AS the hideous creature bore her on, Fou-tan struggled to release herself; but she was utterly helpless in the Herculean grasp of her gigantic captor. She tried to wrench the creature’s hand from her mouth that she might scream a warning to King, but even in this she was doomed to failure.
The creature had at first been carrying her under one arm, with her face down; but after he reached the floor of the forest he swung her lightly up in front of him, carrying her so that she had a clear view of his face; and at sight of it her heart sank within her. It was a hideous face, with thick lips and protruding teeth, great ears that flapped as the creature ran, and a low, receding forehead hidden by filthy, tangled hair that almost met the bushy, protruding eyebrows, beneath which gleamed wicked, bloodshot eyes.
It did not require a second look to convince Fou-tan that she had fallen into the hands of one of the dread Yeacks. Notwithstanding the fact that she had never before seen one of these ogre people, nor had known anyone who had, she was nevertheless as positive in her identification as though she had come in daily contact with them all her life, so strongly implanted in the mind of man are the superstitions of childhood. What else, indeed, could this creature be but a Yeack?
The horror of her situation was augmented by its contrast to the happy state from which it had snatched her. Had her Gordon King been there she would have been sure of rescue, so absolute was her conviction of his prowess. But how was he to know what had become of her? Being city-bred, it did not immediately occur to her that King might follow the tracks of her abductor, and so she was borne on more deeply into the sombre forest without even the slightly alleviating reassurance of faint hope. She was lost! Of that Fou-tan was convinced; for was it not well known that the Yeacks fed upon human flesh?
The brute, sensing muddily that he would be pursued, and having witnessed something of the prowess of King, did not pause in his flight but hastened steadily on toward a rocky fastness which he knew, where one might hide for days or, if discovered, find a cave, the mouth of which might be easily defended.
As he strode steadily through the forest his keen ears were presently attracted by a familiar sound, a sound which experience told him was a warning to change his course. A moment later he saw the elephants moving slowly across his path toward his left. He had no wish to dispute the right-of-way with them; so he veered to the right with the intention of passing behind them. They did not see him, but they caught his scent spoor, and an old bull left the herd and came ponderously down toward the point where the brute had first sighted them. The rest of the herd halted and then followed the old bull. The scent spoor of the man grated upon the nerves of the pachyderms. They became restless and irritable, more so because they could not locate the authors of this disturbing scent.
As the brute moved quickly to the right to circle to the rear of the herd and resume his interrupted course toward the wild sanctuary that was his objective, he kept his eyes turned to the left upon the members of the herd, lest, by chance, one of them might discover him and charge. A remote possibility, perhaps, but it is by guarding against remote possibilities that the fittest of primitive creatures survive. So, because of the fact that his attention was riveted in one direction, he did not see the danger approaching from another.
A score of soldiers, their brass cuirasses dulled and tarnished by the rain and dirt of jungle marches, halted at the sight of the brute and the burden he bore. A young officer in charge whispered a few low words of command. The soldiers crept forward, forming a half-circle as they went, to intercept the brute and his captive. One of the soldiers stumbled over a branch that had fallen from the tree above. Instantly the brute wheeled toward them. He saw twenty well-armed men advancing, their spears menacingly ready; and responding to the urge of Nature’s first law, the brute cast the girl roughly to the ground and, wheeling, broke for freedom. A shower of arrows followed him and some of the soldiers would have pursued, but the officer called them back.
“We have the girl,” he said; “let that thing go. We were not sent out for him. He is not the man who abducted the apsaras from the palace of Lodivarman.”
At the moment that the brute had seen the soldiers, so had Fou-tan; and now she scrambled quickly to her feet, from where he had hurled her to the ground, and turned in flight back toward the gorge where she had last seen King.
“After her!” cried the officer; “but do not harm her.”
Fou-tan ran fleetly and perhaps would have gotten away from them had not she tripped and fallen; as she scrambled to her feet, they were upon her. Rough hands seized her, but they did not harm her, nor did they offer her insult; for she who was to have been the favourite of Lodivarman might yet be, and it is not well to incur the displeasure of a king’s favourite.
“Where is the man?” asked the officer, addressing Fou-tan.
The girl thought very quickly in that instant, and there was apparently no hesitation as she nodded her head in the direction that the fleeing brute had taken. “You know as well as I do,” she said. “Why did you not capture him?”
“Not that man,” said the officer. “I refer to the soldier of the guard who abducted you from the palace of Lodivarman.”
“It was no soldier of the guard who abducted me,” replied the girl. “This creature stole into the palace and seized me. A soldier of the guard followed us into the jungle and tried to rescue me, but he failed.”
“Lodivarman sent word that it was the strange warrior, Gordon King, who stole you from the palace,” said the officer.
“You saw the creature that stole me,” said Fou-tan. “Did it look like a soldier of Lodivarman?”
“No,” admitted the officer, “but where is this Gordon King? He has disappeared from Lodidhapura.”
“I told you that he tried to rescue me,” explained Fou-tan. “He followed us into the jungle. What became of him I do not know. Perhaps the Yeacks wrought a magic spell that killed him.”
“Yeacks!” exclaimed the officer. “What do you mean?”
“Did you not recognise my captor as a Yeack?” asked Fou-tan. “Do you not know a Yeack when you see one?”
Exclamations arose from the soldiers gathered about them. “By the gods, it was a Yeack,” said one. “Perhaps there are others about,” suggested another. The men looked about them fearfully.
Fou-tan thought that she saw in their superstitious terror, which she fully shared herself, a possibility of escape. “The Yeacks will be angry with you for having taken me from one of their number,” she said. “Doubtless he has gone to summon his fellows. You had best escape while you can. If you do not take me with you, they will not follow you.”
“By Siva, she is right!” exclaimed a warrior.
“I am not afraid of the Yeacks,” said the officer bravely; “but we have the apsaras and there is no reason why we should remain here longer. Come!” He took Fou-tan gently by the arm.
“If you take me they will follow you,” she said. “You had better leave me here.”
“Yes, leave her here,” grumbled some of the warriors.
“We shall take the girl with us,” said the officer. “I may escape the wrath of the Yeacks, but if I return to Lodidhapura without the apsaras I shall not escape the wrath of Lodivarman,” and he gave the command to form for the march.
As the party moved away down toward the trail that leads to Lodidhapura, many were the nervous glances that the warriors cast behind them. There was much muttering and grumbling, and it was apparent that they did not relish being the escort of a recaptured prisoner of the Yeacks. Fou-tan fed their fears and their dissatisfaction by constant reference to the vengeance that would fall upon them in some form when the Yeacks should overtake them.
“You are very foolish to risk your life needlessly,” she told the young officer. “If you leave me here you will be safe from the Yeacks, and no one in Lodidhapura need know that you have found me.”
“Why should you wish to remain and become the victim of the Yeacks?” demanded the officer.
“It makes no difference whether you are with me or not,” insisted Fou-tan. “The Yeacks will get me again. In some form they will come and take me. If you are with me they will slay you all.”
“But there is a chance that we may escape them and get back to Lodidhapura,” insisted the officer.
“I would rather remain with the Yeacks than go back to Lodivarman,” said the girl. But in her breast was the hope that she could find Gordon King before the Yeacks overtook her; and, notwithstanding her superstitious fear of them, so great was her faith in the prowess of her man that she had no doubt but that he could overcome them.
Her arguments, however, were unavailing. She could not swerve the young officer from his determination to take her back to Lodidhapura. From the first however, it was apparent that the common soldiers were less enthusiastic about her company. The warriors of Pnom Dhek they could face with courage, or the charge of My Lord the Tiger, but contemplation of the supernatural powers of the mythological Yeacks filled their superstitious breasts with naught but terror. There were those among them who even discussed the advisability of murdering the officer, abandoning the girl, and returning to Lodidhapura with some plausible explanation, which their encounter with the Yeack readily suggested; but none of these things were they destined to do.
As King saw the great elephant advancing toward him he became seriously alive to the danger of his situation. He looked hurriedly about him, searching for an avenue of escape, but nowhere near was there a single tree of sufficient size to have withstood the titanic strength of the great bull should he have elected to fell it. To face the bull or to attempt to escape by running seemed equally futile; yet it was the latter alternative which commended itself to him as being the less suicidal.
But just then something happened. The bull stopped in his advance and looked suddenly toward his left. His trumpeting ceased, and then most unexpectedly he wheeled about and bolted directly away from King to be immediately followed by the entire herd, which went crashing through the jungle, bowling over trees in their mad progress until finally they disappeared from view.
With a sigh of relief King took up his interrupted pursuit, following in the wake of the elephants, which had disappeared in the direction taken by the abductor of Fou-tan. What had brought about the sudden change in the attitude of the bull King could not guess, nor did he ever discover. He attributed it to the mental vagaries of a naturally timid and nervous animal. He did not know that a changing breeze had brought to the nostrils of the pachyderm the scent spoor of many men—the soldiers of Lodivarman—nor was the matter of any particular importance to King, whose mind was occupied now with something of far greater moment. The stampeding elephants had entirely obliterated the tracks that King had been following, and this it was that gave him the greatest concern. It seemed that everything militated against the success of his pursuit. He zigzagged to the right and left of the elephant tracks in the hope of picking up the footprints of the fleeing man. When he had about abandoned hope, he saw in the soft earth a single familiar spoor—the imprint of a great flat foot. By what seemed little less than a miracle this single tell-tale clue had escaped the rushing feet of the herd. It pointed on in the direction that King had been going; and, with renewed hope, he hurried forward.
Among fallen trees, bowled over by the terrified elephants, King pursued his quarry until he was brought to a sudden stop by a tragic tableau of the jungle that instantly filled him with dire misgiving. A short distance ahead of him lay a man pinioned to the earth by a small tree that had fallen across his legs. Facing the man, crouching belly to the ground, advancing slowly inch by inch, was a great leopard. The man was helpless. In another instant the cat would be upon him, rending and tearing. Naturally the first thought that entered King’s head was that this was the man who had abducted Fou-tan, and, if so, where was the girl? Until that question was answered the man must not die.
With a cry of warning intended to distract the attention of the leopard, King sprang forward, simultaneously fitting an arrow to his bow. The leopard leaped to its feet. For an instant it stood glaring menacingly at the advancing man; and seeing it hesitate, King did not launch his shaft, for he saw now that he might come within effective spear range of the beast before it charged; and he guessed that an arrow might only serve to infuriate it.
Disconcerted by this unexpected interference with its plans and with the interloper’s bold advance, the brute hesitated a moment and then, wheeling, bounded off into the jungle.
The man lying upon the ground had been a witness to all this. He was saved from the leopard, but he looked apprehensively at King as the latter stopped beside him, for he recognised the newcomer as the man from whom he had stolen the girl. If he had any doubts as to the other’s awareness of his guilt, it was dissipated by King’s first words.
“Where is the girl?” demanded the American.
“The soldiers took her from me,” replied the brute sullenly.
“What soldiers?”
“They were soldiers from Lodidhapura,” replied the other.
“I believe that you are lying,” said King, “and I ought to kill you.” He raised his spear.
The brute did not wish to die. He had lost the girl, but he did not wish to lose his life also; and now, with effort, spurred by the desire to live, his brain gave birth to a simple idea. “You have saved my life,” he said. “If you will raise this tree from my legs, I will help you to find the girl and take her away from the soldiers. That I will do if you do not kill me.”
The man’s spear had fallen beside him. As King considered the proposition he recovered the weapon and then took the bow and arrows from the man also.
“Why do you do that?” asked the brute.
“So that if I decide to release you, you may not be tempted to kill me,” replied King.
“Very well,” replied the brute, “but I shall not try to kill you.” King stooped and seized the bole of the tree. It was not a very large tree, but it had fallen in such a way that the man, unassisted, could not have released himself; and as King raised it, the brute drew his legs from beneath it.
“Any bones broken?” asked King.
The brute rose slowly to his feet. “No,” he said.
“Then let’s be on our way,” urged King. “We have no time to lose.”
As the two men set out King walked a little in the rear of the other. He had been impressed from the first by the savage bestiality of his companion’s face and now by his tremendous size. His huge, drooped shoulders and his long arms seemed capable of the most titanic feats of strength; yet the creature, who seemingly could have slain him as easily without weapons as with, led docilely on, until at last King was convinced that the fellow contemplated no treachery, but would carry out his part of the bargain with simple-minded loyalty.
“Who are you?” demanded King after they had walked in silence for a considerable distance.
“I am Prang,” replied the brute.
“What were you doing out here in the jungle?” asked King.
“I live here,” replied the brute.
“Where?”
“Anywhere,” replied Prang with a broad gesture.
“Where are your people?” asked King.
“I have none; I live alone.”
“Have you always lived in the jungle?”
“Not always, but for a long time.”
“Where did you come from?”
“From Pnom Dhek.”
“Then you are a runaway slave?” asked King.
The brute nodded his head. “But you need not try to return me. If you did that I should kill you.”
“I do not intend to try to return you to Pnom Dhek. I am not from Pnom Dhek.”
“Yes, I knew that from your armor,” said the brute. “You are from Lodidhapura. You stole the girl and they sent soldiers after you. Is that not true?”
“Yes,” replied King.
“It may be hard to take the girl away from the soldiers of Lodidhapura,” said Prang. “We cannot do it by day, for they are many and we are few; but we can find them and follow them; and at night, perhaps, you can sneak into their camp and steal the girl, if she will come with you willingly.”
“She will,” said King; and then: “How long have you lived alone in the jungle, Prang?”
“I ran away when I was a boy. Many rains have come since then. I do not know how many, but it has been a long time.”
As Prang led on through the jungle they conversed but little; enough, however, to assure King that the great, hulking brute had the mind of a little child, and as long as King did nothing to arouse his suspicions or his fears he would be quite docile and tractable. King noticed that Prang was not leading him back over the same route that they had come, and when he asked the man why they were going in a different direction, Prang explained that he knew the trail that the warriors would take in returning to Lodidhapura and that this was a short-cut to it.
In places the jungle was quite open and covered with tall, dry elephant grass, which, growing higher than their heads, obstructed their view in all directions, while the rustling of its leaves as they pushed their way through it drowned all other sounds. At such times King always felt particularly helpless and was relieved each time they emerged from the stifling embrace of the tall grasses; but Prang seemed not at all concerned, although he was walking almost naked and unarmed.
They had passed through a particularly long stretch of elephant grass when they emerged into a clearing entirely destitute of either grass or trees. Beyond the clearing, in front of them, they could see the forest at no great distance, but there was still a narrow belt of elephant grass which they must pass through before they reached the trees.
When they had advanced almost to the centre of this clearing, simultaneously their attention was attracted to a movement among the grasses ahead and to the left of them, and almost at the same moment a cuirassed soldier stepped into view, to be followed immediately by others. At the first glance King recognised that these men were not soldiers from Lodidhapura, for though their armour and harness were similar, they were not identical, and their helmets were of an entirely different pattern from that which he wore. At sight of them Prang halted, then he turned and started to run back in the direction from which they had come. “Run!” he cried, “They are warriors from Pnom Dhek.”
Instantly King realised that these newcomers might prove to be Fou-tan’s salvation if he could guide them to her, but without Prang that might be impossible, and therefore he turned and pursued the fleeing brute. Into the tall elephant grasses, close upon his heels, ran King. “Stop!” commanded the white man.
“Never!” screamed Prang. “They will take me back into slavery. Do not try to stop me, or I shall kill you.” But the capture of Prang meant more to Gordon King than his life, and so he only redoubled his efforts to gain upon the fleeing man. Gradually he crept up upon him until at last he was within reach.
How futile it seemed to attempt to seize that mountain of muscle and bone, yet if he could detain him even momentarily he was positive that the soldiers would overtake them, for at the instant that they had turned to flee he had seen the soldiers from Pnom Dhek start in pursuit.
In King’s experience he had learned but one way to stop a fleeing man without maiming or killing him, which he had no desire to do, although he held in his hands lethal weapons with which he might easily have brought down his quarry; and so he threw aside the spear that he carried and launched himself at the great legs of Prang. It was a noble tackle, and it brought Prang to earth with a resounding crash that almost knocked the wind out of him.
“Hurry!” yelled King to the soldiers of Pnom Dhek. “I have him!” He heard the warriors crashing through the dry grasses behind him.
“Let me go,” cried the struggling Prang. “Let me go or they will take me back into slavery.” But King clung to him in desperation, though it was much like attempting to cling to the business end of a mule, so mighty and vigorous were the kicks of Prang; and then the soldiers of Pnom Dhek arrived and fell upon both of them impartially.
“Don’t kill him!” cried King as he saw the menacing spears of the warriors. “Wait until you hear me.”
“Who are you?” demanded an officer. “What does this all mean? We saw you in company with this fellow; and now, though you are a soldier of Lodivarman, you turn upon your companion and capture him for us. What does it mean?”
“It is a long story,” said King, “and there is no time for explanations now. Somewhere ahead of us there is a girl from Pnom Dhek whom I helped to escape from Lodidhapura. She has just been recaptured by some of Lodivarman’s warriors. This man was guiding me to her. Will you help me to rescue this girl?”
“You are trying to lead me into a trap,” said the officer suspiciously. “I do not believe that there is any girl.”
“Yes, there is a girl,” said Prang.
“Her name is Fou-tan,” said King.
Interest was immediately evident in the eyes of the officer and excitement in the attitude of his men. “I will go with you,” said the officer. “If you have lied to me and this is indeed a trap, you shall die at the first indication of treachery.”
“I am content,” said King; “but there is one more condition. I cannot lead you to the girl; but this man says that he can, and I know that he will do it willingly and quickly if you will promise him his freedom in return for his assistance.”
A sudden gleam of hope shone in Prang’s eyes as he heard King’s words; and he looked up expectantly at the officer, awaiting his reply.
“Certainly,” said the latter. “If he leads us to Fou-tan, he shall have not only his liberty but any other reward that he may desire. I can promise him that.”
“I wish only my freedom,” said Prang.
“Lead on, then,” said the officer. And then as the march started he detailed two warriors to remain constantly at Prang’s side and two with King, and these warriors he instructed to kill their charges at the first indication of treachery.
Evidently interested in King, the officer walked beside him. It was apparent that he had noticed the lack of physical resemblance to the Khmers and his curiosity was aroused. “You do not greatly resemble the men of Lodidhapura,” he said finally.
“I am not of Lodidhapura,” said King.
“But you are in the armour of Lodivarman’s warriors,” insisted the officer.
“I am from a far country,” explained King. “Lost in the jungle, I was taken prisoner by Lodivarman’s warriors. I pleased the King, and he gave me service in the royal guard.”
“But how is it, then, that you are befriending a girl from Pnom Dhek?”
“That, as I told you, is a long story,” said King, “but when we have found her she will corroborate all that I have said. I was forced into the service of Lodivarman. I owe him no loyalty, and should I fall into his hands again I can expect no mercy. Therefore, it had been my intention, when I reached Pnom Dhek with Fou-tan, to seek service in your army.”
“If you have befriended Fou-tan, your petition will not go unheeded,” said the officer.
“You have heard of her, then?” asked King.
The officer gave the American a long, searching look before he replied. “Yes,” he said.