CHAPTER XV
DR. KRAUSZ PROVES OBSTINATE
Hammer was by no means certain as to the attitude of Dr. Sigurd Krausz, and he was very certain indeed as to the attitude of the British East African officials. He knew that if he played a waiting game for a day or so, District Commissioner Smith would see to it that the scientist's force was disrupted and the askaris transported home, and his recent elbow-brush with the law had shown him very vividly that men do not die in East Africa without investigations, and reasonably thorough ones at that.
Wherefore, with the flame of vengeance no whit undimmed, but burning in the lamp of caution, he waited for Solomon to land the rest of the Arabs and the two Afghans, who had also been given rifles.
"Going to take the men up with us, John? It might be wiser not to make any display of arms until we see what Krausz intends to do."
Solomon nodded, and spoke in Arabic:
"Keep the men here, Omar. We'll be back before sunset."
"And if you do not come, effendi!"
"Then see that no one from the other party reaches their boats, but do not fire the first shot. If there is a fight, your task will be to cut them off from escape."
Mopping his streaming brow—for there was not a breath of wind—Solomon turned to the American.
"If so be as you're ready, sir? It don't seem as 'ow there'd be any trouble, Mr. 'Ammer; so we'll not take any arms, if it's the same to you, sir. Guns is all werry well in their place, I says; but if men wasn't so danged anxious to be carryin' of 'em there wouldn't be so many cartridges wasted, says I. So we'll go gentle like and meet the doctor 'alf-way, so to speak."
Hammer handed back the rifle he had taken from Yar Hussein, and nodded. Knowing the path up to the ruins, he plunged into the opening; but Solomon insisted on going ahead, fearing that Jenson might be lying in wait and might go crazed with fear again at sight of the American.
The latter laughed, and gave way, and he was surprised at the agility with which Solomon clambered along, for the pudgy little man gave no great evidence of bodily activity to a casual eye. Remembering the episode of Hans Schlak, however, Hammer decided to suspend judgement. He had already found John Solomon highly surprising in more ways than one.
Though he watched the jungle keenly as they proceeded, he could detect no sign of danger. But surely Jenson must have known that he would be followed, and Krausz would not be fool enough to put out no sentries!
Nor was he, as the American found out soon enough. They had covered perhaps half the trail, and had just crossed an open space amid the bamboo thickets, when Solomon, four yards ahead of Hammer, vanished around an abrupt turn in the trail.
The American pushed hastily after him, and upon rounding the same bend was brought up in startling fashion.
Solomon had halted, and directly in front of him Hammer saw Dr. Krausz calmly seated on a camp-stool, with that murderous, double-barrelled shot-gun of his covering the approach. So, then, their launch had been seen! Behind the doctor stood two gigantic Masai askaris, their black faces stolid.
For a moment, Krausz looked at the two men before him, his heavy face impassive, but that ribbon of muscle beating, beating, beating endlessly on his brow. He was perfectly sober, the American was glad to note, though none the less dangerous on that account; and when at last he broke the silence his voice was impassive as his face, as though he were exercising a great restraint upon himself.
"So you have come back, Mr. Hammer! And what are you doing in this man's company, Mr. Solomon—you who used to work for Professor Helmuth, yess?"
In his last words contempt flashed out, but Solomon's eyes only opened a trifle wider as he met the sullen, menacing gaze of Krausz. By tacit consent Hammer allowed his companion to do the talking.
Solomon's answer was characteristic, however. Before replying, he put a hand inside his coat, paying no heed to the swift movement of the doctor's shot-gun, and drew out his red, morocco-bound notebook. Then, wetting his thumb, he opened it and shuffled over the leaves until he found the place desired.
"Ah, 'ere it be, all ship-shape and proper!" He held it out, and Krausz took it, but without relaxing his vigilance. At a word from him the two Masai brought up their rifles while he glanced down at the notebook.
"Werry sorry I am, Dr. Krausz, sir," went on the little man apologetically, "for to bring this 'ere account to your notice, but you asked a question, sir, and so I answers according. If a man can't tell 'is business honest like, I says, why, 'e ain't no business 'aving any business, says I. If you'll just turn over the page, sir, I made so bold as to set down Mr. 'Ammer's account wi' Jenson, keepin' same separate and distinct from the account o' Solomon and 'Elmuth."
But Krausz was paying no heed to the words. As he read, his heavy jaw snapped shut, and a dark flush rose slowly to his brow, where the muscle was pulsating terribly.
Deeper and deeper grew the flush, though he forced himself to turn over the page and read to the end; then, with a swift movement, he dashed the notebook down and sprang up with fists extending and shaking, the shot-gun slipping unheeded to the ground.
"Swine!" he roared, furious almost beyond control. "Swine!"
Hammer prepared for anything as Krausz advanced, for one blow from the big man would put him or Solomon in hospital. The latter, however, only gave Krausz a reproachful glance and bent over to pick up the notebook, without heeding the great fists which waved about his head. The action seemed to both puzzle and calm the infuriated archaeologist.
"It iss foolishness!" he foamed, yet looked curiously at Solomon. "Thiss Professor Helmuth, she iss crazy, no?"
"No, sir," retorted Solomon simply; "no more'n I be, sir. You see, doctor, I was in partnership with 'er father, in a manner o' speakin', and 'e wrote me a letter before 'e went and died, 'e did."
"What?" Krausz controlled himself, swept the brutishness out of his face, and concentrated his keen energies on John Solomon's personality. "You were my supercargo, yess? Then you were a spy, also!"
"Yes, sir, so to speak. I——"
Krausz interrupted with a brusk gesture as he turned his broad back.
"Come."
Solomon and Hammer followed him, the two askaris falling in behind. Hammer was not at all convinced that Krausz did not intend treachery, but there was no help for it, and he followed, wondering if Sara Helmuth had by this time joined forces with Solomon's Arabs behind the camp.
He could not know what was in Krausz's mind, or if the scientist had by this time heard of Harcourt's death. It was possible, indeed, that Jenson had carried his trickery through to the extent of deceiving his master, though Krausz was not a man to be easily deceived.
Now the camp hove in sight ahead, and to his surprise Hammer saw that work on the ruins had been abandoned. More, the hastily-constructed huts of the natives seemed deserted, while the sailor-overseers were sitting idly beneath a large tree.
But, on the hill-top above, he could see an askari standing sentinel, while five more were scattered about the camp. Of Jenson there was no sign, and Hammer guessed rightly enough that the secretary was inside the doctor's tent.
"This is great state in which to receive poor wayfarers," said Hammer dryly. "Ready for our ultimatum, doctor?"
The other strode on without answering, curtly bade them wait, disappeared within his own tent, and emerged a moment later with one of his black panatelas smoking mightily.
Already irritated by the manner of their reception, the American suddenly found himself furiously angry, and flung off the hand of the ever-watchful Solomon without ceremony.
"No, you've said your say, John, and got nothing for it. I'll talk to this brute and show him that we mean business."
With which he strode up to Krausz grimly and delivered his "ultimatum" without any preliminaries.
"You mind your eye, Krausz! You're here after stealing a girl's property and trying to bluff her with threats, but I'm not calling you to account for that. You're shielding a murderer here, and I want him. You tried to shelter him once before and got what was coming to you, but you hand over Jenson now or you'll learn what's what in a very different way."
"Who hass he murdered?" The other eyed him, puffing calmly.
"Captain Harcourt, and I guess you know it!"
"And," Solomon came forward with something in his manner that was almost boldness, surprising Hammer greatly, "I'd like to say, doctor, as 'ow you'd better move out of 'ere werry quick, like. A man as'll steal from a lady, I says, ain't to be trusted nohow. It's 'uman nature to steal, I says, but——"
"Be quiet!" broke out Krausz, losing his calm. "How iss thiss? You say that Jenson killed Mr. Harcourt? That iss a lie! A damnable lie!" He glared at them, overlooking entirely the charges of Solomon.
"Well, do something," suggested the American challengingly. "Hand him over or refuse, one of the two."
"Wait," and Krausz pointed to the tent of Sara Helmuth. "Go in there, both of you, and in the morning——"
"Not on your life," and Hammer took a step forward threateningly. "You make up your mind right here and now, Krausz. I don't give a whoop which you do—all I want to know is——"
"Go," repeated the other, displaying no other emotion than the pulsating ribbon of muscle. "Go, or my askaris take their whips to you, and shoot if you refuse, yess! Now go."
Hammer, breathing hard, saw an askari approach, trailing the long lash of a rhinoceros-hide whip behind him, two others standing with rifles ready.
"Then you will give us your decision in the morning, doctor?" asked Solomon rather humbly. Krausz flung him a swift look of contempt.
"Yess, to you and Mr. Hammer both. Go!"
Solomon turned and went. Hammer hesitated, but seeing that they were practically prisoners, turned and followed.
At anyrate, thought the angry American, the enemy had taken the offensive and had only himself to blame for what followed.
An escape that night, or a signal to the Arabs, who were, no doubt, aware of what was forward, and Krausz would find himself up against something solid.
But Solomon had no intention of either escaping or signalling, as he flatly stated when Hammer had exhausted his arguments. The other, sucking his clay pipe, accepted the situation very complacently.
"What better could we 'ave asked, Mr. 'Ammer? ''Ere,' says 'e, 'I'll give you me answer in the morning.' 'Werry good,' says I. 'E can't get away, nor can Jenson. Nor, for the matter o' that, can we; but 'e thinks as 'ow our men are down by the shore and 'e don't know about them as Miss 'Elmuth 'as. It wasn't worry as made Methusalum live longer'n most men, sir, as the Good Book says."
Hammer grunted, but knowing the hopelessness of trying to shake Solomon's conviction, said no more. His eagerness to get hold of the man was accentuated a thousandfold by Jenson's nearness, yet he could see that there was some reason in Solomon's argument.
Also, two askaris brought in their supper before long, and since they were to eat alone, Hammer pitched in and made a good meal, feeling more comfortable over a pipe afterward.
In any case, they had Krausz on the hip, what with the men watching the boats and the second party in the ruins of the real fort.
For that matter, he need not be made to move; they could settle down and dig up the treasure, as Solomon had hinted, without the Germans knowing anything at all about it.
What Hammer did not know was that the reading of that notebook and Solomon's words about stealing from a lady had sent a desperate and terrible fear through the big Saxon.
It was not the fear of bodily ill, but it was the fear of the scientist who sees that thing for which he has worked and planned and bartered his soul suddenly about to be snatched from him.
It is a bad fear to have place in a man's heart, but worse when that man is able and determined and when he has staked much upon the issue.
"What's become of the natives?" asked Hammer when they were about to turn in. "Krausz had about two hundred of 'em the last time I was here."
Solomon chuckled. "I sent 'em word to be gone 'ome, sir. They worship some kind o' snake god 'ereabouts, Mr. 'Ammer, so I sent 'em a quiet 'int that the doctor 'e was a-goin' to sacrifice some of 'em. That settled it."
"Snake god?" repeated the American thoughtfully. "Anything to do with that den of snakes we were talking about?"
"Not as I knows on, sir. To be downright frank, it's some years since I've been and lived 'ere, sir, and I ain't kept in touch rightly wi' things. 'Owsoever, it may be, though I 'as me doubts."
"Snakes don't live without food," retorted Hammer. "They might have a sort of voodoo business along here, which would explain their snake god and also why the snakes had kept alive—for I guess Omar ibn Kasim was telling the truth after all, in part."
Leaving to the morning the question whether they were to be hostages or captives or free men, Hammer slept the sleep of the just that night. They were wakened to receive an early breakfast, which was soon followed by the intimation that "Bwana Krausz" wished to see them in the other tent. Solomon nodded, but stopped Hammer as the latter was preparing to follow the Masai.
"Just a minute, sir. It strikes me that you 'ave a way to make 'im give up Jenson, if so be as 'e refuses, Mr. 'Ammer."
"Eh? How's that?"
"Why, 'e don't know about the real fort, and no more 'e don't know as Jenson 'as 'fessed up to Miss 'Elmuth about them there papers 'e stole from 'er father. Jenson 'asn't been and told 'im, you can lay to that, sir! 'E'll be fair mad when 'e finds it out."
"Oh, if it comes to that, we'll make him give in," returned the American slowly. "But I don't fancy the method, John, and that's a fact. I'm sore at that big Dutchman for his general conduct, and I'd like to make him crawl without using any such side-issues. But we'll see what turns up; it's certainly a good card to hold."
They found Krausz seated at the table in his own tent, two askaris at the door, and two more of the seamen within call. At one side sat Jenson, who was very plainly possessed by one of his cowardly fits, and who contented himself with darting a venomous glance at the two as they entered.
Krausz motioned Solomon to one side and transfixed Hammer with a baleful stare, at which the American grew angry instantly.
"Well?" he rasped out, "what have you to say?"
"Thiss, my friend. I have found out who killed Mr. Harcourt. He wass a good man, and a good captain, and I am sorry. Adolf did not kill him, but you did, and for that you shall hang by the neck, yess. Ass for taking Adolf away, that iss foolishness. Adolf shall take you, yess."
Hammer collected himself, for he had half-expected such a counter accusation from the secretary, who was desperately endeavouring to weave such a network of lies about the death of Harcourt that he might be able ultimately to wriggle out through some loophole. Angry as the American was, he laughed shortly.
"Suit yourself, Krausz. Adolf never goes away from here except in irons, though. So, now that you've settled me so neatly, what about Mr. Solomon?"
Krausz turned to Solomon, who looked very wide-eyed at him.
"As for you, Mr. Solomon, I do not like people with notebooks, no. You also are a very big liar, and to a bad end you will come. I might prosecute you for blackmail, but no. Out you shall go, but do not think you can——"
"Bwana!"
A sudden disturbance arose outside, followed by a shout in German. One of the seamen entered and made a hurried speech in that language, to which the doctor nodded, looking slightly surprised. The man hurried out again.
"Ah! I thought we saw you land Miss Helmuth yesterday, yess!" He beamed on the American, caressing the thin cigar in his mouth, and his face was cruel. "Also I thought she would not stay out in the jungle long, for here she iss!"
Hammer started. Was Sara really coming, then? She or Omar must have seen that he and Solomon were prisoners, of course, but it was a mad thing to come in and throw away their best chance of rescue!
He flung a despairing glance at Solomon, which fetched a chuckle from Krausz, but Solomon merely stared like a surprised baby and kept silence.
Of course the girl would lead out her men and make what show of force she could, thought Hammer, edging around to get a view of the ground immediately outside the tent.
With fifteen men here, and ten more under Omar against his fourteen, even the stubborn Saxon must see that he was outnumbered. An instant later the American felt dismay tugging at his heart.
For Sara Helmuth came in alone, with neither Afghan nor Arab behind her, but with an askaris and a seaman conducting her. With a glance at Hammer and Solomon she walked up to Krausz, who doffed his sun-helmet for a wonder, and opened fire.
"What does this mean, doctor? Are my friends your prisoners?"
"Not at all, dear lady," he beamed, putting forward a camp-chair, which she ignored. "Thiss Mr. Hammer iss a murderer, and later on Adolf takes him back to justice, yess! Thiss Mr. Solomon is an impudent little fat man, who gets turned out in the jungle to starve—but away from hiss men, yess, away from hiss men. Not on the seaward side, you understand!"
He smirked knowingly, and the anger in the girl flashed out.
"You scoundrel! For a man of your position to stoop so low as to steal and lie! Oh, I know the whole story now! You stole those papers from my father, your friend, as he was dying; but you didn't steal them all, Dr. Sigurd Krausz! Poor fool of a thief that you are, not even to know a fort from a slave barracoon—and yet you call yourself an archaeologist! Why, you don't even know what the treasure is yet, the best part of it, nor where it is, nor where the real fort is! And you never will know. Now, either send Mr. Hammer and Mr. Solomon safely out with me, or I'll——"
"Beggin' your pardon, miss, but if so be as I could smoke it'd be a mortal help!"
The words were a desperate effort on the part of Solomon to save the situation. So rapidly had the furious girl poured out her denunciation that before Hammer realized what she was saying, before any one could intervene, she had given away the secret.
Solomon's words, however, and the look that he flashed her, saved her from letting Krausz know any more. It was all-important that he should not know that they had men in the jungle ready to spring at his throat.
As she realized what she had said she went deadly pale; but there was no wavering in her eyes, and Hammer, dismayed though he was, could not but approve her for it. Krausz, too, caught the meaning of her words, but more slowly.
As he grasped their import his face changed from red to white, and a snarl came into his eyes; then he sank into his camp-chair, gazing steadily at her as he forced himself into control and tried to read meaning into her words.
"You know the whole story now—so! And they were not all stolen, yess? But what iss thiss—that I do not know a fort from a slave barracoon—Himmel! That iss why we found nothing! And, fräulein, you know all these things, yess?"
"I do, and you shall not know them."
"Listen, fräulein!" He leaned forward, sweat dripping from his face, and earnestness in every feature, while the ribbon of muscle on his brow pounded furiously.
"You know thiss, and I do not, hein? What will you take that you shall tell me? It iss nothing to you, it iss everything to me!"
"Tell you?" And the scorn in her voice lashed him like a whip. "Thief and liar that you are! Tell you? I would sooner tell that man Jenson there than you!"
"Ah, yess! Jenson!" Still he gazed at her, fighting himself hard. "I have made a mistake, then? Thiss iss not the fort, but I knew that much already, fräulein! And this Mr. Hammer iss your friend—Ach, mein Gott! It wass you who told about the papers, Jenson!"
The big Saxon whirled in his chair, his hand shot out, and Jenson, clutched by the shoulder, was dragged bodily over the table into the group. The fellow was too frightened even to whimper, and the blaze in the eyes of Krausz seemed to paralyse him.
"So, it wass you who told, while you were away! You told, swine! Listen, fräulein! Tell me what you know, and we shall be partners, yess! Tell me, and this Mr. Hammer he shall take Adolf with him! Perhaps it wass Adolf who killed Captain Harcourt, after——"
Quick as Jenson was, the scientist was quicker, his foot shooting out with the swiftness of light. Hammer fancied that Jenson's wrist was broken by the kick, for he screamed once, horribly, even before the knife fell to the ground. Krausz flung him to the seamen with an order in German, and a moment later Hammer was seized and his hands bound before he could resist.
The incident aroused all the brute in Krausz and he stood glaring around for a moment, Sara Helmuth instinctively shrinking before him.
"You, fräulein, you know me! Yess, the papers were stolen, but I did not come to the right place? Then you shall tell me where that place it iss.
"I will not," came her firm answer.
Krausz turned and snapped out an order in German, pointing to Hammer. The American saw one of the sailors snatch the rhinoceros-hide whip from the askari, but the girl's face had gone white.
"Stop!" she almost screamed. "I'll tell—I'll take you there; but not that!"
"Good," grunted the Saxon, watching her malevolently. Jenson, bound and writhing impotently, was laid on the ground, and he took the whip from the seaman.
"Get up, Jenson." A stroke of the whip and Jenson rose; what with the whip and his arm, the man was in agony, and Hammer almost pitied him.
A few orders from Krausz, and Solomon was bidden go where he willed—on the landward side of camp; two askaris forced Jenson and Hammer along, two more followed, and with Krausz and Sara Helmuth walking side by side the party proceeded up the hill toward the jungle and the ruins beyond, while John Solomon looked after them for an instant and then incontinently took to his heels.
CHAPTER XVI
THE PLACE OF SKULLS
Cyrus Hammer, as he was forced along beside Jenson, was aware that the crisis had come in the twinkling of an eye and that he had proven wanting. Sara Helmuth had met it in his place—and Krausz had proven victor.
On the surface, at least. But, as he heard Sara Helmuth telling the scientist the tale of the real fort, Hammer smiled to himself. She might reveal the secret of the fort and treasure and all else—for Krausz had done the very thing which Hammer had never for an instant dreamed that he would do in releasing John Solomon.
The American recollected that, to Krausz, Solomon was no more than a mere pudgy little man who had shoved himself into the affairs of others, and for whom a day of wandering in the jungle would be veritable torture.
Krausz had woven his own net, for the only man there able to warn him against Solomon was Jenson, and from Jenson he would receive no warning. Moreover, Hammer saw that vengeance was like to be taken from his hands, since Jenson's punishment was slowly but surely drawing in upon him.
His exultation did not last long, however. He soon saw that, short of a murderous volley which would cut down all four askaris and Krausz with them, Solomon could not do much to help them just at present.
The girl was telling Krausz of the treasure now as they stood among the trenches on the hill, where tools lay flung about as the natives had deserted them.
Krausz had done a good deal, thought Hammer; in that week he had found out for himself that he was on a false scent—and that despite Solomon's prediction to the contrary.
Behind them the camp lay quiet, smoke curling up from the fires, the seamen and the four remaining askaris looking after the party. In front stretched the jungle, deep green and yellow tangles of vines and trees and bamboos. The girl turned to Hammer.
"Do you know just how to get in there, Hammer?" she said wearily. "I've promised to guide the doctor there, and——"
He saw that she was trying not to betray the secret of the camp from which she had come, but with Solomon gone to his men, as he plainly was, there was naught to be feared.
"Lead us by the path you came," he reassured her, Krausz paying no heed, but searching the jungle with eager eyes. "The ruins ought to be straight back from these, about two hundred yards or so."
She caught the meaning of his words and his quick smile and, with an answering flash in her eyes, turned back to Krausz, who still bore the whip taken from the askari. Though he carried no gun, Hammer caught a bulge in the coat-pocket of the big Saxon and knew that he was not unarmed.
Now, without further hesitation, Sara Helmuth led the way across the half-trenched lines of ruins. The American saw that when she had come to the camp that morning out of the jungle-hid fort it had been with little fear of such a result as this.
Perhaps trusting in John Solomon or himself, perhaps determined, if necessary, to force the doctor's hand by threat of exposure—any one of a hundred reasons flashed through Hammer's mind; but the central thought was that she had borne herself far better than had he.
Bound, helpless, marched at the side of the staggering, moaning Jenson, he found himself forced into a narrow path, and the jungle closed around them.
Krausz was not careless, however. Finding that the path was actually walled in by trees, bamboos, and creepers, and doubtless suspicious at seeing it recently cleared, he sent an askari ahead, then Sara Helmuth, and followed himself, with another askari behind, his long whip ready for action, and ordered Hammer and his guard immediately behind, while Jenson and the fourth Masai brought up the rear.
Barely had they got well in shelter of the jungle than Hammer, with Jenson's moans coming from behind like the inarticulate cries of a trapped beast, felt the hand of his guard fumbling with the cords that bound his wrists.
He half-turned in surprise, when a hand on his shoulder pressed him about again; with the fingers of his other hand the Masai tapped gently on the little silver ring Hammer still wore, and the latter understood.
This Masai fighting man, brought by Jenson from Zanzibar to defend Krausz, with the German eagle on tunic and fez, had recognized the sign of John Solomon, and had made answer to it!
Almost as the unbelievable thought found its way into his brain he felt that his bonds were loosened; a warning hand pressed his wrist again, and was gone. He comprehended that for the present he was not to free himself, and though the impulse was in him to leap on Krausz from behind, he held it in check and followed blindly.
In one respect at least the scientist seemed sincere, and that was in his belief, inspired by Jenson, that Hammer had stabbed Harcourt. Indeed, in matters foreign to his calling Krausz was probably all that could be wished.
But he, too, beginning at the comparatively innocuous point of taking the papers belonging to the dying Helmuth, had been wound in the skein of cumulative wrong-doing, reflected Hammer. He was not weak like Jenson, however; his wrong-doing was aggressive, determined, positive, while that of Jenson was decidedly negative.
Where the hiding-place of the relics and papers was the American himself did not know, though Solomon and the girl did. Now Krausz knew as well, or soon would, for Hammer divined Sara's intention perfectly.
She would give up all in order to appease the Saxon, depending on Solomon to eventually overpower the latter, if he did not first prevent the disclosure of the secret.
Hammer spared no thought on himself. That he was in any present danger did not occur to him, since he could not suspect the thoughts behind the doctor's heavy-lidded eyes and throbbing band of muscle.
For the jungle smell had entered into the nostrils of the scientist—and whether it be in jungle or forest or sand reaches, no man can taste the loneliness of Nature and hold to his veneer of man-learning.
It is the same whether he be beside the Mackenzie or the Mahakkam, under Kilimanjaro or Tacoma. Once away from his kind, man forgets his kind, for the despotism of the wild overbears all else.
It was so with Krausz and, to a certain sense, with Sara Helmuth; it was so with Hammer, though he did not comprehend it; but if it was so with John Solomon no man could say.
"We are here," exclaimed the girl dully.
The party halted. Without perceiving it in the half-gloom of the overhanging masses of vegetation, they had suddenly come among half-fallen walls, ruined stone structures that loomed far up and were held in place by thigh-thick vines.
Through some had pierced old trees and limbs of trees, yet the walls still held in grotesque mimicry; no roofs were there, but only walls and ruins of walls. And over the place brooded silence, with never a chattering of monkey or parrot's screech to quiver hollowly up.
Hammer felt a twitch at his arm, but shook off the hand of the askari. If the man thought he was going to run for it and leave Sara Helmuth in the lurch, he was much mistaken. Slowly, very slowly, the American saw that men had been here not long before, since in amid the ruins were evidences of clearing—lopped branches piled up in places, flickering shadow-gleams of sunlight that filtered down from somewhere above, and queer white fragments that strewed the ground in spots.
If Krausz saw this, however, he paid small heed, but clambered over a smoothed-out pile of stones, the others following.
"Gott! Truly thiss iss the real place!"
He stood looking around, caressing the handle of the whip with his fingers. On three sides towered walls and trees and vines, inextricable and undefined; where walls ended and trees began it was impossible to say, for the growth of two hundred jungle years is not to be lightly set aside by a few Arabs in a week's time. Jenson sank down where he stood, cowed into silence by the silence around.
Suddenly, as if the echoes of the doctor's words had worked through the interstices of the leafy roof, a great burst of shrill chattering arose somewhere overhead.
Hammer jumped, startled; at the same instant two or three white objects shot down from nowhere, apparently. Two burst into shreds, the other struck a mossy wall and rebounded to the feet of Krausz, who leaped back in alarm.
One half-stifled shriek burst from the first askari and stilled the clamour above. Sara Helmuth stared at the thing, as did everyone else, her face very pale; and Hammer knew, at last, that Omar ibn Kasim had spoken truth indeed—for the object was a skull.
An oath from Krausz recalled the frightened askaris to their vigilance. He stood mopping his brow and staring from the unbroken skull to the trees above, and, as Hammer glanced up, he saw one or two dark forms flitting about the top of the nearest wall and vanishing in the trees.
"Monkeys!" exclaimed Sara Helmuth, her eyes unnaturally large, but her voice firm. "Are you afraid of monkeys and skulls, Herr Doctor?"
For answer Krausz snorted and picked up the skull. He flung it away instantly.
"Pah! It iss mouldy—it hass been the ground in. Monkeys—pigs of scavengers! Yess, thiss iss the place."
For a moment he stood silent. Then, for the gruesome thing must have wakened the depths of him, he swiftly changed the whip to his left hand, drew a revolver with the other, and turned on the group behind him.
Hammer started at the change in the man. His great brow was mottled, as were his cheeks, save for the panting band of muscle that stood out deep red, and his black eyes gleamed with something that was near akin to ferocity. Never had Hammer seen such a face on a man, and now, for the first time, a strange alarm stirred within him.
Krausz tried to speak, but could not for a moment; lips and tongue were dry, and his voice came in a hoarse growl that betrayed how that monkey-flung skull had got on his nerves.
"You tricked me, yess!" he cried at length. "You tricked me, Sigurd Krausz! You, fräulein, you, and Adolf here! But no more shall you trick me, no. I——"
He paused quickly, plainly fighting for his lost self-control, meeting the firm eyes of Sara Helmuth. Hammer, fearing that the man would break out into violence, tensed his muscles and measured the distance between them, but Krausz lowered his revolver as slow sanity crept back into his eyes.
The girl still faced him, though she had shrunk back before that mad outburst, and in reply her voice came low, but with a note that seemed to calm his rage, so cold and self-contained was it. Hammer noted that she made no gesture as for a weapon; she must have come unarmed, probably on the impulse of the moment.
"Yes, you were tricked, Her Doctor—tricked by a girl. And you are called the greatest archaeologist in Europe! Dresden will laugh when it hears the story, doctor—the story of how you dug for a week in the ruins of a storehouse, while the fort you were in search of lay under your nose here. And then the treasure!
"Now free me and Mr. Hammer there, and I promise you that this shall never be known in Europe, Dr. Krausz. If the story came out it would blast your reputation, and you know it well."
Krausz looked at her, frowning as if in hard thought. Hammer saw that the strain was telling heavily upon her, and breathed a sigh of relief when the scientist replied:
"Yess, it would my reputation blast, fräulein. That iss very right—very. But listen. You have told me that the treasure was in two parts, yess, and the relics and papers, I do not know where they are. But you know, fräulein. Now tell me, take me to thiss place also, then will I free you and Mr. Hammer and Adolf—yess, you shall go free with Adolf, both of you!"
As he made this offer, there was something about the narrowed eyes of the man that Hammer did not like. Sara Helmuth studied him for a moment, but she was plainly weakening fast.
Something of the fetid aspect of the place seemed to be in the face of Krausz, and she palpably distrusted him; but he forced quietude into his features and stared stolidly at her, waiting.
Another white object fluttered down from above with a chattering that floated away amid the tree-tops, and the girl shuddered as the skull struck the wall behind her and shivered rottenly.
"How—how if I refuse?"
"If you refuse, fräulein, the whip—and no promise."
He gestured with his hand toward Hammer. The girl flung the latter one helpless glance, and bowed her head as she turned.
"Come."
Krausz, with triumph beaming from his massive features, motioned the others to fall in line, and they went as at first, out across the fallen wall. To the American the place was shapeless, formless, but Krausz cast quick nodding glances about him, and Sara Helmuth did not hesitate.
Hammer felt his heart throbbing—the atmosphere of the jungle-hid ruins was oppressive, stultifying. The girl led them across fallen walls and past cleared spaces to a great heap of ruins overgrown thickly.
Through it led a hard-beaten path, and with half-darkness about them she paused at what seemed to be a square hole in the ground, perhaps a dozen feet across, with trees roofing all in overhead. Here the path ended.
"It is there," she said simply.
Krausz growled something at the askaris, and went forward. Hammer, watching, saw him stop suddenly as though listening. Then, at the edge of the hole, he laid down revolver and whip and went to his knees, and so flat on his belly, his hands gripping roots on either side of him.
Here he stayed motionless for what seemed ages to the overwrought American. When, at last, he crawled upright, his hands were shaking tremulously, his face was ghastly white, and he clutched at a near-by tree for support.
"Mein Gott!" he said thickly, staring at the girl. "Mein Gott! Mein Gott!"
CHAPTER XVII
THE PIT OF ADDERS
Hammer could not understand himself. He was practically free, he realized fully that this was the time to act, when Krausz was unarmed, and yet his brain was dulled and refused to impart movement to his limbs. He stared at Krausz, fascinated by the least movement of the man, utterly unable to do a thing.
Whether it was auto-hypnotism, or whether the terrible deadening influence that had come upon him was caused by the noxious jungle bringing back his fever, the American never knew.
Jenson had ceased to moan, and crouched at one side by his guard, cowed. The Masai cast uneasy glances about and at each other, but still Krausz stared at Sara Helmuth, who seemed to droop under his gaze.
"You knew, yess?" he muttered finally.
She nodded listlessly.
"Yes. I stayed near here last night. I was here."
The colour flowed back into the face of the scientist little by little. Turning his back on the party, he stooped and picked up revolver and whip, then stood looking down at that which lay in the blackness of the hole.
Hammer wanted to scream, but he could not, for some unseen power had paralysed his muscles. He wondered, idly, what lay in that hole, but he was more interested in watching the big Saxon. He had never seen Krausz so completely overcome before, he thought, and it made him want to laugh.
"By Godfrey!" He shook himself, conquering that terrible apathy. "You've got to quit this, old man, or God knows what'll happen. That chap is breeding trouble and first thing you know he'll spring something bad."
Why the thought came to him he could not tell, but come it did. Krausz turned, with a nervous glance around at the silent trees, but there was no danger in his face, save that the tell-tale ribbon of muscle was pounding madly.
Then once more the scientist went to the brink of the hole and looked down. It was as if he were reflecting on something, weighing something over in his mind before coming to a decision.
A half-sound caught Hammer's attention and he looked at Sara Helmuth. She had turned partly aside, her head was down in her two hands, and her shoulders were shaking softly as she stood. Overcome by the horror of the place, she had given way at last, and the sight was too much for Hammer.
As if by magic he felt himself once more, with all his old quickness of thought and vigour of action returned to him. Solomon had failed them and they were alone, and the thought brought responsibility back to him.
Quietly slipping his hands free of the loosened cords, he strode over to the girl's side, none hindering him, and in the face of the jungle horror about them he put an arm about her shoulders, drawing her head to his breast.
"Quiet, Sara," and he patted her back in a clumsy effort to soothe her. "It's all right, girl—don't cry. We'll get out of this place and forget about it——"
For several weeks now Sara Helmuth had forced herself into the position of a man among men, playing a lone hand in the dark, and while friendship had come to her in the guise of Solomon and Hammer, her woman's soul had craved sympathy as a child craves its mother's arms.
Furthermore, the place in which they stood mirrored dread into her soul, for only the evening before she had stood at the edge of that hole and gazed down while the Arabs held torches aloft and looked grimly at each other. So, but chiefly because of Hammer's actions and words, she smiled once and fainted.
The American felt frightened for a moment, then relief came to him. The burden had been put on his shoulders, and, allowing the girl to slip to the ground, he turned to find Krausz looking at them and frowning, blackness brooding in his eyes and an evil twist to his heavy jaw.
"She hass fainted? That iss good."
"Yes, she's fainted: but you'll notice that she kept her word first." Hammer's anger turned cold within him, for as he wondered what frightful thing lay in that hole he remembered the story of the pit of snakes—and he dreaded snakes as he dreaded no other thing on earth.
"She's kept her word, Krausz, so I guess it's up to you to keep yours. You lend me a couple of these askaris to carry Miss Helmuth and we'll be going."
"Wait."
The scientist seemed oddly apprehensive, seemed as if he were trying to say something which could not find utterance. He looked at Hammer, then at the askaris, then at the jungle above and around, and finally beckoned.
"Come—look at thiss thing."
Hammer did not want to look, yet it seemed as though some force drew him to follow the other to the edge of that black hole. Now he knew why the horror had come upon him, the snake-fear which lies at the bottom of many men's souls and which is not to be explained or reasoned away.
"Mein Gott—look at them!"
The American obeyed with cold chills gripping his spine. Yet he could see little. The pit was deep, very deep. As his eyes searched the darkness of it he guessed that the bottom was twenty feet away.
Then a soft, slithering sound broke the dead stillness, and a low "his-s-s" which there was no mistaking.
"Adders," stated the doctor decidedly. "Puff-adders, my friend, and a bite it iss death, yess!"
Hammer did not know a puff-adder from a black snake, but he did know why the other had gazed so long into that pit of darkness, for there was a deadly fascination about it that compelled his eyes despite his loathing.
"If the treasure iss there, it can wait, yess!" exclaimed the scientist.
The American mentally added that it could wait until what Sherman said war was froze over, for all of him; but he still looked down until gradually the thing took shape before him.
The sides of the pit were straight and well paved, slimy, mossy, with never a break in the stones. Far down something scintillated for an instant, then again, and the slithering noise went rustling faintly without cessation. Hammer was aware that Krausz had come to his side and was pointing down.
"There—look at that. It iss a platform, no?"
With the words the scientist scraped a match and flung it down. The American got a glimpse of a small jutting-out stone, some two feet square, half-way down the pit, and below that a twining, shuddering mass of something that drove him reeling back with sickness strong upon him.
"That's enough," he gasped, wiping the cold sweat from his face. "I'll get out of here and stay gone, don't worry——"
"Stop!"
There was a new note in the voice of Krausz, and it brought Hammer around instantly. The other had followed him back from the hole, and was glaring at him with such mad eyes that instinctively the American took a step backward.
"You are not going away," said the big Saxon slowly, his eyes burning into those of Hammer. The band of muscle was deep crimson, and it was pulsating like a wild thing against the man's white brow. Hammer's foot struck against the limp form of Sara Helmuth, and the touch restored him from his panic.
"Eh? What's that?" he exclaimed, unbelieving.
"I say you are not going away—you and Adolf and Professor Helmuth, yess!"
"What's the matter with you?" demanded Hammer, thoroughly angry. "You promised that when——"
"Yess, and my promise I shall keep—but thiss way." Krausz gestured with his whip toward the hole. "I promised to set you free, nein?"
Between anger at the man and fear of what lay behind him, Hammer stared at him astounded. It had not occurred to him that Krausz would not perform his part of the agreement—but what did he mean by "thiss way"?
The big Saxon went on, his jaw pushed forward aggressively, his eyes fastened banefully on Hammer:
"Fools! Did you think that I would let you go, yess, to make of me a joke before all Europe? Ach, no! Am I, Sigurd Krausz, to be tricked and made a fool?"
He turned swiftly to the nearest askari—the same who had freed Hammer.
"Go back to the camp and bring a rope—quick, you black swine!"
The man saluted, flung Hammer a helpless look, and disappeared. The other three watched, leaning on their rifles.
"What do you mean?" began the American, aghast before the terrible thought that had leaped into his brain. Krausz flung about on him, raging.
"Mean? What do I mean? American pig! Iss my work to be spoiled by thiss fräulein? No! Ach, but Adolf iss a devil! He betrays everyone, but he shall not betray Sigurd Krausz. No, nor you, American. I meant to kill you all, but now I have a better way, yess, and I shall my promise keep. Later I will come back, yess, and get the treasure and give it to the world—my treasure, my papers, my relics!
"Never hass so great a chance come—and it iss not to be perilled by you. So I tell you plainly, American, you shall not play with Sigurd Krausz."
Then, too late, Hammer realized that the look in the other's eyes was little short of madness. He cast a look around, but the jungle hedged them in, silent and merciless, with no sign of Solomon or aid.
But—what did the madman mean to do? He was crazed on the subject of his work, that was plain, and whether the jungle mania had unbalanced him or not, there was a fury in his eyes.
"What do you mean?" asked Hammer again. "Don't think you can get away with any dirty work, Krausz, or Solomon——"
"Bah! Do not joke with me. Listen—you saw that platform, American? Then I tell you that you and Adolf Jenson and Professor Helmuth, you shall stand there until you get tired. You shall be free, yess—but you cannot get up, and when you go down you will not play with Sigurd Krausz any——"
Hammer saw red and struck. The whole insane scheme darted clear to his mind, and he drove his fist home into that mocking face with a furious curse. Krausz flung up his revolver-hand, but Hammer dashed it aside and the weapon fell; he saw Krausz reel back and knew he had crushed the man's nose with his first blow, but he followed with relentless fury in his heart.
Krausz tried to fight him off, and he saw the three askaris closing in on him; then he felt the whip curl about him, sending a terrible red wale over his cheek and biting into his body; but time and again those fists which had won him his name stabbed into the face of the big Saxon—until the askaris ground him to the earth by main weight and tied him.
The American glared up, still raging in his helplessness. Krausz had dropped his whip and was clinging to a long vine that trailed down across the body of Jenson, who had not moved.
The fight had hardly lasted a minute, but Hammer had learned his trade in a hard school. The heavy features of Krausz were crushed into a red mass, for the first blow of Hammer's had splintered his nose; yet, for all the pain he must have been suffering, Krausz said no word.
Groping for his handkerchief, he slowly wiped the blood from his eyes, then stooped and picked up his pith helmet and put it on, carefully letting down the mosquito-gauze about his features.
There was something in the action, something of iron tenacity, that made Hammer hold his breath, waiting for he knew not what. With that crimsoned visage masked from sight, Sigurd Krausz appeared even more formidable. Hammer knew that his outburst had effected nothing.
Yet it had been half panic. The scientist's fiendish plan had sent a shudder of abhorrence through him; the very odour of that pit nauseated him, and he had lashed out in a frenzy of mingled fear and rage. Then the memory of that narrow shelf of rock——
"By Godfrey!" thought the American desperately, "if Solomon doesn't show up in a hurry it's all off! That ledge won't hold more than one person, that's sure."
Panic-stricken, he watched the Saxon. Krausz took a step, and stumbled across Jenson, all but falling. At the same moment the askari who had been sent to camp returned, panting, carrying a length of rope.
Krausz seized it from him and bent the end around under Jenson's arms. From where he stood Hammer could see how the secretary trembled, and a moment later he shrank away from Krausz, scrambling desperately to regain his feet, screaming.
"Don't!" The wail shrilled up. "Don't! Oh—God——"
Krausz had signalled to the askaris, who shut off Jenson's screams with grins of delight. It was not the sort of work they usually did for white people, but to Masai hearts it was glorious. Hammer realized that the one friendly man could do nothing for him, and his cheeks blanched.
He watched Jenson carried to the edge of the pit and carefully lowered. A jerk or two freed the rope, and since no sound came forth, Hammer supposed that the man had reached the ledge in safety. Krausz turned to where Sara Helmuth lay, still senseless.
Then the American knew that there was no hope, that this fiend would actually carry out his threat, and he felt his flesh creep at the thought.
He pictured to himself that narrow ledge, with Jenson already there—ready to fight off whomever came next.
If the girl was sent down alone, unconscious as she was, what little chance she had would be gone, while he, Hammer, was whimpering up here!
He slowly got to his feet, the askari who stood over him pulling him up, and, as Krausz leaned over the girl with the rope ready, Hammer knew that he had become himself once more. He might die, but he would die like a man.
"Put that rope around me, Krausz," he said calmly. "I'll take her in my arms, if you'll untie my wrists."
The other straightened up, turning toward him, and Hammer saw the little dribble of blood that trickled down the front of his khaki coat from beneath the helmet-gauze. He noted, too, that Krausz feared to trust him, and added desperately:
"I'll give you my word, doctor, to make no trouble. Let's have it over with decency."
"Good!" came the rumbling response, with a gesture to one of the Masai. The latter cut Hammer's bonds, and the American strode to the side of Sara, lifting her in his arms. Then, with firm step but ghastly face, for the feeling of revulsion was almost too strong to be endured, he walked to the brink of the pit, and waited.
"Hurry, for God's sake!" he gasped.
The rope was put around him, under his shoulders; he did not feel how it cut into him as his weight came upon it. He knew only that terrible darkness was rising up at him, that the nightmare had begun, that slimy mossy stones were all about him.
He strove for a footing with his hanging feet, but to no avail. The walls were smooth, fissureless; he could not look down because of the body of the girl who lay in his arms. And it was as well that he could not, for an instant later his foot struck something soft.
He almost screamed at the touch, having forgotten Jenson for a moment; then he remembered. What next happened he could not tell; he felt himself swinging on the rope, and a great fear surged into him that the Masai had dropped him.
Then he knew that Jenson was beating against his legs, trying to drive him off with his beast-like, wordless whimpers.
He felt that he was kicking out in desperation, and his foot landed once; then from below came a single strangled cry, followed by a soft thud, and an instant later he was afoot on the rock ledge.
How long he stood there holding Sara Helmuth he never knew, for he was battling with all his will-power to get control of the awful horror that was over him. The snake-fear had gripped him, and the very rock at his back seemed to be a living thing that was pressing him forward, trying to fling him to the things below. This must have been the rope loosening from him, however, for presently he had conquered himself and the rope was gone from about him.
For a little space he did not realize that he was in any great danger. He was a good ten feet above the things that crawled down there and as much below the surface; he thought of Jenson, but spared no pity on the man; and the remembrance of his own words regarding the snake-pit and Jenson even brought the faintest flicker of a smile to his tense lips. Yet in his bitterest moments he could not have wished the man such agony as was now his own.
He listened for some sound from above, but none came. Had Krausz departed to cure his own hurts or was he waiting for some word from his victims? Hammer compressed his lips tighter; at least, the Saxon would not have the satisfaction of hearing him whimper, he thought. He was thankful that the girl showed no signs of wakening from her swoon.
But how was Solomon to know where they were? He could not have been watching, or he would have prevented the terrible deed at all costs; of that Hammer was assured.
If he did not shout for aid—but what good would shouting do him? The sound would be lost in the pit or in the leafy roof above; he could not have pierced that mass of vegetation if he had had the lungs of Stentor.
It occurred to him that if he set the girl down on the ledge at his feet he might be able to get out in some way. There was only a ten-foot wall above him, and even the mosses would give him foothold.
Besides, her weight was beginning to tell on his arms, and he could not hold her for ever. He felt gingerly forward with one foot—and cold fear struck him to the heart.
Now he knew why Jenson had slipped away, and how. In the darkness of the pit, looking down from above, the ledge had seemed fairly wide; as a matter of fact, it jutted straight out from the wall for a scant foot; then the upper part of the stone broke and shelved down on all sides to the under part.
On that foot square of rock it was possible for one person to stand; it was possible for him to stand so long as he could hold the girl's weight in his arms, but there was not foothold for two persons—and he could not hold Sara Helmuth much longer. As it was, his arms were tiring rapidly.
Hammer's face clenched into a grimace of pure agony as the tremendous temptation swept over him—all the more powerful because of his inborn dread of what lay below. The girl was unconscious; she would never know! Was it not more merciful, after all, to give her to death now than to leave her precariously hanging on that foot-square ledge until she wakened, moved, and—dropped?
"Oh, God!" he muttered, Jenson's cry on his lips, and repeated it over and over. How could he save his own worthless life at the expense of hers? A terrible convulsion seized him; he tottered, and only recovered his balance by a miracle. The danger sickened him, but it also woke latent words in his brain.
"—I think it will be one of power, not of failure. I would like to be there——"
He groaned, and it was as if the groan had been wrenched out of his soul, for he knew that his great moment had arrived. And he knew that, despite himself, it would be one of power—nay it was one of power!
Though half of his soul fought against the other half, trying to loose his arms, it was in vain; sophistry was swept aside, and he felt that he must do his utmost, even though it might be useless. He would go to join Jenson, and he must go soon, lest his strength fail.
Feeling about with his feet, he found the last inch of rock that would hold him up, and slowly bent downward. Twice he had to shift his position laboriously because of the wall behind him; once again he tottered, his foot slipped, and only a desperate effort recovered him.
After he had laid the girl across that ledge he could never get upright again without standing on her body—and, harmless though that might have been to her, it never came into his head.
He lowered her to his knees, twisting about, and inch by inch bent downward until she lay across his feet and ankles in safety. Only his grip on her body held him on the ledge now, and the physical torture of his position sent the sweat running down his face in streams.
His will-power all but failed him in that last instant. With infinite pains he drew one foot free, then the other, and went to his knees. But they slipped on the slant of broken rock-face—and, bending swiftly, he touched his lips to hers as he went down.
He seemed to fall for miles and miles through space. From somewhere above came a dull report, and a second; then a shock, and he landed feet first on something soft, and felt great shapes twining around him. He screamed—and fell asleep.
CHAPTER XVIII
"THAHABU!"
"I did, miss."
Who did what? Dull mutters and echoings pierced into Hammer's brain, as if voices that he used to know were whispering in the distance. They swelled and died away and swelled again, reminding him vaguely of the bells he had heard one evening in Venice.
There it was again—there—that was the clear silver of San Giorgio's Campanile, with the deeper tones of Giovanni e Paolo dipping down through the silver, then Santa Maria Formosa dropped in her liquid notes, with, over all, far-flung cadences drifting faintly down on the sea-wind from the Frari until the great dome of the Salute spoke to the sunset, and all the myriad others——
No, it was nothing but Harcourt talking, talking to his mother! That was odd: Harcourt was five miles out at sea, and his mother had been dead for twenty years, he was quite sure.
Ah, he was wrong after all! It was only John Solomon and Sara Helmuth talking together. At that he opened his eyes, caught a faint flicker of light—and remembered.
A violent nausea swept over him, but he conquered it, lying with clenched fists. He recalled what a dying man had once whispered to him aboard the cattle boat—"I wonder what the other place is like?"—and he repeated it over and over in his mind, for it was a good joke.
"I wonder what the other place is like!"
It was his own voice speaking, and he laughed, a dry cackle of a laugh that struck the other voices dead. Where was he?
"I'll lay odds that it's hell——"
Something cool touched his brow and he jerked away sharply, every nerve in his body twinging. Then he realized that the thing was a hand, and heard that queer laughter of his ring out again, though he had not meant to laugh at all.
"Best let 'im be, miss. 'E ought to be waked by now, but 'e'll come up all right-o. Dang it, I don't know as I blames 'im much. It was a mortal bad place."
"Hello, John!" Hammer made a great effort and forced himself to speak. "What are you doing on the other side, as the spiritualists say! Who's that devil got his hand on me? Take him off, darn it!"
The hand was withdrawn, and he heard Solomon chuckle.
"'E's come through, miss, but 'e don't know it. 'Ey, you, Mr. 'Ammer! Sit up and take a werry good look at this 'ere devil 'o yours—beggin' your pardon, miss."
The startled American felt himself pulled to a sitting position, and blinked. The flickering light was from a fire, and he seemed to be sitting on a cot in a tent; also, the tent looked oddly like that of Dr. Krausz's.
That was hardly possible, of course, but John Solomon was standing in front of him and smoking his vile black tobacco, while it was indubitably Sara Helmuth at his side.
"Why—why, what's—where—" he stammered confusedly. Then a cry of mortal agony broke from him. "Good God, don't play with me like this!"
He tried to shut out the vision, his hands over his eyes; as he sank back on the cot he felt other hands on his, pulling them away, and something warm and wet splashed on his face.
"Hammer! Don't, please! It's all right, really! Hammer, dear—oh, John, can't you do something?"
"Ay, miss, if you'll stand aside."
Something struck him, and he heard a cry, then came more blows that knocked him back; furious, he struggled up to see the girl forcing the laughing Solomon back.
"Stop that, John! Don't be cruel——"
"Say, what do you think I am—a punching-bag?"
The angry American leaped up, and instantly Sara Helmuth was holding to his arms, half-laughing, half-crying as she looked up at him. Solomon chuckled.
"I thought as 'ow that'd fetch 'im about, miss! Sit down, sit down, Mr. 'Ammer. It's only John Solomon, a-'itting of you flat-'anded. Sit down, sir."
Hammer obeyed, utterly bewildered, still holding the girl's hands. The hysterical seizure passed and and left him very weak.
"Then I'm not dead, Sara?"
"Not as anybody knows on, sir," returned Solomon cheerfully, and his voice changed suddenly. "Miss, leave us alone for a minute, if you please."
Obediently, the girl rose, and stepped outside the tent, Hammer looking after in terror lest it was all a dream. Solomon came and sat beside him, gripping his hand.
"'Ere, buck up, sir! I'm sorry there ain't a drop o' liquor, but there ain't. Now you brace up ship-shape and proper, Mr. 'Ammer—you 'ear me? Buck up, I say! You ain't 'urt and you ain't dead, and if I punches you one in the eye you'll know it. Beggin' your pardon, sir, but don't be a——"
And there came a flood of low-pitched but biting words that effected their purpose. Hammer forced control over himself with a shudder and gripped back at Solomon's hand.
"'I'm all right, John," he said shakily. "But—but it's hard—to realize. Call Sara, will you?"
She must have been listening, for she was at his side immediately, and when he had her hands in his again it seemed to Hammer that all was right with the world.
"Now tell me about it," he said, his flagging interest reviving before the wonder of it all. "Didn't the—the adders—puff-adders, Krausz said they were——"
"No, sir, they didn't," broke in John. "They didn't, 'cause why, they wasn't nothing of the sort, sir. I dessay the doctor thought as 'ow they was puff-adders, and for the matter o' that so did I till I got down and 'ad a good look at 'em as I was a-slipping of the rope on you——"
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Hammer sharply. "Do you mean to say you went down in there after me? And you thought they were adders——"
"Lud!" And for the first and last time in his life Hammer saw John Solomon blush in the firelight. "Don't take on so, Mr. 'Ammer—you see, the Arabs wouldn't do it, so it was werry plain it 'ad to be done, and——"
The American put out a hand, his voice husky.
"Thank you, John," he said simply. "I—I think you understand."
"Yes, sir. And now if you'll be letting me tell my story, sir—well, it was like this. I got there too late, what wi' losing some o' me men and one thing and another, and the doctor 'e was a-looking down the 'ole, so I knowed where you was. It fair druv me mad for a bit, sir, and I ups and lets drive. Werry sorry I am to say it, but I missed, not 'aving used a gun for a long time.
"'Owsoever, we potted three o' them danged askaris, the fourth bein' me own man, but the doctor's got clean off. It give me quite a turn, Mr. 'Ammer, it did that, when I come to the edge o' that there 'ole and looked down. The two Afghans was after the doctor, and the Arabs wouldn't go down, so I 'ad to.
"We got the missus up first-off, but when I went down again for you, sir, it near give me the jumps to see you a laying across Jenson's body——"
"What!" broke in Hammer. "Jenson dead? I thought you said they weren't——"
"So I did, sir; so I did; and quite right they weren't. Near as we could figure it out, sir, Jenson died o' fright, and a good job, I says. So we got you up, and wi' that I went for the doctor and druv him clean into the jungle, I was that worked up. Werry sorry I am to say it, but where 'e is I don't know, and what's more, I don't care. We made a good job o' them askaris, though, and took two o' them Dutchmen alive. So there you be, Mr. 'Ammer, all ship-shape and proper." Silence settled inside the tent, broken only by the choking bubble of Solomon's ancient pipe. Hammer realized that it had all taken place that afternoon, and this was evening; but the snakes were not deadly after all——
"I made a blessed fool of myself, then!" He looked up and caught his words, wondering if they knew, by any chance. Well, since the girl had been unconscious and Jenson dead, they didn't. "However, no matter about——"
"Yes, Hammer, it does matter." Sara spoke gravely, her eyes glistening. "You see, after we brought you here you were out of your head, like you were back there at the plantation, and you went over and over that horrible scene—oh, Hammer dear!" There was a catch in her voice. "Didn't—didn't I tell you once upon a time that when the great moment came——"
"Don't, Sara!" begged Hammer earnestly, trying to smile and failing dismally. "Yes, you were right, and it doesn't matter whether I made a fool of myself or not. I——"
"Beggin' your pardon, sir and miss," broke in Solomon hastily, as he rose, "I'd better see as them Arabs put out a guard in case——"
But neither of them heard him, for they were looking into each other's eyes, and Hammer suddenly found that words would not come to him.
"Sara, I—I'm afraid—I love you."
He dared not move, for he had blurted the words out before he thought, and now fear nestled in his heart. Then a soft hand touched the red whip-wale on his cheek, and——
"Hammer, dear, I—I'm glad, I love you!"
But, as John Solomon remarked to the Southern Cross—having forgotten what he went out to do—"Dang it! 'Uman nature is 'uman nature, I says. If so be as a man 'as a 'eart like gold there ain't no woman too good for 'im, as the old gent said to the actress lady."