CHAPTER III

_A Night of Horror_

The meal consisted of various fruits, some meat which Bentley could

not identify, and wild honey which was delicious. The bread tasted

queer but was distinctly edible. The castaways ate ravenously, but

even as he ate Bentley noticed that Ellen's face was chalky pale, and

that in spite of a distinct effort of will she simply had to look at

intervals toward the great beast in the cage.

Caleb Barter sat with his back to the animal. Bentley sat at the left

of the old scientist, Ellen Estabrook at his right. The great beast

was quiet now, but he squatted within his prison and his red-rimmed

eyes swerved from one person to the other in the room with a peculiar

intentness.

"I'd swear that beast can almost read our thoughts!" ejaculated

Bentley at last, after he had somewhat sated his appetite.

Barter smiled with those too-red lips of his.

"He can--almost. You'd be surprised to know how nearly human the great

apes are, and how nearly human this particular one is. Ah!"

"What do you mean, this particular one?" asked Bentley curiously. "He

doesn't look any different to me from the others I've seen except that

he is far and away the largest."

"I don't see why you should be so curious," said Barter testily. "It's

none of your business you know--yet."

"What do you mean?" demanded Bentley, nettled by Barter's tone.

"Lee, hush," said Ellen. "Professor Barter is not on trial for any

crime."

Bentley looked at her in hurt surprise, inclined to be angry with her

for the tone she was taking, but he saw such a look of appeal in her

eyes that he choked back the words that rushed to his lips for

utterance. He was decidedly on edge, more, he felt, than he should

have been despite what they had gone through. When their eyes met he

saw her glance quickly toward the ape, and noted a frown of worry

between her brows.

* * * * *

Bentley glanced at the ape. The brute now was staring at the girl in a

way that made Bentley's flesh crawl. It was preposterous of course,

but he had the feeling, something which seemed to flow out of that

mighty cage like some evil emanation from a dank tarn, that the ape

knew the girl's sex--and that he desired her! It was horrible in the

extreme to contemplate, yet Bentley knew when he glanced swiftly at

the girl that she had sensed the same thing and was fighting to keep

the natural horror she felt at such a ghastly thought from being

noticeable. It was absurd. The ape was a prisoner. But....

"Professor Barter," said Bentley, "you're accustomed to being with

this brute, but it isn't so nice for us, especially for Miss

Estabrook."

Barter now frowned angrily.

"My dear Bentley," he said with that odd testiness which he had

assumed toward Bentley before, "I refuse to have any interference with

my experiment. This is part of it."

"You mean--" began Bentley.

"I mean that I'm training that ape--I call him Manape--to behave like

human beings. How better can he learn than by watching our behavior?"

"Just the same," said Bentley, "I don't like it."

"It's all right, Lee," said Ellen quickly. "I don't mind."

But Bentley knew that it wasn't all right, and that she did mind,

terribly.

* * * * *

Barter finished eating. Bentley had noticed that despite the long

years he had been a virtual hermit, Barter ate as fastidiously as he

probably had done when he had lived among his own kind. He pushed back

his chair with a swift movement.

Instantly the roaring of Manape rang through the room. The great brute

rose to his full height and grasped the bars of his cage, shaking them

with savage fury. He glared at his master and bestial rage glittered

from his red-rimmed eyes. He was a horrible sight. Ellen Estabrook,

with no apology, stepped around the table and crouched wide-eyed in

the arm of Lee Bentley.

"Lee," she said, "I'm terribly afraid. I almost wish we had trusted

ourselves in the jungle."

"I'll look out for you," he whispered, as Barter turned his attention

to the great ape.

But Bentley was watching the animal. So was Barter. The eyes of the

scientist were shining like coals of fire. For the moment he appeared

to have forgotten his guests.

"It is a success!" he cried. "As far as it goes, I mean!"

What did Barter mean? Seeking some answer to the enigma, Bentley

studied the ape anew. Now he was positive of another thing: Manape was

scarcely concerned with Barter, whom he appeared to hate with an

utterly satanic hatred. His beady eyes were staring at Bentley

instead!

"The brute is jealous of me!" thought Bentley. "Good God, what does it

mean, anyway?"

Barter turned back to them and all at once became the genial host.

"Shall we return to the other room?" he asked politely.

* * * * *

It was a relief to the castaways to put that awful room behind them.

Barter closed and barred the door with deliberate slowness.

Why had this old man shut himself away from civilization like this?

How long had he held this great ape in captivity? What was the purpose

of it? What experiment was he performing? What part of it had the

castaways been witnessing that they had not recognized? Bentley,

recalling the distinct impression that the ape had stared at Ellen

almost with the eyes of a lustful man, and had even appeared to be

jealous of him because the girl had gone into his arms--Bentley felt a

shiver of revulsion course through him as it struck him now how

_human_ the regard and the jealousy of the creature had been!

He felt like clutching at the girl and racing with her into the

hazards of the jungle. But he remembered the anthropoids out there,

and Barter's peculiar domination of the brutes.

Barter was now watching the two with interest, studying them in turn

speculatively, unmindful of the impertinence of his studious regard

and silence.

"I have it!" he said. "Will you two be good enough to excuse me? You

will need rest, I am sure. I am going away for a little time, but I

shall return shortly after dark. Make yourselves at home. But

remember--don't enter that room!"

"You need not worry," said Bentley grimly. "I sincerely hope we take

our next meal in some other room."

Barter laughed and passed out of the door without a backward glance.

From the jungle immediately afterward came the drumming of the great

apes, and now and again the laughter of Barter--high-pitched at first,

but dying away as Barter apparently moved off into the jungle.

* * * * *

"Ellen," said Bentley quickly, "I don't know what's going on here, but

I'm sure it's something sinister and awful. Let's take a look at our

rooms. If there isn't a door between them which can be left open,

then you'll have to spend the night in my room while I remain awake on

guard."

"I was thinking of the same thing, Lee," she whispered. "This place

gives me the horrors. Barter's association with the apes is a terrible

thing."

Hand in hand they stepped to the door Barter had designated as that of

Ellen Estabrook's. Bentley opened it cautiously, heaving a sigh of

relief to find it empty. He scarcely knew what he had expected. There

was a connecting door between the two rooms, open, and they peered

into the chamber Bentley was to occupy.

Back they came to her room, to stand before a window which gave onto a

shadowed little clearing in the rear of the cabin.

"Look!" whispered Ellen.

There was a single mound of earth, with a white cross set over it, on

which was the single word: Mangor.

It might have been a word in some native dialect. It might have been

some native's name. It might have been anything, but, whatever it was,

it added to the sinister atmosphere which seemed to hang like an evil

mist over the home of Caleb Barter.

"That settles it, Ellen," he said. "You'll spend the night in my

room."

Ellen retired in Bentley's room, closing the door which led to the

adjoining room, and Bentley walked back and forth in the reception

room, waiting for Barter to return. When darkness fell he lighted the

lamps he had previously located. Their odor caused him to guess that

the fuel they used was some sort of animal fat. In the strange glow

from the lamps, his shadow on the walls, as he walked to and fro, was

grotesque, terrible--and at times a grim reminder of the great apes.

It caused him to consider how, after all, human beings were akin to

gorillas and chimpanzees. Somehow, now, it was a horrible thought.

* * * * *

The night wore on and Bentley's stride became faster. Now and again he

peered into the girl's room. She was sleeping the sleep of utter

exhaustion and he did not waken her. Bentley felt it was near midnight

when Barter returned, his return heralded by a strange commotion in

the clearing, and the frightful drumming of the great apes--or at

least _one_ great ape. Bentley shuddered as the animal behind the

locked door answered the drumming challenge with a drumming thunder of

his own.

Barter came in, and Bentley accosted him at once.

"See here, Barter," he began. "I don't like it here. There's something

strange going on in this clearing. Miss Estabrook and I wish to leave

immediately in the morning! And that grave behind the cabin, who or

what is it?"

Barter studied the almost trembling Bentley for all of a minute.

"That grave?" he said at last, with silken softness. "It's the grave

of a jungle savage. He died in the interest of science. As for you,

you'll leave here when I bid you, and not before, understand? I've a

guardian outside that would tear both of you limb from limb."

But Bentley caught and held fast to certain words the scientist had

spoken.

"The savage died in the interest of science?" he said. "What do you

mean?"

Barter smiled his red-lipped smile.

"I took the savage and Manape, who wasn't called Manape then, and

administered an anesthetic of my own invention. You've heard that I

was a master of trephining? No matter if you haven't heard, the whole

world will know soon! While the native and the ape were under

anesthesia I transferred their brains. I put the black man's brain in

the skull pan of the ape, and the ape's brain in that of the savage.

The ape lived--and he is Manape. The savage, with the ape's brain,

died, and I buried him in that grave you asked about!"

* * * * *

With a cry of horror Bentley turned and fled from Barter as though the

man had been His Satanic Majesty himself. He entered the room with

Ellen and barred the door behind him. He likewise barred the door

which led to that other room. Now in total darkness it was all he

could do from clambering on the bed where Ellen slept, and begging her

to touch him--anything--if only to prove to him that there still were

sane creatures left in a mad world.

Outside Barter laughed.

"Oh, Bentley," he called after a long interval of silence, "do you

like the odor of violets? Goodnight, and pleasant dreams!"

What had Barter meant?

Again assuring himself that the connecting door could not be opened if

anything or anybody tried to enter that way, Bentley flung himself

down before the door which gave on the reception room. He had no

intention of sleeping. But in spite of himself he dozed off, though he

fought against sleep with all his will.

Strange, but as he gradually slipped away into unconsciousness he was

cognizant of the odor of violets--like invisible tentacles which

reached through the very door and wrapped themselves gently about him.

His last conscious thought was of Manape, the ape with the brain of a

jungle savage. But in spite of the vague feeling of horror he could

not fight off the desire for sleep.