6
TO KILL!
The Rajah Muda Saffir, tiring of the excuses and delays
which Bududreen interposed to postpone the fulfillment
of his agreement with the former, whereby he was to deliver
into the hands of the rajah a certain beautiful maiden,
decided at last to act upon his own initiative.
The truth of the matter was that he had come to suspect
the motives of the first mate of the Ithaca, and not
knowing of the great chest attributed them to
Bududreen's desire to possess the girl for himself.
So it was that as the second mate of the Ithaca with
his six men waded down the bed of the little stream
toward the harbor and the ship, a fleet of ten war
prahus manned by over five hundred fierce Dyaks and
commanded by Muda Saffir himself, pulled cautiously
into the little cove upon the opposite side of the
island, and landed but a quarter of a mile from camp.
At the same moment von Horn was leading Virginia Maxon
farther and farther from the north campong where resistance,
if there was to be any, would be most likely to occur.
At his superior's cough Bududreen had signalled silently
to the men within the enclosure, and a moment later
six savage lascars crept stealthily to his side.
The moment that von Horn and the girl were entirely
concealed by the darkness, the seven moved cautiously
along the shadow of the palisade toward the north
campong. There was murder in the cowardly hearts of
several of them, and stupidity and lust in the hearts
of all. There was no single one who would not betray
his best friend for a handful of silver, nor any but
was inwardly hoping and scheming to the end that he
might alone possess both the chest and the girl.
It was such a pack of scoundrels that Bududreen led
toward the north campong to bear away the treasure.
In the breast of the leader was the hope that he had
planted enough of superstitious terror in their hearts
to make the sight of the supposed author of their
imagined wrongs sufficient provocation for his murder;
for Bududreen was too sly to give the order for the
killing of a white man--the arm of the white man's law
was too long--but he felt that he would rest easier
were he to leave the island with the knowledge that only
a dead man remained behind with the secret of his perfidy.
While these events were transpiring Number Thirteen
was pacing restlessly back and forth the length of
the workshop. But a short time before he had had his
author--the author of his misery--within the four walls
of his prison, and yet he had not wreaked the vengeance
that was in his heart. Twice he had been on the point
of springing upon the man, but both times the other's
eyes had met his and something which he was not able to
comprehend had stayed him. Now that the other had gone
and he was alone contemplation of the hideous wrong that
had been done loosed again the flood gates of his pent rage.
The thought that he had been made by this man--made in
the semblance of a human being, yet denied by the
manner of his creation a place among the lowest of
Nature's creatures--filled him with fury, but it was
not this thought that drove him to the verge of
madness. It was the knowledge, suggested by von Horn,
that Virginia Maxon would look upon him in horror,
as a grotesque and loathsome monstrosity.
He had no standard and no experience whereby he might
classify his sentiments toward this wonderful creature.
All he knew was that his life would be complete could
he be near her always--see her and speak with her
daily. He had thought of her almost constantly since
those short, delicious moments that he had held her in
his arms. Again and again he experienced in
retrospection the exquisite thrill that had run through
every fiber of his being at the sight of her averted
eyes and flushed face. And the more he let his mind
dwell upon the wonderful happiness that was denied him
because of his origin, the greater became his wrath
against his creator.
It was now quite dark without. The door leading to
Professor Maxon's campong, left unlatched earlier in
the evening by von Horn for sinister motives of his
own, was still unbarred through a fatal coincidence
of forgetfulness on the part of the professor.
Number Thirteen approached this door. He laid his hand
upon the knob. A moment later he was moving noiselessly
across the campong toward the house in which Professor Maxon
lay peacefully sleeping; while at the south gate Bududreen
and his six cutthroats crept cautiously within and slunk
in the dense shadows of the palisade toward the workshop
where lay the heavy chest of their desire. At the same
instant Muda Saffir with fifty of his head-hunting Dyaks
emerged from the jungle east of the camp, bent on discovering
the whereabouts of the girl the Malay sought and bearing her
away to his savage court far within the jungle fastness
of his Bornean principality.
Number Thirteen reached the verandah of the house and
peered through the window into the living room, where
an oil lamp, turned low, dimly lighted the interior,
which he saw was unoccupied. Going to the door he
pushed it open and entered the apartment. All was
still within. He listened intently for some slight
sound which might lead him to the victim he sought,
or warn him from the apartment of the girl or that of
von Horn--his business was with Professor Maxon. He did
not wish to disturb the others whom he believed to be
sleeping somewhere within the structure--a low,
rambling bungalow of eight rooms.
Cautiously he approached one of the four doors which
opened from the living room. Gently he turned the knob
and pushed the door ajar. The interior of the
apartment beyond was in inky darkness, but Number
Thirteen's greatest fear was that he might have
stumbled upon the sleeping room of Virginia Maxon,
and that if she were to discover him there, not only
would she be frightened, but her cries would alarm
the other inmates of the dwelling.
The thought of the horror that his presence would
arouse within her, the knowledge that she would look
upon him as a terrifying monstrosity, added new fuel
to the fires of hate that raged in his bosom against
the man who had created him. With clenched fists,
and tight set jaws the great, soulless giant moved across
the dark chamber with the stealthy noiselessness of a tiger.
Feeling before him with hands and feet he made the circuit
of the room before he reached the bed.
Scarce breathing he leaned over and groped across the
covers with his fingers in search of his prey--the bed
was empty. With the discovery came a sudden nervous
reaction that sent him into a cold sweat. Weakly,
he seated himself upon the edge of the bed.
Had his fingers found the throat of Professor Maxon
beneath the coverlet they would never have released
their hold until life had forever left the body
of the scientist, but now that the highest tide
of the young man's hatred had come and gone
he found himself for the first time assailed by doubts.
Suddenly he recalled the fact that the man whose life
he sought was the father of the beautiful creature he adored.
Perhaps she loved him and would be unhappy were he taken
away from her. Number Thirteen did not know, of course,
but the idea obtruded itself, and had sufficient weight
to cause him to remain seated upon the edge of the
bed meditating upon the act he contemplated.
He had by no means given up the idea of killing
Professor Maxon, but now there were doubts
and obstacles which had not been manifest before.
His standards of right and wrong were but half formed,
from the brief attempts of Professor Maxon and von Horn
to inculcate proper moral perceptions in a mind entirely
devoid of hereditary inclinations toward either good or bad,
but he realized one thing most perfectly--that to be
a soulless thing was to be damned in the estimation
of Virginia Maxon, and it now occurred to him that
to kill her father would be the act of a soulless being.
It was this thought more than another that caused him
to pause in the pursuit of his revenge, since he knew
that the act he contemplated would brand him the
very thing he was, yet wished not to be.
At length, however, he slowly comprehended that no act
of his would change the hideous fact of his origin;
that nothing would make him acceptable in her eyes,
and with a shake of his head he arose and stepped toward
the living room to continue his search for the professor.
In the workshop Bududreen and his men had easily
located the chest. Dragging it into the north campong
the Malay was about to congratulate himself upon the
ease with which the theft had been accomplished when
one of his fellows declared his intention of going to
the house for the purpose of dispatching Professor
Maxon, lest the influence of his evil eye should
overtake them with some terrible curse when the loss
of the chest should be discovered.
While this met fully with Bududreen's plans he urged
the man against any such act that he might have
witnesses to prove that he not only had no hand in the
crime, but had exerted his authority to prevent it;
but when two of the men separated themselves from the party
and crept toward the bungalow no force was interposed
to stop them.
The moon had risen now, so that from the dark shadows
of the palisade Muda Saffir and his savages watched the
party with Bududreen squatting about the heavy chest,
and saw the two who crept toward the house. To Muda
Saffir's evil mind there was but one explanation.
Bududreen had discovered a rich treasure, and having
stolen that had dispatched two of his men to bring him
the girl also.
Rajah Muda Saffir was furious. In subdued whispers he
sent a half dozen of his Dyaks back beneath the shadow
of the palisade to the opposite side of the bungalow
where they were to enter the building, killing all
within except the girl, whom they were to carry
straight to the beach and the war prahus.
Then with the balance of his horde he crept alone in
the darkness until opposite Bududreen and the watchers
about the chest. Just as the two who crept toward the
bungalow reached it, Muda Saffir gave the word for the
attack upon the Malays and lascars who guarded the
treasure. With savage yells they dashed upon the
unsuspecting men. Parangs and spears glistened in the
moonlight. There was a brief and bloody encounter,
for the cowardly Bududreen and his equally cowardly crew
had had no alternative but to fight, so suddenly had
the foe fallen upon them.
In a moment the savage Borneo head hunters had added
five grisly trophies to their record. Bududreen and
another were racing madly toward the jungle beyond
the campong.
As Number Thirteen arose to continue his search for
Professor Maxon his quick ear caught the shuffling of
bare feet upon the verandah. As he paused to listen
there broke suddenly upon the still night the hideous
war cries of the Dyaks, and the screams and shrieks of
their frightened victims in the campong without.
Almost simultaneously Professor Maxon and Sing rushed
into the living room to ascertain the cause of the
wild alarm, while at the same instant Bududreen's assassins
sprang through the door with upraised krisses, to be
almost immediately followed by Muda Saffir's six Dyaks
brandishing their long spears and wicked parangs.
In an instant the little room was filled with howling,
fighting men. The Dyaks, whose orders as well as
inclinations incited them to a general massacre,
fell first upon Bududreen's lascars who, cornered
in the small room, fought like demons for their lives,
so that when the Dyaks had overcome them two of their own
number lay dead beside the dead bodies of Bududreen's henchmen.
Sing and Professor Maxon stood in the doorway to the
professor's room gazing upon the scene of carnage in
surprise and consternation. The scientist was unarmed,
but Sing held a long, wicked looking Colt in readiness
for any contingency. It was evident the celestial was
no stranger to the use of his deadly weapon, nor to the
moments of extreme and sudden peril which demanded its use,
for he seemed no more perturbed than had he been but
hanging out his weekly wash.
As Number Thirteen watched the two men from the dark
shadows of the room in which he stood, he saw that both
were calm--the Chinaman with the calmness of perfect
courage, the other through lack of full understanding
of the grave danger which menaced him. In the eyes of
the latter shone a strange gleam--it was the wild light
of insanity that the sudden nervous shock of the attack
had brought to a premature culmination.
Now the four remaining Dyaks were advancing upon the
two men. Sing levelled his revolver and fired at
the foremost, and at the same instant Professor Maxon,
with a shrill, maniacal scream, launched himself full upon
a second. Number Thirteen saw the blood spurt from a
superficial wound in the shoulder of the fellow who
received Sing's bullet, but except for eliciting a howl
of rage the missile had no immediate effect. Then Sing
pulled the trigger again and again, but the cylinder
would not revolve and the hammer fell futilely upon the
empty cartridge. As two of the head hunters closed
upon him the brave Chinaman clubbed his weapon and went
down beneath them beating madly at the brown skulls.
The man with whom Professor Maxon had grappled had no
opportunity to use his weapons for the crazed man held
him close with one encircling arm while he tore and
struck at him with his free hand. The fourth Dyak
danced around the two with raised parang watching for
an opening that he might deliver a silencing blow upon
the white man's skull.
The great odds against the two men--their bravery in
the face of death, their grave danger--and last and
greatest, the fact that one was the father of the
beautiful creature he worshipped, wrought a sudden
change in Number Thirteen. In an instant he forgot
that he had come here to kill the white-haired man,
and with a bound stood in the center of the room--
an unarmed giant towering above the battling four.
The parang of the Dyak who sought Professor Maxon's
life was already falling as a mighty hand grasped the
wrist of the head hunter; but even then it was too late
to more than lessen the weight of the blow, and the
sharp edge of the blade bit deep into the forehead of
the white man. As he sank to his knees his other
antagonist freed an arm from the embrace which had
pinioned it to his side, but before he could deal the
professor a blow with the short knife that up to now he
had been unable to use, Number Thirteen had hurled his man
across the room and was upon him who menaced the scientist.
Tearing him loose from his prey, he raised him far
above his head and threw him heavily against the
opposite wall, then he turned his attention toward
Sing's assailants. All that had so far saved the
Chinaman from death was the fact that the two savages
were each so anxious to secure his head for the
verandah rafters of his own particular long-house
that they interfered with one another in the
consummation of their common desire.
Although battling for his life, Sing had not failed to
note the advent of the strange young giant, nor the
part he had played in succoring the professor, so that
it was with a feeling of relief that he saw the
newcomer turn his attention toward those who were
rapidly reducing the citadel of his own existence.
The two Dyaks who sought the trophy which nature had
set upon the Chinaman's shoulders were so busily engaged
with their victim that they knew nothing of the presence
of Number Thirteen until a mighty hand seized each by
the neck and they were raised bodily from the floor,
shaken viciously for an instant, and then hurled
to the opposite end of the room upon the bodies
of the two who had preceded them.
As Sing came to his feet he found Professor Maxon lying
in a pool of his own blood, a great gash in his forehead.
He saw the white giant standing silently looking down
upon the old man. Across the room the four stunned Dyaks
were recovering consciousness. Slowly and fearfully
they regained their feet, and seeing that no attention
was being paid them, cast a parting, terrified look at the
mighty creature who had defeated them with his bare hands,
and slunk quickly out into the darkness of the campong.
When they caught up with Rajah Muda Saffir near the beach,
they narrated a fearful tale of fifty terrible white men
with whom they had battled valiantly, killing many, before
they had been compelled to retreat in the face of terrific odds.
They swore that even then they had only returned because the girl
was not in the house--otherwise they should have brought her
to their beloved master as he had directed.
Now Muda Saffir believed nothing that they said, but he
was well pleased with the great treasure which had so
unexpectedly fallen into his hands, and he decided to
make quite sure of that by transporting it to his own land--
later he could return for the girl. So the ten war prahus
of the Malay pulled quietly out of the little cove
upon the east side of the island, and bending their way
toward the south circled its southern extremity
and bore away for Borneo.
In the bungalow within the north campong Sing and
Number Thirteen had lifted Professor Maxon to his bed,
and the Chinaman was engaged in bathing and bandaging
the wound that had left the older man unconscious.
The white giant stood beside him watching his every move.
He was trying to understand why sometimes men killed
one another and again defended and nursed. He was
curious as to the cause of his own sudden change in
sentiment toward Professor Maxon. At last he gave the
problem up as beyond his powers of solution, and at
Sing's command set about the task of helping to nurse
the man whom he considered the author of his unhappiness
and whom a few short minutes before he had come to kill.
As the two worked over the stricken man their ears
were suddenly assailed by a wild commotion from the
direction of the workshop. There were sounds of
battering upon wood, loud growls and roars, mingled
with weird shrieks and screams and the strange,
uncanny gibbering of brainless things.
Sing looked quickly up at his companion.
"Whallee mallee?" he asked.
The giant did not answer. An expression of pain crossed
his features, and he shuddered--but not from fear.
