The Land That Time Forgot, Edgar Rice Burroughs [books suggested by bill gates TXT] 📗

“He shall not hear,” returned the first Wieroo as, with a powerful motion of his great wings, he launched himself upon the red-robed figure. The latter dodged the first charge, drew a wicked-looking curved blade from beneath its red robe, spread its wings and dived for its antagonist. Beating their wings, wailing and groaning, the two hideous things sparred for position. The white-robed one being unarmed sought to grasp the other by the wrist of its knife-hand and by the throat, while the latter hopped around on its dainty white feet, seeking an opening for a mortal blow. Once it struck and missed, and then the other rushed in and clinched, at the same time securing both the holds it sought. Immediately the two commenced beating at each other’s heads with the joints of their wings, kicking with their soft, puny feet and biting, each at the other’s face.

In the meantime the girl moved about the room, keeping out of the way of the duelists, and as she did so, Bradley caught a glimpse of her full face and immediately recognized her as the girl of the place of the yellow door. He did not dare intervene now until one of the Wieroo had overcome the other, lest the two should turn upon him at once, when the chances were fair that he would be defeated in so unequal a battle as the curved blade of the red Wieroo would render it, and so he waited, watching the white-robed figure slowly choking the life from him of the red robe. The protruding tongue and the popping eyes proclaimed that the end was near and a moment later the red robe sank to the floor of the room, the curved blade slipping from nerveless fingers. For an instant longer the victor clung to the throat of his defeated antagonist and then he rose, dragging the body after him, and approached the central column. Here he raised the body and thrust it into the aperture where Bradley saw it drop suddenly from sight. Instantly there flashed into his memory the circular openings in the roof of the river vault and the corpses he had seen drop from them to the water beneath.

As the body disappeared, the Wieroo turned and cast about the room for the girl. For a moment he stood eying her. “You saw,” he muttered, “and if you tell them, He Who Speaks for Luata will have my wings severed while still I live and my head will be severed and I shall be cast into the River of Death, for thus it happens even to the highest who slay one of the red robe. You saw, and you must die!” he ended with a scream as he rushed upon the girl.

Bradley waited no longer. Leaping into the room he ran for the Wieroo, who had already seized the girl, and as he ran, he stooped and picked up the curved blade. The creature’s back was toward him as, with his left hand, he seized it by the neck. Like a flash the great wings beat backward as the creature turned, and Bradley was swept from his feet, though he still retained his hold upon the blade. Instantly the Wieroo was upon him. Bradley lay slightly raised upon his left elbow, his right arm free, and as the thing came close, he cut at the hideous face with all the strength that lay within him. The blade struck at the junction of the neck and torso and with such force as to completely decapitate the Wieroo, the hideous head dropping to the floor and the body falling forward upon the Englishman. Pushing it from him he rose to his feet and faced the wide-eyed girl.

“Luata!” she exclaimed. “How came you here?”

Bradley shrugged. “Here I am,” he said; “but the thing now is to get out of here⁠—both of us.”

The girl shook her head. “It cannot be,” she stated sadly.

“That is what I thought when they dropped me into the Blue Place of Seven Skulls,” replied Bradley. “Can’t be done. I did it.⁠—Here! You’re mussing up the floor something awful, you.” This last to the dead Wieroo as he stooped and dragged the corpse to the central shaft, where he raised it to the aperture and let it slip into the tube. Then he picked up the head and tossed it after the body. “Don’t be so glum,” he admonished the former as he carried it toward the well; “smile!”

“But how can he smile?” questioned the girl, a half-puzzled, half-frightened look upon her face. “He is dead.”

“That’s so,” admitted Bradley, “and I suppose he does feel a bit cut up about it.”

The girl shook her head and edged away from the man⁠—toward the door.

“Come!” said the Englishman. “We’ve got to get out of here. If you don’t know a better way than the river, it’s the river then.”

The girl still eyed him askance. “But how could he smile when he was dead?”

Bradley laughed aloud. “I thought we English were supposed to have the least sense of humor of any people in the world,” he cried; “but now I’ve found one human being who hasn’t any. Of course you don’t know half I’m saying; but don’t worry, little girl; I’m not going to hurt you, and if I can get you out of here, I’ll do it.”

Even if she did not understand all he said, she at least read something in his smiling countenance⁠—something which reassured her. “I do not fear you,” she said; “though I do not understand all that you say even though you speak my own tongue and use words that I know. But as for escaping”⁠—she sighed⁠—“alas, how can it be done?”

“I escaped from the Blue Place of Seven Skulls,” Bradley reminded her. “Come!” And he turned toward the shaft and the ladder that he had ascended from the river. “We cannot waste time here.”

The girl followed him; but