The colour flowed back into the face of the scientist little by little. Turning his back on the party, he stooped and picked up revolver and whip, then stood looking down at that which lay in the blackness of the hole.
Hammer wanted to scream, but he could not, for some unseen power had paralysed his muscles. He wondered, idly, what lay in that hole, but he was more interested in watching the big Saxon. He had never seen Krausz so completely overcome before, he thought, and it made him want to laugh.
"By Godfrey!" He shook himself, conquering that terrible apathy. "You've got to quit this, old man, or God knows what'll happen. That chap is breeding trouble and first thing you know he'll spring something bad."
Why the thought came to him he could not tell, but come it did. Krausz turned, with a nervous glance around at the silent trees, but there was no danger in his face, save that the tell-tale ribbon of muscle was pounding madly.
Then once more the scientist went to the brink of the hole and looked down. It was as if he were reflecting on something, weighing something over in his mind before coming to a decision.
A half-sound caught Hammer's attention and he looked at Sara Helmuth. She had turned partly aside, her head was down in her two hands, and her shoulders were shaking softly as she stood. Overcome by the horror of the place, she had given way at last, and the sight was too much for Hammer.
As if by magic he felt himself once more, with all his old quickness of thought and vigour of action returned to him. Solomon had failed them and they were alone, and the thought brought responsibility back to him.
Quietly slipping his hands free of the loosened cords, he strode over to the girl's side, none hindering him, and in the face of the jungle horror about them he put an arm about her shoulders, drawing her head to his breast.
"Quiet, Sara," and he patted her back in a clumsy effort to soothe her. "It's all right, girl—don't cry. We'll get out of this place and forget about it——"
For several weeks now Sara Helmuth had forced herself into the position of a man among men, playing a lone hand in the dark, and while friendship had come to her in the guise of Solomon and Hammer, her woman's soul had craved sympathy as a child craves its mother's arms.