The Sign of the Spider

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  "A DEEP--A SOLITARY GRAVE."

  They were now on the other slope of the great mountain chain which shutin the Ba-gcatya country on that side, and, judging by the landmarks, itseemed to Laurence that the surroundings wore an aspect not absolutelyunfamiliar, and that they could not be far out of the way by which hehad been brought in a captive. There was the same broad belt of desolateland which took many days to traverse--a land of gloomy forest andsluggish river, reed-fringed, crocodile-haunted; and night after nightthey would build their camp-fire, resting secure in the red circle ofits cheery flame--while the howling of ravening beasts kept up dismalchorus in the outer darkness beyond. It was a primeval idyll, thewandering of these two--the man, the product of the highest_fin-de-siecle_ civilization; the woman, the daughter of a savage race.Yet in such wandering, savage and civilized were curiously near akin.They were free as air--untrammelled by any conventionality or artificialneeds. The land furnished ample subsistence, animal and vegetable. Thewild game which supplied them with food could not have been more free.

  "Would you rather have been rescued some other way, Nyonyoba?" said thegirl one evening, as they were sitting by the camp-fire.

  "No. There is no other way I should have preferred. See now, Lindela.What if we were to return to your people? Surely they would believe nowin the Sign of the Spider--and that the conqueror is greater than theconquered?"

  "Not so," she answered, and her eyes, which had brightened at the firstwords of his reply, became clouded and sad. "They would put us to deathnow--both of us. But were it otherwise--would you really desire toreturn?"

  "One might do worse. I don't know that the blessings of civilization aresuch blessings after all, which to you is a riddle."

  He relapsed into silence and thought. There were times when, with theriches upon him, he was consumed with a perfectly feverish longing toreturn to civilization. There were other times, again, when he lookedback with more than a lingering regret to the pleasant land of theBa-gcatya. Furthermore, Lindela had entwined herself around his heartmore than he knew. Not an atom of the intrepidity of devotion she haddisplayed in order to compass his final rescue was thrown away uponhim--any more than her deportment since. Through the toilsomeness andperil of their journeying no word of complaint or despondency escapedher. She was always sunny-natured, cheerful, self-sacrificing,resourceful--in short, a delightful companion. Yet--she was a savage, hethought, with a curl of the lip, as before his mind's eye arose thecontrast between her and her civilized sisters, with their artificialityand moods and caprices, and petty spites and fictitious ailments, andgeneral contentiousness all around. It was by no means certain he wouldnot have returned to dwell with her among her own people, had thatcourse been open--but it was not. Only the return to civilization laybefore him; and what to do with Lindela--for he had not the slightestdesire to part with her.

  Meanwhile they had reached the perilous phase of their wanderings. Ruinsof multitudinous villages lay in their path at every turn, but, what wasworse, signs of human occupation began to show once more, and humanoccupation meant hostile occupation. It was fortunate that the land hadbeen doubly raided--by the slave-hunters and the Ba-gcatya--because inits depopulation lay their safety. But those who had escaped would notbe likely to view with any friendly glance a representative of eachdespoiling factor, as exemplified in these two. So they avoidedvillages, which was easy enough by careful observation ahead. What wasless easy, however, was to avoid wandering parties.

  Nor was it always practicable. Once they came right into such ahorde--near enough, that is, for their presence to be discovered, andfor a whole day were they stealthily followed, their pursuers onlydrawing off owing to nightfall and the proximity of other tribes hostileto themselves. Another time they nearly walked into the midst of anencampment while a cannibal feast was in progress. At sight of the humanlimbs hung up, the filed teeth and tattooed faces of these savagestearing at their horrible repast, Lindela shuddered with repulsion andanger.

  "See there, Nyonyoba," she said, when they had withdrawn beyondhearing, "do not the Ba-gcatya act rightly in stamping out these foul_Izima_--who devour the flesh of their own kindred, like wild dogs?"

  "I think so. And we, who capture them to sell them, do we not send themto a better fate, where they can no more indulge in such repellentappetites?" And this she did not attempt to gainsay.

  For months they journeyed on thus, peril their companion at every step,the more so as they gained the more inhabited tracts. Once they fell inwith a petty Arab chief and his following. This man was known toLaurence, and treated them well and hospitably while they remained athis camp. But before they departed he said:

  "What sum will purchase this girl, my friend, for by now thou must havehad enough of her? She would fetch large money at Khartoum, whither Ican forward her, and I will deal with thee fairly. Yes, Allah is great.I will only make my profit on her. The price shall be liberal."

  Then Laurence Stanninghame, the renegade, the man who had thrown allconsiderations of duty and feeling to the winds as so much lumber, somuch meaningless conventionality, felt as shocked and disgusted as everhe could have done in his most foolish days, what time illusions were asvivid, as golden as ever. But, remembering himself, he replied in aneven tone:

  "No sum will purchase her, Rahman ben Zuhdi. Were I dying at thismoment, and large wealth could bring me fifty years more of life, Iwould not sell her. All that the world contains could not purchase her,for she has restored me to life at the peril of her own, again andagain,--nay, more, has restored me to that which alone renders life apossession of any value. I have dealt in slaves, but this is a daughterof a race of kings.

  "The People of the Spider," said the Arab thoughtfully, flashing acurious glance at Lindela, who stood some little way apart. "They growtheir women fine if they are all as this one. Well, I did but make theethe offer, my brother; but if a man values anything above gold, all thegold in the world will not induce him to part therewith. Fare thee well.We part friends."

  "As friends indeed do we part, O Rahman," replied Laurence. And theyresumed their respective ways.

  As time went on, Lindela's manner seemed to undergo a change--herspirits to flag. Was it the fearful malarial heat of the low-lyingforest country, often swampy, which was affecting her? thought Laurencewith concern. He himself was inured to it, but this daughter of ahealthy upland race, accustomed to the breezy, equable climate of hermountain home--on her the steaming heat of the rotting vegetation andmarshy soil might conceivably be beginning to tell.

  They were resting one day during the noontide heat. No burning rays fromthe outside sun could scorch here, for the place was dim with thickfoliage and creepers trailing from the limbs of great forest trees. Bothhad fallen asleep.

  Suddenly Lindela started up. A sharp wringing pain, seeming to begin onthe left shoulder, went through her frame. It spread--down herarm--then through to the other shoulder--down the other arm. What wasit? A cramp caught from the treacherous chill of the humid soil?Perhaps. Well, it would soon pass. Then Laurence began to stir in hissleep. The sight made her forget her pain. He must not awaken; he neededrest. Noiselessly plucking a leafy branch she went over to him and begansoftly to fan him. This was effective. His even, regular breathing toldthat he slumbered peacefully, restfully, once more.

  Soon she became aware that her powers were failing her. Her arm seemedto become cramped, paralyzed, and a mist floated before her eyes. Whatdid it mean? Her lips opened to call aloud--then closed, uttering nosound. Why should he be disturbed because she was suffering a littlepain? thought this savage--this daughter of a race of savage kings.

  But the mist deepened before her failing vision. She swayed where shesat, then fell heavily forward--upon him--the branch wherewith she hadbeen fanning him striking him sharply across the face.

  Laurence sprang to his feet, unconsciously throwing her from him. Hisfirst impression was that he had been surprised in his sleep by anenemy.


  "Lindela! What is it?" he cried, raising her up and supporting her. Andthen his dark face turned a livid ashen white--for with the dull stuporwhich lay heavy in the usually bright eyes, his own had rested uponsomething else. The shapely shoulder was swollen to an abnormal size,and at the back of it were two small round punctures.

  "She has been bitten. A snake, of course," he muttered. "And it is toolate."

  "Yes, it is too late, Nyonyoba," she murmured. "Yet I do not think Ihave been bitten--not by a snake, or I should have known it."

  "But you have been. When was this? Why did you not awaken me?" And hisvoice startled even himself, so fierce was it in its grief.

  "Why should I awaken you, beloved, you who needed rest?" she murmured,groping for his hand. "Yes, it is too late. It was some time ago. Ithought it was a cramp, but I must have been bitten."

  Laurence was thinking--and thinking hard. What remedy was there? None.It was even as she had said--too late. The poison had penetrated herwhole system.

  "I am dying, beloved--and shall soon go into the Dark Unknown----" shemurmured, more drowsily than before. "Yet it matters nothing, for thoseof our nation do not fear death. And listen. I heard the Arab's proposalto you, and your answer thereto--yet, when you returned to your people,what would have become of me?"

  "I AM DYING, BELOVED--AND SHALL SOON GO INTO THE DARKUNKNOWN."]

  She was but voicing his own thoughts of many and many a time before. Yetnow Laurence felt almost startled. Was it the clear intuition whichrightly or wrongly is believed to accompany the hour of dissolution?Then he remembered she could have learned much about civilized peoplesthrough the talk of Tyisandhlu and her father.

  "I die, beloved, but I welcome death," she went on,--"for I havelived--ah, yes, I have lived. I feel no pain now, and I die in yourarms. Surely my _itongo_[7] will not weep mournfully on the voices ofthe night as others do; surely it will laugh for very joy, for verylove, because of this my end, until time shall die--will it not,Nyonyoba, my beloved? Say--will it not?"

  But Laurence could not say anything, for, lo--a marvel. This man,deadened for long years to feeling or ruth; this coldly pitilesstrafficker in the sufferings of human beings; in whose cynical creed nowsuch a love as that of this savage girl held no place--felt now asthough a hand were gripping him by the throat, choking all power ofreply. And the call of birds, high among the tree-tops, alone broke thesilence, in the semi-gloom of the forest aisles.

  Lindela's voice had sunk until it was well-nigh inaudible, and Laurencewas constrained to bend his head to hers in order to catch her everyword. Then--a flash of gladness seemed momentarily to light up thedrowsy eyes, and she spoke no more. Her eyelids closed, her breathinggrew fainter and fainter, and soon Laurence knew that that which layheavy within his arms was no longer a living woman. Lindela had passed.

  For long he sat thus. Then a faint rustling sound in the dry wood of animmense fallen tree-trunk caught his ear. Ha!--the snake which had beenthe cause of her death! It, at any rate, should die. Gently he laid herdown, then snatching up a stick which had been used to carry one of theloads he advanced towards the sound.

  Something was struggling among the dry bark; with the stick he brokethis away. There fell out an enormous spider.

  He started back in horror and loathing. The hairy monster brought backtoo gruesome a reminiscence. Then he noticed that it looked as if it hadreceived injury through crushing, two or three of the hideous tentaclesbeing partially or wholly broken off.

  Then, as he gazed with loathing upon the sprawling thing, it seemed thatthe missing link was supplied. Lindela, in her sleep, must have movedover on to this horror, though not heavily enough to crush it. It hadburied its venomous nippers in her shoulder, prior to crawling away todie.

  A shiver ran through his frame as he beat to death the great noisomeinsect--and his blood seemed to chill with a superstitious fear. Itseemed too strange, too marvellous to be a mere coincidence. Lindela haddefied the traditions of her race, and now she had met her death throughthe agency of the very embodiment of those traditions. She, a daughterof the Kings of the People of the Spider, had met her death through theSpider's bite. It was horrifying in its sinister appropriateness. Was itreally a thing of witchcraft? Did the Fiend have actual bodily powerhere, in "the dark places of the earth"? Had this demoniacal influencefollowed her to wreak its vengeance here, at such a distance from thehome and country to which she would return no more?

  When Laurence Stanninghame resumed his journey the next day he leftbehind him a grave--a deep, secure grave--a solitary grave in the heartof the untrodden forest. His journeyings henceforth must be alone; butofttimes his thoughts would go back to that nameless grave, and to herwho rested forever therein. Only a savage! Only a heathen! Yes--but ifbrave, devoted, self-sacrificing love is of any account at all in thescheme of Christian virtues, where would this savage, this heathen, comein at the day of awards? Where indeed, among the multitude ofgold-worshipping, form-adoring Pharisees? Truth to tell, Laurencebelieved but dimly in the day of awards. Yet did it exist, he thought heknew the answer to his own question.

  FOOTNOTE:

  [7] Tutelary spirit.