Jewels of Gwahlur
from that terrible gash in his breast, and he lurched drunkenly from
side to side. Suddenly he stumbled, reeled and toppled sidewise--pitched
headlong from the arch and hurtled downward. Girl and jewel chest fell
from his nerveless hands and Muriela's scream rang terribly above the
snarl of the water below.
Conan was almost under the spot from which the creature had fallen. The
monster struck the lower arch glancingly and shot off, but the writhing
figure of the girl struck and clung, and the chest hit the edge of the
span near her. One falling object struck on one side of Conan and one on
the other. Either was within arm's length; for the fraction of a split
second the chest teetered on the edge of the bridge, and Muriela clung
by one arm, her face turned desperately toward Conan, her eyes dilated
with the fear of death and her lips parted in a haunting cry of despair.
Conan did not hesitate, nor did he even glance toward the chest that
held the wealth of an epoch. With a quickness that would have shamed the
spring of a hungry jaguar, he swooped, grasped the girl's arm just as
her fingers slipped from the smooth stone, and snatched her up on the
span with one explosive heave. The chest toppled on over and struck the
water ninety feet below, where the body of the servant of Bît-Yakin had
already vanished. A splash, a jetting flash of foam marked where the
Teeth of Gwahlur disappeared for ever from the sight of the man.
Conan scarcely wasted a downward glance. He darted across the span and
ran up the cliff stair like a cat, carrying the limp girl as if she had
been an infant. A hideous ululation caused him to glance over his
shoulder as he reached the higher arch, to see the other servants
streaming back into the cavern below, blood dripping from their bared
fangs. They raced up the stair that wound from tier to tier, roaring
vengefully; but he slung the girl unceremoniously over his shoulder,
dashed through the tunnel and went down the cliffs like an ape himself,
dropping and springing from hold to hold with breakneck recklessness.
When the fierce countenances looked over the ledge of the aperture, it
was to see the Cimmerian and the girl disappearing into the forest that
surrounded the cliffs.
'Well,' said Conan, setting the girl on her feet within the sheltering
screen of branches, 'we can take our time now. I don't think those
brutes will follow us outside the valley. Anyway, I've got a horse tied
at a water-hole close by, if the lions haven't eaten him. Crom's devils!
What are you crying about now?'
She covered her tear-stained face with her hands, and her slim shoulders
shook with sobs.
'I lost the jewels for you,' she wailed miserably. 'It was my fault. If
I'd obeyed you and stayed out on the ledge, that brute would never have
seen me. You should have caught the gems and let me drown!'
'Yes, I suppose I should,' he agreed. 'But forget it. Never worry about
what's past. And stop crying, will you? That's better. Come on.'
'You mean you're going to keep me? Take me with you?' she asked
hopefully.
'What else do you suppose I'd do with you?' He ran an approving glance
over her figure and grinned at the torn skirt which revealed a generous
expanse of tempting ivory-tinted curves. 'I can use an actress like you.
There's no use going back to Keshia. There's nothing in Keshan now that
I want. We'll go to Punt. The people of Punt worship an ivory woman, and
they wash gold out of the rivers in wicker baskets. I'll tell them that
Keshan is intriguing with Thutmekri to enslave them--which is true--and
that the gods have sent me to protect them--for about a houseful of
gold. If I can manage to smuggle you into their temple to exchange
places with their ivory goddess, we'll skin them out of their jaw teeth
before we get through with them!'