BILDAD TURNS CANNIBAL.
All through that day--for such we shall call it--they floated on without
a single glimpse of the shores, though a good current still existed.
Their sufferings had now reached a point that was almost unendurable.
The emptiness at the stomach and the pangs of hunger had given way to
the fierce pains and the appalling weakness that come to those perishing
of starvation.
For two days, it must be remembered, they had eaten nothing, and for a
week previous three dry crackers apiece had been their daily allowance.
Chutney, with marvelous endurance, retained his strength and affected a
hopefulness he was far from feeling, though, if the truth were known, a
share of his food for a week past had been secretly given to Sir Arthur,
whose illness had roused his compassion.
The colonel was almost too weak to stand--for his previous captivity had
undermined his constitution, while Melton and the Greek made no efforts
to conceal their sufferings.
Bildad, instead of becoming violent, woke up very weak, and lay helpless
on his rug.
It was pitiful to see how they all turned their pockets inside out and
drove their fingers into the crannies of the logs, hoping to discover a
stray crumb. It was useless to fish, for they had nothing to put on the
hook.
After nightfall, as near as Guy could guess, the river became very
narrow and the current increased perceptibly in speed. The steep and
rocky shores seemed scarcely ten yards apart, and overhead hung masses
of stalactite almost close enough to strike with the paddle.
"We are near the end," said Guy, making an effort to speak calmly in
spite of his sufferings. "Hold out a little longer. I feel sure that
we shall be saved."
"Yes, we are near the end," said the colonel, "very near, Chutney. Our
sufferings will soon be over. You deserve a better fate. I wish----"
"No, no, don't talk that way," cried Guy. "You will live to see the
sunlight again--I am sure of it."
The colonel turned over on his side without making a reply.
"If we don't reach the mouth of the cavern in twenty-four hours, I for
one will never see the light of day," said Melton huskily. "I'd hate to
die in this place. It wouldn't be so hard out under the open sky."
"Water! water!" moaned Sir Arthur feebly, and crawling to the edge of
the raft Guy filled his helmet and put it to the sick man's lips. He
drank deeply and sank back on the rugs.
Guy crept cautiously forward to the front of the raft again--for every
motion was a torture--and resumed his watch ahead, straining his eyes to
catch the first glimpse of light that he felt sure must come before
long.
Faster and faster ran the current now and the shores flitted past like
dim specters. The channel became more turbulent and rocky, and the raft
tossed and trembled as it swept over brawling rapids and grated over
unseen obstructions.
When Guy turned toward his companions again they seemed to be all
sleeping, and he envied them their merciful oblivion.
Bildad was muttering excitedly in his own tongue, and as Guy watched him
he tossed his arms and sat bolt upright. The ugly face was frightfully
distorted and the fever-stricken eyes shone with a baleful light. With
an apprehension that he took no pains to disguise Guy watched him
sharply. There was no telling what this savage might do in the delirium
of illness--a delirium aggravated tenfold by the tortures of hunger.
Guy noted with secret uneasiness that no weapon was lying anywhere near.
Melton alone had a revolver, and he was half inclined to waken him and
ask him for it.
Bildad, however, made no attempt to leave his place on the rugs. He kept
on talking to himself at intervals, his eyes staring vacantly out on the
river.
A dingy leopard skin was still bound around his loins, and suddenly
seizing the end of it he began to chew it greedily.
Then he noticed the blood still sticking to his fingers, and placing his
hand in his mouth he sucked it with a hollow noise that made Guy sick.
Suddenly his eyes became fixed and glaring, his hands dropped to his
side, trembling nervously, and his lips parted in a wolfish expression,
that displayed two rows of glistening teeth.
A thrill of horror ran through Guy from head to foot as he saw what had
unmistakably fascinated Bildad's gaze. Two yards distant, facing the
savage, lay Sir Arthur, propped up slightly among the rugs. His head was
thrown back, and in the perspiration, caused probably by his slight
fever, he had torn loose the fore part of his flannel shirt, so that the
throat and part of the breast were fully exposed, and shone clearly in
the soft glow from the fire.
To Chutney Bildad's wolfish gaze admitted of no misconstruction. The
sight of the white flesh had roused the savage's fiercest instincts.
_At that moment Bildad was a cannibal at heart!_
No words can describe Guy's feelings as he realized the awful truth.
At first a deadly faintness threatened to deprive him of all
consciousness. Then came a thrill of strength, and his quick mind sought
some plan of action. There was no weapon within reach. He must waken the
Greek.
"Canaris," he muttered in a low voice, but the word stuck in his throat
and died away in a whisper.
The sound, slight as it was, drew Bildad's attention. A glance at Guy's
frightened countenance told him his horrible design was discovered. His
thick lips parted in a glare of ferocious hatred--the blind fury of a
madman.
He thrust his hand to his side, drew out a long, gleaming knife, and
with a demoniacal laugh sprang at Sir Arthur, brandishing his weapon.
At the first flash of the steel Guy uttered a shout that might have
wakened the seven sleepers, and threw himself across the raft. He fell
short of the African, and staggered to his knees with another wild cry.
The glittering blade wavered a second in mid-air, not ten inches from
Sir Arthur's heart, and then, his eyes flashing and his face distorted
with passion, Bildad turned and threw himself on the man who had
thwarted him.
Guy staggered to his feet in time to meet the shock, and they fell
together with a crash, the madman on top. As he blindly threw out his
arms in self protection he grasped Bildad's wrist, arresting the course
of the descending knife. Before the fiend could snatch the knife with
the other hand he twisted the brawny wrist till the bone cracked. The
knife dropped from the nerveless fingers, and Bildad shrieked with rage
and agony. Guy tried to shout, but the savage's uninjured arm clutched
his throat, and he felt himself jerked violently along the raft. He
struggled and kicked in vain. A mist swam before his eyes, and he felt
the agonies of suffocation. With both hands he tore at the brawny arm,
but the grip only seemed to tighten, and then he realized that he was on
the edge of the raft. He was powerless. He wondered vaguely why the rest
did not come to his assistance. He felt his head and shoulders slip over
the edge, and then opening his eyes he saw the madman's leering face,
flushed with rage and triumph, staring into his own. His eyes closed
with a shudder as he seemed to feel the icy waters close over him. Then
the grasp on his throat suddenly relaxed, and he knew nothing more.
* * * * *
When Guy opened his eyes some minutes later, and saw with wonder the
familiar faces of his friends bending over him, he felt as a man might
who had come back from the grave. He tried to rise, but a firm hand
pushed him gently back, and the colonel's voice said softly, "No; lie
down. Not a word until you are better."
Gradually memory came back as he rested, and he knew why his throat felt
so queer. In the firelight he saw Bildad lying motionless across the
logs. The ugly face was smeared with blood, and Forbes and Canaris were
binding the brawny arms and legs.
And there lay the knife, flashing back the light from its polished
steel.
"You came as near to death, Chutney, as any man can come," said the
colonel a little later, when Guy was able to sit up and lean against the
fragments of the canoe. "Forbes saved you on this occasion. He got awake
just in time, and crawling over the logs--for he was unable to walk--he
brought down the butt of the revolver on the fiend's head. He first
tried to shoot, but his weapon missed fire."
"Is he dead?" asked Guy.
"No," replied the colonel; "more's the pity. He seems to be only
stunned. We've tied him up securely, so he can't do any more harm. But
what started him, anyhow?"
Guy, with many a shudder, related the events that led to the attack, and
his audience were horror-stricken at the terrible tale. The strangest
part of it was that Sir Arthur had slept through it all and was still
sleeping.