A few blows convinced Bradley that the Wieroos were arrant cowards and
that they bore no weapons, for after two or three had fallen beneath
his fists the others formed a circle about him, but at a safe distance
and contented themselves with threatening and blustering, while those
whom he had felled lay upon the pavement without trying to arise, the
while they moaned and wailed in lugubrious chorus.
Again Bradley strode toward the ladder, and this time the circle parted
before him; but no sooner had he ascended a few rungs than he was
seized by one foot and an effort made to drag him down. With a quick
backward glance the Englishman, clinging firmly to the ladder with both
hands, drew up his free foot and with all the strength of a powerful
leg, planted a heavy shoe squarely in the flat face of the Wieroo that
held him. Shrieking horribly, the creature clapped both hands to its
face and sank to the ground while Bradley clambered quickly the
remaining distance to the roof, though no sooner did he reach the top
of the ladder than a great flapping of wings beneath him warned him
that the Wieroos were rising after him. A moment later they swarmed
about his head as he ran for the apartment in which he had spent the
early hours of the morning after his arrival.
It was but a short distance from the top of the ladder to the doorway,
and Bradley had almost reached his goal when the door flew open and
Fosh-bal-soj stepped out. Immediately the pursuing Wieroos demanded
punishment of the jaal-lu who had so grievously maltreated them.
Fosh-bal-soj listened to their complaints and then with a sudden sweep
of his right hand seized Bradley by the scruff of the neck and hurled
him sprawling through the doorway upon the floor of the chamber.
So sudden was the assault and so surprising the strength of the Wieroo
that the Englishman was taken completely off his guard. When he arose,
the door was closed, and Fosh-bal-soj was standing over him, his
hideous face contorted into an expression of rage and hatred.
"Hyena, snake, lizard!" he screamed. "You would dare lay your low,
vile, profaning hands upon even the lowliest of the Wieroos--the sacred
chosen of Luata!"
Bradley was mad, and so he spoke in a very low, calm voice while a
half-smile played across his lips but his cold, gray eyes were
unsmiling.
"What you did to me just now," he said, "--I am going to kill you for
that," and even as he spoke, he launched himself at the throat of
Fosh-bal-soj. The other Wieroo that had been asleep when Bradley left
the chamber had departed, and the two were alone. Fosh-bal-soj
displayed little of the cowardice of those that had attacked Bradley in
the alleyway, but that may have been because he had so slight
opportunity, for Bradley had him by the throat before he could utter a
cry and with his right hand struck him heavily and repeatedly upon his
face and over his heart--ugly, smashing, short-arm jabs of the sort
that take the fight out of a man in quick time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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