the
entrance; then he saw that it was a man himself, though so dark and
still he stood that a fantastic semblance of shadow was lent him by the
guttering candle.
A tall man, as tall as Le Loup he was, clad in black from head to foot,
in plain, close-fitting garments that somehow suited the somber face.
Long arms and broad shoulders betokened the swordsman, as plainly as
the long rapier in his hand. The features of the man were saturnine
and gloomy. A kind of dark pallor lent him a ghostly appearance in the
uncertain light, an effect heightened by the satanic darkness of his
lowering brows. Eyes, large, deep-set and unblinking, fixed their gaze
upon the bandit, and looking into them, Le Loup was unable to decide
what color they were. Strangely, the mephistophelean trend of the lower
features was offset by a high, broad forehead, though this was partly
hidden by a featherless hat.
That forehead marked the dreamer, the idealist, the introvert, just as
the eyes and the thin, straight nose betrayed the fanatic. An observer
would have been struck by the eyes of the two men who stood there,
facing each other. Eyes of both betokened untold deeps of power, but
there the resemblance ceased.
The eyes of the bandit were hard, almost opaque, with a curious
scintillant shallowness that reflected a thousand changing lights and
gleams, like some strange gem; there was mockery in those eyes, cruelty
and recklessness.
The eyes of the man in black, on the other hand, deep-set and staring
from under prominent brows, were cold but deep; gazing into them, one
had the impression of looking into countless fathoms of ice.
Now the eyes clashed, and the Wolf, who was used to being feared, felt
a strange coolness on his spine. The sensation was new to him--a new
thrill to one who lived for thrills, and he laughed suddenly.
"You are Solomon Kane, I suppose?" he asked, managing to make his
question sound politely incurious.
"I am Solomon Kane." The voice was resonant and powerful. "Are you
prepared to meet your God?"
"Why, _Monsieur_," Le Loup answered, bowing, "I assure you I am as
ready as I ever will be. I might ask _Monsieur_ the same question."
"No doubt I stated my inquiry wrongly," Kane said grimly. "I will
change it: Are you prepared to meet your master, the Devil?"
"As to that, _Monsieur_"--Le Loup examined his finger nails with
elaborate unconcern--"I must say that I can at present render a most
satisfactory account to his Horned Excellency, though really I have no
intention of so doing--for a while at least."
Le Loup did not wonder as to the fate of La Mon; Kane's presence in the
cave was sufficient answer that did not need the trace of blood on his
rapier to verify it.
"What I wish to know, _Monsieur_," said the bandit, "is why in the
Devil's name have you harassed my band as you have, and how did you
destroy that last set of fools?"
"Your last question is easily answered, sir," Kane replied. "I myself
had the tale spread that the hermit possessed a store of gold, knowing
that would draw your scum as carrion draws vultures. For days and
nights I have watched the hut, and tonight, when I saw your villains
coming, I warned the hermit, and together we went among the trees back
of the hut. Then, when the rogues were inside, I struck flint and steel
to the train I had laid, and flame ran through the trees like a red
snake until it reached the powder I had placed beneath the hut floor.
Then the hut and thirteen sinners went to hell in a great roar of flame
and smoke. True, one escaped, but him I had slain in the forest had not
I stumbled and fallen upon a broken root, which gave him time to elude
me."
"_Monsieur_," said Le Loup with another low bow, "I grant you the
admiration I must needs bestow on a brave and shrewd foeman. Yet tell
me this: Why have you followed me as a wolf follows deer?"
"Some moons ago," said Kane, his frown becoming more menacing, "you
and your fiends raided a small village down the valley. You know the
details better than I. There was a girl there, a mere child, who,
hoping to escape your lust, fled up the valley; but you, you jackal
of hell, you caught her and left her, violated and dying. I found her
there, and above her dead form I made up my mind to hunt you down and
kill you."
"H'm," mused the Wolf. "Yes, I remember the wench. _Mon Dieu_, so the
softer sentiments enter into the affair! _Monsieur_, I had not thought
you an amorous man; be not jealous, good fellow, there are many more
wenches."
"Le Loup, take care!" Kane exclaimed, a terrible menace in his voice,
"I have never yet done a man to death by torture, but by God, sir, you
tempt me!"
The tone, and more especially the unexpected oath, coming as it did
from Kane, slightly sobered Le Loup; his eyes narrowed and his hand
moved toward his rapier. The air was tense for an instant; then the
Wolf relaxed elaborately.
"Who was the girl?" he asked idly, "Your wife?"
"I never saw her before," answered Kane.
"_Nom d'un nom!_" swore the bandit. "What sort of a man are you,
_Monsieur_, who takes up a feud of this sort merely to avenge a wench
unknown to you?"
"That, sir, is my own affair; it is sufficient that I do so."
Kane could not have explained, even to himself, nor did he ever seek an
explanation within himself. A true fanatic, his promptings were reasons
enough for his actions.
"You are right, _Monsieur_." Le Loup was sparring now for time;
casually he edged backward inch by inch, with such consummate acting
skill that he aroused no suspicion even in the hawk who watched him.
"_Monsieur_," said he, "possibly you will say that you are merely
a noble cavalier, wandering about like a true Galahad, protecting
the weaker; but you and I know different. There on the floor is the
equivalent to an emperor's ransom. Let us divide it peaceably; then if
you like not my company, why--_nom d'un nom!_--we can go our separate
ways."
Kane leaned forward, a terrible brooding threat growing in his cold
eyes. He seemed like a great condor about to launch himself upon his
victim.
"Sir, do you assume me to be as great a villain as yourself?"
Suddenly Le Loup threw back his head, his eyes dancing and leaping with
a wild mockery and a kind of insane recklessness. His shout of laughter
sent the echoes flying.
"Gods of hell! No, you fool, I do not class you with myself! _Mon
Dieu_, Monsieur Kane, you have a task indeed if you intend to avenge
all the wenches who have known my favors!"
"Shades of death! Shall I waste time in parleying with this base
scoundrel!" Kane snarled in a voice suddenly blood-thirsting, and his
lean frame flashed forward like a bent bow suddenly released.
At the same instant Le Loup with a wild laugh bounded backward with a
movement as swift as Kane's. His timing was perfect; his back-flung
hands struck the table and hurled it aside, plunging the cave into
darkness as the candle toppled and went out.
Kane's rapier sang like an arrow in the dark as he thrust blindly and
ferociously.
"_Adieu_, Monsieur Galahad!" The taunt came from somewhere in front
of him, but Kane, plunging toward the sound with the savage fury of
baffled wrath, caromed against a blank wall that did not yield to his
blow. From somewhere seemed to come an echo of a mocking laugh.
Kane whirled, eyes fixed on the dimly outlined entrance, thinking his
foe would try to slip past him and out of the cave; but no form bulked
there, and when his groping hands found the candle and lighted it, the
cave was empty, save for himself and the dead men on the floor.
_3. The Chant of the Drums_
Across the dusky waters the whisper came: boom, boom, boom!--a sullen
reiteration. Far away and more faintly sounded a whisper of different
timbre: thrum, throom, thrum! Back and forth went the vibrations as the
throbbing drums spoke to each other. What tales did they carry? What
monstrous secrets whispered across the sullen, shadowy reaches of the
unmapped jungle?
"This, you are sure, is the bay where the Spanish ship put in?"
"Yes, _Senhor_; the negro swears this is the bay where the white man
left the ship alone and went into the jungle."
Kane nodded grimly.
"Then put me ashore here, alone. Wait seven days; then if I have not
returned and if you have no word of me, set sail wherever you will."
"Yes, _Senhor_."
The waves slapped lazily against the sides of the boat that carried
Kane ashore. The village that he sought was on the river bank but set
back from the bay shore, the jungle hiding it from sight of the ship.
Kane had adopted what seemed the most hazardous course, that of going
ashore by night, for the reason that he knew, if the man he sought
were in the village, he would never reach it by day. As it was, he was
taking a most desperate chance in daring the nighttime jungle, but all
his life he had been used to taking desperate chances. Now he gambled
his life upon the slim chance of gaining the negro village under cover
of darkness and unknown to the villagers.
At the beach he left the boat with a few muttered commands, and as the
rowers put back to the ship which lay anchored some distance out in the
bay, he turned and engulfed himself in the blackness of the jungle.
Sword in one hand, dagger in the other, he stole forward, seeking to
keep pointed in the direction from which the drums still muttered and
grumbled.
He went with the stealth and easy movement of a leopard, feeling his
way cautiously, every nerve alert and straining, but the way was not
easy. Vines tripped him and slapped him in the face, impeding his
progress; he was forced to grope his way between the huge boles of
towering trees, and all through the underbrush about him sounded vague
and menacing rustlings and shadows of movement. Thrice his foot touched
something that moved beneath it and writhed away, and once he glimpsed
the baleful glimmer of feline eyes among the trees. They vanished,
however, as he advanced.
Thrum, thrum, thrum, came the ceaseless monotone of the drums: war and
death (they said); blood and lust; human sacrifice and human feast! The
soul of Africa (said the drums); the spirit of the jungle; the chant of
the gods of outer darkness, the gods that roar and gibber, the gods men
knew when dawns were young, beast-eyed, gaping-mouthed, huge-bellied,
bloody-handed, the Black Gods (sang the drums).
All this and more the drums roared and bellowed to Kane as he worked
his way through the forest. Somewhere in his soul a responsive chord
was smitten and answered. You too are of the night (sang the drums);
there is the strength of darkness, the strength of the primitive in
you; come back down the ages; let us teach you, let us teach you
(chanted the drums).
Kane stepped out of the thick jungle and came upon a plainly defined
trail. Beyond, through the trees came the gleam of the village fires,
flames glowing through the palisades. Kane walked down the trail
swiftly.
He went silently and warily, sword extended in front of him, eyes
straining to catch any hint of movement in the darkness ahead, for the
trees loomed like sullen giants on each hand; sometimes their great
branches intertwined above the trail and he could see only a slight way
ahead of him.
Like a dark ghost he moved along the shadowed trail; alertly he stared
and harkened; yet no warning came first to him, as a great, vague bulk
rose up out of the shadows and struck him down, silently.
_4. The Black God_
Thrum, thrum, thrum! Somewhere, with deadening monotony, a
cadence was repeated, over and over, bearing out the same theme:
"Fool--fool--fool!" Now it was far away, now he could stretch out his
hand and almost reach it. Now it merged with the throbbing in his head
until the two vibrations were as one: "Fool--fool--fool--fool----"
The fogs faded and vanished. Kane sought to raise his hand to his head,
but found that he was bound hand and foot. He lay on the floor of a
hut--alone? He twisted about to view the place. No, two eyes glimmered
at him from the darkness. Now a form took shape, and Kane, still mazed,
believed that he looked on the man who had struck him unconscious. Yet
no; this man could never strike such a blow. He was lean, withered and
wrinkled. The only thing that seemed alive about him were his eyes, and
they seemed like the eyes of a snake.
The man squatted on the floor of the hut, near the doorway, naked save
for a loin-cloth and the usual paraphernalia of bracelets, anklets and
armlets. Weird fetishes of ivory, bone and hide, animal and human,
adorned his arms and legs. Suddenly and unexpectedly he spoke in
English.
"Ha, you wake, white man? Why you come here, eh?"
Kane asked the inevitable question, following the habit of the
Caucasian.
"You speak my language--how is that?"
The black man grinned.
"I slave--long time, me boy. Me, N'Longa, ju-ju man, me, great fetish.
No black man like me! You white man, you hunt brother?"