King Kong (1932)

by Delos W. Lovelace

  He sketched his plan in as few words as he could manage.

  "Right!" Driscoll agreed. "I'll stay. You go for the guns and bombs."

  "You'd better get across the ravine," Denham said. "But we won't cross unless we have to. If that brute back of us will only get it into his crazy head that we aren't the ones who hurt him we'll be saved a big walk."

  As Driscoll started across the giant log Denham looked down. The ravine was very deep, with a thick deposit of mud and slime at the bottom. Alongside this reeking deposit, and indeed all the way up the steep sides, were narrow mouthed caves and long, jagged fissures in the rock. Denham looked up from all this to watch Driscoll's progress with silent anxiety. He sighed when the mate got across.

  "Good boy!" he called. "I'd have felt funny, Jack, if you had started to slip. That place down there is the breeding spot for the rottenest thing on this foul island. Look!"

  As though exorcised by his pointing finger, a spider like a keg on many legs came crawling out of a cave. It may not have been aware of the watchers on the high margin of the ravine, but everyone would have sworn the thing stared up malevolently. Something which would have been a lizard except for its size lay warming itself on a sunny ledge. The spider moved toward it, then thought better of the impulse and looked about for smaller prey. This was provided by a round, crawling object with tentacles like those of an octopus. The spider crawled to the attack. Both octopus-insect and spider vanished into a fissure.

  "I'm not going to cross that log with those things under me," a sailor announced.

  Denham looked back. The tricerotop, in its shortsighted fashion, was blundering about at the edge of the trees. It had taken some time to lurch through the narrow woods, and now did not seem to know which way to go.

  "Maybe we won't have to," he said. "Stand fast. If we don't move, that half-blind brute may think we're rocks or tree trunks."

  The tricerotop broke past the last of the trees, moved uncertainly and finally began a slow advance, its great horned head lifted high, its deep-set eyes peering forward.

  "That settles it," Denham said reluctantly. "We'll have to cross."

  Obedient to his motioning hand, the men moved out onto the long bridge. They moved cautiously, because of what crawled far below their uncertain feet. Hurrying them as much as he could, Denham looked back at the tricerotop, picked up a rock and then threw the useless thing away. The men were grouped close together in the center of the log, advancing slowly. Denham stepped forward.

  "Look out!"

  On the opposite side Driscoll stood motioning frantically toward the ground sloping behind him. He motioned again, and with a last shout caught a vine at the edge of the ravine, swung down to a ledge and flung himself into a shallow cave.

  Kong came lumbering up the slope, and at sight of the men on the log roared out and beat his chest. Stopping at a lightning-riven tree he placed Ann's unconscious form in a notch as high up as his great arms could reach and then lunged forward to attack this new enemy so unexpectedly appearing to threaten possession of his bright-haired prize. Still angry from his earlier fight with the tricerotops, he was doubly enraged now by the men. And at the further sight of the three-horned beast charging toward the ravine his rage broke all bounds.

  Denham followed Driscoll's example and slid over the edge of the ravine into a fissure on his side. The men on the log could do nothing. To advance against Kong was impossible. To retreat was no less so, for the tricerotop, sighting his old foe, rushed up to the end of the log and bellowed a challenge. Denham and Driscoll, from their caves, watched the tragedy helplessly.

  To Kong all moving beings in his vision were enemies, the men on the log as much as the beast behind it. He roared and beat his breast again. One of his great handlike feet reached out as though he meant to attack at close quarters. At that moment a maddened plunge of the tricerotop brought the beast jarringly against its end of the bridge. The men in the center clung frantically. The beast-god gave his own end of the log an experimental shake, and when the men cried out and clung to the bark, to one another, he began to chatter.

  Driscoll, from his cave, shouted menacingly. Kong caught sight of him, took a half step away from the log, but in the end refused to be diverted. Denham tried the effect of a rock, but that went unnoticed. Ignoring shouts and rocks, ignoring even the bellowed defiance of the tricerotop, Kong curved both forearms under his end of the log and straining upward got it off the ground and jerked it violently from side to side.

  Two of the men lost their holds. One grasped madly at the face of a prone comrade and left bloody finger marks as he went whirling down into the decaying silt at the bottom. He had no more than struck when the lizard flashed upon him. Driscoll, watching, hoped that the complete lack of movement meant unconsciousness, or, better, that death had come immediately. The second man did not die in the fall. He was not even unconscious. He landed feet first, sinking immediately to his waistline in the mud, and screamed horribly as not one but half a dozen of the great spiders swarmed over him.

  Up on the edge of the ravine the tricerotop stamped the ground. Getting no notice from his adversary across the gap he bellowed uncertainly and began backing up. With a last bellow he wheeled around and lumbered toward the trees.

  Kong lifted the log and jerked it again. Another man fell, prey for a new outpouring of spiders. Another jerk, and the octopus-insect, along with a score of companions, began to fight against the spiders and the lizards for the booty. Only one man was left on the log and he clung desperately. Kong jerked, but could not shake him loose. Nor could all the despairing efforts of Driscoll and Denham, all their shouts, all their rocks, turn the beast-god from his purpose. The clinging man shrieked. Kong glowered down upon him and in a culminating exasperation swung the log far sideways and dropped it. The end caught on the very edge of the ravine and then slipped slowly off to drop like a battering ram upon the insects at their feast below.

  Driscoll, looking down in horror, found himself menaced. A spider was climbing the heavy vine which hung in front of the cave and by means of which the mate had got over the edge of the ravine. Its lidless, protruding eyes of no describable color looked up unblinkingly. Driscoll drew his knife and hacked desperately. Before the vine parted the spider had got so close that its soft exhalation was audible to the mate as it plunged back into the ravine, reaching futilely at other vines.

  Cold and shaking from the tragedy he had witnessed and had been unable to avert, Driscoll nevertheless put his mind to the rescue of Ann.

  "You go along," he called to Denham, "I'll stay here until that hairy brute clears out and then I'll follow him. You come back with bombs and something to bridge the ravine. I'll try to mark a plain trail."

  "I feel rotten, leaving you," Denham shouted back.

  "It's the one chance. Shove off!" Driscoll called impatiently.

  He was so intent upon speeding Denham's departure that he was not aware of Kong's great questing hand until the director shouted a warning.

  The beast-god had come to squat at the edge of the ravine and feel down into the cave for this other of his enemies. Driscoll backed up, and drawing his knife, stabbed shrewdly into Kong's dusty, hairless palm. The beast-god jerked away and roared. Denham threw a rock. Kong brushed the spot on his breast where the missile had struck and groped down again into the cave.

  This time he snatched quickly, missed and got clear. He snatched again, and again missed. Enraged, he thrust his hand deep into the cave and began a slow groping search. Driscoll stabbed, but the beast-god ignored the wounds. He ignored Denham's rocks, too.

  Driscoll crouched in his shallow wall, stabbing hopelessly at every chance. Twice the huge, curving fingers touched him; twice he dug his knife in and got away. Now he was in a corner from which the swinging hand barred escape. If he could cut the tendons at wrist or elbow, he might gain at least a moment. Crouching low, making himself as small as possible, he gripped his knife and watched for an opening....

&nbs
p; Chapter Thirteen

  The vague hurt of the riven branch grew to sharp pain as Ann came back to consciousness. She turned on one side and the wall of the notch in which she lay met her eyes. Looking up from that, she saw only the sky. Where she was, she had not the dimmest notion, and for a moment she could remember nothing. She was bruised, and shaken, and a pall of stark fear hung over her, but beyond that her brain refused to go. Almost ready to drop back into unconsciousness, she rested on her rough support and by a complete lack of motion soothed her racked body.

  Then, abruptly, a black apelike horror filled her mind and she sat up screaming. Nothing was forgotten now. She recalled the smallest details. The especially bright flame of one torch as she had stood bound upon the altar; the red eyes which had burned down upon her for one instant, closed and burned again; the great furry hand which had reached out at first so doubtfully; the hairy corded shoulder upon which she had lain in the moment before all consciousness faded; the recurring moments thereafter when she had felt herself being swung along through the forest.

  Sitting up, she discovered where she was and had a fresh immediate cause for fright. She dared not jump. The height alone was a bar but besides that, at the base of her tree, crawled a snake whose head swayed up along the trunk. Moreover, there was Kong.

  Kong crouched at the brink of a ravine. His great bulk rested on strong haunches while a long, black arm swung over the edge and groped persistently. In addition to Kong there was a third living thing.

  Out from the bushes which covered the slope below Ann's perch came a grotesque, hopping creature of very little less than Kong's own bulk. Its long slender neck scouted hungrily in every direction as it progressed upon powerful hind legs. Of forelegs it had almost none; only frail, clawlike members good for nothing save to lift food to its mouth. It was the mouth which caused Ann to scream again. Nothing she had seen was quite so horrible as that red aperture filled with pointed carnivorous teeth; and when the long neck swung in her direction she thought she was lost.

  At her scream Kong whirled about. The snake, sliding off hurriedly, got a cuff in passing, but all the beast-god's fury broke upon the huge meat-eater. Clenched hands beating a tattoo upon his deep breast, Kong lumbered to the attack.

  The meat-eater stood ground defiantly and as Kong drew close flicked out its snakelike head, teeth bared and gleaming. Kong swept the head aside and plunged in. Both creatures fell off their balance. Kong was on top and for a moment it seemed that the fight was to be finished instantly. The slim swaying neck was far too fragile to withstand for long the powerful hands closed about it. But before Kong could make his grip sure the meat-eater squeezed one thick hind leg up against his assailant's breast and thrust. Not even Kong's strength could hold on against the force of that drive. His hand grip was broken and he whirled backward, head over heels, to the brink of the ravine.

  "No!" Ann cried out. "No! No!"

  She wanted Kong to win. She had no thought that she could survive much longer the horror of captivity in his hands, but even that was preferable to the open mouth which briefly swung her way before it flicked out again to meet Kong's renewed attack.

  The beast-god lumbered back, beating his breast and indifferent to all his enemy's blows. His roaring charge carried both fighters hard against the tree in which Ann crouched and that long-tormented pedestal crashed down. Stunned by the fall, Ann lay under the main trunk. That was barely held away from her by a short spike of branch. On top of the tree, Kong and his adversary writhed until a deadly hind foot parted them again.

  The beast-god moved back promptly, but now he spent less time beating his breast to terrify an enemy which would not be terrified by such devices. He came in more deliberately. Any critical observer would have realized that Kong had met enemies of the meat-eater breed before and had worked out a technique of battle which served well when he was not too enraged to use it. Now, at last, his rage was in check. His eyes always upon the long flicking neck, he came in purposefully and at last reached, not for the head but for one of the frail forelegs. He twisted it furiously and leaped away as the meat-eater bit into his shoulder. Again he was in and again away. This time the attacked foreleg hung limp and the meat-eater was in unmistakable distress. Now Kong once more dared a frontal attack. As at first he plunged recklessly forward and fastened his black hands upon the darting neck. As before the two fell in a heap and a great hind leg thrust against Kong's chest.

  This time, however, the co-ordination was not so perfect; the force was less, and as he went whirling back Kong was able to seize the foot which drove him. That was the major advantage he had been seeking. The extended leg had so little power that he was able to twist it and spin the meat-eater over onto its stomach. In a flash Kong leaped astride his enemy's back. His knees clamped about the narrow shoulders. His great hands reached up to snatch at the open mouth. Before the meat-eater could use the powerful leverage of its hind legs to shake off its rider, the hands found their objective. They closed upon the upper and lower jaw and pulled. Nothing could have withstood such fury. The meat-eater's mouth gave in either direction and Kong leaped clear. Battering his breast exultantly, he roared and gibbered his triumph while his foe rolled and threshed upon the ground in weaker and weaker convulsions.

  When the meat-eater finally stretched out in death, Kong drew close and gazed down with loud cheeps of pleasure. He waggled the broken jaws with satisfaction and looked over toward Ann as though to invite her praise. Ann, however, could indicate neither praise nor horror. Her over-taxed emotions had once more sent her into unconsciousness. Trapped by the trunk which stood barely clear of her curving breast, she lay as motionless as the great creature Kong had killed.

  Driscoll lifted his head half above the margin of the ravine to watch. He could scarcely contain himself when Kong lumbered over and touched Ann solicitously. But he had reasoned his course out and he stood by it. Ann had come unhurt so far. Her one chance for continued safety depended upon his own ability to keep track of her and upon Kong's temper. If he managed to trail the beast-god, and if he did not provoke him to a furious outburst, Ann might be saved by the party Denham was to bring back.

  Driscoll was the more inclined to keep quiet because of his growing conviction that Kong had completely forgotten him. The apelike creature did not make a single motion back toward the cave. With all his interest focussed upon Ann, he curved his arms about the tree as he had curved them about the bridge log. Carefully, by deliberate inches, he lifted the great weight and swung it to one side. Only when it was clear of Ann did he lower it back to the ground, and then as gently as he had lifted it; and when the heavy tree-trunk was carried aside he lumbered back anxiously. As he raised Ann, his broad throat made curious consoling sounds. Carefully, and as easily as a man might have raised a doll, he rested his prize against a shoulder and turned down the slope.

  Driscoll, behind the edge of the ravine, sensed a clear purpose back of the departure. Freed at last of all pursuit, victorious over the last of a succession of enemies, Kong, the mate felt sure, was going directly now to the home he had not been able to reach before. No longer fretted by the small noisy man-things who had trailed him from the altar, safely past the morass into which the tricerotops had driven him, and secure from the hungry pursuit of the meat-eater, he was bearing his prize home.

  Driscoll clambered cautiously to firm ground. Advancing a little he made sure of Kong's line of flight and no less sure that it was not too fast for him to keep up with. Then he turned around and looked for Denham. The latter was up on the far side of the bank, waiting. At his feet lay a great coil of vine rope. He grinned down at it.

  "I got it ready while the fight was on," he said. "I figured that if Kong lost, maybe you could get Ann, and I could get one end of this to you, and we could do something."

  For the first time since he had left the village, Driscoll felt a surge of the old affection for his employer. Denham was, and no doubt about it, a man you could tie to. He got you into
trouble, plenty. But he never stopped trying to get you out.

  "The stuff may come in handy yet," he agreed, and smiled. "Leave it right there. And you shove back to the village."

  "I hate like hell to leave you, Jack."

  "What else can you do?" Driscoll asked. "The two of us can't catch Kong. We've got to have bombs to do that. You go get them. I'll mark the trail from here. And we'll save Ann as sure as anything you know."

  "I guess that's the only way out."

  "Sure it is."

  Denham stood looking at the resolute young face across the ravine.

  "O.K., Jack, good luck!" he said and wheeling around went back at a trot toward the stream from which the dinosaur had pursued them.

  "See you later - maybe," Driscoll called; and waved goodbye, as Denham vanished into the woods.

  A distant crashing sounded in the heavy brush far down the slope. Driscoll nodded. That would be Kong, headed for his hide-away. Close to the tree in which Ann had rested, lay the meat-eater's body. Already vultures were on the thing, half a dozen of them, and more were coming. From over the edge of the ravine the sharp reptilian head of a giant lizard announced that the scent of fresh food had drifted deep down to the hungry things which lived in the slime below. Driscoll shivered and went gladly on the trail of his larger enemy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The brush which grew thick upon the Plain of the Altar rose more often than not above Denham's waist as he dragged his weary feet along. Sometimes when it grew especially tall, or when he bent in a moment of unusual fatigue, it concealed him entirely. Night was well forward, too. A dozen factors made his slow-moving, exhausted figure hard to pick up, even from the high vantage point of the wall. Sharp eyes, however, were watching. The smoky flames of torches marked the niche where a dozen sailors kept vigilant guard down by the gate, ready to pull its great doors wide. Other torches, flickering on high, told of more men leaning forward to peer from the rampart And one of these last sighted the solitary walker long before he got to the cleared ground around the altar.