THE PIT OF ADDERS
Hammer could not understand himself. He was practically free, he
realized fully that this was the time to act, when Krausz was
unarmed, and yet his brain was dulled and refused to impart movement
to his limbs. He stared at Krausz, fascinated by the least movement
of the man, utterly unable to do a thing.
Whether it was auto-hypnotism, or whether the terrible deadening
influence that had come upon him was caused by the noxious jungle
bringing back his fever, the American never knew.
Jenson had ceased to moan, and crouched at one side by his guard,
cowed. The Masai cast uneasy glances about and at each other, but
still Krausz stared at Sara Helmuth, who seemed to droop under his
gaze.
"You knew, yess?" he muttered finally.
She nodded listlessly.
"Yes. I stayed near here last night. I was here."
The colour flowed back into the face of the scientist little by
little. Turning his back on the party, he stooped and picked up
revolver and whip, then stood looking down at that which lay in the
blackness of the hole.
Hammer wanted to scream, but he could not, for some unseen power had
paralysed his muscles. He wondered, idly, what lay in that hole, but
he was more interested in watching the big Saxon. He had never seen
Krausz so completely overcome before, he thought, and it made him
want to laugh.
"By Godfrey!" He shook himself, conquering that terrible apathy.
"You've got to quit this, old man, or God knows what'll happen. That
chap is breeding trouble and first thing you know he'll spring
something bad."
Why the thought came to him he could not tell, but come it did.
Krausz turned, with a nervous glance around at the silent trees, but
there was no danger in his face, save that the tell-tale ribbon of
muscle was pounding madly.
Then once more the scientist went to the brink of the hole and looked
down. It was as if he were reflecting on something, weighing
something over in his mind before coming to a decision.
A half-sound caught Hammer's attention and he looked at Sara Helmuth.
She had turned partly aside, her head was down in her two hands, and
her shoulders were shaking softly as she stood. Overcome by the
horror of the place, she had given way at last, and the sight was too
much for Hammer.
As if by magic he felt himself once more, with all his old quickness
of thought and vigour of action returned to him. Solomon had failed
them and they were alone, and the thought brought responsibility back
to him.
Quietly slipping his hands free of the loosened cords, he strode over
to the girl's side, none hindering him, and in the face of the jungle
horror about them he put an arm about her shoulders, drawing her head
to his breast.
"Quiet, Sara," and he patted her back in a clumsy effort to soothe
her. "It's all right, girl--don't cry. We'll get out of this place
and forget about it----"
For several weeks now Sara Helmuth had forced herself into the
position of a man among men, playing a lone hand in the dark, and
while friendship had come to her in the guise of Solomon and Hammer,
her woman's soul had craved sympathy as a child craves its mother's
arms.
Furthermore, the place in which they stood mirrored dread into her
soul, for only the evening before she had stood at the edge of that
hole and gazed down while the Arabs held torches aloft and looked
grimly at each other. So, but chiefly because of Hammer's actions
and words, she smiled once and fainted.
The American felt frightened for a moment, then relief came to him.
The burden had been put on his shoulders, and, allowing the girl to
slip to the ground, he turned to find Krausz looking at them and
frowning, blackness brooding in his eyes and an evil twist to his
heavy jaw.
"She hass fainted? That iss good."
"Yes, she's fainted: but you'll notice that she kept her word first."
Hammer's anger turned cold within him, for as he wondered what
frightful thing lay in that hole he remembered the story of the pit
of snakes--and he dreaded snakes as he dreaded no other thing on
earth.
"She's kept her word, Krausz, so I guess it's up to you to keep
yours. You lend me a couple of these _askaris_ to carry Miss Helmuth
and we'll be going."
"Wait."
The scientist seemed oddly apprehensive, seemed as if he were trying
to say something which could not find utterance. He looked at
Hammer, then at the _askaris_, then at the jungle above and around,
and finally beckoned.
"Come--look at thiss thing."
Hammer did not want to look, yet it seemed as though some force drew
him to follow the other to the edge of that black hole. Now he knew
why the horror had come upon him, the snake-fear which lies at the
bottom of many men's souls and which is not to be explained or
reasoned away.
"_Mein Gott_--look at them!"
The American obeyed with cold chills gripping his spine. Yet he
could see little. The pit was deep, very deep. As his eyes searched
the darkness of it he guessed that the bottom was twenty feet away.
Then a soft, slithering sound broke the dead stillness, and a low
"his-s-s" which there was no mistaking.
"Adders," stated the doctor decidedly. "Puff-adders, my friend, and
a bite it iss death, yess!"
Hammer did not know a puff-adder from a black snake, but he did know
why the other had gazed so long into that pit of darkness, for there
was a deadly fascination about it that compelled his eyes despite his
loathing.
"If the treasure iss there, it can wait, yess!" exclaimed the
scientist.
The American mentally added that it could wait until what Sherman
said war was froze over, for all of him; but he still looked down
until gradually the thing took shape before him.
The sides of the pit were straight and well paved, slimy, mossy, with
never a break in the stones. Far down something scintillated for an
instant, then again, and the slithering noise went rustling faintly
without cessation. Hammer was aware that Krausz had come to his side
and was pointing down.
"There--look at that. It iss a platform, no?"
With the words the scientist scraped a match and flung it down. The
American got a glimpse of a small jutting-out stone, some two feet
square, half-way down the pit, and below that a twining, shuddering
mass of something that drove him reeling back with sickness strong
upon him.
"That's enough," he gasped, wiping the cold sweat from his face.
"I'll get out of here and stay gone, don't worry----"
"Stop!"
There was a new note in the voice of Krausz, and it brought Hammer
around instantly. The other had followed him back from the hole, and
was glaring at him with such mad eyes that instinctively the American
took a step backward.
"You are not going away," said the big Saxon slowly, his eyes burning
into those of Hammer. The band of muscle was deep crimson, and it
was pulsating like a wild thing against the man's white brow.
Hammer's foot struck against the limp form of Sara Helmuth, and the
touch restored him from his panic.
"Eh? What's that?" he exclaimed, unbelieving.
"I say you are not going away--you and Adolf and Professor Helmuth,
yess!"
"What's the matter with you?" demanded Hammer, thoroughly angry.
"You promised that when----"
"Yess, and my promise I shall keep--but thiss way." Krausz gestured
with his whip toward the hole. "I promised to set you free, _nein_?"
Between anger at the man and fear of what lay behind him, Hammer
stared at him astounded. It had not occurred to him that Krausz
would not perform his part of the agreement--but what did he mean by
"thiss way"?
The big Saxon went on, his jaw pushed forward aggressively, his eyes
fastened banefully on Hammer:
"Fools! Did you think that I would let you go, yess, to make of me a
joke before all Europe? _Ach_, no! Am I, Sigurd Krausz, to be
tricked and made a fool?"
He turned swiftly to the nearest _askari_--the same who had freed
Hammer.
"Go back to the camp and bring a rope--quick, you black swine!"
The man saluted, flung Hammer a helpless look, and disappeared. The
other three watched, leaning on their rifles.
"What do you mean?" began the American, aghast before the terrible
thought that had leaped into his brain. Krausz flung about on him,
raging.
"Mean? What do I mean? American pig! Iss my work to be spoiled by
thiss _fräulein_? No! _Ach_, but Adolf iss a devil! He betrays
everyone, but he shall not betray Sigurd Krausz. No, nor you,
American. I meant to kill you all, but now I have a better way,
yess, and I shall my promise keep. Later I will come back, yess, and
get the treasure and give it to the world--my treasure, my papers, my
relics!
"Never hass so great a chance come--and it iss not to be perilled by
you. So I tell you plainly, American, you shall not play with Sigurd
Krausz."
Then, too late, Hammer realized that the look in the other's eyes was
little short of madness. He cast a look around, but the jungle
hedged them in, silent and merciless, with no sign of Solomon or aid.
But--what did the madman mean to do? He was crazed on the subject of
his work, that was plain, and whether the jungle mania had unbalanced
him or not, there was a fury in his eyes.
"What do you mean?" asked Hammer again. "Don't think you can get
away with any dirty work, Krausz, or Solomon----"
"Bah! Do not joke with me. Listen--you saw that platform, American?
Then I tell you that you and Adolf Jenson and Professor Helmuth, you
shall stand there until you get tired. You shall be free, yess--but
you cannot get up, and when you go down you will not play with Sigurd
Krausz any----"
Hammer saw red and struck. The whole insane scheme darted clear to
his mind, and he drove his fist home into that mocking face with a
furious curse. Krausz flung up his revolver-hand, but Hammer dashed
it aside and the weapon fell; he saw Krausz reel back and knew he had
crushed the man's nose with his first blow, but he followed with
relentless fury in his heart.
Krausz tried to fight him off, and he saw the three _askaris_ closing
in on him; then he felt the whip curl about him, sending a terrible
red wale over his cheek and biting into his body; but time and again
those fists which had won him his name stabbed into the face of the
big Saxon--until the _askaris_ ground him to the earth by main weight
and tied him.
The American glared up, still raging in his helplessness. Krausz had
dropped his whip and was clinging to a long vine that trailed down
across the body of Jenson, who had not moved.
The fight had hardly lasted a minute, but Hammer had learned his
trade in a hard school. The heavy features of Krausz were crushed
into a red mass, for the first blow of Hammer's had splintered his
nose; yet, for all the pain he must have been suffering, Krausz said
no word.
Groping for his handkerchief, he slowly wiped the blood from his
eyes, then stooped and picked up his pith helmet and put it on,
carefully letting down the mosquito-gauze about his features.
There was something in the action, something of iron tenacity, that
made Hammer hold his breath, waiting for he knew not what. With that
crimsoned visage masked from sight, Sigurd Krausz appeared even more
formidable. Hammer knew that his outburst had effected nothing.
Yet it had been half panic. The scientist's fiendish plan had sent a
shudder of abhorrence through him; the very odour of that pit
nauseated him, and he had lashed out in a frenzy of mingled fear and
rage. Then the memory of that narrow shelf of rock----
"By Godfrey!" thought the American desperately, "if Solomon doesn't
show up in a hurry it's all off! That ledge won't hold more than one
person, that's sure."
Panic-stricken, he watched the Saxon. Krausz took a step, and
stumbled across Jenson, all but falling. At the same moment the
_askari_ who had been sent to camp returned, panting, carrying a
length of rope.
Krausz seized it from him and bent the end around under Jenson's
arms. From where he stood Hammer could see how the secretary
trembled, and a moment later he shrank away from Krausz, scrambling
desperately to regain his feet, screaming.
"Don't!" The wail shrilled up. "Don't! Oh--God----"
Krausz had signalled to the _askaris_, who shut off Jenson's screams
with grins of delight. It was not the sort of work they usually did
for white people, but to Masai hearts it was glorious. Hammer
realized that the one friendly man could do nothing for him, and his
cheeks blanched.
He watched Jenson carried to the edge of the pit and carefully
lowered. A jerk or two freed the rope, and since no sound came
forth, Hammer supposed that the man had reached the ledge in safety.
Krausz turned to where Sara Helmuth lay, still senseless.
Then the American knew that there was no hope, that this fiend would
actually carry out his threat, and he felt his flesh creep at the
thought.
He pictured to himself that narrow ledge, with Jenson already
there--ready to fight off whomever came next.
If the girl was sent down alone, unconscious as she was, what little
chance she had would be gone, while he, Hammer, was whimpering up
here!
He slowly got to his feet, the _askari_ who stood over him pulling
him up, and, as Krausz leaned over the girl with the rope ready,
Hammer knew that he had become himself once more. He might die, but
he would die like a man.
"Put that rope around me, Krausz," he said calmly. "I'll take her in
my arms, if you'll untie my wrists."
The other straightened up, turning toward him, and Hammer saw the
little dribble of blood that trickled down the front of his khaki
coat from beneath the helmet-gauze. He noted, too, that Krausz
feared to trust him, and added desperately:
"I'll give you my word, doctor, to make no trouble. Let's have it
over with decency."
"Good!" came the rumbling response, with a gesture to one of the
Masai. The latter cut Hammer's bonds, and the American strode to the
side of Sara, lifting her in his arms. Then, with firm step but
ghastly face, for the feeling of revulsion was almost too strong to
be endured, he walked to the brink of the pit, and waited.
"Hurry, for God's sake!" he gasped.
The rope was put around him, under his shoulders; he did not feel how
it cut into him as his weight came upon it. He knew only that
terrible darkness was rising up at him, that the nightmare had begun,
that slimy mossy stones were all about him.
He strove for a footing with his hanging feet, but to no avail. The
walls were smooth, fissureless; he could not look down because of the
body of the girl who lay in his arms. And it was as well that he
could not, for an instant later his foot struck something soft.
He almost screamed at the touch, having forgotten Jenson for a
moment; then he remembered. What next happened he could not tell; he
felt himself swinging on the rope, and a great fear surged into him
that the Masai had dropped him.
Then he knew that Jenson was beating against his legs, trying to
drive him off with his beast-like, wordless whimpers.
He felt that he was kicking out in desperation, and his foot landed
once; then from below came a single strangled cry, followed by a soft
thud, and an instant later he was afoot on the rock ledge.
How long he stood there holding Sara Helmuth he never knew, for he
was battling with all his will-power to get control of the awful
horror that was over him. The snake-fear had gripped him, and the
very rock at his back seemed to be a living thing that was pressing
him forward, trying to fling him to the things below. This must have
been the rope loosening from him, however, for presently he had
conquered himself and the rope was gone from about him.
For a little space he did not realize that he was in any great
danger. He was a good ten feet above the things that crawled down
there and as much below the surface; he thought of Jenson, but spared
no pity on the man; and the remembrance of his own words regarding
the snake-pit and Jenson even brought the faintest flicker of a smile
to his tense lips. Yet in his bitterest moments he could not have
wished the man such agony as was now his own.
He listened for some sound from above, but none came. Had Krausz
departed to cure his own hurts or was he waiting for some word from
his victims? Hammer compressed his lips tighter; at least, the Saxon
would not have the satisfaction of hearing him whimper, he thought.
He was thankful that the girl showed no signs of wakening from her
swoon.
But how was Solomon to know where they were? He could not have been
watching, or he would have prevented the terrible deed at all costs;
of that Hammer was assured.
If he did not shout for aid--but what good would shouting do him?
The sound would be lost in the pit or in the leafy roof above; he
could not have pierced that mass of vegetation if he had had the
lungs of Stentor.
It occurred to him that if he set the girl down on the ledge at his
feet he might be able to get out in some way. There was only a
ten-foot wall above him, and even the mosses would give him foothold.
Besides, her weight was beginning to tell on his arms, and he could
not hold her for ever. He felt gingerly forward with one foot--and
cold fear struck him to the heart.
Now he knew why Jenson had slipped away, and how. In the darkness of
the pit, looking down from above, the ledge had seemed fairly wide;
as a matter of fact, it jutted straight out from the wall for a scant
foot; then the upper part of the stone broke and shelved down on all
sides to the under part.
On that foot square of rock it was possible for one person to stand;
it was possible for him to stand so long as he could hold the girl's
weight in his arms, but there was not foothold for two persons--and
he could not hold Sara Helmuth much longer. As it was, his arms were
tiring rapidly.
Hammer's face clenched into a grimace of pure agony as the tremendous
temptation swept over him--all the more powerful because of his
inborn dread of what lay below. The girl was unconscious; she would
never know! Was it not more merciful, after all, to give her to
death now than to leave her precariously hanging on that foot-square
ledge until she wakened, moved, and--dropped?
"Oh, God!" he muttered, Jenson's cry on his lips, and repeated it
over and over. How could he save his own worthless life at the
expense of hers? A terrible convulsion seized him; he tottered, and
only recovered his balance by a miracle. The danger sickened him,
but it also woke latent words in his brain.
"--I think it will be one of power, not of failure. I would like to
be there----"
He groaned, and it was as if the groan had been wrenched out of his
soul, for he knew that his great moment had arrived. And he knew
that, despite himself, it would be one of power--nay it was one of
power!
Though half of his soul fought against the other half, trying to
loose his arms, it was in vain; sophistry was swept aside, and he
felt that he must do his utmost, even though it might be useless. He
would go to join Jenson, and he must go soon, lest his strength fail.
Feeling about with his feet, he found the last inch of rock that
would hold him up, and slowly bent downward. Twice he had to shift
his position laboriously because of the wall behind him; once again
he tottered, his foot slipped, and only a desperate effort recovered
him.
After he had laid the girl across that ledge he could never get
upright again without standing on her body--and, harmless though that
might have been to her, it never came into his head.
He lowered her to his knees, twisting about, and inch by inch bent
downward until she lay across his feet and ankles in safety. Only
his grip on her body held him on the ledge now, and the physical
torture of his position sent the sweat running down his face in
streams.
His will-power all but failed him in that last instant. With
infinite pains he drew one foot free, then the other, and went to his
knees. But they slipped on the slant of broken rock-face--and,
bending swiftly, he touched his lips to hers as he went down.
He seemed to fall for miles and miles through space. From somewhere
above came a dull report, and a second; then a shock, and he landed
feet first on something soft, and felt great shapes twining around
him. He screamed--and fell asleep.