_ BOOK III. THE AFTERGLOW
CHAPTER XV. IN THE GRIP OF TERROR
As the three pursuers steadily advanced, the thing roared once more, and again they heard the hammering, drumming boom. Zangamon whispered some unintelligible phrase.
Allan projected the light forward again, and at sight of a moving mass, vague and intangible, among the gigantic fronds, leveled his automatic.
But on the instant Bremilu seized his arm.
"O master! Do not throw the fire of death!" he warned. "You cannot see, but we can! Do not throw the fire!"
"Why not? What
is that thing?"
"It seems a man, yet it is different, master. It is all hair, and very thick and strong, and hideous! Do not shoot, O Kromno!"
"Why not?"
"Behold! That strange man-thing holds the woman, Beatrice, in his left arm. Of a truth, you may kill her, and not the enemy."
Allan steadied himself against a palm. His brain seemed whirling, and for a moment all grew vague and like a dream.
She was there--Beatrice was there, and they could see her. There, in the clutches of some monster, horrible and foul! Living yet?
Dead? "Tell me! Does she live?"
"We cannot say, O Kromno. But do not shoot. We will creep close--we, ourselves, will slay, and never touch the woman."
"No, no! If you do he'll strangle her--provided she still lives! Don't go! Wait! Let me think a second."
With a tremendous effort Allan mastered himself. The situation far surpassed, in horror, any he had ever known.
There not a hundred yards distant in the dense blackness was Beatrice, in the grip of some unknown and hideous creature. Advance, Allan dared not, lest the creature rend her to tatters. Shoot, he dared not.
Yet something must be done, and quickly, for every second, every fraction of a second, was golden. The merest accident might now mean death or life--life, if the girl still lived!
"Zangamon!"
"Yea, master?"
"Be very bold! Do my bidding!"
"Speak only the word, Kromno, and I obey!"
"Go you, then, very quietly, very swiftly, to the other side of these great growing things--these trees, we call them. Then call, so that this thing shall turn toward you. Thus, I may shoot, and perhaps not kill the woman. It is the only way!"
"I hear, master. I go!"
Allan and Bremilu waited, while from the thicket came, at intervals, the savage snuffling, with now and then a grumbling mutter.
All at once a call sounded from far ahead.
"Come!" commanded Allan. Together he and Bremilu crept through the jungle toward the thicket.
Wide-eyed, yet seeing almost nothing, Allan crawled noiselessly, automatic in hand. The Merucaan slid along, silent as an Apache.
"Tell me if you see the thing again--if you see it turn!" whispered Stern. "Tell me, for you can see."
Now the distance was cut in half; now only a third of it remained. Before Stern it seemed a fathomless pit of black was opening. Under the close-woven arches of the giant fern-trees the night was impenetrable.
And as yet he dared not dart the light-beam into that pit of darkness, for fear of precipitating an unthinkable tragedy--if, indeed, the horror had not already been cons summated.
But now Bremilu gripped his arm. Afar, on the other side of the thicket, they heard a singular commotion, cries, shouts, and the vigorous beating of the fern-trees.
"The thing has turned, master!" the Merucaan exclaimed, at Allan's side. "Now throw the fire-death! Etvur! Quickly, throw!"
Stern swept the thicket with his beam.
"Ah! There--
there!"
The light caught a moving, hairy mass of brown--a huge, squat, terrible creature, its back now toward them. At one side Stern saw a vague blackness--the long, unbound hair of Beatrice!
He glimpsed a white arm dangling limp; and in his breast the heart flamed at white-heat of rage and passion.
But his hand was steel. Never in his life had he drawn so fine a bead.
"Hold the light for me!" he whispered, passing it to his companion. "I want both hands for this!"
Bremilu held the beam true, blinking strangely with his pink eyes. Stern, resting his pistol hand in the hollow of his left elbow, sighted true.
A fraction of a hair to the left, and the bullet might crash through the brain of Beatrice!
"Oh, God--if there be any God--speed the shot true--" he prayed, and fired.
A hideous yell, ripping the night to shreds, burst in a raw and rising discord through the forest--a scream as of a damned soul flung upon the brimstone.
Then, as he glimpsed the white arm falling and knew the thing had loosed its grip, the light died. Bremilu, starting at the sudden discharge close to his ear, had pressed the ivory button.
Stern snatched for the flash-lamp, fumbled it, and dropped it there among the lush growths underfoot.
Before he could more than stoop to feel for it a heavy crash through the wood told that the thing was charging.
With bubbling yells it came, trampling the undergrowth, drumming on its huge breast, gibbeting with demoniac rage and pain--came swiftly, like the terrific things that people nightmares.
Behind it, shouts echoed. Stern heard the voice of Zangamon as, spear in hand, the Merucaan pursued.
He raised his revolver once more, but dared not fire.
Yet only an instant he hesitated, in the fear of killing Zangamon.
For, quick-looming through the darkness, a huge bulk, panting, snarling, chattering, sprang--an avalanche of muscle, bone, fur, mad with murder--rage.
Crack! spoke the automatic, point-blank at this rushing horror, this blacker shadow in the blackness.
The fire-stab revealed a grinning white-fanged face close to his own, and clutching hands, and terrible, thick, hairy arms.
Then something hurled itself on Stern; something bore him backward--something beside which his strength was as a baby's--something vast, irresistible, hideous beyond all telling.
Stern felt the flesh of his left arm ripped up. Crushed, doubled, impotent, he fell.
And at his throat long fingers clutched. A fetid, stinking breath gushed hot upon his face. He heard the raving chatter of ivories, snapping to rend him.
Up sprang another shadow. High it swung a weapon. The blow thudded hollow, smashing, annihilating.
Hot liquid gushed over Allan's hand as he sought to beat the monster back.
Then, fair upon him, fell a crushing weight.
Swooning, he knew no more. _