CHAPTER VII
_Jamboree_
Two hours later their eyes were taking in a fantastic, mad scene, onethat in some ways might have occurred in the days when buccaneersroamed the Spanish Main of Earth.
A little over a hundred yards away, straight before them, was thecorral of the phantis: far behind it encroached the shadowy fringe ofthe jungle: to their right, closer to the corral than to the spaceships, was the ranch house, lonely now and silent. But these objectswere only the background for what had grown in front of the corralwire.
It was the roaring mass of the monster fire that had been lit, asplash of fierce, leaping flames in the velvety cool of the night.Black shapes were clustered around it; bottles were raised anddrained; and a frieze of shadows, staggered and jumped and dancedaround the ruddy pile of fire. The carousal was in full swing; achorus of wild song rose noisily into the night; more cases weresmashed open and more alkite drawn out. The carcases of three animalstaken from the ranch's storehouse sizzled on the barbecue pits, to beripped apart and the rich, dripping meat torn at, tooth and claw. Everhigher pierced the shrieks and oaths, till the calm night wasdistorted and crazy.
Other heavier sounds accompanied the bedlam of human noise: deepsnortings and roarings and the scraping of scores of horn-shod feet.Behind their wired electric fence was clustered the herd of phantis,staring with their evil, red-shot little eyes at the flames and theshapes of the hated men. The big bulls were bellowing, bucking theirheads angrily, churning up the soft soil with their strong,dagger-spurred feet: the welter of noise and the sight of so many menhad wrought them up into a vicious and dangerous state.
Judd the Kite, a bottle in one hand and in the other a huge joint ofmeat which he was tearing at with his teeth, suddenly paused withmouth crammed full and stared over through the flickering light at thephanti corral. A cruel light gleamed in his eyes: he gulped down themeat and then turned to the shapes staggering around him. He yelled:
"Hey, there--let's get out the nigger! A little entertainment,fellows! Bring him out; but don't touch Carse: he's Ku Sui's. Dousehim with water if he's unconscious."
* * * * *
They yelled in drunken delight at his words, and half of them reeledoff towards the _Star Devil_. Judd, lips up-curved in a smile, drewhis ray-gun and set the lever over for the low-power, continuousray-stream. These guns, unlike our present weapons, could shoot in twoways: they could spit about twenty high-power discharges, a fractionof a second each in duration and easily sufficient to burn a man'shead through; or they could deliver a long-lasting low-power stream,just strong enough to sear and crisp a human skin. For theentertainment Judd had in mind he needed low power.
The men sent to the _Star Devil_ shoved past the guards on watch nearthe port-lock and over to the prisoners. They found them lying, veryclose together near the after wall.
"Gonna have some fun with the black, Judd's orders," they explained tothe guards. "Still unconscious?"
Certainly Friday looked unconscious, his eyes closed, his full lipsslightly parted, showing the powerful white teeth.
"I'll give him a shot of the ray," another brigand cut in. "That'llbring him to. Be ready to grab him."
They got an unpleasant shock when the low-power stream flicked thenegro's leg. With a gigantic bellow that rang throughout the ship,Friday resisted.
It was like seeing a dead man come to life, and it startled them.Bound as he was, Friday made things unhealthy for his would-becaptors; he shunted his legs up and down and squirmed mightily, andonce his gleaming teeth snapped into an arm, bringing a howl of painand several minutes of cursing. The unexpected resistance, once thesurprise was over, infuriated the rum-sodden men. One of them yelled:"Sock him; Shorty!" A ray-gun's butt was slapped down on Friday'shead; the negro rolled over, stunned. Then he was picked up withoutresistance and borne out into the night, where fantastic figurescavorted around the towering fire.
"The black devil was faking all the time!" one of the guards saidamazedly. "He wasn't unconscious. What in hell did he do that for?"
"Dunno," snarled the other, rubbing a bruised leg. "Must havesuspected what he's gonna get. Wish we was over there."
"Well, we can watch from here," grumbled his companion, and returnedto the seats by the port-lock.
They both sat down, their backs half turned to the figure still lyingon the deck.
* * * * *
Carse had said nothing, made no protest, had not even moved whenFriday struggled in fierce resistance. He could have done much more,but it would have been useless. Long before, he had seen the negro'sopening eyes and signaled him to feign unconsciousness thus deflectingattention and making him appear harmless. He had also broached hisplan for escape to Friday. He had not, however, reckoned on Judd'sdesire to torture: he would, he now saw, have to act with his greatestspeed to save his mate from as much pain as possible.
And he began to act.
The control cabin was streaked with patches of shadow and light, madevague by pools of darkness thrown by the banks of instruments. Onlyone lighting tube was dimly burning. In this indefinite half-light theHawk set about stalking his prey.
With eyes narrowed and steady on the two guards who were completelyabsorbed in the happenings outside, he drew his hands from beneathhim. They were no longer bound. The rope knotted around them had beengnawed through strand by strand--sliced by the strong white teeth of anegro....
Cautiously, without a whisper of sound, Carse reached towards thebonds on his legs. The lean fingers worked rapidly. Quickly the knots,yielded and the rope was unwound. The legs were free. For a momentHawk Carse, ever with careful calculation of time, stretched hiscramped muscles, limbering them for action.
A mutter came from the port-lock. He froze. But it was only:
"Look at 'im! This is goin' to be good! Judd gets some damn cleverideas!"
They were utterly wrapped up in the scene outside, and unconscious ofthe low blot that moved with steely purpose behind them.
* * * * *
The Hawk got to hands and knees; moved forward, the ghost of a shadow.The two men who were his quarry were sitting close together, hunched alittle forward in their eagerness not to miss a single detail. Theirheads were not a foot apart. Each wore a ray-gun and had another lyingon the deck at his side.
Carse came near to their backs. He paused, imperceptibly tensed,judged the distance carefully. Then in a sudden, snake-like movement,he sprang.
A forearm of steel clamped around the back of each guard's head andjerked it sharply into the other's. There was a quick crack; then,dazed, only half-conscious, the two men toppled off their seats andfell to the deck.
"Quiet!" warned an icy whisper. They stared, gaping, then staggered upto their feet.
A ray-gun that just before had been lying on the deck was leveledsteadily at them, held in the hand of a gray-eyed man whose finefeatures were as if graven from stone and on whose wrists were deepblue lines that showed where ropes had pressed. The guards' faceswhitened as realization came. One of them choked:
"It's him!"
"Yes," whispered the Hawk dryly. He took a few steps backward, eyesnot moving. "Go to that locker," he said to the shorter of the men,indicating with a curt nod the place where space suits were stowed."First draw your gun and lay it on that table. Hurry!"
The man hastily complied. Anything else was unthinkable; meant quickand lonely and useless death. Shouts and laughter and drunken shriekswere echoing from outside. No one would have ears for him.
When he had stepped into the locker, Carse closed and sealed the door.
"What you goin' to do with me?" croaked the remaining guard. He wasbig and burly and he towered inches over the figure facing him, buthis lips were trembling and his eyes wild with fear.
"You," whispered the Hawk frigidly, "kicked me when I was bound." Hesheathed his ray-gun in his holster, then spoke again. "Go for yourgun."
&nb
sp; The pirate trembled all over. His mouth fell open, and his eyes stuckon Carse's shabby holster. He seemed half hypnotized.
"Draw."
The other's swarthy brow beaded with sudden-starting sweat. His handshung limp, twitching at the finger-tips. He watched death stare him inthe face.
"Damn you, Carse!" he burst out and suddenly went for his ray.
* * * * *
Carse deliberately let him get the gun out. Not until then did hisleft hand move. But even with such a head-start, so bewildering wasthe adventurer's speed that only one streak of orange light made aflash in the cabin, and that streak was the Hawk's. The brigandquivered, his face still contorted with his last desperate emotion;then he fell slowly forward and thudded into the deck. His bodytwitched a little, and in a spasm rolled over. Square between the eyeswas a crisp, smooth-burned hole.
Hawk Carse gave the body not a glance, but sheathed his ray-gun,picked up the three others, stuck them in his belt, and glided to theport-lock. There, he peered outside.
His face hardened.
Blobs of flame that flared from wood torches were clustered about thenearest side of the phanti corral. A dark blur of figures were ringedin a half-circle, and from it came yells of delight and almosthysterical laughter. The Hawk's eyes were chilling to look at when hesaw, through gaps in the circle of black shapes, the figure of a hugenegro, standing with his back almost touching the wire fence of thecorral. The actions of Friday gave the clue to what was happening.
He was caught in a broad ray of orange light, and in it he shudderedand hopped grotesquely from one leg to the other in an agony of pain,his lips drawn back taut over the gleaming teeth, his face flexed andthe whites of his eyes showing as the eyeballs rolled. The glow thatin part hung around him streamed from a ray-gun that was held in theright hand of Judd the Kite. Heat! Friday was being slowly crispedalive; seared on his feet in a furnace of heat: and the men who ringedhim were yelling advice at him between their laughter. Carse strainedhis ears. In a jumble, he caught:
"Jump over"--"Nah, he'd have to climb"--"Climb! The juice'scut!"--"Into the corral!"--"Climb over, you black buzzard"--"Hoowee!"
* * * * *
About a foot behind Friday was the wire fence, behind which thephantis, their snouts converged towards the pirates, their red-shoteyes glaring, their powerful hind feet clawing at the ground, werebellowing in wild and ferocious excitement. Sudden, awful death waitedon the other side of the fence; slow death by burning on this side.Yet Friday still hoped, still had faith in his master, for he did notput a quick end to his living death by rushing the devilish circle orclambering over into the thick of the sharp stabbing spurs.
Carse's brain moved with the swiftness of light. He could not rush thegroup: the odds were too great, and besides, Judd's gun was alreadyout. Nor could he dive at them with the _Star Devil_ itself, or raythem from above: that would mean Friday's death too. It would have tobe something else--and in a moment he had it. Carefully he examinedall variations and checked the scheme back: it promised to be thefinal move, engendering the final meeting, and there must be no slip.
First, the Hawk slipped shadow-like to the entrance port of the otherspace ship, lying a few hundred feet away, shrouded in darkness. Hehad to know if anyone were aboard.
Gruffly he called inside:
"Judd! Hey, Judd! You there?"
There was no answer. Again he called, but the gloomy interior'ssilence was not broken. Satisfied that it was empty, he doubled backwith noiseless speed, skirted round the _Star Devil_ and arrived likea wind-carried wraith at the rear wall of the ranch house.
A short leap and his hands closed on the copper drain. The muscles ofhis wiry arms flexed, and the lean figure raised himself foot by footto the eaves, where a pull and press up brought him over the edge.Stooping, he padded to the side which faced on the clearing and thecorral.
And then the ray-gun was drawn from its holster.
For seconds the cold gray eyes reckoned the shooting distance and theangle. The weapon came up and rested at arm's length. The first fingerof the deadly left hand began to squeeze back.
A pencil-thin streak of orange light speared the air!