CHAPTER XIX.
“UNDER THE GRAVE YOU DUG ARE GOLD AND PRECIOUS STONES.”
THE creature, whatever it was, came at last, and so silently, too, that Tom was startled. How his heart did beat! It was audible to himself, it caused him even to shake, and he fancied he could even feel the branch of the tree tremble under him.
The figure stood for fully a minute gazing down into the grave; then a sigh escaped it, and descending into the hollow the operation of digging was commenced with vigour. Not with the hands or claws, however, but with a huge white shell; and it was the marks of this on the sides of the excavation that had so alarmed poor Brandy.
The strength of the creature seemed enormous, and the grave got deeper and deeper every minute. But in a short time the figure desisted, and standing up wiped the perspiration from its brow. This was a very human act, and went far to banish fear from Tom’s heart. Almost at the same moment the creature turned its face up towards the moonlight, and Tom was able to satisfy himself it was a man and nothing else.
He made up his mind for instant action now, and just as this skin-clad savage had commenced to dig again he sprang lightly from the tree and stood before him, revolver in hand.
An eldritch scream was the first result of this manœuvre of Tom’s, and the wild man attempted to scramble from the grave.
“Hold, my friend!—hold!” cried Tom. “I am armed. You see my pistol. Do not force me to fire.”
“Fire!—no, no, no!” was the reply in strangely broken and semi-guttural English. “Fire me!—no, no! I surrend—I surrend—I prison—I prison—”
“Yes, you are my prisoner. But you have nothing to fear; only come along with me to my hut. Promise me you will not run away, and I and my black servant will do everything we can for your comfort.”
“You English? No, I fly not from Englishmen. I took you—Spanish—Ecuador.”