The Sign of the Spider

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  THE HORROR.

  Vampire--insect--devil--what _was_ the thing? From the length andthickness of those frightful tentacle-like legs, stretching forth fromthe cranny--Laurence--who had not halted until he had gained the ridgedividing the hollow--estimated that the creature when spread out must beeight or ten feet in diameter.

  He looked back. It had not followed him from the cave. Why had it not?Was it waiting for night--to steal upon him in the darkness, to wreatharound him those terrible tentacles, and to drain his life-blood?

  Now, indeed, all stood clear. "The Spider" was no allegorical term, butliteral fact. That frightful monster with which he had just come face toface was indeed the demon-god of the Ba-gcatya! It was actually fed withliving men, in accordance with some dark and mysterious superstitionheld by that otherwise fine race. Now the fate of those whose skeletonslay around stood accounted for. They had been devoured by thisunimaginable horror. Alive? It was almost certain--possibly whenweakened by starvation. Yet a gruesome thought entered his mind. Why hadan abundance of food been lowered with him into this hell-pit? Did notthe circumstance make as though it was in their full vigour that themonster was designed to seize its victims--and in that event, with whatan extent of strength and fell ferocity must it not be endowed?

  But what _was_ this thing? Laurence had seen spiders of every variety,huge and venomous, and of grisly size, yet nothing like this. Why, thecreature was as large as a bear nearly! It must be some beast hithertounknown to natural history; yet those awful tentacles--joints, hair,everything--could not but belong to an insect--were, in fact, preciselyas the legs of a huge tarantula, magnified five hundred-fold. Whatghastly and blood-curdling freak of nature could have produced such amonstrosity as this? Why, the very sight of the awful thing huddled up,black, within the gloom of the cranny, the horrid tentacles--ahundred-fold more repulsive, more blood-curdling than though theyactually were so many serpents--moving and writhing in a greatquivering, hairy, intertwined mass--was in itself a sight to haunt hisdreams until his dying day, did he live another fifty years. What mustit mean, then, to realize that he was actually shut in--escapeimpossible--with the deliberate purpose of being devoured by thisvampire, this demon, even as all these others had been devoured beforehim?

  At this juncture of his meditations his mind became alive to twodiscoveries--one, that he had gained the farther end of the ridge thanthat by which he had crossed; the other, that immediately before andbeneath him, just over the slope of the ridge, lay the body of a man.

  Yes--the body of a man, not the skeleton of one. That it was that of adead man he could see at a glance--also that it was one of theBa-gcatya. With a shudder he remembered the luckless wretch he had seendragged away but a day or two before his own seizure--whether forevil-doing or as a customary sacrifice he had been condemned to this,Laurence had not inquired at the time. Casting one more look at thecave, and satisfying himself that the monster had not emerged, Laurencewent down to examine the body.

  It was that of a man in the prime of life--and wearing the head-ring. Itwas lying on its back, the throat upturned and protruding. And thenLaurence shudderingly noticed two round gaping orifices at the base ofthe throat, clearly where the great nippers of the monster hadpunctured. The limbs, too, were scratched and scored as though withclaws; and upon the dead face was such an awful expression of the veryextremity of horror and dread as the spectator, accustomed as he was tosuch sights, had never beheld stamped on the human countenance before.And beholding it now, Laurence Stanninghame felt that the perspirationwas oozing upon him at every pore, for he realized that he was lookingupon a foresight of his own fate; for was he not that most perfectly andcompletely helpless of all God's creatures--an unarmed man!

  He had not so much as a stick or a pocket-knife to resist the onslaughtof this blood-drinking monster--no, not even a boot, for it flashedacross his mind at that moment that a good iron-shod heel might bebetter than nothing. He was wearing only a low-soled pair of ordinary_velschoenen_--hide shoes, to wit. There were not even stones lyingabout the ground, save very small ones, and he had no means of looseningrock slabs large enough to serve as weapons. There was no place ofrefuge to climb into afforded by ledges or pinnacles of rock, and evenwere there, why, the thing could surely come up after him as easily asthe common tarantula could run up a wall. Nothing is more completelydemoralizing than the helplessness of an unarmed man. With hisExpress--or his six-shooter--this one would have regarded the situationin the light of a wholly new and adventurous excitement--with even alarge strong-bladed knife he would have been willing to take hischances. But he was totally unarmed. It seemed to Laurence that in thatbrief while he had lived a lifetime of mortal fear.

  Then with a mighty effort he pulled himself together. He would return towhere he had left his stores ere commencing the exploration. Nobody everyet improved a situation of peril by starving himself. Yet as he wendedhis way up the long chasm wherein he had first awakened to life, it waswith a feeling of shuddering repulsion. The place bore such a closeresemblance now to that other cave; yet here, at any rate, he knew therewas nothing.

  He opened the corn baskets and the calabash of _amasi_, and made afairly good meal. Then, by the glooming shades of the overhanging rock,he judged that daylight was waning. Out into the open once more--theopen air might render such a life-and-death struggle with the monster atrifle less horrible than here, shut in by these tomb-like rock walls.

  The gray of the brief twilight was upon the faces of the surroundingcliffs, which soon faded into misty gloom. Only the stars, leaping intothe misty gloom--only the stars, leaping forth into the inky sky, shedan indistinct light into this vault of horror and of death. He was shutin here--and shut in with this awful thing which should find him outduring the hours of darkness. And, marvellous to tell, a suddendrowsiness came upon him--and whether the effects of the drug stilllingered about him, or was it the reaction from an overstrained mind? heactually slept--slept hard and dreamlessly.

  Suddenly he awoke--awoke with the weight of an indefinable terror uponhim. A broad moon in its third quarter was sailing aloft in the heavens,flooding the hollow with its ghostly light. Instinctively he sprang tohis feet. As he did so there came upon him a resistless and shudderingfear akin to that which had paralyzed him in the cave. What was it? Themagnetic proximity of the awful thing stealthily stalking him? No. Thereason now lay clear.

  In the moonlight he could make out, shadowy and indistinct, the corpsehe had found during the afternoon. But, as he gazed, a change seemed tohave come over it. It had increased in size--had more than doubled itsbulk. Heavens! the dark mass began to move--to heave--and then hethought the very acme of horror was reached. Not one body was there, buttwo. Spread out over the human body was that of the monster. Now hecould make out almost every detail of its hideous shape, the convulsiveworking of the frightful tentacles as it devoured its lifeless prey. Hecould stand it no longer. His brain was bursting; he must do something.Raising his voice he shouted--shouted as assuredly he had never shoutedin his life. There was a maniacal ring in his voice. He felt as thoughhe must rush right at this thing of fear. Was he really going mad? Well,it began to look like it.

  But the effect was prompt. The awful vampire, gathering its horriblelegs under it, sprang clear of the carcass. It stood for a moment inrigid immobility, then ere the maniacal echoes of that shout hadquavered into silence among the cliffs, it shoggled over the ridge andwas lost to view.

  The night wore through somehow, and if ever mortal eyes were rejoiced bythe light of dawn, assuredly they were those of Laurence Stanninghame,as once more he found himself the sole living tenant of that ghastlyplace of death. Yet, to what end? One more dreary day in his rockprison, another night of horror--and--the same brooding fate awaiting!He could not remain awake forever. Even though the sound of his voicethus unexpectedly lifted up had alarmed the vampire, it would not alwaysdo so. Still, with the light of the new-born day after the night ofterror came some me
dium of relief.

  Once more he drew upon his provision stores. While repacking them hisgaze rested on the native blanket with the wild idea of manufacturingtherefrom a cord. But to do this he needed a knife. The stuff was ofmaterial too stout for tearing.

  A knife! Ha! With the thought came another. It was not worth much, butit was something,--and with that came a hard, fierce, desperate hope.The broad gold bracelet which still encircled Lutali's skeletonwrist--could not that be banged and flattened into something sharp andserviceable? It was hard metal, anyway.

  Still the grim horror lurked within its cave--still it came not forth.It was waiting until another night should embolden it to seize itsdefenceless human prey. He glanced upwards. There were still from two tothree hours of daylight. In a very few moments he had reached theskeleton of the Arab, and, snapping off the bony wrist withouthesitation, the bracelet was within his grasp.

  But as he looked around for some means of flattening it, there flashedin upon him another idea--a perfectly heaven-sent idea, grisly underordinary circumstances, as it might be. The bracelet was large andmassive, and for it a new use suggested itself. Critically examining theskeletons, he selected two with the largest and strongest leg-bones.These he soon wrenched off, and, running one through the gold bracelet,he jammed the latter fast against the thicker end--binding it as tightlyas he could to the bulging joint with a strip torn from his clothing.With a thrill of unutterable joy he realized that he was no longerunarmed. He had manufactured a tolerably effective mace. He swung itthrough the air two or three times with all his force. Such a blow wouldstrike a human enemy dead;--was this thing so heavily armour-plated asto be proof against a similar stroke?

  With one idea came another. These bones might be further utilized, theymight be splintered and sharpened into daggers. No sooner thought ofthan carried out. And now the skeletons underwent the most ruthlessdesecration. Several were wrenched asunder ere he had selected half adozen of the most serviceable--and these he hammered to the requiredsize with his newly constructed mace--sharpening them on the rough faceof the rock. And then, as with a glow of satisfaction he sat down torest and contemplate his handiwork--he almost laughed over the grimwhimsicality of it. Did ever mortal man go into close conflict armed insuch fashion--he wondered--with club and dagger manufactured out of thebones of men?

  Should he take the bull by the horns, and advance boldly to attack themonster in its own den? He shrank from this. The gloom of the caverninvested the thing with an additional element of terror, besides themore practical consideration that a confined space might hinder him inthe use of his _bizarre_ and impromptu weapons. He would need all thefreedom of hand and eye. Once more he took out the metal box, and fedhis eyes long and earnestly upon its contents. The Sign of the Spider!Was there indeed an influence about this trinket--or rather, the lovewhich had hallowed it--which was potent to stand between him and perilin the direst extremity, even as it had stepped between him and certaindeath at the spears of the victorious Ba-gcatya? Slightly improved aswas his helpless condition, yet he could not hope. Even if he succeededin slaying the monster, how should he escape from this death-trap, thisrock-prison? The second day closed.

  How many hours of darkness should precede moonrise he could but feeblyguess. Grasping his strangely fashioned club in his right hand, and thestrongest and sharpest of his bone daggers in the left--he stood, hisback to the rock wall, so as not to be taken in the rear; never relaxingfor a moment in vigilance, his ears strained to their utmost tension,his eyeballs striving to pierce the black gloom. More than once a soundas of stealthy, ghostly scrapings caused his heart to beat like ahammer; and he seemed to see the horrible eyes of the monster flamingluridly out of the darkness; but still the silent hours went by,unbroken by any disturbance.

  Ha! The gloom of the hollow was lightening--and soon the rim of thegreat moon peeped over the cliff behind him. But his attention wasrivetted now upon something before him--a something, huge and black andshadowy--which moved. The horror was coming over the ridge.

  It came,--running stealthily a few yards,--then halting,--then runningagain. It passed the body of its last victim, and came running on.Laurence stood transfixed, spellbound, with loathing and repulsion, ashe gazed upon the huge hairy legs, listening to the scraping patter ofthe claw-armed extremities. But he had no doubt now as to itsintentions; it was coming straight for him.

  It stopped--within a bare forty yards, and now as for the first time, hegot a clear view of it in the bright moonlight, Laurence felt his heartfail him for the very hideousness of the beast. It had the head of adevil, the body and legs of a spider, and the black hairy coat of abear; and, indeed, it was nearly as large as a fair-sized specimen ofthe latter. No, it was no ordinary thing, this fearsome monster.

  It advanced a little nearer,--stopped again,--then rushed straight athim.

  Laurence stepped aside just in time to avoid the open jaws, but too lateentirely to escape the great flail-like tentacle, which swept him fromhis feet, right under the horror, pinioning for a moment his arms. Then,by a tremendous effort, he threw himself partly upwards. The horriblenippers descended--but missing his throat--descended to his chest, andmet there, with a metallic, crunching sound.

  Yet he was unharmed. Even in that unspeakably awful moment--crushed inthe wreathings of the huge tentacles--the frightful head and devilisheyes of the vampire within two feet of his own--he realized what hadhappened. Instead of penetrating his body, the nippers of the monsterhad struck upon the metal box. The thought nerved him. Wrenching his armpartly free beneath the horror, he sought a joint in the horny armour,and drove the bone dagger into its body--drove it into the very butt.

  Throwing up its head convulsively, the fearful creature began to spinround and round, and its would-be victim realized somewhat of itsenormous muscular strength, for wiry and in hard training as he was, hewas dragged with it, rolled over and over in the wreathings of theblack, hairy tentacles. Was he being dragged off to its den? The veryterror of the thought nerved him once more--revived his fast-failingstrength. Drawing forth another of his bone daggers, he plunged it, too,deep into the body of the beast.

  For a moment the sinewy, struggling tentacles relaxed, and just thatmoment the man was able to seize, or he had been lost. With a violenteffort he flung himself free, and, having once more gained hisfeet,--his breath coming in hard, panting gasps,--stood awaiting thenext attack.

  Thus they stood, a strange group indeed, in the brilliant moonlight: Theman, his rudely constructed mace uplifted, his head bent forward, alurid glow in his eyes--the glow of the fell fury of desperation; thehideous spider-devil--swaying itself on its horrible tentacles as thoughfor another spring upon its intended victim. Ha! it was coming!

  The man stood ready, a tightening of the muscles of the arm that heldthe club, a lowering of the brows. On the part of the demon, a spasmodiccontraction. Again it came at him.

  Half rearing itself from the ground, its feelers waving in the air on alevel with his face, propelling itself slowly forward, as though to makesure of its final rush, emitting the while a kind of soft breathinghiss. The aspect of the creature was so truly fearful, that the man,gazing upon it, was conscious of a kind of blasting influence stealingover him, beginning to paralyze nerve and effort alike--a feeling thatit was useless to continue the struggle. The metal box could not savehim twice. Yet, through all, was the certainty that to lose nerve forone moment was to lose life.

  His will-power triumphed. He knew that did he once again get within gripof those ghastly tentacles he would never emerge alive. He swung up hisimprovised mace; the creature was now within twelve yards of him. Hehurled the club; with terrific force it cleft the air, the massive bandof gold which constituted its head lighting full upon one of the demon'seyes. For one moment the horror contracted into a heaving, writhingheap, frightful to behold, then, throwing out its grisly tentacles, itspun round and round as it had done before. The man's heart was beatingas though it would burst. Was the thing slain, or
in its vampiretenacity of life would it renew the combat? Ha!--was it coming again?Was it? One moment of the most unutterable suspense, and then--andthen--the fearful thing drew back, turned round, and shoggled away inthe direction whence it had come. It was worsted.

  Save for a few scratches, Laurence was unhurt. He had almostmiraculously escaped the creature's nippers. Yet now that he had won hishard-fought victory, a sort of rage took possession of him, an impulseto follow it up, to destroy this fell horror utterly. Growling a savagecurse, he started in pursuit of the retreating monster, but hardly hadhe taken two steps forward than there floated to his ear a sound--avoice which seemed to fall from the sky itself. He stopped short in histracks and stood immovable, statuesque, listening.