Chapter 15: In The Grip Of Terror

As the three pursuers steadily advanced, the thing roared once more, and again they heard the hammering, drumming boom. Zangamon whispered some unintelligible phrase.

Allan projected the light forward again, and at sight of a moving mass, vague and intangible, among the gigantic fronds, leveled his automatic.

But on the instant Bremilu seized his arm.

“O master! Do not throw the fire of death!” he warned. “You cannot see, but we can! Do not throw the fire!”

“Why not? What is that thing?”

“It seems a man, yet it is different, master. It is all hair, and very thick and strong, and hideous! Do not shoot, O Kromno!”

“Why not?”

“Behold! That strange man-thing holds the woman, Beatrice, in his left arm. Of a truth, you may kill her, and not the enemy.”

Allan steadied himself against a palm. His brain seemed whirling, and for a moment all grew vague and like a dream.

She was there--Beatrice was there, and they could see her. There, in the clutches of some monster, horrible and foul! Living yet? Dead?

“Tell me! Does she live?”

“We cannot say, O Kromno. But do not shoot. We will creep close--we, ourselves, will slay, and never touch the woman.”

“No, no! If you do he’ll strangle her--provided she still lives! Don’t go! Wait! Let me think a second.”

With a tremendous effort Allan mastered himself. The situation far surpassed, in horror, any he had ever known.

There not a hundred yards distant in the dense blackness was Beatrice, in the grip of some unknown and hideous creature. Advance, Allan dared not, lest the creature rend her to tatters. Shoot, he dared not.

Yet something must be done, and quickly, for every second, every fraction of a second, was golden. The merest accident might now mean death or life--life, if the girl still lived!

“Zangamon!”

“Yea, master?”

“Be very bold! Do my bidding!”

“Speak only the word, Kromno, and I obey!”

“Go you, then, very quietly, very swiftly, to the other side of these great growing things--these trees, we call them. Then call, so that this thing shall turn toward you. Thus, I may shoot, and perhaps not kill the woman. It is the only way!”

“I hear, master. I go!”

Allan and Bremilu waited, while from the thicket came, at intervals, the savage snuffling, with now and then a grumbling mutter.

All at once a call sounded from far ahead.

“Come!” commanded Allan. Together he and Bremilu crept through the jungle toward the thicket.

Wide-eyed, yet seeing almost nothing, Allan crawled noiselessly, automatic in hand. The Merucaan slid along, silent as an Apache.

“Tell me if you see the thing again--if you see it turn!” whispered Stern. “Tell me, for you can see.”

Now the distance was cut in half; now only a third of it remained. Before Stern it seemed a fathomless pit of black was opening. Under the close-woven arches of the giant fern-trees the night was impenetrable.

And as yet he dared not dart the light-beam into that pit of darkness, for fear of precipitating an unthinkable tragedy--if, indeed, the horror had not already been cons summated.

But now Bremilu gripped his arm. Afar, on the other side of the thicket, they heard a singular commotion, cries, shouts, and the vigorous beating of the fern-trees.