FOR A FRIEND’S LIFE.
“SAY, Seymour?”
“Well?” inquired the baronet sleepily.
“I guess it’s time to be moving.”
Yawning, Seymour rose and stretched himself.
“Just rouse Pharaoh there,” Haverly went on, as he slung his
rifle over his shoulder.
Moving over to a corner of the cave, the baronet prodded the
sleeping savage in the ribs. With a guttural cry the creature rose,
shook himself like a dog, and stood awaiting orders.
“I guess you’d better drop it to him as we want to strike for
this yer temple right now,” drawled the Yankee.
Seymour interpreted the message, whereupon Gehari affirmed, with
many vigorous movements of his hands, that he could lead the great
chief and his friend by a secret road, known only to himself and to
one other who was dead, which would take them right to the den of the
sacred beast.
“Lead on, then,” cried Seymour, “but beware how you deal with us.
Serve us well, and you shall be rewarded; betray us, and you shall die
by the fire-sticks.”
He tapped his rifle significantly as he spoke, and the savage,
having been a witness of the death of the great serpent, seemed to
fully comprehend.
He flung himself down upon the cavern floor and pressed his
forehead to the baronet’s boots; then, rising, he moved swiftly
outside.
The two rescuers followed, Haverly covering with his revolver the
hideous form of their savage guide.
Amid the boulders which lined the base of the hills the three
threaded their way, darting into hiding occasionally to escape the
notice of some passing savage.
For perhaps a mile they moved in this fashion, then Gehari turned
into a narrow gully, between two enormous peaks.
So high were the walls on either side that the defile was dark as
midnight, and the American was strongly tempted to use his
lantern.
“What an ideal spot for an ambush!” Seymour remarked in a
whisper.
“That’s so,” returned Haverly in the same low tone; “I’ll be
considerable relieved when we’re through.”
Stumbling and tripping over the loose stones which formed the bed
of the gully, barking their shins against projecting boulders, the two
toiled on after their wolfish leader.
They could but dimly discern the form of the savage in the gloom
ahead, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that they managed
to keep in touch with him. Had Gehari chosen to have deserted them,
nothing would have been easier. But the thought seemed never to enter
the savage’s mind, for he flitted on in front, tireless as ever.
Then of a sudden before them loomed a towering wall of rock,
apparently blank.
The defile had ended.
Had Gehari played them false? the twain wondered. Had he led them
into a _cul-de-sac_?
Quick as thought Haverly produced his lantern, and an instant
later the glare of the electric light shattered the darkness.
“Zu!” The low, buzzing sound came from the lips of the wolf-man,
and he pointed to a dark aperture which showed low down in the face of
the cliffs.
Into this, with much wriggling of limbs, he proceeded to crawl,
beckoning the two friends to follow.
“Looks a bit risky,” Seymour demurred, “but we’ll have to go the
whole hog now.”
He dropped to his knees as he spoke, and disappeared after the
savage.
“It’s all right, Silas,” his voice came back after a moment,
“there’s standing room inside. Just pass me the lantern, and then you
can follow.”
Reassured by his comrade’s words, Haverly passed through the
opening, to find himself in a cave of considerable dimensions. Across
the floor of this the rescuers moved, still preceded by the savage,
and plunged into a natural tunnel on the further side.
Half an hour’s steady progress along this, sometimes crawling on
hands and knees where the passage was too narrow to admit of their
upright advance, and then the Yankee shut off the light of his lantern
with a snap.
Before them a brilliant, silvery glow was visible. Half a dozen
paces, and they emerged from the passage into a flood of fungi
light.
A cry of rage burst from Seymour.
They were standing upon a narrow ledge in the cliffs which formed
the temple walls. Twenty feet below them was the den of Rahee, in
which their friend was awaiting his doom. The sight of the devilish
brute advancing upon the professor roused all the fury in their
natures against the savage creatures who had delivered him to such a
fate.
In a delirious rage, Seymour raised his rifle. Another instant
and Rahee the terrible would have been no more; but, ere the baronet
could fire, Silas gripped his arm.
“Don’t plug the brute,” he cried sharply, “it’s the only thing
that’ll keep those fiends back when they tumble to our game. I’m goin’
down.”
Ere Seymour could restrain him, Silas had laid down his rifle,
swung himself over the edge, and, with a cheery shout to Mervyn,
commenced the descent. From ledge to ledge the wiry American
descended, as cool and collected as though it were an everyday matter
for him to venture into the den of a giant spider. A hoarse roar of
rage rolled up from the assembled wolf-men as they became aware of the
Yankee’s daring move; but Nordhu looked on calmly, confident that
Rahee would destroy rescuer as well as prisoner, which event would
have well satisfied the murderous lust of the priest.
But it was not to be!
Rahee had paused in his spring as he saw this new development,
seemingly startled by the barefaced audacity of the intruder.
Doubtless it was the first time that any had entered his den
voluntarily.
His pause gave the American just the interval he needed to carry
out his plan. Descending the last few feet with a jump, he rushed
between the monstrous spider and his victim. Quickly he forced a link
of the chain which bound the scientist’s wrists with his sheath-knife,
then pushed his friend sharply aside.
“Flicker,” he cried, “for your very life. I’ll keep this brute in
check.”
With his heart beating madly against his ribs, the professor
bounded across the rocky floor, and, never even pausing to remove the
gag from about his mouth, commenced the ascent of the cliff.
Haverly seemed likely to pay dearly for his heroic action.
Enraged by the escape of his victim, Rahee launched himself upon the
American. Like a flash the latter skipped aside, and the spider landed
with a thud upon the spot which his agile enemy had but just
quitted.
With a hoarse gurgle of fury the brute swung round and leapt
again, missing his mark by a bare three inches as Haverly darted aside
once more.
[Illustration: “THE BRUTE SWUNG ROUND AND LEAPT AGAIN, MISSING
HIS MARK BY A BARE THREE INCHES” (_p. 116._)]
“Whew!” the Yankee whistled, “that was a close call!”
Just then a glad shout from above told him that his friend was
safe, and that he too might venture to make his escape from this foul
den. But, even as he turned to put this thought into execution, Rahee
the terrible rose once more in a spring.
Bang! The report of Seymour’s rifle echoed through the great
amphitheatre, and one of the spider’s glaring orbs went out like an
extinguished candle.
Swerving in his leap beneath the shock, Rahee missed his victim
by a couple of feet. Ere he could gather himself together for another
spring, Silas had reached the wall and was clambering upward into
safety.
Halfway up the American paused and looked back. The great spider
was lying motionless beside the gate of his den, giving no sign of
life save an occasional snap of his mighty jaws.
As Haverly resumed his climb the voice of the high priest rang
out in a thunderous order to the wolf-men. What the command was Silas,
of course, could not tell, but he noted that the savages instantly
thronged towards the exits, and his alert brain quickly perceived the
danger.
“Hustle!” he roared to his friends above; “the brutes are going
round to outflank us. I’ll be with you presently.”
“Right!” Seymour called in return; then he and Mervyn vanished
into the tunnel.
Three minutes later Haverly reached the ledge. He was drawing
himself up on to it when something dark shot downward, striking him
full in the face. With a groan he toppled back, swayed for an instant,
lost his balance, and pitched heavily into the den.
As he lay, almost stunned by the shock of his fall, a fiendish
chuckle floated down to him from the ledge above. Looking up he saw
the hideous face of Gehari peering down upon him, every feature aglow
with malevolent triumph.
With a jerk the American drew his revolver and fired at the
grinning mask; but the wolf-man promptly ducked, and the shot passed
harmlessly over his head.
The shot had one effect, however; it aroused the great spider. As
Haverly struggled to his feet the brute leapt towards him, its
remaining eye gleaming wickedly.
Though still somewhat dazed as the result of his fall, Silas had
yet the presence of mind to jump aside; but he was just a second too
late. A great, hairy leg struck his shoulder; he was sent reeling to
the floor, and his weapon, flying from his grasp, skimmed between the
bars of the den far out into the temple.
Save for his sheath-knife the Yankee was entirely
defenceless!
With this weapon, however, poor though it was, he prepared to
meet his terrible foe. He could see that his only chance was to take
the creature in the rear, to stab it from behind.
Once let him get within the grip of those terrible claws and no
power on earth could save him.
A gurgle from Rahee put him upon his guard, and again he evaded
the clutch of the giant spider by a bare hand’s-breadth; but he had no
opportunity to take the offensive. The brute was far too agile in his
movements to give Silas the chance he needed, and a savage chuckle
burst from the wolfish brute, who watched the scene from above, as he
saw Rahee preparing for another leap.
But the chuckle died in his throat, and a hoarse scream of terror
rang out over the temple as he felt himself seized from behind.
Struggling and clawing, he was swung from his feet, lifted high
above the ledge, then hurled with the full force of Seymour’s arms
into the den below.
He struck the floor with a crash, two feet in front of the
crouching spider, and in an instant the brute was upon him.
With the screams of the dying savage ringing in his ears, Haverly
mounted the wall again, and this time the baronet assisted him up the
last few feet of the ascent until he stood on the floor of the
passage.
Here, turning for an instant, Silas looked back into the den.
Gehari had paid a terrible penalty for his treachery!
“Come,” cried Seymour, and the Yankee, sickened by the sight of
the ghastly tragedy, followed him.
“What brought you back here, anyway?” he inquired as they hurried
on.
“I missed the savage,” Seymour explained, “and guessed he was up
to some mischief or other. He’s paid a fearful price for his little
trick.”
“I reckon it was a near thing for me,” Silas admitted. “I was
just crawlin’ on to the ledge when the brute lashed out with his fist
and tumbled me back into the den again. You fixed him proper.”
Ere long the two reached the end of the tunnel, where Mervyn
awaited them.
“We’ll have to hustle considerable,” remarked Haverly, “if we’re
to get through. I guess the wolf-men won’t lose any time in strikin’
our trail.”
He started off down the gully as he spoke, and the others
followed, pressing on as fast as the difficult nature of the ground
would allow.
“Which way?” asked Mervyn as they reached the mouth of the
gorge.
“To the left, and run like blazes,” cried Haverly, “or we’ll be
seeing the inside of the temple again ’fore long.”
Scarcely had he spoken ere from behind came the long-drawn howl
they knew so well.
The wolf-men were in pursuit!