He merely whined about, uneasily, a time, and then returned to his post.
Without waiting to let him lose himself in sleep, I led and cleared the
way, moving as slowly as a frozen tortoise, for a considerable time,
while the goddess followed, as silently as my shadow.
Past the clearing, where the gilded skeleton hung in the moonlight we
glided. Here I saw the stiffened form of Grin, lying stark on the earth.
The deep, mysterious rumble of the gold-cauldron began anew.
“Now hurry, while this racket drowns out all the noise we can make,” I
whispered.
We made no mean bit of progress while the noise continued, after which I
felt there was no more need of particular care. The jungle thickets were
fearfully dark, as soon as we got away from the clearings, and I was
obliged to forge ahead as best I could, guided only by my sense of
direction.
Half an hour went by and although we should have been at the river,
where the boat was on the bank, there was no immediate prospect of our
coming to the proper place. In the midst of my efforts, mental and
physical, to extricate myself and the girl from the maze, a peculiar
shriek went up in the distance behind us. I paused, inquiringly.
“Oh—that is the voice of the horrid old woman,” said the goddess
anxiously. “I think she has found I have gone.”
“The deuce!” said I. “She has alarmed the whole works, the old villain!”
Judging by the noise which was raised one would have thought she had
awakened the whole world. I was certain every Link in the camp was up
and dancing about that clearing in the wildest confusion.
“Come ahead,” said I, calmly enough, “they are all afraid of the woods
at night; they will never catch us now—unless the morning overtakes us
before we reach the river.”
I knew she shuddered, but like a brave, good girl she made no fuss. As
for the racket, it furnished me with a bearing, as it were. Knowing
where their settlement was, I knew the approximate direction in which
the boat should be found. Indeed before we had travelled another fifty
yards I caught a gleam of reflected moonlight from Outlet river and knew
my way directly.
“It’s lucky that beastly old woman didn’t make her discovery sooner,”
said I.
“Yes,” replied the trembling voice of the goddess, “that was why I kept
you waiting so long; she wouldn’t go to sleep.”
“Um,” was all I muttered. I was thinking about that crimping of her
hair, poor girl, and the putting on of tight, new gloves.
We reached the boat, to my intense relief. “Please get in and make
yourself as comfortable as possible,” said I, and ripping off the
bear-skin, I flung it down to make her a seat.
Out into the limpid stream I shoved my clumsy but beloved craft, and
manning the oars I swung her about, headed her toward the lake and made
the liquid silver shiver from the prow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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