Read Ebook: The Wolf-Men: A Tale of Amazing Adventure in the Under-World by Powell David Franklin

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Ebook has 1472 lines and 60829 words, and 30 pages

f the searchlight. But never a glimmer did I see. Hours passed, and I grew faint with hunger, yet still toiled on, hoping that in a little while my quest would be ended. At length my hunger became unbearable. Plucking several fleshy fungi, I tore off the thick outer skin and bolted the pulp eagerly, caring little whether they were of a poisonous character or not, so that the gnawing pain at my stomach was relieved.

"To my surprise, they proved not merely palatable, but stimulating. The stagnant blood began to course with fresh vigour through my veins, and I arose, refreshed and strengthened, to resume my quest. It was pleasing to think that, at any rate, I need not starve, even if I could not find the boat for a time. But should I ever find her at all? The question, flashing through my mind of a sudden, almost caused my heart to stand still.

"For awhile my rage and despair knew no bounds, and I raced up and down the beach like a madman, feeling that I was hopelessly lost in this subterranean world. Presently I grew calmer, and began to look at my position from the standpoint of common-sense. It was terrible enough in all conscience. Alone, entirely defenceless--for I had lost my revolver when I fell into the hands of the savages--in a land inhabited by monstrous beasts and wolf-like men, it was a situation, you will admit, that would have tried the stoutest heart.

"Remember that then I fully believed the boat had gone for ever.

"Suddenly, as I sat thinking out my future movements, a weird howl broke upon my ears. In a fright I started up, and rushed off at headlong speed down the shore, determined that I would not again be taken. For how long I kept on I cannot tell, but I know that at last, footsore and completely worn out, I flung myself down upon the sand and fell fast asleep. I awoke ravenously hungry, and my first action was to make a hearty attack upon a fungus. That done, I felt better.

"Telling myself that I had been a fool to allow the cry of the savages to startle me, I commenced to retrace my steps. I had covered perhaps a mile, certainly not more, when, rounding a monstrous boulder, I came plump upon those fellows"--and he pointed to the beach again.

"They were squatting in an angle of the rock, eagerly tearing at a carcase of some sort. For the moment they did not notice me, and I was hoping to get past unobserved, when, as luck would have it, I kicked against a stone. In a flash the brutes were up and after me. Thinking to escape them amid the fungi, I plunged into the jungle. I ran as I had never run before, but I could not shake them off. The beasts seemed absolutely tireless.

"I had almost given up hope when I heard the reports of your rifle. The sounds gave me fresh strength, and I dashed furiously on until I emerged yonder. The rest you know."

Garth rose as he finished his story, and glanced out through the glass.

Then a startling cry burst from him.

"Great Heaven! Look there, Tom!"

Wilson turned quickly.

Through the ghostly twilight, a cable's length astern, loomed the monstrous form and vast, glaring orbs of the great fish-lizard.

"GEHARI--THE WILY ONE."

"I OPINE it's got to be done."

Once more Silas and the baronet stood upon the brink of the great abyss which had barred further progress upon their first journey.

"You see, it's this way," Haverly went on: "there's just a glimmer of a chance that Garth and Mervyn are still alive. It ain't the general thing with savages to kill their prisoners off-hand, and I guess these wolf-men are no exception to the rule. That being so, we may still be in time to pull this job off if we adopt my plan. You'll allow that if we've got to foot it twenty or thirty miles along the edge of this yer crevice, we're safe to arrive considerable too late for business?"

"Tramping along the brink on the chance of finding a place sufficiently narrow for us to jump is utterly out of the question," replied Seymour. "Your plan is really the only feasible one, although it sounds decidedly risky."

"Then here goes," cried the millionaire. He flung himself down upon the very verge of the chasm, and, leaning far over, hauled up the dangling ropes which had formed the bridge.

With Seymour's aid he cut the fastenings that bound it to the rocky brink; then the twain applied themselves to the task of unlashing the cross-ties, a piece of work that proved very tedious, and which was accomplished with no little difficulty.

It was finished at length, though, and then Haverly skilfully knotted the two long strands, each of which was about thirty feet in length, testing the knots again and again to assure himself of their firmness.

"I guess that'll hold," he remarked; "if it gives at all it won't be at the knots."

At one end of this hide rope he made a running noose, and, coiling it lasso-fashion about his arm, he rose.

"Now for a suitable rock to sling it over," he went on, "and then we'll have a first-class bridge: a bit fragile, perhaps, but 'needs must when the old man drives,' you know."

Along the edge of the gorge the two men strode, searching carefully for an out-jutting spur of rock upon the opposite side.

For a time their efforts were unrewarded, and Seymour began to grow impatient. Every instant was of priceless value; each moment the odds against their being able to carry out their desperate plan of rescue increased.

Then suddenly they came in sight of a crag which appeared as though it had been made for the purpose.

Whirling his roughly made lasso above his head, the Yankee made a cast.

But the noose fell short, and the rope swished downward into the gorge.

"Better luck next time," Silas muttered, as he recoiled it.

Once more he threw the noose, and this time fortune attended his efforts. The rope settled over the rocky spur, and was at once pulled taut.

"I guess we'll have to risk the rock cuttin' the hide," the Yankee said, as he securely fastened his end of the rope to an adjacent boulder.

Creeping to the verge, he took a firm grip of the hide with both hands, and lowered himself over into the gorge.

The frail rope creaked ominously beneath his weight, as, hand over hand, he commenced to drag himself across that yawning gulf.

Each instant it seemed as though the swaying thread on which his life depended would snap. Beads of sweat stood out upon Seymour's forehead as he watched his friend's perilous progress.

The American's lithe body swayed and danced like a puppet, as his hands clasped and unclasped upon the rope.

Halfway across he paused for a brief rest, then on he toiled once more, until he reached the crag to which the rope was fastened.

With a supreme effort he dragged himself upon the rock, and lay panting awhile as the result of his tremendous exertions.

When he had somewhat recovered, he rose, and made a careful examination of the rope at the point where it encircled the crag.

"Unlash it for a moment, Seymour," he called, his voice echoing strangely from the depths of the chasm.

As the baronet complied with his request, Silas removed the noose. Taking off his jacket, he wrapped it closely around the rock, replacing the rope over it.

"I guess that'll keep it from wearing through," he said. "If you'll do the same your side, it will lessen the risk of it snapping."

Sir William followed his example, then launched himself cautiously over the brink. Inch by inch, foot by foot, he advanced, though the rope cut his hands like a knife. His arms seemed to be leaving their sockets through the strain, and his eyes grew dim and bloodshot, yet he still dragged onward.

Longingly he gazed upon the opposite lip of the gorge, where Haverly sat at ease. Would he be able to hold out? It seemed doubtful, for his strength was ebbing fast. His great weight made his crossing ten times more difficult than the lighter-built Yankee's had been.

His goal appeared to recede as he advanced. What would he not give to rest his aching arms for just one moment?

"Courage!" cried his friend, and the word gave him strength.

Haverly had made the passage; why not he?

"Grip for your life!" cried the Yankee; "the rope's giving!"

The next moment the rope parted behind him, and he dropped like a stone into the depths. Instinctively his clutch tightened upon the hide.

A swift rush through the air, then, with a shock that forced a groan of agony from his bloodless lips, he struck the canyon wall.

For a few seconds he hung, twisting and swaying, at the end of the rope, until his feet found hold on a narrow ledge in the face of the rock. On to this he drew himself.

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