CHAPTER XV.
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.
“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!