"What Golden Goddess?"
"The Golden Goddess whose symbol led him here. He does not know what it
is. He stole it by murdering one of our own messengers for it. He did
not _know_ at all; he only heard the tales that some relate about her.
They are false tales."
"Did he tell you how he got it?"
"He was boasting to me, trying to get me to tell what I knew about her
dwelling-place. I would not, that is why he hurt me."
"Why did you come back, whatever-your-name?"
"My name is Nokomee, and I came back to tell you something you need to
know. Leave these others, and you will live! Stay with them, you will be
slain with them. We do not allow such as he to come among us, golden
girl or no."
"I cannot leave my comrades because of danger. What kind of man do you
think me?"
"I do not care! I can only tell you. This is a secret place, where we
remain hidden from the men of earth. I know what happens to those who
stray upon our secrets! Go, and think no more to pry into treasure tales
of this mountain land. It is not for such as you. Go, before it is too
late. I cannot hold back the death from you."
I laughed. I thought of the Koreans who had deserted, of their talk
about the fires at night, of demons and haunted mountains ahead.
"We came a long way on the track of Barto's tale of treasure from which
he brought the golden girl. It will take more than words to frighten us
away."
"Do not laugh! I try to save you from something even worse than death
that can come to you. I want to return to you the favor that you did me.
If you do not listen to me, how can I help you?" Her voice took on a
plaintive, charming note; she smiled a half-smile of complete witchery.
A high, keening cry came suddenly from the slopes above us, and she
raised on her toes as if to spring away.
"They come, my friends! I must leave you. I can only tell you to stay
close by your fire at night. I cannot say what fate will strike you. I
cannot help you. Go back, friend who would live, go back!"
She turned and sprang lightly up the slope toward the sound of the cry,
half human, half beast-like, that she had called "her friends." It had
sounded to me like the cry of a wolf, or a cat-man, anything but human.
But people can make odd sounds, and imitate beasts. Still it had been an
eerie sound that gave me a foreboding, added to her warning words. What
kind of people were these, who wore leather and jewels and used bows
that might have come off an Assyrian wall painting?
Came a tumult above, the high clear blast of some horn, a dozen eerie
cries hardly human--a rush and a pounding in the earth as though a party
had ridden off on heavy, full-size horses. No Manchurian pony ever made
such a sound on soft ground!
Polter and Noldi came back about an hour later. I had dragged the big
Barto into a tent and made him comfortable. He was snoring peacefully.
Polter squatted down beside me, folding his long form like a jackknife.
"That thing _was_ a ship, Keele," he said. There was a husky excitement,
repressed but still obvious about him. I grunted.
"It landed among some big timber on the south end of the mountain. We
got pretty close, enough to see the sides of the thing. Men busy around
it, we couldn't get too close, afraid they'd see us."
I started, a pulse of unreasoning fear, of terrific interest, ran
through me. I asked in a voice I couldn't keep calm, "What kind of men,
Hank? I saw reports of such ships in the papers, no one got close enough
to see _that_ much. Newspapers called them illusions!"
"They're not our kind of men; they are something very different. I don't
know just how to tell you, besides I couldn't be sure. But they seem to
be a people--" He stopped. "I'd rather you'd see it yourself. You
wouldn't believe me."
Noldi came out of the tent where Barto was still snoring. He came over
and squatted across the fire, eyeing me strangely.
"What happened to the big jerk, Carl?" he asked, a little tremor of
anger in his voice.
"I've got to tell you fellows we're in trouble," I began. I did not
believe that the girl's people would ignore Jake's attack upon her.
Hank looked at the slender man from New York's East Side. "What's the
matter with Barto?"
"S'got a bruise on his jaw the size of a goose-egg. Like a mule kicked
him. Scratched up quite a bit. I just wondered. He's unconscious, too; I
couldn't wake him up."
"We may be in for it," I went on. "When I got back to camp, Hank had a
girl. He'd thrown her down, was struggling with her. I had to put him
asleep to stop it. Didn't want trouble with her people."
Noldi glanced at the torn place in the soft sod where the scuffle had
taken place. I had unconsciously nodded toward it. He got up, walked
over, picked something out of the grass.
"Some girl, wearing this kind of stuff!"
He handed the glittering bauble to Polter. It was a necklace of
emeralds, with a pendant of gold in which was set a big blue stone that
I couldn't recognize, maybe a diamond, maybe something else. It looked
almighty valuable, each stone was as big as a man's thumbnail. It had
snapped, lain there unnoticed by either of us.
Noldi looked at me a little venomously.
"Looks as if you were a little premature, letting her go. We should have
found out where she gets this kind of sparkle first!"
"Seemed the safest thing to do. We are only four, how could we handle
her friends?"
"Bah, they wouldn't have known where she was. We could have kept her
till we were good and ready to let her go."