The Web of the Golden Spider

by Frederick Orin Bartlett

  CHAPTER XXII

  _The Taste of Rope_

  Stubbs was lying flat upon his chest staring anxiously down into thefissure where Wilson had disappeared when suddenly he felt a weightupon his back and another upon each of his outstretched arms. In spiteof this, he reached his knees, but the powerful brown men still clung.He shook himself as a mad bull does at the sting of the darts. It wasjust as useless. In another minute he was thrown again, and inanother, bound hand and foot with a stout grass rope. Without a word,as though he were a slain deer, he was lifted to their shoulders andignominiously carted down the mountain side. It was all so quicklydone that he blinked back at the sun in a daze as though awaking fromsome evil dream. But his uncomfortable position soon assured him thatit was a reality and he settled into a sullen rage. He had beencaptured as easily as a drunken sailor is shanghaied.

  They never paused until they lowered him like a bundle of hay within adozen feet of where he had tethered his burros. Instantly he heard afamiliar voice jabbering with his captors. In a few minutes thePriest himself stepped before him and studied him curiously as herolled a cigarette.

  "Where is the other?" he asked.

  "Find him," growled Stubbs.

  "Either I or the Golden One will find him,--that is certain. There isbut one pass over the mountain," he added in explanation.

  "Maybe. What d' ye want of us, anyway?"

  The Priest flicked the ashes from his cigarette.

  "What did _you_ want--by the hut yonder? Your course lay anotherway."

  "Ain't a free man a right up there?"

  "It is the shrine of the Golden One."

  "It ain't marked sech."

  "But you have learned--now. It is better in a strange country to learnsuch things before than afterwards."

  "The same to you--'bout strange people."

  The Priest smoked idly a few minutes longer.

  "Where is the other?" he asked again.

  "Ask your Golden Man."

  "He knows only the dead. Shall I wait?"

  "Jus' as you damned please," growled Stubbs.

  He saw no use in trying to pacify this devil. Even if he had seen ahope, it would have gone too much against him to attempt it. He feltthe same contempt for him that he would of a mutinous sailor; he wasjust bad,--to be beaten by force and nothing else.

  The yellow teeth showed between the thin lips.

  "The bearded men are like kings until--they lie prostrate likeslaves."

  Stubbs did not answer. His thoughts flew back to Wilson. He picturedhis return to find his partner gone. Would he be able to climb out ofthat ill-fated hole without aid? It was possible, but if he succeeded,he might fall into worse hands. At any cost he must turn suspicionaside from that particular spot. Apparently it had as yet no especialsignificance, if its existence were known at all, to the natives.

  "My partner," said Stubbs, deliberately, "has gone to find the girl."

  "And you waited for him--up there in the sun?"

  "Maybe."

  "He had better have remained with you."

  "There would have been some dead niggers if he had."

  "My friend," said the Priest, "before morning I shall know if you havetold the truth this time. In the meanwhile I shall leave you in thecompany of my children. I hope you will sleep well."

  "D' ye mean to keep me tied like this till morning?"

  "I see no other way."

  "Then damn your eyes if----"

  But he bit off the phrase and closed his eyes against the grinningface before him. As a matter of fact, he had made a discovery whichbrought with it a ray of hope. He found that with an effort he wasable to bring his teeth against the rope where it passed over hisshoulder. His hands were tied behind his back, but with the slack hewould gain after gnawing through the rope, he would be able to loosenthem. They had taken his revolver, but they had overlooked the huntingknife he always carried within his shirt suspended from his neck--aprecaution which had proved useful to him before. The very thing henow hoped for was that they would leave him as he was.

  The Priest departed and did not appear again. The three brown mensettled down on their haunches and fell into that state of Indianlethargy which they were able to maintain for days, every senseresting but still alert. With their knees drawn up to their chins theychewed their coca leaves and stared at their toes, immovable asimages. Stubbs looked them over; they did not appear to be strong men.Their arms and legs were rounded like those of women, and their chestswere thin. He wondered now why he had not been able to shake themoff.

  Stubbs settled back to wait, but every now and then he deliberatelytossed, turning from his back to his side and again to his back. Hehad two objects in mind; to keep the watchmen alert so that the strainwould tell eventually in dulled senses, and to throw them off theirguard when the time came that the movements really meant something.But they never even looked up; never shifted their positions. Each hadby his side a two-edged sword, but neither revolver nor rifle. His ownWinchester still lay in the grass near the hut, if they had not stolenit.

  In this way several hours passed before he made the first movetowards escape. They gave him neither water nor nourishment. So hewaited until dark. Then he turned his head until his teeth rested uponthe rope. He remained in this position without moving for ten minutesand then slowly, carefully began to nibble. The rope was finely knitand as tough as raw hide. At the end of a half hour he had scarcelymade any impression at all upon it. At the end of an hour he hadstarted several strands. The wiry threads irritated his lips andtongue so that they soon began to bleed, but this in turn softened therope a trifle. The three brown men never stirred. The stars lookeddown impartially upon the four; also upon the girl by the lake and theman in the cave. It was all one to them.

  He gnawed as steadily and as patiently as a rat. Each nibble soonbecame torture, but he never ceased save to toss a bit that the guardsmight not get suspicious. The dark soon blurred their outlines, but hehad fixed their positions in his mind so that he could have reachedthem with his eyes shut. At the end of the third hour he had made hisway half through the rope. It took him two hours more to weaken onehalf of the remainder. The pain was becoming unendurable. He quiveredfrom head to foot each time he moved his jaw, for his lips were tornto the quick. His tongue was shredded; his chest damp with blood.Finally he ceased. Then carefully, very carefully, threw back hisshoulders so as to bring a strain to the rope. He felt it pull apart,and sank to rest a bit.

  Apparently he lay without moving. The brown men were like dead men.But inch by inch he had drawn the rope slack until he was able tounwind it from his wrists. Then by half inches he moved his handsfree, slipping one of them from behind him to his side. It seemed tohim as though Nature herself had paused to watch and listen. He turnednow with his free hand beneath him. Slowly his fingers crept towardshis chest, grasped the sheath, freed the blade, and then back to hisside once more. He turned to his back, his hand behind him, hisfingers grasping the horn handle.

  His feet were still bound, but he figured that he could raise himselfto a sitting posture and sever these with a single slash at the momenthe sprang. But he must be quick--must be strong--must be calm. To thisend he stretched himself upon his back and waited. If he were able tokill the first man with a single blow, he felt he would stand morethan an equal chance with the two others. He was an adept in the useof the knife.

  In a flash he was upright; in another he had cut through the rope onhis ankles. He leaped forward, striking deep as his feet touched theearth. The knife sank to the hilt in the brown body. One of the otherswas reaching for his sword as Stubbs struck home again. But as he drewout his knife, the third was rushing for him with his long sword inhis hands. He never reached him. With the skill of long experience,Stubbs threw his knife with the speed of an arrow from a bow. Itstruck the man just above the heart and he stumbled over his own feet.Stubbs melted into the shadow of the trees.

  Once out of sight of the scene of this struggle, he stopped andlis
tened. If this were all of them, there were several things he wouldget before he returned to the heights. A light breeze rustled theheavy tops above him, but otherwise the world seemed sound asleep.There was not the cracking of a twig--not the movement of a shadow. Heventured back. The three forms, save that they had settled intoawkward positions, looked very much as they had a few minutes ago whenthey had stood between him and freedom. He passed them, stopping torecover his knife, and then moved on to where he had hidden theprovisions. He took a rope, a can of beef, some crackers, and a smallquantity of coca leaves. Then he went to the spring nearby and soothedhis sore throat and mouth with water. He also filled a quart flaskwhich he tied behind him. Returning to the cache, he covered it upagain and, placing a roll of the coca leaves beneath his tongue,started on the ascent.

  The dawn was just appearing in a flush of pink when he reached thetop. A reconnaissance of the rocks around the hut and at the entranceto the crevice convinced him that no guards had been left here.Evidently the Priest had not thought their capture of supremeimportance. It was more an act of precaution than anything else.

  He felt more refreshed at the top of the peak than he had at thebottom and, wondering at this, it suddenly occurred to him that thiswas the effect of the coca leaves. He had heard in Bogova that thenatives under its influence were able to endure incredible hardshipswithout other nourishment of any kind. He took a larger mouthful. Atany rate, they acted as balm upon his tongue and macerated lips. Hefelt no inclination to rest. Even had he felt fatigue, his anxietyover Wilson would have forbidden further delay.

  He fastened one end of his rope securely about a point of rock andthen sat down to study the map once more. He realized that he wouldneed the help of every detail of these directions. Already he hadcommitted them to memory,--he was calmer than Wilson about it and sohad remembered them better,--but he went over them once more. Therewas more than treasure at stake this time.

  He lowered himself into the crevice which had swallowed up hiscompanion, with almost a sense of relief at being for the momentbeyond the power of the Priest. He was tempted to cut the rope behindhim, but a brief examination convinced him that this would befoolhardy. He still had sufficient left for an emergency--in case therope was drawn up from above. Two men should stand a better chance ofgetting out of here than would a single man.

  At the end of the first ten feet along the narrow path Stubbs feltmuch less confident than at the start that Wilson was alive. And heworked his way along the dangerous course with increasing fear. Itwas with a gasp of relief that he finally saw the opening ahead of himwhich marked the end. He paused to shout. He received no reply. Hecalled his comrade's name again. The dark walls about him caught hisvoice and imprisoned it.

  Taking new risks, he pushed ahead. To the left he saw the cave mouth.He stopped once more, half fearing what he should find, and ran theremaining steps. At the entrance to the cave itself he stumbled over aprostrate body.