The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [6130]
My spear was ready. I followed.
Desiree was standing exactly in the spot where we had left her, screaming at the top of her voice.
Around her, on every side, was a struggling, pushing mass of the animals we had frightened away from the carcass of the reptile. There were hundreds of them packed tightly together, crowding toward her, some leaping on the backs of others, some trampled to the ground beneath the feet of their fellows. They did not appear to be actually attacking her, but we could not see distinctly.
This we saw in a flash and an instant later had dashed forward into the mass with whirling spears. It was a farce, rather than a fight.
We brought our spears down on the swarm of heads and backs without even troubling to take aim. They pressed against our legs; we waded through as though it were a current of water. Those we hit either fell or ran; they waited for no second blow.
Desiree had ceased her cries.
"They won't hurt you!" Harry had shouted. "Where's your spear?"
"Gone. They came on me before I had time to get it."
"Then kick 'em, push 'em--anything. They're nothing but pigs."
They had the senseless stubbornness of pigs, at least. They seemed absolutely unable to realize that their presence was not desired till they actually felt the spear--utterly devoid even of instinct.
"So this is what you captured for us at the risk of your life!" I shouted to Harry in disgust. "They haven't even sense enough to squeal."
We finally reached Desiree's side and cleared a space round her. But it took us another fifteen minutes of pushing and thrusting and indiscriminate massacre before we routed the brutes. When they did decide to go they lost no time, but scampered away toward the water with a sliding, tumbling rush.
"Gad!" exclaimed Harry, resting on his spear. "And here's a pretty job. Look at that! I wish they'd carry off the dead ones."
"Ugh! The nasty brutes! I was never so frightened in my life," said Desiree.
"You frightened us, all right," Harry retorted. "Utterly fungoed. I never ran so fast in my life. And all you had to do was shake your spear at 'em and say boo! I thought it was the roommate of our friend with the eyes."
"Have I been eating those things?" Desiree demanded.
Harry grinned.
"Yes, and that isn't all. You'll continue to eat 'em as long as I'm the cook. Come on, Paul; it's a day's work."
We dragged the bodies down to the edge of the stream and tossed them into the current, saving three or four for the replenishment of the larder.
I then first tried my hand at the task of skinning and cleaning them, and by the time I had finished was thoroughly disgusted with it and myself. Harry had become hardened to it; he whistled over the job as though he had been born in a butcher's shop.
"I'd rather go hungry," I declared, washing my hands and arms in the cool water.
"Oh, sure," said Harry; "my efforts are never appreciated. I've fed you up till you've finally graduated from the skeleton class, and you immediately begin to criticize the table. I know now what it means to run a boarding-house. Why don't you change your hotel?"
By the time we had finished we were pretty well tired out, but Harry wouldn't hear of rest. I was eager myself for another look at the exit of that stream. So, again taking up our spears, we set out across the cavern, this time with Desiree between us. She swallowed Harry's ridicule of her fear and refused to stay behind.
Again we stood at the point where the stream left the cavern through the broad arch of a tunnel.
"There's a chance there," said Harry, turning to me. "It looks good."
"Yes, if we had a boat," I agreed. "But that's a ten-mile current, and probably deep."
I waded out some twenty feet and was nearly swept beneath the surface as the water circled about my shoulders.
"We couldn't follow that on our feet," I declared, returning to the shore. "But it does look promising. At ten miles an hour we'd reach the western slope in four hours. Four hours to sunshine--but it might as well be four hundred.