The Horror Stories of Robert E. Howard by Robert E. Howard Page A

speaks truth,” he said, “but it accomplishes you nothing. Ho!”
    He shouted as he leaped for Dom Vincente. Steel flashed in the moonlight and the Spaniard’s sword was through Carlos ere he could move.
    And the shadows rose about us. Then it was back to back, sword and dagger, three men against a hundred. Spears flashed, and a fiendish yell went up from savage throats. I spitted three natives in as many thrusts and then went down from a stunning swing from a war-club, and an instant later Dom Vincente fell upon me, with a spear in one arm and another through the leg. Don Florenzo was standing above us, sword leaping like a living thing, when a charge of the arquebusiers swept the river bank clear and we were borne into the castle.
    The black hordes came with a rush, spears flashing like a wave of steel, a thunderous roar of savagery going up to the skies.

    Time and again they swept up the slopes, bounding the moat, until they were swarming over the palisades. And time and again the fire of the hundred-odd defenders hurled them back.
    They had set fire to the plundered warehouses, and their light vied with the light of the moon. Just across the river there was a larger storehouse, and about this hordes of the natives gathered, tearing it apart for plunder.
    “Would that they would drop torch upon it,” said Dom Vincente, “for naught is stored therein save some thousand pounds of gunpowder. I dared not store the treacherous stuff this side the river. All the tribes of the river and coast have gathered for our slaughter and all my ships are upon the seas.
    “We may hold out awhile, but eventually they will swarm the palisade and put us to the slaughter.”
    I hastened to the dungeon wherein de Montour sat. Outside the door I called to him and he bade me enter in voice which told me the fiend had left him for an instant.
    “The blacks have risen,” I told him.
    “I guessed as much. How goes the battle?”
    I gave him the details of the betrayal and the fight, and mentioned the powder-house across the river. He sprang to his feet.
    “Now by my hag-ridden soul!” he exclaimed; “I will fling the dice once more with hell! Swift, let me out of the castle! I will essay to swim the river and set off yon powder!”
    “It is insanity!” I exclaimed. “A thousand blacks lurk between the palisades and the river, and thrice that number beyond! The river itself swarms with crocodiles!”
    “I will attempt it!” he answered, a great light in his face. “If I can reach it, some thousand natives will lighten the siege; if I am slain, then my soul is free and mayhap will gain some forgiveness for that I gave my life to atone for my crimes.”
    Then, “Haste,” he exclaimed, “for the demon is returning! Already I feel his influence! Haste ye!”
    For the castle gates we sped, and as de Montour ran he gasped as a man in a terrific battle.
    At the gate he pitched headlong, then rose, to spring through it. Wild yells greeted him from the natives.
    The arquebusiers shouted curses at him and at me. Peering down from the top of the palisades I saw him turn from side to side uncertainly. A score of natives were rushing recklessly forward, spears raised.
    Then the eery wolf-yell rose to the skies, and de Montour bounded forward. Aghast, the natives paused, and before a man of them could move he was among them. Wild shrieks, not of rage, but of terror.
    In amazement the arquebusiers held their fire.
    Straight through the group of blacks de Montour charged, and when they broke and fled, three of them fled not.
    A dozen steps de Montour took in pursuit; then stopped stock-still. A moment he stood so, while spears flew about him, then turned and ran swiftly in the direction of the river.
    A few steps from the river another band of blacks barred his way. In the flaming light of the burning houses the scene was clearly illuminated. A thrown spear tore through de Montour’s shoulder. Without pausing in his stride he tore it forth and