THE RESCUE
It was dusk of the second day when Thandar, following the directions
given him by Boloon, came to the edge of the little clearing within
which rose the dingy outlines of many long houses raised upon piles.
Before the village ran a river. Many times had Thandar crossed and
recrossed this stream, for he had become lost twice upon the way and
had to return part way each time to pick up his trail.
In the center of the village the man could see the outlines of a
loftier structure rearing its head above those of the others. As
darkness fell Thandar crept closer toward his goal--the large building
which Boloon had described as the temple.
Beneath the high raised houses the cave man crept, disturbing pigs and
chickens as he went, but their noise was no uncommon thing, and rather
than being a menace to his safety it safeguarded him, for it hid the
noise of his own advance.
At last he came beneath a house nearest the temple. The moon was full
and high. Her brilliant light flooded the open spaces between the
buildings, casting into black darkness the shadows beneath. In one of
these Thandar lurked. He saw that the temple was guarded. Before its
only entrance squatted two warriors. How was he to pass them?
He moved to the end of the shadow of the house beneath which he spied
as far from the guards as possible; but still discovery seemed certain
were he to attempt to rush across the intervening space. He was at a
loss as to what next to do. It seemed foolish to risk all now upon a
bold advance--the time for such a risk would be when he had found the
goddess and learned if she were Nadara, or another; but how might he
cross that strip of moonlight and enter the temple past the two guards,
without risk?
He moved silently to the far end of the building, in the shadows of
which he watched. For some time he stood looking across at his goal, so
near, and yet seemingly infinitely farther from attainment than the day
he had left the coast in search of it. He noted the long poles stuck
into the ground at irregular intervals about the structure. He wondered
at the significance of the rude carving upon them, of the barbaric
capitals sometimes topped by the head-dress of a savage warrior, again
by a dried and grinning skull, or perhaps the rudely chiseled likeness
of a hideous human face.
Upon many of the poles were hung shields, weapons, clothing and
earthenware vessels. One especially was so weighted down by its
heterogeneous burden that it leaned drunkenly against the eaves of
the temple. Thandar's eye followed it upward to where it touched the
crudely shingled roof. The suggestion was sufficient--where his eye
had climbed he would climb. There was only the moonlight to make the
attempt perilous. If the clouds would but come! But there was no
indication of clouds in the star shot sky.
He looked toward the guards. They lolled at the opposite end of the
temple, only one of them being visible. The other was hidden by the
angle of the building. The back of the fellow whom Thandar could see
was turned toward the cave man. If they remained thus for a moment
he could reach the roof unnoticed. But then there was the danger of
discovery from one of the other buildings. An occasional whiff of
tobacco smoke told him that some of the men were still awake upon the
verandahs where most of the youths and bachelors slept.
Thandar crawled to where he could see the only verandah which directly
faced the portion of the temple he had chosen for his attempted
entrance. For an hour he watched the rising and falling glow of the
cigarettes of two of the native men, and listened to the low hum of
their conversation. The hour seemed to drag into an eternity, but at
last the glowing butt of first one cigarette and then another was
flicked over into the grass and silence reigned upon the verandah.
For half an hour longer Thandar waited. The guards before the temple
still squatted as before. The one Thandar could see seemed to have
fallen asleep, for his head drooped forward upon his breast.
The time had come. There was no need of further delay or
reconnaisance--if he was to be discovered that would be the end of it,
and it would not profit him one iota to know a second or so in advance
of the alarm that he had been detected. So he did not waste time in
stealthy advance, or in much looking this way and that. Instead he
moved swiftly, though silently, directly across the open, moonlit space
to the foot of the leaning pole. He did not cast a glance behind nor to
the right nor left. His whole attention was riveted upon the thing in
hand.
Thandar had scaled the rickety, toppling saplings of the cliff dwellers
for so long that this pole offered no greater difficulties to him than
would an ordinary staircase to you or me. First he tested it with eyes
and hands to know that it rested securely at the top and that beneath
his weight it would not move noisily out of its present position.
Assured that it seemed secure, Thandar ran up it with the noiseless
celerity of a cat. Gingerly he stepped upon the roof, not knowing the
manner of its construction, which might be weak thatching that would
give beneath him and precipitate him into the interior beneath.
To his surprise and consternation he found that the roof was of wood,
and quite as solid as one could imagine. It had been his plan to enter
the temple from above, but now it seemed that he was to be thwarted,
for he could not hope to cut silently through a wooden roof with his
parang in the few hours that intervened before dawn.
He stooped to examine the roof minutely with eyes and fingers. The
moonlight was brilliant. In it he could see quite well. He pulled
away the thin palm frond thatch. Beneath were shingles hand hewn from
billian. In each was a small square hole through which was passed a
strip of rattan that bound the shingle to the frame of the roof.
Thandar lifted away the thatching over a little space some two feet
square. Then he inserted the point of his keen parang beneath a rattan
tie string, and an instant later had lifted aside a shingle. Another
and another followed the first until an opening in the roof had been
made large enough to easily admit his body.
Thandar leaned over and peered into the darkness beneath. He could see
nothing. His own body was between the moon and the hole in the roof,
shutting out the rays of the satellite from the interior.
The man lowered his legs cautiously over the edge of the hole. Feeling
about, his feet came in contact with a rafter. A moment later his whole
body had disappeared within the temple. Clinging to the edge of the
hole with one hand, Thandar squatted upon the rafter above the temple
floor.
Now that his body no longer clogged the aperture in the roof the
moonlight poured through it throwing a brilliant flood upon a portion
of the floor at the opposite side of the interior. The balance was
feebly lighted by the diffused moonlight.
The temple seemed to consist of a single large room. In the center was
a raised platform, and also about the walls. From the rafters hung
baskets containing human skulls--one swung directly in the moonlight
beneath Thandar. He could see its grisly contents plainly.
His eyes followed the moonlight toward the area which it touched upon
the far side of the room. It reminded Waldo Emerson of a spot light
thrown from the gallery of a theater upon the stage.
Directly in the center of the light a woman lay asleep upon the
platform. Thandar's heart stood still. About her figure was wrapped the
glossy hide of Nagoola. Over one bare, brown arm billowed a wealth
of thick, black hair, fine as silk, upon the third finger of the left
hand blazed a large solitaire. The woman's face was turned toward the
wall--but Thandar knew that he could not be mistaken--it was Nadara.
From the rafter upon which he squatted to the floor below was not over
twelve or fifteen feet. Thandar swung downward, clinging to the rafter
with his hands, and dropped, cat-like, upon his naked feet to the floor
below.
The almost noiseless descent was sufficient, however, to awaken the
sleeper. With the quickness of a panther she swung around and was
upon her feet facing the man almost at the instant he alighted. The
moonlight was now full upon her face. Thandar rushed forward to take
her in his arms.
"Nadara!" he whispered. "Thank God!"
The girl shrank back. She recognized the voice and the figure; but--her
Thandar was dead! How could it be that he had returned from death? She
was frightened.
The man saw the evident terror of her action, and paused.
"What is the matter, Nadara?" he asked. "Don't you know me? Don't you
know Thandar?"
"Thandar is dead," she whispered.
The man laughed. In a few words he explained that he had been stunned,
but not killed, by the earthquake. Then he came to her side and took
her in his arms.
"Do I feel like a dead man?" he asked.
She put her arms about his neck and drew his face down to hers. She was
sobbing. Thandar's back was toward the doorway of the temple. Nadara
was facing it. As she raised her eyes to his again her face went deadly
white, and she dragged and pushed him suddenly out of the brilliant
patch of moonlight.
"The guard!" she whispered. "I just saw something move beyond the door."
Thandar stepped behind one of the tree trunks that supported the roof,
looking toward the entrance. Yes, there was a man even now coming into
the temple. His eyes were wide with surprise as he glanced upward
toward the hole in the roof. Then he looked in the direction of the
platform upon which Nadara had been sleeping. When he saw that it was
empty he ran back to the doorway and called his companion.
As he did so Thandar grasped Nadara's hand and drew her around the
opposite side of the temple where the shadows were blackest, toward the
doorway. They had reached the end of the room when the two warriors
came running in, jabbering excitedly. One of them had passed half-way
across the temple, and Thandar and Nadara had almost reached the door
when the second savage caught sight of them. With a cry of warning to
his companion he turned upon them with drawn parang.
As the fellow rushed forward Thandar drew the pistol the pirates had
given him and fired point blank at the fellow's breast. With a howl the
man staggered back and collapsed upon the floor. Then his fellow rushed
to the attack.
Thandar had no time to reload. He handed the weapon to Nadara.
"In the pouch at my right side are cartridges," he said. "Get out
several of them, and when I can I will reload."
As he spoke they had been edging toward the doorway. From the street
beyond they could already hear excited voices raised in questioning.
The shot had aroused the village.
Now the fellow with the parang was upon them. Thandar was clumsy with
the unaccustomed weapon with which he tried to meet the attack of the
skilled savage. There could have been but one outcome to the unequal
struggle had not Nadara, always quick-witted and resourceful, snatched
a long spear from the temple wall.
As she dragged it down there fell with it a clattering skull that broke
upon the floor between the fighters. A howl of dismay and rage broke
from the lips of the head-hunter. This was sacrilege. The holy of the
holies had been profaned. With renewed ferocity he leaped to close
quarters with Thandar, but at the same instant Nadara lunged the sharp
pointed spear into his side, his guard dropped and Thandar's parang
fell full upon his skull.
"Come!" cried Nadara. "Make your escape the way you came. There is
no hope for you if you remain. I will tell them that the two guards
fought between themselves for me--that one killed the other, and that I
shot the victor to save myself. They will believe me--I will tell them
that I have always had the pistol hidden beneath my robe. Good-bye, my
Thandar. We cannot both escape. If you remain we may both die--you,
certainly."
Thandar shook his head vehemently.
"We shall both go--or both die," he replied.
Nadara pressed his hand.
"I am glad," was all that she said.
The savages were pouring from their long houses. The street before the
temple was filling with them. To attempt to escape in that direction
would have been but suicidal.
"Is there no other exit?" asked Thandar.
"There is a small window in the back of the temple," replied Nadara,
"in a little room that is sometimes used as a prison for those who are
to die, but it lets out into another street which by this time is
probably filled with natives."
"There is the floor," cried Thandar. "We will try the floor there."
He ran to the main entrance to the temple, and closed the doors. Then
he dragged the two corpses before them, and a long wooden bench. There
was no other movable thing in the temple that had any considerable
weight.
This done he took Nadara's hand and together the two ran for the little
room. Here again they barricaded the door, and Thandar turned toward
the floor. With his parang he pried up a board--it was laid but roughly
upon the light logs that were the beams. Another was removed with equal
ease, and then he lowered Nadara to the ground beneath the temple.
Clinging to the piling, Thandar replaced the boards above his head
before he, too, dropped to the ground at Nadara's side. The streets
upon either side of the temple were filled with savages. They could
hear them congregating before the entrance to the temple where all was
now quiet and still within. They were bolstering their courage by much
shouting to the point that would permit them to enter and investigate.
They called the names of the guards, but there was no response.
"Give me the pistol," said Thandar.
He loaded it, keeping several cartridges ready in his hand. Then, with
Nadara at his side, he crept to the back of the temple. Pigs, routed
from their slumbers, grunted and complained. A dog growled at them.
Thandar silenced it with a cut from his parang. When they reached the
edge of the shadow beneath the temple they saw that there were only a
few natives upon this side of the structure, and they were hurrying
rapidly toward the front of the building. A hundred yards away was the
jungle.
Now a sudden quiet fell upon the horde before the temple doors. There
was the sound of hammering, then a pushing, scraping noise, and
presently shouts of savage rage--the dead bodies of the guardsmen
had been discovered. Now, from above, came the padding of naked feet
running through the temple. The street behind was momentarily deserted.
"Now!" whispered Thandar.
He seized Nadara's hand, and together the two raced from beneath the
temple out into the moonlight and across the intervening space between
the long houses toward the jungle. Half-way across, a belated native,
emerging from the verandah of a nearby house, saw them. He set up a
terrific yell and dashed toward them.
Thandar's pistol roared, and the savage dropped; but the signal had
been given and before the two reached the jungle a screaming horde of
warriors was upon their heels.
Thandar was confused. He had lost his bearings since entering the
village and the temple. He turned toward Nadara.
"I do not know the way to the coast," he cried.
The girl took his hand.
"Follow me," she said, and to the memories of each leaped the
recollection of the night she had led him through the forest from the
cliffs of the bad men. Once again was Waldo Emerson Smith-Jones, the
learned, indebted to the greater wisdom of the unlettered cave girl for
his salvation.
Unerringly Nadara ran through the tangled jungle in the direction of
the coast. Though she had been but once over the way she followed the
direct line as unerringly as though each tree was blazed and sign posts
marked each turn.
Behind them came the noise of the pursuit, but always Nadara and
Thandar fled ahead of it, not once did it gain upon them during the
long hours of flight.
It was noon before they reached the coast. They came out at the camp
of the pirates, but to Thandar's dismay it was deserted. Tsao Ming had
waited the allotted time and gone. If Thandar had but known it, the
picturesque cut-throat had overstayed the promised period, and had but
scarce left when the fugitives emerged from the jungle beside the
beach. In fact his rude craft was but out of sight beyond the northern
promontory. A pistol shot would have recalled him; but Thandar did not
know it, and so he turned dejectedly to search for the hidden canoe.
It lay behind the little clump of bushes that had hidden Thandar the
morning that he had saved Tsao Ming's life, several hundred yards to
the south.
All signs of pursuit had now ceased, and so the two walked slowly in
the direction of the craft. They found it just where Tsao Ming had
promised that it would be. It was well and staunchly repaired, and in
addition contained a goodly supply of food and water. Thandar blessed
Tsao Ming, the unhung murderer.
Together they dragged the frail thing to the water's edge, and were
about to shove it out when, with a chorus of savage yells, a score or
more of the head-hunters leaped from the jungle and bore down upon
them. Thandar turned to meet them with drawn pistol.
"Get the canoe into the water, Nadara," he called to the girl. "I will
hold them off until it is launched, then we may be able to reach deep
water before they can overtake us."
Nadara struggled with the unwieldy boat which the rollers picked up
and hurled back upon her each time she essayed to launch it. From
the corner of his eye Thandar saw the difficulties that the girl was
having. Already the horde was half-way across the beach, running
rapidly toward them. The man feared to fire except at close range since
his unfamiliarity with firearms rendered him an extremely poor shot.
However, it was evident that Nadara could not launch the thing alone,
and so Thandar turned his pistol upon the approaching savages, pulled
the trigger, and wheeled to assist the girl.
More by chance than skill the bullet lodged in the body of the foremost
head-hunter. The fellow rolled screaming to the sand, and as one his
companions came to a sudden halt. But seeing that Thandar was busy
with the boat and not appearing to intend to follow up his shot they
presently resumed the charge.
Thandar and Nadara were having all that they could attend to with the
canoe and so the savages came to the water's edge before they realized
their proximity. When he saw them, Thandar wheeled and fired again,
then picking the canoe up bodily above his head he struggled out
through the surf, Nadara walking by his side, steadying him.
After them came the savages--perhaps half a dozen of the bolder,
when suddenly a great roller caught them all, pursuers and pursued,
sweeping them out into deep water. Thandar and Nadara clung to the
canoe, but the head-hunters were dragged down by the undertow.
Upon the beach, yelling, threatening and gesticulating, danced thirty
or forty baffled savages; but now Thandar and Nadara had crawled into
the craft, which the outgoing tide was carrying rapidly from shore, and
with the aid of the paddle were soon safely out upon the bosom of the
Pacific.
Safely?