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Show FORLORN ISLAND By EDISON MARSHALL Copyright by Edison MarshM! CHAPTER XI Continued 18 "Not yet. Let things quiet down first. I tlon't want to gye any nlarm until I cun slip 01T and got back safe." She drew deep breath. "What are you coins to do?" "find Klreheart, and ask her to help us." "Do you think," Nan's throat filled, but she went on bravely, "that It's worth the risk? They may be Uiylnsr for you." 'I'll bs careful. Anyway, It'i our only chance for complete victory." He listened and watched a moment more. "Nan, hold up one of the robes between me and the lamp. I'm goins to make a hole and sneak away." She obeyed without protest: soon the aperture would admit his body. "Put the clods back when I get out, so they won't see the lljjht." he directed. di-rected. "If they find the hole anyway, any-way, and learn that I'm not here, let some light through. That will be a signal of danger." Apparently he meant to go on his perilous errand without a word of farewell, and she made no move to stay him. nut at last, when his spear was ready In his hand, he swayed toward her with hungry lips. "Good luck, Eric," she whispered, her mouth moving against his. "Good luck, sweetheart. Don't worry about me, just sit tight till I get back, and If you need me, yell at the top of your lungs. I'll keep an eye out anyway, and if I see they're about to attack. I'll come-a-running." At once he slipped throngh the aperture. Hovering close to the turf-wall, turf-wall, he surveyed the ground. I.uck seemed to be with him. Two of San-domar's San-domar's gang stood on guard, but they were In front of the hut door, and by ducking into the shadow of the next house he thought he could steal away unseen. Not a pebble rattled under his feet as he crept down the village row to the chapel. Bright moonlight spread before the entrance, hut Eric crossed It boldly. He found Fireheart kneeling before the ikon, lost in some old service passed down by a long-dead priest. She sprang to her feet, trembling. "Why you no with white girl, in new house?" she demanded. "I'm In trouble." Eric answered gravely. "I've come to you for help." The squaw's lip curled. "You come to Fireheart? She just ugly squaw. Why you no go to white girl? She your wife, she help you plenty." "I want you to help her, too. The trouble has come to us all." "Me help white girl?" Her voice had a metallic rattle. "Fireheart no-love no-love her no-love you. too. You get out trouble best you can." Eric turned to go. "I'd hoped you'd be a friend to me, as I've been a friend to all your people." The squaw's hand leaped out, like a salmon striking, and clutched his wrist. "What trouble come? Fireheart Fire-heart feel good to know. Sandomar maybe steal wife?" "Sandomar has found out the little gun won't shoot." "Little gun no shoot?" Her slim breast swelled. "It hasn't been any good since the night I shot Swede." "And you boss whole island Sandomar Sando-mar Aleut everybody with pretend?" pre-tend?" "Yes, but they've found me out. Sandomar means to kill me and take Nan." Briefly, grimly, he explained the whole situation. Her somber gaze stole again and again to his face. The tendons stood out on her dark, unlovely hands. "You go back Horton's hut?" "Right now." "Then I go,. and call hunters here. I tell 'em about little gun they be plenty mad. They no like you you make 'em work boss 'em hard they glad you get In trouble. Guess maybe may-be they like go see Sandomar kill you." Eric moved to make a last appeal, but the squaw's drawn face and smoldering smol-dering eyes repelled him. His hope flickered and died. Turning to the door, he made a brief survey of the moonlit ridge, then crept away. All that remained now was to carry the ill news to his friends, rally them the best he could, and lead them to some more advantageous battleground for a last, desperate stand. Disheartened, he moved less furtive-ly, furtive-ly, pausing but briefly to reconnolter, along the village row. His fighting edge seemed dulled. His brain felt like a clod Inside his skull, he could not remember the rattling pebbles under un-der his feet. Anyway, the coast appeared ap-peared cleai If his enemies had discovered dis-covered his errand, they would be waiting for him in the shadow of Horton's Hor-ton's hut. not here. He stole on, his guard lowered Hut he had not reckoned on Snndo-inar'a Snndo-inar'a weird liiti'lllgriH-e, Cargo's cun nlng. They hud foreseen that he might try to enlist Kliohcart Just too late to stop III in and hail guessed by what route ho would return. As he dipped through the Inky shadow of n midway mid-way turf house, a vengeful patient, foe came Into his own. Eric had walked Into a trap. Nor could ho break free again; heavy shoulders smote his side, and strong arms encircled his thighs. Before ho could turn to tight, H second assailant leaped on his hack and caught him around the nock; ami n third, on the opposite side, wrenched tho spear from his hand. Their combined weight hurled him headlong ; the darkness was streaked with fire. It was a savage, silent attack; hut some cool mind far within his reeling reel-ing hoad was astonished at Its repressed re-pressed power. Why didn't these foes Impale hlin quickly on their spears, while they had the chance? Why were they so careful with him, not striking hi in with their fists, anxious not to knock him senseless, nicely measuring their violence to hold hi in fast but not to break his bones? If this was mercy, It was a strange kind. It was as though they wished to keep him fresh for some revelry to follow. Yet he thanked them In his heart. When his break came, he would need every ounce of strength they would spare him. When two of them held him while the third lashed his wrists, he made no futile struggle. They hauled him to his feet, and In grim haste led him toward the beach. Only when they emerged full under moonlight did he recognize his captorsSydney cap-torsSydney Bill and the two Smiths. They were breathing hard, through sot teeth a sign Eric feared. His vitals cold, his head swimming, his temples dripping sweat, Eric could not at once credit the scene on the beach. It had the uncanny quality of a dream: silence, grayness, timeless-ness, timeless-ness, and the difficulty of telling what was alive, what was dead. The rocks, the sleepy sea, and the moonlit strand seemed to share the same repressed, sinister animation abiding In Snndo-mar's Snndo-mar's Impassive frame. Sandomar sat on a boulder, his paws In his lap, the moonlight In his brutish eyes. Back of him stood Carge, and for a long time neither made a move, said a word. Cooky and PetrofT were dark shapes squatting on the sand, somehow grotesque, ominous. There was a silvery glint on the crags, a witehlight over the sea. The waves rolled up dreamily and lapped the pebbled strand; the wind whispered, sobbed softly, died away. Fabulous rubies glowed in the ashes of the supper fire. At last Sandomar's monotone streamed into the silence. "I see you caught him." "Just where you said he'd be," Sydney Syd-ney Bill answered, in hushed tones. "So I'll try him," Sandomar went on,, unaware that Sydney Bill had spoken. "Garge get him ready." The little cockney came weaving across the sand. There was something horribly exultant in the lightness of his step, the position of his hands. He held a spear-thong tied In a noose, which he dropped loosely over the prisoner's head. Holding the end, he slashed with his knife the ropes binding bind-ing Eric's wrists. At the same time. Little Smith raked up the coals of the supper fire and threw on fresh fuel. Eric's brain was clearing, now. His eyes moved in their sockets as he sized up the ground. But there was no chance or shadow of chance for escape. es-cape. At his first move, the noose about his throat would jerk tight, and Big Smith's ready spear would whiz down. He waited quietly. "You showed us how to hold court, so don't blame us If we learned the lesson well," Sandomar went on, with somber dignity. "You're charged with the killing of Swede. You'll remember remem-ber that Swede lay just about where you're standing now. Garge, you speak for the prisoner." Garge took a step forward ; In the spreading firelight his face looked sharp and pinched as a starved rat's. "I don't think we ought to be too 'ard on this 'ere prisoner," he began, his tone dripping with malice. "I think all we ought to do to 'im Is cool Ira off." There was a long breathless pause. "How you goin' about to do that. Garge?" Cooky asked. Plainly this was part of a mock trial rehearsed beforehand. be-forehand. "We'll just tie 'im 'and and foot, and lay him down on the tide flat. The tide's just turning In, and It will cool 'im off proper In the next six hours." "Your plea for mercy for the prisoner pris-oner is granted," Sandomar said, just as though Garge's venom had entered his dead ears. "Ericssen, you've given us some cold nights, but it's your turn now." "He'll flop around enough to keep warm, when the water gets up to 'is mouth." Garge rasped. "Smith, get him ready. Then you and Sydney Bill carry him down." This was no jest The two executioners execu-tioners moved toward the condemned, a pitiless shine In their eyes. In twenty twen-ty seconds more he would be helpless, help-less, his doom written, his cause lost, the girl he loved slated for suicide or worse. Now, In this swift Interval of time, lay his only fighting chance. His mind surged free from the murk of terror and pain. Instantly he was cold, steady, resourceful as never In his life. His strong instinct of self-preservation self-preservation flashed like a shore-light through the gloom, orienting him, leading lead-ing him on. He raised his hand in a commanding command-ing gesture. Some echo of his lost power stopped Smith and Bill in their tracks. "You pack of cowards I" His vole rumbled along th deserted strand. "I'll fight any one of you for my life." Ills gaze moved slowly from face to face, but he found no manly prldn, only thwarted haired, mob fury. There was no hope here. Tho very cowardice cow-ardice of those who heard him was his doom. The waves lapped the shore, and the moon cast her sinister spell, as ho waited for an answer in vain. But there was one of his enemies who had not heard the challenge. For him, sound did not exist and for reasons rea-sons of his own, Garge's nimble fingers still hung motionless. "Garge, tell Sandomar that If he's not a coward, he'll fight me man to man," Eric said with stinging contempt. con-tempt. The ratty face seemed to weazen. Eric's faculties wore protornaturally keen, fighting for his life, or they would have never taken warning from the Instant's paralysis of the little, delicate hand. Then he saw It rise boldly up, the fingers wiggling like the legs of a water spider. With a suffocating heart, Eric watched Sandomar's face. All he asked now, flickering hope at best, was one gleam of human nnger In the deep-set eyes, an Instant's baring of the simian fangs. But the dark visage stayed a brutish mask. The great limp hands never quivered. It was a cruelly effective answer. It Implied a whale's Indifference to the snarls of a polar bear, a supremacy of strength beyond need of test. Ills henchmen squared their shoulders. Their looks grew savagely exultant. They could work their will on their prisoner now, with many a grim Jest, nnd no flush of shame on their drawn cheeks. . . . He was not the Person of the Law, but only a man! like themselves not the Island king by right of worth, but a cold bluffer, a cheat. . . . Eric's blood rippled cold as the moonlight on the tide. But suddenly It shot down his reins like liquid fire. . . . Even Sandomar could not be so Inhumanly strong. . . . Eric remembered the strange deeps of Garge's love. ne whirled on the little cockney with an oath. "You didn't tell him what I said !" "You're a liar !" Sandomar leaned forward on his boulder, his dead ears pricking np In vain. "What's going on?" he demanded. It was more like a savage bark, than a man's voice. But Garge dared not tell him. Desperate, Des-perate, he pulled the thong to throttle his enemy. Eric saw his wrist twitch Just In time. His right hand grasped the thong, holding It slack. Beside him, Eig Smith flung back his spear, but Eric could not combat this, or even glance nt It Playing his luck, he stood motionless and the point slowly fell. "You let Sandy alone." Garge spoke In bitter anguish, his hand on his knife-hilt "If you don't, I'll carve your heart " Ignoring him, Eric stooped and began be-gan to smooth off the sand between, himself and Sandomar. Perhaps no act of his life demanded colder nerve than this, to take down his guard In the ring of the hungry pack. Then, with his right hand still grasping the thong, the fingers of his left forming a pencil, he wrote immense letters in the sand : COWARD There was no sound but the whispering whis-pering wind, the lapping waves. The sailors stared at the great Indictment, stretching ten feet acros3 the beach, then looked furtively at their master. Sandomar rose slowly, with repressed re-pressed strength. The jungle eyes lighted, the long arms hung bowed. "I didn't understand you before," he muttered. "I do not hear and Garge cheated me. Yon ask to fight me man to man?" Eric nodded. "I'll give yon what you ask, but you'll wish you'd chosen the tide. With weapons, or empty hands?" Eric feared the terrible paws to th marrow of his bones, so he pointed tt Smith's spear. Sandomar shook his head. "I an. not handy with a spear." Then, turning turn-ing to Sydney Bill: "Get two tomahawks." toma-hawks." Three of the men were armed wits these stone-age weapons, heavy, sharp flints lashed to stout shafts, and Bill presented them quickly. "Let Ericssen take his choice," the dull voice ran on. "He'll need that little advantage." He stood inert, a grotesque, forlorn, and tragic figure, while Eric weighed the two weapons and chose the lighter. "Now take off his noose, and stand back. No matter mat-ter what happens stand back. If that little monkey of mine tries to Interfere, break his jaw." The gorilla lumbered forward ; the monkey and the wolves drew back. With wings on his feet and cold rapture in his heart Eric came weaving In. . . . Mind and all It means versus Might. Law opposed to Chaos. Bright-faced Man, slim, young, erect, eagerly listening against the ancient Jungle, stooped of shoulder, dark and low of brow, deaf to the far calls on the wind. (TO BE CONTINUED.) |