"Good!" came the rumbling response, with a gesture to one of the Masai. The latter cut Hammer's bonds, and the American strode to the side of Sara, lifting her in his arms. Then, with firm step but ghastly face, for the feeling of revulsion was almost too strong to be endured, he walked to the brink of the pit, and waited.
"Hurry, for God's sake!" he gasped.
The rope was put around him, under his shoulders; he did not feel how it cut into him as his weight came upon it. He knew only that terrible darkness was rising up at him, that the nightmare had begun, that slimy mossy stones were all about him.
He strove for a footing with his hanging feet, but to no avail. The walls were smooth, fissureless; he could not look down because of the body of the girl who lay in his arms. And it was as well that he could not, for an instant later his foot struck something soft.
He almost screamed at the touch, having forgotten Jenson for a moment; then he remembered. What next happened he could not tell; he felt himself swinging on the rope, and a great fear surged into him that the Masai had dropped him.
Then he knew that Jenson was beating against his legs, trying to drive him off with his beast-like, wordless whimpers.
He felt that he was kicking out in desperation, and his foot landed once; then from below came a single strangled cry, followed by a soft thud, and an instant later he was afoot on the rock ledge.
How long he stood there holding Sara Helmuth he never knew, for he was battling with all his will-power to get control of the awful horror that was over him. The snake-fear had gripped him, and the very rock at his back seemed to be a living thing that was pressing him forward, trying to fling him to the things below. This must have been the rope loosening from him, however, for presently he had conquered himself and the rope was gone from about him.
For a little space he did not realize that he was in any great danger. He was a good ten feet above the things that crawled down there and as much below the surface; he thought of Jenson, but spared no pity on the man; and the remembrance of his own words regarding the snake-pit and Jenson even brought the faintest flicker of a smile to his tense lips. Yet in his bitterest moments he could not have wished the man such agony as was now his own.
He listened for some sound from above, but none came. Had Krausz departed to cure his own hurts or was he waiting for some word from his victims? Hammer compressed his lips tighter; at least, the Saxon would not have the satisfaction of hearing him whimper, he thought. He was thankful that the girl showed no signs of wakening from her swoon.