The Pendulum of the Skull by J Page 2

  pulse. Like the spark that closes contact

  on his great chest, bending his bull neck until between two charged poles, something

  his beard brushed her cheek.

  bridged between them, something rose in their

  He set her down with a great guffaw,

  eyes and ran, each to each, along that bridge.

  releasing her almost as violently as he must

  For a moment everything else was forgotten

  have clutched her and, still laughing, strode

  except each other. The surf boomed and the

  off among the guavas toward the buildings.

  sunset deepened, the world rolled on, but they Bud came leaping over the lava rocks, his fists stood still until there came the sound of the

  clenched, and his gray eyes blazing.

  man’s voice shouting, “Purdy, Oh Purdy!

  He had glimpsed scarlet streaks on the

  Where are you, you blighter!”

  man’s nose and the barer parts of his cheeks as

  “I’ve got to go back to my uncle,” said

  his big bulk wheeled and disappeared. The girl the girl. “He’s dying. There’s nothing much I

  in blue reeled, steadied herself, rubbed can do for him, but——”

  violently at one cheek, and then her eyes, wild

  “I heard what that blackguard said to

  with resentment and fear, dilated suddenly at

  you,” said Bud. “My name’s Barrett—Cyrus

  sight of Bud. He was catapulting toward her

  Barrett—Bud Barrett. I deserted from the

  with his scorched face, unshaven, hatless, his whaler that put in this morning for water

  slop-chest clothing grimed and torn, but, lower down the beach.”

  nevertheless, to her woman’s instinct a knight

  “You don’t talk like a sailor?” There

  charging to her rescue, or her avenging.

  was no real criticism in the words, rather

  She shook her head at him, and a mass

  compliment.

  of redgold hair, already disarranged, came

  “I’m not much of one,” said Bud. “But

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  you don’t have to go with that skunk, whether

  had scored.

  he’s got a gun or not. So don’t let that worry

  “Who’s yore pickup, Thelma?” he

  you.”

  asked. His dark eyes flashed in swift anger as She gave him a look that was reward

  he advanced threateningly toward Bud, plainly

  in advance. But she shook her head.

  resenting the intrusion. “Where did you come

  “You’ll only get into trouble,” she from?” he demanded. Bud held his ground, said. “Watterson’s killed more than one man,

  looking at him equably, though, what with the

  they say. There are the others with him. need of water, and his leg weariness, his And—I couldn’t stay here alone with you.”

  judgment quailed a little at the size and brawn

  “I don’t see why not. What’s of the man.

  convention got to do with a deal like this? I’m

  “Off the whaler Flying Cloud, ” he

  square—you know that.”

  He had no doubt

  answered.

  of her conviction along that line, but he saw in

  “She’s out to sea. Flew the coop, did

  the same instant that she was right. He had to you? Fo’c’sle too tough for you? Rather shirk

  protect her that way, too.

  than work? Thought you’d hit the beach an’

  “He isn’t going to shoot me in cold

  bum yore livin? Well, you’ve come to the

  blood,” he said, “though he might have if I’d

  wrong port, sonny. We don’t like sandlice

  interfered just now. I’m sorry I didn’t get here round here. Git!”

  soon enough to do that. A man that would

  “You own this place?” asked Bud. He

  bully a girl in the fix you’re in is yellow,

  knew he was inviting a row and, aside from

  anyway. You go on to the house, and I’ll

  the gun, knew the chances were that he was

  happen along just as I would have anyhow.

  going to get the worst of it, but the girl’s

  What’s the matter with your uncle?”

  presence, the still keen memory of the man’s

  “Heart trouble, island fever and trade

  attack on her, did more than merely bolster

  gin,” she said, her voice suddenly hard and

  him; they charged him with challenge,

  bitter. “A combination of the three.”

  regardless of consequence. Neither was he

  Bud saw, in her young, brave face,

  going to be entirely helpless. He kept his eye contempt, worry, weariness, the lack of sleep, on the holster, he set his stance for a spring.

  the long trial of nursing.

  He knew the girl was standing with one hand

  “I’ve got to go,” she said shortly. “You

  at her heart, fearful for him, and he knew it

  must be all tired out—hungry and thirsty. It’s was going to come out all right.

  good of you to want to help me.”

  Here was more magic—the escape

  “I’m going to. Have you got a gun up

  from the watering party, the first glamor of the at the house?”

  bush, the wild fury of the storm, the swinging She nodded, though she seemed to be

  skull and the trapped trail, the girl, and now listening to something else. A forefinger shot this encounter.

  up to her lips, her pupils enlarged again until Swift as the impression of a dream all

  her eyes seemed black. She looked like a

  this projected itself upon the screen of Bud

  startled deer, Bud thought, remembering Barrett’s brain before the man answered.

  Californian days.

  “I own half of it, if that’s anything to

  The bearded man had stepped silently

  you.”

  as a cat out of the guavas, and stood looking at

  “And the other half is mine,” said the

  them with a mirthless laugh. It showed his

  girl.

  white teeth amid his uncombed whiskers,

  The man’s face twitched with rage.

  puckering close the scratches the girl’s nails

  “Then you go ’tend to it,” he snarled at

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  7

  her. “You, you scupper pup, git to hell out of down.

  here.”

  The triumphant face was again

  With the roar of a brute, his eyes convulsed, this time in sudden agony. It felt to glaring in his convulsed face, the big man

  Watterson as if a redhot wire had been

  leaped with dynamic force and swiftness. One

  inserted below his left biceps, midway of the

  hand was out to clutch at Bud’s shoulder, to

  great muscle, burning, searing, paralyzing.

  spin him about while he kicked him down the

  Strength went out of his left arm, the

  gully for the pithless scarecrow he looked; the scarecrow sailor tore loose, leaped in. One

  other was clubbed for a blow, ignoring his

  blow, cushioned by his beard, but jarring him, gun, a man proud of his bull strength, eager to crashed hard and close to the point of

  demonstrate it.

  Watterson’s jaw, the other landed full on his

  It was a costly mistake in judgment.

  mouth as he floundered forward, beside

  He had expected the scarecrow to turn and

  himself with rage, his left arm tempo
rarily

  run; expected nothing else from a runaway

  impotent, numbed.

  sailor. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred he

  Bud slipped the rush, panting, his wind

  would have been right. As it was, Bud stooped

  broken, his heart pounding, but game and

  a little, his two hands shot out, and clamped

  cool. The fruit he had eaten since his meager

  on the other’s right wrist, twisting and breakfast on the Flying Cloud had given him wrenching the arm until Watterson yelled with

  nothing beyond filling space in his clamoring

  the pain of it, swinging a flailing blow that

  stomach. Sun and the struggle over the beach

  Bud neatly ducked. Then, while he let go the

  had taken full toll. He was in the condition of tortured arm with his left hand for a moment,

  a tired athlete who attempts to wrest honors

  he deftly plucked the gun from the holster, as from a fresh boxer, after a long program of

  the bearded man wrenched free and rushed

  grueling contests. His two tricks of jujitsu had him, flinging about him hairy arms that were

  served him well once, but the nerve paralysis

  hard as timber and flexible as rubber.

  would not last much longer, Watterson would

  The gun went flying, and Bud spared a

  be on his guard against repetition. Bud had

  glance over his shoulder as he fought to free

  weight against him, power, the sustained vigor himself from the grip.

  of a well-fed man. His tongue stuck to the

  “Get it, get that gun!” he gasped, and

  inside of his mouth—the thirst that had

  saw the girl retrieve it, then step back with the gradually augmented all through the afternoon

  weapon in her hand, her young face fierce

  now attacked him viciously, making him a

  with the look of a tigress, cruel and watchful.

  little dizzy, robbing him of all elasticity.

  All functioning ceased in him save that

  The sun was glaring straight up the

  of preservation. He was on the defensive, his

  ravine, close now to the rim of the sea, turning ribs bowing out of shape, his breath being

  the gray rocks red as blood. Bud sidestepped,

  slowly crushed out of him, his arms pinioned,

  working round to get it at his back. Watterson while the bearded face close to his was followed him, rubbing his tingling left arm gloating, vindictive.

  into which strength was slowly returning,

  Bud’s right hand worked up the other’s

  murderous rage flaming in his eyes. Bud

  left by jerks, feeling the great muscles pliant found himself backed against a boulder just as in their sheaves, constricting him; feeling for the girl gave a cry of warning, and his

  something else, finding the place, fingers opponent, with a grunt of content, started a digging fiercely, frantically, in between left swing that came down on Bud’s guard like tendon and nerve, touching a vein, clamping

  a sledgehammer. He used the slowly

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  revitalizing limb as a club, while he drove

  schooner. Get outside the reef as soon as the

  hard to the body with his right. It shook Bud

  tide will let you. Go on, down the gully to the hard, and it hurt badly. The vitality seemed

  beach. Your boat’s waiting for you.”

  suddenly sapped out of him, and he sagged

  Bud freed his ankle from the

  down on his heels, covering, with Watterson

  treacherous loop, and got up painfully. His

  stepping back a little, grinning, set to send in foot was hurt and wrenched, but it was still

  the finishing blows. Under one wrist Bud serviceable. Watterson’s scowling glimpsed the face of the girl, anxious, astonishment changed to a leer.

  alarmed. This brute, if he downed Bud, would

  “That’s how the land lies, is it? That’s

  kick most of the life out of him, would have

  why you deserted? I reckon yore ship called

  the girl at his mercy.

  here before, mister. Want to leave the two of

  Bud saw the right fist start and, with

  you together.”

  his own anger and hatred surging back,

  Bud hobbled forward, but the girl was

  bringing fresh energy on its flood, he ahead of him. Her eyes flared, her jaw was crouched suddenly and lashed out while hard set, and there was no mistaking the Watterson’s blow sickled the empty air above

  determination that spoke in her words, her

  him, and its launcher stumbled forward. Bud

  pose, as she stood with the big Colt pressed

  was inside the guard, and the smash he sank in close against her hip, slanting upward,

  the other’s plexus—with the second higher

  covering Watterson.

  and under the heart—were vicious and hard

  “Wattle, if you say another word I’ll

  enough to brake the fighting impetus of the

  shoot the tongue out of your mouth. You’ve

  bearded man. They left him winded, gasping

  shown yourself what I’ve always thought you

  while Bud slid away from the rock that had

  were—rotten. I’m through with you.”

  trapped him, whipped in a short, lifting

  Watterson nodded, a bit grimly, yet

  uppercut to the hairy, deceiving jaw and, with the air of a winner for all his ignominious trying for a left hook to the pit of the stomach retreat. The girl watched him down the slope,

  once more, felt his foot slip under a looping

  standing poised on a boulder where she could

  vine. It twisted into a crevice, and gave away command the gully and Watterson’s descent

  under him as he fell sprawling, and saw to the beach.

  Watterson, still gasping horribly, his great

  When Watterson had turned toward his

  chest pumping spasmodically as he strove for

  boat, Bud helped her down, and noticed that

  full lungs, stooping. His face was bestial with her firm chin quivered. She caught up a

  triumphal ferocity as he lifted a booted foot to trembly lip with her little white teeth. “He’ll kick Bud in the head, the ribs, anywhere that

  get all the best of it, at that,” she said. “He’s would maim and hurt, leave him crippled and

  got the copra and the schooner, and that’s

  senseless.

  really mine. I’ll tell you all about it presently,”

  Bud could not help himself, the she went on wearily. “You need food, and treacherous vine was still snared about his

  uncle——”

  ankle, and he was on all fours.

  A shrill wailing cry started in the

  There was the bark of a shot, the whine

  direction of the buildings, repeated,

  of a bullet overhead, sudden stupid surprise on augmented by a score of alien throats.

  Watterson’s face. The girl’s voice sounded

  “He’s dead,” she said in a low voice.

  clear as crystal, hard as metal.

  “The boys have found it out. I left Tiri, the

  “I’ll hit next time, Watty. You know I

  foreman, with him.”

  can. Now, get out of here. Get off to the

  The boys, Bud supposed, were the

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  9

  plantation hands. The mournful sounds were

  care of herself after all—unless Watterson had weird in the dusk that was rapidly sifting

  caught her unawares. It was up to him to solve down as they walke
d toward the house. He

  the situation. As night swiftly fell, he squared remembered what Watterson had said about

  his shoulders while he limped along, shaking

  the bushmen learning swiftly of the death, and off the depression of the darkness, the dead

  that she was alone. She was not quite alone

  man waiting for them in the house, the black

  now, but he had been forced upon her. Unless

  boys working themselves into an ecstasy of

  he went into the bush they would have to defy

  mock grief that might swiftly change to

  the conventions until the next ship called. His something far more fiendish, if they sensed

  presence would embarrass her. And he could

  that the white girl was unprotected.

  not leave her with her black boys, savages

  So far the presence of the schooner

  themselves, and liable to reversion to the restrained them. When that left it was up to wildest type. He had attempted to rescue her

  Bud, inexperienced in such conditions but

  from Watterson’s frying-pan, only to resolved to find some solution.

  compromise her, or leave her exposed to perils The stars were coming out, the wailing

  not to be thought of.

  hands, naked save for loin cloths, their eyes

  Plain before him he could see the rolling and their heads flung back like howling pendulum of the skull.

  dogs, had lit palm torches, where they

  Suddenly the wailing was punctuated

  squatted outside the trader’s bungalow. They

  with something that sounded like distant gaped at the sight of Bud. The girl dismissed thunder from the heights that still held a them tersely, snapping commands at them in flaring light on their fantastic crags. It was too Beach English, and they slunk off to their

  regular for that. It was the sound of drums—