The Pulp Fiction Megapack

by Robert Leslie Bellem

  She was kneeling beside her uncle, who still lay where Hardin had placed him. She had withdrawn the spear and was baring the wound for examination. Hardin looked at it critically. It was an ugly-looking gash, and it bled profusely, but the spear had not penetrated very deeply, having glanced on the bone at the top of the shoulder. Unless the spear had been poisoned, it was by no means a fatal hurt, but owing to the wounded man’s age and exhausted condition it was serious.

  Hardin helped Irene wash the cut with cold water from a little spring which bubbled up near the mouth of the cave and bandage it as best she could. When the biologist had recovered consciousness and had been made as comfortable as was possible, the banker made his first real examination of their shelter.

  He found that they were in a rock-walled chamber about twenty-feet square, very lofty, and with a bottom of hard, clean sand. It was lighted from a narrow cleft high up in the roof so that it was not much more gloomy than the jungle had been. Owing to the narrow entrance and the mass of vines which grew over it, it could be easily defended from within by men as well armed as himself and Batu. Barring the one serious drawback—their total lack of food—they were in a position to withstand a long siege.

  “This really isn’t half bad,” Hardin declared, after he had finished his survey of the place. “We’re well sheltered and we have all the fresh water we can use. One man with a gun could hold this cave against a thousand savages. All we’ve got to do is to think up a scheme to get the Condor back again, and that should be fairly simple after it is dark.”

  “I don’t see how,” said Irene. “This awful jungle is bad enough in full daylight; after dark it will be hopeless. The Bamangani are at home in it, and at night you can’t see to shoot. I know you will do your best, Tom, and I have every confidence in you; but I’m afraid—terribly afraid! I wish we had never come here at all.”

  “I shall never leave this island alive,” Doctor Dumont chimed in weakly. “My strength has gone. Whatever happens to the rest of you, I am doomed. If you see a chance after it is dark, you must take it and leave me here. I can never travel as far as the lake. I should only hinder you.”

  Hardin grinned and shook his head. “Nonsense!” he said. “Things are never as bad as they look, and we’ve all been in worse holes than this before now. You’re all right—only tired out, doctor. A good rest will make you right as rain. You must brace up. Don’t forget that Batu is with us. He knows this country like a book and he has the eyes of an owl. We’ll all be back on board the Condor before dawn to-morrow. I’m sure of it!”

  Confidently as he spoke, however, the banker was inwardly much worried at the turn things had taken. He realized that, although the coming night might give them a certain advantage in their efforts to slip through the ranks of the ape-men and regain the seaplane, it also would be against them to a great extent.

  With the exception of Batu, none of them were used to jungle travel, and after dark the jungle is well-nigh impassable. Even the savages seldom move about after nightfall. Nevertheless, he felt that their only chance lay in slipping away from the cave before the Bamangani attacked it in force, which they surely would do some time during the night. By daylight he and Batu would have no trouble in defending themselves, for then they could see to shoot, but in the dark everything was changed. Then the advantage would lie with the ape-men.

  Hardin scowled thoughtfully as he lighted his pipe and joined the Dyak at the mouth of the cave. He was face to face with a very knotty problem, a problem which seemed more complex the deeper he probed into it. Since the Condor had been captured by the ape-men it would be necessary for the fugitives not only to escape from the cave and make their way through the jungle in the dark, but also to recapture the seaplane, which, for all they could tell to the contrary, might be occupied by at least a score of their enemies.

  On the face of it, the task looked impossible, and yet, since they had no alternative, it must be attempted. Failure meant death or worse for them all, for the Bamangani had already demonstrated the fact that they were not to be argued with. Contrary to all expectation, they had chosen to adopt a hostile attitude from the very beginning, and now that several of their number had been killed or wounded there was no hope that they could be pacified. The only course open to the fugitives lay in the recapture of their seaplane and flight from the island before starvation and lack of ammunition made them fall an easy prey to their enemies.

  Satisfied that there was no immediate danger of attack and anxious to get all the rest he could, before night came, Hardin directed Batu to warn him instantly of any new move on the part of the ape-men and lay down on the sand.

  Irene and her uncle, utterly worn out, were already dozing, he was glad to note; Batu alone seemed to be perfectly fresh. In common with most primitive people the Dyak possessed the doglike faculty of conquering fatigue so long as there was excitement or danger in the air, but the moment it ceased he would drop down wherever he was and sleep for hours.

  It seemed to Hardin that he had just dropped off when he was aroused by a light touch on his cheek. He sat up instantly to find the Dyak stooping over him.

  “Bamangani are coming, tuan,” Batu whispered.

  CHAPTER VI

  FIGHTING FOR LIFE

  Clutching his rifle, Hardin went to the mouth of the cave and peered through the vines. He must have slept longer than he thought, for he found that the shadows were already lengthening—in another hour or so it would be dark. At first he saw nothing of the ape-men, but at last he made them out in the bushes at the opposite edge of the clearing.

  There must have been fifty of them, and they were gathered in a half circle around their chief, who was talking earnestly. In the dim light they looked more like apes than men, with their squat figures and long arms; had it not been for the weapons they carried one might have sworn that he witnessed a council of gorillas.

  As he watched them the banker wondered why they did not wait for darkness before they made their attack; he did not know that twilight and dawn were their favorite hours for charging an enemy.

  They came on at length in a scattering formation, darting across the clearing with almost incredible rapidity, and as silently as shadows. The two men waited patiently until they were less than twenty yards away before they opened fire. At that range their rifles exacted a terrible toll. It was almost impossible to miss, and by the time the ape-men broke and ran for cover nine of them were writhing on the ground and two more lay perfectly still.

  Hardin chuckled grimly. “We’ve sent a few of them where they’ll have to be good, anyhow, Batu,” he said as they reloaded their weapons. “They’ll not forget that lesson in a hurry. I wish they’d stay out in the open; we’d account for the whole lot in short order.”

  “Sure, Mike!” Batu exclaimed, showing his white teeth in a wide grin. “They’re afraid now, tuan, but they’re very mad. They will not go away. Killing them is like killing flies—two more come back for every one you kill. But they not come back now until it’s dark and the moon rises.”

  “You think they’ll wait for the moon, eh? Good! That will give us time to slip away and start for the beach. The moon won’t rise until about ten o’clock. What do you think, Batu? Think we can make it?”

  “It’s not very far, tuan,” the Dyak answered, “but it will be hard walking in the dark. Doctor Dumont is hurt, too. That’s bad. But it’s the only thing we can do, and we must try.”

  “Of course.” Hardin nodded. “It’s our only chance. I hope they haven’t injured the plane. If they have, we’ll be up against it.”

  Batu shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Bamangani think it very much taboo, that flying thing. Maybe there won’t be any one on board at all to-night, but they’ll be on the shore near by. We must go very careful, tuan.”

  The light faded at last, and the clearing beyond the mouth of the cave became as black as a pot of ink. Except for a faint breeze which rustled through the trees and vines th
ere was no sound as Hardin helped Doctor Dumont to his feet and whispered to Irene to follow Batu out of the cave.

  Those few hours of rest had done the old scientist a world of good. Supported by Hardin’s arm, he stepped out gamely into the night, once more ready to fight for the life which is so dear to both young and old.

  There was no sign of the ape-men as the four people crept cautiously around the edge of the clearing, holding their breaths in fear and trembling lest some false step warn their enemies of what they were attempting. On the black night it was impossible to see a yard; they could only keep in touch with each other by holding hands, but they were thankful for this, for they knew that the darkness would hide them from the eyes of the ape-men, until they could reach the shelter of the trees.

  Slowly and cautiously they crept along, and as fate would have it they met with no obstruction or hindrance until the brushing of leaves against their faces and hands told them that they were entering the jungle.

  Now it was that the Dyak’s marvelous memory for locality came into play. Without him they could not have gone a hundred feet, for their course lay through the very thickest portion of the jungle, impassable save for the narrow game trails, which Batu seemed to have a most uncanny instinct for picking out. With unerring judgment he kept going in a definite direction, and his companions followed him blindly.

  Occasionally he was at fault, but never for long at a time, and he did not pause until they were fully a quarter of a mile from the cave. Here, in what seemed to be a slightly less dense section of the jungle, he halted to permit Doctor Dumont and Irene to rest for a minute.

  “What now, Batu?” asked Hardin.

  “We’re getting near the lake, tuan,” the Dyak answered. “I can smell the water, and I think the beach is a little to the right of us. We must be very still until we know where Bamangani are camped. There used to be a deep cut in the bank here somewhere that went down to the water, but that was many years ago, and it is very dark now. The land has changed; there is no path here; the vines are very thick.”

  This was a serious matter, for one misstep in such a labyrinth might mean utter ruin, and since they must reach the lake before the moon rose they had little time to search. For a few minutes they discussed the point in whispers, and at last decided to push straight on through the vines in the hope that they would reach the water before going far.

  They were starting to do this, when Irene, who had been silent until then, suggested that they should first go a little way on that side where the trees seemed thinnest, on the chance of finding a path. This seemed reasonable, so they turned to the left and began their march again.

  They had not gone very far before Batu gave vent to a little grunt of delight. “The path is here, tuan,” he whispered. “It is the old trail I spoke of, filled up with vines and very rough, but it will take us to the water not far from the beach.”

  Following their guide, the three others let themselves over the edge of a kind of bank and slid down for about the height of a tall man until their feet touched solid ground. Here they found themselves standing in a trench about a yard wide—in reality an old game trail worn down by countless feet and winter rains until it had sunk far below the level of the surrounding soil. This trench sloped sharply in what Batu told them was the direction of the lake.

  Very slowly and carefully, feeling each step before they took it, they descended this sunken path, twisting in and out between the lianas as best they could. They had gone a considerable distance, and Doctor Dumont, whose wound pained him severely, was beginning to falter in his stride, when suddenly the vines and trees seemed to fall away and they stepped out beneath the open sky.

  “The lake!” Irene whispered joyfully. “Oh, Tommy, we’ve reached the shore at last!”

  Her husband squeezed her hand encouragingly. “Of course,” he said. “Thank God for it, dear. Now if we can only get aboard the plane!”

  “Hush, tuan,” the Dyak’s whisper came back to them. “Bamangani must be near us somewhere. Crouch down near bushes until we can find out where they are.”

  Accordingly, they huddled together beneath some overhanging limbs on the edge of the narrow fringe of beach which lay between the trees and the water, while Batu slipped off into the night to reconnoiter their surroundings.

  Although they could hear the gentle lapping of the water almost at their feet, they could not see it. They could see absolutely nothing, in fact, except a dark blur behind them which denoted trees and a few twinkling stars far above. Strive hard as he could, Hardin could see nothing of the Condor, although he knew that the great seaplane must be lying almost within a stone’s throw of them.

  Occasionally the stillness was broken by the croaking of frogs, and once the guttural cries of some marauding beast awoke the echoes, but for the most part it was very quiet, being as yet too early for the normal life of the jungle to begin its nightly rounds. With the moon-rise many creatures would begin to travel which until then would remain hidden in their lairs. It was the most peaceful hour of the night.

  Suddenly there was an almost imperceptible stir among them and Batu squatted down beside Hardin.

  “Bamangani are camping near the beach,” he whispered. “Very many of them, tuan; I could not count them in the dark. Pretty quick moon will rise and they will all sleep. Then we can swim out to Condor. No fear here; they cannot track us in the dark.”

  “You know where the Condor is then—you’ve located her?” Hardin asked eagerly.

  “Yes, tuan; over that way.” Batu pointed somewhere into the night. “You’ll see when the moon comes.”

  The night breeze swept over them, rustling the dense foliage, fashioning the lake mists into fantastic shapes that threw strange shadows on the inky surface of the water as the slowly rising moon made it possible to see a little. From time to time the frogs broke out in a sudden chorus of croaking, then grew silent again; a heron cried from afar as something disturbed its rest, and from overhead came the beat of wings as hundreds of waterfowl moved to their feeding grounds.

  At last the straining eyes of the fugitives could make out a dark shadowy bulk on the surface of the water, some three hundred feet away, which they knew must be the Condor, although it was little more than a shapeless blur in the uncertain light.

  Stripping off their outer clothing, Hardin and Batu laid their rifles and revolvers on the ground and stepped into the tepid water.

  “Do be careful, dear,” Irene whispered anxiously, as her husband started to wade away from the beach.

  “Of course,” he answered. “We’ll reconnoiter carefully before we go aboard, and if the plane is deserted, as I hope and believe, we’ll be back for you in a jiffy. It is not at all probable that any of the Bamangani are spending the night on board—anyhow, they’re all asleep by this time.”

  So, unarmed save for the long knife which Batu carried at his waist, the two men moved out into the deep water and began to swim toward the seaplane. They swam very slowly and quietly, for stealth was far more important just then than speed, but the distance was short and within a few minutes they found themselves inside the black shadows cast by the Condor’s planes. Here they treaded water, listening and straining their eyes for a sight or sound of the enemy.

  They heard or saw nothing, however, and, satisfied at length that the bird-boat was as deserted as it seemed, they swam closer and made a complete circle of the hull before they halted under the stern. Here Batu grasped the end of a long rod which acted as a brace for one of the planes and pulled himself up over the side.

  For a few minutes all was silent; then the Dyak returned and extended an arm to his companion. “Nobody here, tuan,” he whispered. “Bamangani all gone just like we thought. Big flying boat very much taboo; they not stay here at night.”

  Hardin climbed out of the water. “Good!” he exclaimed. “Now, if they haven’t damaged the engines, we’ll soon be out of this. We must hurry. They must have discovered our flight from the cave long ago, and
the camp on the beach may be aroused any minute. We’ll go after Mrs. Hardin and the doctor first thing.”

  As he spoke they were both moving forward toward the spot where the engines were situated, eager to see if they were still in working order, when suddenly a rifle shot split the stillness. On the heels of this came several confused shouts; then shrill and clear above other sounds Hardin heard Irene shriek wildly.

  With hardly a pause in his stride the banker rushed to the side of the sea-plane, sprang overboard, and began to swim furiously toward the spot where he had left his wife and her uncle.

  As his feet touched bottom he could dimly make out a struggling mass near the edge of the trees, a little to his left, and he darted toward this instantly, shouting encouragement as he ran.

  Before he was entirely free of the water, however, a dozen hairy figures sprang down upon him from the bank. For a few seconds he fought wildly, furiously, fought as a man fights when he is fighting for something even dearer than life, but he was unarmed and outnumbered more than ten to one.

  Buried under a pile of struggling bodies, he went down in the shallow water, half rose to his feet once more, but was pulled down again by twenty powerful hands. Then something heavy fell on his head, sparks swam dizzily in his eyes, and everything turned black.

  CHAPTER VII

  THE SHADOW OF DEATH

  When the light of returning consciousness came back to him, Hardin lay still for many minutes trying to figure out just what had happened and where he was. At last, as understanding fully returned and a partial realization of past events seeped into his mind, he became dimly aware of a pale anxious face that hovered close above him. It was very sweet, that face, and for a little he watched it idly, content to lie still, for he felt strangely weak and languid.