Never had the explorers seen anything to equal this subterranean jungle. The tropical forests of the upper world, with all their floral magnificence, could not compare with the weird beauty of this wonderland. To the mind of the scientist it seemed almost a shame that such superb growths should be produced only to flourish where the eye of man could never drink in the wondrous beauty of their varied forms.
The ground was hidden beneath a mass of trailing fungi, which rioted in luxurious confusion between the larger growths. From its shelter as the party passed numerous small creatures broke, to scurry into the denser growth on either side. A bell-beetle, its antennae clanging furiously, flashed across the track almost beneath the hoofs of Muswani, and disappeared ere Mervyn could catch more than a bare glimpse of its form.
“I must have one of those fellows,” the scientist cried enthusiastically. “If either of you should see another, just knock it over with the butt of your spear.”
As he spoke a second started up almost at his feet. Quickly he pounced upon it, but he released it even more quickly, giving utterance to an exclamation of pain. The creature had bitten his hand severely.
“The brute!” gasped the scientist, binding his handkerchief about the wound, “he’s got jaws like a vice! What’s the matter?” This latter to Chenobi, who had pulled up and leapt from his steed.
“Poison!” the Ayuti cried in his own tongue. “I should have warned you. The bite of the bell-beetle is death!”
“Great heaven!” the scientist gasped; “I did not know. Is there no hope?”
His comrades did not, could not, answer. With haggard faces they looked on, while the king fought the deadly stupor that fast stole over their friend.
Lowering Mervyn gently to the ground, the Ayuti tore up a small, flat fungus from among a number of others growing close by. This he forced between his patient’s teeth, bidding him eat. Mechanically the scientist obeyed.
His three friends were horrified at the terrible power of the beetle’s venom. Though scarce three minutes had passed since Mervyn had been bitten, his lower limbs were already paralysed, and the poison seemed fast mounting to his brain. He appeared unconscious of anything around him, gazing upward with eyes death-like in their glassy stare; the slow movement of his jaws as he munched at the fungi, and the twitching of his eyelids, alone telling that he lived.