What followed was, if possible, more surprising. The contortions ceased as suddenly as they had begun, and the animal lay flaccid and inert, a flood of blackness, like liquid pitch, oozing out between its jaws. As this went on, the bulk of the enormity shrunk rapidly, and the poisonous darkness of its coloring faded to a pallid, brownish hue, like a crushed tarantula. It shriveled, diminished, and disintegrated; and in a few moments all that remained of it was a heap of brittle fragments dwindling into formlessness. The lake flowed back over its bed and resumed its limpid serenity; the trees stretched their boughs over the turf, and the birds twittered and sang their tranquil music. It was difficult to believe that the late terrific uproar had been more than an evil dream.
Jim recovered his crutch, and then became aware of a personage standing a few rods away on the right, leaning upon a spear, and thoughtfully contemplating the scene of the late cataclysm. He was stately, strong, and clean-limbed, and in the prime of his youth. There was such a brightness in his aspect that it seemed to Jim that he cast a radiance around him. He recognized him at once as Solarion, who had shown his prowess in the battle with the Jovians. He hobbled toward him with an appreciative grin.
“You is sure Johnnie-on-de-Spot, mister, an’ you fetches de goods!” he exclaimed earnestly. “Dat big critter t’ought he had us locoed; an’ along you comes, quietlike, and pastes him one in de eye, an’ where is he?”
“You did the hardest part of the work yourself, Jim,” replied the other, smiling. “A stout heart is the best help in any battle. But I happened to have a dart in my hand, and I couldn’t resist letting it fly. What are you doing here—and where is Jack?”
Jim gave a terse account of their recent adventures. “So de boss is jugged wid de skirt inside dat mountain,” he concluded; “an’ me, I’s waitin’ till dey comes out to take a han’ in de game. I ain’t got no use for de yaller-haired kid; all de same, dis strangle-hold she’s got on de boss is mebbe a good t’ing. He ain’t got no prudence; an’ her keepin’ him in dere keeps him out o’ trouble, wedder or not she means it. He’s al’ays set for a scrap, my boss is; ef he’d been here, he’d ’a’ gone fer dat beast, sure, and got hurted. Now he’s huntin’ Torpy, ter git Miss Mir’am away from him; but what I wants is dis—an’ mebbe you kin give me a lift! While he’s safe in de mountain, you puts me over on de red moon, ef dat’s where she is; an’ I figgers I’d come near getting’ her free. But ef I slips up, an’ Torpy gits me—all right! De boss comes right along an’ makes his spiel; an’ at a straight show-down he kin knock Torpy over de ropes. But Torpy, he has funny stunts ter burn, an’ he might git a fake decision ef de boss ain’t put wise fust. An’ den, I arsks yer, where ’d Miss Mir’am git off?”
“Your idea is, then,” said Solarion, “to take the risk of getting killed first, in order that Jack, profiting by your experience, may have a better chance of rescuing Miriam? But why should you run your head into danger that brings you no reward, even if you win?”
Jim bent upon his interlocutor a serious and reproving glance.
”Say mister, youse ain’t playin’ up ter yer form! Lis’n here! My boss is some man, ain’t he? I guess yes! An’ he’s mushy on Miss Mir’am, an’ she on him; an’ dey’s goin’ ter do de orange-blossom an’ rice act fust t’ing dey hits N’York. On de udder han’, what am I good fer? Do I know anyt’ing? Am I a collidge guy, an’ play full-back on de team? Is dere any skirt campin’ on my trail? G’wan! I’m tellin’ yer dis worl’ is goin’ ahead right smart widout me! So what I says is, keep de boss here till me an’ Torpy has it out togedder; an’ while he’s busy lammin’ me fer keeps, snake Miss Mir’am out o’ dere and han’ her over to de boss. Dat’s all! Dat’s me! Dat’s right, ain’t it? Are yer on?”
Thus Jim spoke, with snapping eyes and graphic gestures; and as Solarion listened he became brighter and brighter, until Jim’s small person cast a long shadow behind him.
“Your plan is good,” he said, “and I’d rather be in your shoes than in Torpeon’s. We get what we are willing to pay for. May I have a look at that crutch of yours?”