Quickly he felt for bottom with his feet and as quickly stood erect,
snatching the bloody, clammy cloth from his face. On both sides were
blank walls and before him the river turned a sharp corner and
disappeared. Feeling his way cautiously forward he approached the turn
and looked around the corner. To his left was a low platform about a
foot above the level of the stream, and onto this he lost no time in
climbing, for he was soaked from head to foot, cold and almost
exhausted.
As he lay resting on the skull-paved shelf, he saw in the center of the
vault above the river another of those sinister round holes through
which he momentarily expected to see a headless corpse shoot downward
in its last plunge to a watery grave. A few feet along the platform a
closed door broke the blankness of the wall. As he lay looking at it
and wondering what lay behind, his mind filled with fragments of many
wild schemes of escape, it opened and a white robed Wieroo stepped out
upon the platform. The creature carried a large wooden basin filled
with rubbish. Its eyes were not upon Bradley, who drew himself to a
squatting position and crouched as far back in the corner of the niche
in which the platform was set as he could force himself. The Wieroo
stepped to the edge of the platform and dumped the rubbish into the
stream. If it turned away from him as it started to retrace its steps
to the doorway, there was a small chance that it might not see him; but
if it turned toward him there was none at all. Bradley held his breath.
The Wieroo paused a moment, gazing down into the water, then it
straightened up and turned toward the Englishman. Bradley did not
move. The Wieroo stopped and stared intently at him. It approached
him questioningly. Still Bradley remained as though carved of stone.
The creature was directly in front of him. It stopped. There was no
chance on earth that it would not discover what he was.
With the quickness of a cat, Bradley sprang to his feet and with all
his great strength, backed by his heavy weight, struck the Wieroo upon
the point of the chin. Without a sound the thing crumpled to the
platform, while Bradley, acting almost instinctively to the urge of the
first law of nature, rolled the inanimate body over the edge into the
river.
Then he looked at the open doorway, crossed the platform and peered
within the apartment beyond. What he saw was a large room, dimly
lighted, and about the side rows of wooden vessels stacked one upon
another. There was no Wieroo in sight, so the Englishman entered. At
the far end of the room was another door, and as he crossed toward it,
he glanced into some of the vessels, which he found were filled with
dried fruits, vegetables and fish. Without more ado he stuffed his
pockets and his haversack full, thinking of the poor creature awaiting
his return in the gloom of the Place of Seven Skulls.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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