The Web of the Golden Spider

by Frederick Orin Bartlett

  CHAPTER XXVI

  _A Lucky Bad Shot_

  As soon as they recovered sufficient strength to desire anything moreof life than rest for their bruised and weary bodies, Wilson assumedcommand of the situation. He saw nothing but a straight path to thegirl.

  "We must get down to the lake," he said firmly. "Get down there andfind Sorez. If the natives are up in arms, I want to be near the girl.I'm going to take her out of here. If the others refuse to join us,we'll take her alone and make a dash for it."

  "We oughter get our provisions first," suggested Stubbs.

  "No--what strength we have left is for her."

  "We'll have twice as much with grub."

  "And we'll have less time."

  Wilson's jaw was set. To go down the mountain and back would take atleast four hours and leave them even nearer dead than they were atpresent. Aside from that, the desire to see the girl had become anobsession. He was no longer amenable to reason. He felt the power todominate. In the last two days he had learned that there are at leasttwo essential things in life--two things a man has a right to takewhere he finds them--love and water. The two lay at his feet now andhe would wait no longer. His heart burned with as hot a thirst as histhroat. Neither Sorez nor gold nor all the brown men in the universeshould balk him of them longer.

  Leaning forward he gripped the arm of his comrade with a strength thelatter had not thought within him.

  "Old man," he said with a new ring in his voice, "you must follow methe rest of this journey. I've got down to one thing now--just onething. I'm going to find this girl--I'm going to take her into thesetwo arms--and I'm going to carry her out of here and never let her go.Do you understand? And there isn't gold enough, nor men enough, norheathen images enough in the world to stop me now. We're going back,Stubbs--the girl and I--we're going back, and God help those who getin our way."

  At first Stubbs thought this was the fever, but as he looked at thetense face, the locked jaw, the burning eyes, he saw it was only a manin earnest. Some spark within his own breast warmed to life beforethis passion. He put out his hand.

  "An' I signs with you right here."

  "I've turned aside for things all I'm going to," ran on Wilson,excitedly. "Now I'm going over them. I'm going straight--I'm goinghard--and I'm not going to turn my back on her again for a second. Doyou understand, Stubbs? She's mine and I'm going to take her."

  "You won't have to take her, if you feel that way," answered Stubbs.

  "What d' you mean?"

  "She'll go, boy--she'll go through Hell with you with thet look inyour eyes."

  "Then come on," shouted Wilson, with quite unnecessary fierceness."I'm going to pull out of this heathen web."

  The two men rose to their tired feet, every muscle protesting, andbefore dark Stubbs learned how little the body counts, how littleanything counts, before the will of a man who has focused the might ofhis soul upon a single thing. They moved down ever towards the bluelake which blinked back at the sun like a blue-eyed babe. Their riflespressed upon their shoulders like bars of lead; their heavy feet werenumb; their eyes bulged from their heads with the strain of keepingthem open. Of the long, bitter struggle, it is enough to say that itwas a sheer victory over the impossible. Each mile was a blank, yetthey pressed forward, Wilson ever in the lead, Stubbs ever ploddingbehind. It was almost as though they were automatons galvanized bysome higher intelligence, for their own had become numbed save to thenecessity of still dragging their feet ahead. In this way they reachedthe shores of the lake; in this way they circled it; in this way theyneared the hut of Flores. Stumbling along the trail, guided by someinstinct, Wilson raised his head at the sight of two figures sittingin the sun by the door of the hut; one was the girl, he saw thatclearly enough, for to his own vision it was as the sun breakingthrough low-hanging clouds; but the other--he motioned Stubbs to halt.The two had made no noise, coming up through the undergrowth from thelake, and were now able to conceal themselves partly behind a sort ofhigh bush. Had those in the hut been alert, the two could not haveescaped detection, but so intent they seemed upon their conversationthat a dozen men might have approached. Wilson tried to controlhimself; he wished to make sure. Steadying himself by a grip upon theshoulder of Stubbs, he looked again. Then bending close to hiscomrade's ear, he asked him--waiting without drawing breath forreply,--

  "Who is it?"

  The answer came charged with bitterness,

  "The Priest!"

  Wilson lowered his rifle. The Priest was sitting some two feet fromthe girl, against the hut, his head thrown back as though he weretrying hard to think. Wilson was a good shot; he had as a boy amusedhimself by the hour with his small, twenty-two caliber rifle. At thismoment, however, his sight was none of the best and his hand anythingbut steady. Stubbs signaled him to let him try the shot, but Wilsonwould not trust him. He had no doubt but that the Priest had killedSorez and was now holding the girl a prisoner, perhaps evenanticipating her death. It was his duty, his privilege, to set herfree. He fitted the stock of the weapon into his armpit, and raisedthe barrel. His hand was weak; the gun trembled so that he dared notshoot. Stubbs saw this and, stepping in front of him, motioned him torest the barrel on his shoulder. With this support he found his aimsteadier. He purposely gave a bit of a margin to the right, so that incase of any deflection the error would be away from the girl. Hepulled the trigger.

  When the wisp of smoke cleared away, Wilson saw that both figures wereupon their feet--the girl in the arms of the priest who held her closeto him as though to protect her. Their eyes were upon him. The girlstared in terror, then in surprise, and now, struggling free, stood asthough looking at an apparition.

  Wilson understood nothing of this. His brain was now too slow workingto master fresh details. He still grasped nothing but the fact thatthe girl was there and by her side the man who had proved himself amortal enemy. He raised his weapon once more.

  With a scream the girl ran straight ahead towards him, in line withthe astonished man by the hut. As she ran she called,

  "David! David! David!"

  He heard the call and, dropping the rifle, staggered towards her. Heheld out his arms to her and she checked her steps, studying his eyesas though to make sure he was sane. He stood motionless but there wasa prayer in his silent lips, in his eyes, in his outstretched arms.She took another little step towards him, then, without furtherhesitation, came to his side and placed her head upon his shoulder. Hefolded his arms over her heaving shoulders--he rested his cheek uponher black hair--he whispered her name again and again.

  So they stood, Stubbs and the Priest both staring at them as at thecentral figures upon the stage, until she raised her head to look oncemore into his eyes. He saw her lips within a few inches of his own,but he dared not kiss them yet. It was odd--he had never in his lifespoken an audible word of love to her--had never written of love toher--and yet he knew that she knew all that had been unsaid, even ashe did. There had never been need of words with them. Love had beendeveloped in the consciousness of each in silence and in loneliness,but had moved to this climax as surely and as inevitably as thoughforeordained. He had but to look down into her eyes now and all wassaid; she had but to look into his, even deadened as they were byfatigue, to read all her heart craved. Her breath came in littlegasps.

  "David--David, you have come for me again!"

  "For the last time," he answered.

  "You are never going to let me go again, are you, David?"

  "Never," he answered fiercely.

  "Ah! hold me tight, David."

  He drew her more firmly to him.

  "Tighter! Tighter!" she whispered.

  He crushed her against his pounding heart. He ached with the joy ofit. But with the relief from the heavy burden of fear which had for solong weighed him down, nature asserted herself and forced down hisleaden eyelids. She felt him sinking in her arms and freed herself.With her hands upon his shoulders she drew back and looked hungrily athim. His sandy hair was tangled and
frowsy, his eyes shot with tinythreads of red, his cheeks bronzed and covered with a shaggy lightbeard. His clothes were tattered, and about his waist there dangled acircle of leather bags. He was an odd enough looking figure. By somestrange chance she had never seen him in other than some uncouth garb;drenched with rain, draped in an Oriental lounging robe, with acartridge belt about his waist, and covered with sweat and powdergrime, and now in this.

  Both were brought back to the world about them by a shot from Stubbs.He had fired at the Priest and missed. It was as though the man led acharmed life. The girl raised her hand as Stubbs was about to fireagain.

  "Don't! Don't! You are making a terrible mistake. This isn't thePriest--he is my father."

  The phrase awoke even the sleeping sense of these men.

  "Your father!" exclaimed Wilson.

  But the man was coming towards them--steadily, and yet as if in a sortof daze.

  "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

  The eyes, the high cheek-bones, the thin lips, were those of thePriest, but the voice was different. It had lost something of itsharshness--something, too, of its decisiveness. The girl interrupted,

  "This is no time for explanations. Come into the hut. We must restfirst."

  She led the way, keeping a tight grip upon Wilson's arm, steadyinghim. Stubbs and he whom they had known as the Priest followed.

  Within the hut Flores and his wife, still bewildered by the suddenconversion of the Priest from an enemy to a friend (understandingnothing of what had happened), crouched far into the rear overcomewith genuine awe and reverence for the guardian of their god in hisnew character. Threats had driven them to rebellion while kindlinessnow made of them abject slaves. They stood ready to obey his slightestwish--not with cravenness, but with quick reversion to the faith oftheir ancestors. But he acted as though he did not see them--asthough, in fact, he saw nothing of anything about him save the girl.He followed her with his eyes with almost childlike eagerness andgreeted a glance from her with almost pathetic joy. He spoke little,apparently finding difficulty in expressing himself--in forming hisscattered thoughts into correct sentences. His whole appearance wasthat of a man freed after a long imprisonment. The only thing of hispresent surroundings which he now grasped perfectly was hisrelationship with the girl. He was reviving old-time joys in hisdaughter.

  But Jo herself, even in the freshness of her happiness over theunexpected success of her long journey, had found an even greaterinterest in this newer passion. She spread a blanket for Wilson in acorner of the hut and forced him to lie down here and give himself upto sleep. Stubbs sank to the ground in the sun where he stood outsideand fell into a stupor.

  Hour after hour the girl sat at Wilson's side as though guarding hisrest, and in this gentle task she found a new conception of happiness.Near her, during the long vigil, sat her father, while in and out,softly as two shadows, moved Flores and his wife.

  Wilson awoke long before Stubbs and insisted upon getting up. Therewere many things to be learned and many things to be done. He realizedthat they were still in the heart of a hostile country and that ifthey were to get out safely, time could not be wasted in sleep. Whatpart this man whom he still thought of as the Priest would play, hehad no idea.

  The girl told him as much of the odd story as she had gathered,beginning with her own arrival in the hut. Manning's memory dated fromthe blow on the raft. Back of this he skipped an interval of fifteenyears. Even there his memory was cloudy. He recalled vaguely havingjoined an expedition which had for its object prospecting in thesemountains, but who the others of the party were he did not know. Heremembered hazily the trip over the mountains and a battle with aparty of natives. He was injured and after this was sick a longwhile. As far as he was concerned he had been unconscious ever sincethat time. Of his recovery, of the strange sequence of events whichcaused him to take up a life among the Chibcas, who elevated himfinally into the position of high priest, of the fanatical devotion tohis trust which had driven him across the continent and then across anocean to recover the image, he recalled nothing. He did not know ofthe existence of an idol or of any superstition in connection withit.

  Wilson, listening, marveled, but he quickly associated this withsimilar cases of dual identity brought about by brain troublefollowing an accident to the skull. The psychology of the case,however, did not at present so much interest him as the possibleconsequences to them all which might follow this denouement. Itinstantly occurred to him that it was doubtful if Manning in hispresent condition was anything but an added menace to the party. Ahalf hour's questioning convinced Wilson that it was literally truethat the last fifteen years were a blank to the man and that hismental condition at present was scarcely superior to that of a child.Consequently, in the event of an attack by the aroused natives eitherManning would be thought to have been captured by the party, whichwould bring down swift vengeance, or he would be thought to havedeserted them, which was equally sure to bring about the annihilationof them all. The only thing to do seemed to be to keep the man out ofsight as much as possible on the journey and in the event of troubleto hide him altogether. It seemed to him wisest not to allow them torest even that night but to push on. Flores, eager to do anything forthe Priest, agreed to guide them. He aroused Stubbs, and after a goodmeal the party started and without incident made eight miles beforethey stopped.

  They found a good camping place--a sort of crude cave near a brook andjust off the trail. They built a fire and cooked a portion of the legof mutton which Flores had brought for them before returning. So farthey had not caught a glimpse of a native. This fact and theexcitement of actually being upon the home path banished themcompletely from their minds. But that night both men agreed that eachhad better take his turn at watching.

  "I'll take the first watch," insisted Wilson to Stubbs. "I wouldn'ttrust you to wake me up."

  With a good-natured grin Stubbs submitted and threw his tired body onthe turf, making a pillow of the bags of jewels. He slept as heartilyas though snug in the bunk of a safe ship. But both the girl and herfather refused to take Wilson's advice and do likewise. Both insistedupon sharing his watch with him. The father sat on the other side ofhis daughter staring, as though still wondering, into the shadows ofthe silent wood kingdom about him. He spoke but little and seemed tobe still trying to clear his thoughts.

  At their backs rose the towering summits which still stood betweenthem and the ocean; above those the stars which from the first hadseemed to watch their lives; before them the heavy, silent shadowswhich bade them be ever alert.

  Wilson sat upright with his rifle over his knees. The girl nestledagainst his shoulder. All was well with the world.