_Chapter XXX_
Scream after scream burst from Gloria's lips; taut nerves seemed to snapall through her body like over-stressed violin strings. She ran, rananywhere, ran blindly. She ran into Benny, who clutched at her; she fledaway from him, back toward the darker end of the cave. The low rumble ofa man's laughter answered her; drunken laughter from Brodie. Whetherdrunk with whiskey or with gold or with lust did not matter; drunk hewas. Gloria's shriek rose like a madwoman's; Brodie's thick laughter wasits sinister echo. Another man called out something; the slow, heavyfeet of Swen Brodie were following, following. Boots scuffling, Brodiepursuing with a wide, patient grin; he was in no hurry, he was so sureof her!
His hands were almost on her. Gloria whipped aside and ran again. Hekept between her and the front of the cave; with all of his grinningpatience he was as watchful as a cat. She was driven back and back,deeper and deeper into the narrowing tunnel. He came on. He would beupon her in another half-dozen slow, ponderous strides. She could notpass him; she could not dart forward and out; his arms were widelyextended on either side. He was expecting that. She could only saveherself from him second by second--and the seconds were running outswiftly.
She prayed to God in wild passionate supplication. She prayed for suddendeath, death before those horrid, crooked fingers touched her. But whileshe prayed to God it was of Mark King that she thought. And Mark King,because of her usage of him, was miles and miles away, so far that herdespairing shrieks died without penetrating one-millionth part of theempty wastes across which he had trudged. And still she drew back andback and still she prayed for the miracle as she had done that day whenshe had seen King coming toward her with a rope in his hand, prayed forthe earth to split asunder, for a flame to leap out and consume thebeast crowding closer upon her--to consume him or herself.
At last she was at the end. The end of the passage-way, the end of hope.Brodie came on, his arms out. She could hear him breathing. She couldsmell the whiskey he reeked with.... Beyond him she saw Jarroldsquatting by the fire; Brail leaning on his rifle, guarding theentrance; Benny and the Italian lounging in the shadows. Figures ofhell, watching Brodie's actions with aloof interest ...Brodie made thelast step; she felt his hand on her arm, closing, drawing her forward;the last agonized shriek burst from her....
"Oh, God--oh, dear God----"
She did not hear and Brodie did not hearken to a sudden new sound in thecave grown suddenly still; the sound of a cascade of loose stones. Theycame with a rush, they piled up near the middle of the open cave,dropping from the shadowy rock roof above. But Benny, always on nerveedge, shrilled:
"Look out! A cave-in"
She heard--God had heard----Better crushed under a falling mountainthan in those brute arms.
And then she saw. From ten feet above, straight down dropped somethingelse. Taut nerves of those who saw fancied it a great boulder falling.But no boulder this, which, striking the little pile of rocks, becameanimated, rose, whirled, and----
"Mark!" screamed Gloria. "Mark!"
Turned to stone, incredulous of their eyes, bewildered beyond the powerto move, were those who saw. It was Brail who first understood, Brailthe one man with a gun in his hands. He whipped it up and began firing,nervous and excited. It was after the second shot that King's rifleanswered him; it roared out like the crash of doom in Gloria's ears; shesaw the stabbing spurt of fire. Brail sagged where he stood, crumpledand pitched forward, his rifle clattering loudly against the rocks.
But by now the brief stupor that had locked the other men in staringinaction was gone. Gloria saw figures leaping forward; she knew thatBrodie's hands had relinquished her; she saw Brodie bearing down onKing, roaring inarticulately as he went; she saw Benny and Jarrold andthe Italian bearing down upon him; King was in the midst of all that.They were upon him before Brail's head had struck the ground. They gavehim no time, no space for another shot. He swept his clubbed rifle highover his head; she heard the blow when he struck, the hideous sound of acrushing skull. A man went down, she did not know which one. Only it wasnot Mark--thank God it was not Mark King!
And now King had a little room and an instant of his own as two othermen swerved widely about the falling figure. He fired again, not puttingthe rifle to his shoulder. Another man fell, lay screaming, rolledaside--was forgotten.
"Where's my rifle?" Brodie was yelling.
He couldn't find it in the dark; he couldn't stop to grope for it. ButGloria knew; she remembered. She ran for it, found it, straightened upwith it in her shaking hands.
Again King was using his weapon as a club, since they pressed him soclosely. Again came that terrible sound; Steve Jarrold it was who wentdown. And with it another sound, that of hard wood splintering. Therifle was broken over his head, the stock whirled close to Gloria, Kinghad only the short heavy steel barrel in his hands.
Benny had circled to the far side; Brodie had caught up a great thicklimb of wood. They were coming at King from two sides at once.... Gloriatried to aim, pulled the trigger, tugging frantically. Only then sheremembered to draw the hammer back; it was Brodie's ancient rifle andshe struggled to get it cocked. She shuddered at the report. The bulletsang in front of Benny, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He was nearthe cave's mouth. Gloria pointed, forgot the hammer remembered, got thegun cocked and fired again. Benny plunged wildly forward; she did notknow if she had hit him. He hurled himself headlong toward the narrowexit and through.
She had forgotten Brodie and King! She turned toward them. She did notdare shoot now; King was in the way. He moved aside as if he understoodher trouble; Brodie, grown unthinkably quick of foot, moved with him.Brodie, too, understood. She saw him leap in and strike. The blowlanded, a glancing blow. King seemed to have grown tired; he moved soslowly. But he did move and toward Brodie; he swung his clubbedrifle-barrel and beat at Brodie's great face with it. Beat and missedand almost fell forward. Again Brodie struck; again King beat at him.They moved up and down, back and forth; Brodie was cursing under hisbreath, and at last jeering. King was moving more and more slowly; hisleft arm swung as if it were useless; Brodie swept up his club in bothhands, grunting audibly with every blow.... Oh, if she could onlyshoot ... if she only dared shoot! But Brodie, nimble on his feet thathad been so patiently slow just now, kept King always in front of him,between him and Gloria's rifle.
"I'll get you, King. I'll get you," shouted Brodie, his voice exulting."I always wanted to get you--right!"
There was a crash, the splintering of wood against steel. Both men hadstruck together; Brodie's club had broken to splinters. And therifle-barrel in King's hands flew out of his grip and across the cave,ringing out as it struck. The two men, their hands empty, stood a momentstaring at each other. Then Brodie shouted, a great shout of triumph,and sprang forward. And Mark King, steadying himself, ignoring the hottrickle of blood down his side where Benny's second bullet had torn hisflesh, met him with a cry that was like Brodie's own. In his hot brainthere was no thought of handicap, of odds, of Brodie's advantage. Therewas only the mad rage which had hurled him here, one man against five ina girl's defence, that and a raving, unleashed blood lust, the desire,overshadowing all else, to have Brodie's brute throat in his hands, tobatter Brodie's brute face into the rocks. They met in their onrush liketwo bodies hurled from catapults; they struck and grappled and fell androlled together, one now as they strove, locked in the embrace of death.An embrace in which Brodie's was the greater weight, the greater girth,the greater strength--and Mark King's the greater sheer, clean manhood.
Gloria ran toward them, the rifle shaking in her hands. Brodie fearedher and strove to turn and twist so that she could not shoot. King sawher and shouted in a terrible voice which was not like Mark King'svoice:
"Don't shoot--let me--"
She did not heed; she would shoot--if ever she could be sure that shewould not shoot him. But she did not dare--they thrashed about so madly.They were like octopuses in mortal combat; their arms flailing seemedmore than four arms----
Brodie had his hands at King's throat--King's hands were at Brodie'sthroat. She saw Brodie's bestial face gloating. He was so confident now.She saw his great hands shut down, sinking into the flesh. King's face,when she got one swift glimpse of it, was set, void of expression.King's hands, with tendons bursting, sank deeper and deeper. Then sheunderstood that each man had the grip that he wanted; that it was a merematter now of strength and endurance and will--and that glorious thing,sheer, clean manhood.
They were breathing terribly; they lay stiller, stiller. They did notthrash about so much. Their eyes were starting out of their sockets;their faces were turning purple--or was it the firelight? Men's facescould not look like that--not while the men lived. They gasped now; theydid not breathe.
One of Brodie's hands came away hastily. He began battering at King'sface, battering like a steam-piston. The blows sounded loudly; bloodbroke out under the terrific pounding. King's grip did not alter, didnot shift. His eyes were shut but he clung on, grim, looking a dead man,but a man whose will lasted on after death. Brodie wrenched; they rolledover. Still King's hands did not leave their grip.
They were on their feet, staggering up and down, two men mouldedtogether like one man. Brodie struck blow after blow, and with everythud Gloria winced and felt a pain through her own body. And still Kingheld his grip, both hands sunk deep into the thick throat.
They were apart, two blind, staggering men. What parted them they didnot know and Gloria could not see. Thus they stood for a second only.Brodie lifted his hands--weak hands rising slowly, slowly--uncertainly.King saw him through a gathering mist; Brodie opened his mouth to drawin great sobbing breaths of air. King, the primal rage upon him, saw thegreat double teeth bared, and thought that his enemy was laughing athim. It was King who gathered himself first and struck first. All of thewill he had, all of the endurance left in his battered body, all of thestrength God gave him, he put into that blow. He struck Brodie full inthe face, between the little battered blue eyes. And Brodie fell. Herose; he got to his knees and sagged up and forward. King's shout thenwas to ring through Gloria's memory for days to come; he bore down onSwen Brodie, caught him about the great body, lifted him clear of thefloor and hurled him downward. Brodie struck heavily, his head againstthe rocks. And where he fell he lay--stunned or dead.
"Come," said King to Gloria. "Come quick."
He turned toward the cave's mouth and with one hand began to drag awaythe stones so that they could go out. His other hand was pressed to hisside. His work done, he picked up the rifle at his feet and went out.Gloria, swaying and stumbling, came after him. Neither spoke a word asthey made a slow way through the snow. King went unsteadily withdragging feet. They climbed the cliff laboriously. They were in theircave--it was like home. She dropped down on the fir-boughs, stumbling tothem in the dark.