He cracked his whip in some trepidation, and forthwith they rushed at him.
Never before had a Beast Man dared to do that.
One he shot through the head; M'ling flung himself upon the other, and the two rolled grappling.
M'ling got his brute under and with his teeth in its throat, and Montgomery shot that too as it struggled in M'ling's grip.
He had some difficulty in inducing M'ling to come on with him.
Thence they had hurried back to me.
On the way, M'ling had suddenly rushed into a thicket and driven out an under-sized Ocelot-man, also blood-stained, and lame through a wound in the foot.
This brute had run a little way and then turned savagely at bay, and Montgomery—with a certain wantonness, I thought—had shot him.
“What does it all mean?” said I.
He shook his head, and turned once more to the brandy.
XVIII. THE FINDING OF MOREAU.
WHEN I saw Montgomery swallow a third dose of brandy, I took it upon myself to interfere.
He was already more than half fuddled.
I told him that some serious thing must have happened to Moreau by this time, or he would have returned before this, and that it behoved us to ascertain what that catastrophe was.
Montgomery raised some feeble objections, and at last agreed.
We had some food, and then all three of us started.
It is possibly due to the tension of my mind, at the time, but even now that start into the hot stillness of the tropical afternoon is a singularly vivid impression.
M'ling went first, his shoulder hunched, his strange black head moving with quick starts as he peered first on this side of the way and then on that.
He was unarmed; his axe he had dropped when he encountered the Swine-man.
Teeth were his weapons, when it came to fighting.
Montgomery followed with stumbling footsteps, his hands in his pockets, his face downcast; he was in a state of muddled sullenness with me on account of the brandy.
My left arm was in a sling (it was lucky it was my left), and I carried my revolver in my right.
Soon we traced a narrow path through the wild luxuriance of the island, going northwestward; and presently M'ling stopped, and became rigid with watchfulness.
Montgomery almost staggered into him, and then stopped too.
Then, listening intently, we heard coming through the trees the sound of voices and footsteps approaching us.
“He is dead,” said a deep, vibrating voice.
“He is not dead; he is not dead,” jabbered another.
“We saw, we saw,” said several voices.
“Hullo!” suddenly shouted Montgomery, “Hullo, there!”
“Confound you!” said I, and gripped my pistol.
There was a silence, then a crashing among the interlacing vegetation, first here, then there, and then half-a-dozen faces appeared,—strange faces, lit by a strange light.
M'ling made a growling noise in his throat.
I recognised the Ape-man: I had indeed already identified his voice, and two of the white-swathed brown-featured creatures I had seen in Montgomery's boat.
With these were the two dappled brutes and that grey, horribly crooked creature who said the Law, with grey hair streaming down its cheeks, heavy grey eyebrows, and grey locks pouring off from a central parting upon its sloping forehead,—a heavy, faceless thing, with strange red eyes, looking at us curiously from amidst the green.
For a space no one spoke.
Then Montgomery hiccoughed,
“Who—said he was dead?”
The Monkey-man looked guiltily at the hairy-grey Thing.
“He is dead,” said this monster. “They saw.”
There was nothing threatening about this detachment, at any rate.
They seemed awestricken and puzzled.
“Where is he?” said Montgomery.
“Beyond,” and the grey creature pointed.
“Is there a Law now?” asked the Monkey-man.
“Is it still to be this and that?
Is he dead indeed?”
“Is there a Law?” repeated the man in white.
“Is there a Law, thou Other with the Whip?”
“He is dead,” said the hairy-grey Thing.
And they all stood watching us.