The Monster Men

  15

  TOO LATE

  For a moment the two stood in silence; Bulan tortured by thoughts ofthe bitter humiliation that he must suffer when the girl should learnhis identity; Virginia wondering at the sad lines that had come intothe young man's face, and at his silence.

  It was the girl who first spoke. "Who are you," she asked, "to whom Iowe my safety?"

  The man hesitated. To speak aught than the truth had never occurred tohim during his brief existence. He scarcely knew how to lie. To him aquestion demanded but one manner of reply--the facts. But never beforehad he had to face a question where so much depended upon his answer.He tried to form the bitter, galling words; but a vision of that lovelyface suddenly transformed with horror and disgust throttled the name inhis throat.

  "I am Bulan," he said, at last, quietly.

  "Bulan," repeated the girl. "Bulan. Why that is a native name. Youare either an Englishman or an American. What is your true name?"

  "My name is Bulan," he insisted doggedly.

  Virginia Maxon thought that he must have some good reason of his ownfor wishing to conceal his identity. At first she wondered if he couldbe a fugitive from justice--the perpetrator of some horrid crime, whodared not divulge his true name even in the remote fastness of aBornean wilderness; but a glance at his frank and noble countenancedrove every vestige of the traitorous thought from her mind. Herwoman's intuition was sufficient guarantee of the nobility of hischaracter.

  "Then let me thank you, Mr. Bulan," she said, "for the service that youhave rendered a strange and helpless woman."

  He smiled.

  "Just Bulan," he said. "There is no need for Miss or Mister in thesavage jungle, Virginia."

  The girl flushed at the sudden and unexpected use of her given name,and was surprised that she was not offended.

  "How do you know my name?" she asked.

  Bulan saw that he would get into deep water if he attempted to explaintoo much, and, as is ever the way, discovered that one deception hadled him into another; so he determined to forestall future embarrassingqueries by concocting a story immediately to explain his presence andhis knowledge.

  "I lived upon the island near your father's camp," he said. "I knewyou all--by sight."

  "How long have you lived there?" asked the girl. "We thought theisland uninhabited."

  "All my life," replied Bulan truthfully.

  "It is strange," she mused. "I cannot understand it. But themonsters--how is it that they followed you and obeyed your commands?"

  Bulan touched the bull whip that hung at his side.

  "Von Horn taught them to obey this," he said.

  "He used that upon them?" cried the girl in horror.

  "It was the only way," said Bulan. "They were almost brainless--theycould understand nothing else, for they could not reason."

  Virginia shuddered.

  "Where are they now--the balance of them?" she asked.

  "They are dead, poor things," he replied, sadly. "Poor, hideous,unloved, unloving monsters--they gave up their lives for the daughterof the man who made them the awful, repulsive creatures that they were."

  "What do you mean?" cried the girl.

  "I mean that all have been killed searching for you, and battling withyour enemies. They were soulless creatures, but they loved the meanlives they gave up so bravely for you whose father was the author oftheir misery--you owe a great deal to them, Virginia."

  "Poor things," murmured the girl, "but yet they are better off, forwithout brains or souls there could be no happiness in life for them.My father did them a hideous wrong, but it was an unintentional wrong.His mind was crazed with dwelling upon the wonderful discovery he hadmade, and if he wronged them he contemplated a still more terriblewrong to be inflicted upon me, his daughter."

  "I do not understand," said Bulan.

  "It was his intention to give me in marriage to one of his soullessmonsters--to the one he called Number Thirteen. Oh, it is terribleeven to think of the hideousness of it; but now they are all dead hecannot do it even though his poor mind, which seems well again, shouldsuffer a relapse."

  "Why do you loathe them so?" asked Bulan. "Is it because they arehideous, or because they are soulless?"

  "Either fact were enough to make them repulsive," replied the girl,"but it is the fact that they were without souls that made them totallyimpossible--one easily overlooks physical deformity, but the moraldepravity that must be inherent in a creature without a soul mustforever cut him off from intercourse with human beings."

  "And you think that regardless of their physical appearance the factthat they were without souls would have been apparent?" asked Bulan.

  "I am sure of it," cried Virginia. "I would know the moment I set myeyes upon a creature without a soul."

  With all the sorrow that was his, Bulan could scarce repress a smile,for it was quite evident either that it was impossible to perceive asoul, or else that he possessed one.

  "Just how do you distinguish the possessor of a soul?" he asked.

  The girl cast a quick glance up at him.

  "You are making fun of me," she said.

  "Not at all," he replied. "I am just curious as to how souls makethemselves apparent. I have seen men kill one another as beasts kill.I have seen one who was cruel to those within his power, yet they wereall men with souls. I have seen eleven soulless monsters die to savethe daughter of a man whom they believed had wronged them terribly--aman with a soul. How then am I to know what attributes denote thepossession of the immortal spark? How am I to know whether or not Ipossess a soul?"

  Virginia smiled.

  "You are courageous and honorable and chivalrous--those are enough towarrant the belief that you have a soul, were it not apparent from yourcountenance that you are of the higher type of mankind," she said.

  "I hope that you will never change your opinion of me, Virginia," saidthe man; but he knew that there lay before her a severe shock, andbefore him a great sorrow when they should come to where her father wasand the girl should learn the truth concerning him.

  That he did not himself tell her may be forgiven him, for he had only alife of misery to look forward to after she should know that he, too,was equally a soulless monster with the twelve that had preceded him toa merciful death. He would have envied them but for the anticipationof the time that he might be alone with her before she learned thetruth.

  As he pondered the future there came to him the thought that shouldthey never find Professor Maxon or von Horn the girl need never knowbut that he was a human being. He need not lose her then, but alwaysbe near her. The idea grew and with it the mighty temptation to leadVirginia Maxon far into the jungle, and keep her forever from the sightof men. And why not? Had he not saved her where others had failed?Was she not, by all that was just and fair, his?

  Did he owe any loyalty to either her father or von Horn? Already hehad saved Professor Maxon's life, so the obligation, if there was any,lay all against the older man; and three times he had saved Virginia.He would be very kind and good to her. She should be much happier anda thousand times safer than with those others who were so poorlyequipped to protect her.

  As he stood silently gazing out across the jungle beneath them towardthe new sun the girl watched him in a spell of admiration of his strongand noble face, and his perfect physique. What would have been heremotions had she guessed what thoughts were his! It was she who brokethe silence.

  "Can you find the way to the long-house where my father is?" she asked.

  Bulan, startled at the question, looked up from his reverie. The thingmust be faced, then, sooner than he thought. How was he to tell her ofhis intention? It occurred to him to sound her first--possibly shewould make no objection to the plan.

  "You are anxious to return?" he asked.

  "Why, yes, of course, I am," she replied. "My father will be half madwith apprehension, until he knows that I am safe. What a strangequestion, indeed." Still, however, she
did not doubt the motives ofher companion.

  "Suppose we should be unable to find our way to the long-house?" hecontinued.

  "Oh, don't say such a thing," cried the girl. "It would be terrible.I should die of misery and fright and loneliness in this awful jungle.Surely you can find your way to the river--it was but a short marchthrough the jungle from where we landed to the spot at which you tookme away from that fearful Malay."

  The girl's words cast a cloud over Bulan's hopes. The future lookedless roseate with the knowledge that she would be unhappy in the lifethat he had been mapping for them. He was silent--thinking. In hisbreast a riot of conflicting emotions were waging the first greatbattle which was to point the trend of the man's character--would theselfish and the base prevail, or would the noble?

  With the thought of losing her his desire for her companionship becamealmost a mania. To return her to her father and von Horn would be tolose her--of that there could be no doubt, for they would not leave herlong in ignorance of his origin. Then, in addition to being deprivedof her forever, he must suffer the galling mortification of her scorn.

  It was a great deal to ask of a fledgling morality that was yetscarcely cognizant of its untried wings; but even as the man waveredbetween right and wrong there crept into his mind the one great andburning question of his life--had he a soul? And he knew that upon hisdecision of the fate of Virginia Maxon rested to some extent the trueanswer to that question, for, unconsciously, he had worked out his owncrude soul hypothesis which imparted to this invisible entity the powerto direct his actions only for good. Therefore he reasoned thatwickedness presupposed a small and worthless soul, or the entire lackof one.

  That she would hate a soulless creature he accepted as a foregoneconclusion. He desired her respect, and that fact helped him to hisfinal decision, but the thing that decided him was born of the trulychivalrous nature he possessed--he wanted Virginia Maxon to be happy;it mattered not at what cost to him.

  The girl had been watching him closely as he stood silently thinkingafter her last words. She did not know the struggle that the calm facehid; yet she felt that the dragging moments were big with the questionof her fate.

  "Well?" she said at length.

  "We must eat first," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, and not atall as though he was about to renounce his life's happiness, "and thenwe shall set out in search of your father. I shall take you to him,Virginia, if man can find him."

  "I knew that you could," she said, simply, "but how my father and Iever can repay you I do not know--do you?"

  "Yes," said Bulan, and there was a sudden rush of fire to his eyes thatkept Virginia Maxon from urging a detailed explanation of just how shemight repay him.

  In truth she did not know whether to be angry, or frightened, or gladof the truth that she read there; or mortified that it had awakened inher a realization that possibly an analysis of her own interest in thisyoung stranger might reveal more than she had imagined.

  The constraint that suddenly fell upon them was relieved when Bulanmotioned her to follow him back down the trail into the gorge in searchof food. There they sat together upon a fallen tree beside a tinyrivulet, eating the fruit that the man gathered. Often their eyes metas they talked, but always the girl's fell before the open worship ofthe man's.

  Many were the men who had looked in admiration at Virginia Maxon in thepast, but never, she felt, with eyes so clean and brave and honest.There was no guile or evil in them, and because of it she wondered allthe more that she could not face them.

  "What a wonderful soul those eyes portray," she thought, "and howperfectly they assure the safety of my life and honor while their owneris near me."

  And the man thought: "Would that I owned a soul that I might aspire tolive always near her--always to protect her."

  When they had eaten the two set out once more in search of the river,and the confidence that is born of ignorance was theirs, so that beyondeach succeeding tangled barrier of vines and creepers they looked tosee the swirling stream that would lead them to the girl's father.

  On and on they trudged, the man often carrying the girl across therougher obstacles and through the little streams that crossed theirpath, until at last came noon, and yet no sign of the river theysought. The combined jungle craft of the two had been insufficienteither to trace the way that they had come, or point the generaldirection of the river.

  As the afternoon drew to a close Virginia Maxon commenced to loseheart--she was confident that they were lost. Bulan made no pretenceof knowing the way, the most that he would say being that eventuallythey must come to the river. As a matter-of-fact had it not been forthe girl's evident concern he would have been glad to know that theywere irretrievably lost; but for her sake his efforts to find the riverwere conscientious.

  When at last night closed down upon them the girl was, at heart, terrorstricken, but she hid her true state from the man, because she knewthat their plight was no fault of his. The strange and uncanny noisesof the jungle night filled her with the most dreadful forebodings, andwhen a cold, drizzling rain set in upon them her cup of misery was full.

  Bulan rigged a rude shelter for her, making her lie down beneath it,and then he removed his Dyak war-coat and threw it over her, but it washours before her exhausted body overpowered her nervous fright and wona fitful and restless slumber. Several times Virginia became obsessedwith the idea that Bulan had left her alone there in the jungle, butwhen she called his name he answered from close beside her shelter.

  She thought that he had reared another for himself nearby, but even thethought that he might sleep filled her with dread, yet she would notcall to him again, since she knew that he needed his rest even morethan she. And all the night Bulan stood close beside the woman he hadlearned to love--stood almost naked in the chill night air and the coldrain, lest some savage man or beast creep out of the darkness after herwhile he slept.

  The next day with its night, and the next, and the next were butrepetitions of the first. It had become an agony of suffering for theman to fight off sleep longer. The girl read part of the truth in hisheavy eyes and worn face, and tried to force him to take needed rest,but she did not guess that he had not slept for four days and nights.

  At last abused Nature succumbed to the terrific strain that had beenput upon her, and the giant constitution of the man went down beforethe cold and the wet, weakened and impoverished by loss of sleep andinsufficient food; for through the last two days he had been able tofind but little, and that little he had given to the girl, telling herthat he had eaten his fill while he gathered hers.

  It was on the fifth morning, when Virginia awoke, that she found Bulanrolling and tossing upon the wet ground before her shelter, deliriouswith fever. At the sight of the mighty figure reduced to pitiableinefficiency and weakness, despite the knowledge that her protectorcould no longer protect, the fear of the jungle faded from the heart ofthe young girl--she was no more a weak and trembling daughter of aneffete civilization. Instead she was a lioness, watching over andprotecting her sick mate. The analogy did not occur to her, butsomething else did as she saw the flushed face and fever wracked bodyof the man whose appeal to her she would have thought purely physicalhad she given the subject any analytic consideration; and as arealization of his utter helplessness came to her she bent over him andkissed first his forehead and then his lips.

  "What a noble and unselfish love yours has been," she murmured. "Youhave even tried to hide it that my position might be the easier tobear, and now that it may be too late I learn that I love you--that Ihave always loved you. Oh, Bulan, my Bulan, what a cruel fate thatpermitted us to find one another only to die together!"