The Monster Men

After the escape of the girl Barunda and Ninaka had fallen out over that affair and the division of the treasure, with the result that the panglima had slipped a knife between the ribs of his companion and dropped the body overboard.

Barunda’s followers, however, had been highly enraged at the act, and in the ensuing battle which they waged for revenge of their murdered chief Ninaka and his crew had been forced to take to the shore and hide in the jungle.

With difficulty they had saved the chest and dragged it after them into the mazes of the underbrush.  Finally, however, they succeeded in eluding the angry enemy, and took up their march through the interior for the head of a river which would lead them to the sea by another route, it being Ninaka’s intention to dispose of the contents of the chest as quickly as possible through the assistance of a rascally Malay who dwelt at Gunung Tebor, where he carried on a thriving trade with pirates.

But presently it became apparent that he had not so easily escaped the fruits of his villainy as he had supposed, for upon the evening of the first day the rear of his little column was attacked by some of Barunda’s warriors who had forged ahead of their fellows, with the result that the head of Ninaka’s brother went to increase the prestige and glory of the house of the enemy.

Ninaka was panic-stricken, since he knew that hampered as he was by the heavy chest he could neither fight nor run to advantage.  And so, upon a dark night near the head waters of the river he sought, he buried the treasure at the foot of a mighty buttress tree, and with his parang made certain cabalistic signs upon the bole whereby he might identify the spot when it was safe to return and disinter his booty.  Then, with his men, he hastened down the stream until they reached the head of prahu navigation where they stole a craft and paddled swiftly on toward the sea.

When the three bull ourang outangs closed upon Bulan he felt no fear as to the outcome of the battle, for never in his experience had he coped with any muscles that his own mighty thews could not overcome.  But as the battle continued he realized that there might be a limit to the number of antagonists which he could successfully withstand, since he could scarcely hope with but two hands to reach the throats of three enemies, or ward off the blows and clutches of six powerful hands, or the gnashing of three sets of savage fangs.

When the truth dawned upon him that he was being killed the instinct of self-preservation was born in him.  The ferocity with which he had fought before paled into insignificance beside the mad fury with which he now attacked the three terrible creatures upon him.  Shaking himself like a great lion he freed his arms for a moment from the clinging embrace of his foemen, and seizing the neck of the nearest in his mighty clutch wrenched the head completely around.

There was one awful shriek from the tortured brute—­ the vertebrae parted with a snap, and Bulan’s antagonists were reduced to two.  Lunging and struggling the three combatants stumbled farther and farther into the jungle beyond the clearing.  With mighty blows the man buffeted the beasts to right and left, but ever they returned in bestial rage to renew the encounter.  Bulan was weakening rapidly under the terrific strain to which he had been subjected, and from loss of the blood which flowed from his wounds; yet he was slowly mastering the foaming brutes, who themselves were torn and bleeding and exhausted.  Weaker and weaker became the struggles of them all, when a sudden misstep sent Bulan stumbling headforemost against the stem of a tree, where, stunned, he sank unconscious, at the mercy of the relentless bulls.

They had already sprung upon the prostrate form of their victim to finish what the accident had commenced, when the loud report of Sing’s revolver smote upon their startled ears as the Chinaman’s bullet buried itself in the heart of Number Ten.  Never had the ourang outangs heard the sound of a firearm, and the noise, seemingly in such close proximity, filled them with such terror that on the instant they forgot all else than this new and startling fear, and with headlong haste leaped away into the jungle, leaving Bulan lying where he had fallen.

So it was that though Sing passed within a few paces of the unconscious man he neither saw nor heard aught of him or his antagonists.

When Bulan returned to consciousness the day was drawing to a close.  He was stiff and sore and weak.  His head ached horribly.  He thought that he must indeed be dying, for how could one who suffered so revive?  But at last he managed to stagger to his feet, and finally to reach the stream along which he had been travelling earlier in the day.  Here he quenched his thirst and bathed his wounds, and as darkness came he lay down to sleep upon a bed of matted grasses.

The next morning found him refreshed and in considerably less pain, for the powers of recuperation which belonged to his perfect health and mighty physique had already worked an almost miraculous transformation in him.  While he was hunting in the jungle for his breakfast he came suddenly upon Number Three and Number Twelve similarly employed.

At sight of him the two creatures started to run away, but he called to them reassuringly and they returned.  On closer inspection Bulan saw that both were covered with terrible wounds, and after questioning them learned that they had fared almost as badly at the hands of the ourang outangs as had he.

“Even the beasts loathe us,” exclaimed Number Twelve.  “What are we to do?”

“Leave the beasts alone, as I told you,” replied Bulan.

“Human beings hate us also,” persisted Number Twelve.

“Then let us live by ourselves,” suggested Number Three.

“We hate each other,” retorted the pessimistic Number Twelve.  “There is no place for us in the world, and no companionship.  We are but soulless things.”

“Stop!” cried Bulan.  “I am not a soulless thing.  I am a man, and within me is as fine and pure a soul as any man may own,” and to his mind’s eye came the vision of a fair face surmounted by a mass of loosely waving, golden hair; but the brainless ones could not understand and only shook their heads as they resumed their feeding and forgot the subject.

When the three had satisfied the cravings of their appetites two of them were for lying down to sleep until it should be time to feed again, but Bulan, once more master, would not permit it, and forced them to accompany him in his seemingly futile search for the girl who had disappeared so mysteriously after he had rescued her from the ourang outangs.

Both Number Twelve and Number Three had assured him that the beasts had not recaptured her, for they had seen the entire band flee madly through the jungle after hearing the report of the single shot which had so terrorized Bulan’s antagonists.  Bulan did not know what to make of this occurrence which he had not himself heard, the shot having come after he had lost consciousness at the foot of the tree; but from the description of the noise given him by Number Twelve he felt sure that it must have been the report of a gun, and hoped that it betokened the presence of Virginia Maxon’s friends, and that she was now safe in their keeping.

Nevertheless he did not relinquish his determination to continue his search for her, since it was quite possible that the gun had been fired by a native, many of whom possessed firearms.  His first concern was for the girl’s welfare, which spoke eloquently for the chivalry of his character, and though he wished to see her for the pleasure that it would give him, the hope of serving her was ever the first consideration in his mind.

He was now confident that he was following the wrong direction, and with the intention in view of discovering the tracks of the party which had rescued or captured Virginia after he had been forced to relinquish her, he set out in a totally new direction away from the river.  His small woodcraft and little experience in travelling resulted in his becoming completely confused, so that instead of returning to the spot where he had last seen the girl, as he wished to do, he bore far to the northeast of the place, and missed entirely the path which von Horn and his Dyaks had taken from the long-house into the jungle and back.

All that day he urged his reluctant companions on through the fearful heat of the tropics until, almost exhausted, they halted at dusk upon the bank of a river, where they filled their stomachs with cooling draughts, and after eating lay down to sleep.  It was quite dark when Bulan was aroused by the sound of something approaching from up the river, and as he lay listening he presently heard the subdued voices of men conversing in whispers.  He recognized the language as that of the Dyaks, though he could interpret nothing which they said.

Presently he saw a dozen warriors emerge into a little patch of moonlight.  They bore a huge chest among them which they deposited within a few paces of where Bulan lay.  Then they commenced to dig in the soft earth with their spears and parangs until they had excavated a shallow pit.  Into this they lowered the chest, covering it over with earth and sprinkling dead grass, twigs and leaves above it, that it might present to a searcher no sign that the ground had recently been disturbed.  The balance of the loose earth which would not go back into the pit was thrown into the river.

When all had been made to appear as it was before, one of the warriors made several cuts and scratches upon the stem of a tree which grew above the spot where the chest was buried; then they hastened on in silence past Bulan and down the river.

As von Horn stood by the river’s bank after his conversation with Virginia, he saw a small sampan approaching from up stream.  In it he made out two natives, and the stealthiness of their approach caused him to withdraw into the shadow of a large prahu which was beached close to where he had been standing.

When the men had come close to the landing one of them gave a low signal, and presently a native came down from the long-house.

“Who is it comes by night?” he asked.  “And what want you?”

“News has just reached us that Muda Saffir is alive,” replied one of the men in the boat, “and that he sleeps this night in your long-house.  Is it true?”

“Yes,” answered the man on shore.  “What do you wish of the Rajah Muda Saffir?”

“We are men of his company and we have news for him,” returned the speaker in the sampan.  “Tell him that we must speak to him at once.”

The native on shore returned to the long-house without replying.  Von Horn wondered what the important news for Muda Saffir might be, and so he remained as he had been, concealed behind the prahu.

Presently the old Malay came down to the water’s edge—­ very warily though—­and asked the men whom they might be.  When they had given their names he seemed relieved.

“Ninaka,” they said, “has murdered Barunda who was taking the rajah’s treasure up to the rajah’s stronghold—­the treasure which Ninaka had stolen after trying to murder the rajah and which Barunda had recaptured.  Now Ninaka, after murdering Barunda, set off through the jungle toward the river which leads to Gunung Tebor, and Barunda’s uncle followed him with what few men he had with him; but he sent us down river to try and find you, master, and beg of you to come with many men and overtake Ninaka and punish him.”

Muda Saffir thought for a moment.

“Hasten back to the uncle of Barunda and tell him that as soon as I can gather the warriors I shall come and punish Ninaka.  I have another treasure here which I must not lose, but I can arrange that it will still be here when I return for it, and then Barunda’s uncle can come back with me to assist me if assistance is needed.  Also, be sure to tell Barunda’s uncle never to lose sight of the treasure,” and Muda Saffir turned and hastened back to the long-house.

As the men in the sampan headed the boat’s bow up stream again, von Horn ran along the jungle trail beside the river and abreast of the paddlers.  When he thought that they were out of hearing of the long-house he hailed the two.  In startled surprise the men ceased paddling.

“Who are you and what do you want?” asked one.

“I am the man to whom the chest belongs,” replied von Horn.  “If you will take me to Barunda’s uncle before Muda Saffir reaches him you shall each have the finest rifles that the white man makes, with ammunition enough to last you a year.  All I ask is that you guide me within sight of the party that pursues Ninaka; then you may leave me and tell no one what you have done, nor will I tell any.  What say you?”

The two natives consulted together in low tones.  At last they drew nearer the shore.

“Will you give us each a bracelet of brass as well as the rifles?” asked the spokesman.

Von Horn hesitated.  He knew the native nature well.  To have acquiesced too readily would have been to have invited still further demands from them.

“Only the rifles and ammunition,” he said at last, “unless you succeed in keeping the knowledge of my presence from both Barunda’s uncle and Muda Saffir.  If you do that you shall have the bracelets also.”

The prow of the sampan touched the bank.

“Come!” said one of the warriors.

Von Horn stepped aboard.  He was armed only with a brace of Colts, and he was going into the heart of the wild country of the head hunters, to pit his wits against those of the wily Muda Saffir.  His guides were two savage head hunting warriors of a pirate crew from whom he hoped to steal what they considered a fabulously rich treasure.  Whatever sins might be laid to the door of the doctor, there could be no question but that he was a very brave man!

Von Horn’s rash adventure had been suggested by the hope that he might, by bribing some of the natives with Barunda’s uncle, make way with the treasure before Muda Saffir arrived to claim it, or, failing that, learn its exact whereabouts that he might return for it with an adequate force later.  That he was taking his life in his hands he well knew, but so great was the man’s cupidity that he reckoned no risk too great for the acquirement of a fortune.

The two Dyaks, paddling in silence up the dark river, proceeded for nearly three hours before they drew in to the bank and dragged the sampan up into the bushes.  Then they set out upon a narrow trail into the jungle.  It so happened that after travelling for several miles they inadvertently took another path than that followed by the party under Barunda’s uncle, so that they passed the latter without being aware of it, going nearly half a mile to the right of where the trailers camped a short distance from the bivouac of Ninaka.

In the dead of night Ninaka and his party had crawled away under the very noses of the avengers, taking the chest with them, and by chance von Horn and the two Dyaks cut back into the main trail along the river almost at the very point that Ninaka halted to bury the treasure.

And so it was that Bulan was not the only one who watched the hiding of the chest.

When Ninaka had disappeared down the river trail Bulan lay speculating upon the strange actions he had witnessed.  He wondered why the men should dig a hole in the midst of the jungle to hide away the box which he had so often seen in Professor Maxon’s workshop.  It occurred to him that it might be well to remember just where the thing was buried, so that he could lead the professor to it should he ever see the old man again.  As he lay thus, half dozing, his attention was attracted by a stealthy rustling in the bushes nearby, and as he watched he was dumbfounded to see von Horn creep out into the moonlight.  A moment later the man was followed by two Dyaks.  The three stood conversing in low tones, pointing repeatedly at the spot where the chest lay hidden.  Bulan could understand but little of their conversation, but it was evident that von Horn was urging some proposition to which the warriors demurred.

Suddenly, without an instant’s warning, von Horn drew his gun, wheeled, and fired point-blank, first at one of his companions, then at the other.  Both men fell in their tracks, and scarcely had the pungent odor of the powder smoke reached Bulan’s nostrils ere the white man had plunged into the jungle and disappeared.

Failing in his attempt to undermine the loyalty of the two Dyaks von Horn had chosen the only other way to keep the knowledge of the whereabouts of the chest from Barunda’s uncle and Muda Saffir, and now his principal interest in life was to escape the vengeance of the head hunters and return to the long-house before his absence should be detected.

There he could form a party of natives and set out to regain the chest after Muda Saffir and Barunda’s uncle had given up the quest.  That suspicion should fall on him seemed scarcely credible since the only men who knew that he had left the long-house that night lay dead upon the very spot where the treasure reposed.

14

Man or monster?

When Muda Saffir turned from the two Dyaks who had brought him news of the treasure he hastened to the long-house and arousing the chief of the tribe who domiciled there explained that necessity required that the rajah have at once two war prahus fully manned.  Now the power of the crafty old Malay extended from one end of this great river on which the long-house lay to the other, and though not all the tribes admitted allegiance to him, yet there were few who would not furnish him with men and boats when he required them; for his piratical cruises carried him often up and down the stream, and with his savage horde it was possible for him to wreak summary and terrible vengeance upon those who opposed him.

When he had explained his wishes to the chief, the latter, though at heart hating and fearing Muda Saffir, dared not refuse; but to a second proposition he offered strong opposition until the rajah threatened to wipe out his entire tribe should he not accede to his demands.

The thing which the chief demurred to had occurred to Muda Saffir even as he walked back from the river after conversing with the two Dyak messengers.  The thought of regaining the treasure, the while he administered punishment to the traitorous Ninaka, filled his soul with savage happiness.  Now if he could but once more possess himself of the girl!  And why not?  There was only the sick old man, a Chinaman and von Horn to prevent it, and the chances were that they all were asleep.

So he explained to the chief the plan that had so suddenly sprung to his wicked mind.

“Three men with parangs may easily quiet the old man, his assistant and the Chinaman,” he said, “and then we can take the girl along with us.”

The chief refused at first, point-blank, to be a party to any such proceedings.  He knew what had happened to the Sakkaran Dyaks after they had murdered a party of Englishmen, and he did not purpose laying himself and his tribe open to the vengeance of the white men who came in many boats and with countless guns and cannon to take a terrible toll for every drop of white blood spilled.

So it was that Muda Saffir was forced to compromise, and be satisfied with the chief’s assistance in abducting the girl, for it was not so difficult a matter to convince the head hunter that she really had belonged to the rajah, and that she had been stolen from him by the old man and the doctor.

Virginia slept in a room with three Dyak women.  It was to this apartment that the chief finally consented to dispatch two of his warriors.  The men crept noiselessly within the pitch dark interior until they came to the sleeping form of one of the Dyak women.  Cautiously they awoke her.

“Where is the white girl?” asked one of the men in a low whisper.  “Muda Saffir has sent us for her.  Tell her that her father is very sick and wants her, but do not mention Muda Saffir’s name lest she might not come.”

The whispering awakened Virginia and she lay wondering what the cause of the midnight conference might be, for she recognized that one of the speakers was a man, and there had been no man in the apartment when she had gone to sleep earlier in the night.

Presently she heard some one approach her, and a moment later a woman’s voice addressed her; but she could not understand enough of the native tongue to make out precisely the message the speaker wished to convey.  The words “father,” “sick,” and “come,” however she finally understood after several repetitions, for she had picked up a smattering of the Dyak language during her enforced association with the natives.

The moment that the possibilities suggested by these few words dawned upon her, she sprang to her feet and followed the woman toward the door of the apartment.  Immediately without the two warriors stood upon the verandah awaiting their victim, and as Virginia passed through the doorway she was seized roughly from either side, a heavy hand was clapped over her mouth, and before she could make even an effort to rebel she had been dragged to the end of the verandah, down the notched log to the ground and a moment later found herself in a war prahu which was immediately pushed into the stream.

Since Virginia had come to the long-house after her rescue from the ourang outangs, supposedly by von Horn, Rajah Muda Saffir had kept very much out of sight, for he knew that should the girl see him she would recognize him as the man who had stolen her from the Ithaca.  So it came as a mighty shock to the girl when she heard the hated tones of the man whom she had knocked overboard from the prahu two nights before, and realized that the bestial Malay sat close beside her, and that she was again in his power.  She looked now for no mercy, nor could she hope to again escape him so easily as she had before, and so she sat with bowed head in the bottom of the swiftly moving craft, buried in anguished thoughts, hopeless and miserable.

Along the stretch of black river that the prahu and her consort covered that night Virginia Maxon saw no living thing other than a single figure in a small sampan which hugged the shadows of the shore as the two larger boats met and passed it, nor answered their hail.

Where von Horn and his two Dyak guides had landed, Muda Saffir’s force disembarked and plunged into the jungle.  Rapidly they hastened along the well known trail toward the point designated by the two messengers, to come upon the spot almost simultaneously with the party under Barunda’s uncle, who, startled by the two shots several hours previously, had been cautiously searching through the jungle for an explanation of them.

They had gone warily for fear that they might stumble upon Ninaka’s party before Muda Saffir arrived with reinforcements, and but just now had they discovered the prostrate forms of their two companions.  One was dead, but the other was still conscious and had just sufficient vitality left after the coming of his fellows to whisper that they had been treacherously shot by the younger white man who had been at the long-house where they had found Muda Saffir—­then the fellow expired without having an opportunity to divulge the secret hiding place of the treasure, over the top of which his body lay.

Now Bulan had been an interested witness of all that transpired.  At first he had been inclined to come out of his hiding place and follow von Horn, but so much had already occurred beneath the branches of the great tree where the chest lay hidden that he decided to wait until morning at least, for he was sure that he had by no means seen the last of the drama which surrounded the heavy box.  This belief was strengthened by the haste displayed by both Ninaka and von Horn to escape the neighborhood as quickly as possible, as though they feared that they might be apprehended should they delay even for a moment.

Number Three and Number Twelve still slept, not having been aroused even by the shots fired by von Horn.  Bulan himself had dozed after the departure of the doctor, but the advent of Barunda’s uncle with his followers had awakened him, and now he lay wide eyed and alert as the second party, under Muda Saffir, came into view when they left the jungle trail and entered the clearing.

His interest in either party was but passive until he saw the khaki blouse, short skirt and trim leggins of the captive walking between two of the Dyaks of Muda Saffir’s company.  At the same instant he recognized the evil features of the rajah as those of the man who had directed the abduction of Virginia Maxon from the wrecked Ithaca.

Like a great cat Bulan drew himself cautiously to all fours—­ every nerve and muscle taut with the excitement of the moment.  Before him he saw a hundred and fifty ferocious Borneo head hunters, armed with parangs, spears and sumpitans.  At his back slept two almost brainless creatures—­his sole support against the awful odds he must face before he could hope to succor the divinity whose image was enshrined in his brave and simple heart.

The muscles stood out upon his giant forearm as he gripped the stock of his bull whip.  He believed that he was going to his death, for mighty as were his thews he knew that in the face of the horde they would avail him little, yet he saw no other way than to sit supinely by while the girl went to her doom, and that he could not do.  He nudged Number Twelve.  “Silence!” he whispered, and “Come!  The girl is here.  We must save her.  Kill the men,” and the same to the hairy and terrible Number Three.

Both the creatures awoke and rose to their hands and knees without noise that could be heard above the chattering of the natives, who had crowded forward to view the dead bodies of von Horn’s victims.  Silently Bulan came to his feet, the two monsters at his back rising and pressing close behind him.  Along the denser shadows the three crept to a position in the rear of the natives.  The girl’s guards had stepped forward with the others to join in the discussion that followed the dying statement of the murdered warrior, leaving her upon the outer fringe of the crowd.

For an instant a sudden hope of escape sprang to Virginia Maxon’s mind—­there was none between her and the jungle through which they had just passed.  Though unknown dangers lurked in the black and uncanny depths of the dismal forest, would not death in any form be far preferable to the hideous fate which awaited her in the person of the bestial Malay pirate?

She had turned to take the first step toward freedom when three figures emerged from the wall of darkness behind her.  She saw the war-caps, shields, and war-coats, and her heart sank.  Here were others of the rajah’s party—­stragglers who had come just in time to thwart her plans.  How large these men were—­she never had seen a native of such giant proportions; and now they had come quite close to her, and as the foremost stooped to speak to her she shrank back in fear.  Then, to her surprise, she heard in whispered English; “Come quietly, while they are not looking.”

She thought the voice familiar, but could not place it, though her heart whispered that it might belong to the young stranger of her dreams.  He reached out and took her hand and together they turned and walked quickly toward the jungle, followed by the two who had accompanied him.

Scarcely had they covered half the distance before one of the Dyaks whose duty it had been to guard the girl discovered that she was gone.  With a cry he alarmed his fellows, and in another instant a sharp pair of eyes caught the movement of the four who had now broken into a run.

With savage shouts the entire force of head hunters sprang in pursuit.  Bulan lifted Virginia in his arms and dashed on ahead of Number Twelve and Number Three.  A shower of poisoned darts blown from half a hundred sumpitans fell about them, and then Muda Saffir called to his warriors to cease using their deadly blow-pipes lest they kill the girl.

Into the jungle dashed the four while close behind them came the howling pack of enraged savages.  Now one closed upon Number Three only to fall back dead with a broken neck as the giant fingers released their hold upon him.  A parang swung close to Number Twelve, but his own, which he had now learned to wield with fearful effect, clove through the pursuing warrior’s skull splitting him wide to the breast bone.

Thus they fought the while they forced their way deeper and deeper into the dark mazes of the entangled vegetation.  The brunt of the running battle was borne by the two monsters, for Bulan was carrying Virginia, and keeping a little ahead of his companions to insure the girl’s greater safety.

Now and then patches of moonlight filtering through occasional openings in the leafy roofing revealed to Virginia the battle that was being waged for possession of her, and once, when Number Three turned toward her after disposing of a new assailant, she was horrified to see the grotesque and terrible face of the creature.  A moment later she caught sight of Number Twelve’s hideous face.  She was appalled.

Could it be that she had been rescued from the Malay to fall into the hands of creatures equally heartless and entirely without souls?  She glanced up at the face of him who carried her.  In the darkness of the night she had not yet had an opportunity to see the features of the man, but after a glimpse at those of his two companions she trembled to think of the hideous thing that might be revealed to her.

Could it be that she had at last fallen into the hands of the dreaded and terrible Number Thirteen!  Instinctively she shrank from contact with the man in whose arms she had been carried without a trace of repugnance until the thought obtruded itself that he might be the creature of her father’s mad experimentation, to whose arms she had been doomed by the insane obsession of her parent.

The man shifted her now to give himself freer use of his right arm, for the savages were pressing more closely upon Twelve and Three, and the change made it impossible for the girl to see his face even in the more frequent moonlit places.

But she could see the two who ran and fought just behind them, and she shuddered at her inevitable fate.  For should the three be successful in bearing her away from the Dyaks she must face an unknown doom, while should the natives recapture her there was the terrible Malay into whose clutches she had already twice fallen.

Now the head hunters were pressing closer, and suddenly, even as the girl looked directly at him, a spear passed through the heart of Number Three.  Clutching madly at the shaft protruding from his misshapen body the grotesque thing stumbled on for a dozen paces, and then sank to the ground as two of the brown warriors sprang upon him with naked parangs.  An instant later Virginia Maxon saw the hideous and grisly head swinging high in the hand of a dancing, whooping savage.

The man who carried her was now forced to turn and fight off the enemy that pressed forward past Number Twelve.  The mighty bull whip whirled and cracked across the heads and faces of the Dyaks.  It was a formidable weapon when backed by the Herculean muscles that rolled and shifted beneath Bulan’s sun-tanned skin, and many were the brown warriors that went down beneath its cruel lash.

Virginia could see that the creature who bore her was not deformed of body, but she shrank from the thought of what a sight of his face might reveal.  How much longer the two could fight off the horde at their heels the girl could not guess; and as a matter of fact she was indifferent to the outcome of the strange, running battle that was being waged with herself as the victor’s spoil.

The country now was becoming rougher and more open.  The flight seemed to be leading into a range of low hills, where the jungle grew less dense, and the way rocky and rugged.  They had entered a narrow canyon when Number Twelve went down beneath a half dozen parangs.  Again the girl saw a bloody head swung on high and heard the fierce, wild chorus of exulting victory.  She wondered how long it would be ere the creature beneath her would add his share to the grim trophies of the hunt.

In the interval that the head hunters had paused to sever Number Twelve’s head, Bulan had gained fifty yards upon them, and then, of a sudden, he came to a sheer wall rising straight across the narrow trail he had been following.  Ahead there was no way—­a cat could scarce have scaled that formidable barrier—­but to the right he discerned what appeared to be a steep and winding pathway up the canyon’s side, and with a bound he clambered along it to where it surmounted the rocky wall.

There he turned, winded, to await the oncoming foe.  Here was a spot where a single man might defy an army, and Bulan had been quick to see the natural advantages of it.  He placed the girl upon her feet behind a protruding shoulder of the canyon’s wall which rose to a considerable distance still above them.  Then he turned to face the mob that was surging up the narrow pathway toward him.

At his feet lay an accumulation of broken rock from the hillside above, and as a spear sped, singing, close above his shoulder, the occurrence suggested a use for the rough and jagged missiles which lay about him in such profusion.  Many of the pieces were large, weighing twenty and thirty pounds, and some even as much as fifty.  Picking up one of the larger Bulan raised it high above his head, and then hurled it down amongst the upclimbing warriors.  In an instant pandemonium reigned, for the heavy boulder had mowed down a score of the pursuers, breaking arms and legs in its meteoric descent.

Missile after missile Bulan rained down upon the struggling, howling Dyaks, until, seized by panic, they turned and fled incontinently down into the depths of the canyon and back along the narrow trail they had come, and then superstitious fear completed the rout that the flying rocks had started, for one whispered to another that this was the terrible Bulan and that he had but lured them on into the hills that he might call forth all his demons and destroy them.

For a moment Bulan stood watching the retreating savages, a smile upon his lips, and then as the sudden equatorial dawn burst forth he turned to face the girl.

As Virginia Maxon saw the fine features of the giant where she had expected to find the grotesque and hideous lineaments of a monster, she gave a quick little cry of pleasure and relief.

“Thank God!” she cried fervently.  “Thank God that you are a man—­I thought that I was in the clutches of the hideous and soulless monster, Number Thirteen.”

The smile upon the young man’s face died.  An expression of pain, and hopelessness, and sorrow swept across his features.  The girl saw the change, and wondered, but how could she guess the grievous wound her words had inflicted?

15