The Mucker by Edgar Rice Burroughs

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Theriere and Divine erected a rude shelter for Barbara
Harding close under the foot of the cliff, as far from the water
as possible, while above them Oda Yorimoto watched their
proceedings with beady, glittering eyes. This time a half-dozen
of his fierce samurai crouched at his side. Besides their two
swords these latter bore the primitive spears of their mothers'
savage tribe.

Oda Yorimoto watched the white men upon the beach.
Also, he watched the white girl--even more, possibly, than he
watched the men. He saw the shelter that was being built, and
when it was complete he saw the girl enter it, and he knew
that it was for her alone. Oda Yorimoto sucked in his lips
and his eyes narrowed even more than nature had intended
that they should.

A fire burned before the rude domicile that Barbara Harding
was to occupy, and another, larger fire roared a hundred
yards to the west where the men were congregated about
Blanco, who was attempting to evolve a meal from the miscellany
of his larder that had been cast up by the sea. There
seemed now but little to indicate that the party was divided
into two bitter factions, but when the meal was over Theriere
called his men to a point midway between Barbara's shelter
and the main camp fire. Here he directed them to dispose
themselves for the night as best they could, building a fire of
their own if they chose, for with the coming of darkness the
chill of the tropical night would render a fire more than
acceptable.

All were thoroughly tired and exhausted, so that darkness
had scarce fallen ere the entire camp seemed wrapped in
slumber. And still Oda Yorimoto sat with his samurai upon
the cliff's summit, beady eyes fixed upon his intended prey.

For an hour he sat thus in silence, until, assured that all
were asleep before him, he arose and with a few whispered
instructions commenced the descent of the cliff toward the
cove below. Scarce had he started, however, with his men
stringing in single file behind him, than he came to a sudden
halt, for below him in the camp that lay between the girl's
shelter and the westerly camp a figure had arisen stealthily
from among his fellows.

It was Theriere. Cautiously he moved to a sleeper nearby
whom he shook gently until he had awakened him.

"Hush, Byrne," cautioned the Frenchman. "It is I, Theriere.
Help me awaken the others--see that there is no noise."

"Wot's doin'?" queried the mucker.

"We are going to break camp, and occupy the new location
before that bunch of pirates can beat us to it," whispered
Theriere in reply; "and," he added, "we're going to take the
salvage and the girl with us."

The mucker grinned.

"Gee!" he said. "Won't dey be a sore bunch in de mornin'?"

The work of awakening the balance of the party required
but a few minutes and when the plan was explained to them,
all seemed delighted with the prospect of discomfiting Skipper
Simms and Squint Eye. It was decided that only the eatables
be carried away on the first trip, and that if a second trip was
possible before dawn the clothing, canvas, and cordage that
had been taken from the water might then be purloined.

Miller and Swenson were detailed to bring up the rear with
Miss Harding, assisting her up the steep side of the cliff.
Divine was to act as guide to the new camp, lending a hand
wherever necessary in the scaling of the heights with the loot.

Cautiously the party, with the exception of Divine, Miller,
and Swenson, crept toward the little pile of supplies that were
heaped fifty or sixty feet from the sleeping members of Simms'
faction. The three left behind walked in silence to Barbara
Harding's shelter. Here Divine scratched at the piece of sail
cloth which served as a door until he had succeeded in
awakening the sleeper within. And from above Oda Yorimoto
watched the activity in the little cove with intent and unwavering eyes.

The girl, roused from a fitful slumber, came to the doorway
of her primitive abode, alarmed by this nocturnal summons.

"It is I, Larry," whispered the man. "Are you dressed?"

"Yes," replied the girl, stepping out into the moonlight.
"What do you want? What has happened?"

"We are going to take you away from Simms--Theriere
and I," replied the man, "and establish a safe camp of our
own where they cannot molest you. Theriere and the others
have gone for the supplies now and as soon as they return we
further preparations to make, Barbara, please make haste, as
we must get away from here as quickly as possible. Should
any of Simms' people awaken there is sure to be a fight."

The girl turned back into the shelter to gather together a
handful of wraps that had been saved from the wreck.

Down by the salvage Theriere, Byrne, Bony Sawyer, Red
Sanders, Blanco, and Wison were selecting the goods that they
wished to carry with them. It was found that two trips would
be necessary to carry off the bulk of the rations, so Theriere
sent the mucker to summon Miller and Swenson.

"We'll carry all that eight of us can to the top of the cliffs,"
he said "hide it there and then come back for the balance.
We may be able to get it later if we are unable to make two
trips to the camp tonight."

While they were waiting for Byrne to return with the two
recruits one of the sleepers in Simms' camp stirred. Instantly
the five marauders dropped stealthily to the ground behind the
boxes and casks. Only Theriere kept his eyes above the level
of the top of their shelter that he might watch the movements
of the enemy.

The figure sat up and looked about. It was Ward. Slowly
be arose and approached the pile of salvage. Theriere drew
his revolver, holding it in readiness for an emergency. Should
the first mate look in the direction of Barbara Harding's
shelter he must certainly see the four figures waiting there in
the moonlight. Theriere turned his own head in the direction
of the shelter that he might see how plainly the men there
were visible. To his delight he saw that no one was in sight.
Either they had seen Ward, or for the sake of greater safety
from detection had moved to the opposite side of the shelter.

Ward was quite close to the boxes upon the other side of
which crouched the night raiders. Theriere's finger found the
trigger of his revolver. He was convinced that the mate had
been disturbed by the movement in camp and was investigating.
The Frenchman knew that the search would not end
upon the opposite side of the salvage--in a moment Ward
would be upon them. He was sorry--not for Ward, but because
he had planned to carry the work out quietly and he
hated to have to muss things up with a killing, especially on
Barbara's account.

Ward stopped at one of the water casks. He tipped it up,
filling a tin cup with water, took a long drink, set the cup
back on top of the cask, and, turning, retraced his steps to
his blanket. Theriere could have hugged himself. The man had
suspected nothing. He merely had been thirsty and come over
for a drink--in another moment he would be fast asleep
once more. Sure enough, before Byrne returned with Miller
and Swenson, Theriere could bear the snores of the first mate.

On the first trip to the cliff top eight men carried heavy
burdens, Divine alone remaining to guard Barbara Harding.
The second trip was made with equal dispatch and safety. No
sound or movement came from the camp of the enemy, other
than that of sleeping men. On the second trip Divine and
Theriere each carried a burden up the cliffs, Miller and Swenson
following with Barbara Harding, and as they came Oda
Yorimoto and his samurai slunk back into the shadows that
their prey might pass unobserving.

Theriere had the bulk of the loot hidden in a rocky crevice
just beyond the cliff's summit. Brush torn from the mass of
luxuriant tropical vegetation that covered the ground was
strewn over the cache. All had been accomplished in safety
and without detection. The camp beneath them still lay
wrapped in silence.

The march toward the new camp, under the guidance of
Divine, was immediately undertaken. On the return trip after
the search for water Divine had discovered a well-marked trail
along the edge of the cliffs to a point opposite the spring, and
another leading from the main trail directly to the water. In
his ignorance he had thought these the runways of animals,
whereas they were the age-old highways of the head-hunters.

Now they presented a comparatively quick and easy approach
to the destination of the mutineers, but so narrow a
one as soon to convince Theriere that it was not feasible for
him to move back and forth along the flank of his column.
He had tried it once, but it so greatly inconvenienced and
retarded the heavily laden men that he abandoned the effort,
remaining near the center of the cavalcade until the new camp
was reached.

Here he found a fair-sized space about a clear and plentiful
spring of cold water. Only a few low bushes dotted the grassy
clearing which was almost completely surrounded by dense
and impenetrable jungle. The men had deposited their burdens,
and still Theriere stood waiting for the balance of his
party--Miller and Swenson with Barbara Harding.

But they did not come, and when, in alarm, the entire party
started back in search of them they retraced their steps to the
very brink of the declivity leading to the cove before they
could believe the testimony of their own perceptions--Barbara
Harding and the two sailors had disappeared.

CHAPTER X

BARBARA CAPTURED BY HEAD-HUNTERS

WHEN Barbara Harding, with Miller before and Swenson
behind her, had taken up the march behind the loot-laden
party seven dusky, noiseless shadows had emerged from the
forest to follow close behind.

For half a mile the party moved along the narrow trail
unmolested. Theriere had come back to exchange a half-dozen
words with the girl and had again moved forward toward the
head of the column. Miller was not more than twenty-five feet
behind the first man ahead of him, and Miss Harding and
Swenson followed at intervals of but three or four yards.

Suddenly, without warning, Swenson and Miller fell, pierced
with savage spears, and at the same instant sinewy fingers
gripped Barbara Harding, and a silencing hand was clapped
over her mouth. There had been no sound above the muffled
tread of the seamen. It had all been accomplished so quickly
and so easily that the girl did not comprehend what had
befallen her for several minutes.

In the darkness of the forest she could not clearly distinguish
the forms or features of her abductors, though she
reasoned, as was only natural, that Skipper Simms' party had
become aware of the plot against them and had taken this
means of thwarting a part of it; but when her captors turned
directly into the mazes of the jungle, away from the coast, she
began first to wonder and then to doubt, so that presently
when a small clearing let the moonlight full upon them she
was not surprised to discover that none of the members of the
Halfmoon's company was among her guard.

Barbara Harding had not circled the globe half a dozen
times for nothing. There were few races or nations with whose
history, past and present, she was not fairly familiar, and so
the sight that greeted her eyes was well suited to fill her with
astonishment, for she found herself in the hands of what
appeared to be a party of Japanese warriors of the fifteenth or
sixteenth century. She recognized the medieval arms and armor,
the ancient helmets, the hairdressing of the two-sworded
men of old Japan. At the belts of two of her captors dangled
grisly trophies of the hunt. In the moonlight she saw that they
were the heads of Miller and Swenson.

The girl was horrified. She had thought her lot before as bad
as it could be, but to be in the clutches of these strange, fierce
warriors of a long-dead age was unthinkably worse. That she
could ever have wished to be back upon the Halfmoon would
have seemed, a few days since, incredible; yet that was precisely
what she longed for now.

On through the night marched the little, brown men--grim
and silent--until at last they came to a small village in a valley
away from the coast--a valley that lay nestled high among
lofty mountains. Here were cavelike dwellings burrowed half
under ground, the upper walls and thatched roofs rising scarce
four feet above the level. Granaries on stilts were dotted here
and there among the dwellings.

Into one of the filthy dens Barbara Harding was dragged.
She found a single room in which several native and half-caste
women were sleeping, about them stretched and curled and
perched a motley throng of dirty yellow children, dogs, pigs,
and chickens. It was the palace of Daimio Oda Yorimoto,
Lord of Yoka, as his ancestors had christened their new island
home.

Once within the warren the two samurai who had guarded
Barbara upon the march turned and withdrew--she was
alone with Oda Yorimoto and his family. From the center of
the room depended a swinging shelf upon which a great pile
of grinning skulls rested. At the back of the room was a door
which Barbara had not at first noticed--evidently there was
another apartment to the dwelling.

The girl was given little opportunity to examine her new
prison, for scarce had the guards withdrawn than Oda Yorimoto
approached and grasped her by the arm.

"Come!" he said, in Japanese that was sufficiently similar to
modern Nippon to be easily understood by Barbara Harding.
With the word he drew her toward a sleeping mat on a raised
platform at one side of the room.

One of the women awoke at the sound of the man's voice.
She looked up at Barbara in sullen hatred--otherwise she
gave no indication that she saw anything unusual transpiring.
It was as though an exquisite American belle were a daily
visitor at the Oda Yorimoto home.

"What do you want of me?" cried the frightened girl, in
Japanese.

Oda Yorimoto looked at her in astonishment. Where had
this white girl learned to speak his tongue?

"I am the daimio, Oda Yorimoto," he said. "These are my
wives. Now you are one of them. Come!"

"Not yet--not here!" cried the girl clutching at a straw.
"Wait. Give me time to think. If you do not harm me my
father will reward you fabulously. Ten thousand koku he
would gladly give to have me returned to him safely."

Oda Yorimoto but shook his head.

"Twenty thousand koku!" cried the girl.

Still the daimio shook his head negatively.

"A hundred thousand--name your own price, if you will
but not harm me."

"Silence!" growled the man. "What are even a million koku
to me who only know the word from the legends of my
ancestors. We have no need for koku here, and had we, my
hills are full of the yellow metal which measures its value. No!
you are my woman. Come!"

"Not here! Not here!" pleaded the girl. "There is another
room--away from all these women," and she turned her eyes
toward the door at the opposite side of the chamber.

Oda Yorimoto shrugged his shoulders. That would be
easier than a fight, he argued, and so he led the girl toward
the doorway that she had indicated. Within the room all was
dark, but the daimio moved as one accustomed to the place,
and as he moved through the blackness the girl at his side felt
with stealthy fingers at the man's belt.

At last Oda Yorimoto reached the far side of the long
chamber.

"Here!" he said, and took her by the shoulders.

"Here!" answered the girl in a low, tense voice, and at the
instant that she spoke Oda Yorimoto, Lord of Yoka, felt a
quick tug at his belt, and before he guessed what was to
happen his own short sword had pierced his breast.

A single shriek broke from the lips of the daimio; but it
was so high and shrill and like the shriek of a woman in
mortal terror that the woman in the next room who heard it
but smiled a crooked, wicked smile of hate and turned once
more upon her pallet to sleep.

Again and again Barbara Harding plunged the sword of
the brown man into the still heart, until she knew beyond
peradventure of a doubt that her enemy was forevermore
powerless to injure her. Then she sank, exhausted and trembling,
upon the dirt floor beside the corpse.

When Theriere came to the realization that Barbara Harding
was gone he jumped to the natural conclusion that Ward
and Simms had discovered the ruse that he had worked upon
them just in time to permit them to intercept Miller and
Swenson with the girl, and carry her back to the main camp.

The others were prone to agree with him, though the
mucker grumbled that "it listened fishy." However, all hands
returned cautiously down the face of the cliff, expecting
momentarily to be attacked by the guards which they felt sure
Ward would post in expectation of a return of the mutineers,
the moment they discovered that the girl had been taken from
them; but to the surprise of all they reached the cove without
molestation, and when they had crept cautiously to the vicinity
of the sleepers they discovered that all were there, in peaceful
slumber, just as they had left them a few hours before.

Silently the party retraced its steps up the cliff. Theriere and
Billy Byrne brought up the rear.

"What do you make of it anyway, Byrne?" asked the
Frenchman.

"If you wanta get it straight, cul," replied the mucker,
"I tink youse know a whole lot more about it dan you'd
like to have de rest of us tink."

"What do you mean, Byrne?" cried Theriere. "Out with it
now!"

"Sure I'll out wid it. You didn't tink I was bashful didja?
Wot fer did you detail dem two pikers, Miller and Swenson,
to guard de skirt fer if it wasn't fer some special frame-up of
yer own? Dey never been in our gang, and dats just wot you
wanted 'em fer. It was easy to tip dem off to hike out wid de
squab, and de first chanct you get you'll hike after dem, while
we hold de bag. Tought you'd double-cross us easy, didn't
yeh? Yeh cheap-skate!"

"Byrne," said Theriere, and it was easy to see that only
through the strength of his will-power did he keep his temper,
"you may have cause to suspect the motives of everyone
connected with this outfit. I can't say that I blame you; but I
want you to remember what I say to you now. There was a
time when I fully intended to 'double-cross' you, as you say--
that was before you saved my life. Since then I have been on
the square with you not only in deed but in thought as well. I
give you the word of a man whose word once meant
something--I am playing square with you now except in one
thing, and I shall tell you what that is at once. I do not know
where Miss Harding is, or what has happened to her, and
Miller, and Swenson. That is God's truth. Now for the one
thing that I just mentioned. Recently I changed my intentions
relative to Miss Harding. I was after the money the same as
the rest--that I am free to admit; but now I don't give a
rap for it, and I had intended taking advantage of the first
opportunity to return Miss Harding to civilization unharmed
and without the payment of a penny to anyone. The reason
for my change of heart is my own affair. In all probability
you wouldn't believe the sincerity or honesty of my motives
should I disclose them. I am only telling you these things
because you have accused me of double dealing, and I do not
want the man who saved my life at the risk of his own to
have the slightest grounds to doubt my honesty with him. I've
been a fairly bad egg, Byrne, for a great many years; but, by
George! I'm not entirely rotten yet."

Byrne was silent for a few moments. He, too, had recently
come to the conclusion that possibly he was not entirely rotten
either, and had in a vague and half-formed sort of way
wished for the opportunity to demonstrate the fact, so he was
willing to concede to another that which he craved for himself.

"Yeh listen all right, cul," he said at last; "an' I'm willin' to
take yeh at yer own say-so until I learn different."

"Thanks," said Theriere tersely. "Now we can work together
in the search for Miss Harding; but where, in the name of
all that's holy, are we to start?"

"Why, where we seen her last, of course," replied the
mucker. "Right here on top of dese bluffs."

"Then we can't do anything until daylight," said the
Frenchman.

"Not a ting, and at daylight we'll most likely have a scrap
on our hands from below," and the mucker jerked his thumb
in the direction of the cove.

"I think," said Theriere, "that we had better spend an hour
arming ourselves with sticks and stones. We've a mighty good
position up here. One that we can defend splendidly from an
assault from below, and if we are prepared for them we can
stave 'em off for a while if we need the time to search about
up here for clews to Miss Harding's whereabouts."

And so the party set to work to cut stout bludgeons from
the trees about them, and pile loose fragments of rock in
handy places near the cliff top. Theriere even went so far as to
throw up a low breastwork across the top of the trail up
which the enemy must climb to reach the summit of the cliff.
When they had completed their preparations three men could
have held the place against ten times their own number.

Then they lay down to sleep, leaving Blanco and Divine on
guard, for it had been decided that these two, with Bony
Sawyer, should be left behind on the morrow to hold the cliff
top while the others were searching for clews to the whereabouts
of Barbara Harding. They were to relieve each other at
guard duty during the balance of the night.

Scarce had the first suggestion of dawn lightened the eastern
sky than Divine, who was again on guard, awakened
Theriere. In a moment the others were aroused, and a hasty
raid on the cached provisions made. The lack of water was
keenly felt by all, but it was too far to the spring to chance
taking the time necessary to fetch the much-craved fluid and
those who were to forge into the jungle in search of Barbara
Harding hoped to find water farther inland, while it was
decided to dispatch Bony Sawyer to the spring for water for
those who were to remain on guard at the cliff top.

A hurried breakfast was made on water-soaked ship's biscuit.
Theriere and his searching party stuffed their pockets full
of them, and a moment later the search was on. First the men
traversed the trail toward the spring, looking for indications of
the spot where Barbara Harding had ceased to follow them.
The girl had worn heelless buckskin shoes at the time she was
taken from the Lotus, and these left little or no spoor in the
well-tramped earth of the narrow path; but a careful and
minute examination on the part of Theriere finally resulted in
the detection of a single small footprint a hundred yards from
the point they had struck the trail after ascending the cliffs.
This far at least she had been with them.

The men now spread out upon either side of the track--
Theriere and Red Sanders upon one side, Byrne and Wison
upon the other. Occasionally Theriere would return to the trail
to search for further indications of the spoor they sought.

The party had proceeded in this fashion for nearly half a
mile when suddenly they were attracted by a low exclamation
from the mucker.

"Here!" he called. "Here's Miller an' the Swede, an' they
sure have mussed 'em up turrible."

The others hastened in the direction of his voice, to come
to a horrified halt at the sides of the headless trunks of the
two sailors.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Frenchman, reverting to his
mother tongue as he never did except under the stress of great
excitement.

"Who done it?" queried Red Sanders, looking suspiciously
at the mucker.

"Head-hunters," said Theriere. "God! What an awful fate
for that poor girl!"

Billy Byrne went white.

"Yeh don't mean dat dey've lopped off her block?" he
whispered in an awed voice. Something strange rose in the
mucker's breast at the thought he had just voiced. He did not
attempt to analyze the sensation; but it was far from joy at
the suggestion that the woman he so hated had met a horrible
and disgusting death at the hands of savages.

"I'm afraid not, Byrne," said Theriere, in a voice that none
there would have recognized as that of the harsh and masterful
second officer of the Halfmoon.

"Yer afraid not!" echoed Billy Byrne, in amazement.

"For her sake I hope that they did," said Theriere; "for
such as she it would have been a far less horrible fate than the
one I fear they have reserved her for."

"You mean--" queried Byrne, and then he stopped, for the
realization of just what Theriere did mean swept over him
quite suddenly.

There was no particular reason why Billy Byrne should
have felt toward women the finer sentiments which are so
cherished a possession of those men who have been gently
born and raised, even after they have learned that all women
are not as was the feminine ideal of their boyhood.

Billy's mother, always foul-mouthed and quarrelsome, had
been a veritable demon when drunk, and drunk she had been
whenever she could, by hook or crook, raise the price of
whiskey. Never, to Billy's recollection, had she spoken a word
of endearment to him; and so terribly had she abused him
that even while he was yet a little boy, scarce out of babyhood,
he had learned to view her with a hatred as deep-rooted
as is the affection of most little children for their mothers.

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