Eyes cannot see it--fingers cannot feel it, but he who possess it knows that it is there for it fills his whole breast with a great, wonderful love and worship for something infinitely finer than man's dull senses can gauge--something that guides him into paths far above the plain of soulless beasts and bestial men.
"Let those who will say that I have no soul, for I am satisfied with the soul I have found.It would never permit me to inflict on others the terrible wrong that Professor Maxon has inflicted on me--yet he never doubts his own possession of a soul.It would not allow me to revel in the coarse brutalities of von Horn--and I am sure that von Horn thinks he has a soul.
And if the savage men who came tonight to kill have souls, then I am glad that my soul is after my own choosing--I would not care for one like theirs."The sudden equatorial dawn found the man still musing.
The storm had ceased and as the daylight brought the surroundings to view Number Thirteen became aware that he was not alone in the campong.All about him lay the eleven terrible men whom he had driven from the bungalow the previous night.The sight of them brought a realization of new responsibilities.To leave them here in the campong would mean the immediate death of Professor Maxon and the Chinaman.To turn them into the jungle might mean a similar fate for Virginia Maxon were she wandering about in search of the encampment--Number Thirteen could not believe that she was dead.
It seemed too monstrous to believe that he should never see her again, and he knew so little of death that it was impossible for him to realize that that beautiful creature ever could cease to be filled with the vivacity of life.
The young man had determined to leave the camp himself--partly on account of the cruel words Professor Maxon had hurled at him the night before, but principally in order that he might search for the lost girl.
Of course he had not the remotest idea where to look for her, but as von Horn had explained that they were upon a small island he felt reasonably sure that he should find her in time.
As he looked at the sleeping monsters near him he determined that the only solution of his problem was to take them all with him.Number Twelve lay closest to him, and stepping to his side he nudged him with the butt of the bull whip he still carried.
The creature opened his dull eyes.
"Get up," said Number Thirteen.
Number Twelve rose, looking askance at the bull whip.
"We are not wanted here," said Number Thirteen.
"I am going away and you are all going with me.We shall find a place where we may live in peace and freedom.
Are you not tired of always being penned up?""Yes," replied Number Twelve, still looking at the whip.
"You need not fear the whip," said the young man.
"I shall not use it on those who make no trouble.
Wake the others and tell them what I have said.
All must come with me--those who refuse shall feel the whip."Number Twelve did as he was bid.The creatures mumbled among themselves for a few minutes.Finally Number Thirteen cracked his long whip to attract their attention.
"Come!" he said.
Nine of them shuffled after him as he turned toward the outer gate--only Number Ten and Number Three held back.
The young man walked quickly to where they stood eyeing him sullenly.The others halted to watch--ready to spring upon their new master should the tide of the impending battle turn against him.The two mutineers backed away snarling, their hideous features distorted in rage.
"Come!" repeated Number Thirteen.
"We will stay here," growled Number Ten."We have not yet finished with Maxon."A loop in the butt of the bull whip was about the young man's wrist.Dropping the weapon from his hand it still dangled by the loop.At the same instant he launched himself at the throat of Number Ten, for he realized that a decisive victory now without the aid of the weapon they all feared would make the balance of his work easier.
The brute met the charge with lowered head and outstretched hands, and in another second they were locked in a clinch, tearing at one another like two great gorillas.For a moment Number Three stood watching the battle, and then he too sprang in to aid his fellow mutineer.Number Thirteen was striking heavy blows with his giant hands upon the face and head of his antagonist, while the long, uneven fangs of the latter had found his breast and neck a half dozen times.
Blood covered them both.Number Three threw his enormous weight into the conflict with the frenzy of a mad bull.
Again and again he got a hold upon the young giant's throat only to be shaken loose by the mighty muscles.
The excitement of the conflict was telling upon the malformed minds of the spectators.Presently one who was almost brainless, acting upon the impulse of suggestion, leaped in among the fighters, striking and biting at Number Thirteen.
It was all that was needed--another second found the whole monstrous crew upon the single man.
His mighty strength availed him but little in the unequal conflict--eleven to one were too great odds even for those powerful thews.His great advantage lay in his superior intelligence, but even this seemed futile in the face of the enormous weight of numbers that opposed him.Time and again he had almost shaken himself free only to fall once more--dragged down by hairy arms about his legs.
Hither and thither about the campong the battle raged until the fighting mass rolled against the palisade, and here, at last, with his back to the structure, Number Thirteen regained his feet, and with the heavy stock of the bull whip beat off, for a moment, those nearest him.All were winded, but when those who were left of the eleven original antagonists drew back to regain their breath, the young giant gave them no respite, but leaped among them with the long lash they had such good reason to hate and fear.