As Haverly resumed his climb the voice of the high priest rang out in a thunderous order to the wolf-men. What the command was Silas, of course, could not tell, but he noted that the savages instantly thronged towards the exits, and his alert brain quickly perceived the danger. “Hustle!” he roared to his friends above; “the brutes are going round to outflank us. I’ll be with you presently.” “Right!” Seymour called in return; then he and Mervyn vanished into the tunnel. Three minutes later Haverly reached the ledge. He was drawing himself up on to it when something dark shot downward, striking him full in the face. With a groan he toppled back, swayed for an instant, lost his balance, and pitched heavily into the den. As he lay, almost stunned by the shock of his fall, a fiendish chuckle floated down to him from the ledge above. Looking up he saw the hideous face of Gehari peering down upon him, every feature aglow with malevolent triumph. With a jerk the American drew his revolver and fired at the grinning mask; but the wolf-man promptly ducked, and the shot passed harmlessly over his head. The shot had one effect, however; it aroused the great spider. As Haverly struggled to his feet the brute leapt towards him, its remaining eye gleaming wickedly. Though still somewhat dazed as the result of his fall, Silas had yet the presence of mind to jump aside; but he was just a second too late. A great, hairy leg struck his shoulder; he was sent reeling to the floor, and his weapon, flying from his grasp, skimmed between the bars of the den far out into the temple. Save for his sheath-knife the Yankee was entirely defenceless! With this weapon, however, poor though it was, he prepared to meet his terrible foe. He could see that his only chance was to take the creature in the rear, to stab it from behind. Once let him get within the grip of those terrible claws and no power on earth could save him. A gurgle from Rahee put him upon his guard, and again he evaded the clutch of the giant spider by a bare hand’s-breadth; but he had no opportunity to take the offensive. The brute was far too agile in his movements to give Silas the chance he needed, and a savage chuckle burst from the wolfish brute, who watched the scene from above, as he saw Rahee preparing for another leap. But the chuckle died in his throat, and a hoarse scream of terror rang out over the temple as he felt himself seized from behind. Struggling and clawing, he was swung from his feet, lifted high above the ledge, then hurled with the full force of Seymour’s arms into the den below. He struck the floor with a crash, two feet in front of the crouching spider, and in an instant the brute was upon him. With the screams of the dying savage ringing in his ears, Haverly mounted the wall again, and this time the baronet assisted him up the last few feet of the ascent until he stood on the floor of the passage. Here, turning for an instant, Silas looked back into the den.