The A. Merritt Megapack

by Abraham Merritt

  She began to unbuckle the panniers. Graydon was aware that this attendant of hers was a strange servant—if servant he was. He made no move to help her. Silent he stood, and motionless, face covered.

  Graydon stepped forward to help the girl. She smiled up at him, half shyly. In the depths of her eyes was a glow warmer than friendliness; his hands leaped to touch hers.

  Instantly Soames stepped between them.

  “Better remember what I told you,” he snapped.

  “Help me,” said Suarra. Graydon lifted the basket and set it down beside her. She slipped a hasp, bent back the soft metal withes, and drew out a shimmering packet She shook it and it floated out on the dawn wind, a cloth of silver. It lay upon the ground like a web of gossamer spun by silver spiders.

  Then from the hamper she brought forth cups of gold, and deep, boat-shaped golden dishes, two tall ewers whose handles were winged serpents, their scales made, it seemed, from molten rubies. After them small golden-withed baskets. She set the silver cloth with the dishes and the cups. She opened the little baskets. In them were unfamiliar, fragrant fruits and loaves and oddly colored cakes. All these Suarra placed upon the plates. She dropped to her knees at the head of the cloth, took up one of the ewers, snapped open its lid and from it poured into the cups clear amber wine.

  She raised her eyes to them; waved a white hand, graciously.

  “Sit,” she said. “Eat and drink.”

  She beckoned to Graydon; pointed to the place beside her. Silently, gaze fixed upon the glittering hoard, Starrett and Dancret and Soames squatted before the other plates. Soames thrust out a hand, took up one and weighed it, scattering what it held upon the cloth.

  “Gold!” he breathed.

  Starrett laughed, crazily, and raised his wine-filled goblet to his lips.

  “Wait!” Dancret caught his wrist ‘Eat and drink,’ she said, eh? “Eat, drink and be merry—for to-morrow we die, eh—is that it?”

  Soames started, his face once more dark with suspicion.

  “You think it’s poisoned?” he snarled.

  “Maybe no—maybe so,” the little Frenchman shrugged. “Anyway I t’ink it better we say ‘After you’ to her.”

  The girl looked at them, then at Graydon, inquiringly. “They are afraid. They think it is—that you have—” Graydon stumbled. “That I have put sleep—or death in it? And you?” she asked.

  For answer, Graydon raised his cup and drank.

  “Yet it is natural,” she turned to Soames. “Yes, it is natural that you three should fear this, since—is it not so—it is what you would do if you were we, and we were you? But you are wrong. I tell you again that what there may be to fear is only that which is in yourselves.”

  She poured wine into her own cup and drank it; broke off a bit of Starrett’s bread and ate it; took a cake from Dancret’s plate and ate that; set white teeth in one of the fruits.

  “Are you satisfied?” she asked them. “Oh, be very sure that if it is in my wish to bring death to you, it is in no such shape as this.”

  For a moment Soames glared at her. He jumped to his feet strode over to the hooded figure and snatched aside the cowl. The uncovered face was like old ivory. It was seamed with scores of fine lines. It was a face stamped with an incredible ancientness—but the eyes were as bright and as youthful as their setting was ancient.

  It stared at Soames, inscrutably. For a dozen heartbeats the gaunt New Englander stared back. Then, slowly, he let the hood drop. He returned to the silver cloth. As he passed, Graydon saw that all color had drained from his cheeks. He threw himself down at his place, and drank deep of the wine, the hand that raised the goblet shaking.

  He drank, and drank again from the flagon. And soon, whatever the terror he had felt, the wine drowned it The first ewer and a second, drawn by Suarra from the llama’s panniers, were emptied by the three before Soames lurched to his feet.

  “You’re all right, sister,” he said, half-drunkenly. “Just keep on treatin’ us like this, and we’ll end by all bein’ little pals together.”

  “What does he say?” asked Suarra of Graydon.

  “He approves of your—entertainment,” answered Graydon, dryly.

  “Good,” Suarra, too, arose. “Then let us be going.”

  “We’re going, sister, never fear,” grinned Soames. “Danc’, you stay right here and watch things. Come on, Bill—” he slapped Starrett on the back. “Everything’s just fine. Come on, Graydon—bygones is bygones.”

  Starrett scrambled up. He linked his arm in the New Englander’s. They staggered over to the tent. Dancret, upon whom the wine seemed to have had little effect, settled down on a bowlder just beyond the fire and began his watch, rifle at readiness.

  Graydon lingered. Soames had forgotten him, for a time at least. He meant to make the best of that time with this strange maid whose beauty and sweetness had touched him as no other woman’s ever had. He drew so close that the fragrance of her cloudy hair rocked him; so close that her touching shoulder sent a flame through him.

  “Suarra—” he began. She turned, and silenced him with slender fingers on his lips.

  “Not now—” she whispered. “Not now—tell me nothing now of what is in your heart—Not now—nor, it may be, ever! I promised that I would save you—if I could. Of that promise was born another—” her glance turned to the silent figure, meaningly. “So speak to me not again,” she went on hurriedly, “or if you must speak—let it be of—commonplace things.”

  She began packing the golden cups and dishes. He set about helping her. He thought, ruefully, that this was a commonplace thing enough to satisfy her. She accepted his aid without comment, looked at him no more.

  When the last shining cup was in the pannier, he turned and went toward the tent to get together his duffle, pack his burro. The voices of Starrett and Soames came to him.

  “But she’s not Indian, Soames,” Starrett was speaking. “She’s whiter than you and me. What are they? And the girl—Christ!”

  “What they are we’ll find out, never fear,” and Soames.

  “To hell with the girl—take her if you want her. But I’d go through a dozen hells to get to the place where that stuff they’re carryin’ samples of comes from. Man—with what we could carry out on the burros and the llama and come back for—man, we could buy the world.”

  “Yes—unless there’s a trap somewhere,” said Starrett, dubiously.

  “We’ve got the cards in our hands,” the wine was wearing off Soames. “What’s against us? An old dummy and a girl. Now, I’ll tell you what I think. I don’t know who or what they are, but whoever or whatever, you can bet there ain’t many of ’em. If there was, they’d be landing on us hard. No—they’re damned anxious to get us away and they’re willin’ to let us get out with what we can to get us away. They want to get rid of us, quick and cheap as possible. Yeah—that’s what they want. Why—because they damn well know the three of us could wipe ’em all out.”

  “Three of us?” echoed Starrett. “Four, you mean. There’s Graydon.”

  “Graydon don’t count—the louse! Thought he’d sold us out, didn’t he? All right—we’ll fix Mister Graydon when the time comes. Just now he’s useful to us on account of the girl. She’s stuck on him. But when the time comes to divide—there’ll be only three of us. And there’ll only be two of us—if you do anything like you did this morning.”

  “Cut it out, Soames,” growled Starrett. “I told you it was the hooch. I’m through with that, now that we’ve seen this stuff. I’m with you to the limit Do what you want with Graydon. But—I want the girl. I’d be willing to make a bargain with you—give up a part of my share.”

  “Oh, hell,” drawled Soames. “We’ve been together a good many years. Bill. There’s enough and plenty for the three of us. You can have the girl for nothing.”

  Little flecks of red danced before Graydon’s eyes. Hand stretched to tear open the tent flap, he checked himself.

  That was no way t
o help Suarra. Unarmed, what could he do? In some way, he must get his guns. And the danger was not imminent—they would do nothing before they reached that place of treasure to which Suarra had promised to lead them.

  He stole back a dozen paces, waited for a moment or two; then went noisily to the tent. He thrust aside the flap and entered.

  “Been a long time comin’,” snarled Soames. “Been talkin’—after what I told you?”

  “Not a word,” lied Graydon, cheerfully—he busied himself with his belongings. “By the way, Soames, don’t you think it’s time to stop this nonsense and give me back my guns?”

  Soames made no answer.

  “Oh, all right then,” said Graydon. “I only thought that they would come in handy when the pinch comes. But if you only want me to look on while you do the scrapping—well, I don’t mind.”

  “You’d better mind,” said Soames. “You’d better mind, Graydon! If the pinch comes—we’re takin’ no chances of a bullet in our backs. That’s why you’ve got no guns. And if the pinch does come—well, we’ll take no chances on you, anyway. Do you get me?”

  Graydon shrugged. In silence the packing was completed; the tent struck; the burros loaded.

  Suarra stood awaiting them at the side of the white llama. Soames walked up to her, drew from its holster his automatic, balanced it in outstretched hand.

  “You know what this is?” he asked her.

  “Why, yes,” she answered. “It is the death weapon of your kind.”

  “Right,” said Soames. “And it deals death quickly, quicker than spears or arrows—” He raised his voice so there could be no doubt that her silent attendant must also hear—“Now, I and these two men here carry these and others still more deadly. This man’s we have taken from him. Your words may be clearest truth. I hope they are—for your sake and this man’s and his who came with you. You understand me?” he asked, and grinned like a hungry wolf.

  “I understand.” Suarra’s eyes and face were calm. “You need fear nothing from us.”

  “We don’t,” said Soames. “But you have much to fear—from us.” Another moment he regarded her, menacingly; then shoved his pistol back into his holster.

  “You go first,” he ordered. “Your man behind you. And then him—” he pointed to Graydon. “We three march in the rear—death-weapons ready.”

  In that order they passed through the giant algarrobas, and out into the oddly park-like spaces beyond.

  CHAPTER IV

  The Thing That Fled

  They had traveled over the savanna for perhaps an hour when Suarra turned to the left, entering the forest that covered the flanks of a great mountain. The trees closed on them. Graydon could see no trail, yet she went on without pause. Another hour went by and the way began to climb, the shade to deepen. Deeper it became and deeper, until the girl was but a flitting shadow.

  Once or twice Graydon had glanced at the three men behind him. The darkness was making them more and more uneasy. They walked close together, eyes and ears strained to catch the first faint stirrings of ambush. And now, as the green gloom grew denser still, Soames ordered him to join Dancret and Starrett. He hesitated, read murder in the New Englander’s eyes, realized the futility of resistance and dropped back. Soames pressed forward until he was close behind the cowled figure. Dancret drew Graydon between himself and Starrett, grinning.

  “Soames has changed his plan,” he whispered. “If there is trouble, he shoot the old devil—quick. He keep the girl to make trade wit’ her people. He keep you to make trade wit’ the girl. How you like—eh?”

  Graydon did not answer. When the Frenchman had pressed close to him, he had felt an automatic in his side pocket. If an attack did come, he could leap upon Dancret, snatch the pistol and gain for himself a fighting chance. He would shoot Soames down as remorselessly as he knew Soames would shoot him.

  Darker grew the woods until the figures in front were only a moving blur. Then the gloom began to lighten. They had been passing through some ravine, some gorge whose unseen walls had been pressing in upon them, and had now begun to retreat.

  A few minutes longer, and ahead of them loomed a prodigious doorway, a cleft whose sides reached up for thousands of feet. Beyond was a flood of sunshine. Suarra stopped at the rocky threshold with a gesture of warning, peered through, and beckoned them on.

  Blinking, Graydon walked through the portal. He looked out over a grass-covered plain strewn with huge, isolated rocks rising from the green like menhirs of the Druids. There were no trees. The plain was dish-shaped; an enormous oval as symmetrical as though it had been molded by the thumb of some Cyclopean potter. Straight across it, three miles or more away, the forests began again. They clothed the base of another gigantic mountain whose walls arose, perpendicularly, a mile at least in the air. The smooth scarps described an arc of a tremendous circle—round as Fujiyama’s sacred cone, but many times its girth.

  They were on a wide ledge that bordered this vast bowl This shelf was a full hundred feet higher than the bottom of the valley whose side sloped up to it like the side of a saucer. And, again carrying out that suggestion of a huge dish, the ledge jutted out like a rim. Graydon guessed that there was a concavity under his feet, and that if one should fall over the side it would be well-nigh impossible to climb back because of the overhang. The surface was about twelve feet wide, and more like a road carefully leveled by human hands than work of nature. On one side was the curving bowl of the valley with its weird monoliths and the circular scarp of the mysterious mountain; on the other the wooded cliffs, unscalable.

  They set forth along the rim-like way. Noon came, and in another ravine that opened upon the strange road they had snatched from saddle bags a hasty lunch. They did not waste time in unpacking the burros. There was a little brook singing in the pass, and from it they refilled their canteens, then watered the animals. This time Suarra did not join them.

  By mid-afternoon they were nearing the northern end of the bowl. All through the day the circular mountain across the plain had unrolled its vast arc of cliff. A wind had arisen, sweeping from the distant forest and bending the tall heads of the grass far below them.

  Suddenly, deep within the wind, Graydon heard a faint, far-off clamor, a shrill hissing, as of some on-rushing army of serpents. The girl halted, face turned toward the sound. It came again—and louder. Her face whitened, but when she spoke her voice was steady.

  “There is danger,” she said. “Deadly danger for you. It may pass and—it may not. Until we know what to expect you must hide. Take your animals and tether them in the underbrush there—” she pointed to the mountainside which here was broken enough for cover—“the four of you take trees and hide behind them. Tie the mouths of your animals so that they can make no noise.”

  “So!” snarled Soames. “So here’s the trap, is it! All right, sister, you know what I told you. We’ll go into the trees, but—you go with us where we can keep our hands on you.”

  “I will go with you,” she answered, gravely.

  Soames glared at her, then turned abruptly.

  “Danc’,” he ordered, “Starrett—get the burros in. And Graydon—you’ll stay with the burros and see they make no noise. We’ll be right close—with the guns. And we’ll have the girl—don’t forget that.”

  Again the hissing shrilled down the wind.

  “Be quick,” the girl commanded.

  When the trees and underbrush had closed in upon them it flashed on Graydon, crouching behind the burros, that he had not seen the cloaked famulus of Suarra join the retreat and seek the shelter of the woods. He parted the bushes, and peered cautiously through them. There was no one upon the path.

  A sudden gust of wind tore at the trees. It brought with it a burst of the hissing, closer and more strident, and in it an undertone that thrilled him with unfamiliar terror.

  A thing of vivid scarlet streaked out from the trees which here were not more than a half a mile away. It scuttled over the plain until it reach
ed the base of one of the monoliths. It swarmed up its side to the top. There it paused, apparently scanning the forest from which it had come. He caught the impression of some immense insect, but touched with a monstrous, an incredible suggestion of humanness.

  The scarlet thing slipped down the monolith, and raced through the grasses toward him. Out of the forest burst what at first glance he took for a pack of huge hunting dogs—then realized that whatever they might be, dogs they certainly were not. They came forward leaping like kangaroos, and as they leaped they glittered green and blue in the sunlight, as though armored in mail of emeralds and sapphires. Nor did ever dogs give tongue as they did. From them came the hellish hissing.

  The scarlet thing darted to right, to left, frantically; then crouched at the base of another monolith, motionless.

  From the trees emerged another monstrous shape. Like the questing creatures, it glittered—but as though its body were cased in polished jet. Its bulk was that of a giant draft-horse. Its neck was long and reptilian. At the base of its neck, astride it, was a man.

  Graydon cautiously raised his field glasses and focused them on the pack. Directly in his line of vision was one of the creatures which had come to gaze. It stood rigid, its side toward him, pointing like a hunting dog.

  It was a dinosaur!

  Dwarfed to the size of a Great Dane, still there was no mistaking it. He could see its blunt and spade-shaped tail which with its powerful, pillar-like hind legs made a tripod upon which it squatted. Its body was nearly erect. Its short forelegs were muscled as powerfully as it’s others. It held these forelegs half curved at its breast, as though ready to clutch. They ended in four long talons, chisel shaped. One of which thrust outward like a huge thumb.

  And what he had taken for mail of sapphire and emerald were scales. They overlapped like those of the armadillo. From their burnished surfaces and edges the sun struck out the jewel glints.