The Sign of the Spider

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  "ONLY A SAVAGE!"

  "Nyonyoba!"

  Clear, distinct, the name sounded, floating down from above.

  "What the devil is that?" was the characteristic exclamation that burstfrom Laurence--and there was something of a quaver in the tone. For hisnerves were quite overstrung, and no manifestation of things unknownwould have surprised him now.

  "Nyonyoba! Ho, Nyonyoba!" again called the voice in soft, rich Zulutones, low but penetrating. "Move now some thirty paces to where thecliff juts. There is that by which you may return to earth again--andthe Spider may go hungry."

  "The Spider has got enough to fill him up for some long time," answeredLaurence, with excusable pride. "But who speaks?--The voice is like thatof Lindela."

  "It is that of Lindela," came the soft-toned reply. "Climb now, andtarry not. I see the Spider. Climb before it is too late."

  With all his elation, now that the first flush of victory was over,Laurence could not recall without a shiver the grasp of those horribletentacles, the fiend-like glare of that dreadful face. He vastlypreferred flight to renewed fight, now.

  Following the voice, he came to the point indicated. A rope of twistedraw-hide thong lay against the rock. His heart leaped within him. Soonhe would be free from this fearful place. The cliff here formed aprojecting angle, all jagged like the teeth of a saw. He rememberednoticing this, remembered balancing its capabilities of forming anatural ladder. He had even climbed a few steps, and then had beenforced to own that it was impracticable. Now, however, with the aid ofthe raw-hide rope, the thing could be done--done with comparative ease.

  As a preliminary he stepped back, and, gazing upwards, went over theclimb in his mind, carefully noting every step, every handhold. Thecliff was terrace here, and the nearest resting-place, whence, indeed,the rope hung, he estimated to be about sixty feet. Without this aid,however, it might as well have been sixty hundred.

  Seizing the rope he began his ascent, the mace and the remainder of hisbone daggers still slung around him. The task was more difficult than itlooked. Contact, often sudden and violent, with the rock face bruisedhis knuckles, inflicting excruciating pain, once indeed so as to turnhim sick and faint. But a glance down into the grisly hollow, as he hungthus suspended by a thread--the glint of the white skeletons in themoonlight, and, above all, the vague, shadowy outline, black andfrightful, of the horror, which still lingered outside its den, asthough meditating return--nerved him once more. What if he were to fall,maimed, battered, helpless--would not the frightful thing hold himentirely at its mercy, and return and drain his life-blood at itspleasure? Summoning all his will-power, all his strength, he resumed hisclimb, and soon a firm, resolute hand, grasping his, drew him up for thetime being into safety; for they were on a ledge.

  "Rest now, beloved," said the chief's daughter softly, as she turned todraw up the rope. "I have saved thee so far."

  "But--to what end, Lindela? Did you not fling a stick at me, and strikeme hard? See, I am bruised with it yet. It has even hindered my climbingpowers. That is a strange way of showing love."

  "But is this a stranger way?" said the girl sadly, displaying the ropeshe had just drawn up. "See now. They suspected me, as it was. Had I notshown myself the first and the fiercest to turn against you, should Ihave been here now? But come, we are not yet in safety. When we are itwill be time enough for talk, and for--love."

  She led the way to a steep, narrow cranny. Up this they climbed somefifty feet without difficulty, emerging upon another terrace. Hereanother rope hung from the cliff above, about the same height.

  "Go first, Nyonyoba, while I hold the rope to steady it," said the girl."Then, too, if your strength should give way, perhaps I may catch youand break your fall. I am as strong as any of the women of theBa-gcatya--and that is saying much."

  For answer, Laurence uttered a derisive laugh. But there must have beenthat in its tone which pleased the chief's daughter, for she repeatedthe request, more softly, more entreatingly.

  "See now, Lindela," he answered, placing a hand on each of the shapelyshoulders, which glistened light bronze in the moonlight. "You don'tknow me yet if you think I will leave the post of danger to you. Obey meinstantly. Go first up that rope, or I return and do combat once morewith the Spider."

  "Once more? Have you then--actually fought with that--with that which isdown there?" And her eyes were round with amazement.

  "I have, and the thing has two of these sticking in it to their fulllength," showing the bone daggers. "I have a recollection, too, ofsmiting hard with this noble knob-stick, but it was like smiting thehardest kind of tortoise shell. Not yet, however, is the time to talk.Go first, Lindela--go first."

  She obeyed him now without further demur, and soon he had joined her,for this climb was neither so long nor so difficult as the first.

  Laurence now saw that they were high up on a mountain top. Great peaks,some snow-capped, towered aloft--and far away beneath stretched abillowy expanse of country, dim, misty in the moonlight. The air waskeen and chill, and with something of a shiver Lindela resumed her lightupper covering, which she had laid aside in order to give full freedomto body and limbs.

  "And you have met and fought with that," she began, pointing downwards,"and are still alive? Why, Nyonyoba, you have done that which no man hasever done before. How did you do it? With the bones of dead men? Ha! youare indeed great, Nyonyoba, great indeed. Yet--what a thought!"

  "A good thought truly. Still, had it occurred to those who went beforeme they might have done the same. Yet not--for there was another forcethat saved me which they lacked."

  "Ha! another force?"

  "Yes, the Sign of the Spider. The Spider itself was powerless againstthat."

  He drew forth the metal box, and for the first time examined it. By thelight of the moon he could discern two slight dents; one upon the borderof the quaint sprawling initials, where the nippers of the monster hadstruck. For the moment he forgot Lindela, forgot the surroundings,forgot where he was, remembering only Lilith. Three times had Lilith'slove interposed between him and certain death--three times mostunequivocally. And this third time, from what unutterably horrible formof death! Those poisoned fangs. The very thought made him shudder.

  "You are cold, beloved. See, here are coverings. I have thought ofeverything."

  The voice, the touch upon his arm, recalled him to himself. If the loveof the one woman had stood between him and death--no less had that ofthe other borne its part. And this other now stood before him,soft-eyed, pleading; grand in her statuesque and perfect proportions, inher splendid strength and courage--that strength and courage which hadnerved her to set aside the most awesome traditions of her race, tobrave its gloomy superstitions, to venture alone and unaided into thehaunt of mysterious terror, for love of this stranger and alien. This,too, was the sublimity of love in all of its indomitablequenchlessness. And she who gave so freely, who gave all, indeed, ofthis rich, this inestimable gift was--only a savage!

  Only a savage! It is probable that some of the most golden-lined,well-nigh divine phases of mind that ever had dawned upon him in hislife were shed over Laurence Stanninghame then, as he stood upon thatlofty mountain top at midnight in the flooding light of the moon, hisgaze meeting the sweet responsive one from the wide opened eyes ofthis--savage.

  "Say, Nyonyoba!" and the voice was full and rich,--"say, Nyonyoba, whatwill you give me if I show you that which will delight your eyes? Willyou love me very much--very much?" and the soft musical Zulu word_Ka-kulu_ thus repeated was as a caress in itself. "Well then, come."

  She led the way a few yards, then halted. A bundle lay upon the ground,and this Lindela proceeded to undo. It consisted of a couple of strongnative blankets, inclosing several round baskets of woven grass similarto those which had contained the food which had been let down in cruelmercy into the place of the horror by the mysterious hands which hadlowered himself. But that upon which Laurence's eyes rested, upon whichhe almost pounced, w
as a short carbine and a well-stockedcartridge-belt. It was a vastly inferior weapon to his own trusty"Express," but still it was a firearm.

  "That is not all," cried the girl, laughing gleefully. "See this."

  She thrust another bundle into his hands. Almost trembling he openedit. A revolver--his own; also another of smaller calibre. And with bothwas a quantity of ammunition. As he seized these, he realized that hewould have given half his diamonds, up till then well-nigh forgotten,for just such an armoury. Now he felt equal to anything, to anybody. Hewas once more the dominant animal, an armed man--nay, more--a well-armedman.

  "Ha!--now you are once more as you ought to be," cried Lindela,gleefully clapping her hands together. "You who are stronger than--thatwhich is down there," falling into the Zulu custom of refrainingdirectly to mention that which is held in awe. "Without weapons. Whatare you now with them? Great--great! To defeat the Spider--armed onlywith the bones of men. _Whau!_ That was great indeed--magnificent!"

  "Yet I think I will silence forever that horror," said Laurence,stepping to the brink of the cliff and peering down into the awfulhollow. "Yes, there the beast is; I will risk a long shot," and hesighted the carbine.

  But in a moment Lindela's arms were around him, pinioning his to hissides.

  "Not so, beloved," she whispered earnestly. "Not so; the Black Ones whowait on the Spider frequently come to look down into his haunt, evenwhen they do not bring offerings of men. If they find him slain theywill know you have escaped, and will pursue; for which reason it iswell--well, indeed, that you did not quite slay him with thosemarvellous weapons, the bones of men. Further, they might hear thesound of the fire-weapon, and know where to find us. Come, we have farto travel."

  This was unanswerable. Laurence stood for a few moments gazing down intothe fearsome place which held this shuddering mystery. Was it real? Washe dreaming? Were those hours of terror and despair spent down there butsome gigantic nightmare? He passed his hand over his eyes--then lookedagain. The thing was real. But now he could no longer see the horridshape--black and grisly. The creature must have withdrawn into itsghastly den--to die. The wounds which he had inflicted upon it weresurely too deep, too strongly dealt, to be aught but mortal. The Spiderwould no more drink the blood--feed on the flesh of men. Then he turnedto follow Lindela.

  The latter had already loaded herself with the bundle of wraps andprovisions. To his suggestion that they should, at any rate, halve theload, Lindela laughed in scorn.

  "A man's work is to carry his weapons, and, when needed, use them," sheanswered. "To bear loads--and this is a light one indeed--is woman'swork--not work for one who has proved too great even for the Spider."

  Then, as they travelled down the mountain side in the fresh cool nightair, she told him of all that had befallen since he had been hauled tohis mysterious and awful doom. The thoughtless act of Holmes hadnecessitated the destruction of Nondwana's kraal there and then; and,indeed, the king's brother was more than dissatisfied with the clemencyextended to the other two white men. But the word of Tyisandhlu, oncegiven, stood. They had been sent out of the country under a strong armedescort, which was under orders to conduct them to the great town of anArab chief, with whom El Khanac had blood brotherhood.

  How had she found out the mystery of the Spider? Was it known to all thenation? It was known to very few, she explained. The Black ones whowaited upon the Spider were a mysterious order--so mysterious, indeed,that none knew exactly who were members of it and who were not. Norcould she tell how the strange and gruesome cult first originated, savethat it was dimly whispered that the Ba-gcatya had taken it over fromthe nation they had driven out, and that in accordance with an ancientprophecy uttered by a famous magician at the time of their flight fromZululand. But as she told of her resolve to rescue him at all risks,even so long ago as when, by overhearing her father's talk, she learnedthat this doom was to be his in any case, Laurence felt himself growstrangely soft towards her. Savage or not, Nondwana's daughter was asplendid character in the whole-hearted devotion of her love; heroic washardly the word for it. And as she went on to tell how she had devotedherself entirely to finding out the locality of the dreaded spot,learning the way to it by stealthily following on the footsteps of thatgrim order when it was actually engaged in conveying thither anotherhuman victim, risking her life at every step,--and not her life merely,but incurring the certainty of the same fearful doom in the event ofdiscovery,--telling it, too, in the most simple way, and as though theact were the most natural thing in the world, Laurence realized that hemight have done worse than throw in his lot with this loftily descendeddaughter of a splendid race of kingly barbarians, had circumstances beenordered otherwise.

  But even while thus listening, while thus thinking, another vein ofthought was running parallel in his mind. Those insignificant-lookingstones, which he had picked up down there, represented wealth--amplewealth; and with it had come a feverish longing to enjoy the comforts,the pleasures, the delights which civilization afforded to those whopossessed it. Yet, his entering upon such enjoyment, if it were evereffected,--as at that moment it seemed in a fair way to be,--he owed toLindela. What was to become of her, for she could never return to hernation? She had thrown away everything, this high-born daughter of arace of kings; had risked her life daily, to save the life of astranger--and that for love. Yes, that was love indeed! he thought. Shewas a brown-skinned savage, but she was a splendid woman--with mind andcharacter as noble as her own magnificent physique. She would be adelightful, a perfect companion during those wild, free forestmarches--day after day, night after night, fraught with peril andhardship at every step, but--how would civilization affect her? Would itnot ruin that grand character, even as it had ruined really noblenatures before her,--for there is such a thing as the "noble savage,"although we grant the product to be a scarce one. And with all this wasentwined the thought of Lilith Ormskirk.

  Well, sufficient for the day is the evil thereof, had always been hisguiding maxim, and for the present, as he took his way down the mountainside--the great crags rising higher and higher to the moon, the blackbillowy roll of the forest country drawing nearer and nearer, the voicesof the wild creatures of the waste, raised weird and ravening on thenight, the thunderous boom of the voice of the forest king ever and anondominating all others--Laurence felt conscious of a wild, exhilaratingsense of freedom. There was music in these sounds after the ghastly,awed silence of the horrible place from which he had been delivered.And, was it due on his part to the frame of mind of the hardenedadventurer, trained to take things as they come, the good with theill--but never, during the days and weeks that followed, did thedaughter of the line of the Ba-gcatya kings feel moved to any qualm ofregret over the sacrifice of name and home and country which she hadmade for this man's sake.