“Hustle!” he roared to his friends above; “the brutes are going round to outflank us. I’ll be with you presently.”
“Right!” Seymour called in return; then he and Mervyn vanished into the tunnel.
Three minutes later Haverly reached the ledge. He was drawing himself up on to it when something dark shot downward, striking him full in the face. With a groan he toppled back, swayed for an instant, lost his balance, and pitched heavily into the den.
As he lay, almost stunned by the shock of his fall, a fiendish chuckle floated down to him from the ledge above. Looking up he saw the hideous face of Gehari peering down upon him, every feature aglow with malevolent triumph.
With a jerk the American drew his revolver and fired at the grinning mask; but the wolf-man promptly ducked, and the shot passed harmlessly over his head.
The shot had one effect, however; it aroused the great spider. As Haverly struggled to his feet the brute leapt towards him, its remaining eye gleaming wickedly.
Though still somewhat dazed as the result of his fall, Silas had yet the presence of mind to jump aside; but he was just a second too late. A great, hairy leg struck his shoulder; he was sent reeling to the floor, and his weapon, flying from his grasp, skimmed between the bars of the den far out into the temple.
Save for his sheath-knife the Yankee was entirely defenceless!
With this weapon, however, poor though it was, he prepared to meet his terrible foe. He could see that his only chance was to take the creature in the rear, to stab it from behind.
Once let him get within the grip of those terrible claws and no power on earth could save him.