They evidently expected the officiating wizard to announce in sporting
phraseology that the centipede had won the engagement with one swift
blow to the body, and when no news was forthcoming they were puzzled.
They confabbed in the centre of the clearing, and then hailed the table
in the strange tongue. Receiving no answer, they again debated with
much vigour, and, finally taking their courage in their hands, they came
forward with quickened steps.
We crept close to the edge, careful not to peer over while the pair were
climbing up. As far as I was aware we had no plans made for their
reception. Holman and I had no weapons, neither had the two dancers;
Kaipi had the ugly short-bladed knife with which he had dispatched
Soma's double.
The puffing of the climbing pair came to us. They came near and nearer.
A black arm came up over the edge of the table and clawed at the
moss-grown stone, but while Holman and I reached forward with the
intention of gripping the climber by the throat, Kaipi upset our plans
by driving the blade of the knife into the back of the huge paw that was
endeavouring to get a grip!
A tremendous howl of pain came from the owner of the hand, the pinioned
member was torn from beneath the blade, and as we pushed our heads over
the edge, the top climber fell backward, swept his companion from the
pillar, and the pair struck the coral rock beneath the table with a thud
that was suggestive of broken bones.
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