She was there--Beatrice was there, and they could see her. There, in the clutches of some monster, horrible and foul! Living yet? Dead?
“Tell me! Does she live?”
“We cannot say, O Kromno. But do not shoot. We will creep close--we, ourselves, will slay, and never touch the woman.”
“No, no! If you do he'll strangle her--provided she still lives! Don't go! Wait! Let me think a second.”
With a tremendous effort Allan mastered himself. The situation far surpassed, in horror, any he had ever known.
There not a hundred yards distant in the dense blackness was Beatrice, in the grip of some unknown and hideous creature. Advance, Allan dared not, lest the creature rend her to tatters. Shoot, he dared not.
Yet something must be done, and quickly, for every second, every fraction of a second, was golden. The merest accident might now mean death or life--life, if the girl still lived!
“Zangamon!”
“Yea, master?”
“Be very bold! Do my bidding!”