HOW OTTER FOUGHT THE WATER DWELLER
Keeping himself carefully under the overshadowing edge of the
rock-bank, and holding his double-bladed knife ready in one hand, Otter
swam to the mouth of the Snake’s den. As he approached it he perceived
by the great upward force of the water that the real body of the stream
entered the pool from below, the hole where the crocodile lived being
but a supplementary exit, which doubtless the river followed in times
of flood.
Otter reached the mouth of the tunnel without any great difficulty,
and, watching his chance, he lifted himself on his hands and slipped
through it quickly, for he did not desire to be seen by those who were
gathered above. Nor indeed was he seen, for his red head-dress and the
goat-skin cloak had been washed away or cast off in the pool, and in
that light his black body made little show against the black rock
beneath.
Now he was inside the hole, and found himself crouching upon a bed of
sand, or rather disintegrated rock, brought down by the waters. The
gloom of the place was great, but the light of the white dawn, which
had turned to red, was gathering swiftly on the surface of the pool
without as the mist melted, and thence was reflected into the tunnel.
So it came about that very soon Otter, who had the gift, not uncommon
among savages, of seeing in anything short of absolute darkness, was
able to make out his surroundings with tolerable accuracy. The place in
a corner of which he squatted was a cave of no great height or width,
hollowed in the solid rock by the force of water, as smoothly as though
it had been hewn by the hand of man: in short, an enormous natural
drain-pipe, but constructed of stone instead of earthenware.
In the bottom of this drain trickled a stream of water nowhere more
than six inches in depth, on either side of which, for ten feet or
more, lay a thick bed of debris ground small. How far the cave
stretched of course he could not see, nor as yet could he discover the
whereabouts of its hideous occupant, though traces of its presence were
plentiful, for the sandy floor was marked with its huge footprints, and
the air reeked with an abominable stink.
“Where has this evil spirit gone to?” thought Otter; “he must be near,
and yet I can see nothing of him. Perhaps he lives further up the
cave”; and he crept a pace or two forward and again peered into the
gloom.
Now he perceived what had hitherto escaped him, namely, that some eight
yards from the mouth of the tunnel a table-shaped fragment of stone
rose from its floor to within six feet of the roof, having on the
hither side a sloping plane that connected its summit with the
stream-bed beneath. Doubtless this fragment or boulder, being of some
harder material than the surrounding rock, had resisted the wear of the
rushing river; the top of it, as was shown by the high-water marks on
the sides of the cave, being above the level of the torrent, which,
although it was now represented only by a rivulet, evidently at certain
seasons of the year poured down with great force and volume.
“Here is a bed on which a crocodile might sleep,” reflected Otter,
creeping a little further forward and staring at the mass of rock, and
more especially at a triangular-shaped object that was poised on the
top of the sloping plane, and on something which lay beneath it.
“Now, if that thing be another stone,” thought Otter again, “how comes
it that it does not slip into the water as it should do, and what is
that upon which it rests?” and he took a step to one side to prevent
his body from intercepting any portion of the ray of light that
momentarily shone clearer and pierced the darkness of the cave to a
greater distance.
Then he looked again and almost fell in his horror, for now he could
see all. The thing that he had taken for a stone set upon the
rock-table was the head of the Dweller in the Waters, for there in it,
as the light struck on them, two dreadful eyes gleamed with a dull and
changing fire. Moreover, he discovered what was the object which lay
under the throat of the reptile. It was the body of that priest whom
Otter had taken with him in his leap from the statue, for he could see
the dead face projecting on one side.
“Perhaps if I wait awhile he will begin to eat him,” reflected the
dwarf, remembering the habits of crocodiles, “and then I can attack him
when he rests and sleeps afterwards”; and, acting on this idea, he
stood still, watching the green fire as it throbbed and quivered, waxed
and waned in the monster’s eyes.
How long he remained thus Otter never knew; but after a time he became
conscious that these eyes had taken hold of him and were drawing him
towards them, though whether the reptile saw him or not he could not
tell. For a space he struggled against this unholy fascination; then,
overcome by dread, he strove to fly, back to the pool or anywhere out
of reach of those devilish orbs. Alas! it was too late: no step could
he move backwards, no, not to save his life.
Now he must go on. It was as though the Water Dweller had read his
mind, and drew its foe towards itself to put the matter to the test.
Otter took one step forward—rather would he have sprung again off the
head of the colossus—and the eyes glowed more dreadfully than ever, as
though in triumph.
Then in despair he sank to the ground, hiding his face in his hands and
groaning in his heart.
“This is a devil that I have come to fight, a devil with magic in his
eyes,” he thought. “And how can I, who am but a common Knobnose dwarf,
do battle against the king of evil spirits, clothed in the shape of a
crocodile?”
Even now, when he could not see them, he felt the eyes drawing him.
Yet, as they were no longer visible, his courage and power of mind came
back to him sufficiently to enable him to think again.
“Otter,” he said to himself, “if you stay thus, soon the magic will do
its work. Your sense will leave you, and that devil will eat you up as
a cobra devours a meer-cat. Yes, he will swallow you, and his inside
will be your grave, and that is no end for one who has been called a
god! Men, let alone gods, should die fighting, whether it be with other
men, with wild beasts, with snakes, or with devils. Think now, if your
master, the Deliverer, saw you crouch thus like a toad before an adder,
how he would laugh and say, ‘Ho! I thought this man brave. Ho! he
talked very loud about fighting the Water Dweller, he who came of a
line of warriors; but now I laugh at him, for I see that he is but a
cross-bred cur and a coward.’
“Yes, yes, you can hear his words, Otter. Say now, will you bear their
shame and sit here until you are snapped up and swallowed?”
Thus the dwarf addressed himself, and it seemed to his bewildered brain
that the words which he had imagined were true, and that Leonard really
stood by and mocked him.
At last he sprang to his feet, and crying, “Never, Baas!” so loudly
that the cave rang with the echoes of his shout, he rushed straight at
the foe, holding the two-bladed knife in his right hand.
The crocodile, that was waiting for him to fall insensible, as had ever
been the custom of the living victims on whom it fixed its baneful
glare, heard his cry and awoke from its seeming torpor. It lifted its
head, fire seemed to flash from its dull eyes, its vast length began to
stir. Higher and higher it reared its head, then of a sudden it leaped
from the slope of rock, as alligators when disturbed leap from a river
bank into the water, coming so heavily to the ground that the shock
caused the cave to tremble, and stood before the dwarf with its tail
arched upwards over its back.
Again Otter shouted, half in rage and half in terror, and the sound
seemed to make the brute more furious.
It opened its huge mouth as though to seize him and waddled a few paces
forward, halting within six feet of him. Now the dwarf’s chance had
come and he knew it, for with the opportunity all his courage and skill
returned to him. It was he who sprang and not the crocodile. He sprang,
he thrust his arm and the double knife far into the yawning mouth, and
for a second held it there, one end pointing upwards to the brain and
one to the tongue beneath. He felt the jaws close, but their rows of
yellow fangs never touched his arm, for there was that between them
which held them some little space apart. Then he cast himself on one
side and to the ground, leaving the weapon in the reptile’s throat.
For a few moments it shook its horrible head, while Otter watched
gasping, for the reek of the brute’s breath almost overpowered him.
Twice it opened its great jaws and spat, and twice it strove to close
them. Oh! what if it should rid itself of the knife, or drive it
through the soft flesh of the throat? Then he was lost indeed! But this
it might not do, for the lower blade caught upon the jawbone, and at
each effort it drove the sharp point of the upper knife deeper towards
its brain. Moreover, so good was the steel, and so firm were the hide
bindings of the handles, shrunken as they were with the wet, that
nothing broke or gave.
“Now he will trample me or dash me to pieces with his tail,” said
Otter; but as yet the Snake had no such mind—indeed, in its agony it
seemed to have forgotten the presence of its foe. It writhed upon the
floor of the cave, lashing the rock with its tail, and gasping horribly
the while. Then suddenly it started forward past him, and the tough
hide rope about Otter’s middle ran out like the line from the bow of a
whale-boat when the harpoon has gone home in the quarry.
Thrice the dwarf spun round violently, then he felt himself dragged in
great jerks along the rocky floor, which, happily for him, was smooth.
A fourth jerk, and once more he was in the waters of the pool, ay, and
being carried to its remotest depths.
“Now, he is mad,” thought Otter, “who ties himself to such a fish as
this, for it will drown me ere it dies.”
Had Otter been any other man, doubtless this would have been so. But he
was as nearly amphibious as a human being can be, and could dive and
swim and hold his breath, yes, and see beneath the surface as well as
the animal from which he took his name. Never did such gifts stand
their owner in better stead than during the minutes of this strange
duel.
Twice the tortured reptile sank to the bottom of the pool—and its depth
was great—dragging the dwarf after it, though, as it chanced, between
dives it rose to the surface, giving him time to breathe. A third time
it dived, and Otter must follow it—on this occasion to the mouth of one
of the subterranean exits of the water, into which the dwarf was
sucked. Then the brute turned, heading up the pool with the speed of a
hooked salmon, and Otter, who had prayed that the line would break, now
prayed that it might hold, for he knew that even he could never hope to
swim against that undertow.
It held, and once more they rose to the surface, where the reptile lay
lashing the waters in its pain, blood pouring from its mouth and
nostrils. Very glad was Otter to be able to breathe again, for during
that last rush he had gone near to suffocation. He lifted his head,
inhaling the air with great gulps, and saw that the banks of the pool
were lined with spectators who shouted and surged in their mad
excitement. After that he did not see much more for a while, since just
then it seemed to occur to the crocodile for the first time that the
man alongside of him was the cause of his suffering; at least it
wallowed round, causing the waters to boil about its horny sides, and
charged him. With its fangs it could not bite, therefore it struck at
him with its tail.
Twice Otter dived, avoiding the blows, but the third time he was not so
successful, for the reptile followed him into the deep water and dealt
him a fearful stroke before he could either sink or rise. He felt the
rough scales cut into his flesh and a sensation as though every bone in
his body was breaking and his eyes were starting from his head. Faintly
and more faintly he struggled, but in vain, for now life and sense were
leaving him together, and everything grew black.
But suddenly there came a change, and Otter knew vaguely that again he
was being dragged through the water and over rock. Then darkness took
him, and he remembered no more.
When the dwarf awoke it was to find himself lying on the floor of the
cave, but not alone, for by his side, twisted into a last and hideous
contortion, lay the Snake god—dead! The upper part of the double knife
had worked itself into its brain, and, with a dying effort, it sought
the den where it had lived for centuries, dragging Otter with it, and
there expired, how or when he knew not. But the dwarf had triumphed.
Before him was stretched the ancient terror of the People of the Mist,
the symbol and, indeed, the object of their worship, slain by his skill
and valour.
Otter saw, and, bruised and shaken as he was, his heart swelled with
pride, for had he not done a deed single-handed such as was not told of
in the stories of his land?
“Oh! that the Baas were here to see this sight!” he said, as he crawled
along the length of his dead enemy, and seated himself upon its flat
and loathsome snout. “Alas! he cannot,” he added, “but I pray that my
watching spirit may spare my life, that I may live to sing the song of
the slaying of the Devil of the People of the Mist. _Wow!_ that was a
fight. When shall a man see another? And lo! save for many bruises and
the cutting of the rope about my middle, I am not greatly hurt, for the
water broke the weight of his tail when he smote me with it. After all,
it is well that the line held, for it served to drag me from the pool
as it had dragged me into it, otherwise I had surely drowned there.
“See, though, it is nearly done with,” and grasping that end of the
cord which hung from the jaws of the crocodile, he broke it with a
jerk, for, with the exception of half a strand, it was frayed through
by the worn fangs.
Then, having rested himself a little, and washed the worst of his hurts
with water, Otter set himself to consider the position. First, however,
he made an utterly ineffectual effort to extract the great knives. Ten
men could not have moved them, for the upper blade was driven many
inches deep into the bone and muscles of the reptile’s massive head.
But for this chance it would have soon shaken itself clear of them;
but, as it was, every contortion and gnashing of its jaws had only
served to drive the steel deeper—up to the hilt, indeed.
Abandoning this attempt, the dwarf crept cautiously to the mouth of the
cave and peered at the further banks of the pool, whence he could hear
shouts and see men moving to and fro, apparently in a state of great
excitement.
“Now I am weary of that pool,” he said to himself, “and if I am seen in
it the Great People will surely shoot at me with arrows and kill me.
What shall I do, then? I cannot stay in this place of stinks with the
dead devil and the bones of those whom he has devoured, until I die of
hunger. Yet this water must come from somewhere, therefore it seems
best that I should follow it awhile, searching for the spot where it
enters the cave. It will be dark walking, but the walls and the floor
are smooth, so that I shall not hurt myself, and if I find nothing I
can return again and strive to escape from the pool by night.”
Having decided upon the adventure, Otter began to carry it out with
characteristic promptness, the more readily, indeed, because his long
immersion in the water had chilled him, and he felt a weariness
creeping over him as a result of the terrible struggle and emotions
that he had passed through.
Coiling the hide rope about his middle, which was sadly cut by its
chafing, he started with an uncertain gait, for he was still very weak.
A few steps brought him to that rock on which he had discovered the
head of the reptile, and he paused to examine it. Climbing the sloping
stone—no easy task, for it was smooth as ice—he came to the table-like
top. On its edge lay the body of that priest who had shared his fall
from the head of the colossus.
Then he inspected the surface of the rock, and for the first time
understood how old that monster must have been which he had conquered
in single combat. For there, where its body had lain from generation to
generation, and perhaps from century to century, the hard material was
worn away to the depth of two feet or more, while at the top of the
sloping stone was a still deeper niche, wherein its head reposed as it
lay keeping its sleepless watch on the waters of the pool.
Around this depression, and strewn about the floor of the cave itself,
were the remains of many victims, a considerable number of whom had not
been devoured. In every case, however, the larger bones were broken,
and from this circumstance Otter judged that, although it was the
custom of this dreadful reptile to crush the life out of all who were
thrown to it with a bite of its fangs, yet, like that of other animals,
its appetite was limited, and it was only occasionally that it consumed
what it had killed.
The sight of these remains was so unpleasant and suggestive that even
Otter, who certainly could not be called squeamish, hastened to descend
the rock. As he passed round it his attention was attracted by the
skeleton of a man who, from various indications, must have been alive
within the last few weeks. The bones were clad in a priest’s cloak, of
which the dwarf, who was trembling with cold, hastened to possess
himself. As he picked up the robe he observed beneath it a bag of
tanned ox-hide that doubtless had once been carried by the owner of the
cloak.
“Perhaps he kept food in this,” thought Otter; “though what he who came
to visit the Water Dweller should want with food I cannot guess. At the
least it will be bad by now, so I will leave it and be gone. Only a
vulture would stay for long in this house of the dead.” Then he started
forward.
For a few yards more he had light to guide his steps, but very soon the
darkness became complete; still the cave was not difficult to travel,
for everywhere the rock was smooth and the water shallow. All that he
needed to do was to walk straight on, keeping touch of one side of the
tunnel with one hand. Indeed he had but two things to fear, that he
should fall into some pit and that he might suddenly encounter another
crocodile, “for doubtless,” thought Otter, “the devil was married.”
But Otter fell into no hole and he saw no crocodile, since, as it
chanced, the Water Dweller of the People of the Mist was a bachelor.
When the dwarf had travelled up a steep slope for rather more than half
an hour, to his intense joy he saw light before him and hurried towards
it. Presently he reached the further mouth of the cavern that was
almost closed by blocks of ice, among which a little water trickled.
Creeping through an aperture he found himself upon the crest of the
impassable precipice at the back of the city, and that before him a
vast glacier of green ice stretched upwards, whereon the sun shone
gloriously.