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A
NEW FACE
As Professor Maxon and von
Horn rushed
from the workshop to their own campong, they neglected, in their haste,
to lock
the door between, and for the first time since the camp was completed
it stood
unlatched and ajar. The professor had been
engaged in taking
careful measurements of the head of his latest experiment, the while he
coached
the young man in the first rudiments of spoken language, and now the
subject of
his labors found himself suddenly deserted and alone. He had not yet
been
without the four walls of the workshop, as the professor had wished to
keep him
from association with the grotesque results of his earlier experiments,
and now
a natural curiosity tempted him to approach the door through which his
creator
and the man with the bull whip had so suddenly disappeared. He saw before him a great
walled
enclosure roofed by a lofty azure dome, and beyond the walls the tops
of green
trees swaying gently in the soft breezes. His nostrils tasted the
incense of
fresh earth and growing things. For the first time he felt the breath
of
Nature, free and unconfined, upon his brow. He drew his giant frame to
its full
height and drank in the freedom and the sweetness of it all, filling
his great
lungs to their fullest; and with the first taste he learned to hate the
close
and stuffy confines of his prison. His virgin mind was filled
with wonder
at the wealth of new impressions which surged to his brain through
every sense.
He longed for more, and the open gateway of the campong was a scarce
needed
invitation to pass to the wide world beyond. With the free and easy
tread of
utter unconsciousness of self, he passed across the enclosure and
stepped out
into the clearing which lay between the palisade and the jungle. Ah, here was a still more
beautiful
world! The green leaves nodded to him, and at their invitation he came
and the
jungle reached out its million arms to embrace him. Now before him,
behind, on
either side there was naught but glorious green beauty shot with
splashes of
gorgeous color that made him gasp in wonderment. Brilliant birds rose from
amidst it all,
skimming hither and thither above his head — he thought that the
flowers and
the birds were the same, and when he reached out and plucked a blossom,
tenderly, he wondered that it did not flutter in his hand. On and on he
walked,
but slowly, for he must not miss a single sight in the strange and
wonderful
place; and then, of a sudden, the quiet beauty of the scene was harshly
broken
by the crashing of a monster through the underbrush. Number Thirteen was standing
in a little
open place in the jungle when the discordant note first fell upon his
ears, and
as he turned his head in the direction of the sound he was startled at
the
hideous aspect of the thing which broke through the foliage before him.
What a horrid creature! But
on the same
instant his eyes fell upon another borne in the arms of the terrible
one. This
one was different — very different, — soft and beautiful and white. He
wondered
what it all meant, for everything was strange and new to him; but when
he saw
the eyes of the lovely one upon him, and her arms outstretched toward
him,
though he did not understand the words upon her lips, he knew that she
was in
distress. Something told him that it was the ugly thing that carried
her that
was the author of her suffering. Virginia Maxon had been half
unconscious
from fright when she suddenly saw a white man, clothed in coarse,
white, native
pajamas, confronting her and the misshapen beast that was bearing her
away to
what frightful fate she could but conjecture. At the sight of the man her
voice
returned with returning hope, and she reached her arms toward him,
calling upon
him to save her. Although he did not respond she thought that he
understood for
he sprang toward them before her appeal was scarce uttered. As before, when Sing had
threatened to
filch his new possession from him, Number One held the girl with one
hand while
he met the attack of this new assailant with the other; but here was
very
different metal than had succumbed to him before. It is true that Number
Thirteen knew
nothing whatever of personal combat, but Number One had but little
advantage of
him in the matter of experience, while the former was equipped with
great
natural intelligence as well as steel muscles no whit less powerful
than his
deformed predecessor. So it was that the awful
giant found his
single hand helpless to cope with the strength of his foeman, and in a
brief
instant felt powerful fingers clutching at his throat. Still reluctant
to
surrender his hold upon his prize, he beat futilely at the face of his
enemy,
but at last the agony of choking compelled him to drop the girl and
grapple
madly with the man who choked him with one hand and rained mighty and
merciless
blows upon his face and head with the other. His captive sank to the
ground, too weak
from the effects of nervous shock to escape, and with horror-filled
eyes
watched the two who battled over her. She saw that her would-be rescuer
was
young and strong featured — all together a very fine specimen of
manhood; and
to her great wonderment it was soon apparent that he was no unequal
match for
the great mountain of muscle that he fought. Both tore and struck and
clawed and bit
in the frenzy of mad, untutored strife, rolling about on the soft
carpet of the
jungle almost noiselessly except for their heavy breathing and an
occasional
beast-like snarl from Number One. For several minutes they fought thus
until
the younger man succeeded in getting both hands upon the throat of his
adversary, and then, choking relentlessly, he raised the brute with him
from
the ground and rushed him fiercely backward against the stem of a tree.
Again
and again he hurled the monstrous thing upon the unyielding wood, until
at last
it hung helpless and inert in his clutches, then he cast it from him,
and
without another glance at it turned toward the girl. Here was a problem indeed.
Now that he
had won her, what was he to do with her? He was but an adult child,
with the
brain and brawn of a man, and the ignorance and inexperience of the
new-born.
And so he acted as a child acts, in imitation of what it has seen
others do.
The brute had been carrying the lovely creature, therefore that must be
the
thing for him to do, and so he stooped and gathered Virginia Maxon in
his great
arms. She tried to tell him that
she could
walk after a moment's rest, but it was soon evident that he did not
understand
her, as a puzzled expression came to his face and he did not put her
down as
she asked. Instead he stood irresolute for a time, and then moved
slowly
through the jungle. By chance his direction was toward the camp, and
this fact
so relieved the girl's mind that presently she was far from loath to
remain
quietly in his arms. After a moment she gained
courage to
look up into his face. She thought that she never had seen so
marvellously
clean cut features, or a more high and noble countenance, and she
wondered how
it was that this white man was upon the island and she not have known
it.
Possibly he was a new arrival — his presence unguessed even by her
father. That
he was neither English nor American was evident from the fact that he
could not
understand her native tongue. Who could he be! What was he doing upon
their
island! As she watched his face he
suddenly
turned his eyes down upon her, and as she looked hurriedly away she was
furious
with herself as she felt a crimson flush mantle her cheek. The man only
half
sensed, in a vague sort of way, the meaning of the tell tale color and
the
quickly averted eyes; but he became suddenly aware of the pressure of
her
delicate body against his, as he had not been before. Now he kept his
eyes upon
her face as he walked, and a new emotion filled his breast. He did not
understand it, but it was very pleasant, and he knew that it was
because of the
radiant thing that he carried in his arms. The scream that had startled
von Horn
and Professor Maxon led them along the trail toward the east coast of
the
island, and about halfway of the distance they stumbled upon the dazed
and
bloody Sing just as he was on the point of regaining consciousness. "For God's sake, Sing, what
is the
matter?" cried von Horn. "Where is Miss Maxon?" "Big blute, he catchem Linee.
Tly
kill Sing. Head hit tlee. No see any more. Wakee up — all glone,"
moaned
the Chinaman as he tried to gain his feet. "Which way did he take her?"
urged von Horn. Sing's quick eyes scanned the
surrounding jungle, and in a moment, staggering to his feet, he cried,
"Look see, klick! Foot plint!" and ran, weak and reeling drunkenly,
along the broad trail made by the giant creature and its prey. Von Horn and Professor Maxon
followed
closely in Sing's wake, the younger man horrified by the terrible
possibilities
that obtruded themselves into his imagination despite his every effort
to
assure himself that no harm could come to Virginia Maxon before they
reached
her. The girl's father had not spoken since they discovered that she
was
missing from the campong, but his face was white and drawn; his eyes
wide and
glassy as those of one whose mind is on the verge of madness from a
great
nervous shock. The trail of the creature was
bewilderingly erratic. A dozen paces straight through the underbrush,
then a
sharp turn at right angles for no apparent reason, only to veer again
suddenly
in a new direction! Thus, turning and twisting, the tortuous way led
them
toward the south end of the island, until Sing, who was in advance,
gave a
sharp cry of surprise. "Klick! Look see!" he cried
excitedly. "Blig blute dead — vely muchee dead." Von Horn rushed forward to
where the
Chinaman was leaning over the body of Number One. Sure enough, the
great brute
lay motionless, its horrid face even more hideous in death than in
life, if it
were possible. The face was black, the tongue protruded, the skin was
bruised
from the heavy fists of his assailant and the thick skull crushed and
splintered from terrific impact with the tree. Professor Maxon leaned over
von Horn's
shoulder. "Ah, poor Number One," he sighed, "that you should
have come to such an untimely end — my child, my child." Von Horn looked at him, a
tinge of
compassion in his rather hard face. It touched the man that his
employer was at
last shocked from the obsession of his work to a realization of the
love and
duty he owed his daughter; he thought that the professor's last words
referred
to Virginia. "Though there are twelve
more," continued Professor Maxon, "you were my first born son and I
loved you most, dear child." The younger man was
horrified. "My God, Professor!" he
cried.
"Are you mad? Can you call this thing 'child' and mourn over it when
you
do not yet know the fate of your own daughter?" Professor Maxon looked up
sadly.
"You do not understand, Dr. von Horn," he replied coldly, "and
you will oblige me, in the future, by not again referring to the
offspring of
my labors as 'things.'" With an ugly look upon his
face von Horn
turned his back upon the older man — what little feeling of loyalty and
affection he had ever felt for him gone forever. Sing was looking about
for
evidences of the cause of Number One's death and the probable direction
in
which Virginia Maxon had disappeared. "What on earth could have
killed
this enormous brute, Sing? Have you any idea?" asked von Horn. The Chinaman shook his head. "No savvy," he replied.
"Blig flight. Look see," and he pointed to the torn and trampled
turf, the broken bushes, and to one or two small trees that had been
snapped
off by the impact of the two mighty bodies that had struggled back and
forth
about the little clearing. "This way," cried Sing
presently, and started off once more into the brush, but this time in a
northwesterly direction, toward camp. In silence the three men
followed the
new trail, all puzzled beyond measure to account for the death of
Number One at
the hands of what must have been a creature of superhuman strength.
What could
it have been! It was impossible that any of the Malays or lascars could
have
done the thing, and there were no other creatures, brute or human, upon
the
island large enough to have coped even for an instant with the
ferocious
brutality of the dead monster, except — von Horn's brain came to a
sudden halt
at the thought. Could it be? There seemed no other explanation.
Virginia Maxon
had been rescued from one soulless monstrosity to fall into the hands
of
another equally irresponsible and terrifying. Others then must have escaped
from the
campong. Von Horn loosened his guns in their holsters, and took a fresh
grip
upon his bull whip as he urged Sing forward upon the trail. He wondered
which
one it was, but not once did it occur to him that the latest result of
Professor Maxon's experiments could be the rescuer of Virginia Maxon.
In his
mind he could see only the repulsive features of one of the others. Quite unexpectedly they came
upon the
two, and with a shout von Horn leaped forward, his bull whip upraised.
Number
Thirteen turned in surprise at the cry, and sensing a new danger for
her who
lay in his arms, he set her gently upon the ground behind him and
advanced to
meet his assailant. "Out of the way, you —
monstrosity,"
cried von Horn. "If you have harmed Miss Maxon I'll put a bullet in
your
heart!" Number Thirteen did not
understand the
words that the other addressed to him but he interpreted the man's
actions as
menacing, not to himself, but to the creature he now considered his
particular
charge; and so he met the advancing man, more to keep him from the girl
than to
offer him bodily injury for he recognized him as one of the two who had
greeted
his first dawning consciousness. Von Horn, possibly
intentionally,
misinterpreted the other's motive, and raising his bull whip struck
Number
Thirteen a vicious cut across the face, at the same time levelling his
revolver
point blank at the broad beast. But before ever he could pull the
trigger an
avalanche of muscle was upon him, and he went down to the rotting
vegetation of
the jungle with five sinewy fingers at his throat. His revolver exploded
harmlessly in the
air, and then another hand wrenched it from him and hurled it far into
the
underbrush. Number Thirteen knew nothing of the danger of firearms, but
the
noise had startled him and his experience with the stinging cut of the
bull
whip convinced him that this other was some sort of instrument of
torture of
which it would be as well to deprive his antagonist. Virginia Maxon looked on in
horror as
she realized that her rescuer was quickly choking Dr. von Horn to
death. With a
little cry she sprang to her feet and ran toward them, just as her
father
emerged from the underbrush through which he had been struggling in the
trail
of the agile Chinaman and von Horn. Placing her hand upon the great
wrist of
the giant she tried to drag his fingers from von Horn's throat,
pleading
meanwhile with both voice and eyes for the life of the man she thought
loved
her. Again Number Thirteen
translated the
intent without understanding the words, and releasing von Horn
permitted him to
rise. With a bound he was upon his feet and at the same instant brought
his
other gun from his side and levelled it upon the man who had released
him; but
as his finger tightened upon the trigger Virginia Maxon sprang between
them and
grasping von Horn's wrist deflected the muzzle of the gun just as the
cartridge
exploded. Simultaneously Professor Maxon sprang from his grasp and
hurled him
back with the superhuman strength of a maniac. "Fool!" he cried. "What
would you do? Kill — ," and then of a sudden he realized his daughter's
presence and the necessity for keeping the origin of the young giant
from her
knowledge. "I am surprised at you, Dr.
von
Horn," he continued in a more level voice. "You must indeed have
forgotten yourself to thus attack a stranger upon our island until you
know
whether he be friend or foe. Come! Escort my daughter to the camp,
while I make
the proper apologies to this gentleman." As he saw that both Virginia
and von
Horn hesitated, he repeated his command in a peremptory tone, adding;
"Quick, now; do as I bid you." The moment had given von Horn
an
opportunity to regain his self-control, and realizing as well as did
his
employer, but from another motive, the necessity of keeping the truth
from the
girl, he took her arm and led her gently from the scene. At Professor
Maxon's
direction Sing accompanied them. Now in Number Thirteen's brief career he had known no other authority than Professor Maxon's, and so it was that when his master laid a hand upon his wrist he remained beside him while another walked away with the lovely creature he had thought his very own. Until after dark the professor kept the young man hidden in the jungle, and then, safe from detection, led him back to the laboratory. |