The vengeance of the high priest of the wolf-men had failed!
“I guess we scored that time,” Silas said; “but I’m sorry for the tuskers. It was real cute of the niggers to stampede the brutes.”
“Thanks to you and the puff-balls,” put in Seymour, “the trick didn’t work.”
Mervyn had not yet recovered from his stupefaction at the marvellous explosive agent which was hidden away in the quaint fungi; but when he did at last find voice he could scarcely find words to express his wonder.
“It passes all belief,” he cried, “that such curious growths should have so deadly a power! They are natural bombs!”
The scene of the explosion entirely bore out this statement. The gorge was completely blocked by an enormous mass of débris, still quivering flesh and rock splinters being mingled in sickening confusion. Of all the herd of monster quadrupeds not one had escaped annihilation.
Turning, the three friends strode forward on their way, Mervyn dilating as they went on the subject of the explosive fungi.
“I guess them niggers’ll be considerable riled,” Haverly asserted with a chuckle, breaking in on the scientist’s discourse. “It ’ud be almighty elevating to see the old priest’s face when he knows we’ve pulled through an’ that his trick’s gone bust.”
“The fellow possesses terrible power,” Mervyn returned. “He almost succeeded in hypnotising me, though I struggled against him with all the force of my will. I tremble now to think of what might have happened had he effected his purpose.”
“Great Scott!” Seymour ejaculated. “Though I only saw him from a distance, it struck me that he had remarkably weird eyes, but I never imagined that the fellow was a hypnotist. We must fight shy of him for the future.”