"I have, and the thing has two of these sticking in it to their full length," showing the bone daggers. "I have a recollection, too, of smiting hard with this noble knob-stick, but it was like smiting the hardest kind of tortoise shell. Not yet, however, is the time to talk. Go first, Lindela—go first."
She obeyed him now without further demur, and soon he had joined her, for this climb was neither so long nor so difficult as the first.
Laurence now saw that they were high up on a mountain top. Great peaks, some snow-capped, towered aloft—and far away beneath stretched a billowy expanse of country, dim, misty in the moonlight. The air was keen and chill, and with something of a shiver Lindela resumed her light upper covering, which she had laid aside in order to give full freedom to body and limbs.
"And you have met and fought with that," she began, pointing downwards, "and are still alive? Why, Nyonyoba, you have done that which no man has ever done before. How did you do it? With the bones of dead men? Ha! you are indeed great, Nyonyoba, great indeed. Yet—what a thought!"
"A good thought truly. Still, had it occurred to those who went before me they might have done the same. Yet not—for there was another force that saved me which they lacked."
"Ha! another force?"
"Yes, the Sign of the Spider. The Spider itself was powerless against that."
He drew forth the metal box, and for the first time examined it. By the light of the moon he could discern two slight dents; one upon the border of the quaint sprawling initials, where the nippers of the monster had struck. For the moment he forgot Lindela, forgot the surroundings, forgot where he was, remembering only Lilith. Three times had Lilith's love interposed between him and certain death—three times most unequivocally. And this third time, from what unutterably horrible form of death! Those poisoned fangs. The very thought made him shudder.
"You are cold, beloved. See, here are coverings. I have thought of everything."