# The Temple of the Ten/Chapter 9

pp. 155-157

### CHAPTER IX
#### THE CAPTIVES

SOME weeks after the conquering yet conquered caravan of Sheng Wu had turned its face toward Urga, a party of five Mongol horsemen came riding through the defile to the lake of singing fishes—the lake presided over by the mysterious Esrun.
These five had a companion, a captive, whose wrists were firmly bound behind his back. This captive had suffered a horrible fate. Over his body to the waist had been loosely bound a fresh hide, in which had been cut three holes; two, to permit the passage of his arms, the third, opposite his mouth, to permit his eating and drinking.
The sun had dried and shriveled this skin until it had become, as it were, an outer epidermis. Beneath it the unfortunate man was blind, deaf; insensible to any outward change. Sometimes a wretched victim has been known to be sewn into a fresh skin and left in the desert sun until the shrinking skin killed him. This captive, however, had not been granted so merciful a fate.
These six riders came in silence. They were filthy with all the dirt of unwashed Mongols, yet certain of them possessed gray or blue eyes, and on one the hair was decidedly tawny. They were members of the Darkan tribe which Sheng Wu had scattered afar. Obviously they were frightened of this place; they rode in fear, their eyes searching grass and lake and crags with swift glances. Yet they rode on toward the lake, not pausing until they drew rein at the shore.
There, as one man, they watched their horses. These sturdy Mongol ponies had no fear, but sniffed the water, strained eagerly toward it. The five riders glanced at one another, exchanged a quick nod of satisfaction and dismounted. The captive, who perceived nothing of what passed around him, remained in his saddle as his mount leaned down to the water. Nor did his captors pay him any regard.
Heedless of their beasts, likewise, the five Mongols seated themselves on the bank, produced dirty pipes of various kinds, and smoked. At length one of them spoke. He did not address his comrades. Instead, he looked out at the lake and spoke to the invisible Esrun.
“We have obeyed your orders, sublime ancestor!”
He checked himself abruptly, upon his brutish face an expression of intense astonishment, while he stared at the lake. After a moment he turned to his companions.
“Esrun commands us to make our report without speaking. Can any of you do this?”
One after another shook their heads. With some terror now mingled into the astonishment of his visage, the leader looked again at the lake.
“We do not know how to do this, Esrun,” he said.
There was something terrible in the simplicity of his utterance—in the confession of this man who could receive thoughts without sending them. Here was a child playing with vast forces of the intellect; a primitive barbarian who infringed upon secret things before which civilized science stood hesitant!
“Very well.” Suddenly his face cleared. He glanced at his companions, who nodded assent. They, too, had caught the message. “Esrun commands us to speak. I obey!”
“We have cleared the temple of the bodies of the barbarians who were destroyed by the sacred vapors. We have taken their weapons, such as remained. We have preserved the life of this white man who led them. According to your orders, we have brought him here unharmed. We await your orders.”
He remained silent, gazing at the lake. One would have said that the mysterious Esrun was now reduced to dire straits; the temple priests and novices having perished, telepathic communication was established with bestial creatures such as these, incapable of sending forth a thought!
At this instant, however, was afforded an instance of the remarkable powers of that terrible being who dwelt in a cavern of the lake. One of the five men rose to his feet, while the others darted at him glances of surprize.
“Very well,” he said. “I obey.”
He advanced to the group of horses, now cropping at the purplish-green grass, and unlashed the figure of the captive. Seizing the latter's arm, he drew the helpless man from the saddle and left him sitting in the grass. He then rejoined his companions.
After an instant the leader again turned to his four comrades.
“Esrun commands us to return home. You have heard?”
“We have heard,” was the mutter.
The five rose. They gave a last curious look at the grass, at the saffron beds, at the water and the gloomy crags which rose from it. Then they went to the horses. With grunts and savage exclamations they hurled themselves into their saddles, lashed the unwilling brutes fiercely and rode rapidly away, delighted to be gone. With them went the horse which the captive had ridden.
The captive himself remained sitting in the grass.
Before the five riders had gained the mouth of the long and tortuous defile which gave access to the outer world, they drew rein swiftly and bunched together. Leaving the defile and advancing to the lake had appeared a second group of horsemen—again five in number, a captive in the center of the group.
This captive, unlike the first, was not shrouded; not, at first sight, did he appear to be bound. Upon closer view, however, it proved that from each hand, from each foot, and from about his neck, ran a cord which connected him to one of the five Mongols around him. Thus he was more securely bound than with chains, for, with one simultaneous movement of their ponies, these five Mongols could disjoint his entire body.
This man was Day, the American. Naked to the waist, sun-blackened, bearded, his torso showed plain evidences of privation, suffering, torture. Yet from his haggard features, his eyes gleamed out boldly as ever; and his enormous frame, instead of being depleted and weakened by his experiences, appeared to be hardened into the consistency of iron.
These five Mongols saluted the five who had brought the first captive. They belonged to a different branch of the Darkan tribe, but they too were among the number of those who had exterminated Kilgore's band at one stroke. Gases from the subterranean rifts at the eastern side of the lake, confined in hide bags and loosened downwind, had wiped out the Sikhs to a man. Yet these barbarians of the white steppes were not the first to make use of such weapons.
The Mongols among whom Day rode did not pause to speak with their fellows, but pursued their course toward the lake. At sight of the other party their fears had vanished altogether. They stared about them curiously, discussed the half-dozen hobbled racing dromedaries who were grazing in the valley, became more at their ease. Once, when Day made an abrupt movement, the five made their horses suddenly jump away, his arms and legs extended horribly, his head jerked forward, Day uttered a groan. The five grinned and loosened the cords. He settled again in the saddle, motionless.
When the party approached the lake shore, Day eyed that silent hooded figure without other thought than that it might be Esrun, perhaps. He had long since given up Kilgore and his companions for dead—ever since that frightful night when he and Kilgore had discovered all their Sikhs dead, and when skin-clad figures had leaped on them out of the darkness. Ah, that had been a night to remember!
He had not seen Kilgore since that night.
Near the bound and hooded figure, which did not move as they approached, the five dismounted and spread out. They signed to Day and he painfully climbed out of the saddle, glaring about him. The five, grinning, drew the cords taut and sat down. Day, for want of anything better to do, followed suit.
Although the Mongols examined the hooded figure curiously, they perhaps knew what it was, for they paid it little heed after the first arrival. Their leader evidently was uncertain as to Esrun's abode, for he looked up into the sky and lake.
“We have obeyed your orders, sublime ancestor! Can you hear my voice?”
To any one who had heard the rather skilful communication established by the first party, this present speech would have appeared laughable. The Mongol, obviously, was none too certain of himself or Esrun; for he bellowed his words at the sky as if trusting they would pierce to heaven by sheer weight.
Yet they must have reached Esrun. After a moment the Mongol turned astonished eyes to his comrades. They nodded vigorously and one of them spoke.
“Esrun says to proceed! Then do so!”
“Good!” exclaimed the leader. “It is evident that I am not a khan for nothing, since I can make my words pierce to heaven. Esrun, do you hear? We have arrived. We have brought this unspeakable dog of a white barbarian, and we have not hurt him much. We are glad to be rid of him. If you had not ordered us to spare him, we would have killed him long ago, for he has killed three of our men since we captured him.”
At this the features of Day were overspread with a gloomy satisfaction.
“Shall we sacrifice him here to you, Esrun?” shouted the Mongol, and waited hopefully.
After a short interval his countenance expressed a brutish resignation and he gave Day a glance and a shrug. He looked at his companions.
“Is this right? Does Esrun say to leave him here and depart?”
The others nodded.
“To leave him unharmed,” added one with emphasis.
The leader sprang to his feet.
“Then cut the cords and go!” he cried, setting the example by severing the cord which bound Day's neck to his wrist.
For an instant Day sat staring at them in dazed stupefaction, unable to credit their actions. Four of the Mongols caught their horses, leaped into the saddle and went dashing away hastily. The fifth delayed a moment to catch the horse which had carried the American.
This moment of delay destroyed him.
Day came to his feet as if set on steel springs. The long severed cords trailed after him. He made one leap, and from the remaining Mongols burst a cry of terror; a second leap, and Day was at the man's saddle.
Two minutes later Day stood at the edge of the lake, holding between his huge hands the shaken and broken Mongol. He seized the man's knife, then cast it down—and with one hand hurled the wretched man headlong into the water.
“You're the one who held a hot iron to my back, eh?” he exclaimed. “Well, there's a present for you—water for iron, cold for heat! How do you like it, you devil?”
The Mongol did not reappear to make answer. After an instant Day turned away, his eye following the two horses who were running after the four Mongols. Then he observed the hooded and bound figure sitting in the grass.
For a little space Day studied that figure suspiciously, intently. Then he picked up the knife torn from the Mongol and approached the silent figure.
“By the Lord!” he cried suddenly. “White feet!”