“Come along,” whispered Leonard to his companion; “that hero Otter has drowned the sentry and won the bridge. Stop, pick up his clothes and arms.”
At that moment Otter himself arrived. “Quick,” he said, “come over, Baas, before they see that the bridge is down. Give me my clothes and the gun.”
“All right, here they are,” answered Leonard, and in another minute they were over the bridge and standing on the parapet of the slave-camp.
“Into the guard-house, Baas; the windlass is there, but no man.”
They entered: a lamp was burning in the place. Otter seized the handle of the windlass and began to wind. He was naked, and it was a wonderful sight to see the muscles starting out in knots on his huge but dwarfish frame as he strained at the weight of the bridge.
Presently it was up, and, leaning on the handle of the wheel, Otter chuckled aloud.
“Now we are safe for a time,” he said, “and I will dress myself. Let the Baas forgive me for appearing thus before him—I, who am so ugly.”
“Tell us the tale, Otter.”
“It is short, Baas,” the dwarf replied, as he put on his robe and turban. “When I left you I watched, I who can see in the dark, and in a little while I saw the guard come down the steps and sit by the edge of the water. He was sleepy, for he yawned and lit a roll of paper to smoke it. Presently it went out, and he had no more matches. He looked up to the house there, but was too lazy to fetch them; then I guessed that he was alone, for else he would have called to his companion for fire. Now he grew sleepier, and I said to myself, ‘Otter, Otter, how can you kill this man silently? You must not shoot, because of the noise; and if you throw a knife or a spear, you may miss, or wound him only.’ And my snake spoke in my heart and answered, ‘Otter, Otter, dive, seize his feet, and drag him down swiftly and stamp him into the mud, you who are half a fish and can swim as no other man can swim. Do it at once, Otter, before the light comes and men can see the drawbridge move.’
“Well, and so I did it, Baas. Wow! I trod him deep into the mire, I trampled him as an ox tramples corn upon a threshing-floor. Never will he come up again. After that I rose and ran into the guard-house, fearing lest there might be another whom I must silence also, for when I was a slave two always kept watch. But the place was empty, so I let the bridge down. Ah! I remembered how it worked. And that is the tale, Baas.”