The Web of the Golden Spider

But she only raised her head and fixed her staring eyes upon the dark cliffs. She looked as though she were listening very intently,–as to a cry from a distance of which she was not sure.

Her lips formed the word “David.” He caught it and it startled him so that for a moment he followed her eyes, listening too. But beyond there was nothing but the sober height of barren rock standing stark against the sky. There was no movement below on the shore; there was no shadow upon the lake. Yet with eyes fixed upon this scene she still called the name, “David, David.”

Sorez placed his hand upon her forehead. He concentrated the full power of his mind upon the quest.

“Below–below–you must look below, not above. You must see nothing but the altar of the Golden One. Below, deep, deep–look, search until you find it.”

Her features became smooth once more and she obeyed the command. She said very distinctly this time.

“The altar is here.”

“Below us?”

“Here.”

He doubted–doubted even as the blood rushed through his veins with the gladness of her words. He doubted as one will to prolong the joy of the truth. But there still remained much else to be learned. It was possible that the treasure was not so great as had been reported. If only she could see it lying there; if only she could tell him of the bars of yellow gold, of the glittering heaps of precious stones, of the jumbled pile of golden plate which had lain there for so long! The thought of it was enough to start the fever of desire. He wished even that he could force her to go down there and bring up to him a bit that he himself could touch and see and weigh. As he stood beside her with the lust of this thing in his eyes, a shadow detached itself from the shore. It may have been only the reflection of a tiny cloud. But there were no clouds. It may have been just a bit of driftwood. But it moved slowly and steadily towards the raft.

Sorez bent above the girl again.

“The Golden Man will tell you. Look into his eyes very hard.”

The girl grasped the image more tightly and obeyed.

“Now go below, deep–deep.”

For some reason, even as she had done in the room when first she had held this thing, she drew back in fear at this.

“No! No!” she pleaded.

But Sorez had lost sight of her as a personality now; she was nothing but a means to this one end; nothing but an adjunct to this heathen idol. He repeated his command more decisively–more sternly. His words were sharp–cold.

The shadow which had left the shore still came nearer–silently, swiftly.

The girl rested her frightened eyes upon the brilliant jewels set below the ugly, squat brow. They glowed in answer. They sparkled like tiny fires. Her face grew strained–her breathing became more rapid.

“Deeper–deeper!”

The shadow had come very near. Had the girl not been looking so intently into the crystal eyes, she could have seen–could have warned. The moon now showed it to be a canoe and in the canoe a man. The man was very lean and his uncovered head was close shaven. His eyes were very like those in the image.

The girl shuddered.

“Deeper–deeper!” came the relentless command.

Her voice came back muffled–as though from a distance.

“It is dark–dark.”

She began to gasp. Then suddenly she placed her hand to her head.

“I see no gold–I see no gold!”

Sorez sank to his knees before the girl. His face was chalk white.

“Gone? Is it gone?”

The shadow was now beside the raft. The shadow was now behind Sorez. The shadow placed one foot upon the raft, but it paused there a moment at the cry which brought Sorez also to attention.

“Father!” screamed the girl. “Father!”

Sorez stared straight ahead of him in a frenzy. Then the shadow sprang, throwing his arms about the tall figure. Without a cry Sorez sank under him. He made a brief struggle but he was too weak to overcome the demon strength of the man who bore him down. With remarkable dexterity, the Priest bound him hand and foot before he had recovered fully from the shock of the fall.

The girl was now murmuring to herself, murmuring the one word “Father.” It was an appealing, frightened cry, full of doubt, uncertainty, and yet of hungry love. For a second it held the attention of both men, the Priest taking a step nearer the girl and looking at her almost curiously.

Sorez knew this was the end. But he was a good gambler; having lost all, he accepted his fate with stoicism. He kept his head clear–clear enough to do the thing which marked him a man. He squirmed about until he faced the girl. With every ounce of strength in him, he shouted his final command to her.

“Awake! Awake!”

The girl stirred uneasily. The Priest reached for his knife, not understanding.

“Awake!” repeated Sorez, and his voice quivered with the intensity of his earnestness. “Awake!”

The girl trembled and seemed to fight her way to consciousness as one after a deep dive struggles to the top. She gasped for breath. Her eyes fluttered open, closed, fluttered open again. She roused herself to a sitting posture and the image dropped from her lap. The Priest snatched it up as the girl shrank back from him. For a moment the two stared at each other. The Priest was held motionless. Then as Sorez hitched a bit to one side, he turned to his work.

Sorez hoped for nothing but a swift end. The cruel face of the other left nothing to question, nothing else to hope. But now that the girl had shaken off the influence of the image he was easier. There was but one thing left to try, even though the eyes looking down into his hinted at nothing of mercy; he must save the girl if possible.

As the Priest bent over him, he found his voice.

“Listen to me a moment. I have nothing to ask for myself, I took my chances and I lost. But the girl here–she is innocent of even wishing for your treasure.”

“Why then is she here?”

“I brought her here.”

“You could not–against her will.”

Sorez moistened his lips and explained: “She came on another mission. She came in search of a father who has been long missing.”

“To this lake–to this spot–with the image in her lap?”

“No–this part of it is at my prompting. She but obeyed me.”

The Priest turned away impatiently. He saw the girl crouching in terror of him. He moved nearer. He saw her black eyes. They remained on his strangely immovable. He felt something of a tremor. Things about him became blurred for a moment. He shook himself free.

“I have heard too many stories,” he said.

“But, good God! you believe this,” burst out Sorez. “You haven’t the heart to revenge yourself upon her? You–”

He checked himself. He knew the man would do as he most feared. This, then, was to be his punishment–to know that he had brought the girl to such an end as this–that he had won her trust and confidence and rewarded it with such torture as this demon might mete out to her. The Priest might even slay her before his eyes. He strained at the rope which bound him until it tore into his flesh. The waters played about the raft. The stars danced in the ripples.