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The Lost City
Badger, Joseph E., Jr.
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Badger, Joseph E., Jr.
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bodyguard] body-guard
About the print version
The Lost City
Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 326 pages
Dana Estes & Company
Boston
1898
Prepared for the University of Virginia Library Electronic Text Center.
Some keywords in the header are a local Electronic Text Center scheme to aid in establishing analytical groupings.
Published: 1898
English
fiction; prose Young Readers LCSH L. J. Bridgman Illustrations 24-bit
color, 400 dpi
Revisions to the electronic version
September 1997 corrector Gregory Murray, Electronic Text Center
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THE LOST
CITY
BY
JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.
AUTHOR OF "SPUR
AND SADDLE," "AROUND
THE CAMPFIRE,"
ETC.
Illustrated by
L. J. BRIDGMAN
BOSTON
DANA
ESTES & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
1898
Copyright, 1898
BY
DANA ESTES & COMPANY Colonial Press:
Electrotyped and Printed
by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U. S. A.
-vii-
CONTENTS.
I. NATURE IN TRAVAIL. . . . . . . . . . . . 11
II. PROFESSOR FEATHERWIT TAKING NOTES . . . 23
III. RIDING THE TORNADO . . . . . . . . . . 35
IV. THE PROFESSOR'S LITTLE EXPERIMENT . . . 47
V. THE PROFESSOR'S UNKNOWN LAND . . . . . . 58
VI. A BRACE OF UNWELCOME VISITORS . . . . . 68
VII. THE PROFESSOR'S GREAT ANTICIPATIONS. . 79
VIII. A DUEL TO THE DEATH . . . . . . . . . 91
IX. GRAPPLING A QUEER FISH. . . . . . . . 104
X. RESCUED AND RESCUERS. . . . . . . . . . 114
XI. ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR THE PROFESSOR . . 125
XII. THE STORY OF A BROKEN LIFE. . . . . . 136
XIII. THE LOST CITY OF THE AZTECS. . . . . 145
XIV. A MARVELLOUS VISION . . . . . . . . . 154
XV. ASTOUNDING, YET TRUE . . . . . . . . . 165
XVI. CAN IT BE TRUE? . . . . . . . . . . . 174
XVII. AN ENIGMA FOR THE BROTHERS . . . . . 183
- XVIII. SOMETHING LIKE A WHITE ELEPHANT . . 192
-viii-
XIX. THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN GOD . . . . . 203
XX. THE PROFESSOR AND THE AZTEC. . . . . . 212
XXI. DISCUSSING WAYS AND MEANS . . . . . . 221
XXII. A DARING UNDERTAKING . . . . . . . . 230
XXIII. A FLIGHT UNDERGROUND. . . . . . . . 241
XXIV. THE SUN CHILDREN'S PERIL . . . . . . 250
XXV. WALDO GOES FISHING. . . . . . . . . . 259
XXVI. DOWN AMONG THE DEAD . . . . . . . . 268
XXVII. PENETRATING GRIM SECRETS. . . . . . 277
XXVIII. BROUGHT BEFORE THE GODS. . . . . . 286
XXIX. BENEATH THE SACRIFICIAL STONE. . . . 294
XXX. AGAINST OVERWHELMING ODDS . . . . . . 304
XXXI. DEFENDING THE SUN CHILDREN . . . . . 312
- XXXII. ADIEU TO THE LOST CITY. . . . . . . 320
ILLUSTRATIONS.
THE RESCUE . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece
IN THE HEART OF THE TORNADO . . . . . . . . . . 43
THE DUKE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
"`I TOOK THESE ALL FROM AN INDIAN'". . . . . . .133
FINDING THE LOST CITY. . . . . . . . . . . . . .161
"`MUCH OBLIGED -- ME, YOU, BROTHER'" . . . . . . .197
PRINCE HUA AND THE SUN CHILDREN. . . . . . . . .237
- "TLACOPA SHRANK AWAY FROM THE SPEAKING STATUE" .301
-11-
Chapter 1
THE LOST CITY.
CHAPTER
I.
NATURE IN TRAVAIL.
"I SAY, professor?"
"Very well, Waldo; proceed."
"Wonder if this isn't a portion of the glorious climate, broken loose from its native California, and drifting up this way on a lark?"
"If so, said lark must be roasted to a turn," declared the third (and last) member of that little party, drawing a curved forefinger across his forehead, then flirting aside sundry drops of moisture. "I can't recall such another muggy afternoon, and if we were only back in what the scientists term the cyclone belt -- "
"We would be all at sea," quickly interposed the professor, the fingers of one hand vigorously stirring his gray pompadour, while the other was lifted in a
-12-
deprecatory manner. "At sea, literally as well as
metaphorically, my dear Bruno; for, correctly speaking, the ocean
alone can give birth to the cyclone."
"Why can't you remember
anything, boy?" sternly cut in the roguish-eyed youngster, with
admonitory forefinger, coming to the front. "How many times have
I told you never to say blue when you mean green? Why don't you say
Kansas zephyr? Or windy-auger? Or twister? Or whirly-gust on a
corkscrew wiggle-waggle? Or -- well, almost any other old thing that
you can't think of at the right time? W-h-e-w! Who mentioned sitting
on a snowdrift, and sucking at an icicle? Hot? Well, now, if this
isn't a genuine old cyclone breeder, then I wouldn't ask a cent!"
Waldo Gillespie let his feet slip
from beneath him, sitting down with greater force than grace, back
supported against a gnarled juniper, loosening the clothes at his
neck while using his other hand to ply his crumpled hat as a fan.
Bruno laughed outright at this
characteristic anticlimax, while Professor Featherwit was obliged to
smile, even while compelled to correct.
"Tornado, please, nephew; not
cyclone."
"Well, uncle Phaeton, have it
your own way. Under either name, I fancy the thing-a-ma-jig would
-13-
kick up a high old bobbery with a man's political economy
should it chance to go bu'st right there! And, besides, when I was a
weenty little fellow I was taught never to call a man a fool or a
liar -- "
"Waldo!" sharply warned
his brother, turning again.
"So long as I knew myself to be
in the wrong," coolly finished the youngster, face grave, but
eyes twinkling, as they turned towards his mistaken mentor. "What
is it, my dear Bruno?"
"There is one thing neither
cyclone nor tornado could ever deprive you of, Kid, and that is -- "
"My beauty, wit, and good
sense, -- thanks, awfully! Nor you, my dear Bruno, although my inbred
politeness forbids my explaining just why."
There was a queer-sounding chuckle
as Professor Featherwit turned away, busying himself about that
rude-built shed and shanty which sheltered the pride of his brain and
the pet of his heart, while Bruno smiled indulgently as he took a few
steps away from those stunted trees in order to gain a fairer view of
the stormy heavens.
Far away towards the northeast,
rising above the distant hill, now showed an ugly-looking cloud-bank
which almost certainly portended a storm of no ordinary dimensions.
-14-
Had it first appeared in the
opposite quarter of the horizon, Bruno would have felt a stronger
interest in the clouds, knowing as he did that the miscalled
"cyclone" almost invariably finds birth in the southwest.
Then, too, nearly all the other symptoms were noticeable, -- the
close, "muggy" atmosphere; the deathlike stillness; the
lack of oxygen in the air, causing one to breathe more rapidly, yet
with far less satisfying results than usual.
Even as Bruno gazed, those heavy
cloud-banks changed, both in shape and in colour, taking on a
peculiar greenish lustre which only too accurately forebodes hail of
no ordinary force.
His cry to this effect brought the
professor forth from the shed-like shanty, while Waldo roused up
sufficiently to speak:
"To say nothing of yonder
formation way out over the salty drink, my worthy friends, who
intimated that a cyclone was born at sea?"
Professor Featherwit frowned a bit
as his keen little rat-like eyes turned towards that quarter of the
heavens; but the frown was not for Waldo, nor for his slightly
irreverent speech.
Where but a few minutes before there
had been only a few light clouds in sight, was now a heavy bank of
remarkable shape, its crest a straight line
-15-
as though marked by an enormous ruler, while the lower edge
was broken into sharp points and irregular sections, the whole
seeming to float upon a low sea of grayish copper.
"Well, well, that looks ugly,
decidedly ugly, I must confess," the wiry little professor
spoke, after that keen scrutiny.
"Really, now?" drawled
Waldo, who was nothing if not contrary on the surface. "Barring
a certain little topsy-turvyness which is something out of the
ordinary, I'd call that a charming bit of -- Great guns and little
cannon-balls!"
For just then there came a shrieking
blast of wind from out the northeast, bringing upon its wings a brief
shower of hail, intermingled with great drops of rain which pelted
all things with scarcely less force than did those frozen particles.
"Hurrah!" shrilly screamed
Waldo, as he dashed out into the storm, fairly revelling in the
sudden change. "Who says this isn't `'way up in G?' Who says --
out of the way, Bruno! Shut that trap-door in your face, so another
fellow may get at least a share of the good things coming straight
down from -- ow -- wow!"
Through the now driving rain came
flashing larger particles, and one of more than ordinary size
rebounded
-16-
from that curly pate, sending its owner hurriedly to shelter
beneath the scrubby trees, one hand ruefully rubbing the injured
part.
Faster fell the drops, both of rain
and of ice, clattering against the shanty and its adjoining shed with
an uproar audible even above the sullenly rolling peals of heavy
thunder.
The rain descended in perfect sheets
for a few minutes, while the hailstones fell thicker and faster,
growing in size as the storm raged, already beginning to lend those
red sands a pearly tinge with their dancing particles. Now and then
an aerial monster would fall, to draw a wondering cry from the
brothers, and on more than one occasion Waldo risked a cracked crown
by dashing forth from shelter to snatch up a remarkable specimen.
"Talk about your California
fruit! what's the matter with good old Washington Territory?" he
cried, tightly clenching one fist and holding a hailstone alongside
by way of comparison. "Look at that, will you? Isn't it a
beauty? See the different shaded rings of white and clear ice. See --
brother, it is as large as my fist!"
But for once Professor Phaeton
Featherwit was fairly deaf to the claims of this, in some respects
his favourite nephew, having scuttled back beneath the
-17-
shed, where he was busily stowing away sundry articles of
importance into a queerly shaped machine which those rough planks
fairly shielded from the driving storm.
Having performed this duty to his
own satisfaction, the professor came back to where the brothers were
standing, viewing with them such of the storm as could be itemised.
That was but little, thanks to the driving rain, which cut one's
vision short at but a few rods, while the deafening peals of thunder
prevented any connected conversation during those first few minutes.
"Good thing we've got a
shelter!" cried Waldo, involuntarily shrinking as the plank roof
was hammered by several mammoth stones of ice. "One of those
chunks of ice would crack a fellow's skull just as easy!"
Yet the next instant he was out in
the driving storm, eagerly snatching at a brace of those frozen
marvels, heedless of his own risk or of the warning shouts sent after
him by those cooler-brained comrades.
Thunder crashed in wildest unison
with almost blinding sheets of lightning, the rain and hail falling
thicker and heavier than ever for a few moments; but then, as
suddenly as it had come, the storm
-18-
passed on, leaving but a few scattered drops to fetch up the
rear.
"Isn't that pretty nearly what
people call a cloudburst, uncle Phaeton?" asked Bruno, curiously
watching that receding mass of what from their present standpoint
looked like vapour.
"Those wholly ignorant of
meteorological phenomena might so pronounce, perhaps, but never one
who has given the matter either thought or study," promptly
responded the professor, in no wise loth to give a free lecture, no
matter how brief it might be, perforce. "It is merely nature
seeking to restore a disturbed equilibrium; a current of colder air,
in search of a temporary vacuum, caused by -- "
"But isn't that just what
produces cy -- tornadoes, though?" interrupted Waldo, with scant
politeness.
"Precisely, my dear boy,"
blandly agreed their mentor, rubbing his hands briskly, while peering
through rain-dampened glasses, after that departing storm. "And
I have scarcely a doubt but that a tornado of no ordinary magnitude
will be the final outcome of this remarkable display. For, as the
record will amply prove, the most destructive windstorms are
invariably heralded by a fall of hail, heavy in proportion to the --
"
"Then I'd rather be excused,
thank you, sir!"
-19-
again interrupted the younger of the brothers, shrugging his
shoulders as he stepped forth from shelter to win a fairer view of
the space stretching away towards the south and the west. "I
always laughed at tales of hailstones large as hen's eggs, but now I
know better. If I was a hen, and had to match such a pattern as
these, I'd petition the legislature to change my name to that of
ostrich, -- I just would, now!"
Bruno proved to be a little more
amenable to the law of politeness, and to him Professor Featherwit
confined his sapient remarks for the time being, giving no slight
amount of valuable information anent these strange phenomena of
nature in travail.
He spoke of the different varieties
of land-storms, showing how a tornado varied from a hurricane or a
gale, then again brought to the front the vital difference between a
cyclone, as such, and the miscalled "twister," which has
wrought such dire destruction throughout a large portion of our own
land during more recent years.
While that little lecture would make
interesting reading for those who take an interest in such matters,
it need scarcely be reproduced in this connection, more particularly
as, just when the professor was getting fairly warmed up to his work,
an interruption
-20-
came in the shape of a sharp, eager shout from the lips of
Waldo Gillespie.
"Look -- look yonder! What a
funny looking cloud that is!"
A small clump of trees growing upon
a rising bit of ground interfered with the view of his brother and
uncle, for Waldo was pointing almost due southeast; yet his
excitement was so pronounced that both the professor and Bruno
hastened in that direction, stopping short as they caught a fair
sight of the object indicated.
A mighty mass of wildly disturbed
clouds, black and green and white and yellow all blending together
and constantly shifting positions, out of which was suddenly formed a
still more ominous shape.
A mass of lurid vapour shot
downwards, taking on the general semblance of a balloon, as it swayed
madly back and forth, an elongating trunk or tongue reaching still
nearer the earth, with fierce gyrations, as though seeking to fasten
upon some support.
Not one of that trio had ever before
gazed upon just such another creation, yet one and all recognised the
truth, -- this was a veritable tornado, just such as they had read in
awed wonder about, time and time again.
-21-
Neither one of the brothers
Gillespie were cravens, in any sense of the word, but now their
cheeks grew paler, and they seemed to shrink from yonder airy
monster, even while watching it grow into shape and awful power.
Professor Featherwit was no less
absorbed in this wondrous spectacle, but his was the interest of a
scientist, and his pulse beat as ordinary, his brain remaining as
clear and calm as ever.
"I hardly believe we have
anything to fear from this tornado, my lads," he said, taking
note of their uneasiness. "According to both rule and precedent,
yonder tornado will pass to the east of our present position, and we
will be as safe right here as though we were a thousand miles away."
"But, -- do they always move
towards the northeast, uncle Phaeton?"
"As a rule, yes; but there are
exceptions, of course. And unless this should prove to be one of
those rare ex -- er -- "
"Look!" cried Waldo, with
swift gesticulation. "It's coming this way, or I never -- isn't
it coming this way?"
"Unless this should prove to be
one of those rare exceptions, my dear boy, I can promise you that --
Upon my soul!" with an abrupt change of both
-22-
tone and manner, "I really believe it is coming
this way!"
"It is -- it is coming! Get a
move on, or we'll never know -- hunt a hole and pull it in after
you!" fairly screamed Waldo, turning in flight.
-23-
Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
PROFESSOR FEATHERWIT
TAKING NOTES.
"To the house!" cried the
professor, raising his voice to overcome yonder sullen roar, which
was now beginning to come their way. "Trust all to the
aeromotor, and 'twill be well with us!"
The wiry little man of science himself fell to work with an energy which told how serious he regarded the emergency, and, acting under his lead, the brothers manfully played their part.
Just as had been done many times before this day, a queer-looking machine was shoved out from the shed, gliding along the wooden ways prepared for that express purpose, while Professor Featherwit hurried aboard a few articles which past experience warned him might prove of service in the hours to come, then sharply cried to his nephews:
"Get aboard, lads! Time enough, yet none to spare in idle motions. See! The storm is drifting our way in deadly earnest!"
-24-
And so it seemed, in good sooth.
Now fairly at its dread work of
destruction, tearing up the rain dampened dirt and playing with
mighty boulders, tossing them here and there, as a giant of olden
tales might play with jackstones, snapping off sturdy trees and
whipping them to splinters even while hurling them as a farmer sows
his grain.
Just the one brief look at that
aerial monster, then both lads hung fast to the hand-rail of rope,
while the professor put that cunning machinery in motion, causing the
air-ship to rise from its ways with a sudden swooping movement, then
soaring upward and onward, in a fair curve, as graceful and steady as
a bird on wing.
All this took some little time, even
while the trio were working as men only can when dear life is at
stake; but the flying-machine was afloat and fairly off upon the most
marvellous journey mortals ever accomplished, and that ere yonder
death-balloon could cover half the distance between.
"Grand! Glorious! Magnificent!"
fairly exploded the professor, when he could risk a more
comprehensive look, right hand tightly gripping the polished lever
through which he controlled that admirable mechanism. "I have
longed for just such an opportunity, and now -- the camera, Bruno! We
must
-25-
never neglect to improve such a marvellous chance for -- get
out the camera, lad!"
"Get out of the road, rather!"
bluntly shouted Waldo, face unusually pale, as he stared at yonder
awful force in action. "Of course I'm not scared, or anything
like that, uncle Phaeton, but -- I want to rack out o' this just
about the quickest the law allows! Yes, I do, now!"
"Wonderful! Marvellous!
Incredible! That rara avis, an exception to all exceptions!"
declared the professor, more deeply stirred than either of his
nephews had ever seen him before. "A genuine tornado which has
no eastern drift; which heads as directly as possible towards the
northwest, and at the same time -- incredible!"
Only ears of his own caught these
sentences in their entirety, for now the storm was fairly bellowing
in its might, formed of a variety of sounds which baffles all
description, but which, in itself, was more than sufficient to chill
the blood of even a brave man. Yet, almost as though magnetised by
that frightful force, the professor was holding his air-ship steady,
loitering there in its direct path, rather than fleeing from what
surely would prove utter destruction to man and machine alike.
For a few moments Bruno withstood
the temptation,
-26-
but then leaned far enough to grasp both hand and tiller,
forcing them in the requisite direction, causing the aeromotor to
swing easily around and dart away almost at right angles to the track
of the tornado.
That roar was now as of a thousand
heavily laden trains rumbling over hollow bridges, and the professor
could only nod his approval when thus aroused from the dangerous
fascination. Another minute, and the air-ship was floating towards
the rear of the balloon-shaped cloud itself, each second granting the
passengers a varying view of the wonder.
True to the firm hand which set its
machinery in motion, the flying-machine maintained that gentle curve
until it swung around well to the rear of the cloud, where again
Professor Featherwit broke out in ecstatic praises of their
marvellous good fortune.
" 'Tis worth a life's ransom,
for never until now hath mortal being been blessed with such a
magnificent opportunity for taking notes and drawing deductions which
-- "
The professor nimbly ducked his head
to dodge a ragged splinter of freshly torn wood which came whistling
past, cast far away from the tornado proper by those erratic winds.
And at the same instant the machine itself recoiled, shivering and
creaking in all
-27-
its cunning joints under a gust of wind which seemed composed
of both ice and fire.
"Oh, I say!" gasped Waldo,
when he could rally from the sudden blow. "Turn the old thing
the other way, uncle Phaeton, and let's go look for -- well, almost
anything's better than this old cyclone!"
"Tornado, lad," swiftly
corrected the man of precision, leaning far forward, and gazing
enthralled upon the vision which fairly thrilled his heart to its
very centre. "Never again may we have such another opportunity
for making -- "
They were now directly in the rear
of the storm, and as the air-ship headed across that track of
destruction, it gave a drunken stagger, casting down its inmates,
from whose parching lips burst cries of varying import.
"Air! I'm choking!" gasped
Bruno, tearing open his shirt-collar with a spasmodic motion.
"Hold me fast!" echoed
Waldo, clinging desperately to the life-line. "It's drawing me
-- into the -- ah!"
Even the professor gave certain
symptoms of alarm for that moment, but then the danger seemed past as
the ship darted fairly across the storm-trail, hovering to the east
of that aerial phantom.
-28-
There was no difficulty in filling
their lungs now, and once more Professor Featherwit headed the
flying-machine directly for the balloon-shaped cloud, modulating its
pace so as to maintain their relative position fairly well.
"Take note how it progresses,
-- by fits and starts, as it were," observed Featherwit, now in
his glory, eyes asparkle and muscles aquiver, hair bristling as
though full of electricity, face glowing with almost painful
interest, as those shifting scenes were for ever imprinted upon his
brain.
"Sort of a hop, step, and jump,
and that's a fact," agreed Waldo, now a bit more at his ease
since that awful sense of suffocation was lacking. "I thought
all cyclones -- "
"Tornado, my dear boy!"
expostulated the professor.
"I thought they all went in
holy hurry, like they were sent for and had mighty little time in
which to get there. But this one, -- see how it stops to dance a jig
and bore holes in the earth!"
"Another exception to the
general rule, which is as you say," admitted the professor.
"Different tornadoes have been timed as moving from twelve to
seventy miles an hour, one passing a given point in half a score of
seconds, at another time being registered
-29-
as fully half an hour in clearing a single section.
"Take the destructive storm at
Mount Carmel, Illinois, in June of '77. That made progress at the
rate of thirty-four miles an hour, yet its force was so mighty that
it tore away the spire, vane, and heavy gilded ball of the Methodist
church, and kept it in air over a distance of fifteen miles.
"Still later was the Texas
tornado, doing its awful work at the rate of more than sixty miles an
hour; while that which swept through Frankfort, Kansas, on May 17,
1896, was fully a half-hour in crossing a half-mile stretch of
bottom-land adjoining the Vermillion River, pausing in its dizzy
waltz upon a single spot for long minutes at a time."
"Couldn't have been much left
when it got through dancing, if that storm was anything like this
one," declared Waldo, shivering a bit as he watched the awful
destruction being wrought right before their fascinated eyes.
Trees were twisted off and doubled
up like blades of dry grass. Mighty rocks were torn apart from the
rugged hills, and huge boulders were tossed into air as though
composed of paper. And over all ascended the horrid roar of ruin
beyond description, while from that misshapen balloon-cloud, with its
-30-
flattened top, the electric fluid shone and flashed, now in
great sheets as of flame, then in vicious spurts and darts as though
innumerable snakes of fire had been turned loose by the winds.
Still the aerial demon bored its
almost sluggish course straight towards the northwest, in this, as in
all else, seemingly bent on proving itself the exception to all
exceptions as Professor Featherwit declared.
The savant himself was now in his
glory, holding the tiller between arm and side, the better to
manipulate his hand-camera, with which he was taking repeated
snap-shots for future development and reference.
Truly, as he more than once
declared, mortal man never had, nor mortal man ever would have, such
a glorious opportunity for recording the varying phases of nature in
travail as was now vouchsafed themselves.
"Just think of it, lads!"
he cried, almost beside himself with enthusiasm. "This alone
will be sufficient to carry our names ringing through all time down
the corridors of undying fame! This alone would be more than enough
to -- Look pleasant, please!"
In spite of that awful vision so
perilously close before them, and the natural uncertainty which
attended
-31-
such a reckless venture, Waldo could not repress a chuckle at
that comical conclusion, so frequently used towards himself when
their uncle was coaxing them to pose before his pet camera.
"Is it -- surely this is not
safe, uncle Phaeton?" ventured Bruno, as another retrograde gust
of air smote their apparently frail conveyance with sudden force.
"Let's call it a day's work,
and knock off," chimed in Waldo. "If the blamed thing
should take a notion to balk, and rear back on its haunches, where'd
we come out at?"
Professor Featherwit made an
impatient gesture by way of answer. Speech just then would have been
worse than useless, for that tremendous roaring, crashing, thundering
of all sounds, seemed to fall back and envelop the air-ship as with a
pall.
A shower of sand and fine débris
poured over and around them, filling ears and mouths, and blinding
eyes for the moment, forcing the brothers closer to the floor of the
aerostat, and even compelling the eager professor to remit his taking
of notes for future generations.
Then, thin and reed-like, yet
serving to pierce that temporary obscurity and horrible jangle of
outer sounds, came the voice of their relative:
-32-
"Fear not, my children! The
Lord is our shield, and so long as he willeth, just so long shall we
-- Ha! didn't I tell ye so?"
For the blinding veil was torn away,
and once again the trio of adventurers might watch yonder grandly
awesome march of devastation.
"Heading direct for the
Olympics!" declared Professor Featherwit, digging the sand out
of his eyes and striving to clean his glasses without removing them,
clinging to tiller and camera through all. "What a grand and
glorious guide 'twould be for us!"
"If we could only hitch on --
like a tin can to the tail of a dog!" suggested Waldo, with
boyish sarcasm. "Not any of that in mine, thank you! I can wait.
No such mighty rush. No, -- sir!"
There came no answer to his words,
for just then that swooping air-demon turned to vivid fire, lightning
playing back and forth, from side to side, in every conceivable
direction, until in spite of the broad daylight its glory pained
those watching eyes.
"Did you ever witness the
like!" awesomely cried Bruno, gazing like one fascinated. "Who
could or would ever believe all that, even if tongue were able to
portray its wondrous beauty?"
"What a place that would be for
popping corn!"
-33-
contributed Waldo, practical or nothing, even under such
peculiar circumstances. "If I had to play poppy, though, I'd
want a precious long handle to the concern!"
More intensely interested than ever,
Professor Featherwit plied his shutter, taking shot after shot at
yonder aerial phenomena, feeling that future generations would surely
rise up to call him blessed when the results of his experiments were
once fairly spread before the world.
And hence it came to pass that still
more thrilling experiences came unto these daring navigators of
space, and that almost before one or the other of them could fairly
realise that greater danger really menaced both their air-ship and
their lives.
Another whirly-gust of sand and
other débris assailed the flying-machine, and while sight was
thus rendered almost useless for the time being, the aerostat began
to sway and reel from side to side, shivering as though caught by an
irresistible power, yet against which it battled as though instinct
with life and brain-power.
Once again the adventurers found it
difficult to breathe, while an unseen power seemed pressing them to
that floor as though -- Thank heaven!
Just as before, that cloud was swept
away, and
-34-
again air came to fill those painfully oppressed lungs. Once
again the trio cleared their eyes and stared about, only to utter
simultaneous cries of alarm.
For, brief though that period of
blindness had been, 'twas amply sufficient to carry the aeromotor
perilously near yonder storm-centre, and though Professor Featherwit
gripped hard his tiller, trying all he knew to turn the air-ship for
a safer quarter,-'twas all in vain!
"Haste, -- make haste, uncle
Phaeton!" hoarsely panted Bruno, leaning to aid the professor.
"We will be sucked in and -- hasten, for life!"
"I can't, -- we're already --
in the -- suction!"
-35-
Chapter 3
CHAPTER III.
RIDING THE TORNADO.
WHETHER it was that the air-ship
itself had increased its speed during those few moments of dense
obscurity, or whether the madly whirling winds had taken a retrograde
movement at that precise time, could only be a matter of conjecture;
but the ominous fact remained.
The aerostat was fairly over the danger-line, and, despite all efforts being made to the contrary, was being drawn directly towards that howling, crashing, thundering mass of destructive energy.
Already the inmates felt themselves being sucked from the flying-machine, and instinctively tightened their grip upon hand-rail and floor, gasping and oppressed, breath failing, and ribs apparently being crushed in by that horrible pressure.
"Hold fast -- for life!" pantingly screamed Professor Featherwit, as he strove in vain to check or change the course of his aeromotor, now for the first time beyond control of that master-hand.
-36-
A few seconds of soul-trying
suspense, during which the flying-machine shivered from stem to
stern, almost like a human creature in its death-agony, creaking and
groaning, with shrill sounds coming from those expanded, curved
wings, as the suction increased; then --
A merciful darkness fell over those
sorely imperilled beings, and the vessel itself seemed about to be
overwhelmed by an avalanche of sand and dirt and mixed débris.
Then came a dizzy, rocking lurch, followed by a shock which nearly
cast uncle and nephews from their frantic holds, and the air-ship
appeared to be whirled end for end, cast hither and yon, wrenched and
twisted as though all must go to ruin together.
A blast as of superheated air smote
upon them one moment, while in the next they were whirled through an
icy atmosphere, then tossed dizzily to and fro, as their too-frail
vehicle spun upward as though on a journey to the far-away stars.
A shrieking blast of wind served to
briefly clear away the choking dust, affording the trio a fleeting
glimpse of their immediate surroundings: hurtling sticks and stones,
splintered tops of trees, shrubs with wildly lashing roots freshly
torn from the bed of years, all madly spinning through a blinding,
-37-
scorching, freezing mass of crazily battling winds, the
different currents twining and weaving in and out, as so many hideous
serpents at play.
A moment thus, then that horrid
uproar grew still more deafening, and the air-ship was whirled high
and higher, in a dizzy dance, those luckless creatures clinging fast
to whatever their frenzied hands might clutch, feeling that this was
the end of all.
Further sight was denied them. They
were powerless to move a limb, save as jerked painfully by those
shrieking currents. Breath was taken away, and an enormous weight
bore down upon them, threatening to produce a fatal collapse through
their ribs giving way.
Upward whirled the flying-machine,
powerless now as those wretched beings within its cunning shape,
smitten sharply here and there by some of those ascending missiles,
yet without receiving material injury; until a last shivering lurch
came, ending in a sudden fall.
A dizzying swoop downward, but not
to death and destruction, for the aerostat alighted easily upon what
appeared to be a sort of air-cushion, and, though unsteady for a
brief space, then settled upon an even keel.
"Cling fast -- for life!"
huskily gasped the professor,
-38-
unwittingly repeating the caution which had last crossed his
lips, which he had ever since been striving to enunciate, faithful to
his guardianship over these, his sole surviving relatives.
"I don't -- where are we?"
Waldo lifted his head to peer with
half-blind eyes about them, in which action he was imitated by both
brother and uncle; but, for a brief space, they were none the wiser.
All around the aeromotor rose a wall
of whirling winds, seemingly impenetrable, apparently within reach of
an extended arm, changing colour with each fraction of a second,
hideously beautiful, yet never twice the same in blend or mixture.
A hollow, strangely sounding roar
was perceptible; one instant coming as from the far distance, then
from nigh at hand, causing the air-ship to quiver and tremble, as a
sentient being might in the presence of a torturing death.
"Look -- upward!" panted
Bruno, a few seconds later, his face as pale as that of a corpse, in
spite of the dirt and blotches of sticky mud with which he had been
peppered during that dizzy whirl.
Mechanically his companions in peril
obeyed, catching breath sharply, as they saw a clear sky and yellow
sunshine far above, -- so awfully far they were,
-39-
that it seemed like looking upward from the bottom of an
enormously deep well.
And then the marvellous truth
flashed upon the brain of Phaeton Featherwit, almost robbing him of
all power of speech. Still he managed to jerkily ejaculate:
"We're inside, -- riding the --
tornado -- itself!"
Then those whirling winds closed
quickly above them, shutting out the sunlight, hiding the heavens
from their view, enclosing that vehicle and its occupants, as they
were borne away into unknown regions, within the very heart of the
tornado itself!
Yet, incredible as it surely seems,
no actual harm came to the trio or to their flying-machine as it
swayed gently upon its airy cushion, although from every side came
the horrid roar of destruction, while ever and anon they could
glimpse a wrestling tree or torn mass of shrubbery whizzing upward
and outward, to be flung far away beyond the vortex of electrical
winds.
Once more came that awful sense of
suffocation. That painted pall closed down upon them, robbing their
lungs of air, one instant fairly crisping their hair with a touch of
fire, only to send an icy chill to their veins a moment later.
In vain they struggled, fighting for
breath, as a
-40-
fish gasps when swung from its native element. While that
horrid pressure endured, man, youth, and boy alike were powerless.
Again the pall lifted, folding back
and blending with those madly circling currents, once again affording
a glimpse of yonder far-away heavens, so marvellously clear, and
bright, and peaceful in seeming!
Weakened by those terrible moments,
Bruno and Waldo lay gasping, trembling, faint of heart and ill of
body, yet filling their lungs with comparatively pure air, -- pity
there was so little of it to win!
Professor Featherwit still had
thought and care for his nephews rather than himself alone, and
pantingly spoke, as he dragged himself to the snug locker, where many
important articles had been stowed away:
"Here -- suck life --
compressed air!"
With husky cries the brothers caught
at the tubes offered, the method of working which had so often been
explained by their relative.
Once more the tube became a chamber,
and that horrid force threatened to flatten their bodies; but the
worst had passed, for that precious cylinder now gave them air to
inhale, and they were enabled to wait for the lifting of the cloud
once more.
Thanks to this important agency,
strength and
-41-
energy both of body and of mind now came back to the
air-voyagers, and after a little they could lift their heads to peer
around them with growing wonder and curiosity.
There was little room left for
doubting the wondrous truth, and yet belief was past their powers
during those first few minutes.
All around them whirled and sped
those maddened winds, curling and twisting, rising and falling,
mixing in and out as though some unknown power might be weaving the
web of destiny.
Now dull, now brilliant, never twice
the same, but ever changing in colour as in shape, while stripes and
zigzags of lightning played here and there with terrifying menace,
those walls of wind held an awfully fascinating power for uncle and
nephews.
From every side came deadened sounds
which could bear but a single interpretation: the tornado was still
in rapid motion, was still tearing and rending, crushing and
battering, leaving dire destruction and ruin to mark its advance, and
these were the sounds that recorded its ugly work.
In goodly measure revived by the
compressed air, which was regulated in flow to suit his requirements
by a device of his own, Professor Featherwit now looked around with
something of his wonted animation,
-42-
heedless of his own peril for the moment, so great was his
interest in this marvellous happening.
So utterly incredible was it all
that, during those first few minutes of rallying powers, he dared not
express the belief which was shaping itself, gazing around in quest
of still further confirmation.
He took note of the windy walls
about their vessel, rising upward for many yards, irregular in shape
and curvature here and there, but retaining the general semblance of
a tube with flaring top. He peered over the edge of the basket, to
draw back dizzily as he saw naught but yeasty, boiling, seething
clouds below, -- a veritable air-cushion which had served to save the
pet of his brain from utter destruction at the time of falling within
--
Yes, there was no longer room for
doubt, -- they were actually inside the distorted balloon, so dreaded
by all residents of the tornado belt!
"What is it, uncle?"
huskily asked Bruno, likewise rallying under that beneficial
influence. "Where are we now?"
"Where I'm wishing mighty hard
we wasn't, anyhow!" contributed Waldo, with something of his
usual energy, although, judging from his face and eyes, the youngster
had suffered more severely than either of his comrades in peril.
-43-
IN THE HEART OF THE TORNADO.
-45-
Professor Featherwit broke into a
queerly sounding laugh, as he waved his free hand in exultation
before speaking:
"Where no living being ever was
before us, my lads, -- riding the tornado like a -- ugh!"
The air-ship gave an awkward lurch
just then, and down went the little professor to thump his head
heavily against one corner of the locker. Swaying drunkenly from side
to side, then tossing up and down, turning in unison with those
fiercely whirling clouds, the aeromotor seemed at the point of wreck
and ruin.
Desperately the trio clung to the
life-lines, clenching teeth upon the life-giving tubes as that
terrible pressure increased so much that it seemed impossible for the
human frame to longer resist.
Fortunately that ordeal did not long
endure, and again relief came to those so sorely oppressed. A brief
gasping, sighing, stretching as the aerostat resumed its level
position, merely rocking easily within that partial vacuum, and then
Waldo huskily suggested:
"Looks like the blame thing was
sick at the stomach!"
No doubt this was meant for a feeble
attempt at joking, but Professor Featherwit took it for earnest, and
made quick reply:
-46-
"That is precisely the case, my
dear lad, and I am greatly joyed to find that you are not so badly
frightened but that you can assist me in taking notes of this
wondrous happening. To think that we are the ones selected for -- "
"I say, uncle Phaeton."
"Well, my lad?"
"If this thing is really sick
at the stomach, when will it erupt? I'd give a dollar and a half to
just get out o' this, science or no science, notes or no notes at
all!"
"Patience, my dear boy,"
gravely spoke the little man of science, busily studying those
eddying currents like one seeking a fairly safe method of extrication
from peril. "It may come far sooner than you think, and with
results more disastrous than feeble words can tell. We surely are a
burden such as a tornado must be wholly unaccustomed to, and I really
believe these alternations are spasmodic efforts of the cloud itself
to vomit us forth; hence you were nearer right than you thought in
making use of that expression."
Just then came a rush of icy air,
and Bruno pantingly cried:
"I'm swelling up -- like Æsop's
-- bullfrog!"
-47-
Chapter 4
CHAPTER IV.
THE PROFESSOR'S
LITTLE EXPERIMENT.
AGAIN those involuntary riders of
the tornado were tossed violently to and fro in their seemingly frail
ship, while the balloon itself appeared threatened with instant
dissolution, those eddying currents growing broken and far less
regular in action, while the fierce tumult grew in sound and volume a
thousandfold.
All around the air-ship now showed ugly débris, limbs and boughs and even whole trunks of giant trees being whirled upward and outward, each moment menacing the vessel with total destruction, yet as frequently vanishing without infringing seriously upon their curious prison.
Sand and dirt and fragments of shattered rock whistled by in an apparently unending shower, only with reversed motion, flying upward in place of shooting downward to earth itself.
Speech was utterly impossible under the circumstances,
-48-
and the fate-tossed voyagers could only cling fast to the
hand-rail, and hold those precious air-tubes in readiness for the
worst.
Never before had either of the trio
heard such a deafening crash and uproar, and little wonder if they
thought this surely must herald the crack of doom!
The tornado seemed to reel backward,
as though repulsed by an immovable obstacle, and then, while the din
was a bit less deafening, Professor Featherwit contrived to make
himself heard, through screaming at the top of his voice:
"The mountain range, I fancy!
It's a battle to the -- "
That sentence was perforce left
incomplete, since the storm-demon gave another mad plunge to renew
the battle, bringing on a repetition of that drunken swaying so
upsetting to both mind and body.
A few seconds thus, then the tornado
conquered, or else rose higher in partial defeat, for their progress
was resumed, and comparative quiet reigned again.
The higher clouds curved backward,
affording a wider view of the heavens far above, and, as all eyes
turned instinctively in that direction, Bruno involuntarily
exclaimed:
-49-
"Still daylight! I thought --
how long has this lasted?"
"It's the middle o' next week;
no less!" positively affirmed his brother. "Don't tell me!
We've been in here a solid month, by my watch!"
Instead of making reply such as
might have been expected from one of his mathematical exactness,
Professor Featherwit gave a cry of dismay, while hurriedly moving to
and fro in their contracted quarters, for the time being forgetful of
all other than this, his great loss.
"What is it, uncle Phaeton?"
asked Bruno, rising to his knees in natural anxiety. "Surely
nothing worse than has already happened to us?"
"Worse? What could be worse
than losing for ever -- the camera, boys; where is the camera, I ask
you?"
Certainly not where the professor
was looking, and even as he roared forth that query, his heart told
him the sad truth; past doubting, the instrument upon whose aid he
relied to place upon record these marvellous facts, so that all
mankind might see and have full faith, was lost, -- thrown from the
aerostat, to meet with certain destruction, when the vessel first
came within the tornado's terrible clutch.
"Gone, -- lost, -- and now who
will believe that we
-50-
ever -- oh, this is enough to crush one's very soul!"
mourned the professor, throwing up his hands, and sinking back to the
floor of the flying-machine in a limp and disheartened heap for the
time being.
Neither Bruno nor Waldo could fully
appreciate that grief, since thoughts and care for self were still
the ruling passion with both; but once more they were called upon to
do battle with the swaying of the winds, and once again were they
saved only through that life-giving cylinder of compressed air.
Presently, the heart-broken
professor rallied, as was his nature, and, with a visible effort
putting his great loss behind him, endeavoured to cheer up his
comrades in peril.
"So far we have passed through
all danger without receiving material injury, -- to ourselves, I
mean, -- and surely it is not too much to hope for eventual escape?"
he said, earnestly, pressing the hands of his nephews, by way of
additional encouragement.
"Yes," hesitated Bruno,
with an involuntary shiver, as he glanced around them upon those
furiously boiling clouds, then cast an eye upward, towards yonder
clear sky. "Yes, but -- in what manner?"
"What'll we do when the cyclone
goes bu'st?"
-51-
cut in Waldo, with disagreeable bluntness. "It can't go
on for ever, and when it splits up, -- where will we be then?"
"I wish it lay within my power
to give you full assurance on all points, my dear boys," the
professor made reply. "I only wish I could ensure your perfect
safety by giving my own poor remnant of life -- "
"No, no, uncle Phaeton!"
cried the brothers, in a single breath.
"How cheerfully, if I only
might!" insisted the professor, his homely face wearing an
expression of blended regret and unbounded affection. "But for
me you would never have encountered these perils, nor ever -- "
Again he was interrupted by the
brothers, and forced to leave that regret unspoken to the end.
"Only for you, uncle Phaeton,
what would have become of us when we were left without parents, home,
fortune? Only for you, taking us in and treating us as though of your
own flesh and blood -- "
"As you are, my good lads! Let
it pass, then, but I must say that I do wish -- well, well, let it
pass, then!"
A brief silence, which was spent in
gripping hands
-52-
and with eyes giving pledges of love and undying confidence;
then Professor Featherwit spoke again, in an entirely different vein.
"If nothing else, we have
exploded one fallacy which has never met with contradiction, so far
as my poor knowledge goes."
"And that is -- what, uncle
Phaeton?"
"Observe, my lads," with a
wave of his hand towards those whirling walls, and then making a
downward motion. "You see that we are floating in a partial
vacuum, yet where there is air sufficient to preserve life under
difficulties. And by looking downward -- careful that you don't fall
overboard through dizziness, though!"
"Looks as though we were
floating just above a bed of ugly wind!" declared Waldo, after
taking a look below.
"Precisely; the aerostat rests
upon an air-cushion amply solid enough to sustain far more than our
combined weight. But what is the generally accepted view, my dear
boys?"
"You tell, for we don't know
how," frankly acknowledged Waldo.
"Thanks. Yet you are now far
wiser than all of the scientists who have written and published whole
libraries concerning these storm formations, but
-53-
whose fallacies we are now fully prepared to explode, once for
all, through knowledge won by personal investigation -- ahem!"
Strange though it may appear, the
professor forgot the mutual danger by which they were surrounded, and
trotted off on his hobby-horse in blissful pride, paying no attention
to the hideous uproar going on, only raising his voice higher to make
it heard by his youthful auditors.
"The common belief is that,
while these tornadoes are hollow, even through the trunk or tongue
down to its contact with the earth, that hollow is caused by a
constant suction, through which a steady stream of débris is
flowing, to be sown broadcast for miles around after emerging from
the open top of the so-called balloon."
"But it isn't at all like
that," eagerly cried Waldo, pointing to where the fragments were
flowing upward through those walls themselves, yet far enough from
that hollow interior to be but indistinctly seen save on rare
occasions. "Look at 'em scoot, will ye? Oh, if we could only
climb up like that!"
Professor Featherwit was keenly
watching and closely studying that very phenomena through all, and
now he gave a queer little chuckle, as he nodded his head with
vigour, before dryly speaking.
-54-
"Well, it might be done; yes,
it might be done, and that with no very serious difficulty, my lad."
"How? Why not try it on, then?"
"To meet with instant death
outside?" sharply queried Bruno. "It would be suicidal to
make the attempt, even if we could; which I doubt."
Waldo gave a sudden cry, pointing
upward where, far above that destructive storm, could be seen a brace
of buzzards floating on motionless wings, wholly undisturbed by the
tumult below.
"If we were only like that!"
the lad cried, longingly. "If a flying-machine could be built
like those turkey-buzzards! I wish -- well, I do suppose they're
about the nastiest varmints ever hatched, but just now I'd be willing
to swap, and wouldn't ask any boot, either!"
Apparently the professor paid no
attention to this boyish plaint, for he was fumbling in the locker,
then withdrew his hand and uncoiled an ordinary fish-line, with
painted float attached.
Before either brother could ask a
question, or even give a guess at his purpose, Professor Phaeton
flung hook and cork into those circling currents, only to have the
whole jerked violently out of his grip, the line flying upward, to
vanish from the sight of all.
That jerk was powerful enough to cut
through the
-55-
skin of his hand, but the professor chuckled like one
delighted, as he sucked away the few drops of blood before adding:
"I knew it! It can be
done, and if the worst should come to pass, why should it not be
done?"
Before an answer could be vouchsafed
by either of the brothers, the pall swooped down upon them once more,
and again the supply of natural air was shut off, while their vessel
was rocked and swayed crazily, just as though the delayed end was at
last upon them.
For several minutes this torture
endured, each second of which appeared to be an hour to those
imperilled beings, who surely must have perished, as they lay pinned
fast to the floor of the aerostat by that pitiless weight, only for
the precious air-tubes in connection with that cylinder of compressed
air.
After a seeming age of torment the
awful pressure was relaxed, leaving the trio gasping and shivering,
as they lay side by side, barely conscious that life lingered, for
the moment unable to lift hand or head to aid either self or another.
In spite of his far greater age,
Professor Featherwit was first to rally, and his voice was about the
first thing distinguished by the brothers, as their powers began to
rally.
-56-
"Shall we take our chances,
dear boys?" the professor was saying, in earnest tones. "I
believe there is a method of escaping from this hell-chamber,
although of what may lie beyond -- "
"It can't well be worse than
this!" huskily gasped Bruno.
"Anything -- everything -- just
to get out o' here!" supplemented Waldo, for once all spirits
subdued.
"It may be death for us all,
even if we do get outside," gravely warned the professor. "Bear
that in mind, dear boys. It may be that not one of us will escape
with life, after -- "
"How much better to remain
here?" interrupted Bruno. "I felt death would be a mercy --
then! And I'd risk anything, everything, rather than go through such
another ordeal! I say, -- escape!"
"Me too, all over!"
vigorously decided Waldo, lifting himself to both knees as he added:
"Tell us what to do, and here I am, on deck, uncle."
Even now Professor Phaeton
hesitated, his eyes growing dimmer than usual as they rested upon one
face after the other, for right well he knew how deadly would be the
peril thus invited.
But, as the brothers repeated their
cry, he turned away to swiftly knot a strong trail-rope to a heavy
-57-
iron grapnel, leaving the other end firmly attached to a
stanchion built for that express purpose.
"Hold fast, if you value life
at all, dear boys!" he warned, then added: "Heaven be kind
to you, even if my life pays the forfeit! Now!"
Without further delay, he cast the
heavy grapnel into that mass of boiling vapour, then fell flat, as an
awful jerk was given the aerostat.
-58-
Chapter 5
CHAPTER V.
THE PROFESSOR'S
UNKNOWN LAND.
THERE was neither time nor
opportunity for taking notes, for that long rope straightened out in
the fraction of a second, throwing all prostrate as the
flying-machine was jerked upward with awful force.
All around them raged and roared the mighty winds, while missiles of almost every description pelted and pounded both machine and inmates during those few seconds of extraordinary peril.
Fortunately neither the professor nor his nephews could fairly realise just what was taking place, else their brains would hardly have stood the test; and fortunately, too, that ordeal was not protracted.
A hideous experience while it lasted, those vicious currents dragging the aerostat upward out of the air-chamber by means of grapnel and rope, then casting all far away in company with wrecked trees and bushes, and even solider materials, all shrouded for a time in dust and débris, which hindered the eyesight of both uncle and nephews.
-59-
Through it all the brothers were
dimly aware of one fact uncle Phaeton was shrilly bidding them cling
fast and have courage.
All at once they felt as though
vomited forth from a volcano which alternately breathed fire and ice,
the clear light of evening bursting upon their aching, smarting eyes
with actual pain, while that horrid roar of warring elements seemed
to pass away in the distance, leaving them -- where, and how?
"We're falling to -- merciful
heavens! Hold fast, all!" screamed the professor, desperately
striving to regain full command of their air-ship. "The tiller
is jammed, but -- "
To all seeming, the aerostat had
sustained some fatal damage during that brief eruption caused by the
professor's little experiment, for it was pitching drunkenly end for
end, refusing to obey the hand of its builder, bearing all to certain
death upon the earth far below.
Half stupefied with fear, the
brothers clung fast to the life-line and glared downward, noting, in
spite of themselves, how swiftly yonder dark tree-tops and gray crags
were shooting heavenward to meet them and claim the sacrifice.
With fierce energy Professor
Featherwit jerked and wrenched at the steering-gear, uttering words
-60-
such as had long been foreign to his lips, but then -- just
when destruction appeared inevitable -- a wild cry burst from his
lungs, as a broken bit of native wood came away in his left hand,
leaving the lever free as of old!
And then, with a dizzying swoop and
rapid recovery, the gallant air-ship came back to an even keel,
sailing along with old-time grace and ease, barely in time to avoid
worse mishap as the crest of a tall tree was brushed in their
passage.
"Saved, -- saved, my lads!"
screamed the professor, as his heart-pet soared upward once more
until well past the danger-line. "Safe and sound through all, --
praises be unto the Lord, our Father!"
Neither brother spoke just then, for
they lay there in half stupor, barely able to realise the wondrous
truth: that their lives had surely been spared them, even as by a
miracle!
That swooping turn now brought their
faces towards the tornado, which was at least a couple of miles
distant, rapidly making that distance greater even while continuing
its work of destruction.
"And we -- were in it!"
huskily muttered Bruno, his lids closing with a shiver, as he averted
his face, unwilling to see more.
"Heap sight worse than being in
the soup, too, if
-61-
anybody asks you," declared Waldo, beginning to rally
both in strength and in spirit. "But -- what's the matter with
the old ship, uncle Phaeton?"
For the aerostat was indulging
itself in sundry distressing gyrations, pretty much as a boy's kite
swoops from side to side, when lacking in tail-ballast, while the
professor seemed unable to keep the machine under complete control.
"Nothing serious, only -- hold
fast, all! I believe 'twould be as well to make our descent, for fear
something -- steady!"
Just ahead there appeared a more
than usually open space in the forest, and, quite as much by good
luck as through actual skill, Professor Featherwit succeeded in
making a landing with no more serious mishap than sundry bruises and
a little extra teeth-jarring.
As quickly as possible, both Bruno
and Waldo pitched themselves out of the partially disabled aeromotor,
the elder brother grasping the grapnel and taking a couple of turns
of the strong rope around a convenient tree-trunk, lest the ship
escape them altogether.
"No need, my gallant boy!"
assured the professor, an instant later. "All is well, -- all is
well, thanks to an over-ruling Providence!"
In spite of this expressed
confidence, he hurriedly
-62-
looked over his pet machine, taking note of such injuries as
had been received during that remarkable journey, only giving over
when fairly satisfied that all damage might be readily made good,
after which the aerostat would be as trustworthy as upon its first
voyage on high.
Then, grasping the brothers each by
a hand, he smiled genially, then lifted eyes heavenward, to a moment
later sink upon his knees with bowed head and hands folded across his
bosom.
Bruno and Waldo imitated his action,
and, though no audible words were spoken, never were more heartfelt
prayers sent upward, never more grateful thanks given unto the Most
High.
Boy, youth, and man alike seemed
fairly awed into silence for the next few minutes, unable to so soon
cast off the spell which had fallen upon them, one and each, when
realising how mercifully their lives had been spared, even after all
earthly hope had been abandoned.
As usual, however, Waldo was first
to rally, and, after silently moving around the aerostat, upon which
the professor was already busily at work by the last gleams of the
vanished sun, he paused, legs separated, and hands thrust deep into
pockets, head perking on one side as he spoke, drawlingly:
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"I say, uncle Phaeton?"
"What is it, Waldo?"
"It'll never do to breathe even
a hint of all this, will it?"
"Why so, pray?"
"Whoever heard it would swear
we were bald-headed liars right from Storytown! And yet, -- did it
really happen, or have I been dreaming all the way through?"
Professor Featherwit gave a brief,
dry chuckle at this, rising erect to cast a deliberate glance around
their present location, then speaking:
"Without I am greatly mistaken,
my dear boy, you will have still other marvellous happenings to
relate ere we return to what is, rightfully or wrongfully, called
civilisation."
"Is that so? Then you really
reckon -- "
"For one thing, my lad, we are
now fairly entered upon a terra incognita, so far as our own race is
concerned. In other words, -- behold, the Olympics!"
Both Bruno and Waldo cast their eyes
around, but only a circumscribed view was theirs. The shades of
evening were settling fast, and on all sides they could see but
mighty trees, rugged rocks, a mountain stream from whose pebbly bed
came a soothing murmur.
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"Nothing so mighty much to brag
of, anyway," irreverently quoth Waldo, after that short-lived
scrutiny. "It wouldn't fetch a dollar an acre at auction, and
for my part, -- wonder when the gong will sound for supper?"
That blunt hint was effective, and,
letting the subject drop for the time being, even the professor
joined in the hurry for an evening meal, to which one and all felt
able to do full justice.
Although some rain had fallen at
this point as well, no serious difficulty was experienced in kindling
a fire, while Waldo had little trouble in heaping up a bounteous
supply of fuel.
Through countless ages the forest
monarchs had been shedding their superfluous boughs, while here and
there lay an entire tree, overthrown by some unknown power, and upon
which the brothers made heavy requisition.
Professor Featherwit took from the
locker a supply of tinned goods, together with a patent coffee-pot
and frying-pan, so convenient where space is scarce and stowage-room
precious.
With water from the little river, it
took but a few minutes more to scent the evening with grateful fumes,
after which the adventurous trio squatted there in the ruddy glow,
eating, sipping, chatting,
-65-
now and again forced to give thanks for their really
miraculous preservation after all human hopes had been exhausted.
Although Professor Featherwit was
but little less thankful for the wondrous leniency shown them, he
could not altogether refrain from mourning the loss of his camera,
with its many snap-shots at the tornado itself, to say nothing of
what he might have secured in addition, while riding the storm so
marvellously.
More to take his thoughts away from
that loss than through actual curiosity in the subject offered by way
of substitute, Bruno asked for further light upon the so-called terra
incognita.
"Of course it isn't really an
unknown land, though, uncle Phaeton?" he added, almost
apologetically. "In this age, and upon our own continent, such a
thing is among the impossibilities."
"Indeed? And, pray, how long
since has it been that you would, with at least equal positivity,
have declared it impossible to enter a tornado while in wildest
career, yet emerge from it with life and limb intact?"
"Yes, uncle, but -- this is
different, by far."
"In one sense, yes; in another,
no," affirmed the professor, with emphatic nod, brushing the
tips of his fingers together, as he moved back to assume a
-66-
more comfortable position inside the air-ship, then quickly
preparing a pipe and tobacco for his regular after-meal smoke.
A brief silence, then the professor
spoke, clearly, distinctly:
"Washington has her great
unknown land, quite as much as has the interior of Darkest Africa, my
boys, besides enjoying this peculiar advantage: while adventurous
white men have traversed those benighted regions in every direction,
even though little permanent good may have been accomplished, this
terra incognita remains virgin in that particular sense of the word."
"You mean, uncle?"
"That here in the Olympic
region you see what is literally an unknown, unexplored scope of
country, as foreign to the foot of mankind as it was countless ages
gone by. So far as history reads, neither white man nor red has ever
ventured fairly within these limits; a mountainous waste which rises
from the level country, within ten or fifteen miles of the Straits of
San Juan de Fuca, in the north, the Pacific Ocean in the west, Hood's
Canal in the east, and the barren sand-hills lying to the far south.
"This irregular range is known
upon the map as the Olympics, and, rising to the height of from six
-67-
to eight thousand feet, shut in a vast unexplored area.
"The Indians have never
penetrated it, so far as can be ascertained, for their traditions say
that it is inhabited by a very fierce tribe of warriors, before whose
might and strange weapons not one of the coast tribes can stand."
"One of the Lost Tribes of
Israel, shouldn't wonder," drawlingly volunteered Waldo,
stifling a yawn, and forced to rub his inflamed eyes with a
surreptitious paw.
Professor Featherwit, though plainly
absorbed in his curious theory, was yet quick to detect this evidence
of weariness, and laughed a bit, with change of both tone and manner,
as he spoke further:
"That forms but a partial
introductory to my lecture, dear lads, but perhaps it might be as
well to postpone the rest for a more propitious occasion. You have
undergone sore trials, both of -- Hark!"
Some sound came to his keen ears,
which the brothers failed to catch, but as they bent their heads in
listening, another noise came, which proved startling enough, in all
conscience, -- a shrill, maniacal screech, which sent cold chills
running races up each spine.
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Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI.
A BRACE OF UNWELCOME
VISITORS.
INSTINCTIVELY the brothers drew
nearer each other, as though for mutual protection, each one letting
hand drop to belt where a revolver was habitually carried, but which
was lacking now, thanks to the great haste with which they had taken
wing at the approach of the tornado.
"What is it? What can it mean?" asked Bruno and Waldo, almost in the same breath, as those fierce echoes died away in the distance.
Professor Featherwit made no immediate reply, but by the glow of yonder camp-fire he fumbled inside the magic locker, fetching forth firearms, then speaking in hushed tones:
"Wait. Listen for -- I knew it!"
From the opposite quarter came what might easily have been an echo of that first wild screech, only louder, longer, more savage, if such a thing be possible.
Prepared though they now were, neither brother
-69-
could refrain from shrinking and shuddering, so hideously that
cry sounded in their ears. But their uncle spoke in cool, clear
tones:
"There is nothing supernatural
about that, my lads. A panther or mountain lion, I dare say, scenting
the fumes of our cookery, and coming to claim a share."
"Then it isn't -- Nothing
spookish, uncle Phaeton?" ventured Waldo, in slightly unsteady
tones.
The professor gave swift assurance
upon that point, and, rallying as few youngsters would have done
under like circumstances, the brothers grasped the weapons supplied
their hands, waiting and watching for what was to come.
Once, twice, thrice those savage
calls echoed far and wide, but with each repetition losing a portion
of their terrors; and knowing now that prowling beasts surely were
drawing nigh the camp-fire, the flying machine was abandoned by the
trio, all drawing closer to the fire, which might prove no slight
protection against attack.
Then followed a period of utter
silence, during which their eyes roved restlessly around, striving to
sight the four-footed enemy ere an actual attack could be made.
Professor Featherwit was first to
glimpse a pair of
-70-
greenish eyes in silent motion, and, giving a low hiss of
warning to his nephews, that same sound serving to check further
progress on the part of the wild beast, his short rifle came to a
level, then emitted a peculiar sound.
Only the keenest of ears could have
noted that, for only the fraction of an instant later followed a
sharp explosion, the darkness beyond being briefly lit up by a
yellowish glare.
"That's enough, -- beware its
mate!" cried the professor, keenly alert for whatever might
ensue; but the words were barely across his lips when, with a vicious
snarl, a furry shape came flying through the air, knocking Featherwit
over as he instinctively ducked his head with arm flying up as
additional guard.
Both man and beast came very near
falling into the fire itself, and there ensued a wild, confused
scramble, out of which the brothers singled their enemy, Waldo
opening fire with a revolver, at close range, each shot causing the
lion to yell and snarl most ferociously.
A cat-like recovery, then the fatal
leap might have followed, for the confused professor was rising to
his feet again, fairly in front of the enraged brute; but ere worse
came, Waldo and Bruno were to the
-71-
rescue, one firing as rapidly as possible, his brother driving
a keen-bladed knife to the very hilt just back of that quivering
forearm.
One mad wrestle, in which both lads
were overthrown, then the gaunt and muscular brute stretched its
length in a shivering throe, dead even while it strove to slay.
Just as the professor hurried to the
front, beseeching his boys to keep out of peril if they loved him; at
which Waldo laughed outright, although never had he felt a warmer
love for the same odd-speaking, queer-acting personage than right at
that moment.
"I'm all right; how's it with
you, sir? And -- Bruno?"
"Without a scratch to remember
it by," promptly asserted the elder brother, likewise regaining
his feet and taking hasty account of stock. "No fault of his,
though!" giving that carcass a kick as he spoke. "My
gracious! I caught just one glimpse of them, and I was ready to make
affidavit that each fang would measure a foot, while his claws -- "
"Would pass through an elephant
and clinch on the other side," declared Waldo, stooping far
enough to lift one of those armed paws. "But, I say, Bruno, how
awfully they have shrunk, since then!"
Whether so intended or not, this
characteristic
-72-
break caused a mutual laugh, and, as there was neither sound
nor sign of further danger from like source, one and all satisfied
their curiosity by minutely inspecting the huge brute, stirring up
the fire for that purpose.
"An ugly customer, indeed, if
we had given him anything like a fair show," gravely uttered the
professor. "Only for your prompt assistance, my dear boys, what
would have become of poor me?"
"We acted on our own account,
as well, please remember, uncle. And even so, after all you have done
for us since -- "
"What was it you shot at, uncle
Phaeton?" interrupted Waldo, who was constitutionally averse to
aught which savoured of sentiment. "Another one of these --
little squirrels, was it?"
Snatching up a blazing brand, the
lad moved off in that direction, whirling the torch around his head
until it burst into clear flame, then lowering it closer to a bloody
heap of fur and powerful limbs, to give a short ejaculation of
wondering awe.
It was a headless body upon which he
gazed, ragged fragments of skin and a few splinters of bone alone
remaining to tell that a solid skull had so recently been thereon.
Professor Phaeton gave another of
his peculiar
-73-
little chuckles, as he drew near, then patted the compact
little rifle with which he had wrought such extraordinary work: a
weapon of his own invention, as were the dynamite-filled shells to
match.
"Although I am rather puny
myself, boys, with this neat little contrivance I could fairly well
hold my own against man or beast," he modestly averred.
"A modern David," gravely
added Bruno, while Waldo chimed in with:
"What a dandy Jack the
Giant-killer you would have been, uncle Phaeton, if you had only
lived in the good old days! I wish -- and yet I don't, either! Of
course, it might have been jolly old sport right then, but now, --
where'd I be, to-day?"
"A day on which has happened a
miracle far more marvellous than all that has been set down in
fairyland romance, my dear son," earnestly spoke the professor.
"And when the astounding truth shall have been published,
broadcast, throughout all Christendom, what praises -- "
"How thoroughly we shall be
branded liars, and falsificationers from `way up the crick'!"
exploded the youngster, making a wry grimace and moving on to view
the headless lion from a different standpoint.
"He means well, uncle Phaeton,"
assured Bruno,
-74-
in lowered tones. "He would not knowingly hurt your
feelings, sir, but -- may I speak out?"
"Why not?" quickly.
"Surely I am not one to stand in awe of, lad?"
"One to be loved and
reverenced, rather," with poorly hidden emotion; then rallying,
to add, "But when one finds it impossible to realise all that
has happened this afternoon, when one feels afraid to even make an
effort at such belief, how can the boy be blamed for feeling that all
others would pronounce us mad or -- wilful liars?"
Professor Phaeton saw the point, and
made a wry grimace while roughing up his pompadour and brushing his
closely trimmed beard with doubtful hand. After all, was the whole
truth to be ever spoken?
"Well, well, we can determine
more clearly after fully weighing the subject," he said, turning
back towards the flying-machine. "And, after all, what has
happened to us thus far may not seem so utterly incredible after our
explorations are completed."
"Of this region, do you mean,
sir?"
"Of the Olympic mountains, and
all their mountainous chain may encompass, -- yes," curtly spoke
the man of hopes, stepping inside the aerostat to perfect his
arrangements for the night.
Waldo took greater pleasure in
viewing the mountain
-75-
lion towards whose destruction he had so liberally
contributed, but when he spoke of removing the skin, Bruno objected.
"Why take so much trouble for
nothing, Waldo? Even if we could stow the pelts away on board, they
would make a far from agreeable burden. And if what I fancy lies
before us is to come true, the more lightly we are weighted, the more
likely we are to come safely to -- well, call it civilisation, just
for a change."
"Then you believe that uncle
Phaeton is really in earnest about exploring this region, Bruno?"
"He most assuredly is. Did you
ever know him to speak idly, or to be otherwise than in earnest,
Waldo?"
"Well, of course uncle is all
right, but -- sometimes -- "
A friendly palm slipped over those
lips, cutting short the speech which might perchance have left a
sting behind. And yet the worthy professor had no more enthusiastic
acolyte than this same reckless speaking youngster, when the truth
was all told.
Leaving the animals where they had
fallen, for the time being, the brothers passed over to where rested
the aeromotor, finding the professor busily engaged in rigging up a
series of fine wires, completely surrounding
-76-
the flying-machine, save for one narrow, gate-like
arrangement.
"Beginning to feel as though
you could turn in for all night, eh, my boys?" came his cheery
greeting.
"Well, somehow I do feel as
though `the sandman' had been making his rounds rather earlier than
customary," dryly said Waldo, winking rapidly. "I believe
there must have been a bit more wind astir to-day than common,
although neither of you may have noticed the fact."
Professor Featherwit chuckled softly
while at work, but neither he nor Bruno made reply in words. And
then, his arrangements perfected save for closing the circuit, which
could only be done after all hands had entered the air-ship, he spoke
to the point:
"Come, boys. You've had a rough
bit of experience this day, and there may be still further trouble in
store, here in this unknown land. Better make sure of a full night's
rest, and thus have a reserve fund to draw upon in case of need."
There was plenty of sound common
sense in this adjuration, and, only taking time to procure a can of
fresh water from yonder stream, the two youngsters stepped within
that charmed circle, permitting their uncle to close the circuit, and
then test the
-77-
queer contrivance to make sure all was working nicely.
A confused sound broke forth,
resembling the faraway tooting of tin horns, which blended
inharmoniously with the ringing of nearer bells, all producing a
noise which was warranted to arouse the heaviest sleeper from his
soundest slumber.
"That will give fair warning in
case any intruder drifts this way," declared the professor,
chucklingly, then sinking down and wrapping himself up in a
close-woven blanket, similar to those employed by the boys.
"Even a ghost, or a goblin, do
you reckon, uncle Phaeton?"
"Should such attempt to
intrude, yes. Go to sleep, you young rascal!"
But that proved to be far more
readily spoken than lived up to. Not but that the brothers were
weary, jaded, and sore of muscle enough to make even the thought of
slumber agreeable; but their recent experience had been so thrilling,
so nerve-straining, so far apart from the ordinary routine of life,
that hours passed ere either lad could fairly lose himself in sleep.
Still, when unconsciousness did
steal over their weary brains, it proved to be all the more complete,
-78-
and after that neither Bruno nor Waldo stirred hand or foot
until, well after the dawn of a new day, Professor Featherwit shook
first one and then the other, crying shrilly:
"Turn out, youngsters! A new
day, and plenty of work to be done!"
-79-
Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
THE PROFESSOR'S
GREAT ANTICIPATIONS.
A STRETCH and a yawn, which in
Waldo's case ended in a prolonged howl, which would not have
disgraced either of their four-footed visitors of the past evening,
then the brothers Gillespie sprung forth from the flying-machine,
entering upon a race for the brawling mountain stream, "shedding"
their garments as they ran.
"First man in!" cried Bruno, whose clothes seemed to slip off the more readily; but Waldo was not to be outdone so easily, and, reckless of the consequences, he plunged into the eddying pool, with fully half of his daylight rig still in place.
The water proved to be considerably deeper than either brother had anticipated, and Waldo vanished from sight for a few seconds, then reappearing with lusty puff and splutter, shaking the pearly drops from his close-clipped curls, while ranting:
"Another vile fabrication nailed to the standard of truth, and clinched by the hammer of -- ouch!"
-80-
A wild flounder, then the youngster
fairly doubled himself up, acting so strangely that Bruno gave a
little cry of alarm; but ere the elder brother could take further
action, Waldo swung his right arm upward and outward, sending a
goodly sized trout flashing through the air to the shore, crying in
boyish enthusiasm:
"Glory in great chunks! I want
to camp right here for a year to come! Will ye look at that now?"
Bruno had to dodge that writhing
missile, and, before he could fairly recover himself, Waldo had
floundered ashore, leaving a yeasty turmoil in his wake, but then
throwing up a dripping hand, and speaking in an exaggerated whisper:
"Whist, boy! On your life, not
so much as the ghost of a whimper! The hole's ramjammed chuck full of
trout, and we'll have a meal fit for the gods if -- where's my
fishing tackle?"
Bruno picked up the trout, so
queerly brought to light, really surprised, but feigning still
further, as he made his examination.
"It really is a trout,
and -- how long have you carried this about in your clothes, Waldo
Gillespie?"
"Not long enough for you to
build a decent joke over it, brother mine. Just happened so. Tried to
ram its nose in one of my pockets, and of course I
-81-
had to take him in out of the wet. Pool's just full of them,
too, and I wouldn't wonder if -- oh, quit your talking, and do
something, can't you, boy?"
Vigorously though he spoke, Waldo
wound up with a shiver and sharp chatter of teeth as the fresh
morning air struck through his dripping garments. He gave a coltish
prance, as he turned to seek his fishing tackle; but, unfortunately
for his hopes of speedy sport, the professor was nigh enough to both
see and hear, and at once took charge of the reckless youngster.
"Wet to the hide, and upon an
empty stomach, too! You foolish child! Come, strip to the buff, and
put on some of these garments until -- here by the fire, Waldo."
And thus taken in tow, the lad was
forced to slowly but thoroughly toast his person beside the freshly
started fire, ruefully watching his brother deftly handle rod and
line, in a remarkably short space of time killing trout enough to
furnish all with a bounteous meal.
"And I was the discoverer,
while you reap all the credit, have all the fun!" dolefully
lamented Waldo, when the catch was displayed with an ostentation
which may have covered just a tiny bit of malice. "I'll put a
tin ear on you, Amerigo Vespucius!"
-82-
"All right; we'll have a merry
go together, after you've cleaned the trout for cooking, lad,"
laughed his elder.
Waldo gazed reproachfully into that
bright face for a brief space, then bowed head in joined hands, to
sob in heartfelt fashion, his sturdy frame shaking with poorly
suppressed grief -- or mirth?
Bruno passed an arm caressingly over
those shoulders, murmuring words of comfort, earnestly promising to
never sin again in like manner, provided he could find forgiveness
now. And then, with deft touch, that same hand held his garment far
enough for its mate to let slip a wriggling trout adown his brother's
back.
Waldo howled and jumped wildly, as
the cold morsel slipped along his spine, and ducking out of reach,
the elder jester called back:
"Land him, boy, and you've
caught another fish!"
Although laughing heartily himself,
Professor Featherwit deemed it a part of wisdom to interfere now,
and, ere long, matters quieted down, all hands engaged in preparing
the morning meal, for which all teeth were now fairly on edge.
If good nature had been at all
disturbed, long before that breakfast was despatched it was fully
-83-
restored, and of the trio, Waldo appeared to be the most
enthusiastic over present prospects.
"Why, just think of it, will
you?" he declaimed, as well as might be with mouth full of
crisply fried mountain trout. "where the game comes begging for
you to bowl it over, and the very fish try to jump into your pockets
-- "
"Or down your back, Amerigo,"
interjected Bruno, with a grin.
"Button up, or you'll turn to
be a Sorry-cus -- tomer / , old man,"
came the swift retort, with a portentous frown. "But, joking
aside, why not? With such hunting and fishing, I'd be willing to sign
a contract for a round year in this region."
"To say nothing of exploration,
and such discoveries as naturally attend upon -- "
"Then you really mean it all,
uncle Phaeton?"
Leaning back far enough to pluck a
handful of green leaves, which fairly well served the purpose of a
napkin, Professor Featherwit brought forth pipe and pouch,
maintaining silence until the fragrant tobacco was well alight. Then
he gave a vigorous nod of his head, to utter:
"It has been the dearest dream
of my life for more years gone by than you would readily credit, my
lads; or, in fact, than I would be wholly willing to
-84-
confess. And it was with an eye single to this very adventure
that I laboured to devise and perfect yonder machine."
"A marvel in itself, uncle
Phaeton. Only for that, where would we have been, yesterday?"
seriously spoke the elder Gillespie.
"I know where we wouldn't have
been: inside that blessed cy-nado!"
"Nor here, where you can catch
brook trout in your clothes without the trouble of taking them off,
youngster."
"And where you'll catch a
precious hiding, without you let up harping on that old string; it's
way out of tune already, old man,"
"Tit for tat. Excuse us,
please, uncle Phaeton. We're like colts in fresh pasture, this
morning," brightly apologised Bruno, for both.
Apparently the professor paid no
attention to that bit of sparring between his nephews, staring into
the glowing camp-fire with eyes which surely saw more than yellow
coals or ruddy flames could picture; eyes which burned and sparkled
with all the fires of distant youth.
"The dearest dream of all my
life!" he repeated, in half dreamy tones, only to rouse himself,
with a a start and shoulder shake, an instant later, forcing
-85-
a bright smile as he glanced from face to face. "And why
not? How better could my last years be employed than in piercing the
clouds of mystery, and doubt, and superstition, with which this vast
tract has been enveloped for uncounted ages?"
"Is it really so unknown, then,
uncle Phaeton?" hesitatingly asked Bruno, touched, in spite of
himself, by that intensely earnest tone and expression. "Of
course, I know what the Indians say; they are full of a rude sort of
superstitious awe, which -- "
"Which is one of the surest
proofs that truth forms a foundation for that very superstition,"
quickly interjected the professor. "It is an undisputed fact
that there are hundreds upon hundreds of square miles of terra
incognita, lying in this corner of Washington Territory. No white man
ever fairly penetrated these wilds, even so far as we may have been
carried while riding the tornado. Or, if so, he assuredly has never
returned, or made known his discoveries."
"Provided there was anything
beyond the ordinary to see or experience, shouldn't we add, uncle?"
suggested Waldo, modestly.
"There is, -- there must be! No
matter how wildly improbable their traditions may seem in our
judgment, it only takes calm investigation to bring a
-86-
fair foundation to light. In regard to this vast scope of
country, go where you will among the natives, question whom you see
fit, as to its secrets, and you will meet with the same results: a
deep-seated awe, a belief which cannot be shaken, that here strange
monsters breed and flourish, matched in magnitude and power by an
armed race of human beings, before whose awful might other tribes are
but as ants in the pathway of an elephant."
Waldo let escape a low, prolonged
whistle of mingled wonder and incredulity, but Bruno gave him a
covert kick, himself too deeply interested to bear with a careless
interruption just then.
"Of course there may be
something of exaggeration in all this," admitted the
enthusiastic professor. "Undoubtedly, there is at least a fair
spice of that; but, even so, enough remains to both waken and hold
our keenest interest. Listen, and take heed, my good lads.
"You have often enough, of late
days, noticed these mountains, and if you remark their altitude, the
vast scope of country they dominate, the position they fill, you must
likewise realise one other fact: that an immense quantity of snow in
winter, rain in spring and autumn, surely must fall throughout the
Olympics. Understand?"
-87-
"Certainly; why not, uncle
Phaeton?"
"Then tell me this: where does
all the moisture go to? What becomes of the surplus waters? For it is
an acknowledged fact that, though rivers and brooks surely exist in
the Olympics, not one of either flows away from this wide tract of
country!"
The professor paused for a minute,
to let his words take full effect, then even more positively
proceeded:
"You may say, what I have had
others offer by way of solution, that all is drained into a mighty
inland sea or enormous lake. Granting so much, which I really believe
to be the truth as far as it goes, why does that lake never overflow?
Of all that surely must drain into its basin, be that enormously wide
and deep as it may, how much could ordinary evaporation dispose of?
Only an infinitesimal portion; scarcely worth mentioning in such
connection. Then, -- what becomes of the surplusage?"
Another pause, during which neither
Gillespie ventured a solution; then the professor offered his own
suggestion:
"It must flow off in some
manner, and what other manner can that be than -- through a
subterranean connection with the Pacific Ocean?"
-88-
Bruno gave a short ejaculation at
this, while Waldo broke forth in words, after his own particular
fashion:
"Jules Verne redivivus! Why
can't we take a trip through the centre of the earth, or -- or
-- any other little old thing like that?"
"With the tank of compressed
air as a life-preserver?" laughed Bruno, in turn. "That
might serve, but; unfortunately, we have only the one, and we are
three in number, boy."
"Only two, now; I'm squelched!"
sighed the jester, faintly.
If the professor heard, he heeded
not. Still staring with vacant gaze into the fire, his face bearing a
rapt expression curious to see, he broke into almost unconscious
speech:
"An enormous inland sea! Where
float the mighty ichthyosaurus, the megalosaurus, in company with the
gigantic plesiosaurus! Upon whose sloping shores disport the enormous
mastodon, the stately megatherium, the tremendous -- eh?"
For Waldo was now afoot, brandishing
a great branch broken from a dead tree, uttering valiant war-whoops,
and dealing tremendous blows upon an imaginary enemy, spouting at the
top of his voice a frenzied jargon, which neither his auditors nor
himself could possibly make sense out of.
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Bruno, ever sensitive through his
affectionate reverence for their uncle, caught the youngster, and
cast him to earth, whereupon Waldo pantingly cried:
"Go on, please, uncle Phaeton.
It's next thing to a museum and menagerie combined, just to hear -- "
"Will you hush, boy?"
demanded Bruno, yet unable to wholly smother a laugh, so ridiculous
did it all sound and seem.
But Professor Featherwit declined,
his foxy face wrinkling in a bashful laugh. Whether so intended or
not, he had been brought down to earth from that dizzy flight, and
now was fairly himself again.
"Well, my dear boys, I dare say
it seems all a matter of jest and sport to you; yet, after our riding
in the centre of a tornado for uncounted miles, coming forth with
hardly a scratch or a bruise to show for it all, who dare say such
things may not be, even yet?"
"But, -- those strange
creatures are gone; the last one perished thousands upon thousands of
years ago, uncle Phaeton."
"So it is said, and so follows
the almost universal belief. Yet I have seen, felt, cooked, tasted,
and ate to its last morsel a steak from a mammoth.
-90-
True, the creature was dead; had been preserved for ages, no
doubt, within the glacier which finally cast it forth to human view;
yet who would have credited such a discovery, only fifty years ago?
He who dared to even hint at such a thing would have been derided and
laughed at, pronounced either fool or lunatic. And so, -- if we
should happen to discover one or all of those supposedly extinct
creatures here in this terra incognita, I would be overjoyed rather
than astounded."
Bruno looked grave at this
conclusion, but Waldo was not so readily impressed, and, with
shrugging shoulders, he made answer:
"Well, uncle, I'm not quite so
ambitious as all that comes to. May I give you my idea of it all?"
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Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
A DUEL TO THE
DEATH.
PROFESSOR FEATHERWIT nodded assent,
and, after a brief chuckle, Waldo resumed:
"You can take all those big fellows with the jaw-breaking names, but as for me, smaller game will do. Maybe a fellow couldn't fill his bag quite so full, nor quite so suddenly, but there would be a great deal more sport, and a mighty sight less danger, I take it!"
It was by no means difficult to divine that the professor had not yet spoken all that busied his brain, but the thread was broken, his pipe was out, and, emptying the ashes by tapping pipe-bowl against the heel of his shoe, he rose erect, once more the man of action.
"You will have to clear up, lads, for I must make such few repairs as are necessary to restore the aerostat to a state of efficiency. So long as that remains in serviceable condition, we will always have a method of advance or retreat. Without it -- well, I'd rather not think of the alternative."
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That dry tone and quiet sentence did
more than all else to impress the brothers with a sense of their
unique position. Back came the remembrance of all they had gathered
concerning this strange scope of country since first settling down
fairly within the shadows of the Olympics, there to put that strange
machine together, preparing for what was to prove a wonder-tour
through many marvellous happenings.
Times beyond counting they had been
assured by the natives that no mortal could fairly penetrate that
vast wilderness. Natural obstacles were too great for any man to
surmount, without saying aught of what lay beyond; of the enormous
animals, such as the civilised world never knew or fought with; of
the terrible natives, taller than the pines, larger than the hills,
more powerful by far than the gods themselves, eager to slay and to
devour, -- so eager that, at times, living flesh and blood was more
grateful than all to their depraved tastes!
"Do you really reckon there is
anything in it all, Bruno?" asked the younger brother in lowered
tones, glancing across to where their uncle was busily engaged in
those comparatively trifling repairs.
"It hardly seems possible, and
yet -- would the members of four different tribes tell a story so
nearly
-93-
alike, without they had at least a foundation of truth to go
upon?"
"That's right. And yet -- the
inland sea sounds natural enough. We know, too, that there are such
things as underground rivers, outside of Jules Verne's yarns. But
those animals, -- or reptiles, -- which?"
"Both, I believe,"
answered Bruno, with a subdued laugh.
"That's all right, old man. I
never was worth a continental when it came to such things. I prefer
to live in the present, and so -- well, now, will you just look at
that old cow!"
In surprise Waldo pointed across to
where a bovine shape showed not far beyond the pool at the base of
the miniature waterfall; but his brother had a fairer view, and,
instantly divining the truth, grasped an arm and hastily whispered:
"Hush, boy; can't you see? It's
a buffalo, a hill buffalo, and -- "
"Quick! the guns are in the
machine! Down, Bruno, and maybe we can get a shot and -- "
His eager whisper was cut short,
though not by grip of arm or act by his brother. A rumbling roar
broke forth from the further side of that mountain stream, and as the
dense bushes beyond were violently
-94-
agitated, the hill buffalo wheeled that way with marvellous
rapidity.
Just as a long head and mighty
shoulders spread the shrubbery wide apart, jaws opening and lips
curling back to lay great teeth bare, while another angry sound, half
growl, half snort, only too clearly proclaimed that monster of the
mountains, a grizzly bear.
"Smoke o' sacrifice!"
gasped Waldo, as the grizzly suddenly upreared its mighty bulk, head
wagging, paws waving in queer fashion, lolling tongue lending the
semblance of drollery rather than viciousness.
"This way; to your guns, boys!"
cautiously called out the professor, whose notice had likewise been
caught by those unusual sounds, and who had already armed himself
with his pet dynamite gun.
"Careful! He'll make a break
for us at first sight, unless -- down close, and crawl for it,
brother!"
Bruno set the good example, and
Waldo was not too proud of spirit to humble himself in like manner.
Although this was their first glimpse of "Old Eph" in his
native wilds, both brothers entertained a very respectful opinion of
his prowess.
Under different circumstances their
expectations might have been more fully met, but just now the
-95-
grizzly seemed wholly occupied with the buffalo bull, whose
sturdy bulk and armed front so resolutely opposed his further
progress towards that common goal, the pool of water.
The boys quickly reached the
flying-machine and gripped the Winchester rifles which Professor
Featherwit had drawn forth from the locker at first sight of the
dangerous game. Thus armed, they felt ready for whatever might come,
and stood watching yonder rivals with growing interest.
"Will you look at that, now?"
excitedly breathed Waldo, eyes aglow, as he saw the bull cock its
tail on high and tear up the soft soil with one fierce sweep of its
cloven hoof, shaking head and giving vent to a low but determined
bellow.
"It means a fight unto the
death, I think," whispered the professor.
"It's dollars to doughnuts on
the bear," predicted Waldo. "Scat, you bull-headed idiot!
Don't you know that you're not deuce high to his ace? Can't you see
that he can chew you up like -- "
"Are you mighty sure of all
that, boy?" laughingly cut in Bruno; for at that moment the
buffalo made a sudden charge at his upright adversary, knocking the
grizzly backward in spite of its viciously flying paws.
-96-
"Great Peter on a bender! If I
ever -- no, I never!"
Even the professor was growing
excited, holding the dynamite gun under one arm while gently tapping
palms together as an encore.
Naturally enough, their sympathies
were with the buffalo, since the odds seemed so immensely against
him; but their delight was short-lived, for, instead of following up
the advantage so bravely won, the bull fell back to paw and bellow
and shake his shaggy front.
With marvellous activity for a brute
of his enormous bulk and weight, the grizzly recovered its feet, then
lumbered forward with clashing teeth and resounding growls.
Nothing loath, the buffalo met that
charge, and for a short space of time the struggle was veiled by
showers of leaf-mould and damp dirt cast upon the air as the rivals
fought for supremacy -- and for life.
For that this was destined to be a
duel to the very death not one of those spectators could really
doubt. That encounter may have been purely accidental, but the
creatures fought like enemies of long standing.
As their relative positions changed,
the buffalo
-97-
THE DUEL.
-99-
contrived to get in another vigorous butt, sending bruin end
for end down that gentle slope to souse into the pool of water, that
cool element cutting short a savage roar of mad fury.
Then the trio of spectators could
take notes, and with something of sorrow they saw that the buffalo
had already suffered severely, bleeding from numerous great gashes
torn by the grizzly's long talons, while one bloody eye dangled below
its socket, held only by a thread of sinew.
Nor had bruin escaped without hurt,
as all could see when he floundered out of the water, bent upon
renewing the duel; but there was little room left for doubting what
the ultimate result would be were the animals left to their own
devices.
Like all bold, free-hearted lads,
Waldo ever sympathised with the weaker, and now, unable to hold his
feelings in check, he gave a short cry, levelling his Winchester and
opening fire upon the grizzly, just as it won fairly clear of the
water.
Stung to fury by those pellets, the
brute reared up with a horrid roar, turning as though to charge this
new enemy; but ere he could do more, the professor's gun spoke, and
as the dynamite shell exploded, bruin fell back a writhing mass, his
head literally smashed to pieces.
-100-
Heedless of all else, the wounded
buffalo charged with lusty bellow, goring that quivering mass with
unabated fury, though its life was clearly leaking out through those
ghastly cuts and slashes.
A brief pause, then Professor
Featherwit swiftly reloaded his gun, sending another shell across the
stream, this time more as a boon than as punishment.
Smitten fairly in the forehead, the
bull dropped as though beneath a bolt of lightning, life going out
without so much as a single struggle or a single pang.
"Twas better thus,"
declared the professor, as Waldo gave a little ejaculation of dismay.
"He must have bled to death in a short time, and this was true
mercy. Besides, buffalo meat is very good eating, and the day may
come when we shall need all we can get. Who knows?"
After the animals were inspected,
and due comment made upon the awfully sure work wrought by the
dynamite gun, the professor suggested that, while he was completing
repairs upon the aeromotor, the brothers should secure a supply of
fish and of flesh, cooking sufficient to provide for several meals,
for there was no telling just when they would have an equal chance.
"Just as soon as we can put all
in readiness," he
-101-
continued, "I am going to leave this spot. My first wish
is to thoroughly test the aerostat, to make certain it has received
no serious injury. Then, if all promises well, I mean to begin our
tour of exploration, hoping that we may, at least, find something
well worthy the strange reputation given these Olympics by the
natives."
Without raising any objections, the
brothers fell to work, Bruno looking after the flesh, while Waldo
undertook to supply the fish. That was but fair, since he had been
cheated out of catching the first mess.
Not a little to his delight, the
professor found that the flying-machine would promptly answer his
touch and will, rising easily off the ground, then descending at
call, evidently having passed through the ordeal of the bygone
evening without serious harm.
Still, all this consumed time, and
it was after a late dinner that everything was pronounced in
readiness for an ascension: the meat and fish nicely cooked and
packed for carriage, a pot of strong coffee made and stowed beyond
risk of leakage, the flying-machine itself quivering in that gentle
breeze as though eager to find itself once more afloat far above the
earth and its obstructions to easy navigation.
-102-
Waldo expressed some grief at
leaving a spot where game came in such plentitude to find the hunter,
and trout simply longed to be caught; but upon being assured of other
opportunities, perhaps even more delightful, he sighed and gave
consent to mount into space.
"Only -- don't ask me to tackle
any of those big dictionary fellows such as you talked about this
morning, uncle Phaeton, for I simply can't; they'd get away with my
baggage while I was trying to spell their names and title -- and all
that!"
Without any difficulty the aeromotor
was sent out of and above the forest, heading towards the northwest;
that is, direct for the heart of the Olympics, of whose marvels
Professor Featherwit held such exalted hopes and expectations.
Grim and forbidding those mountains
looked as the air-ship sailed swiftly over them, opening up a wider
view when the bare, rugged crest was once left fairly to the rear.
Save for those bald crowns, all below appeared a solid carpet of
tree-tops, now lower, there higher, yet ever the same: seemingly
impenetrable to man, should such an effort be made.
Once fairly within the charmed
circle, leaving the rocky ridge behind, Professor Featherwit
slackened speed, permitting the ship to drift onward at a
-103-
moderate pace, one hand touching the steering-gear, while its
fellow held a pair of field-glasses to his eager eyes.
All at once he gave a half-stifled
cry, partly rising in his excitement, then crying aloud in thrilling
tones:
"The sea, -- an inland sea!"
-104-
Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
GRAPPLING A QUEER
FISH.
AT nearly the same moment both Bruno
and Waldo caught a glimpse of water, shining clear and distinct
amidst that sombre setting; but as yet a tree-crested elevation
interfered with the prospect, and it was not until after the course
of the air-ship had been materially changed, and some little time had
elapsed, that aught definite could be determined as to the actual
spread of that body of water.
This proved to be considerable, although it needed but a single look into the professor's face to learn that his eager hopes and exalted anticipations fell far short of realisation.
"Well, it's a sea all right," generously declared Waldo, giving a vigorous sniff by way of strengthening his words. "I can smell the salt clear from this. A sea, even if it isn't quite so large as others, -- what one might term a lower-case c!"
If nothing else, that generous effort brought its reward in the dry little chuckle which escaped the
-105-
professor's lips, and a kindly glow showed through his glasses
as he turned towards Waldo with a nod of acknowledgment.
"Barring the salty scent, my
dear boy, which probably finds birth in your kindly imagination. So,
on the whole, perhaps 'twould be just as well to term it a lake."
"One of no mean dimensions, at
any rate, uncle Phaeton."
"True, Bruno," with a nod
of agreement, yet with forehead contracting into a network of
troubled lines. "Naturally so, and yet -- surely this must be
merely a portion? Unless -- yet I fail to see aught which might be
interpreted as being -- "
Promptly responding to each touch of
hand upon steering-gear, the aeromotor swung smoothly around, sailing
on even keel right into the teeth of the gentle wind, by this time
near enough to that body of water for the air-voyagers to scan its
surface: a considerable expanse, all told, yet by no means of such
magnitude as Professor Featherwit had anticipated.
Too deeply absorbed in his own
thoughts to notice the little cries and ejaculations which came from
the brothers, he caused the aerostat to rise higher, slowly sweeping
that extended field with his glasses.
He could see where several streams
entered the
-106-
body of water, coming from opposite points of the compass, and
thus confirming at least one portion of his explained theory; but, so
far as his visual powers went, there was no other considerable body
of water to be discovered.
"Yet, how can that contracted
basin contain all the drainage from this vast scope of country? How
can we explain the stubborn fact of -- What now, lads?"
An abrupt break, but one caused by
the eager cry and loud speech from the lips of the younger Gillespie.
"Looky yonder! Isn't that one
o' those sour-us dictionary fellows on a bender? Isn't that -- but I
don't -- no, it's only -- "
"Only a partly decayed tree
gone afloat!" volunteered Bruno, with a merry laugh, as his
eager brother drew back in evident chagrin.
"Well, that's all right. It
ought to've been one, even if it isn't. What's the use in coming all
this way, if we're not going to discover something beyond the common?
And my sour-us is worth more than one of the other kind, after all;
get it ashore and you might cook dinner for a solid month by it; now
there!"
It was easily to be seen that Waldo
had been giving free rein to his expectations ever since the
-107-
professor's little lecture, but his natural chagrin was
quickly forgotten in a matter of far greater interest.
Professor Featherwit had resumed his
scrutiny of yonder body of water, slowly turning his glasses while
holding the air-ship on a true course and even keel.
For a brief space nothing interfered
with the steady motion of the field-glasses, but then something
called for a more thorough examination, and little by little the
savant leaned farther forward, breath coming more rapidly, face
beginning to flush with deepening interest.
Bruno took note of all this, and,
failing to see aught to account for the symptoms with unaided eyes,
at length ventured to speak.
"What is it, uncle Phaeton?
Something of interest, or your looks -- "
Professor Featherwit gave a start,
then lowered the glasses and reached them towards his nephew,
speaking hurriedly:
"You try them, Bruno; your eyes
are younger, and ought to be keener than mine. Yonder; towards the
lower end of the -- the lake, please."
Nothing loath, Gillespie complied,
quickly finding the correct point upon which the professor's interest
-108-
had centred, holding the glasses motionless for a brief space,
then giving vent to an eager ejaculation.
"What is it all about, bless
you, boy?" demanded Waldo, unable longer to curb his hot
impatience. "Another drifting tree, eh?"
"No, but, -- did you see it,
uncle?"
"I saw something which -- what
do you see, first?"
"A great big suck, -- a monster
whirlpool which is hollowed like -- "
"I knew it! I felt that must be
the true solution of it all!" cried uncle Phaeton, squirming
about pretty much as one might into whose veins had been injected
quicksilver in place of ordinary blood. "The outlet! Where the
surplus waters drain off to the Pacific Ocean!"
"I say, give me a chance, can't
you?" interrupted Waldo, grasping the glasses and shifting his
station for one more favourable as a lookout.
He had seen sufficient to catch the
right angle, and then gave a suppressed snort as he took in the view.
Half a minute thus, then a wild cry escaped his lips, closely
followed by the words:
"Now I dosee something!
And it isn't a drifting tree, either! Or, that is, something else
which -- shove her closer, uncle Phaeton! True as you
-109-
live, there's something caught in yonder big suck which is --
closer, for love of glory!"
"If this is another joke, Waldo
-- "
"No, no, I tell you, Bruno!
Shove her over, uncle, for, without this glass is hoodooed, we're
needed right yonder, -- and needed mighty bad, too!"
Little need of so much urging, by
the way, since Professor Featherwit was but slightly less excited by
their double discovery, and even before the glasses were clapped to
Waldo's eyes the aerostat swung around to move at full speed towards
that precise quarter of the compass.
"What is it you see, then,
boy?" demanded Bruno, itching to take the glasses, yet straining
his own vision towards that as yet far-distant spot.
"Something like -- oh, see how
the water is running out, -- just like emptying a bathtub through a
hole at the bottom! And see what -- a man caught in the whirl, true's
you're a foot high, uncle!"
"A man? Here? Impossible, --
incredible, boy!" fairly exploded the professor, not yet ready
to relinquish his cherished belief in a terra incognita.
The air-voyagers were swiftly
nearing that point of interest, and now keen-eyed Bruno caught a
glimpse of a drifting object which had been drawn
-110-
within the influence of yonder whirlpool, but which was just
as certainly a derelict from the forest.
"Another floating tree-trunk
for Waldo!" he cried, with a short laugh, feeling far from
unpleased that the intense strain upon his nerves should be thus
lessened. "Try it again, lad, and perhaps -- "
"Try your great-grandmother's
cotton nightcap! Don't you suppose I can tell the difference between
a tree and a -- "
"Ranting, prancing, cavorting
`sour-us' right out of Webster's Unabridged, eh, laddy-buck?"
"That's all right, if you can
only keep on thinking that way, old man; but if yonder isn't a fellow
being in a mighty nasty pickle, then I wouldn't even begin to say so!
And -- you look, uncle Phaeton, please."
Nothing loath, the professor took
the proffered glasses, and but an instant later he, too, gave a sharp
cry of amazement, for he saw, clinging to the trunk of a floating
tree, swiftly moving with those circling waters, a living being!
And but a few seconds later, Bruno
made the same discovery, greatly to the delight of his younger
brother.
"A man! And living, too!"
"Of course; reckon I'd make
such a howl about a floater?" bluntly interjected Waldo. "But
I'll do
-111-
my crowing later on. For now we've got to get the poor fellow
out of that, -- just got to yank him out!"
Through all this hasty interchange
of words, the aeromotor was swiftly progressing, and now swung almost
directly above the whirlpool, giving all a fair, unobstructed view of
everything below.
The suction was so great that a
sloping basin was formed, more than one hundred yards in diameter,
while the actual centre lay a number of feet lower than the
surrounding level.
Half-way down that perilous slope a
great tree was revolving, and to this, as his forlorn hope, clung a
half-clad man, plainly alive, since he was looking upward, and --
yes, waving a hand and uttering a cry for aid and succour.
"Help! For love of God, save
me!"
"White, -- an American, too!"
exploded Waldo, taking action as by brilliant inspiration. "Hang
over him, uncle, for I'm going -- to go fishing -- for a man!"
Waldo was tugging at the grapnel and
long drag-rope. Bruno was quick to divine his intention, and lent a
deft hand, while the professor manipulated the helm so adroitly as to
keep the flying-machine hovering directly above yonder imperilled
stranger, leaning far over the hand-rail to shout downward:
-112-
"Have courage, sir, and stand
ready to help yourself! We will rescue you if it lies within the
possibilities of -- we will save you!"
"You bet we just will, and
right -- like this," spluttered Waldo, as he cast the grapnel
over the rail and swiftly lowered it by the rope. "Play you're a
fish, stranger, and when you bite, hang on like grim death to a --
steady, now!"
Fortunately nothing occurred to mar
the programme so hastily arranged, for the drift was drawing nearer
the centre of the whirl, and if once fairly caught by that, nothing
human could preserve the stranger from death.
"Make a jump and grab it, if
you can't do better!" cried Waldo, intensely excited now that
the crisis was at hand.
The long rope with its iron weight
swayed awkwardly in spite of all he could do to steady it, and as
each one of the three prongs was meant for catching and holding fast
to whatever they touched, there was no slight risk of impaling the
man, thus giving him the choice of another and still more painful
death.
Then, with a desperate grasp, a
death-clutch, he caught one arm of the grapnel, holding fast as the
shock came. He was carried clear of the tree, and
-113-
partly submerged in the water as his added weight brought the
flying-machine so much lower.
"Up, up, uncle Phaeton!"
fairly howled Waldo, at the same time tugging at the now taut rope,
in which he was ably seconded by his brother. "For love of --
higher, uncle!"
Then the noble machine responded to
the touch of its builder, lifting the dripping stranger clear of the
whirling currents, swinging him away towards yonder higher level,
where a fall would not prove so quickly fatal. And then the eager
professor gave a shrill cheer as he saw the man, by a vigorous
effort, draw his body upward sufficiently far to throw one leg over
an arm of the grapnel itself.
Knowing now that the rescued was in
no especial peril, uncle Phaeton left the air-ship to steer itself
long enough for his nimble hands to take several turns of the
drag-rope around the cleat provided for that express purpose, thus
relieving both Bruno and Waldo of the heavy strain, which might soon
begin to tell upon them.
"Hurrah for we, us, and
company!" cried Waldo, relieving his lungs of a portion of their
pent-up energy, then leaning perilously far over the edge of the
machine to encourage the queer fish he had hooked.
-114-
Chapter 10
CHAPTER X.
RESCUED AND RESCUERS.
DESPITE their very natural
excitement, caused by this peril and its foiling, Professor
Featherwit retained nearly all his customary coolness and presence of
mind.
Readily realising that after such a grim ordeal would almost certainly come a powerful revulsion, his first aim was to swing the stranger far enough away from the whirlpool to give him a fair chance for life, in case he should fall, through dizziness or physical collapse, from the end of the drag-rope.
This took but a few seconds, comparatively speaking, though, doubtless, each moment seemed an age to the rescued stranger. Then the professor slowed his ship, looking around in order to determine upon the wisest route to take.
For one thing, it would be severe work to draw the stranger bodily up and into the aerostat. For another, unless he should grow weak, or suffer from
-115-
vertigo, both time and labour would be saved by taking him
direct to the shore of this broad lake.
As soon as the rope was made fast,
and the strain taken off their muscles as well as their minds, Bruno
flashed a look around, naturally turning his eyes in the direction of
the whirlpool.
Although less than a couple of
minutes had elapsed since the man was lifted off the circling drift,
even thus quickly had the end drawn nigh; for, even as he looked that
way, Gillespie saw the great trunk sucked into the hidden sink, the
top rising with a shiver clear out of the water as the butt lowered,
a hollow, rumbling sound coming to all ears as --
"Gone!" cried Bruno, in
awed tones, as the whole drift vanished from sight for ever.
"Sucked in by Jonah's whale,
for ducats!" screamed Waldo, excitedly. "Fetch on your
blessed `sour-us' of both the male and female sect! Trot 'em to the
fore, and if my little old suck don't take the starch out of their
backbones, -- they did have backbones, didn't they, uncle
Phaeton?"
Professor Featherwit frowned, and
shook his head in silent reproof. More nearly, perhaps, than either
of the boys, he realised what an awful peril this
-116-
stranger had so narrowly escaped. It was far too early to turn
that escape into jest, even for one naturally light of heart.
He leaned over the hand-rail,
peering downward. He could see the rescued man sitting firmly in the
bend of the grapnel, one hand tightly gripping the rope, its mate
shading his eyes, as he stared fixedly towards the whirling
death-pool, from whose jaws he had so miraculously been plucked.
There was naught of debility, either
of body or of mind, to be read in that figure, and with his fears on
that particular point set at rest, for the time being, Professor
Featherwit called out, distinctly:
"Is it all well with you, my
good friend? Can you hold fast until the shore is reached, think?"
"Heaven bless you, -- yes!"
came the reply, in half-choked tones. "If I fail in giving
thanks -- "
"Never mention it, friend; it
cost us nothing," cheerily interrupted the professor, then
adding, "Hold fast, please, and we'll put on a wee bit more
steam."
The flying-machine was now fairly
headed for a strip of shore which offered an excellent opportunity
for making a safe landing, and as that accelerated motion did not
appear to materially affect the stranger, it took but a few minutes
to clear the lake.
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"Stand ready to let go when we
come low enough, please," warned the professor, deftly managing
his pet machine for that purpose.
The stranger easily landed, then
watched the flying-machine with painfully eager gaze, hands clasped
almost as though in prayer. A more remarkable sight than this
half-naked shape, burned brown by the sun, poorly protected by light
skins, with sinew fastenings, could scarcely be imagined; and there
was something close akin to tears in more eyes than one when he came
running in chase, arms outstretched, and voice wildly appealing:
"Oh, come back! Take me, --
don't leave me, -- for love of God and humanity, don't leave me to
this living death!"
Professor Featherwit called back a
hasty assurance, and brought the air-ship to a landing with greater
haste than was exactly prudent, all things considered; but who could
keep cool blood and unmoved heart, with yonder piteous object before
their eyes?
When he saw that the flying-machine
had fairly landed, and beheld its inmates stepping forth upon the
sands with friendly salutations, the rescued stranger staggered,
hands clasping his temples for a moment of drunken reeling, then he
fell
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forward like one smitten by the hand of sudden death.
Professor Featherwit called out a
few curt directions, which were promptly obeyed by his nephews, and
after a few minutes' well-directed work consciousness was restored,
and the stranger feebly strove to give them thanks.
In vain these were set aside. He
seemed like one half-insane from joy, and none who saw and heard
could think that all this emotion arose from the simple rescue from
the whirlpool. Nor did it.
Wildly, far from coherently, the
poor fellow spoke, yet something of the awful truth was to be gleaned
even from those broken, disjointed sentences.
For ten years an exile in these
horrible wilds. For ten years not a single glimpse of white face or
figure. For ten ages no intelligible voice, save his own; and that,
through long disuse, had threatened to desert him!
"Ten years!" echoed Waldo,
in amazement. "Why didn't you rack out o' this, then? I know I
would; even if the woods were full of -- `sour-us' and the like o'
that! Yes, sir!"
A low, husky laugh came through
those heavily bearded lips, and the stranger flung out his hands in a
sweeping gesture, sunken eyes glowing with
-119-
an almost savage light as he spoke with more coherence:
"Why is it, young gentleman?
Why did I not leave, do you ask? Look! All about you it stretches: a
cell, -- a death-cell, from which escape is impossible! Here I have
fought for what is ever more precious than bare life: for liberty;
but though ten awful years have rolled by, here I remain, in worse
than prison! Escape? Ah, how often have I attempted to escape, only
to fail, because escape from these wilds is beyond the power of any
person not gifted with wings!"
"Ten years, you say, good
friend? And all that time you have lived here alone?" asked the
professor, curiously.
"Ten years, -- ten thousand
years, I could almost swear, only for keeping the record so
carefully, so religiously. And -- pitiful Lord! How gladly would I
have given my good right arm, just for one faraway glimpse of
civilisation! How often -- but I am wearying you, gentlemen, and you
may -- pray don't think that I am crazy; you will not?"
Both the professor and Bruno assured
him to the contrary, but Waldo was less affected, and his curiosity
could no longer be kept within bounds. Gently tapping one hairy arm,
he spoke:
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"I say, friend, what were you
doing out yonder in the big suck? Didn't you know the fun was hardly
equal to the risk, sir?"
"Easy, lad," reproved the
professor; but with a a smile, which strangely softened that haggard,
weather-worn visage, the stranger spoke:
"Nay, kind sir, do not check
the young gentleman. If you could only realise how sweet it is to my
poor ears, -- the sound of a friendly voice! For so many weary years
I have never heard one word from human lips which I could understand
or make answer to. And now, -- what is it you wish to know, my dear
boy?"
"Well, since you've lived here
so long, surely you hadn't ought to get caught in such a nasty
pickle; unless it was through accident?"
"It was partly accidental. One
that would have cost me dearly had not you come to my aid so
opportunely. And yet, -- only for one thing, I could scarcely have
regretted vanishing for ever down that suck!"
His voice choked, his head bowed,
his hands came together in a nervous grip, all betokening unusual
agitation. Even Waldo was just a bit awed, and the stranger was first
to break that silence with words.
"How did the mishap come about,
is it, young
-121-
gentleman?" he said, a wan smile creeping into his face,
and relaxing those tensely drawn muscles once more. "While I was
trying to replenish my stock of provisions, and after this fashion,
good friends.
"I was fishing from a small
canoe, and as the bait was not taken well, I must have fallen into a
day dream, thinking of -- no matter, now. And during that dreaming,
the breeze must have blown me well out into the lake, for when I was
roused up by a sharp jerk at my line, I found myself near its middle,
without knowing just how I came there.
"I have no idea what sort of
fish had taken my bait, -- there are many enormous ones in the lake,
-- but it proved far too powerful for me to manage, and dragged the
canoe swiftly through the water, heading directly for the outlet,
yonder."
"Why didn't you let it go free,
then?"
"The line was fastened to the
prow, and I could not loosen it in time. I drew my knife, -- one of
flint, but keen enough to serve, -- only to have it jerked out of my
hand and into the water. Then, just as the fish must have plunged
into the suck, I abandoned my canoe, jumping overboard."
"That's just what I was
wondering about," declared Waldo, with a vigorous nod of his
head. "Yet we found you -- there?"
-122-
"Because I am a wretchedly poor
swimmer. I managed to reach a drift which had not yet fairly entered
the whirl, but I could do nothing more. towards saving myself. Then
-- you can guess the rest, gentlemen."
"And the canoe?" demanded
Waldo, content only when all points were made manifest.
"I saw it dragged down the
centre of the suck," with an involuntary shiver. "The fish
must have plunged into the underground river, whether willingly or
not I can only surmise. But all the while I was drifting yonder,
around and around, with each circuit drawing closer to the awful end,
I could not help picturing to myself how the canoe must have plunged
down, and down, and -- burr-r-r!"
A shuddering shiver which was more
eloquent than words; but Waldo was not yet wholly content, finding an
absorbing interest in that particular subject.
"You call it a river: how do
you know it's a river?"
"Of course, I can only guess at
the facts, my dear boy," the stranger made reply, smiling once
more, and, with an almost timid gesture, extending one hairy paw to
lightly touch and gently stroke the arm nearest him.
-123-
Bruno turned away abruptly, for that
gesture, so simple in itself, yet so full of pathos to one who bore
in mind those long years of solitary exile, brought a moisture to his
big brown eyes of which, boy-like, he felt ashamed.
Professor Featherwit likewise took
note, and with greater presence of mind came to the rescue, lightly
resting a hand upon the stranger's half-bare shoulder while
addressing his words to the youngster.
A tremulous sigh escaped those
bearded lips, and their owner drew closer to the wiry little
aeronaut, plainly drawing great comfort from that mere contact. And
with like ease uncle Phaeton lifted one of those hairy arms to rest
it over his own shoulders, speaking briskly the while.
"There is only one way of
demonstrating the truth more clearly, my youthful inquisitor, and
that is by sending you on a voyage of exploration. Are you willing to
make the attempt, Waldo?"
"Not this evening; some other
evening, -- maybe!" drawing back a bit, with a shake of his
curly pate to match. "But, I say, uncle Phaeton -- "
"Allow me to complete my say,
first, dear boy," with a bland smile. "That is easily done,
though, for it merely consists of this: yonder sink, or whirlpool, is
certainly the method this lake has of relieving
-124-
itself of all surplus water. Everything points to a
subterranean river which connects this lake with the Pacific Ocean."
"Wonder how long I'd have to
hold my breath to make the trip?"
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Chapter 11
CHAPTER XI.
ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR
THE PROFESSOR.
THE stranger laughed aloud at this,
then seemed surprised that aught of mirth could be awakened where
grief and despair had so long reigned supreme.
"You will come with me to -- to my den, gentlemen?" he asked, still nervous, and plainly loath to do aught which indicated a return to his recent dreary method of living.
"Is the distance great?" asked Professor Featherwit, with a glance towards the aeromotor, then flashing his gaze further, as though to guard against possible harm coming to that valuable piece of property.
More than ever to be guarded now, since the words spoken by this exile. Better death in yonder mighty whirlpool than a half-score years' imprisonment here!
Not so very far, he was assured, while it would be comparatively easy to float the air-ship above the trees, there of no extraordinary growth.
-126-
At the same time this assurance was
given, the stranger could not mask his uneasiness of mind, and it was
really pitiful to see one so strong in body and limb, so weak
otherwise.
But uncle Phaeton was a fairly keen
judge of human nature, and possessed no small degree of tact.
Divining the real cause of that dread, he took the easiest method of
allaying it, speaking briskly as he moved across to the aerostat.
"Beer the gentleman company, my
lads, while I manage the ship. You will know what signals to make,
and I can contrive the rest."
Again the recluse laughed, but now
it was through pure joy, such as he had not experienced for long
years gone by. He was not to be deserted by his rescuers from the
whirlpool, and that was comfort enough for the moment.
Thanks to that guidance, but little
time was cut to waste, Professor Featherwit taking the flying-machine
away from the shore of the lake, floating slowly above the tree-tops,
guiding his movements by those below, finally effecting a safe
landing in a miniature glade, at no great distance from the "den"
alluded to by their new-found friend.
"It will be perfectly safe
here," the exile hastened to give assurance, as that landing was
made. "Then,
-127-
too, this is the only spot nigh at hand from which a hasty
ascent could well be made, even with such an admirable machine as
yours. Ah, me!" with a long breath which lacked but little of
being a sigh, as he keenly, eagerly examined the aerostat. "A
marvel! Who would have dared predict such another, only a dozen years
ago? I thought we had drawn very close to perfection while I was in
the profession, but this, -- marvellous!"
Both words and manner gave the
keen-witted professor a clew to one mystery, and he quickly spoke:
"Then you were familiar with
aerostatics, sir? Your name is -- "
"Edgecombe, -- Cooper
Edgecombe."
"What?" with undisguised
surprise in face as in voice. "Professor Edgecombe, the
celebrated balloonist who was lost so long ago?"
"Ay! lost here in this thrice
accursed wilderness!" passionately cried the exile; then, as
though abashed by his own outburst, he turned away, pausing again
only when at the entrance to his dreary refuge of many years.
"Give the poor fellow his own
way until he has had time to rally, boys," muttered uncle
Phaeton, in lowered tones, before following that lead. "I can
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understand it better, now, and this is -- still is the terra
incognita of which I have dreamed so long!"
That refuge proved to be a large,
fairly dry cavern, the entrance to which was admirably masked by
vines and creepers, while the stony soil just there retained no trace
of footprints to tell dangerous tales.
Mr. Edgecombe vanished, but not for
long. Then, showing a light, formed of fat and twisted wick in a
hollowed bit of hardwood, he begged his rescuers to enter.
No second invitation was needed, for
even the professor felt a powerful curiosity to learn what method had
been followed by this enforced exile; how he had managed to live for
so many weary years.
With only that smoky lamp to shed
light around the place, critical investigation was a matter of time
and painstaking, although a general idea of the cavern was readily
formed.
High overhead arched the rocky roof,
blackened by smoke, and looking more gloomy than nature had intended.
The side walls were likewise irregular, now showing tiny niches and
nooks, then jutting out to form awkward points and elbows, which were
but partially disguised by such articles of wear and daily use as the
exile had collected during the years gone by, or since his occupancy
first began.
-129-
So much the professor took in with
his initial glances, but then he left Waldo and his brother to look
more closely, himself giving thought to the being whom they had so
happily saved from the whirlpool.
"Professor Edgecombe!" he
again exclaimed, grasping those roughened hands to press them
cordially. "I ought to have recognised you at sight, no doubt,
since I have watched your ascents time and time again."
The exile smiled faintly, shaking
his head and giving another sigh.
"Ah, me! 'twas vastly
different, then. I only marvel that you should give me credit when I
lay claim to that name, so long -- it has long faded from the
public's memory, sir."
But uncle Phaeton shook his head,
decidedly.
"No, no, I assure you, my
friend; far from it. Whenever the topic is brought to the front;
whenever aerostatics are discussed, your name and fame are sure to
play a prominent part. And yet, -- you disappeared so long ago, never
being heard of after -- "
"After sailing away upon the
storm for which I had waited and prayed, for so many weary,
heart-sick months!"
-130-
"So the rumour ran, but we all
believed that must be an exaggeration, and not for a long time was
all hope abandoned. Then, more hearts than one felt sore and sad at
thoughts of your untimely fate."
"A fate infinitely worse than
ordinary death such as was credited me," huskily muttered the
exile. "Ten years, -- and ever since I have been here, helpless
to extricate myself, doomed to a living death, which none other can
ever fully realise! Doomed to -- to -- "
His voice choked, and he turned away
to hide his emotions.
Professor Featherwit thoroughly
appreciated the interruption which came through Waldo's lips just at
that moment.
"Oh, I say, -- uncle Phaeton!"
"What is it, lad? Don't meddle
with what doesn't -- "
"Looking can't hurt, can it?
And to think people ever got along with such things as these!"
Waldo was squared before sundry
articles depending from the side wall, and as the professor drew
closer, he, too, displayed a degree of interest which was really
remarkable.
A gaily colored tunic of thickly
quilted cotton was hanging beside an oddly shaped war club, the
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heavier end of which was armed with blades of stone which
gleamed and sparkled even in that dim light. And attached to this
weapon was another, hardly less curious: a knife formed of copper,
with heft and blade all from one piece of metal.
"Here is the rest of the
outfit," said Edgecombe, holding forth a bow and several
feathered arrows with obsidian heads.
Professor Featherwit gave a low,
eager cry as he handled the various articles, both face and manner
betraying intense delight, which found partial vent in words a little
later.
"Wonderful! Marvellous! Superb!
I envy you, sir; I can't help but envy your possession of so
magnificent -- and so well-preserved, too! That is the marvel of
marvels!"
"Well, to be sure, I haven't
used them very much. The bow and arrows I could manage fairly well,
after busy practice. They have saved me from more than one hungry
night. But as for the rest -- "
"You might have worn the -- Is
it a ghost-dance shirt, though?" hesitatingly asked Waldo,
gingerly fingering the wadded tunic.
"Waldo, I'm ashamed of you,
boy!" almost harshly reproved the professor. "Ghost-dance
shirt, indeed! And this one of the most complete -- the
-132-
only perfectly preserved specimen of the ancient Aztec --
pray, my good friend, where did you discover them? Surely there can
be no burial mounds so far above the latitude where that unfortunate
race lived and died?"
Mr. Edgecombe shook his head, with a
puzzled look, then made reply:
"No, sir. I took these all from
an Indian I was forced to kill in order to save my own life. I never
thought -- You are ill, sir?"
"Bless my soul!"
ejaculated the professor, falling back a pace or two, then sitting
down with greater force than grace, all the while gazing upon those
weapons like one in a daze. "Found them -- Indian -- killed him
in order to -- bless my soul!"
Then, with marvellous activity for
one of his age, the professor recovered his footing, mumbling
something about tripping a heel, then resumed his examination of the
curiosities as though he had care for naught beside.
Cooper Edgecombe turned away, and
the professor improved the opportunity by muttering to the brothers:
"Careful, lads. Give the poor
fellow his own way in all things, for he is -- he surely must be --
eh?"
Forefinger covertly tapped forehead,
for there was
-133-
"`I TOOK THESE ALL FROM AN INDIAN.'"
-135-
no time granted for further explanations. Edgecombe turned
again, speaking in hard, even strained tones:
"Fifteen years ago this month,
on the 27th, to be exact, a balloon with two passengers was carried
away on a terrific gale of wind which blew from the southeast. This
happened in Washington Territory. Can you tell me -- has anything
ever been heard of either balloon or its inmates?"
Professor Featherwit shook his head
in negation before saying:
"Not to my knowledge, though
doubtless the prints of the day -- "
Cooper Edgecombe shook both head and
hand with strange impatience.
"No, no. I know they were never
heard from up to ten years ago, but since then -- I am a fool to even
dream of such a thing, and yet, -- only for that faint hope I would
have gone mad long ago!"
Indeed, he looked little less than
insane as it was.
-136-
Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII.
THE STORY OF A
BROKEN LIFE.
THIS was the idea that occurred to
both uncle and nephews, but they had seen and heard enough to excuse
all that, and Professor Featherwit spoke again, in mildly curious
tones:
"Sorry I am unable to give you better tidings, my good friend, but, so far as my knowledge extends, nothing has come to light of recent years. And -- if not a leading question -- were those passengers friends of your own?"
"Only -- merely my -- my wife and little daughter," came the totally unexpected reply, followed by a forced laugh which sounded anything but mirthful.
Uncle Phaeton, intensely chagrined, hastened to apologise for his luckless break, but Cooper Edgecombe cut him short, asking that the matter be let drop for the time being.
"I will talk; I feel that I must tell you all, or lose what few wits I have left," he declared, huskily. "But not right now. It is growing late. You must
-137-
be hungry. I have no very extensive larder, but with my little
will go the gratitude of a man who -- "
His voice choked, and he left the
sentence unfinished, hurrying away to prepare such a meal as his
limited means would permit.
While Edgecombe was kindling a fire
in one corner of the cavern, opening a pile of ashes to extract the
few carefully cherished coals by means of which the wood was to be
fired, uncle and one nephew left the den to look after the
flying-machine and contents.
Bruno remained behind, in obedience
to a hint from the professor, lest the exile should dread desertion,
after all.
"Take these in and open them,
Waldo," said the professor, selecting several cans from the
stock in the locker. "Poor fellow! 'Twill be like a foretaste of
civilisation, just to see and smell, much less taste, the fruit."
"Even if he has turned looney,
eh, uncle Phaeton?"
"Careful, boy! I hardly think
he is just that far gone; but, even if so, what marvel? Think of all
he must have suffered during so many long, dreary years! and -- his
wife and child! I wonder -- I do
-138-
wonder if he really killed -- but that is incredible, simply
and utterly incredible! An Aztec -- here -- alive!"
"Dead, uncle Phaeton,"
corrected Waldo. "Killed the redskin, he said, and I really
reckon he meant it. Why not, pray?"
"But -- an Aztec, boy!"
exclaimed the bewildered savant, unable to pass that point. "The
tunic of quilted cotton, the escaupil! The maquahuitl,
with its blades of grass! The bow and arrows which -- all, all surely
of Aztecan manufacture, yet seemingly fresh and serviceable as though
in use but a month ago! And the race extinct for centuries!"
"Well, unless he's a howling
liar from 'way up the crick, he extincted one of 'em,"
cheerfully commented Waldo, bearing his canned fruit to the cavern.
Professor Featherwit followed
shortly after, finding the exile busy preparing food, looking and
acting far more naturally than he had since his rescue from the
whirlpool. And then, until the evening meal was announced, uncle
Phaeton hovered near those amazing curiosities, now gazing like one
in a waking dream, then gingerly fingering each article in turn, as
though hoping to find a solution for his enigma through the sense of
touch.
Taken all in all, that was far from
a pleasant or
-139-
enjoyable meal. A sense of restraint rested upon each one of
that little company, and not one succeeded in fairly breaking it
away, though each tried in turn.
Despite the struggle made by the
exile to hold all emotions well under subjection, Cooper Edgecombe
failed to hide his almost childish delight at sight and taste of
those canned goods, and it did not require much urging on the part of
his rescuers to ensure his partaking freely.
But the cap-sheaf came when uncle
Phaeton, true to his habit of long years, after eating, produced pipe
and pouch, the fragrant tobacco catching the exile's nostrils and
drawing a low, tremulous cry from his lips.
No need to ask what was the matter,
for that eager gaze, those quivering fingers, were enough. And just
as though this had been his express purpose, the professor passed the
pipe over, quietly speaking:
"Perhaps you would like a
little smoke after your supper, my good friend? Oblige me by -- "
"May I? Oh, sir, may I --
really taste -- oh, oh, oh!"
Bruno struck a match and steadied
the pipe until the tobacco was fairly ignited, then drew back and
-140-
left the exile to himself for the time being. And, as covert
glances told them, never before had their eyes rested upon mortal
being so intensely happy as was the long-lost aeronaut then and
there.
At a sign from the professor, Bruno
and Waldo silently arose and left the cavern, bearing their guardian
company to where the air-ship was resting. And there they busied
themselves with making preparations for the night, which was just
settling over that portion of the earth.
Presently Cooper Edgecombe appeared,
the empty pipe in hand, held as one might caress an inestimable
treasure, a dreamy, almost blissful expression upon his sun-browned
face.
"I thank you, sir, more than
tongue can tell," he said, quietly, as he restored the pipe to
its owner. "If you could only realise what I have suffered
through this deprivation! I, an inveterate smoker; yet suddenly
deprived of it, and so kept for ten long years! If I had had a pipe
and tobacco, I believe -- but enough."
"I can sympathise with you, at
least in part, my friend. Will you have another smoke, by the way?"
"No, no, not now; I feel
blessed for the moment, and more might be worse than none, after so
long
-141-
deprivation. And -- may I talk openly to you, dear, kind
friends? May I tell you -- am I selfish in wishing to trouble you
thus? Ten years, remember, and not a soul to speak with!"
He laughed, but it was a sorry
mirth; and not caring to trust his tongue just then, uncle Phaeton
nodded his head emphatically while filling his pipe for himself. But
Waldo never lacked for words, and spoke out:
"That's all right, sir; we can
listen as long as you can chin-chin. Tell us all about -- well,
what's the matter with that big Injun?"
"Quiet, Waldo. Say what best
pleases you, my friend. You can be sure of one thing, -- sympathetic
listeners, if nothing better."
With a curious shiver, as though
afflicted with a sudden chill, Edgecombe turned partly away, figure
drawn rigidly erect, hands tightly clasped behind his back. A brief
silence, then he spoke in tones of forced composure.
"A balloon was the best, in my
day, and I was proud of my profession, although even then I was
dreaming of better things -- of something akin to this marvellous
creation of yours, sir," casting a fleeting glance at the
air-ship, then at the face of its builder, afterward resuming his
former attitude.
-142-
"Let that pass, though. I
wanted to tell you how I met with my awful loss; how I came to be out
here in this modern hell!
"I had a wife, a daughter, each
of whom felt almost as powerful an interest in aerostatics as I did
myself. And one day -- but, wait!
"I had an enemy, too; one who
had, years before, sought to win my love for his own; in vain, the
cur! And that day -- we were out here in Washington Territory, living
in comparative solitude that I might the better study out the theory
I was slowly shaping in my brain.
"The day was beautiful, but
almost oppressively warm, and, as they so frequently wished, I let my
dear ones up in the balloon, securely fastening it below. And then --
God forgive me! -- I went back to town for something; I forget just
what, now.
"A sudden storm came up. I
hurried homeward; home to me was wherever my dear ones chanced to be;
but I was just too late! That devil of all devils was ahead of me,
and I saw him -- merciful God! I saw him -- cut the ropes and let the
balloon dart away upon that awful gale!"
His voice choked, and for a few
minutes silence reigned. Knowing how vain must be any attempt to
-143-
offer consolation, the trio of air-voyagers said nothing, and
presently Cooper Edgecombe spoke.
"I killed the demon. I nearly
tore him limb from limb; I would have done just that, only for those
who came hurrying after me from town, knowing that I might need help
in bringing my balloon to earth in safety. They dragged me away, but
'twas too late to cheat my miserable vengeance. That hound was dead,
but -- my darlings were gone, for ever!"
Another pause, then quieter, more
coherent speech.
"God alone knows whither my
wife and child were taken. The general drift was in this direction,
but how far they were carried, or how long they may have lived, I can
only guess; enough that, despite all my inquiries, made far and wide
in every direction, I never heard aught of either balloon or
passengers!
"After that, I had but one
object in life: to follow along the track of that storm, and either
find my loved ones, or -- or some clew which should for ever solve my
awful doubts! And for two long years or more I fought to pierce these
horrid fastnesses, -- all in vain. No mortal man could succeed, even
when urged on by such a motive as mine.
"Then I determined upon another
course. I
-144-
worked and slaved until I could procure another balloon, as
nearly like the one I lost as might be constructed. Then I watched
and waited for just such another storm as the one upon whose wings my
darlings were borne away, meaning to take the same course, and so
find -- "
"Why, man, dear, you must have
been insane!" impulsively cried the professor, unable longer to
control his tongue.
"Perhaps I was; little wonder
if so," admitted Edgecombe, turning that way, with a wan smile
lighting up his visage. "I could no longer reason. I could only
act. I had but that one grim hope, to eventually discover what time
and exposure to the weather might have left of my lost loves.
"Then, after so long waiting,
the storm came, blowing in the same direction as that other. I cut my
balloon loose, and let it drift. I looked and waited, hoping,
longing, yet -- failing! I was wrecked, here in this wilderness. My
balloon was carried away. I failed to find -- aught!"
Cooper Edgecombe turned towards the
air-ship, with a sigh of regret.
"If one had something like this
then, I might have found them, -- even alive! But now -- too late --
eternally too late!"
-145-
Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LOST CITY OF
THE AZTECS.
UNCLE PHAETON was more than willing
to do the honours of his pet invention, and this afforded a most
happy diversion, although the deepening twilight hindered any very
extensive examination.
Cooper Edgecombe showed himself in a vastly different light while thus engaged, his shrewd questions, his apt comments, quite effectually removing the far from agreeable doubts born of his earlier words and demeanour.
"Well, if he's looney, it's only on some points, not as the whole porker, anyway," confidentially asserted Waldo, when an opportunity offered. "Coax him to tell how he knocked the redskin out, uncle Phaeton."
Little need of recalling that perplexing incident to the worthy savant, for, try as he might, Featherwit could not keep from brooding over that wondrous collection of relics pertaining to a long-since extinct people. Of course, the last one had perished ages ago; and yet -- and yet --
-146-
Through his half-bewildered brain
flashed the accounts given by the coast tribes, members of which he
had so frequently interviewed concerning this unknown land, one and
all of whom had more or less to say in regard to a strange people,
terrible fighters, mighty hunters, one burning glance from whose eyes
carried death and decay unto all who were foolhardy enough even to
attempt to pass those mighty barriers, built up by a beneficent
nature. Only for that nearly impassable wall, the entire earth would
be overrun and dominated by these monsters in human guise.
Then, after the air-ship was cared
for to the best of his ability, and the night-guard set in place so
that an alarm might give warning of any illegal intrusion, the little
party returned to the cavern home of the exile where, after another
refusal on his part, the professor filled and lighted his beloved
pipe.
Almost in spite of himself
Featherwit was drawn towards those marvellous articles depending from
the wall, and, as he gazed in silent marvel, Cooper Edgecombe drew
nigh, with still other articles to complete the collection.
"You may possibly find
something of interest in these, too, dear sir, although I have given
them rather
-147-
rough usage. This formed a rather comfortable cap, and -- "
"A helmet! And sandals! A sash
which is -- yes! worn about the waist, mainly to support weapons, and
termed a maxtlatl, which -- and all sufficiently well
preserved to be readily recognised as genuine -- unless -- Surely I
am dreaming!"
If not precisely that, the worthy
professor assuredly was almost beside himself while examining these
articles of warrior's wear, one by one, knowing that neither eyes nor
memory were at fault, yet still unable to believe those very senses.
Up to this, Cooper Edgecombe had
felt but a passing interest in the matter, forming as it did but a
single incident in a more than ordinarily eventful life; but now he
began to divine at least a portion of the truth, and his face was
lighted up with unusual animation, when Phaeton Featherwit turned
that way, to almost sharply demand:
"Where did you gain possession
of these weapons and garments, sir? And how, -- from whom?"
"I took them from an Indian,
nearly two years ago. He caught me off my guard, and, when I saw that
I could neither hide nor flee, I fought for my life," explained
the exile; then giving a short, bitter laugh, to add: "Strange,
is it not? Although I had
-148-
long since grown weary of existence such as this, I fought for
it; I turned wild beast, as it were! Then, after all was over, I took
these things, more because I feared his comrades might suspect -- "
"His comrades?" echoed the
professor. "More than the one, then? You killed him, but --
there were others, still?"
"Many of them; far too many for
any one man to withstand," earnestly declared the exile. "I
made all haste in bearing the redskin here, obliterating all signs as
quickly as possible; yet for days and nights I cowered here in utter
darkness, each minute expecting an attack from too powerful a force
for standing against."
Uncle Phaeton rubbed his hands
briskly, shifting his weight hurriedly from one foot to its mate,
then back again, the very personification of eager interest and
growing conviction.
"More of them? A strong force?
Armed, -- and garbed as of old? The clothing, the footwear, and,
above all else, the weapons, purely Aztecan? And here, only two short
years ago?"
"Sadly long and hideously
dreary years I have found them, sir," the exile said, in
dejected tones.
The professor burst into a shrill,
excited laugh, which sounded almost hysterical, and, not a little to
-149-
the amazement of his nephews, broke into a regular dance,
jigging it right merrily, hands on hips, head perked, and chin in
air, at the same time striving to carry the tune in his far from
melodious voice.
After all, perhaps no better method
could have been taken to work off his almost hysterical excitement,
and presently he paused, panting and heated, chuckling after an
abashed fashion as he encountered the eyes of his nephews.
"Not a word, my dear boys,"
he hastened to plead. "I had to do something or -- or explode! I
feel better, now. I can behave myself, I hope. I am calm, cool, and
composed as -- the genuine Aztecs! And we are the ones to discover
that -- oh, I forgot!"
For Waldo was fairly exploding with
mirth, while Bruno smiled, and even the exile appeared to be amused
to a certain extent at his expense.
Little by little, the worthy savant
calmed down, and then, almost forcing the exile to indulge in another
delicious smoke, he led up to the subject in which his interest was
fairly intense.
Cooper Edgecombe was willing enough
to tell all that lay in his power, although he was only beginning to
realise how much that might mean to the world at large, judging by
the actions of the professor.
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According to his account, the great
lake, or drainage reservoir of the Olympics, was a sort of
semi-yearly rendezvous for a warlike tribe of red men, where they
congregated for the purpose of catching and drying vast quantities of
fish, doubtless to be used during the winter.
"As a general thing they pitch
their camp on the other side, over towards the northeast; but small
parties are pretty sure to rove far and wide, coming around this way
quite as often as not."
"And their garb, -- the weapons
they bore?" asked the professor.
Edgecombe motioned towards those
articles in which such a lively interest had been awakened, then said
that, while few of the red men who had come beneath his near
observation had been so elaborately equipped, he had taken notice of
similar weapons and garments, with additions which he strove hard to
describe with accuracy.
Nearly every sentence which crossed
his lips served to confirm the marvellous truth which had so
dazzlingly burst upon the professor's eager brain, and with a glib
tongue he named each weapon, each garment, as accurately as ever set
down in ancient history, not a little to the wide-eyed amazement of
Waldo Gillespie.
-151-
"Worse than those blessed
`sour-us' and cousins," he confided to his brother, in a
whisper. "Reckon it's all right, Bruno? Uncle isn't -- eh?"
But uncle Phaeton paid them no
attention, so deeply was he stirred by this wondrous revelation. He
felt that he was upon the verge of a discovery which would startle
the wide world as no recent announcement had been able to do, unless
-- but it surely must be correct!
And then, when Cooper Edgecombe
finished all he could tell concerning those queerly armed and gaudily
garbed red men, the professor let loose his tongue, telling what
glorious hopes and dazzling anticipations were now within him.
"For hundreds upon hundreds of
years there have been wild, weird legends about the Lost City, but
that merely meant a mass of wondrous ruins, long since overwhelmed by
shifting sands, somewhere in the heart of the great American desert,
so-called.
"By some it was claimed that
this ancient city owed its primal existence to a fragment of the
Aztecs, driven from their native quarters in Old Mexico. By others
'twas attributed unto one of the fabulous `Lost Tribes of Israel,'
but even the most enthusiastic never for one moment dreamed of --
this!"
"Except yourself, uncle
Phaeton," cut in Waldo,
-152-
with a subdued grin. "This must be one of the marvels you
calculated on discovering, thanks to the flying-machine, eh?"
"Nay, my boy; I never let my
imagination soar half so high as all that," quickly answered the
professor. "But now -- now I feel confident that just such a
discovery lies before us, and with the dawn of a new day we will
ascend and look for the glorious `Lost City of the Aztecs!' "
Again the savant sprang to his feet,
wildly gesticulating as he strode to and fro, striving to thus work
off some of the intense excitement which had taken full possession.
And words fell rapidly from his lips the while, only a portion of
which need be placed upon record in this connection, however.
"A fico for the paltry lost
cities of musty tradition, now! They may sleep beneath the
sand-storms of countless years, but this -- I would gladly give one
of my eyes for the certainty that its mate might gaze upon such a
wondrous spectacle as -- Oh, if it might only prove true! If I might
only discover such a stupendous treasure! Aztecs! And in the present
day! Alive -- armed and garbed as of yore! Amazing! Incredible!
Astounding beyond the wildest dreams of a confirmed -- "
With startling swiftness uncle
Phaeton wheeled to
-153-
confront the exile, gripping his arm with fierce vigour, as he
shrilly demanded:
"Opium -- are you an eater of
drugs, Cooper Edgecombe?"
Even as the words crossed his lips,
the professor realised how preposterous they must sound, but the
exile shook his head, earnestly.
"I never ate drugs in that
shape, sir. Even if I had been addicted to morphine and the like, how
could I indulge the appetite here, in these gloomy, lonely wilds?"
"I beg your pardon, sir; most
humbly I implore your forgiveness. I have but one excuse -- this
wondrous -- Good night! I'm going to bed before I add to my new
reputation as -- a blessed idiot, no less!"
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Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV.
A MARVELLOUS VISION.
BUT the night was considerably older
ere any one of that quartette lost himself in slumber, for all had
been too thoroughly wrought up by the exciting events of the past day
for sleep to claim an easy subject.
By common consent, however, that one particular subject was barred for the present, and then, sitting in a cosy group about the glowing fire there in the cavern, the recently formed friends talked and chatted, asking and answering questions almost past counting.
Little wonder that such should be the case, so far as Cooper Edgecombe was concerned, since he had been lost to the busy world and its many changes for a long decade.
Then, too, his own dreary existence held a strange charm for the air-voyagers, and the exile grew wonderfully cheerful and bright-eyed as he in part depicted his struggles to sustain life against such heavy
-155-
odds, and still strove to keep alive that one hope, -- that
even yet he might be able to discover a clew to his loved and lost
ones.
"Not alive; I have long since
abandoned that faint hope. But if I might only find something to make
sure, something that I could pray over, then bury where my heart
could hover above -- "
"You are still alive, good
friend, yet you have spent long years out here in the wilderness,"
gently suggested the professor.
Edgecombe flinched, as one might
when a rude hand touches a still raw wound.
"But they, my wife, my baby
girl, -- they could never have lived as I have existed. They surely
must have perished; if not at once, then when the first cruel storms
of hideous winter came howling down from the far north!"
"Unless they were found and
rescued by -- who knows, my good sir?" forcing a cheerful smile,
which, unfortunately, was only surface-born, as the exile lifted his
head with a start and a gasping ejaculation. "Since it seems
fairly well proven that this supposedly unknown land is actually
inhabited, why may your loved ones not have been rescued?"
"The Indians? You mean by the
Aztecs, sir?"
"If Aztecans they should really
prove; why not?"
-156-
"But, surely I have heard --
sacrifices?" huskily breathed the greatly agitated man, while
the professor, realising how he was making a bad matter worse,
brazenly falsified the records, declaring that no human sacrifices
had ever stained the record of that noble, honourable, gallant race;
and then changed the subject as quickly as might be.
Nevertheless, there was one good
effect following that talk. Cooper Edgecombe had dreaded nothing so
much as the fear of being left behind by these, the first white
people he had seen for what seemed more than an ordinary lifetime;
but now, when the professor hinted at a longing to take a spin
through ether, for the purpose of winning a wider view, he eagerly
seconded that idea, even while realising that it would be difficult
to take him along with the rest.
Still, nothing was definitely
settled that evening, and at a fairly respectable hour before the
turn of night, the air-voyagers were wrapped in their blankets and
soundly slumbering.
Not so the exile. Sleep was far from
his brain, and while he really knew that danger could hardly menace
that wondrous bit of ingenious mechanism, he watched it throughout
that long night, ready to risk his own life in its defence should the
occasion arise.
-157-
Why not, since his whole future
depended upon the aeromotor? By its aid he hoped to reach
civilization once more; and in spite of the great loss which had
wrecked his life, he was thrilled to the centre by that glorious
prospect. Here he was dead while breathing; there he would at least
be in touch with his fellow men once more!
Not a little to his secret delight, the professor heard Edgecombe broach the subject of further explorations, and seeing that his excitement had passed away in goodly measure during the silent watches of the night, he talked with greater freedom.
"Of course we'll keep in touch with you, here, friend, and take no decisive move without your knowledge and consent. Our fate shall be yours, and your fate shall be ours. Only -- I would dearly love to catch a glimpse of -- If there should actually be a Lost City in existence!"
"If there is, as there surely must be one of some description, judging from the number of red men I have seen collecting here at the lake," observed the
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exile, "you certainly ought to make the discovery with
the aid of your air-ship. You can ascend at will, of course, sir?"
Nothing loath, the professor spoke
of his pet and its wondrous capabilities, and then all hands left the
cavern for the outer air, to prepare for action.
As a further assurance, uncle
Phaeton begged Edgecombe to enter the aerostat, then skilfully caused
the vessel to float upward into clear space, sailing out over the
lake even to the whirlpool itself before turning, his passenger
eagerly watching every move and touch of hand, asking questions which
proved him both shrewd and ingenious, from a mechanical point of
view.
Returning to their starting-point,
Edgecombe sprang lightly to earth to make way for the brothers, face
ruddy and eyes aglow as he again begged them all to keep watch for
aught which might solve the mystery yet surrounding the fate of his
loved ones.
The promise was given, together with
an earnest assurance that they would soon return; then the parting
was cut as short as might be, all feeling that such a course was
wisest and kindest, after all.
For an hour or more the air-ship
sped on, high in air, its inmates viewing the various and varying
landmarks beneath and beyond them, all marvelling at
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the fact that such an immense scope of country should for so
long be left in its native virginity, especially where all are so
land-hungry.
Then, as nothing of especial
interest was brought to their notice, uncle Phaeton quite naturally
reverted to that suit of Aztecan armour, and the glorious
possibilities which the words of the exile had opened up to them as
explorers.
Bruno listened with unfeigned
interest, but not so his more mercurial brother, who took advantage
of an opening left by the professor, to bluntly interject:
"What mighty good, even if you
should find it all, uncle Phaeton? You couldn't pick it up and tote
it away, to start a dime museum with. And, as for my part, -- I'll
tell you what! If we could only find something like Aladdin's cave,
now!"
"Growing miserly in your old
age, are you, lad?" mocked his uncle.
"No; I don't mean just that.
His trees were hung with riches, but mine should be -- crammed and
crowded full of plum pudding, fruit cake, angel food, mince pies, and
the like! Yes, and there should be fountains of lemonade! And
mountains of ice-cream! And sandbars of caramels, and chocolate
drops, and trilbies, and -- well, now, what's the matter with you
fellows, anyway?"
-160-
He spoke with boyish indignation at
that laughing outbreak, but the kindly professor quickly managed to
smooth the matter over, although not before Waldo had promised Bruno
a sound thumping the first time they set foot upon land.
Until past the noon hour that
pleasant voyage lasted, without any remarkable discovery being made,
the trio munching a cold lunch at their ease, rather than take the
trouble to effect a landing.
But then, not very long after the
sun had begun his downward course, there came a change which caused
Featherwit's blood to leap through his veins far more rapidly than
usual, for yonder, still a number of miles away, there was gradually
opening to view a hill-surrounded valley of considerable dimension,
certain portions of which betrayed signs of cultivation, or at least
of vegetation different from aught the explorers had as yet come
across since entering that land of wonders.
Almost unwittingly Professor
Featherwit sent the air-ship higher, even as it sped onward at
quickened pace, his face as pale as his eyes were glittering, intense
anticipation holding him spellbound for the time being. And then --
the wondrous truth!
"Behold!" he cried,
shrilly, pointing as he spoke.
-161-
FINDING THE LOST CITY.
-163-
"Houses yonder! Cultivated fields, and -- see! human
beings in motion, who are -- "
"Kicking up a great old
bobbery, just as though they'd sighted us, and wanted to know -- I
say, uncle Phaeton, how would it feel to get punched full of holes by
a parcel of bow-arrows?"
With a quick motion the air-ship was
turned, darting lower and off at a sharp angle to its former course,
for the professor likewise saw what had attracted the notice of his
younger nephew.
Scattered here and there throughout
that secluded valley were human beings, nearly all of whom had sprung
into sudden motion, doubtless amazed or frightened by the appearance
of that oddly shaped air-demon.
Brief though that view had been, it
was sufficiently long to show the professor houses of solid and
substantial shape, cultivated plots, human beings, and a little river
whose clear waters sparkled and flashed in the sunlight.
It was very hard to cut that view so
short, but the professor had not lost all prudence, and he knew that
danger to both vessel and passengers might follow a nearer intrusion
upon the privacy of yonder armed people. Yet his face was fairly
glowing with glad exultation as he brought the aerostat to a lower
strata
-164-
of air, shutting off all view from yonder valley, as it lay
amid its encircling hills.
"Hurrah!" he cried,
snatching off his cap and waving it enthusiastically, as the air-ship
floated onward at ease. "At last! Found -- we've discovered it
at last! And all is true, -- all is true!"
"Found what, uncle Phaeton?"
asked Waldo, a bit doubtfully.
"The Lost City of the Aztecs,
of course! Oh, glad day, glad day!"
"Unless -- what if it should
prove to be only a -- a mirage, uncle Phaeton?" almost timidly
ventured Bruno, a moment later.
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Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV.
ASTOUNDING, YET TRUE.
THE professor gave a great start at
this almost reluctant suggestion, shrinking back with a look which
fell not far short of being horrified. But then he rallied, forcing a
laugh before speaking.
"No, no, Bruno. All conditions are lacking to form the mirage of the desert. And, too; everything was so distinct and clearly outlined that one could -- "
"Fairly feel those blessed bow-arrows tickling a fellow in the short ribs," vigorously declared the younger Gillespie. "Not but that -- I say, uncle Phaeton?"
"What is it now, Waldo?"
"Reckon they're like any other people? Got boys and -- and girls among 'em, I wonder?"
"I daresay, yes, why not?" answered Featherwit, scarcely realising what words were being shaped by his lips, while Bruno broke into a brief-lived laugh, more at that half-sheepish expression than at the query itself.
-166-
"Both boys and girls galore, I
expect, Kid; but you needn't borrow trouble on either score. You can
outrun the lads, while as for the fairer sex, -- well, they'll take
precious good care to keep well beyond your reach, -- especially if
you wear such another fascinating grin as -- "
"Oh, you go to thunder, Bruno
Gillespie!"
Through all this interchange the
air-ship was maintaining a wide sweep, drawing nearer the forest
beneath, if only to keep hidden from the eyes of the strange people
in yonder deep valley. Yet the gaze of Phaeton Featherwit as a rule
kept turned towards that particular point, his eyes on fire, his lips
twitching, his whole demeanour that of one who feels a discovery of
tremendous importance lies just before him.
"Are we going to land, uncle
Phaeton?" queried Bruno, taking note of that preoccupation,
which might easily prove dangerous under existing circumstances.
That question served to recall the
professor to more material points, and, after a keen, sweeping look
around, he nodded assent.
"Yes, as soon as I can discover
or secure a fair chance. I wish to see more -- I must secure a fairer
view of the -- of yonder place."
-167-
"Will it not be too dangerous,
though? Not for us, especially, uncle, but for the aerostat? Even if
these be not the people you imagine -- "
"They are past all doubt a
remnant of the ancient Aztecs. Yonder lies the true Lost City, and we
are -- oh, try to comprehend all that statement means, my lads!
Picture to yourselves what boundless fame and unlimited credit awaits
our report to the outer world! The benighted world! The besotted
world! The -- the -- "
"While we'll form the upsotted
world, or a portion of it, without something is done, -- and that in
a howling hurry, too!" fairly spluttered Waldo, as the again
neglected air-ship sped swiftly towards a more elevated portion of
that earth, part of the tall hill-crest which acted as nature's
barricade to yonder by nature depressed valley.
"Time enough, lad, time enough,
since we are going to land," coolly assured the professor,
deftly manipulating the steering-gear and still curying around those
tree-crowned hills. "If we are really hunted after, 'twill
naturally be in the quarter of our vanishment, while by alighting
around yonder, nearly at right angles with our initial approach, we
will have naught to fear from the -- the Aztecan clans!"
Clearly the professor had settled in
his own mind
-168-
just what lay before them, and nothing short of the Lost City
of the Aztecs would come anywhere near satisfying that exalted ideal.
And, taking all points into full consideration, was there anything so
very absurd in his method of reasoning, or of drawing a deduction?
Still, that exaltation did not
prevent uncle Phaeton from taking all essential precautions, and it
was only when an especially secure landing-place was sighted that he
really attempted to touch the earth.
Fully one-half of that wide circuit
had been made, and as nothing could be detected to give birth to
fears for either self or air-ship, the aeronauts skilfully landed
their vessel with only the slightest of jars. It was a well-screened
location, where naught could be seen of the flying-machine until
close at hand, yet so arranged as to make a hasty flight a very easy
matter should the occasion ever arise.
Not until the landing was effected
and all made secure, did Professor Featherwit speak again. Then it
was with gravely earnest speech which suitably affected his nephews.
"Above all things, my dear
lads, bear ever in mind this one fact, -- we are not here to fight.
We do not come as conquerors, weapons in hand, hearts filled with
lust of blood. To the contrary, we are on a
-169-
peaceful mission, hoping to learn, trusting to enlighten, with
malice towards none, but honest love for all those who may wear the
human shape, be they of our own colour or -- or -- otherwise."
"That's what's the matter with
Hannah's cat!" cheerfully chipped in the irrepressible Waldo. "I
say, uncle Phaeton, is it just a lie-low here until yonder fellows
grow tired of looking for what they can't find, then a flight on our
part; or will we -- "
"Have we voyaged so far and
seen so much, to rest content with so very little?" exclaimed
the professor, hardly as precise of speech as under ordinary
conditions. "No, no, my lads! Yonder lies the greatest discovery
of the nineteenth century, and we are -- Get a hustle on, boys! The
day is waning, and with so much to see, to study, to -- Come, I say!"
In spite of his initial attempt to
impress his nephews with a due sense of the heavy responsibilities
which rested upon them, Phaeton Featherwit was far more excited than
either one of the brothers. Doubtless he more nearly appreciated the
importance of this wondrous discovery, provided his now firm belief
was correct, -- that yonder stood a solid, substantial city, erected
by the hands of a people whom common consent had agreed were long
since wiped out of existence.
-170-
The story told by Cooper Edgecombe,
backed up by the articles taken from the person of the warrior whom
he had slain in self-defence, certainly had its weight; while the
brief and imperfect glimpse which he had won of yonder valley helped
to bear out that astounding belief. And yet, how could it be true?
Really believing, yet forced by more
sober reason to doubt, the poor professor was literally "in a
sweat" long ere another view could be won of the depressed
valley, although the landing of the air-ship was so well chosen as to
make that trip of the briefest duration consistent with prudence.
The natural obstacles were
considerable, however, and as they picked their way along, the
brothers for the first time began to gain a fairly accurate idea of
what was meant by the term, a virgin forest.
To all seeming, the human foot had
never ventured here, nor were any marks or spoor of wild beasts
perceptible on either side.
Although the aerostat had landed not
far below the crest of those hills, the adventurers had to climb
higher, before winning the coveted view, partly because the most
practicable route led down into and along a winding gulch, where the
footing was far less treacherous than upon the higher ground,
cumbered, as that was, with the leaf-mould of centuries.
-171-
Still, half an hour's steady labour
brought the little squad to the coveted point, and once again
Professor Featherwit was almost literally stricken speechless, -- for
there, far below their present location, spread out in level expanse,
lay the secret valley with all its marvels.
Far more extensive than it had
appeared by that initial glimpse, the valley itself seemed composed
of fertile soil, yet, by aid of the river which cut through, near its
centre, irrigating ditches conveyed water to every acre, thus
ensuring bounteous crops of grain and of fruit as well.
Numerous buildings stood in
irregular array, for the most part of no great height, nor with many
pretensions towards architectural beauty or grace of outline; but in
the centre of the valley upreared its head a massive structure,
pyramidal in shape, consisting of five comparatively narrow terraces,
connected one with another only at each of the four corners, where
stood a wide-stepped flight of stones.
"Behold!" huskily gasped
the professor, intensely excited, yet still able to control the
field-glass through which he was eagerly scanning yonder marvels.
"The temple of the gods! And, yonder, the temple of sacrifice,
unless my memory is -- and
-172-
look! The people are -- they wear just such garb as -- Oh,
marvellous! Amazing! Astounding! Incredible -- yet true!"
Although their uncle could thus take
in the various details to better advantage, still the intervening
distance was not so great as to entirely debar the brothers from
finding no little to interest them, as was readily proven by their
various exclamations.
"Just look at the people, will
ye, now? Flopping around like they hadn't any bigger business than to
-- Reckon they're looking for us to come back, Bruno?"
"Or watching for the monster
bird of prey, rather," suggested the elder Gillespie. "Of
course they couldn't distinguish our faces, and our bodies were
fairly well hidden. And, even more, of course, they must be totally
ignorant of all such things as flying-machines and the like."
"Poor, ignorant devils!"
sympathetically sighed the youngster. "Well, we'll have to do a
little missionary work in this quarter, before taking our departure,
eh, uncle Phaeton?"
With a start, Featherwit descended
out of the clouds in which he had been lost ever since winning a fair
view of the secret city; and now, rallying his wits and fairly aglow
with eager interest in
-173-
this marvellous discovery, he began pointing out the various
objects of special importance, naming them with glib assurance, then
reminding the boys how wonderfully similar all was to what had
existed in Old Mexico before the conquest.
Bruno listened with greater interest
than his brother could summon at will. For one thing, he had long
been a lover of the genial Prescott, and, now that his memory was
freshened in part, was able to closely follow the course of that
little lecture, noting each strong point made by the professor in
bolstering up his delightful theory.
That monologue, however, was
abruptly broken in upon by Waldo, who gave an eager exclamation, as
he reached forth a pointing finger:
"Look! There's a white woman
yonder, -- two of 'em, in fact!"
-174-
Chapter 16
CHAPTER XVI.
CAN IT BE TRUE?
THAT announcement came with all the
force of a bolt from the blue, and even the professor dropped his
glasses with a gasp of amazement, while Bruno would have leaped to
his feet, only for the hasty grab which his brother made at the tail
of his coat.
"White -- where? Surely it cannot be that -- Edgecombe -- "
"Augh, take a tumble, boy!" ejaculated Waldo, giving a jerk that rendered compliance nearly literal, though scarcely full of grace. "Want to have the whole gang make a howling break this way? Want to -- They're white all right, though!"
"Where? Which direction? Point them out, and -- I fail to see anything which would bear out your -- "
The professor was sweeping yonder field with his glass, searching for the primal cause of that latest excitement, but without success. No sign of a
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white face, male or female, rewarded his efforts, and he
turned an inquiring gaze upon the youngster.
Waldo was peering from beneath the
shade of his hand, but now drew back with a long breath, to slowly
shake his head.
"They've gone now, but I did
see them, and they were white, just as white as -- as anything!"
Bruno frowned a bit at that
unsatisfactory conclusion, but the professor was of more equable
temper, for a wonder. He smilingly shook his head, while gazing
kindly, then spoke:
"I myself might have made the
same error, Waldo, but you surely were in error, for once."
"What! You mean I never saw
those white women, uncle Phaeton?"
"No, no, I am not so seriously
faulting your eyesight, my dear boy," came the swift assurance.
"But even the best of us are open to errors, and there were in
olden times not a few Aztecs with fair skins; not exactly white, yet
comparatively fair when their race was considered. And, no doubt,
Waldo, you saw just such another a bit ago."
But the youngster was not so easily
shaken in his own opinion.
"There were a couple of 'em,
not just such
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another, uncle. And they were white, -- pure white as ever the
Lord made a woman! And -- why, didn't I see their hair, long and
floating loose? And wasn't that yellow as -- as gold, or the sunshine
itself?"
"Yellow hair?"
"Yes, indeedy! Yellow hair,
white skins, -- faces, anyway. Blondes, the couple of 'em; and to
that I'll make my davy!"
And so the youngster maintained with
even more than usual sturdiness, when questioned more closely,
pointing out the very spot upon which the strange beings were
standing, the top of a large, tall building, clearly one of the
series of temples.
In vain the field-glass was fixed
upon that particular point. The partly roofed azotea was wholly
devoid of human life, and though watch was maintained in that
direction for many minutes thereafter, by one or other of the
air-voyagers, naught was seen to confirm the assertion made by the
younger Gillespie.
For the moment that fact or fancy
dominated all other interests, for, granting that Waldo had not been
misled by a naturally fair Indian face, there was room for a truly
startling inference.
"Could it actually be they?"
muttered Bruno,
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face pale and eyes glittering with intense interest. "Could
they have escaped with life from the balloon, and been here ever
since?"
"You mean -- "
"The wife and child of Cooper
Edgecombe, -- yes! Who else could they be, unless -- I'd give a
pretty penny for one fair squint at them, right now! If there was
only some method of -- It would hardly do to venture down yonder,
uncle Phaeton?"
The professor gave a stern gesture
of denial, frowning as though he anticipated an actual break for
yonder town, in spite of the odds against them.
"That would be madness, Bruno!
Worse than madness, by far! Look at yonder warriors, all thoroughly
armed, and eager to drink blood as ever they were in centuries gone
by! They are hundreds, if not thousands, while we are but three!
Madness, my boy!"
"Four, with Mr. Edgecombe,
uncle."
"And that means a complete host
so long as we are backed up by the air-ship," declared Waldo, in
his turn. "Those fellows!" with a sniff of true boyish
scorn for aught that was not fully up to date. "What could they
do, if we were to open fire on them just once?"
"Prove our equals, man for man,
armed as they
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assuredly are," just as vigorously affirmed the
professor, inclined rather to magnify than diminish the importance of
these, his so recently discovered people. "You forget how the
Aztecans fought Cortez and his mailed hosts. Yet these are one and
identical, so far as valour and training and blood can go."
"Huh! Scared of a runty horse
so badly that they prayed to 'em as they did to their own gods!"
sniffed Waldo, betraying a lore for which he did not ordinarily
receive fair credit. "Why, uncle Phaeton, let you just slam one
o' those dynamite shells inside a chief -- "
"Nay, Waldo, must I repeat, we
are not here for the purpose of conquest, unless by purely amicable
methods. There must be no fighting, for or against. Savages though
most people would be inclined to pronounce yonder race, they are
human, with souls and -- "
"But I always thought they were
heathens, uncle Phaeton?"
The professor subsided at that,
giving over as worse than useless the attempt to enlighten the
irrepressible youngster, at least for the time being.
Silence ruled for some little time,
during which
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each one of the trio kept keen watch over the valley, the
field-glass changing hands at intervals in order to put all upon an
equal footing.
One thing was clear enough unto all:
the Indians had been greatly wrought up by the brief appearance of
some queerly shaped monster of the air, and while a goodly number of
their best warriors had hastened out of the valley and up the
difficult passes, in hopes of learning more, still others were astir,
weapons in hand, evidently determined to defend their lives or their
property from any assault, should such be made, whether by known or
foreign adversaries.
This busy stir and bustle, combined
with the novel architecture and so many varying points of interest,
would have been a mental and visual feast for the trio of
air-voyagers, only for that one doubt: were white captives actually
in yonder temple? And, if white, were they the long-lost relatives of
the aeronaut, Cooper Edgecombe?
Quite naturally the interest
displayed by the Indians centred in the quarter of the heavens where
that air-demon had been sighted, hence our friends saw very little
cause for apprehension on their own parts.
Thus they were given a better
opportunity for thinking of and then discussing the new marvel.
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Again did Waldo vow that his eyes
had not befooled him. Again he positively asserted that he had seen
two white women, wearing blonde hair in loose waves far adown their
backs. And once again Bruno, in half-awed tones, wondered whether or
no they were the mother and child borne away upon the wings of a
mighty storm, fifteen long years gone by.
"It is possible, though
scarcely credible," admitted uncle Phaeton, in grave tones, as
he wrinkled his brows after his peculiar fashion when ill at ease in
his mind. "Edgecombe lived through just such another experience;
though, to be sure, he was a man of iron constitution, while they
were far more delicate, as a matter of course."
"Still, it may have happened
so?" persisted Bruno, taking a strong interest in the matter.
"You would not call it too far-fetched, uncle?"
"No. It may have happened. I
would rather call it marvellous, yet still possible. And if so -- "
"There is but a single answer
to that supposition, uncle; they must be rescued from captivity!"
forcibly declared Bruno.
"That's right," confirmed
Waldo. "Of course all women and girls -- I mean other people's
kin -- are a tremendous sight of bother and worry, and all that; but
we're white, and so are they."
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"We must rescue them; there's
nothing else to do," again emphasised the elder Gillespie.
"That is no doubt the proper
caper, speaking from your boyish point of view, my generous-hearted
nephews; but -- just how?" dryly queried the professor. "Have
you arranged all that, as well, Bruno?"
"You surely would not abandon
them, uncle Phaeton?" asked the young man, something abashed by
that veiled reproof. "To such a horrible fate, too?"
"A fate which they must have
endured for fifteen years, provided your theory is correct, Bruno,"
with a fleeting smile. "Don't mistake me, lads. I am ready and
willing to do all that a man of my powers may, provided I see just
and sufficient cause for taking decisive action. That is yet lacking.
We are not certain that there are white women yonder. Or, if white
women, that they are captives. Or, if captives, that they would thank
us for aiding them to escape."
"Why, uncle Phaeton! Think of
Mr. Edgecombe, and how -- "
"I am thinking of him, and I
wish to think yet a little longer," quietly spoke the professor.
"keep a lookout, lads, and if you see aught of Waldo's fair
women, pray notify me."
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For the better part of an hour
comparative silence reigned, the boys feasting eyes upon yonder
spectacle, their uncle deeply in reverie; but then he roused up, his
final decision arrived at.
"I will do it!" were his
first words. "Yes, I will do it!"
"Do what, uncle Phaeton?"
asked Waldo, with poorly suppressed eagerness, as he turned towards
his relative.
"Go after Cooper Edgecombe, --
bringing him here in order that he may, sooner or later, solve this
perplexing enigma. Come, boys, we may as well start back towards the
aerostat."
But both youngsters objected in a
decided manner, Waldo saying:
"No, no, uncle Phaeton! Why
should we go along? You'll be coming right back, and will be less
crowded in the ship if we don't go."
"And we can better wait right
here; don't you see, uncle?"
"To keep the Lost City safely
found, don't you know? What if it should take a sudden notion to lose
itself again?" added Waldo, innocently.
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Chapter 17
CHAPTER XVII.
AN ENIGMA FOR THE
BROTHERS.
IN place of the indulgent smile for
which he was playing, Waldo received a frown, and directly thereafter
the professor spoke in tones which could by no possibility be
mistaken.
"Come with me, both of you. I am going back to the aerostat, and I dare not leave you boys behind. Come!"
Kind of heart and generally complaisant though uncle Phaeton was, neither Bruno nor Waldo cared to cross his will when made known in such tones, and without further remonstrance they followed his lead, slipping away from the snug little observatory without drawing attention to themselves from any of yonder busy horde.
Not until the trio was fairly within the gulch did the professor speak again, and then but a brief sentence or two.
"Give me time to weigh the matter, lads. Possibly I may agree, but don't try to hurry my cooler judgment, please."
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Waldo gave his brother an eager
nudge at this, gestures and grimaces being made to supply the lack of
words. But when, the better to express his confidence that all was
coming their way, the youngster attempted a caper of delight, his
foot slipped from a leaf-hidden stone, and he took an awkward tumble
at full length.
"Never touched me!" he
cried, scrambling to his feet ere a hand could come to his aid. "Who
says I don't know how to stand on both ends at the same time?"
Barring this little caper, naught
took place on their way to the air-ship; and once there, the
professor heaved a mighty sigh, wiping his heated face as one might
who has just won a worthy race. But he betrayed no especial haste in
setting the flying-machine afloat and Waldo finally ventured:
"Can we help you off, uncle
Phaeton?"
But he was assured there existed no
necessity for such great haste.
"In fact, it might be dangerous
to start while so many of the Aztecs are upon the lookout," came
the unexpected addition. "I believe it would be vastly better
not to leave here until shortly before dawn, to-morrow."
It took but a few words further to
convince the
-185-
brothers that this idea was wisest, and while the young
fellows felt sorry to have their view cut so short, neither ventured
to actually rebel.
After all, the day was well-nigh
spent, and, besides preparing their evening meal, it was essential
that their plans for the immediate future should be shaped as
thoroughly as possible.
Professor Featherwit had resolved to
fetch Cooper Edgecombe to the scene of interest, in order to give him
at least a fair chance to solve the enigma which was perplexing them
all. Even so, he felt that no small degree of physical danger would
attend that presence, particularly if it should really prove, as they
could but suspect, that both wife and daughter of the involuntary
exile were yonder, among the Aztecans.
Much of this the professor made
known to his nephews during that evening, the trio thoroughly
discussing the matter in all its bearings, but before the air-ship
was prepared for the night's rest, uncle Phaeton made the youngsters
happy by consenting to their remaining behind as guardians to the
Lost City, while he went in quest of the balloonist.
"But bear ever in mind the
conditions, lads," was his earnest conclusion. "I place you
upon your honour to take all possible precautions against being
-186-
discovered, or even running the least unnecessary risk during
my absence."
"Don't let that bother you,
uncle Phaeton," Waldo hastened to give assurance. "We'll be
wise as pigeons, and cautious as any old snake you ever caught up a
tree; eh, Bruno, old man?"
"We promise all you ask, uncle,
but does that mean we must stay right here, without even stealing a
weenty peep at the Lost City?"
Professor Featherwit felt sorely
tempted to say yes, but then, knowing boyish nature (although Bruno
had just passed his majority, while Waldo was "turned
seventeen") so well, he feared to draw the reins too tightly
lest they give way entirely.
"No; I do not expect quite that
much, my lads; but I do count on your taking no unnecessary risks,
and in case of discovery that you rather trust to flight, and my
finding you later on, than to actually fighting."
So it was decided, and at a fairly
early hour the trio lay down to sleep. Although so unusually excited
by the marvellous discoveries of the day just spent, their open-air
life tended to calm their brains, and, far sooner than might have
been expected, sleep crept over them, one and all, lasting until
nearly dawn.
-187-
Perhaps it was just as well that the
wakening was not more early, for the professor was beginning to
regret his weakness of the past evening, and had there been more time
for drawing lugubrious pictures of probable mishaps, he might even
yet have insisted on taking the youngsters with him.
Knowing that it was rather more than
probable some of the Indians would be stationed upon the hills to
watch for the queerly shaped air-demon, the professor felt obliged to
lose no further time, and so the separation was effected, just as the
eastern sky was beginning to show streaks and veins of a new day.
"Touch and go!" cried
Waldo, with a vast inhalation as he watched the aeromotor sail away
with the swiftness of a bird on wing. "And for a weenty bit I
reckoned 'twas you and me as part of the go, too!"
In company the lads enjoyed a more
leisurely meal than their relative had dared wait for, knowing that,
at the very least, they would have the whole of that day to
themselves, so far as uncle Phaeton was concerned. As a matter of
course, he would not attempt to return except under cover of night,
or in the early dawn of another day.
All that had been thoroughly
discussed and provided for the evening before, and was barely touched
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upon by the brothers now. Their first and most natural thought
was of yonder Lost City, with its inhabitants, red, white, and
yellow, as Waldo put it; but being still under the foreboding fears
of the professor, they finally agreed to remain where he left them
until after the sun crossed its meridian.
It was a rather early meal which the
brothers prepared, if the whole truth must be told; and the last
fragments were bolted rather than chewed, feet keeping time with
jaws, as they hastened towards the observatory.
There was pretty much the same sort
of view as on the day before, the main difference being that many of
the Indians were labouring in the fields, instead of watching for the
air-demon.
Using the glass by turns, the lads
kept eager watch for the white women whom Waldo stubbornly persisted
were within the town; but hour after hour passed without the desired
reward, and Bruno began to doubt whether there was any such vision to
be won.
"The sun was in your eyes, and
you let mad fancy run away with your better judgment, boy," he
decided, at length. "If not, why -- what now?"
For Waldo gave a low, eager
exclamation, gripping the field-glass as though he would crush in the
reinforced
-189-
leather case. A few moments thus, then he laughed in almost
fierce glee, thrusting the glass towards his brother, speaking
excitedly:
"A crazy fool lunatic, am I?
Well, now, you just take a squint at the old house for yourself and
see if -- biting you, now, is it?"
For Bruno showed even more intense
interest as he caught the right line, there taking note of -- yes,
they surely were white women! Faces, hair, all went to proclaim that
fact. And more than that, even.
"Fair -- lovely as a painter's
dream!" almost painfully breathed the elder Gillespie. "I
never saw such a lovely -- "
"Injun squaw, of course. Couple
of 'em. Nobody but a fool would ever think different. The idea of
finding white women -- "
"They are ladies, Waldo! I
never saw such -- and I feel that they must be the ones lost by poor
Edgecombe when that storm -- "
"That's all right enough, old
fellow," interrupted Waldo, claiming the glass once more. "No
need of your playing the porker on legs, though, as I see. Give
another fellow a chance to squint. But aren't they regular
jo-dandies, though, for a fact?"
The two women in question, clad in
flowing robes
-190-
of white, lit up here and there by a dash of colour, were
slowly pacing to and fro upon the temple where first discovered by
the keen-eyed youngster. Thanks to the excellent glass, it was
possible to view them clearly in spite of the distance, and there
could be no dispute upon that one point: both mother and daughter
(granting that such was their relationship) were more than ordinarily
fair and comely of both face and person.
For the better part of an hour that
slow promenade lasted, and until the women finally passed beyond
their range of vision, the brothers took eager and copious notes.
Then, in spite of the fact that scores of other figures still came
within their field of vision, curiosity lagged.
"It's like watching a street
medicine show, after hearing Patti or seeing Irving," muttered
Bruno, drawing back and stretching his wearied limbs beyond possible
discovery.
"Or the A B C class playing
two-old-cat, after a league game of extra innings; right you are, my
hearty!" coincided Waldo, feeling pretty much the same way,
"only with a difference."
Shortly after this, Bruno suggested
a retreat to the rendezvous, and for a wonder his brother agreed
without amendment.
-191-
The brothers passed down to the
gulch, which formed the easiest route to their refuge, saying very
little, and that in lowered tones. The confirmation so recently won
served to stir their hearts deeply, and neither boy could as yet see
a way out of the labyrinth that discovery most assuredly opened up
before them.
"Of course we can't leave them
there to drag on such a wretched existence," declared Bruno. "We
couldn't do that, even though we learned they held no relationship to
Mr. Edgecombe. But -- how?"
"I reckon it's -- what?"
abruptly spoke Waldo, gripping an arm and stopping short for a few
seconds, but then impulsively springing onward again as wild sounds
arose from no great distance.
A score of seconds later they caught
sight of a huge grizzly bear in the act of falling upon a slender
stripling, whose bronze hue as surely proclaimed one of the Aztec
children from yonder Lost City.
What was to be done? Disobey their
uncle, or leave this lad to perish?
-192-
Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII.
SOMETHING LIKE A
WHITE ELEPHANT.
ONLY a lad, slight-limbed and
slenderly framed to the eye, yet for all that gifted with a gallant
heart, else he surely must have been cowed to terror by the huge bulk
of such a dire adversary at close quarters.
Instead of trying to find safety in headlong flight, the Indian stood at bay, with both hands firmly gripping the shaft of his copper-bladed spear, at far too close quarters for employing bow and arrows, while the copper knife in his sash was held in reserve for still closer work.
Snarling, growling, displaying its great teeth while clumsily waving enormous paws which bore talons of more than a finger-length, the bear was balanced upon its hindquarters, evidently just ready to lurch forward with striking paws and gnashing teeth.
Its enormous weight would prove more than sufficient to end the contest ere it fairly began, while a slight stroke from those taloned paws would both slay and mutilate.
-193-
No one was better aware of all this
than the Indian lad himself, yet he took the initiative, swiftly
darting his spear forward, lending to its keen point all the power of
both arms and body. A suicidal act it certainly appeared, yet one
which could scarcely make his position more perilous.
An awful roar burst from bruin as he
felt that thrust, the blade sinking deep and biting shrewdly; but
then he plunged forward, striking savagely as he dropped.
The Indian strove to leap backward
an instant after delivering his stroke, but still clung to the
spear-shaft. This hampered his action to a certain degree, yet in all
probability that stout ashen shaft preserved his life, which that
wound would otherwise have forfeited.
The stroke but brushed a shoulder,
nor did a claw take fair effect, yet the stripling was felled to
earth as though smitten by a thunderbolt.
All this before the brothers could
solve the enigma thus offered them so unexpectedly; but that fall,
and the awful rage displayed by the wounded grizzly as he briefly
reared erect to grind asunder the spearshaft, decided the white lads,
and, temporarily forgetting how dangerously nigh were yonder Aztecan
hosts, both Bruno and Waldo opened fire with their
-194-
Winchester rifles, sending shot after shot in swift succession
into the bulky brute, fairly beating him backward under their storm
of lead.
Victory came right speedily, but its
finale was thrilling, if not fatal, the huge beast toppling forward
to drop heavily upon the young savage, just as he was recovering
sufficiently from shock and surprise to begin a struggle for his
footing.
Firing another couple of shots while
rifle-muzzle almost touched an ear, the brothers quickly turned
attention towards the fallen Indian, more than half believing him a
corpse, crushed out of shape upon the underlying rocks by that
enormous carcass.
Fortunately for all concerned, the
young Aztec was lying in a natural depression between two firm rocks,
and while his extrication proved to be a matter of both time and
difficulty, saying nothing of main strength, success finally rewarded
the efforts of our young Samaritans.
The grizzly was stone-dead. The
Indian seemed but a trifle better, though that came through
compression rather than any actual wounds from tooth or talon. And
the brothers themselves were fairly dismayed.
Not until that rescue was finally
accomplished did either lad give thought to what might follow; but
-195-
now they drew back a bit, interchanging looks of puzzled doubt
and worry.
"Right in it, up to our necks,
old man! And we can't very well kill the critter, can we?"
"Of course not; but it may
cause us sore trouble if -- "
Just then the young Aztec rallied
sufficiently to move, drawing a step nearer the brothers, right hand
coming out in greeting, while left palm was pressed close above his
heart. And -- still greater marvel!
"Much obliged -- me, you,
brother!"
If yonder bleeding grizzly had risen
erect and made just such a salutation as this, it could scarcely have
caused greater surprise to either Bruno or Waldo, looking upon this
being, as they quite naturally did, in the light of a genuine
"heathen," hence incapable of speaking any known tongue,
much less the glorious Americanese.
True, there was a certain odd
accent, a curious dwelling upon each syllable, but the words
themselves were distinctly pronounced and beyond misapprehension.
"Why, I took you for a howling
Injun!" fairly exploded Waldo, then stepping forward to clasp
the proffered member, giving it a regular "pump-handle shake"
by way of emphasis. "And here you are,
-196-
slinging the pure United States around just as though it
didn't cost a cent, and you held a mortgage on the whole dictionary!
Why, I can't -- well, well, now!"
For once in a way the glib-tongued
lad was at a loss just what to say and how to say it. For, after all,
this surely was a redskin, and the professor had explicitly warned
them against -- oh, dear!
Was it all a dizzy dream? For the
Aztec drew back, speaking rapidly in an unknown tongue, then sinking
to earth like one overpowered by sudden physical weakness.
Bruno Gillespie, too, was recalling
his uncle's earnest cautions, and now took prompt action. He quickly
secured the weapons which had been scattered as the Indian fell
before the grizzly's paw, then the brothers drew a little apart to
consult together.
"What'll we do about it?"
whisperingly demanded Waldo, keeping a wary eye upon yonder redskin.
"You tell, for blamed if I know how!"
"We daren't let him go free,
else he might fetch the whole tribe upon our track," said Bruno,
in the same low tones, no whit less sorely perplexed as to their
wisest course.
"No, and yet we can't very well
kill him, either! If we hadn't come along just as we did,
-197-
"`MUCH OBLIGED -- ME, YOU, BROTHER!'"
-199-
or if -- but he's a man, after all! Who could stand by and see
that ugly brute make a meal off even an Injun?"
Bruno cast an uneasy look around, at
the same time deftly refilling the partly exhausted magazine of his
Winchester.
"Load up, Waldo. Burning powder
reaches mighty far, even here in the hills; and who knows, -- the
whole tribe may come helter-skelter this way, to see what has broken
loose! And we can't fight 'em all!"
"Not unless we just have to,"
agreed the younger Gillespie, placing a few shells where they would
be handiest in case of another emergency. "But what's the use of
running, if we're to leave this fellow behind to blaze our trail? If
he is our enemy -- "
"No en'my; Ixtli friend, --
heart-brother," eagerly vowed the young Aztec, once again
startling the lads by his strange command of a foreign tongue.
He rose to his feet, though plainly
suffering in some slight degree from that brief collision with the
huge beast, and smiling frankly into first one face, then the other,
took Bruno's hand, touched it with his lips, then bowed his head and
placed the whiter palm upon his now uncovered crown.
In like manner he saluted Waldo,
after which he
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drew back a bit, still smiling genially, to add, in slowly
spoken words:
"You save Ixtli. Bear kill --
no; you kill -- yes! Ixtli glad. Sun Children great -- big heart full
of love. So -- Ixtli never do hurt, never do wrong; die for white
brother -- so!"
More through gesticulation than by
speech, the young Indian brave made his sentiments clearly
understood, and if they could have placed full dependence in that
pledge, the brothers would have felt vastly relieved in mind.
But they only too clearly recalled
numerous instances of cunning ill-faith, and, in despite of all, they
could not well avoid thinking that this was really something like a
white elephant thrown upon their hands.
"All right. Play we swallow it
all, but keep your best eye peeled, old man," guardedly
whispered Waldo. "Fetch him along, yes or no, for it may be
growing worse than dangerous right here, after so much shooting."
"You mean for us to -- "
"Take the fellow along, and
keep him with us, until uncle Phaeton comes back to finally decide
upon his case," promptly explained Waldo. "Of course we
ought to've let him die; ought, but didn't! We
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couldn't then, wouldn't now, if it was all to do over. So
watch him so closely that he can't play tricks even if he wishes."
There was nothing better to propose,
and though the job promised to be an awkward one to manage, Ixtli
himself rendered it more easy.
Past all doubt he could understand,
as well as speak, the English language, for he took a step in evident
submission, speaking gently:
"Ixtli ready; heart-brother say
where go, now."
Again the brothers felt startled by
that quaintly correct accent, and almost involuntarily Bruno spoke in
turn:
"You can talk English? When did
you learn? And from whom?"
A still brighter smile irradiated
the Aztec's face, and turning his eyes towards the secluded valley,
he bowed his head as though in deep reverence, then softly, lovingly,
almost adoringly, responded:
"She tell me how. Victo,
-- Glady, too. Ixtli know little, not much; his heart feel big for
Sun Children, all time. So you, too, for kill bear, -- like
dat!"
Bruno turned a bit paler than usual,
catching his breath sharply, as he repeated those names:
"Victo, -- Glady, -- Wasn't it
by those names,
-202-
Victoria, Gladys, that Mr. Edgecombe called his lost ones,
Waldo?"
"I can't remember; but get a
move on, old man. The sooner we're back where uncle Phaeton left us,
where we can see a bit more of what may be coming, the safer my
precious scalp will feel. This Injun -- "
"No scalp," quickly
interposed the Aztec, with a deprecatory gesture to match his words.
"You save Ixtli. Ixtli say no hurt white brothers. Dat so, --
dat sure for truth!"
Only partially satisfied by this
earnest disclaimer of evil intentions, Waldo gripped an arm and
hurried the Aztec along, leaving the bear where it had fallen, intent
solely upon reaching a comparatively safe outlook ere worse could
follow upon the heels of their latest adventure.
And Bruno brought up the rear as
guard, eyes and rifle ready.
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Chapter 19
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CHILDREN OF THE
SUN GOD.
NO difficulty whatever was
experienced in reaching that retreat, and milder prisoner never knew
a guard than Ixtli proved himself to be, silently yielding to each
impulse lent his arm by Waldo, smiling when, as sometimes happened,
he was brought more nearly face to face with that armed rear-guard.
Nor were the Gillespie brothers worried by sound, sign, or token of more serious trouble from others of that strangely surviving race. And it was not long after reaching the rendezvous from which the professor had sailed in the early dawn, that the youngsters agreed the echoes of their Winchesters could not have reached the ears of the Lost City inhabitants.
"That's plenty good luck for one soup-bunch," quoth Waldo, yet adding a dubious shake of the head as he gazed upon their bronzed companion. "And if it wasn't for this gentleman in masquerade costume -- "
-204-
"Ixtli friend. Ixtli feel like
heart-brother," came in low, mellow accents from those smiling
lips.
There certainly was naught of guile
or of evil craft to be read in either eyes or visage, just then; but
the brothers could not feel entirely at ease, even yet. How many
times had warriors of his colour played a cunning part, only to end
all by blow of tomahawk, thrust of knife, or bolt from the bended
bow?
At a barely perceptible sign from
Bruno, his brother drew apart, leaving their "white elephant"
by himself, yet none the less under a vigilant guard.
"He seems all right, in his
way," muttered the elder Gillespie, "but how far ought we
to trust him, after what we promised uncle Phaeton?"
"Not quite as far as we can see
him, anyway. Still, a fellow can't find the stomach to bowl him over
like a hare, -- without a weenty bit of excuse, at least."
"That's it! If he'd try to
bolt, or would even jump on one of us, it would come far more easy.
Look at him smile, now! And I hate to think of clapping such a
bright-seeming lad in bonds!"
"Time enough for all that when
he shows us cause," quickly decided Waldo, with a vigorous nod
of his curly pow. "Pity if a couple of us can't keep him out of
mischief without going that far. And we
-205-
want to pump the kid dry before uncle Phaeton gets back;
understand?"
Bruno gave a slight start at these
words, but his eye-glow and face-flush bore witness that the idea
thus suggested had not been unthought of in his own case.
"Then you really think -- "
"That there's more ways than
one of skinning a cat," oracularly observed Waldo. "Without
showing it too mighty plainly, one or the other of us can always be
ready and prepared to dump the laddy-buck, in case he tries to come
any of his didoes. And, at the same time, we can be hugging up to him
just as sweetly as though we knew he was on the dead level.
Understand?"
Possibly the programme might have
been a little more elegantly expressed, but Waldo, as a rule, cared
more for substance than form, and his speech possessed one merit,
that of perspicuity.
Having reached this fair
understanding, the brothers dropped their aside, and moved nearer the
young Aztec.
Ixtli gazed keenly into first one
face, then the other, plainly enough endeavouring to read the truth
as might be expressed therein, as related to himself. What he saw
must have proved fairly satisfactory,
-206-
since he gave another bright smile, then spoke in really
musical tones:
"Good, -- brother, now! That
more good, too!"
In spite of the suspicions, which
seem inborn where people of the red race are concerned, both Bruno
and Waldo felt more and more drawn towards this remarkable specimen
of a still more remarkable tribe; and not many more minutes had sped
by ere the younger couple were chatting together in amicable fashion,
although finding some little difficulty in Ixtli's rather limited
vocabulary.
Not a little to his elder brother's
impatience, Waldo apparently took a deeper interest in the recent
adventure than in the subject which claimed his own busiest thoughts,
but he hardly cared to crowd the youngster, lest he make matters even
worse.
Aided by the sort of freemasonry
which naturally exists between lads of an adventurous nature, Waldo
readily succeeded in picking up considerable information from the
Aztec, even before broaching that all-important matter.
Ixtli was the only son of a famed
warrior and chieftain of the Aztecan clans, by name Aztotl, or the
Red Heron. He, in common with so many of his people, had witnessed
the approach and abrupt
-207-
departure of the strange bird in the air, and had hastened
forth in quest of the monster.
He failed to see aught more of the
strange creature, but, disliking to return home without something to
show for the trip, remained out over night, then chanced to fairly
stumble into the way of a mighty grizzly.
There were a few moments during
which he might possibly have escaped through headlong flight, but he
was too proud for that, and but for the timely arrival and prompt
action on the part of his white brothers would almost certainly have
paid the penalty with his life.
Then followed more thanks and broken
expressions of gratitude, all of which Waldo magnanimously waved
aside as wholly unnecessary.
"Don't work up a sweat for a
little thing like that, old man. Of course we saw you were an Injun
and -- ahem! I mean, how in time did you happen to catch hold of our
lingo so mighty pat, laddy-buck?"
"My brother means to ask who
taught you to speak as we do, Ixtli?" amended Bruno, catching at
the wished-for opportunity now it offered.
"And who was that nice little
gal with the yellow hair? Is she -- what did you call her? Gladys
And the rest of it Edgecombe?"
-208-
Waldo was eager enough now that the
ice was fairly broken, but his very volubility served to complicate
matters rather than to hasten the desired information.
Ixtli apparently thought in English
pretty much as he spoke it, -- slowly, and with care. When hurried,
his brain and tongue naturally fell back upon his native language.
Sounds issued through his lips, but,
despite all their animation, these proved to be but empty sounds to
the eager brothers. And, divining the truth, Bruno checked his
brother, himself acting as questioner, pretty soon striking the right
chord, after which Ixtli fared very well.
Still, thanks to his difficulty in
finding the right words with which to express his full meaning, it
took both time and patience for even Bruno to learn all he desired;
and even if such a course would be desirable, lack of space forbids
giving a literal record of questions and answers, since the general
result of that cross-examination may be put so much more compactly
before the generous reader.
The first point made clear was that
the young Aztec owed his imperfect knowledge of the English language
to certain Children of the Sun, whom he named as if christened Victo
and Glady. With this
-209-
as starting-point, the rest formed a mere question of time and
perseverance.
Growing in animation as he
proceeded, Ixtli told of the coming to their city of those glorious
children; riding upon the wings of an awful storm, yet issuing
unharmed, unawed, bright of face, as the mighty orb the sons of
Anahuac worshipped.
He told how an envious few held to
the contrary: that these fair-skins had come as evil emissaries from
the still more evil Mictlanteuctli, mighty Lord of Death-land, who
had laden them with pestilence and brain-sorrow and eye-darkness,
with orders to devastate this, the last fair city of the ancient
race.
With low, sternly suppressed tones,
the young warrior went on to tell of what followed: of the wicked
attempt made by those malcontents to punish the bearers of death and
misery; then, his voice rising and growing more clear, he told how,
from a clearing-sky, there came a single shaft flung by the mighty
hand of the great god, Quetzalcoatl, before which the impious dog
went down in everlasting death.
"Struck by lightning, eh?"
interpreted Waldo, who seemed born without the influence of poetry.
"Served him mighty right, too!"
Bowing submissively, although it
could be seen he scarcely comprehended just what those blunt words
-210-
were meant to convey, Ixtli spoke on, seemingly with perfect
willingness, so long as the adored "Sun Children" formed
the subject-matter.
From his laboured statement, Bruno
gathered that the sudden death of one who had dared to lift an armed
hand against the woman so mysteriously placed there in their very
midst awed all opposition to the general belief in the divine origin
of mother and child; and ere long Victo was installed as a sort of
high priestess of the temple more especially devoted to the Sun God.
That was long ago, and when Ixtli
was but a child. As he grew older, and his father? Red Heron, was
appointed as chief of guards to the Sun Children, Victo took more
notice of the lad, and ended in teaching him both the English tongue
and its Christian creed, so far as lay in his power to comprehend.
Then came less pleasing information
concerning the Children of the Sun, which went far to prove that the
death of one evil-minded dog had not entirely purged the Lost City,
and it was with harsher tones and frowning brows that Ixtli spoke of
the head priest, or paba, Tlacopa the evil-minded, who had built up a
powerful and dangerous sentiment against both Victo and Glady, even
going so far as to declare before the holy stone of sacrifice that
the Mother of
-211-
Gods demanded these falsely titled Children of the Sun.
"The fair-faced God must come
soon, or too late!" sighed the Aztec, bowing his head in joined
palms the better to conceal his evident grief. "He has promised
to come, but hurry! They die -- they die!"
This was hardly an acceptable
stopping-point, but questioning was of little avail just then.
Satisfied of so much, the brothers drew apart a short distance, yet
keeping where they could guard their more or less dangerous charge,
conversing in low tones over the information so far gleaned from the
Aztec's talk.
"Well, we'll hold a tight grip
on him, anyway, until uncle Phaeton gets back," finally decided
Waldo, speaking for his brother as well.
-212-
Chapter 20
CHAPTER XX.
THE PROFESSOR AND THE
AZTEC.
FORTUNATELY for all concerned, there
proved to be no serious difficulty attached to that same holding. So
far as outward semblance went, Ixtli was very well content with both
present quarters and present companionship.
He likewise enjoyed the supper that, aided by a small fire kindled in a depression so low that the light could by no means attract any unfriendly eye, Bruno prepared for them all. And just prior to taking his first taste, the young warrior bowed his head to murmur a few sentences which, past all doubt, had first come to his mind through the wonderful Victo: a simple little blessing, which certainly did not add to the dislike or uneasiness with which the brothers regarded their guest.
"He's white, even if he is red!" confidentially declared Waldo, at his first opportunity. "More danger of our spoiling him than his doing us dirt; and that's an honest fact for a quarter, old man!"
-213-
Bruno felt pretty much the same, yet
his added years gave him greater discretion, and, in spite of that
growing liking, he kept a fairly keen watch and ward over the Aztec.
After supper there came further
questioning and answers, Waldo as a rule playing inquisitor, eager to
learn more anent the strange existence which these people must live,
so completely hemmed in from all the rest of the world as they surely
were in yonder valley.
Without at all betraying the exile,
Gillespie spoke of the lake and its mighty whirlpool, then learned
that the Indians really made semi-annual trips thither for the
purpose of laying in a supply of dried fish for the winter's
consumption.
As the night waned, preparations
were made for sleeping, although it was agreed between the brothers
that one or the other should stand guard in regular order.
"Not that I really believe the
fellow would play us dirt, even with every chance laid open,"
Waldo admitted. "Still, it's what uncle Phaeton would advise,
and we can't well do less than follow his will, Bruno."
"Since we broke it so
completely by tackling the grizzly," with a brief laugh.
"That's all right, too. Of
course we'd ought to've
-214-
skulked away like a couple of egg-sucking curs, but we didn't,
and I'm mightily glad of it, too. For Ixtli -- what a name that is to
go to bed with every night, though! -- for Ixtli is just about as
white as they make 'em, nowadays; you hear me blow my bazoo?"
And so the long night wore its
length along, the brothers taking turns at keeping watch and ward,
but the Aztec slumbering peacefully through all, looking the least
dangerous of all possible captives. And after this light even the
cautious Bruno began to regard him ere the first stroke of coming
dawn could be seen above the eastern hills.
Not being positive just where the
air-ship would put in an appearance, since Professor Featherwit had,
perforce, left that question open, to be decided by circumstances
over which he might have no control, each guard in turn devoted
considerable attention to the upper regions, hoping to glimpse the
aerostat, and holding matches in readiness to raise a flare by way of
alighting signal. But it was not until the early dawn that Bruno
caught sight of the air-ship, just skimming the tree-tops, the better
to escape observation by any Indian lookout.
After that the rest came easily
enough. A couple of blazing matches held aloft proved sufficient cue
to
-215-
the professor, and soon thereafter the flying-machine was
safely brought to land, so gently that the slumbers of the young
Aztec were undisturbed.
Bruno gave a hasty word of warning
and explanation combined, even before he extended a welcoming hand
towards Mr. Edgecombe, who certainly appeared all the better for his
encounter with people of his own race.
Professor Featherwit took a keen,
eager look at the slumbering redskin, then drew silently back, to
whisper in Bruno's ear:
"Guard well your tongue, lad. I
have told him nothing, as yet, and we must consult together before
breaking the news. For now we have had no rest, so I believe we would
better lie down for an hour or two."
Mr. Edgecombe appeared to be
perfectly willing to do this, and soon the wearied men were wrapped
in blankets and sleeping peacefully.
Long before their lids unclosed,
Bruno had an appetising meal in readiness, although the others had
broken fast long before, and Ixtli, his hands tightly clasped behind
his back, as a child is wont to resist temptation, was inspecting the
air-ship in awed silence.
Taking advantage of this
preoccupation, Bruno
-216-
quickly yet clearly explained to his uncle all that had
happened, showing that by playing a more prudent part the young
warrior must inevitably have perished.
Then, making sure Cooper Edgecombe
was not near enough to catch his words, Bruno told in brief the
information gleaned from Ixtli concerning the Children of the Sun,
whom he and Waldo more than suspected must be the long-lost wife and
daughter of the exiled aeronaut.
As might have been expected,
Professor Featherwit was deeply stirred by all this, fidgeting
nervously while keeping alert ears, with difficulty smothering the
ejaculations which fought for exit through his lips.
After satisfying his craving for
food, the professor led the young Aztec apart from the rest of the
party, speaking kindly and sympathetically until he had won a fair
share of liking for his own, then broaching the subject of the Sun
Children.
After this it was by no means a
difficult matter to get at the seat of trouble, and little by little
Featherwit satisfied himself that Ixtli would do all, dare all, for
the sake of benefiting the woman and maiden who had treated him so
kindly.
At a covert sign from the professor,
Bruno came
-217-
to join in the talk, and his sympathy made the young Aztec
even more communicative. And Ixtli spoke more at length concerning
Tlacopa, the paba, and another enemy whom the Children of the Sun had
nearly equal cause to fear, one Huatzin, or Prince Hua, chiefest
among the mighty warriors of the Aztecan clans.
This evil prince had for years past
sought Victo for his bride, while his son, Iocetl, tried in vain to
win the heart-smiles of the fair Glady, Victo's daughter. And,
through revenge for having their suit frowned upon, these wicked
knaves had joined hands with the priest in trying to drag the Sun
Children down from their lofty pedestal.
It did not take long questioning, or
shrewd, to convince the professor that in Ixtli they could count upon
a true and daring supporter in case they should conclude to interfere
in behalf of his patroness and teacher, adored Victo.
The professor led the way over to
the air-ship, there producing the clothing and arms once worn by
another Aztec warrior, which he had carefully stowed away in the
locker, loath to lose sight of such valuable relics; truly unique, as
he assured himself at the moment.
Bruno gave a little exclamation at
sight of the
-218-
articles, then in eager tones he made known the daring idea
which then flashed across his busy brain.
"We ought to make sure before
taking action, uncle Phaeton. Then why not let me don these clothes
and steal down into the valley, under cover of darkness, to see the
ladies and -- "
"No, no, my lad," quickly
interrupted the professor, gripping an arm as though fearful of an
instant runaway. "That would be too risky; that would be almost
suicidal! And -- no use talking," with an obstinate shake of his
head, as Bruno attempted to edge in an expostulation. "I will
never give my consent; never!"
"Or hardly ever," supplied
Waldo, coming that way like one who feels the proprieties have been
more than sufficiently outraged. "Give some other person a
chance to wag his chin a bit, can't ye, gentlemen? Not that I
care to chatter merely for sake of hearing my own voice; but -- eh?"
"We were considering whether or
no 'twould be advisable to take a walk over to the observatory,"
coolly explained the professor. "Of course, if you would rather
remain here to watch the aerostat -- "
"Let Bruno do that, uncle. He
grew thoroughly disgusted with what he saw over yonder, yesterday,"
placidly observed the youngster.
-219-
"Waldo, you villain!"
"Well, didn't you vow and
declare that you could recognise grace and beauty and all other
varieties of attractiveness only in -- dark brunettes, old man?"
Professor Featherwit hastily
interposed, lest words be let fall through which Mr. Edgecombe might
catch a premature idea of the possible surprise held in store; and
shortly afterwards the start was made for the snug covert from whence
the Lost City had been viewed on prior occasions.
Naturally their route led them
directly past the scene of the bear fight, where the huge carcass lay
as yet undisturbed, and calling forth sundry words of wonder and even
admiration, through its very ponderosity and now harmless ferocity.
Professor Featherwit deemed it his
duty to gravely reprove his wards for their rash conduct, yet
something in his twinkling eyes and in the kindly touch of his bony
hand told a far different tale. His anger took the shape of pride and
of heart-love.
In due course of time the lookout
was won, and without delay the savant turned his field-glass upon the
temple which appeared to appertain to the so-called Sun Children;
but, not a little to his chagrin, the azotea was utterly devoid of
human life.
But that disappointment was of brief
existence,
-220-
for, almost as though his action was the signal for which they
had been waiting, mother and daughter came slowly into view, arm in
arm, clad in robes of snowy white, with their luxuriant locks flowing
loose as upon former occasions.
Both lads -- three of them, to be
more exact -- gave low exclamations of eager interest as those shapes
came in sight, while even Cooper Edgecombe gazed with growing
interest upon the scene, wholly unsuspecting though he was as yet.
A slight nod from the professor
warned the brothers to stand ready in case of need, then he offered
the exile the glass, begging him to inspect yonder fair women upon
the teocalli.
The glass was levelled and held
firmly for a half minute, then the exile gave a choking cry, gasping,
ere he fell as one smitten by death:
"Merciful heavens! My wife --
my child!"
-221-
Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI.
DISCUSSING WAYS AND
MEANS.
IN good measure prepared for some
such result, in case their expectations should prove true, friendly
hands at once closed upon the exile, hurrying him back, and still
more completely under cover, as quickly as might be.
Cooper Edgecombe seemed as wax in their hands, not utterly deprived of consciousness, but rather like one dazed by some totally unexpected blow. He made not the slightest resistance, yielding to each impulse given, shivering and weak as one just rallying from an almost mortal illness.
Yet there came an occasional flash to his eyes which warned the wary professor of impending trouble, and as quickly as might be the stunned aeronaut was removed from the point of observation, taken by short stages back to the spot where rested the flying-machine.
Ixtli seemed something awed by this (to him) inexplicable conduct on the part of the gaunt-limbed
-222-
stranger, but gave his new-found friends neither trouble nor
cause for worry, bearing them company and even lending a hand
whenever he thought it might be needed.
The Gillespie brothers were far more
deeply stirred, as was natural, but even Waldo contrived to keep a
fair guard over his at times unruly member, speaking but little
during that retreat.
With each minute that elapsed Cooper
Edgecombe gained in bodily powers, and while his mental strength was
slower to respond, that proved to be a blessing rather than
otherwise.
The rendezvous was barely gained ere
he gave a hoarse cry of reviving memory, then strove to break away
from that friendly care, calling wildly for his wife, his daughter,
fancying them in some dire peril from which alone his arms could
preserve them.
It was a painful scene as well as a
trying one, that which followed closely, and respite only came after
bonds had been applied to the limbs of the madman, -- for such Cooper
Edgecombe assuredly was, just then.
There were tears in the professor's
eyes, as he strove hardest to soothe the sufferer, assuring him that
his loved ones should be restored to his arms, yet repeatedly
reminding him that any rash action
-223-
taken then must almost certainly work against their better
interests.
The exile grew less violent, but
that was more through physical exhaustion than aught else, and what
had, from the very first, appeared a difficult enigma, now looked far
worse.
Only when fairly well assured that
the sufferer would not attract unwelcome attention their way through
too boisterous shouting, did the professor draw far enough away for
quiet consultation with his nephews.
Mr. Edgecombe was deposited within
the air-ship, secured in such a manner that it would be well-nigh
impossible for him to do either himself or the machine material
injury, no matter how violent he might become; and hence, in case of
threatened trouble from the inmates of the Lost City, flight would
not be seriously hindered through caring for him.
Professor Featherwit now gleaned
from his nephews pretty much all they could tell him concerning
sights and events since his departure in quest of the exile. That
proved to be very little more than he had already learned, and
contained still less which seemed of especial benefit to that
particular enigma awaiting solution.
-224-
True, Waldo suggested that Ixtli be
employed as a medium of communication between the Sun Children and
themselves; but, possibly because, as a rule, this irrepressible
youngster's ideas were generally the wildest and most far-fetched
imaginable, uncle Phaeton frowned upon the plan.
No; the young Aztec might prove true
at heart, even as indications went, but the risk of so trusting him
would prove far too great.
"That's just because you
haven't known and slept with him, like we have," declared Waldo.
"He's red on the outside, but he's got just as white a soul as
the best of us, -- bar none."
Bruno likewise appeared to think
well of the young brave, and suggested an amendment to Waldo's
motion, -- that he accompany Ixtli into the sunken valley, covered by
the friendly shades of night, there to open communication with the
Sun Children.
"By so doing, we could make
certain of their identity," the young man argued, earnestly.
"That, it appears to me, is the first step to be taken. For, in
spite of the apparent recognition by Mr. Edgecombe, it is possible
that no actual relationship exists."
"What of that?" bluntly
cut in the younger Gillespie. "Don't you reckon strangers'd like
to
-225-
take a little walk, just as well as any other people?"
"Patience, my lad,"
interposed the professor. "While we seem in duty bound to lend
aid and assistance to women in actual distress, we can only serve
them with their own free will and accord. Granting that the women we
saw upon the teocalli were other than those believed by our afflicted
friend -- "
"But, uncle, look at their
names! And don't Ixtli say -- tell 'em all over again, pardner, won't
ye?" urged Waldo, taking a burning interest in the matter, as
was his custom when fairly involved.
The young Aztec complied as well as
lay within his power, giving it as his fixed opinion that sore
trouble, if not actual peril, awaited the Children of the Sun, unless
assisted by powerful friends. He spoke of the mighty chieftain,
Prince Hua, and of the high priest, Tlacopa, who was, to all seeming,
playing directly into the hands of the 'Tzin.
"He say Mother of Gods call --
loud! He say sacrifice, and dat -- no, no! Quetzal' send -- Quetzal'
save -- must save Victo, Glady!"
Further questioning resulted in but
little more information, though, as Ixtli grew calmer, he emphasised
such statements as he had already made,
-226-
elaborating them a trifle. And, by this, his questioners
learned that, humanly speaking, the fate of the Sun God's Children
depended almost entirely upon the whim or fancy of the chief paba of
the teocalli.
Through Tlacopa issued the awesome
oracles, and when his voice thundered forth the dread fiat, who dared
to openly rebel?
Further questioning brought forth
one more important fact, -- that there was absolutely no hope of
either Victo or Glady coming forth from the valley, either by night
or by day. While ostensibly free of will as they were of limb,
neither woman was permitted to leave yonder temple, save under armed
escort; and guards were on duty each hour of the day and night.
"But we could get to see and
speak with them, Ixtli?" asked Bruno, eager to reach some fair
understanding as to the future course of action.
"Yes, white brother, go with
Ixtli," came the hesitating reply; but then the Aztec caught one
of Gillespie's hands, holding it in close contrast to his own brown
paw, shaking his head doubtingly. "No like. Keen eye, dem
people. Watch close. Find 'nother white skin -- bad!"
"You hear that, Bruno?"
asked the professor,
-227-
really relieved at such positive evidence in conflict with the
rash proposition made by the young man.
"Of course I thought of going
under cover of the night, uncle, and surely it would not be such a
difficult matter to darken my face and hands? With dirt, if nothing
better can be found. And if I wore the clothes you brought from the
cavern, uncle Phaeton?"
"That's the ticket!" broke
in Waldo, eagerly. "Why, in a rig like that, I could turn the
trick my own self!"
The consultation was broken off at
this juncture by a faint summons from Cooper Edgecombe, and Professor
Featherwit was only too glad of the excuse, hurrying over to the
flying-machine, finding to his great joy that the exile was now far
more like his old-time self.
Still, great caution was used in
revealing all, and it was not until considerably later in the day
that Mr. Edgecombe felt capable of taking part in the discussion of
ways and means.
He declared that his recognition had
been complete, in spite of the long years which had elapsed since
losing sight of his dear ones; and he earnestly vowed to never give
over until their rescue was effected, or he had lost his life while
making the attempt.
-228-
While the two air-voyagers were thus
engaged in talk, Bruno silently stole away with Ixtli, taking a
bundle along, and leaving Waldo to throw their uncle off the track in
case his suspicions should be prematurely awakened. Then, side by
side, two Indian braves silently approached the aerostat, causing
Professor Featherwit to make a hasty dive for his dynamite gun to
repel a fancied onslaught.
"Sold again, and who comes
next?" merrily exploded Waldo, dancing about in high glee as the
supposed redskin slowly turned around for inspection before speaking,
in familiar tones:
"Would there be such an
enormous risk of discovery, uncle Phaeton, provided I put lock and
seal upon my lips, save for the ladies?"
That experiment proved to be a
complete success, and after Cooper Edgecombe added his pathetic
pleadings to the young man's own arguments, Professor Featherwit
gradually gave way, though still with reluctance.
"I could never find forgiveness
should harm come to your mother's son, boy," he huskily
murmured, his arm stealing about Bruno's middle. "I'd far rather
venture myself, and -- why not, pray?" as Waldo burst into an
involuntary laugh.
Then he turned upon Ixtli, a hand
resting upon
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each shoulder while he gazed keenly into those lustrous dark
orbs for a full minute in perfect silence. Then he spoke, slowly,
gravely:
"Can we trust you, friend?
Would you sell the boy to whose arm you owe your own life, unto his
enemies? Would you lead him blindly to his death, Ixtli, son of
Aztotl?"
A wondering gaze, then the Indian
appeared to flush hotly. He shook off those far from steady hands,
drawing his knife and with free fingers tearing open his dress above
the heart. Thrusting the weapon into Bruno's hand, he spoke in clear,
distinct accents:
"Strike hard, white brother!
Open heart; see if all black!"
Eye to eye the two youths stood for
a brief space in silence, then the weapon was let fall, and Bruno
gripped the Indian's hand and shook it most cordially.
"Strike you, Ixtli? I'd just as
soon smite my brother by birth!"
"And that's mighty right, too!"
cried Waldo, impetuously.
"I really begin to believe that
you are all in the right, while I alone am left in the wrong,"
frankly admitted the professor.
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Chapter 22
CHAPTER XXII.
A DARING
UNDERTAKING.
STILL, that point was of too vital
importance to justify hasty decision, and the professor did not make
his surrender complete until the shades of another night were
beginning to gather over the land.
Meantime, partly for the purpose of keeping the youngsters employed and thus out of the way of less harmless things, the professor suggested that the huge grizzly be flayed. If the proposed scheme should really be undertaken, that mighty pelt, if uncomfortable to convey, would serve as a fair excuse for the young brave's as yet unexplained absence from the Lost City.
As a matter of course, Cooper Edgecombe felt intense anxiety through all, but he contrived to keep fair mastery over his emotions, readily admitting that he himself could do naught towards visiting the Lost City.
"I know that my loved ones are yonder. I would joyfully suffer ten thousand deaths by torture for the
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chance to speak one word to -- to them. And yet I know any
such attempt would prove fatal to us all. The mere sight of -- I
would go crazy with joy!"
There is no necessity for repeating
the various arguments used, pro and con, before the final agreement
was reached. Enough has already been put upon record, and the result
must suffice: Professor Featherwit yielded the vital point, and,
having once fairly expressed his fears and doubts, flung his whole
heart into perfecting the disguise which was now counted upon to
carry Bruno safely into and out of yonder city.
He was carefully trigged out in the
warlike uniform secured by Cooper Edgecombe at the cost of a human
life, and, with fresh stain applied to his face and hands, the slight
moustache he wore was not dangerously perceptible.
" 'Twould take a strong light
and mighty keen eyes to see it at all, and even if a body should
happen to notice it, he'd reckon 'twas a bit of smut, or the like,"
generously declared Waldo.
Under less trying circumstances,
Bruno might have answered in kind, but now he merely smiled at the
jester, then turned again to receive the earnest cautions let fall
for his benefit by the professor.
-232-
Above all else, he was to steer
clear of fighting, and, without he saw a fair chance of winning
speech with the white women, he was to keep in such hiding as Ixtli
might furnish, trusting the young Aztec to post the Children of the
Sun as to what was in the wind.
Tremulous, almost incapable of
coherent speech, so intense was his agitation, Cooper Edgecombe sent
many messages to his loved ones, begging for one word in return. And
if nothing less would serve --
His voice choked, and only his
feverishly burning eyes could say the rest.
It was well past sunset ere the
youngsters set forth from the rendezvous, accompanied a short
distance by both Waldo and the professor; but the parting came in
good time. It would be worse than folly to add to the existent perils
that of possible discovery by some prowling Aztec who might work
serious injury to them one and all.
That great bear-hide proved a tax
upon their strength, even though the bullet-riddled head-piece had
been carefully cut off and buried, lest those queer holes tell a
risky tale on close examination; but Ixtli, as well as Bruno, was
upborne by an exaltation such as neither had known before this hour.
There was nothing worse than the
natural obstacles
-233-
in the way to be overcome, and, knowing every square yard of
ground so thoroughly, Ixtli chose the most practicable route to that
hill-encircled town.
The stony pass was followed to the
lower level, and the young adventurers had drawn fairly near the
first buildings ere encountering a living being; and then ample time
was given them for meeting the danger.
A low-voiced call sounded upon the
night air, and Ixtli responded in much the same tone. Bruno, of
course, was utterly in the dark as to what was being said, but he
still held perfect faith in his copper-hued guide, and left all to
the son of Aztotl.
The Aztec brave appeared to be
explaining his unusually protracted absence, for he proudly displayed
the great grizzly pelt, then exhibited the spear-head from which
protruded the tooth-marked wood.
Like one who was already familiar
with the details, Bruno slowly lounged forward a pace or two, then in
silence awaited the pleasure of his companion on that night jaunt.
Ixtli was not many minutes in
shaking off the Indian, and, almost staggering beneath his shaggy
burden, moved away as though in haste to rejoin his family circle.
Fortunately for the venture, the
Aztecans appeared
-234-
to believe in the maxim of going to bed early, for there were
very few individuals astir at that hour, young though the evening
still was. And by the clear moonlight which fell athwart the valley,
it was no difficult task to catch sight before being seen, where eyes
so busy as those of the two young men were concerned.
Only once were they forced to make a
brief detour in order to escape meeting another redskin, and then a
guarded whisper from the lips of the Aztec warned Bruno that they
were almost at the teocalli wherein the Children of the Sun made
their home and abiding-place.
Leaving the grizzly pelt at a
corner, for the time being, Ixtli led his white friend up and into
the Temple of the Sun, pressing a hand by way of added caution.
Although he had declared that an
armed guard was kept night and day over the Sun Children, and that he
hoped to pass Bruno as well as himself without any serious
difficulty, since he had long been a favoured visitor, and ever
welcomed by Victo and Glady, the temple was seemingly without such
protection upon the present occasion.
Ixtli expressed great surprise when
this fact became evident, and he showed uneasiness as to
-235-
the welfare of his beloved patroness and kindly teacher.
Surely something evil was impending!
His father, Aztotl, was chieftain of the guards, and wholly devoted
to the Sun Children, ready at all times to risk life in their behalf.
Now, if the usual guards were lacking, surely it portended evil, --
treachery, no doubt, at the bottom of which the paba and the 'Tzin
almost certainly lurked.
All this Ixtli contrived to convey
to Bruno, who fairly well shared that anxiety, but who was more for
going ahead with a bold rush, to learn the worst as quickly as might
be.
Still, unfamiliar with the
construction of the temple as he was, Bruno felt helpless without his
guide, and so timed his progress by that of Ixtli, right hand tightly
gripping the handle of his "hand-wood," or maquahuitl,
resolved to give a good account of either of those rascally varlets
in case trouble lay ahead.
The unwonted desolation which
appeared to reign on all sides was plainly troubling the Aztec brave,
and he seemed to suspect a cunning ambuscade, judging from his slow
advance, pausing at nearly every step to bend ear in keen listening.
Still, nothing was actually seen or
heard until after the young men reached the upper elevation, upon a
-236-
portion of which the Sun Children had been first sighted by
the air-voyagers.
Here the first sound of human voices
was heard, and Bruno stopped short in obedience to the almost fierce
grip which Ixtli closed upon his nearest arm, listening for a brief
space, then breathing, lowly:
"We see, first. Dat good! Him
see first, dat bad! Eye, ear, two both. You know, brother?"
"You mean that we are to listen
and play spy, first, Ixtli?" asked Bruno, scarcely catching the
real meaning of those hurried words.
"Yes. Dat best. Come; step like
snow falls, brother."
"Who is it, first?"
"Victo, she one. Odder man, not
know sure, but think Huatzin. He bad; all bad! Kill him, some day.
Dat good; plenty good all over!"
This grim vow appeared to do the
Aztec good from a mental point of view, and then he led his white
friend silently towards the covered part of the teocalli, from whence
those sounds emanated.
Curtains of thick stuff served to
shut in the light and to partly smother the sound of voices, but
Ixtli cautiously formed a couple of peepholes of which they quickly
made good use.
A portion of the sacred fire was
burning upon its
-237-
PRINCE HUA AND THE SUN CHILDREN.
-239-
special altar, while a large lamp, formed of baked clay, was
suspended from the roof, shedding a fair light around, as well as
perfuming the enclosure quite agreeably.
Almost directly beneath this
hanging-lamp stood the two Children of the Sun, one tall, stately,
almost queenly of stature, and now looking unusually impressive, as
she seemed to act as shield for her daughter, slighter, more
yielding, but ah, how lovely of face and comely of person!
Even then Bruno could not help
realising those facts, although his ears were tingling sharply with
the harsh accents falling from a far different pair of lips, those of
a tall, muscular warrior whose form was gorgeously arrayed in
featherwork and cunning weaving, rich-hued dyes having been called to
aid the other arts as well.
If this was actually the Prince Hua,
then he was a most brutal sample of Aztecan aristocracy, and at first
sight Gillespie felt a fierce hatred for the harsh-toned chieftain.
As a matter of course, Bruno was
unable to comprehend just what was being said, thanks to his complete
ignorance of the language employed; but he felt morally certain that
ugly threats were passing through those thin lips, and even so soon
his hands
-240-
began to itch and his blood to glow, both urging him to the
rescue.
Swiftly fell the reply made by
Victo, and her words must have stung the prince to the quick, since
he uttered a savage cry, drawing back an arm as though to smite that
proudly beautiful face with his hard-clenched fist.
That proved to be the cap-sheaf, for
Bruno could stand no more. He dashed aside the heavy curtain as he
leaped forward, giving a stern cry as he came, swinging the war club
over his shoulder to strike with all vengeance at the startled and
recoiling Aztecan.
Only the young man's unfamiliarity
with the weapon preserved Prince Hua from certain death. As it was,
he reeled, to fall in a nerveless heap upon the floor, while, with a
startled cry, another Aztec broke away in flight.
-241-
Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII.
A FLIGHT
UNDERGROUND.
THAT sudden appearance and flight of
another man took Ixtli even more by surprise than it did Bruno, for
he never even suspected such a possibility, knowing Prince Hua so
well. Still, the young brave was swift to rally, swift to pursue,
sending a menace of certain death in case the fleeing cur should not
yield himself.
Just then Bruno had eyes and thoughts for the Sun Children alone, who quite naturally shrunk back in mingled surprise and alarm at his unceremonious entrance. He forgot his disguise, forgot everything save that before him stood the fair beings whom he had vowed to save at all hazards from what appeared to him worse by far than actual death.
Gillespie never knew just what words crossed his lips during those first few seconds, but he saw that the women, in place of eagerly accepting his aid, were visibly shrinking, apparently more alarmed than delighted with the opportunity thus offered.
-242-
Doubtless this was caused mainly by
that odd blending of Aztec and paleface, the colour and garb of the
one joined to the tongue of the other; but the result might have been
even worse, had not Ixtli hastened back to clear up more matters than
one.
In spite of his utmost efforts, the
second Indian had escaped with life, although he received a glancing
wound from an arrow, as he plunged down towards the lower level; and
nothing seemed more certain than that an alarm would right speedily
spread throughout the town, if only for the purpose of hurrying
succour to the Lord Hua.
All this rolled in swift words over
Ixtli's lips, his warning finding completion before either of the
women could fairly interrupt the young brave. But then the one whom
Ixtli termed Victo spoke rapidly in his musical tongue, one strong
white hand waving towards the now somewhat embarrassed Gillespie.
"He friend; come save you, like
save Ixtli," the Aztec hurriedly made reply, with generous tact
speaking so that Bruno could comprehend as well as the women. "He
good; all good! Paba bad; 'Tzin more bad; be worse bad if stay here,
Victo -- Glady."
Thus given the proper cue, Bruno
took fresh courage and, in as few words as might be, explained
-243-
his mission. He spoke the name of Cooper Edgecombe, and for
the first time that queenly woman showed signs of weakness,
staggering back with a faint, choking gasp, one hand clasped
spasmodically above her madly throbbing heart, the other rising to
her temples as though in fear of coming insanity.
"He is well; he is safe and
longing for his loved ones," Bruno swiftly added, producing the
brief note which the exiled aeronaut had pressed into his hand at
almost the last moment. "He wrote you that -- here it is, and --
"
"Make hurry, quick!"
sharply interposed Ixtli, as ominous sounds began to arise without
the Temple of the Sun God. "Dog git 'way, howl for more. Come
here -- kill like gods be glad."
With an evident effort Victo
rallied, tones far from steady as she begged both young men to save
themselves without thought of them.
"I thank you; heaven alone
knows how overjoyed I am to hear from my dear husband, -- my poor
child's own father! And he is near, to -- But go, go! Guide and
protect him, Ixtli, for -- Go, I implore you, sir!"
"But how -- we haven't arranged
how you are to be rescued, and I must understand -- "
"Later, then; another time,
through Ixtli," interrupted
-244-
Mrs. Edgecombe, since there could no longer be a doubt as to
her identity. "If found here 'twill be our ruin as well as your
own. Go, and at once I fear that Lord Hua may -- "
"He 'live yet," pronounced
Ixtli, rising from a hasty examination o f the fallen chieftain. "Dat
bad; much more worse bad! He dog; all over dog!"
"And I greatly fear he must
have recognised you as one of a foreign race, in spite of your
disguise," added the elder woman, trouble in her face even as it
showed in her voice. "He will be wild for revenge, and I fear --
Go, and directly, Ixtli!"
Bruno Gillespie was only too well
assured that this latest fear had foundation on truth. Swiftly though
he had wielded the awkward (to him) hand-wood, Huatzin had sufficient
time to sight his assailant, and almost certainly had divined at
least a portion of the truth.
Doubtless it would have been the
more prudent course to repeat that blow with greater precision; but
Bruno could not bring himself to do just that, even though the ugly
cries were growing in volume on the ground level; and he felt that
capture would be but the initial step to death, in all likelihood
upon the great stone of sacrifice.
-245-
Imminent though their peril surely
was, Bruno could not betake himself to flight without at least
partially performing the duty for which he had volunteered; and so he
took time to hurriedly utter:
"Watch from the top of the
tower for the air-ship, and be ready to leave at any moment, I
implore you -- both!"
For even now his admiring gaze could
with difficulty be torn away from yonder younger, even more lovely,
visage; although as yet the maiden had spoken no word, even shrinking
away from this strangely speaking Aztec as though in affright.
"Come, brother, or too late,"
urged Ixtli, almost sternly. "Save you, or Glass-eyes call Ixtli
dog-liar. Come; must run, no fight; too big many for that."
And so it seemed, when the young men
rushed away from the lighted interior and gained the uncovered space
beyond. Loud cries came soaring through the night from different
directions, and dim, phantom-like shapes could be glimpsed in
hurrying confusion.
Apparently the majority only knew
that trouble of some description was brewing, and that the centre of
interest was either in or near the Temple of the Sun God; yet that
was more than sufficient to place the
-246-
white intruder in great peril, despite the elaborate disguise
he wore.
Then with awful abruptness there
came a sound which could only be likened to rolling thunder by one
uninitiated, but which caused Ixtli to shrink and almost cower, ere
gasping:
"The great war-drum! Now must
go! Sacrifice if caught; come, white brother! See, dat more bad now!"
Those mighty throbs rolled and
reverberated from the hills, filling the night air with waves of
thunder, none the less awe-inspiring now that their true import was
realised.
The entire population was aroused,
and each building seemed to cast forth an armed host, while, as
through some magic touch, a circle of fires sprung up on all sides,
beginning to illumine both valley and barrier.
Bruno stood like one appalled,
really fascinated by this transformation scene for which he had been
so poorly prepared; but Ixtli better comprehended their situation,
and gripping an arm he muttered, hastily:
"Come, brother; stop more, make
too late. Must hide, now. Dat stop go back way came. Come!"
-247-
Bruno roused himself with an effort,
then yielded to the Aztec's guidance, crouching low as the brief bit
of clear moonlight had to be traversed.
Instead of making for the steps
which, as customary, reached from terrace to terrace at each corner,
Ixtli crept to the centre, where the temple-side was cast into
deepest shadow, then lowered himself by his arms, to drop silently to
the broad path below.
A whispered word urged Bruno to
imitate this action, and those friendly hands caught and steadied
Gillespie as he took the drop. And so, one after another, the mighty
steps were passed, both young men reaching the ground at the same
instant, having succeeded in leaving the Temple of the Sun God
without being glimpsed by an Indian of all those whom the sonorous
drum-throbs had brought forth In arms.
"Whither now?" asked
Bruno, in guarded tones, as he looked forth from shadow into
moonlight, seeing scores upon scores of armed shapes flitting to and
fro, all looking for the enemy, yet none able to precisely locate the
trouble.
Just then a savage yell broke from
the top of the temple, followed by a few fierce-sounding sentences,
which Ixtli declared came from the Lord Hua, then adding:
-248-
"He say kill if catch, but dat
-- no! Come, white brother. Ixtli show how play fool dat dog; yes!"
"All right, my hearty. Is it a
break for the hills? I reckon I can break through. If not -- well,
I'll leave some marks behind me, anyway!"
"No, no, dat bad! Can't go to
hills; must hide," positively declared the young Aztec. "Come,
now. Me show good place; all dead but we."
Evidently trusting to pass
undetected where so many others were rushing back and forth in
seeming confusion, Ixtli broke away from the shadow of the temple,
closely followed by Gillespie, heading as directly as might be for
the strange refuge which he now had in mind.
That proved to be a low,
unpretending structure which was of no great extent, so far as
Bruno's hasty look could ascertain. Still, that was not the time for
doubting the wisdom of his guide, nor a moment in which to discuss
either methods or means; and as Ixtli passed through a massive
entrance, the paleface followed, giving a little shiver as the
barrier swung to behind them.
"What sort of a place is it,
anyway, Ixtli?" he demanded, but the Aztec was too hurried for
words, just then, save enough to warn his companion in peril that
they must descend deeper into the earth.
-249-
It was more of a scramble than a
deliberate descent, for the gloom was complete, and Bruno had no time
in which to feel for steps or stairs. Only for the aiding touch of
his guide, he must have taken more than one awkward tumble ere that
lower level was attained.
Then a breathing-spell was granted
him, and, while Ixtli bent ear in listening to discover if pursuit
was being made, Bruno drew a match from the liberal supply he had
taken the precaution to fetch along, and, striking it, held aloft the
tiny torch to view their present surroundings.
Only to give an involuntary start
and cry as he caught indistinct glimpses of fleshless bones and
grinning skulls, those grim relics of mortality showing upon every
side as his wild eyes roved around.
Then a hand struck down the match,
and a swift voice breathed:
"Dey come dis way. See us hide
-- come hunt, now, to kill!"
-250-
Chapter 24
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE SUN CHILDREN'S
PERIL.
NOT until the two young men passed
beneath those heavy curtains did either one of the Sun Children
really give thought to their own possible peril, but stood close
together, arm of mother about daughter as they listened to the
ominous sounds without, so rapidly growing in force and number.
Then, just as the deep tones of the war-drum boomed forth upon the night air, the fallen Aztec betrayed signs of rallying wits, giving a low sound which might have been groan of pain or curse of baffled rage. Be that as it may, the sound served one purpose: Victoria Edgecombe (to append her correct name for the first time) drew her child farther away, her right hand reaching forth to pluck a light yet effective spear from where it lay against the wall.
"Mother, mother!" faintly panted the maiden, plainly at a loss to comprehend all that had so recently transpired. "What is it? What does it all mean? Surely that was Ixtli; and -- the other?"
-251-
"A messenger from your father,
child, and -- "
"My father? I thought -- he is
not -- not dead?"
"Thanks be to heaven, not
dead!" with hysterical joy in face as in voice. "Alive, and
seeking us, Gladys! Coming to rescue us from this death in life, and
now -- to your knees, my daughter; to thy knees, and lift thanks unto
the good Father who has at last listened to my moans!"
Again the war-drum boomed forth in
an awesome roll, but all unheeding that ominous sound, paying no
attention to the stirring of yonder savage, whose lacerated scalp was
painting his face a deeper red than even nature intended, mother and
daughter sank to their knees, lifting hands and hearts towards the
All-Powerful, even as their gratitude floated towards the Throne of
Grace.
Then arose the hoarse tones of
Huatzin, bidding his allies find and slay without mercy; cursing the
treacherous Aztec who had thus guided one of a strange tribe into the
very heart of their beloved city.
With a short, fierce ejaculation,
Victo sprang to her feet, right hand once again grasping shaft of
javelin, its copper point gleaming ruddily in the rays of lamp as
though already moistened by the heart-blood of yonder villain.
-252-
Far differently acted the maiden,
her figure trembling with fear and wonder commingled, her lips
slightly blanched as she clung closer to her mother. Yet through all
ran a touch of girlish curiosity which helped shape the words now
crossing her lips.
"Who was it, mother? Who could
the stranger be? And whither has he gone?"
"With Ixtli, my child, and may
the good God of our own people grant them both life and liberty! If I
thought -- your father, Gladys! Alive and looking for his beloved
ones! See! from his own dear hand, and he says -- Hold! who comes
there?"
But the alarm appeared to be without
actual foundation, for the sounds came no closer, remaining beyond
the drapery past which Lord Hua had staggered only a few brief
seconds before.
Gladys rallied more speedily than
one might have expected, and she spoke with even greater interest
than at first.
"My dear father, and alive? Oh,
mother, why is he not here to -- why should he send another? And that
one -- he spoke our dear language, mother; surely he is not -- not as
Ixtli?"
"No; he was of our own people,
child, and I can hardly conceive how he came hither, save that Ixtli
must have acted as guide."
-253-
"And those awful warriors!"
shivering as the war-cries followed the muffled roar of the great
drum. "If found, he will be slain! Do you think there is any
hope for him, mother? And he seemed so -- so -- "
"He is gone with Ixtli, and
Ixtli is true to the very core," Victo hastened to give
assurance. "I would rather trust him than many another of thrice
his years and warlike experience. Ixtli is true; ay, as true and
tried as his father, Aztotl!"
"Who loves you, mother, and
would win -- "
"Hush, child!" just a bit
sharply interposed the elder woman, yet at the same time tightening
that loving clasp. "Merely as the daughter of his Sun God,
Quetzalcoatl, and -- ha!"
Once again there came the echoes of
rapid foot-falls beyond the heavy draperies, and again this Amazonian
mother drew her superb form in front of her shrinking child, poising
the javelin in readiness for stroke or casting, as might serve best.
A strong arm brushed the curtains
aside sufficiently to admit its owner's passage, but the armed
warrior stopped short at sighting the Sun Children, his proud head
lowering, hands crossing over his broad bosom in token of adoration,
-- for it surely was more than mere submission to one held his
superior.
-254-
With a low cry, Victo drew back a
bit, weapon lowering as she recognised friend in place of enemy.
"It is you, Aztotl?" she
spoke, in mellow tones. "I thought -- did you remove the usual
guards, this evening?"
"The blame falls to my share,
Sun Child," the Red Heron made answer, with a meekness strange
in one of his build and general appearance, that of a king among
ordinary warriors.
"Not justly, nor through fault
of your own, my good and true friend," the elder woman made
haste to give assurance. "Not even thy lips shall speak slander
of Aztotl the True-heart, my brother."
With a swift advance the Red Heron
caught the unarmed hand, to bend over it until his lips barely
brushed the soft, perfumed skin. Then he sank to one knee, bowing his
head until his brow touched the floor beneath her sandalled feet.
Swiftly, gracefully, these movements
were made, and where they would have appeared fulsome or degraded in
some, with this warrior the effect was far from disagreeable to see
or to experience.
Victo flushed warmly and drew back a
little farther, for the memory of those words let fall by Gladys came
back with unpleasant distinctness. And was
-255-
she so certain that Aztotl looked upon her as merely a
god-descended priestess?
The Red Heron arose easily, head
rising proudly above his shapely shoulders as he met those great blue
eyes, -- eyes as pure and as fathomless as the cloudless sky in
midsummer.
And then, more like one giving a
bare statement of facts than one offering a defence for himself,
Aztotl spoke of a faithless subordinate, who was guilty of either
careless neglect, or worse.
"It may be that Tezcatl lost
his wits through strong waters, Sun Child, or even that he took evil
pay from still more vile hands. You have seen the last of him,
though, Child of Quetzal'l."
"You surely do not mean that --
"
Aztotl lightly tapped the knife-hilt
showing above his maxtlatl, coldly adding words to that
significant gesture:
"There is no place for fool or
traitor upon the body-guard of the Sun Children. Tezcatl sinned; he
has paid full forfeit. And just so shall all others perish who dare
cast an evil glance towards -- ha!"
Another outcry arose from the other
side of the curtained recess, and the Red Heron instantly sprang away
in that direction, hands gripping weapons in readiness for instant
use in case of need.
-256-
Almost as swiftly, Victo and the
maiden followed, one through fear, the other through utter lack of
fear, for herself.
Those savage cries came from the
lips of none other than the chieftain whose now bare head bore
significant traces of Bruno Gillespie's handiwork, and he seemed bent
on rushing directly into the presence of the Sun Children, until Red
Heron interposed, stern and icy-toned:
"Stand back, my Lord Hua!"
he ordered, left hand advanced with open palm, but its dexter mate
armed and ready for hot work if that must come. "Venture no
closer, on thy peril, chief!"
Huatzin recoiled a bit, though that
might have been more through surprise than because he feared this
proud warrior. He gripped his knife-hilt, and partly drew the blade
from its supporting sash. A hissing oath escaped his lips, and he
crouched a trifle, as a wild beast gathers its deadliest force prior
to making a death leap.
"Darest thou bar my path,
Aztotl?" he cried, hoarsely. "Make way, I bid thee; make
way, for I will see the Sun Children and -- "
"Not so, my Lord Hua,"
coldly interrupted the master of guards, that warning palm still
turned to the front. "You are here without law or leave,
-257-
and know what the edict says: from the going to the return of
the sun, these stones are sacred from all feet save those of the Sun
Children and their regular body-guard."
"What care I for laws? Or for
such as thou, Red Heron? I will that such a thing shall be, and it
comes to pass. And -- thou dare to bar my way, Aztotl?"
"Ay. By words if they prove
sufficient. By force if called for. By death if worst must come; even
the death of a mighty chieftain like Lord Hua would not be too great
a feat."
For a brief space it seemed as
though Huatzin would make a leap to which there could be but one
termination, death to one or to both. But Aztotl coldly spoke on:
"I have given you fair and
friendly warning, Lord Hua. Go, now, while the path of peace lies
open. Go, else I sound the call, and my guard will take you in
charge, just as they would any other rascally intruder."
"Your precious son, for
instance?" retorted the 'Tzin, viciously. "He came with one
whom -- one of a different race from our own, Aztotl! A traitor in
thy own family, yet thou darest hint at -- "
Aztotl lifted a bent finger to his
lips, sounding a
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shrill, far-penetrating whistle. The response was prompt
indeed, an armed force advancing with weapons held ready, awaiting
only word from commander to punish that rash intruder by hurling him
to death over the terraces.
Although nearly beside himself with
fury, Huatzin glared defiance at both guard and its commander, then
turned more directly upon the Sun Children, speaking in savage tones:
"Unto you, proud Victo, I'll
either win you as my -- "
"Go on, Lord Hua," coldly
spoke the woman, as his voice choked.
"I'll win and wear you as my
squaw, or else give you to the stone of sacrifice!" he snarled,
then turned away as Aztotl motioned his guards to clear the temple of
all intruders, then see that none other dared enter.
-259-
Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV.
WALDO GOES FISHING.
IT was with stronger forebodings
than he dared acknowledge even to himself, that Professor Featherwit
watched the two young men out of sight in the early gloom, and
scarcely had his nephew passed beyond hearing than uncle Phaeton
would gladly have recalled Bruno.
Waldo made light of all fears, prophesying complete success, and even going so far as to predict Bruno's return accompanied by the Children of the Sun; enthusiastic words which set the exile to trembling with excess of joy and anticipation.
What, then, was the blank dismay of all when, floating through the night, came the hollow throbbing of yonder mighty war-drum, fetching each person to his feet and holding him spellbound for the first few seconds.
Cooper Edgecombe turned sick at heart, even while ignorant as to the method of sending forth that alarm, his hollow groan being the first sound to
-260-
follow the simultaneous exclamation which burst from three
pairs of lips as the surprise came. And but a breath later Waldo
broke forth with the excited query:
"What is it? What's broken
loose now? Surely -- thunder?"
Only Professor Phaeton at once
recognised the sound, through description, and each one of those
swiftly succeeding strokes seemed falling upon his heart, bidding him
mourn for his beloved nephew, upon whom his aged eyes had surely
looked their last in this life!
Yet it was the professor who took
prompt action, speaking sharply as he darted across to where the
air-ship rested:
"Come; get aboard, and let us
do what lies in our power. It was criminal to send the poor lad into
the jaws of death, but now -- hasten, there may be a chance, even
yet!"
The call was still hot upon his lips
when his two companions entered the aerostat, gripping tight the
hand-rail as Professor Featherwit sent the vessel afloat with
reckless haste. As by a miracle they escaped disaster through rushing
into a bushy treetop, and that fact served to steady the aeronaut's
nerves.
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"On guard, uncle Phaeton!"
cried Waldo, making a lucky snatch at his cap, which one of the stiff
boughs brushed off his head.
"Ay, ay, lad," responded
the man at the guiding-gear, as the air-ship shot onward and upward,
now heading, as directly as was practicable, for the Lost City of the
Aztecs. "That was the very lesson I needed. I am steady of
nerve, now, and will show no lack, -- heaven grant that we may not be
for ever too late, though!"
"What do you reckon could have
kicked up such a bobbery, uncle? And what -- ugh!" as the
wardrum's throbbings again swelled forth in grim alarm. "What in
time is that, anyway?"
As briefly as might be, the
professor explained, and almost for the first time Waldo felt a
thrill of dread.
"If they've got Bruno, what
will they do with him?"
That very dread was worrying uncle
Phaeton, and already through his busy brain were flashing horrid
pictures of punishment and sacrifice, of hideous scenes of torture,
wherein the eldest son of his dead sister played a prominent role,
perforce.
He dared not trust his tongue to
make answer, just then, and sent the aeromotor onward at top
-262-
speed, leaning far forward to win the earliest glimpse of --
what?
He caught sight of blazing beacons
fairly encircling the Lost City, forming a cordon through which no
stranger could hope to pass unseen. He beheld hundreds of armed
shapes rushing to and fro, plainly looking for some intruder or other
enemy, yet almost as certainly failing as yet to make the longed-for
discovery.
Not until that moment had uncle
Phaeton dared indulge in even the shadow of a hope. The awful alarm
seemed proof conclusive that poor Bruno had been taken, through the
treachery of Ixtli.
Naturally enough, that was his first
belief, but now, as the air-ship slackened pace to circle more
deliberately above the valley, all eyes on the eager watch for either
Bruno or something to hint at his fate, Professor Featherwit lost a
portion of that conviction.
If Bruno had indeed fallen victim to
misplaced confidence, and had been craftily lured into this den of
ravening wild beasts, why all this confusion and mad skurry? Why had
not the traitor first made sure of his victim? Why such a general
alarm?
Although such haste in getting
afloat had been made, some little time had been thus consumed, and,
-263-
before the aerostat was fairly above the Lost City, Bruno and
Ixtli had dropped by stages down the shadowed side of the Temple of
the Sun God, to burrow underneath the ground as their surest method
of eluding pursuit.
Only for that, the end might have
been different, for, once sighted, Gillespie would have been rescued
by his friends, or those friends would surely have shared death with
him.
And so it came to pass that, circle
though they might, calling ears to supplement their eyes, swooping
perilously low down in their fierce eagerness to sight their
imperilled one, never a glimpse of the young man could they obtain,
nor even a definite hint as to where next to look for him.
"Surely they cannot have
captured Bruno, as yet?" huskily muttered uncle Phaeton,
hungrily straining his eyes without reward. "If the poor boy had
actually fallen into such evil hands, why such crazy confusion? Why
-- oh, why did I permit his coaxings to overpower my better judgment?
Why did I send him into -- "
The words stuck in his throat and
refused to issue. Phaeton Featherwit just then felt himself little
less than a cold-blooded assassin.
Mr. Edgecombe was but little less
deeply stirred,
-264-
although his feelings were more of a mixture. He grieved for
Bruno, and would willingly risk his life in hopes of doing the young
man a service, yet his gaze was drawn far more frequently towards
yonder temple, on the top of which he had -- surely he had
caught sight of his wife, his daughter!
"Let me down and try to find
him," he eagerly begged, as one might plead for a great boon. "I
promise to save him if yet alive, and -- let me try, professor; I beg
of you, give me this chance to show my heartfelt gratitude."
But Professor Featherwit shook his
head in negation.
"That would only add to our
trouble, friend. Knowing nothing of the dialect, you would be wholly
at a loss. And, looking so entirely different in every respect, how
could you hope to pass inspection?"
"All seems so confused, that I
might -- surely it is worth trying."
"It would be suicidal, so say
no more on that score," almost harshly spoke the usually
mild-mannered aeronaut, sending his vessel upon another circuit, only
with stern vigilance choking back the appealing shout to his lost
nephew.
This time the aerostat was brought
directly above the Temple of the Sun, where there appeared to be
-265-
some unusual disturbance, a number of armed guards fairly
driving a gaily arrayed Indian down to the lower levels, and that
greatly against his inclinations, judging from the harsh cries and
ringing threats which burst from his lips.
Recognising the building, and unable
to hold his intense emotions longer under stern control, Cooper
Edgecombe called aloud the names of his wife and daughter, begging
that they might come to him; but then the air-ship was sent onward
and upward, with a dizzying swoop, and Professor Featherwit gripped
an arm, sternly speaking:
"Quiet, sir! Another outbreak
like that and I'll lock your lips, if I have to send a bullet through
your mad brain!"
"I forgot. I could not wait
longer, knowing that my loved ones -- "
"You forgot that the lives of
all depend upon our remaining at liberty," coldly interrupted
Featherwit. "Without this means of conveyance, how can your
loved ones escape? Now, your solemn pledge to maintain utter silence,
or I will take you back to yonder wilderness, leaving you to shift
for yourself as best you can. Promise, sir!"
"I will, -- I do. Forgive me,
for I was carried away by -- 'twas there I saw -- after so many
horrible
-266-
years!" huskily muttered the exile, fairly cowering
there, before his saviour from the whirlpool.
"Enough; bear in mind that the
rescue of your loved ones depend on our efforts. If discovered by
yonder snarling beasts, and the machine is injured, -- farewell, all
hopes! Now, quiet, and look for Bruno!"
Again the air-ship circled over the
valley, in spite of the moonlight passing wholly unseen and
unsuspected by the Aztecs, whose energies were bent on ferreting out
mortal foes, not demons of the upper world.
Waldo leaned farther over the
hand-rail as they floated closer to an excited group of warriors, the
central figure being Lord Hua himself, fiercely denouncing Aztotl and
his son, Ixtli, as traitors to the common welfare, and calling upon
all honest braves to mete forth befitting punishment.
Professor Featherwit caught one name
indistinctly; that of the young Aztec in whose company Bruno had set
forth on his ill-starred venture; and hoping to learn more of
importance, he caused the aerostat to hover directly above that
particular group of redskins.
Waldo, never stopping to count the
risk he might thus fetch upon them all, silently lowered the grapnel,
by means of the drag-rope, giving a boyish
-267-
chuckle as the three-pronged hook descended amidst that
gathering, the sight causing more than one superstitious brave to
leap aside, with cries of amazed affright.
The air-ship gave a sudden swoop,
and the grapnel caught Huatzin by his girdle, jerking him fairly off
his feet, and swinging him into air, pretty much as a youngster might
land a writhing fish. But no fish ever sent forth so wild a screech
of mingled rage and terror as split the air just then.
Although hardly realising what was
happening, Professor Featherwit sent the aeromotor upward with a
mighty jerk. The shock proving too much for that sash, Lord Hua fell
back to earth, literally biting the dust, although he met with no
bodily harm beyond sundry bruises.
"Caught a sucker, and -- I'll
never do it again, uncle!" exploded Waldo, as he swiftly hauled
in his novel fish-line; but he had to take a severe lecture from the
professor before the subject was finally dropped.
And, worse than all else, the
air-demon was now the target for both eyes and arrows, and, perforce,
sailed swiftly away into the night.
-268-
Chapter 26
CHAPTER XXVI.
DOWN AMONG THE
DEAD.
IXTLI spoke with a degree of
earnestness which left no room for doubt, even if the young man's own
keen sense of hearing had not given warning but an instant later.
Ominous sounds came from the entrance, which had served them but so brief a time gone by, and Bruno knew that, even if they had escaped being seen while thus attempting to win such a gruesome refuge, the possibility of their having elected just such a line of flight had occurred to some of the redskins.
Gillespie heard the heavy doors open, then clang to again. He was fairly confident that some of the Aztecs had entered, although as yet the utter darkness hindered further recognition.
"What next, Ixtli?" he whispered, lips almost touching the face of his young guide, as they stood close together in the mirk. "They can't take me alive! Is it fight, or -- "
-269-
"No fight yet," gently
breathed the Aztec in turn. "Dey look, dat not make sure find.
Dey try see; we try not see all time. Dey come, we go, -- like dis!"
Catching a hand within his own
clasp, Ixtli led Bruno away in that utter darkness, seemingly well
acquainted with the lay of the ground, although it quickly became
evident that there must be more than one direct passage. Bruno felt
convinced that there were other chambers turning at right angles to
their present course, though it might have bothered the young man to
give entirely satisfactory reasons for such belief.
Ixtli did not flee fast nor far, in
that first spurt, pausing shortly to turn face towards the rear, a
low, musical chuckle coming through his lips.
"Dey come look, got no eyes for
see in dark," he explained, barely loud enough for Bruno to
catch his meaning. "We play fool dem all; dat be fun; heap fun
all time over!"
Ixtli was scarcely as precise of
speech while under the influence of excitement as when he had ample
time in which to pick and choose his words; but there was little room
for mistaking his meaning, which, after all, is fairly sufficient.
But this time the young brave was in
error, for only
-270-
a few moments later both fugitives caught sight of a dim light
in hurried motion far towards the entrance to these underground
crypts. That warned them of added peril, and Ixtli's chuckle died
abruptly away.
"They'll fetch us now,"
grimly muttered Bruno, shaking his fairly athletic shoulders and
fingering the knife at his belt as though making preparations for an
inevitable struggle. "All right. They may kill, but I'll furnish
some red paint for my tombstone, anyway!"
It may be doubted whether Ixtli
fully appreciated this conclusion, yet he divined something of what
was spoken, and made swift response:
"No kill yet. Dey look, we
hide. Mebbe not find. Mebbe play fool all over -- yes!"
"Where can we hide that lights
won't ferret us out, though? If a fellow might only have the same
advantage; here in this darkness I'm not worth a sick kitten!"
Just a bit disgustedly came the
words, but Bruno was not giving over in weak despair. No matter how
vast the odds might show against him, he would put up a gallant fight
as long as he could lift his hand or strike a blow.
Still, he was by no means anxious
for the crisis to
-271-
arrive. He would far rather run than fight, under existing
circumstances; but whither, and how?
Ixtli took it upon himself to solve
the perplexing enigma, in a whisper bidding his white brother follow
with as little sound as might be, once more hurrying away through the
gloomy blackness, which was by no means rendered more agreeable to
Bruno by that fleeting glimpse of the dead men's bones.
There was little room left for
doubting the truth. Their presence in the death-cells surely was more
than suspected, judging from the actions of yonder redskins, who
flashed the light over and into each angle and corner, each niche and
jog, where a human being might possibly seek concealment.
They were not so many in number, but
still a larger force than could well be met with success by two
youths, even granting that Ixtli would turn lethal weapons against
his own people, which Bruno felt was by no means a settled fact.
For some little time the young men
kept without that limited circle of light, watching each movement
made by the searchers, and at the same time taking care that none of
the little party stole a dangerous march upon them by hastening in
advance of the lights.
Ixtli apparently enjoyed the affair,
much as a child might a successful game of I-spy, for he emitted
-272-
occasional chuckles, and let fall soft whispers which, if
caught by other ears, certainly would not have deeply benefited the
fugitives when captured.
Thanks to that slow progress,
rendered thus by the care and minuteness of the search, Bruno began
to marvel at the extent of the catacombs, and almost involuntarily
calculate how many centuries it must have taken to accumulate such
enormous quantities of remains. For, thanks to yonder prying light,
he could see how high those grim relics of perishing mortality were
piled up in tiers, with here and there upright skeletons in position
of greater prominence.
Perhaps Gillespie might have been
better able to appreciate Ixtli's amusement had he even an inkling as
to how this game of hide-and-go-seek was fated to end. That an end
must come, eventually, was a foregone conclusion. And then?
He ventured to ask Ixtli how they
were to escape detection when they could retreat no farther, but
before an answer could be fairly shaped, that end seemed actually
upon them.
Without sound or warning of any
sort, another bright light showed at a considerable distance in the
opposite direction, and, as Bruno stared that way, he made out
several armed warriors who appeared to
-273-
be engaged in that same occupation: searching that city of the
dead for the living!
Thus caught between two fires, there
seemed only one course to pursue, and, with the courage of his
fathers, Bruno spoke in low, grim tones to his young guide:
"No use for you to join in the
mix, Ixtli. I'll do the best I know how, but if I can't make the
riffle, if I go down for good and all, I ask you to convey the news
to my friends. You will?"
But Ixtli was not at the end of his
resources, and gripping a wrist, he urged Bruno towards yonder second
light, speaking hastily as they moved along towards the edge of that
wide passage. No fight, yet. Best hide; mebbe no find; dat best try
first. Den Ixtli fight like white brother, -- fast!"
There was time for scant speech, for
just then the two parties seemed, for the first time, to catch sight
of each other, and while the brave bearing the rude lantern still
maintained his slow movements, searching well as he came, the other
Indians came in advance, giving the fugitives barely time in which to
crouch down under temporary cover.
The moment these enemies had passed
them by, Ixtli urged Bruno on, then, in swift whispers, instructed
-274-
him how to perfect his hiding, even aiding the young paleface
into one of the upright crypts, back of a grim skeleton, the
mouldering blankets assisting in covering the one of flesh and blood.
After like fashion, the Aztec sought
cover on the opposite side of the passage. None too quickly, either;
for now the single searcher drew dangerously nigh, peering into every
practicable hiding-place on either side, before moving onward.
Little by little he drew closer,
while the other band of searchers apparently turned off into a side
passage, or large chamber, since nothing could be seen or heard of
them by the fugitives.
In all probability, Ixtli's bold
ruse would have proved a complete success, for the Aztec warrior
showed no suspicion as he drew nearer; but it was not to be thus.
Fairly holding his breath, lest he
disturb some of the dry bones immediately in front of himself, Bruno
waited and hoped, only to feel his blood chill, and his heart fail
him, as a sickening horror crept over his brain; nor was that the
only creeping thing, -- worse luck!
Past all room for doubting, his
entrance into that crypt had disturbed the repose of a snake of some
description; for now he could feel the loathsome
-275-
reptile crawling slowly up his back, turning the skin beneath
to scorching ice in its horrid passage.
One horrible nightmare minute that
lasted, then the serpent paused upon his shoulder and biceps,
touching his cheek with nose, then drawing back its ugly head to give
an ominous hiss.
Human flesh and blood could endure
no more, and Bruno flung the snake violently off, striking forcibly
against that mass of dry bones as he did so. With a rattling clatter,
the skeleton lost its frail coherence and tumbled outward, leaving
Bruno fairly exposed within the niche.
With a cry the Aztec warrior turned
in that direction, but ere he could fetch his light to bear upon the
right spot, Ixtli sprung forth to the rescue, hooting like a
frightened owl, as he dashed the light to earth, and, at the same
time, deftly tripping the Indian headlong.
Swift as thought itself he followed
up the advantage thus won, smiting the fallen brave heavily upon the
crown with a clubbed thighbone, depriving him of sensibility for the
time being at least. And then snatching up the still burning light,
he called, in guarded tones, to his white friend:
"Come, brother, play hunt, now!
Fast -- not
-276-
stop here; dat bad for you see by dem so soon. Dat good you go
-- like dis way!"
Scarcely realising just what fresh
ruse the Aztec had in mind, but far from recovered from that horrible
fear of death from poisonous fangs, Gillespie submitted, Ixtli
hurrying him away, turning off into what appeared to be a side
passage, less spacious than that to which they had until then
confined their retreat.
The young Aztec hastily explained
his present scheme, which was to play the role of searchers as well;
and scarcely had he made that project known, than another difficult
test was offered their courage.
-277-
Chapter 27
CHAPTER XXVII.
PENETRATING GRIM
SECRETS.
BRUNO caught an imperfect view of
moving figures at no great distance ahead, but ere he could fairly
decide just what they might be, his red-skinned guide swiftly
whispered:
"More come look. You don't say. Ixtli fool 'em -- easy!"
Making not the slightest attempt to avoid the issue, the young Aztec stepped a little in advance of Gillespie, thus casting him into partial eclipse, speaking briskly, as he met the two Indians, only one of whom bore a light:
"It is trouble for nothing, brothers. There is no sign here. If he saw aught, 'twas in a dream, I think. And now -- hark!"
Even there in the subterranean recesses something of the wildly excited uproar which followed Waldo's rash attempt to go a-fishing after his fellow men, and the sighting of that awful air-demon by the Indians, could be heard, and, without divining
-278-
its actual import, Ixtli adroitly turned it to his own
advantage.
"They have found the strange
dog without!" he cried, sharply. "Come, my brothers, else
we will be too late for -- hasten, all!"
But only one-half of the present
group obeyed, the two Indians dashing at full speed towards the main
entrance to the city of the dead, leaving Bruno behind, wholly
unsuspected, and Ixtli chuckling glee- fully over the favourable
change in the situation.
"Dey go -- we come. Dis way,
brother," the Aztec spoke, moving in the opposite direction,
followed willingly enough by the now pretty well bewildered paleface.
"Whither are we going?"
Bruno felt impelled to ask, after a few moments more of blind
obedience. "How are we going to get out? And my friends, -- they
must have been alarmed by that great drum!"
Ixtli made response by touch rather
than in words, and, giving his companion barely time sufficient to
read aright that look of warning, he extinguished the light, leaving
themselves in complete darkness.
Naturally anticipating fresh danger,
Bruno strained his ears to catch at least an inkling of its precise
nature ere the trouble could fairly close in; but only
-279-
silence surrounded them, -- silence, and an almost palpable
gloom.
"Not cat," assured Ixtli,
in a soft-toned whisper, as he divined the expectations entertained
by his comrade in peril. "Nobody come, now. All gone see what
noise 'bout, yonder. You, me, all right. Best mek no big talk, dough.
Come -- see!"
Apparently the young Aztec found it
no easy matter to elect words which should fairly convey his desired
meaning, and, abruptly giving over the effort, he moved on, one hand
lightly closed upon Bruno's wrist to guard against possible
separation in that utter darkness.
Nothing further was said until Ixtli
again came to a halt, Gillespie giving a low exclamation as he felt
what appeared to be a blank wall before them. Was this no
thoroughfare? Were they blocked in, to perish of starvation, unless
earlier discovered by the red-skinned searchers?
Far from agreeable thoughts, yet
such swiftly flashed across the young man's brain, lending an echo of
harshness to his voice as he spoke.
"Where are we now, Ixtli? How
are we going to get out of this? If you have led me into a trap -- "
Finger-tips lightly brushed his
lips, then the Aztec
-280-
explained as well he was able, thanks to his limited
vocabulary.
Escape from the catacomb by the same
route they had taken in seeking refuge there was entirely out of the
question. Even though the redskins might have abandoned the search in
that precise quarter for the time being, thanks to the sudden alarm
which had broken forth in the valley, almost certainly there would be
an armed guard so stationed as to intercept any or all persons who
might so attempt to emerge.
This much Bruno gathered, then took
his turn at the verbal oars.
"But we can't stay here, man,
dear. Nothing to eat or to drink, and my friends worrying over us,
outside. We've got to get out; I have, at any rate. The only question
is, just how, and where?"
"Dere one way go," Ixtli
made reply, even his lowered tones betraying more than ordinary
impressiveness, Bruno fancied. "Mebbe easy, mebbe hard. Find
dat, when try. We go dis way. Best be still, dough!"
Bruno was ready enough to promise
all that, just so action was being taken, his uneasiness being by far
too deep for rest or repose. More on account of his uncle and his
brother, though, than for his own safety. He had not yet lost hope of
extrication
-281-
from the perils which surely surrounded them, not quite
abandoned hope of rescuing the Children of the Sun as well.
Turning abruptly to the left, Ixtli
led the way into what appeared (through the senses of touch and
hearing) to be a narrow, winding tunnel, which presently took an
upward incline, then broadened into a chamber of greater or lesser
dimensions; the faint echoes told Gillespie there was an enlargement
of some description, but the utter darkness veiled all else.
Barely had the two adventurous
youths come to a pause, than dull, uncertain sounds came from almost
directly above their heads; and, after listening for a brief space,
Ixtli disappointedly breathed a fear that they would have to wait for
the time being.
"Why? What's going on up
yonder? And where are we, anyway?"
Beneath the great teocalli, Ixtli
made answer in his disjointed way of speaking. There the evil-minded
paba, Tlacopa, reigned supreme. And there, almost directly above
their heads, stood the sacrificial stone, upon whose flat surface the
Sun Children would be doomed to suffer the last penalty, provided
Tlacopa won his wicked will.
Bruno thrilled to his centre with
fierce indignation
-282-
as he, little by little, gathered this information. Perish by
such hideous methods? Give up her fair young life --
For, rather queerly, considering
that Ixtli spoke of both Victo and Glady, he now had thought of --
could see but that one lovely face and shrinking figure, -- face and
form of the daughter alone.
Discovery might have come all too
soon, but for Ixtli's slipping a palm over those indignant lips and
thus smothering the outbreak which the young man could not avoid;
then, recalled to ordinary prudence, Bruno talked and listened by
turns.
Ixtli contrived to make his white
brother understand just how they were situated at the time: in a
secret channel of communication with the great war temple, through
which sanctuary he had hoped to lead his friend, thence to escape
from the valley itself, if a favourable chance should offer. Now
their way was barred, and they could only wait. Unless -- would Bruno
keep close guard over his tongue?
Yes. Anything, rather than remain
wholly idle, like this.
Adding a few minor cautions, Ixtli
took Gillespie by a wrist, and stole noiselessly forward, climbing
upward, over and into a contrivance which Bruno
-283-
vainly sought to recognise by the sense of touch, but giving a
thrill of amazement when his guide paused long enough to whisper in
his nearest ear:
"Dis war-god body. Stand up in
teocalli, look on kill-stone. Wait; you see, hear, all dat, now!"
Thanks to the close association of
that night, with all its attendant perils, Bruno was growing fairly
skilful in interpreting the broken sentences of his copper-hued chum,
and he now knew they were moving about within the hollow image of the
Aztecan war-god, Huitzilopochtli, while --
He caught sight of several small
apertures, through which yellow light came dimly, and, almost without
thinking, applied his eyes to the one most convenient, peering forth
upon the broad sacrificial stone, with its foul, blood-stained
surface, the little channels intended to drain off the superfluous
hemorrhage, together with the gloomy, repulsive surroundings. And,
too, a most abominable stench appeared to rise from the altar of
death, and Bruno shrunk back with a shiver of disgust.
"No talk loud!" softly
breathed Ixtli, gripping an arm with force. "Dey kill, if find
now. Look, dat one Tlacopa; big priest, you call. Dem help
paba fool all people; so!"
Although his meaning was not fully
apparent,
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Bruno caught renewed interest, and once more peered forth upon
the scene, weird and impressive enough, even from a Christian point
of view.
Headed by Tlacopa, a ceremony of
some description was taking place, lesser priests and other acolytes
performing their various parts, the incantations rising now loudly,
now sinking to a hollow monotone, the whole affair being none the
less absorbing when Bruno remembered that, perhaps, it might have
some connection with the vile plots against the Sun Children, if not
endangering life itself.
Gillespie likewise took note of
various other graven images; among them one of the not less hideous
war-goddess, Teoyaomiqui, or "divine war death," fitting
consort for the mighty "humming-bird" himself.
Meanwhile, Ixtli, who appeared to
look upon the whole affair as a more or less jolly good jest at the
expense of his superstitious people, took occasion to give his white
brother a few pointers, letting him see how easy it was for false
oracles to be manufactured to order; how certain the lightest wishes
of the head priest were to find speedy fulfilment at all times.
While thus divulging part of the
mysteries of the temple, that ceremony reached a finale, and the
little
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crowd slowly melted away, leaving but Tlacopa and a select few
of his trusted henchman. And Ixtli certainly caught enough of their
talk to alter his manner most materially.
"Come, quick!" he fiercely
whispered in Bruno's ear, gripping an arm, and fairly forcing the
young man to accompany his retreat.
Not another word was spoken before
the lower level was reached, and then Gillespie broke the ice, asking
what was the matter.
Dark though it was all around them,
Bruno could tell by sense of touch that his guide was powerfully
agitated, and, though Ixtli clearly hesitated before imparting the
asked-for information, persistence won the point; and then --
Imperfectly though that discovery
was set forth, Gillespie contrived to gather this much: Tlacopa
decreed that the Sun Children should be brought to trial, if not to
actual execution, when the morning sun arose!
"Never!" fiercely vowed
Bruno, all on fire, as he recalled that more than fair face. "Never,
-- while I live and draw breath!"
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Chapter 28
CHAPTER XXVIII.
BROUGHT BEFORE
THE GODS.
ONCE again Aztotl, the Red Heron,
was bowing humbly before the Children of the Sun God, but now there
was stern grief impressed upon his visage, rather than pure devotion,
such as one might feel at the feet of a divinity.
And the face of Victo was unusually pale, her lips tightly compressed to keep them from trembling too visibly, while her arm clasped Gladys with almost fierce love in its warm strength.
Aztotl glanced upwards for a moment, then slowly spoke:
"Such are the commands laid upon thy captain of guards, Daughter of Quetzal', the Fair God. He hath been commanded to fetch Victo and Glady to the teocalli, there to be -- no!" with an outbreak of fierce rebellion, drawing his superb figure erect, and gripping javelin until the springy ash quivered, as though suddenly winning life for itself. "The gods lie! They are speaking falsely, or -- or the paba lies, when trying to thus interpret the oracle!"
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Gladys shrunk away, but her mother
stood firm, seeming to gain in coolness and nerve what this ardent
servant was losing.
"It must be thus, my good
friend," she spoke, in low, even tones. "The word hath come
to a soldier, and obedience is his first duty."
"Not when obedience means
leading to sacrifice -- "
"That may never come, good
Aztotl. We have committed no sin, in deed or in thought. The Mother
of Gods will not lay claim to an innocent victim. Or, even then, the
right shall triumph! Tlacopa is powerful, but hath Victo no
influence? Lord Hua may throw his influence to the wrong side,
but hath truth no answer?"
"If not truth, then death!"
sternly vowed the captain of the body-guard. "If Tonatiuh fails
to punish the enemies of his daughter, then this right arm shall hurl
the false prince down to Mictlanteuctli, grim lord of the
under-world!"
"What is it all about, mother?"
murmured Gladys, clinging in sore affright to the side of her
Amazonian relative. "Surely the people will not -- surely we
need not go forth to -- "
A mother's kiss closed those
quivering lips, and then, with far more assurance than she really
could
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find in her heart, Victoria bade her child fear nothing; that
all would come aright in a brief while.
Little by little, the maiden's
terrors were calmed, and then she took position by her parent's side
with a greater display of nerve than might have been anticipated.
Through all, Aztotl waited, fiercely
silent, held from open rebellion only by the influence of the woman
whose very life was now menaced. And as the Sun Children stood before
him, in readiness to comply with the commands issued by those in high
authority, the Red Heron broke bonds.
"Say but one word, Daughter of
Quetzal', and all this shall never come to pass! Give me but
permission to -- "
"What wouldst thou do, good
Aztotl?"
"Surround the Sun Children with
their loyal body-guard and defend them, while one brave might strike
blow, or hold shield in front of their sacred charge," slowly
yet fiercely declared the captain, eyes telling how dearly he longed
to receive that permission.
But Victo shook her head in slow
negation. She was still cool of brain enough to realise how fatal
such course would be in the end. If one deadly blow should be dealt,
the end could be but one, -- annihilation to both defended and
defenders.
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Then, too, she recalled the wondrous
tidings brought the evening before by Ixtli and his comrade. Friends
were seeking to rescue them, and if only time might be won -- it must
be played for, then!
And so, his petition finally denied,
with no other course left open to take, the Red Heron summoned his
picked band and, with the Sun Children in their midst, left the
temple, crossed the plain, and slowly marched into the War God's
teocalli.
In awed silence a vast number of
Aztecs followed that little procession, silent as they, yet clearly
anticipating events of far more than ordinary importance. And thus
the foredoomed women were taken before the great stone of sacrifice,
whereupon lay a snow-white lamb, bound past the possibility of
struggling.
Close beside the prepared sacrifice
stood the head priest, Tlacopa, robed for the awesome ceremony,
sacrificial knife in hand, temples crowned as customs dictated, eyes
blazing as vividly as they might if backed by living fire.
Not far distant stood Huatzin, head
bandaged and face none the better looking for his floundering fall
when his sash gave way the evening before. And as he caught the
passing gaze of the woman whom he had so basely persecuted, a
repulsive smile showed itself, the grin of a veritable fiend in human
guise.
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Sternly cold, and outwardly unmoved,
the captain of guards performed his sworn duty, then in grim silence
awaited the end. And in like manner each man of that carefully
selected band rested upon his arms.
A brief pause, during which the
utter silence grew actually oppressive, then the head priest lifted a
hand as though commanding full attention before he should speak.
Then, in tones which were by no
means loud, yet which were modulated so as to fill that expanse most
perfectly, Tlacopa recited the grave accusations brought against the
false children of the mighty Sun God.
To their evil influence he
attributed the comparative failure of crops which had now cursed
their fair people throughout the past years. Unto them, he claimed,
belonged the evil credit of many untimely deaths which had covered so
many proud heads with the ashes of mourning and of despair. To their
door might be traced all of misfortune with which the favourite
children of the mighty gods had been so sorely afflicted.
In proud silence Victo listened to
this deliberate arraignment, not deigning to interpose denial, or
offer plea in self-defence, until the paba was clearly at an
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end. And even then she gazed upon Tlacopa with eyes of scorn,
and lips which curled with contempt.
A low murmur from the eager crowd
told how anxious they were to hear more, and, taking her cue from
that, Victo made a graceful motion with her white hand, following it
by words that sounded rarely sweet in their deep mellowness, after
the harsh, dry notes of the paba.
"Who dares to bring such base
charges against the Daughters of Quetzal'? Who are our accusers, head
priest?"
Did Tlacopa shrink from that queenly
presence? If so, 'twas but another cunning device intended to pave
the way to complete success; to catch the fickle fancy of his
audience by rendering his retort all the more effective.
"Who dares accuse us of
wrong-doing?" again demanded the Amazonian mother, speaking for
her child as well, around whose waist her left arm was clinging as a
needed support.
"The Mother of all the gods!"
forcibly replied the priest, now casting aside all presence of
timidity, and gazing into that proud face with eyes which were filled
with fire of hatred and jealousy. "The all-powerful Centeotl
hath made known the awful truth through the lips of the infallible
oracle, my children!
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She hath declared that no smiles shall be turned towards the
children of Anahuac so long as false prophets disgrace this great
city! She hath demanded the sacrifice -- "
"Who can bear witness to any
such demand?" sternly interposed the captain of the body-guard,
unable to listen longer in silence.
Tlacopa flashed an evil look his
way, but from the audience issued another murmur, rising louder until
it took upon itself the shape of words, demanding indubitable proof
that the oracle had indeed spoken thus. And, no longer daring to rely
upon his own authority, Tlacopa turned to the sacrificial stone
whereupon lay the helpless lamb, bowing knee and lifting face as he
volubly repeated the customary invocation; just then it appeared far
more nearly an incantation.
Having thus complied with all the
requirements of his office, the paba first kissed his blade of
sacrifice, then seized the lamb and turned it upon its back, one hand
holding it helpless while with the other he ripped the poor beast
wide from throat to tail, then, making a swift cross-slash, laid bare
the cavity and exposed the quivering heart.
Dropping his knife, Tlacopa grasped
this vital organ, fiercely tearing it away, drawing back where
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all might see as be lifted the heart on high for inspection.
One brief look appeared to satisfy
his needs, for he gave a fierce shout as he hurled the bleeding heart
towards the accused, then cried:
"An omen! An omen! The Mother
of the Gods claims her victims!"
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Chapter 29
CHAPTER XXIX.
BENEATH THE
SACRIFICIAL STONE.
CONTRARY to the expectations of
Ixtli escape by way of the War God's temple was barred throughout the
remainder of that eventful night. Tlacopa, the head priest, together
with a number of his acolytes, varying as to force, yet ever too
powerful for any two men to force a passage contrary to the will of
their leader, remained on duty each and every hour. And hence it came
to pass that those early hours found our fugitives still beneath the
temple, worn through loss of sleep and stress of anxiety, yet firmly
resolved not to permit that intended outrage without at least
striking one fair blow for the Children of the Sun.
Slowly enough the time passed, yet it could hardly be called monotonous. Whenever wearied of their darksome waiting, the young men would steal again into the hollow image of Huitzil', there to utilise the cunningly arranged peepholes, now looking out upon the priests, or listening to catch such words as fell
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from the lips of those nearest the stone of sacrifice.
In this manner Ixtli contrived to
pick up quite a little fund of information, mainly through the
confidences reposed in a certain favoured few of the brotherhood by
the chief paba. And this, in turn, filtered through his lips after
the chums once again retreated to the lower regions for both safety
and comfort.
And then Bruno learned how the
adventurous young Aztec, far less superstitious than the vast
majority of his people, thanks to the kindly teaching of Victo, Child
of Quetzal', had in his explorations discovered so many secrets of
the temple and priesthood, secrets which he now had no scruple in
communicating to another of a different race.
Ixtli told how, on various
occasions, he had lurked behind the scenes while the miraculous
"oracle" was delivering fiat or prophecy, and then he told
his white brother how Tlacopa meant to completely confound the
Children of the Sun when once brought before the gods.
"He tell slave what say. Slave
come dis way. Hide in War God. Wait for time, den tell Tlacopa's
words!"
A most infernal scheme, yet the
danger of which Bruno could readily recognise, together with the
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serious difficulty of refuting any such supernatural evidence.
"Surely your people will not
suffer a few dirty curs to do such horrible wrong to ladies like --
Why, Ixtli, even the gods you fellows bow the knee to in worship,
ought to rise up in their defence!"
But Ixtli merely sighed, then spoke
in sad tones, explaining how he alone had been taken wholly into the
confidence of the Sun Children. Even the captain of their guards knew
Victo and Glady as but descendants of the great Fair God whom the
audacious trickery of a rival sent far away from the land of his
favoured people, to find an abiding-place in the sun itself.
"He good brave. He die for dem,
-- easy! But he not know all. He think drop from sun, to lead people
back to light. If think not so, dat make face turn black; dat make
mad come -- great big!"
As was ever the case when his
feeling seemed deeply stirred, Ixtli found it difficult to fully or
fairly explain his sentiments; but Bruno caught sufficient of his
meaning to give a fair guess at the rest.
He found a ray of hope in the belief
that Aztotl at least would defend the Children of the Sun, and Ixtli
predicted with apparent confidence that the
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members of the body-guard would stand firm under the Red
Heron's leadership.
Keeping thus upon the alert
throughout the remainder of that night, the young men were able to
take prompt action when the crisis drew nigh.
Ixtli caught the first inkling of
what was coming, and hastily sent Bruno away from the peepholes,
dropping a word in his ear as they both prepared for clean work.
Through a secret entrance, shaped
amidst the drapery which surrounded the pedestal of the mighty
Huitzil', a slave of the temple crept to play the part of echo to
Tlacopa's evil will; and scarcely had he secured what was to be a
place of waiting and watching than the attack was made from out the
darkness.
Ixtli flung his tunic over the
slave's head, twisting both ends tightly about his throat,
effectually smothering all attempt at crying aloud for aid, while
Bruno clasped arms about his middle, holding hands powerless to
strike or to draw weapon.
A brief struggle, which produced
scarcely any noise, certainly not sufficient to reach the ears of
priest or helper, then the trembling, unnerved slave was bundled down
that narrow passage, to be dumped in a remote corner, and there
effectually bound and gagged by the young men.
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All this was performed without hitch
or mishap, and then, nerved to fighting pitch, Ixtli and Bruno went
back beneath the stone of sacrifice, resolved to play their part to
the end in manful fashion.
There was no further fear of
intrusion, for, of course, Tlacopa would never think of endangering
his own evil scheme by risking an exposure such as would follow
discovery of his slave-oracle. As Ixtli truly said, such discovery
would end in the paba's being slain by his befooled people.
Their patience was sorely tried,
even then, though a goodly portion of the blame belonged to their
fears for the Sun Children, rather than to the actual length of
waiting. But then, amidst the solemn invocations led by the high
priest, the body-guard marched into the Hall of Sacrifice, and Bruno
caught his breath sharply as he beheld -- Gladys! Not her mother,
just then. For the first minute, only, -- Gladys!
Then came the bitter denunciation by
Tlacopa, followed by the coldly dignified words of Victo, after which
the innocent lamb yielded up its life in order that the future might
be predicted through the still quivering heart.
With a fiercely exultant cry Tlacopa
hurled the vital organ towards the accused, it striking the
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mother upon an arm, then glancing further to leave an ugly
smear upon the daughter's shoulder ere falling among the eager
multitude, who fought and struggled to secure at least a morsel of
the hideous thing.
"Behold! the gods hath marked
their own!" cried the high priest, his harsh tones fairly
filling the Hall of Sacrifice. "They are guilty of all crimes
laid at their door. They merit death, a thousandfold. The Mother of
Gods hath spoken!"
"To whom but thou, Tlacopa?"
sternly cried the captain of the guards, as he stood firm in spite of
the ominous sounds which were rising from the rear, as well as from
either side.
"She hath spoken unto me, as
her worthy representative on earth."
"And there are those who say
much religion hath turned thy brain, good Tlacopa," retorted
Aztotl, holding his temper fairly well under control, yet with
blazing eyes and stiffening sinews. "Are thy ears alone to
receive such important communications as -- "
"Silence, thou scoffer!"
fiercely cried the high priest, lifting quivering hands on high as
though about to call down the thunders of an outraged deity upon that
impious head. "She who hath spoken
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once may deign to speak again. Harken, -- hear the oracle!"
Doubtless this was cue for the slave
of the temple to repeat the words placed within its mouth, but that
slave was literally unable to speak a word for himself, let alone
others. Yet, -- the oracle was not wholly silenced!
"Talk out, or I will!"
fiercely muttered Bruno, giving Ixtli a violent punch in the side.
"talk out for the Sun Children!"
The young Aztec needed no further
prompting, loving Victo and Glady as he did, hating and despising the
high priest. And in shrill, clear tones came the wondrous oracle:
"Tlacopa lies! Tlacopa is an
evil dog! The Mother of the Gods loves and will defend her friends,
the Children of the great and good Quetzal'."
How much more Ixtli might have said,
had he been granted further grace, will never be known. Tlacopa
shrank away from the speaking statue as from a living death, but then
he rallied, savagely thundering:
" 'Tis a lying oracle! 'Tis an
evil impostor who has -- An omen! A true omen, my children! The evil
ones hath been branded for the knife! Seize them! To the sacrifice!"
-301-
"TLACOPA SHRANK AWAY FROM THE SPEAKING STATUE."
-303-
That vicious cry was swiftly taken
up, but the body-guard closed in around the menaced women, presenting
arms to all that maddened horde, while their captain sternly warned
all good people to fall aside and make way for the Children of the
Sun.
Then that secret entrance was flung
wide, permitting two excited young men to issue, Tlacopa reeling
aside from a blow dealt him by Bruno's clenched fist, as that worthy
hastened to join forces with the body-guard.
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Chapter 30
CHAPTER XXX.
AGAINST OVERWHELMING
ODDS.
THIS double appearance -- for Ixtli
kept fair pace with his hot-headed white brother -- caused no little
stir, and added considerable to the partial bewilderment which had
fallen over that audience.
Prince Hua shouted forth savage threats, but he, as well as the paba, was fairly demoralised for the moment by the totally unexpected failure of their carefully laid schemes.
Seeing his chance, Aztotl bade his men escort the Sun Children from the Hall of Sacrifice back to their own abiding-place, barely noticing his son, and paying no heed at all to the disguised paleface.
With spears ready for stroke or parry as occasion might demand, the guard faced about and slowly moved away from the great stone of sacrifice, rigid of face, cool of nerve, ready to die if must be, yet never once thinking of disobedience to orders, or of playing cur to save life.
Almost involuntarily the crowd parted before that
-305-
measured advance, giving way until a fair pathway lay open,
along which the body-guard moved with neither haste nor hesitation,
outwardly ignorant of the fact that ugly cries and dangerous gestures
were coming thicker and faster their way.
Scores of other voices caught up the
fierce cry given by the head priest, and now the temple was ringing
throughout with demands that the false Sun Children should pay full
penalty, should be haled to the sacrificial stone, there to purge
themselves without further delay!
Others showed an inclination to
favour the descendants of Quetzal', and thus the widely conflicting
shouts and cries formed a medley which was fairly deafening.
For one of his fierce temper the Red
Heron showed a marvellous coolness throughout that perilous retreat,
and never more than during the first few seconds. Then a single
injudicious word or too hasty movement might easily have precipitated
a fight, where the vast audience would surely have brought disaster,
whether the majority so willed or not.
Holding his men well in hand, moving
only as rapidly as prudence justified, yet losing neither time nor
ground, where both were of such vital importance; Aztotl forced a
passage from the great Hall of Sacrifice
-306-
down to the level, then out into the open air, where one could
see and fight if needs be.
Through all this, Bruno Gillespie
held the position he had taken, one hand gripping tightly his
maquahuitl, but placing his main dependence upon the revolver
which nestled conveniently within the folds of his sash, one nervous
forefinger touching the curved trigger.
He could not help seeing that the
danger was great. He felt certain that they could not retreat much
farther without coming to blows, when the odds would be
overwhelmingly against them. Yet never for an instant did he regret
having taken such a decided step; not for one moment did he give
thought to himself.
Almost within reach of his hand, if
extended at the length of his arm, moved the fair maiden whose face
and form had made so deep an impression upon his mind and his heart.
She was in peril. She needed aid. That was enough!
Then the briefly stunned Tlacopa
rushed forth from his desecrated temple, wildly flourishing his arms,
furiously denouncing both the Sun Children and their body-guard,
thundering forth the curses of all the gods upon the heads of those
who refrained from arresting the evil ones.
-307-
"The mighty Mother of Gods
calls for her own! Seize them! Strike down the impious dogs who dare
attempt to defraud our Mother! Seize them! To the sacrifice -- to the
sacrifice!"
Equally loud of voice, the Prince
Hua came leaping down to the sandy level, urging his people to the
assault, offering almost fabulous sums as reward for the brave Aztec
whose arm should lay yonder traitorous Red Heron prone in the dust.
The crisis came, and the dogs of war
were let loose.
An arrow whizzed narrowly past the
feathered helmet worn by the captain of the guards. A stone came
humming out of sling, to be deftly dashed aside by Aztotl's shield
ere it could fairly smite that gold-crowned head as, outwardly calm
and composed, Victo aided her trembling daughter on towards the
Temple of the Sun God, where alone they might look for safety.
But would it be found even there?
No! For, at savage howl from lips of
the high priest, a strong force of armed redskins took up position at
the teocalli, blocking each one of the four flights of stone steps in
order to intercept the body-guard, while still closer pressed the
yelling, screeching, frantic heathen of both sexes and all ages.
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Aztotl saw how he had been flanked,
but made no sign, even while slightly turning course for another
temple at less distance, a single word being sufficient to post his
true-hearts.
So far not a single blow had been
struck by the retreating party, although great provocation had been
given them. More than one of their number was bleeding, yet all were
afoot, and still capable of holding ranks. Then --
Bravest of the brave, a man among
men in spite of his tender years, Ixtli laid down his life in defence
of his idolised Victo.
From one of that maddened rabble
came a heavy stone, flung with all the power of a sinewy arm and
great sling. Smitten fairly between the eyes, the poor lad's skull
was crushed, as a giant hand might mash an eggshell.
One gasping sigh, then the lad sunk
to earth, dead ere he could fairly measure his length thereupon.
For a single instant Aztotl seemed
as one stupefied, but then an awful uproar burst from his labouring
lungs, and he hurled his heavy javelin full at yonder murderer,
winging it with a father's curses.
Swift flew the dart, but fully as
quickly sank that varlet, the head of the spear scraping his skull,
to
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pass on and smite with death one even more evil, if that might
be.
Full in the throat Tlacopa was
stricken, the broad blade of copper tearing a passage through, and
the shaft following after for the greater portion of its length.
Unable to scream, though his visage was hideously distorted by
mingled fear and agony, the high priest caught the wood in both
hands, even as he reeled to partly turn, then fall upon his face,
dead, -- thrice dead!
With a wild thrill of grief and
horror, Bruno Gillespie saw his red brother reel in cruel death, and,
for the moment heedless of his own peril, which surely was doubled
thereby, he sprang that way, to stoop and catch that quivering shape
in his eager hands.
Too late, save to show his
comradeship. That heavy stone had only too surely performed its grim
mission. Dead! Poor lad: dead, while seeking to save another!
With a fierce cry of angry mourning,
Bruno lifted the mutilated corpse in his arms, trying to toss it over
a shoulder, to bear away from risk of trampling under the heedless
feet of the yelling heathen; but it was not to be. Another stone
smote his arm near the elbow, breaking no bone, yet so benumbing the
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member as to temporarily disable it, causing that precious
burden to drop to earth once more.
Then came an awful outcry from the
people, whom the sight of their high-priest reeling in death had, for
a few fleeting seconds, fairly stupefied. Cries which meant much to
the living, and before which even that band of true-hearts receded
with slightly quickened pace.
With the others fell back Bruno,
leaving his hand-wood lying beside the lifeless corpse of his
redskinned brother-at-heart, but drawing forth the weapon which he
knew so much better how to use.
The fierce lust of vengeance now
seized upon him, heart and brain. He shouted forth grim defiance to
that howling crew, and as the deadly missiles came in thickening
clouds, carrying death and wounds to the body-guard of the Sun
Children, he opened fire, shooting to kill.
Entirely without firearms
themselves, and in all probability ignorant of such an instrument of
destruction, this might have produced a far more beneficial result
under other circumstances. As it was now, few, if any, took heed of
what they could not hear above that awful tumult, and those who felt
the boring lead never rose up to give their testimony.
Closer crowded the
superstition-ridden heathen,
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showering missiles of all descriptions upon the body-guard,
confounding all with the one to whose javelin their head priest owed
his death, -- only to recoil once more, in fierce awe, as another
victim of high rank paid forfeit his life for the death of Ixtli,
sole offspring of Aztotl, the Red Heron.
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Chapter 31
CHAPTER XXXI.
DEFENDING THE SUN
CHILDREN.
LOUDER than ever rose the voice of
Lord Hua, after witnessing the fall of his ally, the high priest. In
spite of the great odds against the body-guards, he began to fear
lest his intended prey should even yet slip through his evil
clutches.
Fiercer than ever rang forth his curses and imprecations upon the head of the Aztec who thus dared the vengeance of all the gods by lifting hand in arms against the anointed.
And then, his own nerve strung by those very efforts to inspire others, Lord Hua forged nearer the front, eager to behold all his hated enemies crushed to earth as by a single stroke. And then --
With vicious force he hurled his javelin straight for the white throat of the Sun Child who had scorned his fawning advances, and only the ever ready eye, the true hand, the strong arm of Aztotl again warded off grim death from the Fair God's Child.
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Caught upon that trusty shield one
instant, the next turned towards its original owner, to quiver for
the barest fraction of time in that vengeful grip, then, gloriously
true to the hero's will and intent, sped that javelin home.
Home to the false heart of false
prince; grinding through skin and flesh and bones, cleaving that hot
organ with broad blade of tempered copper, forcing one vicious
screech from those tortured lungs, then causing that bulk to measure
its length upon the blood-sprinkled sands.
Once again the heathen involuntarily
recoiled, as death claimed a high victim. Once more the band of
true-hearts slightly quickened their pace towards the temple, now
nigh at hand. Yet those lessened numbers never once betrayed fear, or
doubt, or faltering. Grimly true to their trust, they fell back in
the best of order, fighting as they moved, beating back the heathen
hosts, as though each man was a god, and their strong arms a wall of
steel.
Here and there a true-heart sank to
earth with the hand of death veiling his eyes, but he died in
silence; no cry of fear, no moan of pain, no pitiful appeal for mercy
at the hands of his maddened people. They knew their sworn duty, and
like true hearts they trod that narrow path unto the very end.
-314-
Although with gradually lessening
numbers, the body-guard remained practically the same. Still in a
hollow square, with the Children of the Sun God in the centre, they
slowly, doggedly fell back, ever facing the ravening foe, ever moving
shoulder to shoulder as a single man.
Then, just as Bruno Gillespie was
refilling his emptied revolver, the base of the tall pyramidal temple
was won, and still protecting their fair-haired charge, the
body-guard ascended to the second terrace, beating back such of the
wild rabble as pressed them too closely.
Again that wonderful barking-death
came into play, and Bruno felt a strangely savage joy gnawing at his
heart as he saw more than one stalwart warrior reel dizzily back from
his hot hail.
"For Ixtli, you curs! That for
Ixtli! Down, -- and eat dirt, dogs!"
Scarcely could his own ears catch
those sounds, although he shouted with the full power of his strong
young lungs, so indescribably horrid was the din and tumult.
Up another flight of steps, then yet
another, although the crazed rabble was not pressing them so very
hard, just now. Still, their number forbade a fourfold division as
yet, and Aztotl feared lest the
-315-
blood-ravening mob attempt to head off their flight by taking
possession of the other stairs, thus being first to occupy yonder
flat arena high above the earth, whereupon he hoped to still protect
the Sun Children, even though he must lay down his life to maintain
their lease.
Lacking an acknowledged leader, the
furious mass thought only of crushing the faithful band by mere
weight of numbers, taking no thought in advance, else the end might
well have been precipitated.
Arrows, spears, javelins, stones
from slings, poured upon the body-guard in almost countless numbers,
now and then claiming a true-heart as victim, whereupon the rabble
howled afresh in drunken triumph; but where a single man died in the
performance of his oath-bound duty, half a score heathen bit the dust
and grovelled out his remnant of life yonder where most viciously
trampled the feet of his fellow brutes.
Pausing barely long enough to beat
back the crazed rush which came so close upon their retreat, the band
of brothers would then slowly, doggedly fall back another of those
mighty steps, with bared teeth and blazing eyes, longing to end all
by one joyous plunge into the thick of their assailants, dying with
their chosen dead!
-316-
Five separate times that upward
flight, and five times the grim pause to give death another portion
of his red feast. Five times the blood-lapping mob dashed against the
band of brothers. Five times they were hurled back, leaving more dead
and dying there to mark the savage struggle.
And then, sadly decimated at each
halt, less in numbers as they passed farther from earth to climb
nearer the blue sky, the survivors won the crest of the teocalli,
still fighting, still beating back such as followed their steps more
closely.
Ere that brilliant retreat began,
'twould have taken close ranks for the body-guard to find
standing-room upon the temple-top; but now -- Aztotl called for a
division of his force, since there were four separate avenues of
approach, of which the enemy was prompt to avail itself.
"For the Sun Children, my
brothers!" he cried, his voice rising even above that awful
tumult and turmoil. "Guard them with your lives!"
Little need to waste breath in so
adjuring. Of all thus enlisted, not one of the true-hearts but proved
worthy the trust. Not one brave who took care for his own life. Not
one but was ready to die in order to save; and thus far not a single
wound had won so far as either Child of the Fair God.
-317-
Even now while the heathen were
raging more viciously than ever, crowding each terrace and jamming
each flight of steps to the verge of suffocation, strong arms were
shielding them, true hearts were thinking how best they might be
served.
Time and again Aztotl warded away
winged death as it sought to claim Victo for its prey. And Bruno
Gillespie, no whit less brave if somewhat lacking in warlike
experience, made Gladys his especial care, sending shot or dealing
knife-thrust in her defence, barely giving thought to his own safety
as a side issue.
Those broad terraces bore ugly pools
and irregular patches of red blood. The various flights of stone
steps grew slippery and uncertain as they likewise began to steam.
Yet forward and upward pressed the howling mob, and desperately
fought the doomed body-guard above.
Faster fly the deadly missiles, too
many by far for even the keenest eye to guard against them all. One
and another of those gallant defenders drop away; only because death
had claimed them, not because of fear or of bodily anguish.
Aztotl staggers, -- an arrow is
quivering in his broad bosom, -- but still he fights on, dealing
death with each blow of his blood-dripping hand-wood. A
-318-
stone lays open his brow, -- but heavier and faster plays his
terrible weapon. A javelin flashes briefly, then the red copper
vanishes from sight, while the ashen shaft slowly dyes crimson, as
the hot life-blood issues.
A last, dying stroke, and the Red
Heron sinks at the feet of his adoration, faithful unto the last, his
brave soul going forth to join with that of Ixtli; the last of a
gallant family.
Victo gives a wild cry of vengeance,
then snatches up bow and quiver where let fall by a death-smitten
warrior, and wings swift death to the slayer of her captain of the
guard.
An awful melee, where the odds were
momentarily increasing; where one man was forced to do the work of a
score; where death inevitable awaited all, unless a miracle should
intervene. And that miracle --
Shrilly rang forth the voice of
Victoria Edgecombe as, amidst the fury of battle, she caught sight of
the air-ship swiftly darting that way through the clear atmosphere,
bent on saving, if saving might be.
The peculiar sound which attended
the exploding of a dynamite cartridge heralded the death of more than
one Aztec, and, as the swift rattle of revolvers added to the uproar,
there was an involuntary recoiling,
-319-
a terrified shrinking, which was employed to the best
advantage by the air-voyagers.
The aerostat barely landed upon the
top of the temple, before Cooper Edgecombe, with a wild scream of
ecstatic joy, caught his wife in his arms and hurried her into the
car, while Waldo and uncle Phaeton aided Bruno.
-320-
Chapter 32
CHAPTER XXXII.
ADIEU TO THE LOST
CITY.
AND Bruno clung fast to the
half-swooning maiden, so that two in place of one had to be assisted
by uncle and nephew!
Barely a score of seconds thus employed, then the gallant air-ship responded to the touch of master-hand, and floated away from the bloody temple-top with its increased burden, even as the last survivor of the Sun Children's body-guard sank down in death.
A brief stupor came over the amazed heathen at sight of this awful air-devil from whose sides spat forth invisible death; but then, as they divined at least a portion of the truth, as they saw their longed-for victims thus borne bodily away, a revulsion came, and, amid the most hideous howls and screeches, missiles flew towards the air-ship, menacing sudden death to all therein.
But fate would not have it thus, and, under the guidance of that master-hand, the aeromotor flew
-321-
higher and farther, quickly leaving behind all peril from
javelins, darts, arrows, or stones from slings. And but one of their
number had suffered aught: Bruno lay as one dead, blood flowing from
a stone-gash over an eye, but with one hand still gripping the butt
of an empty pistol; his other arm was -- around the Sun Daughter's
waist!
And Gladys? First she shrunk back
with a gasping cry of mingled fear and grief; only to quickly recover
and -- did she kiss that curiously spotted, streaked face?
Waldo afterwards declared she
certainly did, for that a moment later he saw some of that moistened
stain upon her quivering lips; but Waldo was ever extravagantly fond
of a jest, and it may be -- never mind!
Not until the air-ship was safely
past peril from yonder howling, raving lunatics in bronze did
Professor Featherwit give heed to aught else, and by that time
Victoria had left the ardent embrace of her husband, to care for the
elder Gillespie, whose single-hearted devotion all through that
bloody retreat and bloodier struggle upon the temple had not wholly
escaped her notice.
Under such tender ministrations,
Bruno quickly revived, and, after assuring himself that the Children
-322-
of the Sun were alive and unharmed, while the Lost City was
now left far behind them, he huskily begged uncle Phaeton to descend
to earth, where he might find water enough to remove what remained of
that loathsome disguise!
But Professor Featherwit was far too
shrewd a general to take any unnecessary risks. His last glimpse of
yonder valley showed him hundreds of armed redskins rushing at top
speed for the various passes by which that circle of hills could be
over-passed, and he knew that chase would be made as long as the
faintest ray of hope lured the Aztecs on.
Thus it came that no halt was made
until the inland reservoir was reached, where there could be no
possible danger in making a temporary landing. And then Bruno stole
away in hot haste, both to wash his person and to reclothe it in
garments not quite so ridiculous as he now felt that savage rig must
appear.
"Just as though the little
woman wasn't used to see fit-outs like that, old man," mocked
Waldo, the irrepressible. "She'll go scare at you in this rig;
see if she doesn't, now!"
Whether or no Gladys was actually
frightened as Bruno made his appearance, need not be decided
-323-
here; but one fact remains: she acted a vast dead shyer than
when she saw her gallant defender lying as if dead, with the red
blood flowing over his face.
Naturally enough, Cooper Edgecombe
seemed fairly crazed by his joy. After so many long years of hopeless
grief and wistful longing, to find his loved ones, safe and sound,
far more beautiful than of yore! Surely enough to turn the gravest of
men into a laughing, jesting, voluble lad!
But throughout it all ran a vein of
sadness and of mourning. Neither Aztotl the noble, nor Ixtli the
gallant, could so soon be forgotten. And more than one pair of eyes
grew dim, more than one voice turned husky, as mention was made of
both life and death, -- peace to their ashes!
Heavily burdened as the air-ship now
was, it would be unwise to add more, and so but a few minor articles
were removed from the cavern, which had for so long sheltered the
exiled aeronaut, then the lever was touched, and the vessel rose
slowly into air, making one leisurely circuit of the lake, in order
to show the Children of the Sun where their husband and father came
so perilously nigh to entering upon a subterranean voyage to the
far-away Pacific.
-324-
And, luckily as it appeared, they were just in time to see
that "big suck" drag another huge tree down into its ever
hungry maw.
Not until the shades of night again
began to settle over the earth did the professor permit another halt,
but then many miles lay between that Lost City of the Aztecs and
their present position, and, after selecting a pleasant spot for
alighting, preparations for their first al-fresco meal in company
were begun.
That proved to be a pleasant meal,
and yet a more pleasant evening there in the wilderness, -- the
first, but by no means the last, partaken of, -- for, now they need
no longer fear the heathen, Professor Featherwit was eager to more
thoroughly explore that strange land.
Still, the air-ship was
inconveniently crowded, and that helped to cut explorations short.
Then, too, Cooper Edgecombe was naturally eager to return to
civilisation once more, especially as he now had his heart's dearest
desire, wife and daughter, each peerless in her peculiar way.
Thus it came to pass that the terra
incognita was abandoned for the time being, Professor Featherwit
striking that wide path of ruin which marked the course of the
tornado, then sailing leisurely towards the point of their initial
departure, improving the opportunity
-325-
by giving a neat little lecture concerning tornadoes in
general, and that one in particular.
"Which totally exploded so many
absurd theories held up to date," was his proud assertion; and
then he went on to explain just how, and why, and wherefore --
Why dwell longer? The tale I set out
to narrate is finished. The unknown land has been penetrated, and at
least a portion of its marvels has been inspected; imperfectly, no
doubt, but that may be attributed to circumstances which were past
control.
And should the still curious reader
ask, "Is it all true? Is there actually such a place as the Lost
City? And are the people who live in that town really and truly the
same race as once inhabited Old Mexico?" -- to all such, I can
hardly do better than this: there was a Territory of Washington.
There is now a State of Washington. Within that State may be found a
range, or system of mountains, known to the world as the Olympics.
And within the wide scope of country which lies nestling inside of
that mountain system may to this day be found --
But, after all, a little parable
which Waldo Gillespie read to a certain doubting Thomas, on the very
-326-
evening of the day which changed Gladys Edgecombe, spinster,
into Mrs. Bruno Gillespie, may better serve in this connection.
"After all, I don't believe
there is any such place or people," declared Doubting Thomas,
nodding his head vigorously.
"Is that so?" mildly
queried our good friend, Waldo. "Let me give you a little
pointer, old man. Once upon a time, a man by the name of John Smith
was being tried for stealing a fat hog. The State brought three
reputable witnesses to swear that they actually saw the theft
committed, while the best the defence could offer was to declare that
they could produce at least a dozen honest citizens who would make
oath to the fact that they did not witness the crime. So -- moral:
"We six fairly honest people
saw both the Lost City and its inhabitants. Scores of equally
reliable persons never saw either. Which sort of evidence weighs the
most, my good fellow?"
Gentlemen of the jury, the verdict
rests with you!
THE END.
The Lost City
Badger, Joseph E., Jr.
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About the print version
The Lost City
Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 326 pages
Dana Estes & Company
Boston
1898
Prepared for the University of Virginia Library Electronic Text Center.
Some keywords in the header are a local Electronic Text Center scheme to aid in establishing analytical groupings.
Published: 1898
English
fiction; prose Young Readers LCSH L. J. Bridgman Illustrations 24-bit
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Revisions to the electronic version
September 1997 corrector Gregory Murray, Electronic Text Center
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THE LOST
CITY
BY
JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.
AUTHOR OF "SPUR
AND SADDLE," "AROUND
THE CAMPFIRE,"
ETC.
Illustrated by
L. J. BRIDGMAN
BOSTON
DANA
ESTES & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
1898
Copyright, 1898
BY
DANA ESTES & COMPANY Colonial Press:
Electrotyped and Printed
by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U. S. A.
-vii-
CONTENTS.
I. NATURE IN TRAVAIL. . . . . . . . . . . . 11
II. PROFESSOR FEATHERWIT TAKING NOTES . . . 23
III. RIDING THE TORNADO . . . . . . . . . . 35
IV. THE PROFESSOR'S LITTLE EXPERIMENT . . . 47
V. THE PROFESSOR'S UNKNOWN LAND . . . . . . 58
VI. A BRACE OF UNWELCOME VISITORS . . . . . 68
VII. THE PROFESSOR'S GREAT ANTICIPATIONS. . 79
VIII. A DUEL TO THE DEATH . . . . . . . . . 91
IX. GRAPPLING A QUEER FISH. . . . . . . . 104
X. RESCUED AND RESCUERS. . . . . . . . . . 114
XI. ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR THE PROFESSOR . . 125
XII. THE STORY OF A BROKEN LIFE. . . . . . 136
XIII. THE LOST CITY OF THE AZTECS. . . . . 145
XIV. A MARVELLOUS VISION . . . . . . . . . 154
XV. ASTOUNDING, YET TRUE . . . . . . . . . 165
XVI. CAN IT BE TRUE? . . . . . . . . . . . 174
XVII. AN ENIGMA FOR THE BROTHERS . . . . . 183
- XVIII. SOMETHING LIKE A WHITE ELEPHANT . . 192
-viii-
XIX. THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN GOD . . . . . 203
XX. THE PROFESSOR AND THE AZTEC. . . . . . 212
XXI. DISCUSSING WAYS AND MEANS . . . . . . 221
XXII. A DARING UNDERTAKING . . . . . . . . 230
XXIII. A FLIGHT UNDERGROUND. . . . . . . . 241
XXIV. THE SUN CHILDREN'S PERIL . . . . . . 250
XXV. WALDO GOES FISHING. . . . . . . . . . 259
XXVI. DOWN AMONG THE DEAD . . . . . . . . 268
XXVII. PENETRATING GRIM SECRETS. . . . . . 277
XXVIII. BROUGHT BEFORE THE GODS. . . . . . 286
XXIX. BENEATH THE SACRIFICIAL STONE. . . . 294
XXX. AGAINST OVERWHELMING ODDS . . . . . . 304
XXXI. DEFENDING THE SUN CHILDREN . . . . . 312
- XXXII. ADIEU TO THE LOST CITY. . . . . . . 320
ILLUSTRATIONS.
THE RESCUE . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece
IN THE HEART OF THE TORNADO . . . . . . . . . . 43
THE DUKE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
"`I TOOK THESE ALL FROM AN INDIAN'". . . . . . .133
FINDING THE LOST CITY. . . . . . . . . . . . . .161
"`MUCH OBLIGED -- ME, YOU, BROTHER'" . . . . . . .197
PRINCE HUA AND THE SUN CHILDREN. . . . . . . . .237
- "TLACOPA SHRANK AWAY FROM THE SPEAKING STATUE" .301
-11-
Chapter 1
THE LOST CITY.
CHAPTER
I.
NATURE IN TRAVAIL.
"I SAY, professor?"
"Very well, Waldo; proceed."
"Wonder if this isn't a portion of the glorious climate, broken loose from its native California, and drifting up this way on a lark?"
"If so, said lark must be roasted to a turn," declared the third (and last) member of that little party, drawing a curved forefinger across his forehead, then flirting aside sundry drops of moisture. "I can't recall such another muggy afternoon, and if we were only back in what the scientists term the cyclone belt -- "
"We would be all at sea," quickly interposed the professor, the fingers of one hand vigorously stirring his gray pompadour, while the other was lifted in a
-12-
deprecatory manner. "At sea, literally as well as
metaphorically, my dear Bruno; for, correctly speaking, the ocean
alone can give birth to the cyclone."
"Why can't you remember
anything, boy?" sternly cut in the roguish-eyed youngster, with
admonitory forefinger, coming to the front. "How many times have
I told you never to say blue when you mean green? Why don't you say
Kansas zephyr? Or windy-auger? Or twister? Or whirly-gust on a
corkscrew wiggle-waggle? Or -- well, almost any other old thing that
you can't think of at the right time? W-h-e-w! Who mentioned sitting
on a snowdrift, and sucking at an icicle? Hot? Well, now, if this
isn't a genuine old cyclone breeder, then I wouldn't ask a cent!"
Waldo Gillespie let his feet slip
from beneath him, sitting down with greater force than grace, back
supported against a gnarled juniper, loosening the clothes at his
neck while using his other hand to ply his crumpled hat as a fan.
Bruno laughed outright at this
characteristic anticlimax, while Professor Featherwit was obliged to
smile, even while compelled to correct.
"Tornado, please, nephew; not
cyclone."
"Well, uncle Phaeton, have it
your own way. Under either name, I fancy the thing-a-ma-jig would
-13-
kick up a high old bobbery with a man's political economy
should it chance to go bu'st right there! And, besides, when I was a
weenty little fellow I was taught never to call a man a fool or a
liar -- "
"Waldo!" sharply warned
his brother, turning again.
"So long as I knew myself to be
in the wrong," coolly finished the youngster, face grave, but
eyes twinkling, as they turned towards his mistaken mentor. "What
is it, my dear Bruno?"
"There is one thing neither
cyclone nor tornado could ever deprive you of, Kid, and that is -- "
"My beauty, wit, and good
sense, -- thanks, awfully! Nor you, my dear Bruno, although my inbred
politeness forbids my explaining just why."
There was a queer-sounding chuckle
as Professor Featherwit turned away, busying himself about that
rude-built shed and shanty which sheltered the pride of his brain and
the pet of his heart, while Bruno smiled indulgently as he took a few
steps away from those stunted trees in order to gain a fairer view of
the stormy heavens.
Far away towards the northeast,
rising above the distant hill, now showed an ugly-looking cloud-bank
which almost certainly portended a storm of no ordinary dimensions.
-14-
Had it first appeared in the
opposite quarter of the horizon, Bruno would have felt a stronger
interest in the clouds, knowing as he did that the miscalled
"cyclone" almost invariably finds birth in the southwest.
Then, too, nearly all the other symptoms were noticeable, -- the
close, "muggy" atmosphere; the deathlike stillness; the
lack of oxygen in the air, causing one to breathe more rapidly, yet
with far less satisfying results than usual.
Even as Bruno gazed, those heavy
cloud-banks changed, both in shape and in colour, taking on a
peculiar greenish lustre which only too accurately forebodes hail of
no ordinary force.
His cry to this effect brought the
professor forth from the shed-like shanty, while Waldo roused up
sufficiently to speak:
"To say nothing of yonder
formation way out over the salty drink, my worthy friends, who
intimated that a cyclone was born at sea?"
Professor Featherwit frowned a bit
as his keen little rat-like eyes turned towards that quarter of the
heavens; but the frown was not for Waldo, nor for his slightly
irreverent speech.
Where but a few minutes before there
had been only a few light clouds in sight, was now a heavy bank of
remarkable shape, its crest a straight line
-15-
as though marked by an enormous ruler, while the lower edge
was broken into sharp points and irregular sections, the whole
seeming to float upon a low sea of grayish copper.
"Well, well, that looks ugly,
decidedly ugly, I must confess," the wiry little professor
spoke, after that keen scrutiny.
"Really, now?" drawled
Waldo, who was nothing if not contrary on the surface. "Barring
a certain little topsy-turvyness which is something out of the
ordinary, I'd call that a charming bit of -- Great guns and little
cannon-balls!"
For just then there came a shrieking
blast of wind from out the northeast, bringing upon its wings a brief
shower of hail, intermingled with great drops of rain which pelted
all things with scarcely less force than did those frozen particles.
"Hurrah!" shrilly screamed
Waldo, as he dashed out into the storm, fairly revelling in the
sudden change. "Who says this isn't `'way up in G?' Who says --
out of the way, Bruno! Shut that trap-door in your face, so another
fellow may get at least a share of the good things coming straight
down from -- ow -- wow!"
Through the now driving rain came
flashing larger particles, and one of more than ordinary size
rebounded
-16-
from that curly pate, sending its owner hurriedly to shelter
beneath the scrubby trees, one hand ruefully rubbing the injured
part.
Faster fell the drops, both of rain
and of ice, clattering against the shanty and its adjoining shed with
an uproar audible even above the sullenly rolling peals of heavy
thunder.
The rain descended in perfect sheets
for a few minutes, while the hailstones fell thicker and faster,
growing in size as the storm raged, already beginning to lend those
red sands a pearly tinge with their dancing particles. Now and then
an aerial monster would fall, to draw a wondering cry from the
brothers, and on more than one occasion Waldo risked a cracked crown
by dashing forth from shelter to snatch up a remarkable specimen.
"Talk about your California
fruit! what's the matter with good old Washington Territory?" he
cried, tightly clenching one fist and holding a hailstone alongside
by way of comparison. "Look at that, will you? Isn't it a
beauty? See the different shaded rings of white and clear ice. See --
brother, it is as large as my fist!"
But for once Professor Phaeton
Featherwit was fairly deaf to the claims of this, in some respects
his favourite nephew, having scuttled back beneath the
-17-
shed, where he was busily stowing away sundry articles of
importance into a queerly shaped machine which those rough planks
fairly shielded from the driving storm.
Having performed this duty to his
own satisfaction, the professor came back to where the brothers were
standing, viewing with them such of the storm as could be itemised.
That was but little, thanks to the driving rain, which cut one's
vision short at but a few rods, while the deafening peals of thunder
prevented any connected conversation during those first few minutes.
"Good thing we've got a
shelter!" cried Waldo, involuntarily shrinking as the plank roof
was hammered by several mammoth stones of ice. "One of those
chunks of ice would crack a fellow's skull just as easy!"
Yet the next instant he was out in
the driving storm, eagerly snatching at a brace of those frozen
marvels, heedless of his own risk or of the warning shouts sent after
him by those cooler-brained comrades.
Thunder crashed in wildest unison
with almost blinding sheets of lightning, the rain and hail falling
thicker and heavier than ever for a few moments; but then, as
suddenly as it had come, the storm
-18-
passed on, leaving but a few scattered drops to fetch up the
rear.
"Isn't that pretty nearly what
people call a cloudburst, uncle Phaeton?" asked Bruno, curiously
watching that receding mass of what from their present standpoint
looked like vapour.
"Those wholly ignorant of
meteorological phenomena might so pronounce, perhaps, but never one
who has given the matter either thought or study," promptly
responded the professor, in no wise loth to give a free lecture, no
matter how brief it might be, perforce. "It is merely nature
seeking to restore a disturbed equilibrium; a current of colder air,
in search of a temporary vacuum, caused by -- "
"But isn't that just what
produces cy -- tornadoes, though?" interrupted Waldo, with scant
politeness.
"Precisely, my dear boy,"
blandly agreed their mentor, rubbing his hands briskly, while peering
through rain-dampened glasses, after that departing storm. "And
I have scarcely a doubt but that a tornado of no ordinary magnitude
will be the final outcome of this remarkable display. For, as the
record will amply prove, the most destructive windstorms are
invariably heralded by a fall of hail, heavy in proportion to the --
"
"Then I'd rather be excused,
thank you, sir!"
-19-
again interrupted the younger of the brothers, shrugging his
shoulders as he stepped forth from shelter to win a fairer view of
the space stretching away towards the south and the west. "I
always laughed at tales of hailstones large as hen's eggs, but now I
know better. If I was a hen, and had to match such a pattern as
these, I'd petition the legislature to change my name to that of
ostrich, -- I just would, now!"
Bruno proved to be a little more
amenable to the law of politeness, and to him Professor Featherwit
confined his sapient remarks for the time being, giving no slight
amount of valuable information anent these strange phenomena of
nature in travail.
He spoke of the different varieties
of land-storms, showing how a tornado varied from a hurricane or a
gale, then again brought to the front the vital difference between a
cyclone, as such, and the miscalled "twister," which has
wrought such dire destruction throughout a large portion of our own
land during more recent years.
While that little lecture would make
interesting reading for those who take an interest in such matters,
it need scarcely be reproduced in this connection, more particularly
as, just when the professor was getting fairly warmed up to his work,
an interruption
-20-
came in the shape of a sharp, eager shout from the lips of
Waldo Gillespie.
"Look -- look yonder! What a
funny looking cloud that is!"
A small clump of trees growing upon
a rising bit of ground interfered with the view of his brother and
uncle, for Waldo was pointing almost due southeast; yet his
excitement was so pronounced that both the professor and Bruno
hastened in that direction, stopping short as they caught a fair
sight of the object indicated.
A mighty mass of wildly disturbed
clouds, black and green and white and yellow all blending together
and constantly shifting positions, out of which was suddenly formed a
still more ominous shape.
A mass of lurid vapour shot
downwards, taking on the general semblance of a balloon, as it swayed
madly back and forth, an elongating trunk or tongue reaching still
nearer the earth, with fierce gyrations, as though seeking to fasten
upon some support.
Not one of that trio had ever before
gazed upon just such another creation, yet one and all recognised the
truth, -- this was a veritable tornado, just such as they had read in
awed wonder about, time and time again.
-21-
Neither one of the brothers
Gillespie were cravens, in any sense of the word, but now their
cheeks grew paler, and they seemed to shrink from yonder airy
monster, even while watching it grow into shape and awful power.
Professor Featherwit was no less
absorbed in this wondrous spectacle, but his was the interest of a
scientist, and his pulse beat as ordinary, his brain remaining as
clear and calm as ever.
"I hardly believe we have
anything to fear from this tornado, my lads," he said, taking
note of their uneasiness. "According to both rule and precedent,
yonder tornado will pass to the east of our present position, and we
will be as safe right here as though we were a thousand miles away."
"But, -- do they always move
towards the northeast, uncle Phaeton?"
"As a rule, yes; but there are
exceptions, of course. And unless this should prove to be one of
those rare ex -- er -- "
"Look!" cried Waldo, with
swift gesticulation. "It's coming this way, or I never -- isn't
it coming this way?"
"Unless this should prove to be
one of those rare exceptions, my dear boy, I can promise you that --
Upon my soul!" with an abrupt change of both
-22-
tone and manner, "I really believe it is coming
this way!"
"It is -- it is coming! Get a
move on, or we'll never know -- hunt a hole and pull it in after
you!" fairly screamed Waldo, turning in flight.
-23-
Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
PROFESSOR FEATHERWIT
TAKING NOTES.
"To the house!" cried the
professor, raising his voice to overcome yonder sullen roar, which
was now beginning to come their way. "Trust all to the
aeromotor, and 'twill be well with us!"
The wiry little man of science himself fell to work with an energy which told how serious he regarded the emergency, and, acting under his lead, the brothers manfully played their part.
Just as had been done many times before this day, a queer-looking machine was shoved out from the shed, gliding along the wooden ways prepared for that express purpose, while Professor Featherwit hurried aboard a few articles which past experience warned him might prove of service in the hours to come, then sharply cried to his nephews:
"Get aboard, lads! Time enough, yet none to spare in idle motions. See! The storm is drifting our way in deadly earnest!"
-24-
And so it seemed, in good sooth.
Now fairly at its dread work of
destruction, tearing up the rain dampened dirt and playing with
mighty boulders, tossing them here and there, as a giant of olden
tales might play with jackstones, snapping off sturdy trees and
whipping them to splinters even while hurling them as a farmer sows
his grain.
Just the one brief look at that
aerial monster, then both lads hung fast to the hand-rail of rope,
while the professor put that cunning machinery in motion, causing the
air-ship to rise from its ways with a sudden swooping movement, then
soaring upward and onward, in a fair curve, as graceful and steady as
a bird on wing.
All this took some little time, even
while the trio were working as men only can when dear life is at
stake; but the flying-machine was afloat and fairly off upon the most
marvellous journey mortals ever accomplished, and that ere yonder
death-balloon could cover half the distance between.
"Grand! Glorious! Magnificent!"
fairly exploded the professor, when he could risk a more
comprehensive look, right hand tightly gripping the polished lever
through which he controlled that admirable mechanism. "I have
longed for just such an opportunity, and now -- the camera, Bruno! We
must
-25-
never neglect to improve such a marvellous chance for -- get
out the camera, lad!"
"Get out of the road, rather!"
bluntly shouted Waldo, face unusually pale, as he stared at yonder
awful force in action. "Of course I'm not scared, or anything
like that, uncle Phaeton, but -- I want to rack out o' this just
about the quickest the law allows! Yes, I do, now!"
"Wonderful! Marvellous!
Incredible! That rara avis, an exception to all exceptions!"
declared the professor, more deeply stirred than either of his
nephews had ever seen him before. "A genuine tornado which has
no eastern drift; which heads as directly as possible towards the
northwest, and at the same time -- incredible!"
Only ears of his own caught these
sentences in their entirety, for now the storm was fairly bellowing
in its might, formed of a variety of sounds which baffles all
description, but which, in itself, was more than sufficient to chill
the blood of even a brave man. Yet, almost as though magnetised by
that frightful force, the professor was holding his air-ship steady,
loitering there in its direct path, rather than fleeing from what
surely would prove utter destruction to man and machine alike.
For a few moments Bruno withstood
the temptation,
-26-
but then leaned far enough to grasp both hand and tiller,
forcing them in the requisite direction, causing the aeromotor to
swing easily around and dart away almost at right angles to the track
of the tornado.
That roar was now as of a thousand
heavily laden trains rumbling over hollow bridges, and the professor
could only nod his approval when thus aroused from the dangerous
fascination. Another minute, and the air-ship was floating towards
the rear of the balloon-shaped cloud itself, each second granting the
passengers a varying view of the wonder.
True to the firm hand which set its
machinery in motion, the flying-machine maintained that gentle curve
until it swung around well to the rear of the cloud, where again
Professor Featherwit broke out in ecstatic praises of their
marvellous good fortune.
" 'Tis worth a life's ransom,
for never until now hath mortal being been blessed with such a
magnificent opportunity for taking notes and drawing deductions which
-- "
The professor nimbly ducked his head
to dodge a ragged splinter of freshly torn wood which came whistling
past, cast far away from the tornado proper by those erratic winds.
And at the same instant the machine itself recoiled, shivering and
creaking in all
-27-
its cunning joints under a gust of wind which seemed composed
of both ice and fire.
"Oh, I say!" gasped Waldo,
when he could rally from the sudden blow. "Turn the old thing
the other way, uncle Phaeton, and let's go look for -- well, almost
anything's better than this old cyclone!"
"Tornado, lad," swiftly
corrected the man of precision, leaning far forward, and gazing
enthralled upon the vision which fairly thrilled his heart to its
very centre. "Never again may we have such another opportunity
for making -- "
They were now directly in the rear
of the storm, and as the air-ship headed across that track of
destruction, it gave a drunken stagger, casting down its inmates,
from whose parching lips burst cries of varying import.
"Air! I'm choking!" gasped
Bruno, tearing open his shirt-collar with a spasmodic motion.
"Hold me fast!" echoed
Waldo, clinging desperately to the life-line. "It's drawing me
-- into the -- ah!"
Even the professor gave certain
symptoms of alarm for that moment, but then the danger seemed past as
the ship darted fairly across the storm-trail, hovering to the east
of that aerial phantom.
-28-
There was no difficulty in filling
their lungs now, and once more Professor Featherwit headed the
flying-machine directly for the balloon-shaped cloud, modulating its
pace so as to maintain their relative position fairly well.
"Take note how it progresses,
-- by fits and starts, as it were," observed Featherwit, now in
his glory, eyes asparkle and muscles aquiver, hair bristling as
though full of electricity, face glowing with almost painful
interest, as those shifting scenes were for ever imprinted upon his
brain.
"Sort of a hop, step, and jump,
and that's a fact," agreed Waldo, now a bit more at his ease
since that awful sense of suffocation was lacking. "I thought
all cyclones -- "
"Tornado, my dear boy!"
expostulated the professor.
"I thought they all went in
holy hurry, like they were sent for and had mighty little time in
which to get there. But this one, -- see how it stops to dance a jig
and bore holes in the earth!"
"Another exception to the
general rule, which is as you say," admitted the professor.
"Different tornadoes have been timed as moving from twelve to
seventy miles an hour, one passing a given point in half a score of
seconds, at another time being registered
-29-
as fully half an hour in clearing a single section.
"Take the destructive storm at
Mount Carmel, Illinois, in June of '77. That made progress at the
rate of thirty-four miles an hour, yet its force was so mighty that
it tore away the spire, vane, and heavy gilded ball of the Methodist
church, and kept it in air over a distance of fifteen miles.
"Still later was the Texas
tornado, doing its awful work at the rate of more than sixty miles an
hour; while that which swept through Frankfort, Kansas, on May 17,
1896, was fully a half-hour in crossing a half-mile stretch of
bottom-land adjoining the Vermillion River, pausing in its dizzy
waltz upon a single spot for long minutes at a time."
"Couldn't have been much left
when it got through dancing, if that storm was anything like this
one," declared Waldo, shivering a bit as he watched the awful
destruction being wrought right before their fascinated eyes.
Trees were twisted off and doubled
up like blades of dry grass. Mighty rocks were torn apart from the
rugged hills, and huge boulders were tossed into air as though
composed of paper. And over all ascended the horrid roar of ruin
beyond description, while from that misshapen balloon-cloud, with its
-30-
flattened top, the electric fluid shone and flashed, now in
great sheets as of flame, then in vicious spurts and darts as though
innumerable snakes of fire had been turned loose by the winds.
Still the aerial demon bored its
almost sluggish course straight towards the northwest, in this, as in
all else, seemingly bent on proving itself the exception to all
exceptions as Professor Featherwit declared.
The savant himself was now in his
glory, holding the tiller between arm and side, the better to
manipulate his hand-camera, with which he was taking repeated
snap-shots for future development and reference.
Truly, as he more than once
declared, mortal man never had, nor mortal man ever would have, such
a glorious opportunity for recording the varying phases of nature in
travail as was now vouchsafed themselves.
"Just think of it, lads!"
he cried, almost beside himself with enthusiasm. "This alone
will be sufficient to carry our names ringing through all time down
the corridors of undying fame! This alone would be more than enough
to -- Look pleasant, please!"
In spite of that awful vision so
perilously close before them, and the natural uncertainty which
attended
-31-
such a reckless venture, Waldo could not repress a chuckle at
that comical conclusion, so frequently used towards himself when
their uncle was coaxing them to pose before his pet camera.
"Is it -- surely this is not
safe, uncle Phaeton?" ventured Bruno, as another retrograde gust
of air smote their apparently frail conveyance with sudden force.
"Let's call it a day's work,
and knock off," chimed in Waldo. "If the blamed thing
should take a notion to balk, and rear back on its haunches, where'd
we come out at?"
Professor Featherwit made an
impatient gesture by way of answer. Speech just then would have been
worse than useless, for that tremendous roaring, crashing, thundering
of all sounds, seemed to fall back and envelop the air-ship as with a
pall.
A shower of sand and fine débris
poured over and around them, filling ears and mouths, and blinding
eyes for the moment, forcing the brothers closer to the floor of the
aerostat, and even compelling the eager professor to remit his taking
of notes for future generations.
Then, thin and reed-like, yet
serving to pierce that temporary obscurity and horrible jangle of
outer sounds, came the voice of their relative:
-32-
"Fear not, my children! The
Lord is our shield, and so long as he willeth, just so long shall we
-- Ha! didn't I tell ye so?"
For the blinding veil was torn away,
and once again the trio of adventurers might watch yonder grandly
awesome march of devastation.
"Heading direct for the
Olympics!" declared Professor Featherwit, digging the sand out
of his eyes and striving to clean his glasses without removing them,
clinging to tiller and camera through all. "What a grand and
glorious guide 'twould be for us!"
"If we could only hitch on --
like a tin can to the tail of a dog!" suggested Waldo, with
boyish sarcasm. "Not any of that in mine, thank you! I can wait.
No such mighty rush. No, -- sir!"
There came no answer to his words,
for just then that swooping air-demon turned to vivid fire, lightning
playing back and forth, from side to side, in every conceivable
direction, until in spite of the broad daylight its glory pained
those watching eyes.
"Did you ever witness the
like!" awesomely cried Bruno, gazing like one fascinated. "Who
could or would ever believe all that, even if tongue were able to
portray its wondrous beauty?"
"What a place that would be for
popping corn!"
-33-
contributed Waldo, practical or nothing, even under such
peculiar circumstances. "If I had to play poppy, though, I'd
want a precious long handle to the concern!"
More intensely interested than ever,
Professor Featherwit plied his shutter, taking shot after shot at
yonder aerial phenomena, feeling that future generations would surely
rise up to call him blessed when the results of his experiments were
once fairly spread before the world.
And hence it came to pass that still
more thrilling experiences came unto these daring navigators of
space, and that almost before one or the other of them could fairly
realise that greater danger really menaced both their air-ship and
their lives.
Another whirly-gust of sand and
other débris assailed the flying-machine, and while sight was
thus rendered almost useless for the time being, the aerostat began
to sway and reel from side to side, shivering as though caught by an
irresistible power, yet against which it battled as though instinct
with life and brain-power.
Once again the adventurers found it
difficult to breathe, while an unseen power seemed pressing them to
that floor as though -- Thank heaven!
Just as before, that cloud was swept
away, and
-34-
again air came to fill those painfully oppressed lungs. Once
again the trio cleared their eyes and stared about, only to utter
simultaneous cries of alarm.
For, brief though that period of
blindness had been, 'twas amply sufficient to carry the aeromotor
perilously near yonder storm-centre, and though Professor Featherwit
gripped hard his tiller, trying all he knew to turn the air-ship for
a safer quarter,-'twas all in vain!
"Haste, -- make haste, uncle
Phaeton!" hoarsely panted Bruno, leaning to aid the professor.
"We will be sucked in and -- hasten, for life!"
"I can't, -- we're already --
in the -- suction!"
-35-
Chapter 3
CHAPTER III.
RIDING THE TORNADO.
WHETHER it was that the air-ship
itself had increased its speed during those few moments of dense
obscurity, or whether the madly whirling winds had taken a retrograde
movement at that precise time, could only be a matter of conjecture;
but the ominous fact remained.
The aerostat was fairly over the danger-line, and, despite all efforts being made to the contrary, was being drawn directly towards that howling, crashing, thundering mass of destructive energy.
Already the inmates felt themselves being sucked from the flying-machine, and instinctively tightened their grip upon hand-rail and floor, gasping and oppressed, breath failing, and ribs apparently being crushed in by that horrible pressure.
"Hold fast -- for life!" pantingly screamed Professor Featherwit, as he strove in vain to check or change the course of his aeromotor, now for the first time beyond control of that master-hand.
-36-
A few seconds of soul-trying
suspense, during which the flying-machine shivered from stem to
stern, almost like a human creature in its death-agony, creaking and
groaning, with shrill sounds coming from those expanded, curved
wings, as the suction increased; then --
A merciful darkness fell over those
sorely imperilled beings, and the vessel itself seemed about to be
overwhelmed by an avalanche of sand and dirt and mixed débris.
Then came a dizzy, rocking lurch, followed by a shock which nearly
cast uncle and nephews from their frantic holds, and the air-ship
appeared to be whirled end for end, cast hither and yon, wrenched and
twisted as though all must go to ruin together.
A blast as of superheated air smote
upon them one moment, while in the next they were whirled through an
icy atmosphere, then tossed dizzily to and fro, as their too-frail
vehicle spun upward as though on a journey to the far-away stars.
A shrieking blast of wind served to
briefly clear away the choking dust, affording the trio a fleeting
glimpse of their immediate surroundings: hurtling sticks and stones,
splintered tops of trees, shrubs with wildly lashing roots freshly
torn from the bed of years, all madly spinning through a blinding,
-37-
scorching, freezing mass of crazily battling winds, the
different currents twining and weaving in and out, as so many hideous
serpents at play.
A moment thus, then that horrid
uproar grew still more deafening, and the air-ship was whirled high
and higher, in a dizzy dance, those luckless creatures clinging fast
to whatever their frenzied hands might clutch, feeling that this was
the end of all.
Further sight was denied them. They
were powerless to move a limb, save as jerked painfully by those
shrieking currents. Breath was taken away, and an enormous weight
bore down upon them, threatening to produce a fatal collapse through
their ribs giving way.
Upward whirled the flying-machine,
powerless now as those wretched beings within its cunning shape,
smitten sharply here and there by some of those ascending missiles,
yet without receiving material injury; until a last shivering lurch
came, ending in a sudden fall.
A dizzying swoop downward, but not
to death and destruction, for the aerostat alighted easily upon what
appeared to be a sort of air-cushion, and, though unsteady for a
brief space, then settled upon an even keel.
"Cling fast -- for life!"
huskily gasped the professor,
-38-
unwittingly repeating the caution which had last crossed his
lips, which he had ever since been striving to enunciate, faithful to
his guardianship over these, his sole surviving relatives.
"I don't -- where are we?"
Waldo lifted his head to peer with
half-blind eyes about them, in which action he was imitated by both
brother and uncle; but, for a brief space, they were none the wiser.
All around the aeromotor rose a wall
of whirling winds, seemingly impenetrable, apparently within reach of
an extended arm, changing colour with each fraction of a second,
hideously beautiful, yet never twice the same in blend or mixture.
A hollow, strangely sounding roar
was perceptible; one instant coming as from the far distance, then
from nigh at hand, causing the air-ship to quiver and tremble, as a
sentient being might in the presence of a torturing death.
"Look -- upward!" panted
Bruno, a few seconds later, his face as pale as that of a corpse, in
spite of the dirt and blotches of sticky mud with which he had been
peppered during that dizzy whirl.
Mechanically his companions in peril
obeyed, catching breath sharply, as they saw a clear sky and yellow
sunshine far above, -- so awfully far they were,
-39-
that it seemed like looking upward from the bottom of an
enormously deep well.
And then the marvellous truth
flashed upon the brain of Phaeton Featherwit, almost robbing him of
all power of speech. Still he managed to jerkily ejaculate:
"We're inside, -- riding the --
tornado -- itself!"
Then those whirling winds closed
quickly above them, shutting out the sunlight, hiding the heavens
from their view, enclosing that vehicle and its occupants, as they
were borne away into unknown regions, within the very heart of the
tornado itself!
Yet, incredible as it surely seems,
no actual harm came to the trio or to their flying-machine as it
swayed gently upon its airy cushion, although from every side came
the horrid roar of destruction, while ever and anon they could
glimpse a wrestling tree or torn mass of shrubbery whizzing upward
and outward, to be flung far away beyond the vortex of electrical
winds.
Once more came that awful sense of
suffocation. That painted pall closed down upon them, robbing their
lungs of air, one instant fairly crisping their hair with a touch of
fire, only to send an icy chill to their veins a moment later.
In vain they struggled, fighting for
breath, as a
-40-
fish gasps when swung from its native element. While that
horrid pressure endured, man, youth, and boy alike were powerless.
Again the pall lifted, folding back
and blending with those madly circling currents, once again affording
a glimpse of yonder far-away heavens, so marvellously clear, and
bright, and peaceful in seeming!
Weakened by those terrible moments,
Bruno and Waldo lay gasping, trembling, faint of heart and ill of
body, yet filling their lungs with comparatively pure air, -- pity
there was so little of it to win!
Professor Featherwit still had
thought and care for his nephews rather than himself alone, and
pantingly spoke, as he dragged himself to the snug locker, where many
important articles had been stowed away:
"Here -- suck life --
compressed air!"
With husky cries the brothers caught
at the tubes offered, the method of working which had so often been
explained by their relative.
Once more the tube became a chamber,
and that horrid force threatened to flatten their bodies; but the
worst had passed, for that precious cylinder now gave them air to
inhale, and they were enabled to wait for the lifting of the cloud
once more.
Thanks to this important agency,
strength and
-41-
energy both of body and of mind now came back to the
air-voyagers, and after a little they could lift their heads to peer
around them with growing wonder and curiosity.
There was little room left for
doubting the wondrous truth, and yet belief was past their powers
during those first few minutes.
All around them whirled and sped
those maddened winds, curling and twisting, rising and falling,
mixing in and out as though some unknown power might be weaving the
web of destiny.
Now dull, now brilliant, never twice
the same, but ever changing in colour as in shape, while stripes and
zigzags of lightning played here and there with terrifying menace,
those walls of wind held an awfully fascinating power for uncle and
nephews.
From every side came deadened sounds
which could bear but a single interpretation: the tornado was still
in rapid motion, was still tearing and rending, crushing and
battering, leaving dire destruction and ruin to mark its advance, and
these were the sounds that recorded its ugly work.
In goodly measure revived by the
compressed air, which was regulated in flow to suit his requirements
by a device of his own, Professor Featherwit now looked around with
something of his wonted animation,
-42-
heedless of his own peril for the moment, so great was his
interest in this marvellous happening.
So utterly incredible was it all
that, during those first few minutes of rallying powers, he dared not
express the belief which was shaping itself, gazing around in quest
of still further confirmation.
He took note of the windy walls
about their vessel, rising upward for many yards, irregular in shape
and curvature here and there, but retaining the general semblance of
a tube with flaring top. He peered over the edge of the basket, to
draw back dizzily as he saw naught but yeasty, boiling, seething
clouds below, -- a veritable air-cushion which had served to save the
pet of his brain from utter destruction at the time of falling within
--
Yes, there was no longer room for
doubt, -- they were actually inside the distorted balloon, so dreaded
by all residents of the tornado belt!
"What is it, uncle?"
huskily asked Bruno, likewise rallying under that beneficial
influence. "Where are we now?"
"Where I'm wishing mighty hard
we wasn't, anyhow!" contributed Waldo, with something of his
usual energy, although, judging from his face and eyes, the youngster
had suffered more severely than either of his comrades in peril.
-43-
IN THE HEART OF THE TORNADO.
-45-
Professor Featherwit broke into a
queerly sounding laugh, as he waved his free hand in exultation
before speaking:
"Where no living being ever was
before us, my lads, -- riding the tornado like a -- ugh!"
The air-ship gave an awkward lurch
just then, and down went the little professor to thump his head
heavily against one corner of the locker. Swaying drunkenly from side
to side, then tossing up and down, turning in unison with those
fiercely whirling clouds, the aeromotor seemed at the point of wreck
and ruin.
Desperately the trio clung to the
life-lines, clenching teeth upon the life-giving tubes as that
terrible pressure increased so much that it seemed impossible for the
human frame to longer resist.
Fortunately that ordeal did not long
endure, and again relief came to those so sorely oppressed. A brief
gasping, sighing, stretching as the aerostat resumed its level
position, merely rocking easily within that partial vacuum, and then
Waldo huskily suggested:
"Looks like the blame thing was
sick at the stomach!"
No doubt this was meant for a feeble
attempt at joking, but Professor Featherwit took it for earnest, and
made quick reply:
-46-
"That is precisely the case, my
dear lad, and I am greatly joyed to find that you are not so badly
frightened but that you can assist me in taking notes of this
wondrous happening. To think that we are the ones selected for -- "
"I say, uncle Phaeton."
"Well, my lad?"
"If this thing is really sick
at the stomach, when will it erupt? I'd give a dollar and a half to
just get out o' this, science or no science, notes or no notes at
all!"
"Patience, my dear boy,"
gravely spoke the little man of science, busily studying those
eddying currents like one seeking a fairly safe method of extrication
from peril. "It may come far sooner than you think, and with
results more disastrous than feeble words can tell. We surely are a
burden such as a tornado must be wholly unaccustomed to, and I really
believe these alternations are spasmodic efforts of the cloud itself
to vomit us forth; hence you were nearer right than you thought in
making use of that expression."
Just then came a rush of icy air,
and Bruno pantingly cried:
"I'm swelling up -- like Æsop's
-- bullfrog!"
-47-
Chapter 4
CHAPTER IV.
THE PROFESSOR'S
LITTLE EXPERIMENT.
AGAIN those involuntary riders of
the tornado were tossed violently to and fro in their seemingly frail
ship, while the balloon itself appeared threatened with instant
dissolution, those eddying currents growing broken and far less
regular in action, while the fierce tumult grew in sound and volume a
thousandfold.
All around the air-ship now showed ugly débris, limbs and boughs and even whole trunks of giant trees being whirled upward and outward, each moment menacing the vessel with total destruction, yet as frequently vanishing without infringing seriously upon their curious prison.
Sand and dirt and fragments of shattered rock whistled by in an apparently unending shower, only with reversed motion, flying upward in place of shooting downward to earth itself.
Speech was utterly impossible under the circumstances,
-48-
and the fate-tossed voyagers could only cling fast to the
hand-rail, and hold those precious air-tubes in readiness for the
worst.
Never before had either of the trio
heard such a deafening crash and uproar, and little wonder if they
thought this surely must herald the crack of doom!
The tornado seemed to reel backward,
as though repulsed by an immovable obstacle, and then, while the din
was a bit less deafening, Professor Featherwit contrived to make
himself heard, through screaming at the top of his voice:
"The mountain range, I fancy!
It's a battle to the -- "
That sentence was perforce left
incomplete, since the storm-demon gave another mad plunge to renew
the battle, bringing on a repetition of that drunken swaying so
upsetting to both mind and body.
A few seconds thus, then the tornado
conquered, or else rose higher in partial defeat, for their progress
was resumed, and comparative quiet reigned again.
The higher clouds curved backward,
affording a wider view of the heavens far above, and, as all eyes
turned instinctively in that direction, Bruno involuntarily
exclaimed:
-49-
"Still daylight! I thought --
how long has this lasted?"
"It's the middle o' next week;
no less!" positively affirmed his brother. "Don't tell me!
We've been in here a solid month, by my watch!"
Instead of making reply such as
might have been expected from one of his mathematical exactness,
Professor Featherwit gave a cry of dismay, while hurriedly moving to
and fro in their contracted quarters, for the time being forgetful of
all other than this, his great loss.
"What is it, uncle Phaeton?"
asked Bruno, rising to his knees in natural anxiety. "Surely
nothing worse than has already happened to us?"
"Worse? What could be worse
than losing for ever -- the camera, boys; where is the camera, I ask
you?"
Certainly not where the professor
was looking, and even as he roared forth that query, his heart told
him the sad truth; past doubting, the instrument upon whose aid he
relied to place upon record these marvellous facts, so that all
mankind might see and have full faith, was lost, -- thrown from the
aerostat, to meet with certain destruction, when the vessel first
came within the tornado's terrible clutch.
"Gone, -- lost, -- and now who
will believe that we
-50-
ever -- oh, this is enough to crush one's very soul!"
mourned the professor, throwing up his hands, and sinking back to the
floor of the flying-machine in a limp and disheartened heap for the
time being.
Neither Bruno nor Waldo could fully
appreciate that grief, since thoughts and care for self were still
the ruling passion with both; but once more they were called upon to
do battle with the swaying of the winds, and once again were they
saved only through that life-giving cylinder of compressed air.
Presently, the heart-broken
professor rallied, as was his nature, and, with a visible effort
putting his great loss behind him, endeavoured to cheer up his
comrades in peril.
"So far we have passed through
all danger without receiving material injury, -- to ourselves, I
mean, -- and surely it is not too much to hope for eventual escape?"
he said, earnestly, pressing the hands of his nephews, by way of
additional encouragement.
"Yes," hesitated Bruno,
with an involuntary shiver, as he glanced around them upon those
furiously boiling clouds, then cast an eye upward, towards yonder
clear sky. "Yes, but -- in what manner?"
"What'll we do when the cyclone
goes bu'st?"
-51-
cut in Waldo, with disagreeable bluntness. "It can't go
on for ever, and when it splits up, -- where will we be then?"
"I wish it lay within my power
to give you full assurance on all points, my dear boys," the
professor made reply. "I only wish I could ensure your perfect
safety by giving my own poor remnant of life -- "
"No, no, uncle Phaeton!"
cried the brothers, in a single breath.
"How cheerfully, if I only
might!" insisted the professor, his homely face wearing an
expression of blended regret and unbounded affection. "But for
me you would never have encountered these perils, nor ever -- "
Again he was interrupted by the
brothers, and forced to leave that regret unspoken to the end.
"Only for you, uncle Phaeton,
what would have become of us when we were left without parents, home,
fortune? Only for you, taking us in and treating us as though of your
own flesh and blood -- "
"As you are, my good lads! Let
it pass, then, but I must say that I do wish -- well, well, let it
pass, then!"
A brief silence, which was spent in
gripping hands
-52-
and with eyes giving pledges of love and undying confidence;
then Professor Featherwit spoke again, in an entirely different vein.
"If nothing else, we have
exploded one fallacy which has never met with contradiction, so far
as my poor knowledge goes."
"And that is -- what, uncle
Phaeton?"
"Observe, my lads," with a
wave of his hand towards those whirling walls, and then making a
downward motion. "You see that we are floating in a partial
vacuum, yet where there is air sufficient to preserve life under
difficulties. And by looking downward -- careful that you don't fall
overboard through dizziness, though!"
"Looks as though we were
floating just above a bed of ugly wind!" declared Waldo, after
taking a look below.
"Precisely; the aerostat rests
upon an air-cushion amply solid enough to sustain far more than our
combined weight. But what is the generally accepted view, my dear
boys?"
"You tell, for we don't know
how," frankly acknowledged Waldo.
"Thanks. Yet you are now far
wiser than all of the scientists who have written and published whole
libraries concerning these storm formations, but
-53-
whose fallacies we are now fully prepared to explode, once for
all, through knowledge won by personal investigation -- ahem!"
Strange though it may appear, the
professor forgot the mutual danger by which they were surrounded, and
trotted off on his hobby-horse in blissful pride, paying no attention
to the hideous uproar going on, only raising his voice higher to make
it heard by his youthful auditors.
"The common belief is that,
while these tornadoes are hollow, even through the trunk or tongue
down to its contact with the earth, that hollow is caused by a
constant suction, through which a steady stream of débris is
flowing, to be sown broadcast for miles around after emerging from
the open top of the so-called balloon."
"But it isn't at all like
that," eagerly cried Waldo, pointing to where the fragments were
flowing upward through those walls themselves, yet far enough from
that hollow interior to be but indistinctly seen save on rare
occasions. "Look at 'em scoot, will ye? Oh, if we could only
climb up like that!"
Professor Featherwit was keenly
watching and closely studying that very phenomena through all, and
now he gave a queer little chuckle, as he nodded his head with
vigour, before dryly speaking.
-54-
"Well, it might be done; yes,
it might be done, and that with no very serious difficulty, my lad."
"How? Why not try it on, then?"
"To meet with instant death
outside?" sharply queried Bruno. "It would be suicidal to
make the attempt, even if we could; which I doubt."
Waldo gave a sudden cry, pointing
upward where, far above that destructive storm, could be seen a brace
of buzzards floating on motionless wings, wholly undisturbed by the
tumult below.
"If we were only like that!"
the lad cried, longingly. "If a flying-machine could be built
like those turkey-buzzards! I wish -- well, I do suppose they're
about the nastiest varmints ever hatched, but just now I'd be willing
to swap, and wouldn't ask any boot, either!"
Apparently the professor paid no
attention to this boyish plaint, for he was fumbling in the locker,
then withdrew his hand and uncoiled an ordinary fish-line, with
painted float attached.
Before either brother could ask a
question, or even give a guess at his purpose, Professor Phaeton
flung hook and cork into those circling currents, only to have the
whole jerked violently out of his grip, the line flying upward, to
vanish from the sight of all.
That jerk was powerful enough to cut
through the
-55-
skin of his hand, but the professor chuckled like one
delighted, as he sucked away the few drops of blood before adding:
"I knew it! It can be
done, and if the worst should come to pass, why should it not be
done?"
Before an answer could be vouchsafed
by either of the brothers, the pall swooped down upon them once more,
and again the supply of natural air was shut off, while their vessel
was rocked and swayed crazily, just as though the delayed end was at
last upon them.
For several minutes this torture
endured, each second of which appeared to be an hour to those
imperilled beings, who surely must have perished, as they lay pinned
fast to the floor of the aerostat by that pitiless weight, only for
the precious air-tubes in connection with that cylinder of compressed
air.
After a seeming age of torment the
awful pressure was relaxed, leaving the trio gasping and shivering,
as they lay side by side, barely conscious that life lingered, for
the moment unable to lift hand or head to aid either self or another.
In spite of his far greater age,
Professor Featherwit was first to rally, and his voice was about the
first thing distinguished by the brothers, as their powers began to
rally.
-56-
"Shall we take our chances,
dear boys?" the professor was saying, in earnest tones. "I
believe there is a method of escaping from this hell-chamber,
although of what may lie beyond -- "
"It can't well be worse than
this!" huskily gasped Bruno.
"Anything -- everything -- just
to get out o' here!" supplemented Waldo, for once all spirits
subdued.
"It may be death for us all,
even if we do get outside," gravely warned the professor. "Bear
that in mind, dear boys. It may be that not one of us will escape
with life, after -- "
"How much better to remain
here?" interrupted Bruno. "I felt death would be a mercy --
then! And I'd risk anything, everything, rather than go through such
another ordeal! I say, -- escape!"
"Me too, all over!"
vigorously decided Waldo, lifting himself to both knees as he added:
"Tell us what to do, and here I am, on deck, uncle."
Even now Professor Phaeton
hesitated, his eyes growing dimmer than usual as they rested upon one
face after the other, for right well he knew how deadly would be the
peril thus invited.
But, as the brothers repeated their
cry, he turned away to swiftly knot a strong trail-rope to a heavy
-57-
iron grapnel, leaving the other end firmly attached to a
stanchion built for that express purpose.
"Hold fast, if you value life
at all, dear boys!" he warned, then added: "Heaven be kind
to you, even if my life pays the forfeit! Now!"
Without further delay, he cast the
heavy grapnel into that mass of boiling vapour, then fell flat, as an
awful jerk was given the aerostat.
-58-
Chapter 5
CHAPTER V.
THE PROFESSOR'S
UNKNOWN LAND.
THERE was neither time nor
opportunity for taking notes, for that long rope straightened out in
the fraction of a second, throwing all prostrate as the
flying-machine was jerked upward with awful force.
All around them raged and roared the mighty winds, while missiles of almost every description pelted and pounded both machine and inmates during those few seconds of extraordinary peril.
Fortunately neither the professor nor his nephews could fairly realise just what was taking place, else their brains would hardly have stood the test; and fortunately, too, that ordeal was not protracted.
A hideous experience while it lasted, those vicious currents dragging the aerostat upward out of the air-chamber by means of grapnel and rope, then casting all far away in company with wrecked trees and bushes, and even solider materials, all shrouded for a time in dust and débris, which hindered the eyesight of both uncle and nephews.
-59-
Through it all the brothers were
dimly aware of one fact uncle Phaeton was shrilly bidding them cling
fast and have courage.
All at once they felt as though
vomited forth from a volcano which alternately breathed fire and ice,
the clear light of evening bursting upon their aching, smarting eyes
with actual pain, while that horrid roar of warring elements seemed
to pass away in the distance, leaving them -- where, and how?
"We're falling to -- merciful
heavens! Hold fast, all!" screamed the professor, desperately
striving to regain full command of their air-ship. "The tiller
is jammed, but -- "
To all seeming, the aerostat had
sustained some fatal damage during that brief eruption caused by the
professor's little experiment, for it was pitching drunkenly end for
end, refusing to obey the hand of its builder, bearing all to certain
death upon the earth far below.
Half stupefied with fear, the
brothers clung fast to the life-line and glared downward, noting, in
spite of themselves, how swiftly yonder dark tree-tops and gray crags
were shooting heavenward to meet them and claim the sacrifice.
With fierce energy Professor
Featherwit jerked and wrenched at the steering-gear, uttering words
-60-
such as had long been foreign to his lips, but then -- just
when destruction appeared inevitable -- a wild cry burst from his
lungs, as a broken bit of native wood came away in his left hand,
leaving the lever free as of old!
And then, with a dizzying swoop and
rapid recovery, the gallant air-ship came back to an even keel,
sailing along with old-time grace and ease, barely in time to avoid
worse mishap as the crest of a tall tree was brushed in their
passage.
"Saved, -- saved, my lads!"
screamed the professor, as his heart-pet soared upward once more
until well past the danger-line. "Safe and sound through all, --
praises be unto the Lord, our Father!"
Neither brother spoke just then, for
they lay there in half stupor, barely able to realise the wondrous
truth: that their lives had surely been spared them, even as by a
miracle!
That swooping turn now brought their
faces towards the tornado, which was at least a couple of miles
distant, rapidly making that distance greater even while continuing
its work of destruction.
"And we -- were in it!"
huskily muttered Bruno, his lids closing with a shiver, as he averted
his face, unwilling to see more.
"Heap sight worse than being in
the soup, too, if
-61-
anybody asks you," declared Waldo, beginning to rally
both in strength and in spirit. "But -- what's the matter with
the old ship, uncle Phaeton?"
For the aerostat was indulging
itself in sundry distressing gyrations, pretty much as a boy's kite
swoops from side to side, when lacking in tail-ballast, while the
professor seemed unable to keep the machine under complete control.
"Nothing serious, only -- hold
fast, all! I believe 'twould be as well to make our descent, for fear
something -- steady!"
Just ahead there appeared a more
than usually open space in the forest, and, quite as much by good
luck as through actual skill, Professor Featherwit succeeded in
making a landing with no more serious mishap than sundry bruises and
a little extra teeth-jarring.
As quickly as possible, both Bruno
and Waldo pitched themselves out of the partially disabled aeromotor,
the elder brother grasping the grapnel and taking a couple of turns
of the strong rope around a convenient tree-trunk, lest the ship
escape them altogether.
"No need, my gallant boy!"
assured the professor, an instant later. "All is well, -- all is
well, thanks to an over-ruling Providence!"
In spite of this expressed
confidence, he hurriedly
-62-
looked over his pet machine, taking note of such injuries as
had been received during that remarkable journey, only giving over
when fairly satisfied that all damage might be readily made good,
after which the aerostat would be as trustworthy as upon its first
voyage on high.
Then, grasping the brothers each by
a hand, he smiled genially, then lifted eyes heavenward, to a moment
later sink upon his knees with bowed head and hands folded across his
bosom.
Bruno and Waldo imitated his action,
and, though no audible words were spoken, never were more heartfelt
prayers sent upward, never more grateful thanks given unto the Most
High.
Boy, youth, and man alike seemed
fairly awed into silence for the next few minutes, unable to so soon
cast off the spell which had fallen upon them, one and each, when
realising how mercifully their lives had been spared, even after all
earthly hope had been abandoned.
As usual, however, Waldo was first
to rally, and, after silently moving around the aerostat, upon which
the professor was already busily at work by the last gleams of the
vanished sun, he paused, legs separated, and hands thrust deep into
pockets, head perking on one side as he spoke, drawlingly:
-63-
"I say, uncle Phaeton?"
"What is it, Waldo?"
"It'll never do to breathe even
a hint of all this, will it?"
"Why so, pray?"
"Whoever heard it would swear
we were bald-headed liars right from Storytown! And yet, -- did it
really happen, or have I been dreaming all the way through?"
Professor Featherwit gave a brief,
dry chuckle at this, rising erect to cast a deliberate glance around
their present location, then speaking:
"Without I am greatly mistaken,
my dear boy, you will have still other marvellous happenings to
relate ere we return to what is, rightfully or wrongfully, called
civilisation."
"Is that so? Then you really
reckon -- "
"For one thing, my lad, we are
now fairly entered upon a terra incognita, so far as our own race is
concerned. In other words, -- behold, the Olympics!"
Both Bruno and Waldo cast their eyes
around, but only a circumscribed view was theirs. The shades of
evening were settling fast, and on all sides they could see but
mighty trees, rugged rocks, a mountain stream from whose pebbly bed
came a soothing murmur.
-64-
"Nothing so mighty much to brag
of, anyway," irreverently quoth Waldo, after that short-lived
scrutiny. "It wouldn't fetch a dollar an acre at auction, and
for my part, -- wonder when the gong will sound for supper?"
That blunt hint was effective, and,
letting the subject drop for the time being, even the professor
joined in the hurry for an evening meal, to which one and all felt
able to do full justice.
Although some rain had fallen at
this point as well, no serious difficulty was experienced in kindling
a fire, while Waldo had little trouble in heaping up a bounteous
supply of fuel.
Through countless ages the forest
monarchs had been shedding their superfluous boughs, while here and
there lay an entire tree, overthrown by some unknown power, and upon
which the brothers made heavy requisition.
Professor Featherwit took from the
locker a supply of tinned goods, together with a patent coffee-pot
and frying-pan, so convenient where space is scarce and stowage-room
precious.
With water from the little river, it
took but a few minutes more to scent the evening with grateful fumes,
after which the adventurous trio squatted there in the ruddy glow,
eating, sipping, chatting,
-65-
now and again forced to give thanks for their really
miraculous preservation after all human hopes had been exhausted.
Although Professor Featherwit was
but little less thankful for the wondrous leniency shown them, he
could not altogether refrain from mourning the loss of his camera,
with its many snap-shots at the tornado itself, to say nothing of
what he might have secured in addition, while riding the storm so
marvellously.
More to take his thoughts away from
that loss than through actual curiosity in the subject offered by way
of substitute, Bruno asked for further light upon the so-called terra
incognita.
"Of course it isn't really an
unknown land, though, uncle Phaeton?" he added, almost
apologetically. "In this age, and upon our own continent, such a
thing is among the impossibilities."
"Indeed? And, pray, how long
since has it been that you would, with at least equal positivity,
have declared it impossible to enter a tornado while in wildest
career, yet emerge from it with life and limb intact?"
"Yes, uncle, but -- this is
different, by far."
"In one sense, yes; in another,
no," affirmed the professor, with emphatic nod, brushing the
tips of his fingers together, as he moved back to assume a
-66-
more comfortable position inside the air-ship, then quickly
preparing a pipe and tobacco for his regular after-meal smoke.
A brief silence, then the professor
spoke, clearly, distinctly:
"Washington has her great
unknown land, quite as much as has the interior of Darkest Africa, my
boys, besides enjoying this peculiar advantage: while adventurous
white men have traversed those benighted regions in every direction,
even though little permanent good may have been accomplished, this
terra incognita remains virgin in that particular sense of the word."
"You mean, uncle?"
"That here in the Olympic
region you see what is literally an unknown, unexplored scope of
country, as foreign to the foot of mankind as it was countless ages
gone by. So far as history reads, neither white man nor red has ever
ventured fairly within these limits; a mountainous waste which rises
from the level country, within ten or fifteen miles of the Straits of
San Juan de Fuca, in the north, the Pacific Ocean in the west, Hood's
Canal in the east, and the barren sand-hills lying to the far south.
"This irregular range is known
upon the map as the Olympics, and, rising to the height of from six
-67-
to eight thousand feet, shut in a vast unexplored area.
"The Indians have never
penetrated it, so far as can be ascertained, for their traditions say
that it is inhabited by a very fierce tribe of warriors, before whose
might and strange weapons not one of the coast tribes can stand."
"One of the Lost Tribes of
Israel, shouldn't wonder," drawlingly volunteered Waldo,
stifling a yawn, and forced to rub his inflamed eyes with a
surreptitious paw.
Professor Featherwit, though plainly
absorbed in his curious theory, was yet quick to detect this evidence
of weariness, and laughed a bit, with change of both tone and manner,
as he spoke further:
"That forms but a partial
introductory to my lecture, dear lads, but perhaps it might be as
well to postpone the rest for a more propitious occasion. You have
undergone sore trials, both of -- Hark!"
Some sound came to his keen ears,
which the brothers failed to catch, but as they bent their heads in
listening, another noise came, which proved startling enough, in all
conscience, -- a shrill, maniacal screech, which sent cold chills
running races up each spine.
-68-
Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI.
A BRACE OF UNWELCOME
VISITORS.
INSTINCTIVELY the brothers drew
nearer each other, as though for mutual protection, each one letting
hand drop to belt where a revolver was habitually carried, but which
was lacking now, thanks to the great haste with which they had taken
wing at the approach of the tornado.
"What is it? What can it mean?" asked Bruno and Waldo, almost in the same breath, as those fierce echoes died away in the distance.
Professor Featherwit made no immediate reply, but by the glow of yonder camp-fire he fumbled inside the magic locker, fetching forth firearms, then speaking in hushed tones:
"Wait. Listen for -- I knew it!"
From the opposite quarter came what might easily have been an echo of that first wild screech, only louder, longer, more savage, if such a thing be possible.
Prepared though they now were, neither brother
-69-
could refrain from shrinking and shuddering, so hideously that
cry sounded in their ears. But their uncle spoke in cool, clear
tones:
"There is nothing supernatural
about that, my lads. A panther or mountain lion, I dare say, scenting
the fumes of our cookery, and coming to claim a share."
"Then it isn't -- Nothing
spookish, uncle Phaeton?" ventured Waldo, in slightly unsteady
tones.
The professor gave swift assurance
upon that point, and, rallying as few youngsters would have done
under like circumstances, the brothers grasped the weapons supplied
their hands, waiting and watching for what was to come.
Once, twice, thrice those savage
calls echoed far and wide, but with each repetition losing a portion
of their terrors; and knowing now that prowling beasts surely were
drawing nigh the camp-fire, the flying machine was abandoned by the
trio, all drawing closer to the fire, which might prove no slight
protection against attack.
Then followed a period of utter
silence, during which their eyes roved restlessly around, striving to
sight the four-footed enemy ere an actual attack could be made.
Professor Featherwit was first to
glimpse a pair of
-70-
greenish eyes in silent motion, and, giving a low hiss of
warning to his nephews, that same sound serving to check further
progress on the part of the wild beast, his short rifle came to a
level, then emitted a peculiar sound.
Only the keenest of ears could have
noted that, for only the fraction of an instant later followed a
sharp explosion, the darkness beyond being briefly lit up by a
yellowish glare.
"That's enough, -- beware its
mate!" cried the professor, keenly alert for whatever might
ensue; but the words were barely across his lips when, with a vicious
snarl, a furry shape came flying through the air, knocking Featherwit
over as he instinctively ducked his head with arm flying up as
additional guard.
Both man and beast came very near
falling into the fire itself, and there ensued a wild, confused
scramble, out of which the brothers singled their enemy, Waldo
opening fire with a revolver, at close range, each shot causing the
lion to yell and snarl most ferociously.
A cat-like recovery, then the fatal
leap might have followed, for the confused professor was rising to
his feet again, fairly in front of the enraged brute; but ere worse
came, Waldo and Bruno were to the
-71-
rescue, one firing as rapidly as possible, his brother driving
a keen-bladed knife to the very hilt just back of that quivering
forearm.
One mad wrestle, in which both lads
were overthrown, then the gaunt and muscular brute stretched its
length in a shivering throe, dead even while it strove to slay.
Just as the professor hurried to the
front, beseeching his boys to keep out of peril if they loved him; at
which Waldo laughed outright, although never had he felt a warmer
love for the same odd-speaking, queer-acting personage than right at
that moment.
"I'm all right; how's it with
you, sir? And -- Bruno?"
"Without a scratch to remember
it by," promptly asserted the elder brother, likewise regaining
his feet and taking hasty account of stock. "No fault of his,
though!" giving that carcass a kick as he spoke. "My
gracious! I caught just one glimpse of them, and I was ready to make
affidavit that each fang would measure a foot, while his claws -- "
"Would pass through an elephant
and clinch on the other side," declared Waldo, stooping far
enough to lift one of those armed paws. "But, I say, Bruno, how
awfully they have shrunk, since then!"
Whether so intended or not, this
characteristic
-72-
break caused a mutual laugh, and, as there was neither sound
nor sign of further danger from like source, one and all satisfied
their curiosity by minutely inspecting the huge brute, stirring up
the fire for that purpose.
"An ugly customer, indeed, if
we had given him anything like a fair show," gravely uttered the
professor. "Only for your prompt assistance, my dear boys, what
would have become of poor me?"
"We acted on our own account,
as well, please remember, uncle. And even so, after all you have done
for us since -- "
"What was it you shot at, uncle
Phaeton?" interrupted Waldo, who was constitutionally averse to
aught which savoured of sentiment. "Another one of these --
little squirrels, was it?"
Snatching up a blazing brand, the
lad moved off in that direction, whirling the torch around his head
until it burst into clear flame, then lowering it closer to a bloody
heap of fur and powerful limbs, to give a short ejaculation of
wondering awe.
It was a headless body upon which he
gazed, ragged fragments of skin and a few splinters of bone alone
remaining to tell that a solid skull had so recently been thereon.
Professor Phaeton gave another of
his peculiar
-73-
little chuckles, as he drew near, then patted the compact
little rifle with which he had wrought such extraordinary work: a
weapon of his own invention, as were the dynamite-filled shells to
match.
"Although I am rather puny
myself, boys, with this neat little contrivance I could fairly well
hold my own against man or beast," he modestly averred.
"A modern David," gravely
added Bruno, while Waldo chimed in with:
"What a dandy Jack the
Giant-killer you would have been, uncle Phaeton, if you had only
lived in the good old days! I wish -- and yet I don't, either! Of
course, it might have been jolly old sport right then, but now, --
where'd I be, to-day?"
"A day on which has happened a
miracle far more marvellous than all that has been set down in
fairyland romance, my dear son," earnestly spoke the professor.
"And when the astounding truth shall have been published,
broadcast, throughout all Christendom, what praises -- "
"How thoroughly we shall be
branded liars, and falsificationers from `way up the crick'!"
exploded the youngster, making a wry grimace and moving on to view
the headless lion from a different standpoint.
"He means well, uncle Phaeton,"
assured Bruno,
-74-
in lowered tones. "He would not knowingly hurt your
feelings, sir, but -- may I speak out?"
"Why not?" quickly.
"Surely I am not one to stand in awe of, lad?"
"One to be loved and
reverenced, rather," with poorly hidden emotion; then rallying,
to add, "But when one finds it impossible to realise all that
has happened this afternoon, when one feels afraid to even make an
effort at such belief, how can the boy be blamed for feeling that all
others would pronounce us mad or -- wilful liars?"
Professor Phaeton saw the point, and
made a wry grimace while roughing up his pompadour and brushing his
closely trimmed beard with doubtful hand. After all, was the whole
truth to be ever spoken?
"Well, well, we can determine
more clearly after fully weighing the subject," he said, turning
back towards the flying-machine. "And, after all, what has
happened to us thus far may not seem so utterly incredible after our
explorations are completed."
"Of this region, do you mean,
sir?"
"Of the Olympic mountains, and
all their mountainous chain may encompass, -- yes," curtly spoke
the man of hopes, stepping inside the aerostat to perfect his
arrangements for the night.
Waldo took greater pleasure in
viewing the mountain
-75-
lion towards whose destruction he had so liberally
contributed, but when he spoke of removing the skin, Bruno objected.
"Why take so much trouble for
nothing, Waldo? Even if we could stow the pelts away on board, they
would make a far from agreeable burden. And if what I fancy lies
before us is to come true, the more lightly we are weighted, the more
likely we are to come safely to -- well, call it civilisation, just
for a change."
"Then you believe that uncle
Phaeton is really in earnest about exploring this region, Bruno?"
"He most assuredly is. Did you
ever know him to speak idly, or to be otherwise than in earnest,
Waldo?"
"Well, of course uncle is all
right, but -- sometimes -- "
A friendly palm slipped over those
lips, cutting short the speech which might perchance have left a
sting behind. And yet the worthy professor had no more enthusiastic
acolyte than this same reckless speaking youngster, when the truth
was all told.
Leaving the animals where they had
fallen, for the time being, the brothers passed over to where rested
the aeromotor, finding the professor busily engaged in rigging up a
series of fine wires, completely surrounding
-76-
the flying-machine, save for one narrow, gate-like
arrangement.
"Beginning to feel as though
you could turn in for all night, eh, my boys?" came his cheery
greeting.
"Well, somehow I do feel as
though `the sandman' had been making his rounds rather earlier than
customary," dryly said Waldo, winking rapidly. "I believe
there must have been a bit more wind astir to-day than common,
although neither of you may have noticed the fact."
Professor Featherwit chuckled softly
while at work, but neither he nor Bruno made reply in words. And
then, his arrangements perfected save for closing the circuit, which
could only be done after all hands had entered the air-ship, he spoke
to the point:
"Come, boys. You've had a rough
bit of experience this day, and there may be still further trouble in
store, here in this unknown land. Better make sure of a full night's
rest, and thus have a reserve fund to draw upon in case of need."
There was plenty of sound common
sense in this adjuration, and, only taking time to procure a can of
fresh water from yonder stream, the two youngsters stepped within
that charmed circle, permitting their uncle to close the circuit, and
then test the
-77-
queer contrivance to make sure all was working nicely.
A confused sound broke forth,
resembling the faraway tooting of tin horns, which blended
inharmoniously with the ringing of nearer bells, all producing a
noise which was warranted to arouse the heaviest sleeper from his
soundest slumber.
"That will give fair warning in
case any intruder drifts this way," declared the professor,
chucklingly, then sinking down and wrapping himself up in a
close-woven blanket, similar to those employed by the boys.
"Even a ghost, or a goblin, do
you reckon, uncle Phaeton?"
"Should such attempt to
intrude, yes. Go to sleep, you young rascal!"
But that proved to be far more
readily spoken than lived up to. Not but that the brothers were
weary, jaded, and sore of muscle enough to make even the thought of
slumber agreeable; but their recent experience had been so thrilling,
so nerve-straining, so far apart from the ordinary routine of life,
that hours passed ere either lad could fairly lose himself in sleep.
Still, when unconsciousness did
steal over their weary brains, it proved to be all the more complete,
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and after that neither Bruno nor Waldo stirred hand or foot
until, well after the dawn of a new day, Professor Featherwit shook
first one and then the other, crying shrilly:
"Turn out, youngsters! A new
day, and plenty of work to be done!"
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Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
THE PROFESSOR'S
GREAT ANTICIPATIONS.
A STRETCH and a yawn, which in
Waldo's case ended in a prolonged howl, which would not have
disgraced either of their four-footed visitors of the past evening,
then the brothers Gillespie sprung forth from the flying-machine,
entering upon a race for the brawling mountain stream, "shedding"
their garments as they ran.
"First man in!" cried Bruno, whose clothes seemed to slip off the more readily; but Waldo was not to be outdone so easily, and, reckless of the consequences, he plunged into the eddying pool, with fully half of his daylight rig still in place.
The water proved to be considerably deeper than either brother had anticipated, and Waldo vanished from sight for a few seconds, then reappearing with lusty puff and splutter, shaking the pearly drops from his close-clipped curls, while ranting:
"Another vile fabrication nailed to the standard of truth, and clinched by the hammer of -- ouch!"
-80-
A wild flounder, then the youngster
fairly doubled himself up, acting so strangely that Bruno gave a
little cry of alarm; but ere the elder brother could take further
action, Waldo swung his right arm upward and outward, sending a
goodly sized trout flashing through the air to the shore, crying in
boyish enthusiasm:
"Glory in great chunks! I want
to camp right here for a year to come! Will ye look at that now?"
Bruno had to dodge that writhing
missile, and, before he could fairly recover himself, Waldo had
floundered ashore, leaving a yeasty turmoil in his wake, but then
throwing up a dripping hand, and speaking in an exaggerated whisper:
"Whist, boy! On your life, not
so much as the ghost of a whimper! The hole's ramjammed chuck full of
trout, and we'll have a meal fit for the gods if -- where's my
fishing tackle?"
Bruno picked up the trout, so
queerly brought to light, really surprised, but feigning still
further, as he made his examination.
"It really is a trout,
and -- how long have you carried this about in your clothes, Waldo
Gillespie?"
"Not long enough for you to
build a decent joke over it, brother mine. Just happened so. Tried to
ram its nose in one of my pockets, and of course I
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had to take him in out of the wet. Pool's just full of them,
too, and I wouldn't wonder if -- oh, quit your talking, and do
something, can't you, boy?"
Vigorously though he spoke, Waldo
wound up with a shiver and sharp chatter of teeth as the fresh
morning air struck through his dripping garments. He gave a coltish
prance, as he turned to seek his fishing tackle; but, unfortunately
for his hopes of speedy sport, the professor was nigh enough to both
see and hear, and at once took charge of the reckless youngster.
"Wet to the hide, and upon an
empty stomach, too! You foolish child! Come, strip to the buff, and
put on some of these garments until -- here by the fire, Waldo."
And thus taken in tow, the lad was
forced to slowly but thoroughly toast his person beside the freshly
started fire, ruefully watching his brother deftly handle rod and
line, in a remarkably short space of time killing trout enough to
furnish all with a bounteous meal.
"And I was the discoverer,
while you reap all the credit, have all the fun!" dolefully
lamented Waldo, when the catch was displayed with an ostentation
which may have covered just a tiny bit of malice. "I'll put a
tin ear on you, Amerigo Vespucius!"
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"All right; we'll have a merry
go together, after you've cleaned the trout for cooking, lad,"
laughed his elder.
Waldo gazed reproachfully into that
bright face for a brief space, then bowed head in joined hands, to
sob in heartfelt fashion, his sturdy frame shaking with poorly
suppressed grief -- or mirth?
Bruno passed an arm caressingly over
those shoulders, murmuring words of comfort, earnestly promising to
never sin again in like manner, provided he could find forgiveness
now. And then, with deft touch, that same hand held his garment far
enough for its mate to let slip a wriggling trout adown his brother's
back.
Waldo howled and jumped wildly, as
the cold morsel slipped along his spine, and ducking out of reach,
the elder jester called back:
"Land him, boy, and you've
caught another fish!"
Although laughing heartily himself,
Professor Featherwit deemed it a part of wisdom to interfere now,
and, ere long, matters quieted down, all hands engaged in preparing
the morning meal, for which all teeth were now fairly on edge.
If good nature had been at all
disturbed, long before that breakfast was despatched it was fully
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restored, and of the trio, Waldo appeared to be the most
enthusiastic over present prospects.
"Why, just think of it, will
you?" he declaimed, as well as might be with mouth full of
crisply fried mountain trout. "where the game comes begging for
you to bowl it over, and the very fish try to jump into your pockets
-- "
"Or down your back, Amerigo,"
interjected Bruno, with a grin.
"Button up, or you'll turn to
be a Sorry-cus -- tomer / , old man,"
came the swift retort, with a portentous frown. "But, joking
aside, why not? With such hunting and fishing, I'd be willing to sign
a contract for a round year in this region."
"To say nothing of exploration,
and such discoveries as naturally attend upon -- "
"Then you really mean it all,
uncle Phaeton?"
Leaning back far enough to pluck a
handful of green leaves, which fairly well served the purpose of a
napkin, Professor Featherwit brought forth pipe and pouch,
maintaining silence until the fragrant tobacco was well alight. Then
he gave a vigorous nod of his head, to utter:
"It has been the dearest dream
of my life for more years gone by than you would readily credit, my
lads; or, in fact, than I would be wholly willing to
-84-
confess. And it was with an eye single to this very adventure
that I laboured to devise and perfect yonder machine."
"A marvel in itself, uncle
Phaeton. Only for that, where would we have been, yesterday?"
seriously spoke the elder Gillespie.
"I know where we wouldn't have
been: inside that blessed cy-nado!"
"Nor here, where you can catch
brook trout in your clothes without the trouble of taking them off,
youngster."
"And where you'll catch a
precious hiding, without you let up harping on that old string; it's
way out of tune already, old man,"
"Tit for tat. Excuse us,
please, uncle Phaeton. We're like colts in fresh pasture, this
morning," brightly apologised Bruno, for both.
Apparently the professor paid no
attention to that bit of sparring between his nephews, staring into
the glowing camp-fire with eyes which surely saw more than yellow
coals or ruddy flames could picture; eyes which burned and sparkled
with all the fires of distant youth.
"The dearest dream of all my
life!" he repeated, in half dreamy tones, only to rouse himself,
with a a start and shoulder shake, an instant later, forcing
-85-
a bright smile as he glanced from face to face. "And why
not? How better could my last years be employed than in piercing the
clouds of mystery, and doubt, and superstition, with which this vast
tract has been enveloped for uncounted ages?"
"Is it really so unknown, then,
uncle Phaeton?" hesitatingly asked Bruno, touched, in spite of
himself, by that intensely earnest tone and expression. "Of
course, I know what the Indians say; they are full of a rude sort of
superstitious awe, which -- "
"Which is one of the surest
proofs that truth forms a foundation for that very superstition,"
quickly interjected the professor. "It is an undisputed fact
that there are hundreds upon hundreds of square miles of terra
incognita, lying in this corner of Washington Territory. No white man
ever fairly penetrated these wilds, even so far as we may have been
carried while riding the tornado. Or, if so, he assuredly has never
returned, or made known his discoveries."
"Provided there was anything
beyond the ordinary to see or experience, shouldn't we add, uncle?"
suggested Waldo, modestly.
"There is, -- there must be! No
matter how wildly improbable their traditions may seem in our
judgment, it only takes calm investigation to bring a
-86-
fair foundation to light. In regard to this vast scope of
country, go where you will among the natives, question whom you see
fit, as to its secrets, and you will meet with the same results: a
deep-seated awe, a belief which cannot be shaken, that here strange
monsters breed and flourish, matched in magnitude and power by an
armed race of human beings, before whose awful might other tribes are
but as ants in the pathway of an elephant."
Waldo let escape a low, prolonged
whistle of mingled wonder and incredulity, but Bruno gave him a
covert kick, himself too deeply interested to bear with a careless
interruption just then.
"Of course there may be
something of exaggeration in all this," admitted the
enthusiastic professor. "Undoubtedly, there is at least a fair
spice of that; but, even so, enough remains to both waken and hold
our keenest interest. Listen, and take heed, my good lads.
"You have often enough, of late
days, noticed these mountains, and if you remark their altitude, the
vast scope of country they dominate, the position they fill, you must
likewise realise one other fact: that an immense quantity of snow in
winter, rain in spring and autumn, surely must fall throughout the
Olympics. Understand?"
-87-
"Certainly; why not, uncle
Phaeton?"
"Then tell me this: where does
all the moisture go to? What becomes of the surplus waters? For it is
an acknowledged fact that, though rivers and brooks surely exist in
the Olympics, not one of either flows away from this wide tract of
country!"
The professor paused for a minute,
to let his words take full effect, then even more positively
proceeded:
"You may say, what I have had
others offer by way of solution, that all is drained into a mighty
inland sea or enormous lake. Granting so much, which I really believe
to be the truth as far as it goes, why does that lake never overflow?
Of all that surely must drain into its basin, be that enormously wide
and deep as it may, how much could ordinary evaporation dispose of?
Only an infinitesimal portion; scarcely worth mentioning in such
connection. Then, -- what becomes of the surplusage?"
Another pause, during which neither
Gillespie ventured a solution; then the professor offered his own
suggestion:
"It must flow off in some
manner, and what other manner can that be than -- through a
subterranean connection with the Pacific Ocean?"
-88-
Bruno gave a short ejaculation at
this, while Waldo broke forth in words, after his own particular
fashion:
"Jules Verne redivivus! Why
can't we take a trip through the centre of the earth, or -- or
-- any other little old thing like that?"
"With the tank of compressed
air as a life-preserver?" laughed Bruno, in turn. "That
might serve, but; unfortunately, we have only the one, and we are
three in number, boy."
"Only two, now; I'm squelched!"
sighed the jester, faintly.
If the professor heard, he heeded
not. Still staring with vacant gaze into the fire, his face bearing a
rapt expression curious to see, he broke into almost unconscious
speech:
"An enormous inland sea! Where
float the mighty ichthyosaurus, the megalosaurus, in company with the
gigantic plesiosaurus! Upon whose sloping shores disport the enormous
mastodon, the stately megatherium, the tremendous -- eh?"
For Waldo was now afoot, brandishing
a great branch broken from a dead tree, uttering valiant war-whoops,
and dealing tremendous blows upon an imaginary enemy, spouting at the
top of his voice a frenzied jargon, which neither his auditors nor
himself could possibly make sense out of.
-89-
Bruno, ever sensitive through his
affectionate reverence for their uncle, caught the youngster, and
cast him to earth, whereupon Waldo pantingly cried:
"Go on, please, uncle Phaeton.
It's next thing to a museum and menagerie combined, just to hear -- "
"Will you hush, boy?"
demanded Bruno, yet unable to wholly smother a laugh, so ridiculous
did it all sound and seem.
But Professor Featherwit declined,
his foxy face wrinkling in a bashful laugh. Whether so intended or
not, he had been brought down to earth from that dizzy flight, and
now was fairly himself again.
"Well, my dear boys, I dare say
it seems all a matter of jest and sport to you; yet, after our riding
in the centre of a tornado for uncounted miles, coming forth with
hardly a scratch or a bruise to show for it all, who dare say such
things may not be, even yet?"
"But, -- those strange
creatures are gone; the last one perished thousands upon thousands of
years ago, uncle Phaeton."
"So it is said, and so follows
the almost universal belief. Yet I have seen, felt, cooked, tasted,
and ate to its last morsel a steak from a mammoth.
-90-
True, the creature was dead; had been preserved for ages, no
doubt, within the glacier which finally cast it forth to human view;
yet who would have credited such a discovery, only fifty years ago?
He who dared to even hint at such a thing would have been derided and
laughed at, pronounced either fool or lunatic. And so, -- if we
should happen to discover one or all of those supposedly extinct
creatures here in this terra incognita, I would be overjoyed rather
than astounded."
Bruno looked grave at this
conclusion, but Waldo was not so readily impressed, and, with
shrugging shoulders, he made answer:
"Well, uncle, I'm not quite so
ambitious as all that comes to. May I give you my idea of it all?"
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Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
A DUEL TO THE
DEATH.
PROFESSOR FEATHERWIT nodded assent,
and, after a brief chuckle, Waldo resumed:
"You can take all those big fellows with the jaw-breaking names, but as for me, smaller game will do. Maybe a fellow couldn't fill his bag quite so full, nor quite so suddenly, but there would be a great deal more sport, and a mighty sight less danger, I take it!"
It was by no means difficult to divine that the professor had not yet spoken all that busied his brain, but the thread was broken, his pipe was out, and, emptying the ashes by tapping pipe-bowl against the heel of his shoe, he rose erect, once more the man of action.
"You will have to clear up, lads, for I must make such few repairs as are necessary to restore the aerostat to a state of efficiency. So long as that remains in serviceable condition, we will always have a method of advance or retreat. Without it -- well, I'd rather not think of the alternative."
-92-
That dry tone and quiet sentence did
more than all else to impress the brothers with a sense of their
unique position. Back came the remembrance of all they had gathered
concerning this strange scope of country since first settling down
fairly within the shadows of the Olympics, there to put that strange
machine together, preparing for what was to prove a wonder-tour
through many marvellous happenings.
Times beyond counting they had been
assured by the natives that no mortal could fairly penetrate that
vast wilderness. Natural obstacles were too great for any man to
surmount, without saying aught of what lay beyond; of the enormous
animals, such as the civilised world never knew or fought with; of
the terrible natives, taller than the pines, larger than the hills,
more powerful by far than the gods themselves, eager to slay and to
devour, -- so eager that, at times, living flesh and blood was more
grateful than all to their depraved tastes!
"Do you really reckon there is
anything in it all, Bruno?" asked the younger brother in lowered
tones, glancing across to where their uncle was busily engaged in
those comparatively trifling repairs.
"It hardly seems possible, and
yet -- would the members of four different tribes tell a story so
nearly
-93-
alike, without they had at least a foundation of truth to go
upon?"
"That's right. And yet -- the
inland sea sounds natural enough. We know, too, that there are such
things as underground rivers, outside of Jules Verne's yarns. But
those animals, -- or reptiles, -- which?"
"Both, I believe,"
answered Bruno, with a subdued laugh.
"That's all right, old man. I
never was worth a continental when it came to such things. I prefer
to live in the present, and so -- well, now, will you just look at
that old cow!"
In surprise Waldo pointed across to
where a bovine shape showed not far beyond the pool at the base of
the miniature waterfall; but his brother had a fairer view, and,
instantly divining the truth, grasped an arm and hastily whispered:
"Hush, boy; can't you see? It's
a buffalo, a hill buffalo, and -- "
"Quick! the guns are in the
machine! Down, Bruno, and maybe we can get a shot and -- "
His eager whisper was cut short,
though not by grip of arm or act by his brother. A rumbling roar
broke forth from the further side of that mountain stream, and as the
dense bushes beyond were violently
-94-
agitated, the hill buffalo wheeled that way with marvellous
rapidity.
Just as a long head and mighty
shoulders spread the shrubbery wide apart, jaws opening and lips
curling back to lay great teeth bare, while another angry sound, half
growl, half snort, only too clearly proclaimed that monster of the
mountains, a grizzly bear.
"Smoke o' sacrifice!"
gasped Waldo, as the grizzly suddenly upreared its mighty bulk, head
wagging, paws waving in queer fashion, lolling tongue lending the
semblance of drollery rather than viciousness.
"This way; to your guns, boys!"
cautiously called out the professor, whose notice had likewise been
caught by those unusual sounds, and who had already armed himself
with his pet dynamite gun.
"Careful! He'll make a break
for us at first sight, unless -- down close, and crawl for it,
brother!"
Bruno set the good example, and
Waldo was not too proud of spirit to humble himself in like manner.
Although this was their first glimpse of "Old Eph" in his
native wilds, both brothers entertained a very respectful opinion of
his prowess.
Under different circumstances their
expectations might have been more fully met, but just now the
-95-
grizzly seemed wholly occupied with the buffalo bull, whose
sturdy bulk and armed front so resolutely opposed his further
progress towards that common goal, the pool of water.
The boys quickly reached the
flying-machine and gripped the Winchester rifles which Professor
Featherwit had drawn forth from the locker at first sight of the
dangerous game. Thus armed, they felt ready for whatever might come,
and stood watching yonder rivals with growing interest.
"Will you look at that, now?"
excitedly breathed Waldo, eyes aglow, as he saw the bull cock its
tail on high and tear up the soft soil with one fierce sweep of its
cloven hoof, shaking head and giving vent to a low but determined
bellow.
"It means a fight unto the
death, I think," whispered the professor.
"It's dollars to doughnuts on
the bear," predicted Waldo. "Scat, you bull-headed idiot!
Don't you know that you're not deuce high to his ace? Can't you see
that he can chew you up like -- "
"Are you mighty sure of all
that, boy?" laughingly cut in Bruno; for at that moment the
buffalo made a sudden charge at his upright adversary, knocking the
grizzly backward in spite of its viciously flying paws.
-96-
"Great Peter on a bender! If I
ever -- no, I never!"
Even the professor was growing
excited, holding the dynamite gun under one arm while gently tapping
palms together as an encore.
Naturally enough, their sympathies
were with the buffalo, since the odds seemed so immensely against
him; but their delight was short-lived, for, instead of following up
the advantage so bravely won, the bull fell back to paw and bellow
and shake his shaggy front.
With marvellous activity for a brute
of his enormous bulk and weight, the grizzly recovered its feet, then
lumbered forward with clashing teeth and resounding growls.
Nothing loath, the buffalo met that
charge, and for a short space of time the struggle was veiled by
showers of leaf-mould and damp dirt cast upon the air as the rivals
fought for supremacy -- and for life.
For that this was destined to be a
duel to the very death not one of those spectators could really
doubt. That encounter may have been purely accidental, but the
creatures fought like enemies of long standing.
As their relative positions changed,
the buffalo
-97-
THE DUEL.
-99-
contrived to get in another vigorous butt, sending bruin end
for end down that gentle slope to souse into the pool of water, that
cool element cutting short a savage roar of mad fury.
Then the trio of spectators could
take notes, and with something of sorrow they saw that the buffalo
had already suffered severely, bleeding from numerous great gashes
torn by the grizzly's long talons, while one bloody eye dangled below
its socket, held only by a thread of sinew.
Nor had bruin escaped without hurt,
as all could see when he floundered out of the water, bent upon
renewing the duel; but there was little room left for doubting what
the ultimate result would be were the animals left to their own
devices.
Like all bold, free-hearted lads,
Waldo ever sympathised with the weaker, and now, unable to hold his
feelings in check, he gave a short cry, levelling his Winchester and
opening fire upon the grizzly, just as it won fairly clear of the
water.
Stung to fury by those pellets, the
brute reared up with a horrid roar, turning as though to charge this
new enemy; but ere he could do more, the professor's gun spoke, and
as the dynamite shell exploded, bruin fell back a writhing mass, his
head literally smashed to pieces.
-100-
Heedless of all else, the wounded
buffalo charged with lusty bellow, goring that quivering mass with
unabated fury, though its life was clearly leaking out through those
ghastly cuts and slashes.
A brief pause, then Professor
Featherwit swiftly reloaded his gun, sending another shell across the
stream, this time more as a boon than as punishment.
Smitten fairly in the forehead, the
bull dropped as though beneath a bolt of lightning, life going out
without so much as a single struggle or a single pang.
"Twas better thus,"
declared the professor, as Waldo gave a little ejaculation of dismay.
"He must have bled to death in a short time, and this was true
mercy. Besides, buffalo meat is very good eating, and the day may
come when we shall need all we can get. Who knows?"
After the animals were inspected,
and due comment made upon the awfully sure work wrought by the
dynamite gun, the professor suggested that, while he was completing
repairs upon the aeromotor, the brothers should secure a supply of
fish and of flesh, cooking sufficient to provide for several meals,
for there was no telling just when they would have an equal chance.
"Just as soon as we can put all
in readiness," he
-101-
continued, "I am going to leave this spot. My first wish
is to thoroughly test the aerostat, to make certain it has received
no serious injury. Then, if all promises well, I mean to begin our
tour of exploration, hoping that we may, at least, find something
well worthy the strange reputation given these Olympics by the
natives."
Without raising any objections, the
brothers fell to work, Bruno looking after the flesh, while Waldo
undertook to supply the fish. That was but fair, since he had been
cheated out of catching the first mess.
Not a little to his delight, the
professor found that the flying-machine would promptly answer his
touch and will, rising easily off the ground, then descending at
call, evidently having passed through the ordeal of the bygone
evening without serious harm.
Still, all this consumed time, and
it was after a late dinner that everything was pronounced in
readiness for an ascension: the meat and fish nicely cooked and
packed for carriage, a pot of strong coffee made and stowed beyond
risk of leakage, the flying-machine itself quivering in that gentle
breeze as though eager to find itself once more afloat far above the
earth and its obstructions to easy navigation.
-102-
Waldo expressed some grief at
leaving a spot where game came in such plentitude to find the hunter,
and trout simply longed to be caught; but upon being assured of other
opportunities, perhaps even more delightful, he sighed and gave
consent to mount into space.
"Only -- don't ask me to tackle
any of those big dictionary fellows such as you talked about this
morning, uncle Phaeton, for I simply can't; they'd get away with my
baggage while I was trying to spell their names and title -- and all
that!"
Without any difficulty the aeromotor
was sent out of and above the forest, heading towards the northwest;
that is, direct for the heart of the Olympics, of whose marvels
Professor Featherwit held such exalted hopes and expectations.
Grim and forbidding those mountains
looked as the air-ship sailed swiftly over them, opening up a wider
view when the bare, rugged crest was once left fairly to the rear.
Save for those bald crowns, all below appeared a solid carpet of
tree-tops, now lower, there higher, yet ever the same: seemingly
impenetrable to man, should such an effort be made.
Once fairly within the charmed
circle, leaving the rocky ridge behind, Professor Featherwit
slackened speed, permitting the ship to drift onward at a
-103-
moderate pace, one hand touching the steering-gear, while its
fellow held a pair of field-glasses to his eager eyes.
All at once he gave a half-stifled
cry, partly rising in his excitement, then crying aloud in thrilling
tones:
"The sea, -- an inland sea!"
-104-
Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
GRAPPLING A QUEER
FISH.
AT nearly the same moment both Bruno
and Waldo caught a glimpse of water, shining clear and distinct
amidst that sombre setting; but as yet a tree-crested elevation
interfered with the prospect, and it was not until after the course
of the air-ship had been materially changed, and some little time had
elapsed, that aught definite could be determined as to the actual
spread of that body of water.
This proved to be considerable, although it needed but a single look into the professor's face to learn that his eager hopes and exalted anticipations fell far short of realisation.
"Well, it's a sea all right," generously declared Waldo, giving a vigorous sniff by way of strengthening his words. "I can smell the salt clear from this. A sea, even if it isn't quite so large as others, -- what one might term a lower-case c!"
If nothing else, that generous effort brought its reward in the dry little chuckle which escaped the
-105-
professor's lips, and a kindly glow showed through his glasses
as he turned towards Waldo with a nod of acknowledgment.
"Barring the salty scent, my
dear boy, which probably finds birth in your kindly imagination. So,
on the whole, perhaps 'twould be just as well to term it a lake."
"One of no mean dimensions, at
any rate, uncle Phaeton."
"True, Bruno," with a nod
of agreement, yet with forehead contracting into a network of
troubled lines. "Naturally so, and yet -- surely this must be
merely a portion? Unless -- yet I fail to see aught which might be
interpreted as being -- "
Promptly responding to each touch of
hand upon steering-gear, the aeromotor swung smoothly around, sailing
on even keel right into the teeth of the gentle wind, by this time
near enough to that body of water for the air-voyagers to scan its
surface: a considerable expanse, all told, yet by no means of such
magnitude as Professor Featherwit had anticipated.
Too deeply absorbed in his own
thoughts to notice the little cries and ejaculations which came from
the brothers, he caused the aerostat to rise higher, slowly sweeping
that extended field with his glasses.
He could see where several streams
entered the
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body of water, coming from opposite points of the compass, and
thus confirming at least one portion of his explained theory; but, so
far as his visual powers went, there was no other considerable body
of water to be discovered.
"Yet, how can that contracted
basin contain all the drainage from this vast scope of country? How
can we explain the stubborn fact of -- What now, lads?"
An abrupt break, but one caused by
the eager cry and loud speech from the lips of the younger Gillespie.
"Looky yonder! Isn't that one
o' those sour-us dictionary fellows on a bender? Isn't that -- but I
don't -- no, it's only -- "
"Only a partly decayed tree
gone afloat!" volunteered Bruno, with a merry laugh, as his
eager brother drew back in evident chagrin.
"Well, that's all right. It
ought to've been one, even if it isn't. What's the use in coming all
this way, if we're not going to discover something beyond the common?
And my sour-us is worth more than one of the other kind, after all;
get it ashore and you might cook dinner for a solid month by it; now
there!"
It was easily to be seen that Waldo
had been giving free rein to his expectations ever since the
-107-
professor's little lecture, but his natural chagrin was
quickly forgotten in a matter of far greater interest.
Professor Featherwit had resumed his
scrutiny of yonder body of water, slowly turning his glasses while
holding the air-ship on a true course and even keel.
For a brief space nothing interfered
with the steady motion of the field-glasses, but then something
called for a more thorough examination, and little by little the
savant leaned farther forward, breath coming more rapidly, face
beginning to flush with deepening interest.
Bruno took note of all this, and,
failing to see aught to account for the symptoms with unaided eyes,
at length ventured to speak.
"What is it, uncle Phaeton?
Something of interest, or your looks -- "
Professor Featherwit gave a start,
then lowered the glasses and reached them towards his nephew,
speaking hurriedly:
"You try them, Bruno; your eyes
are younger, and ought to be keener than mine. Yonder; towards the
lower end of the -- the lake, please."
Nothing loath, Gillespie complied,
quickly finding the correct point upon which the professor's interest
-108-
had centred, holding the glasses motionless for a brief space,
then giving vent to an eager ejaculation.
"What is it all about, bless
you, boy?" demanded Waldo, unable longer to curb his hot
impatience. "Another drifting tree, eh?"
"No, but, -- did you see it,
uncle?"
"I saw something which -- what
do you see, first?"
"A great big suck, -- a monster
whirlpool which is hollowed like -- "
"I knew it! I felt that must be
the true solution of it all!" cried uncle Phaeton, squirming
about pretty much as one might into whose veins had been injected
quicksilver in place of ordinary blood. "The outlet! Where the
surplus waters drain off to the Pacific Ocean!"
"I say, give me a chance, can't
you?" interrupted Waldo, grasping the glasses and shifting his
station for one more favourable as a lookout.
He had seen sufficient to catch the
right angle, and then gave a suppressed snort as he took in the view.
Half a minute thus, then a wild cry escaped his lips, closely
followed by the words:
"Now I dosee something!
And it isn't a drifting tree, either! Or, that is, something else
which -- shove her closer, uncle Phaeton! True as you
-109-
live, there's something caught in yonder big suck which is --
closer, for love of glory!"
"If this is another joke, Waldo
-- "
"No, no, I tell you, Bruno!
Shove her over, uncle, for, without this glass is hoodooed, we're
needed right yonder, -- and needed mighty bad, too!"
Little need of so much urging, by
the way, since Professor Featherwit was but slightly less excited by
their double discovery, and even before the glasses were clapped to
Waldo's eyes the aerostat swung around to move at full speed towards
that precise quarter of the compass.
"What is it you see, then,
boy?" demanded Bruno, itching to take the glasses, yet straining
his own vision towards that as yet far-distant spot.
"Something like -- oh, see how
the water is running out, -- just like emptying a bathtub through a
hole at the bottom! And see what -- a man caught in the whirl, true's
you're a foot high, uncle!"
"A man? Here? Impossible, --
incredible, boy!" fairly exploded the professor, not yet ready
to relinquish his cherished belief in a terra incognita.
The air-voyagers were swiftly
nearing that point of interest, and now keen-eyed Bruno caught a
glimpse of a drifting object which had been drawn
-110-
within the influence of yonder whirlpool, but which was just
as certainly a derelict from the forest.
"Another floating tree-trunk
for Waldo!" he cried, with a short laugh, feeling far from
unpleased that the intense strain upon his nerves should be thus
lessened. "Try it again, lad, and perhaps -- "
"Try your great-grandmother's
cotton nightcap! Don't you suppose I can tell the difference between
a tree and a -- "
"Ranting, prancing, cavorting
`sour-us' right out of Webster's Unabridged, eh, laddy-buck?"
"That's all right, if you can
only keep on thinking that way, old man; but if yonder isn't a fellow
being in a mighty nasty pickle, then I wouldn't even begin to say so!
And -- you look, uncle Phaeton, please."
Nothing loath, the professor took
the proffered glasses, and but an instant later he, too, gave a sharp
cry of amazement, for he saw, clinging to the trunk of a floating
tree, swiftly moving with those circling waters, a living being!
And but a few seconds later, Bruno
made the same discovery, greatly to the delight of his younger
brother.
"A man! And living, too!"
"Of course; reckon I'd make
such a howl about a floater?" bluntly interjected Waldo. "But
I'll do
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my crowing later on. For now we've got to get the poor fellow
out of that, -- just got to yank him out!"
Through all this hasty interchange
of words, the aeromotor was swiftly progressing, and now swung almost
directly above the whirlpool, giving all a fair, unobstructed view of
everything below.
The suction was so great that a
sloping basin was formed, more than one hundred yards in diameter,
while the actual centre lay a number of feet lower than the
surrounding level.
Half-way down that perilous slope a
great tree was revolving, and to this, as his forlorn hope, clung a
half-clad man, plainly alive, since he was looking upward, and --
yes, waving a hand and uttering a cry for aid and succour.
"Help! For love of God, save
me!"
"White, -- an American, too!"
exploded Waldo, taking action as by brilliant inspiration. "Hang
over him, uncle, for I'm going -- to go fishing -- for a man!"
Waldo was tugging at the grapnel and
long drag-rope. Bruno was quick to divine his intention, and lent a
deft hand, while the professor manipulated the helm so adroitly as to
keep the flying-machine hovering directly above yonder imperilled
stranger, leaning far over the hand-rail to shout downward:
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"Have courage, sir, and stand
ready to help yourself! We will rescue you if it lies within the
possibilities of -- we will save you!"
"You bet we just will, and
right -- like this," spluttered Waldo, as he cast the grapnel
over the rail and swiftly lowered it by the rope. "Play you're a
fish, stranger, and when you bite, hang on like grim death to a --
steady, now!"
Fortunately nothing occurred to mar
the programme so hastily arranged, for the drift was drawing nearer
the centre of the whirl, and if once fairly caught by that, nothing
human could preserve the stranger from death.
"Make a jump and grab it, if
you can't do better!" cried Waldo, intensely excited now that
the crisis was at hand.
The long rope with its iron weight
swayed awkwardly in spite of all he could do to steady it, and as
each one of the three prongs was meant for catching and holding fast
to whatever they touched, there was no slight risk of impaling the
man, thus giving him the choice of another and still more painful
death.
Then, with a desperate grasp, a
death-clutch, he caught one arm of the grapnel, holding fast as the
shock came. He was carried clear of the tree, and
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partly submerged in the water as his added weight brought the
flying-machine so much lower.
"Up, up, uncle Phaeton!"
fairly howled Waldo, at the same time tugging at the now taut rope,
in which he was ably seconded by his brother. "For love of --
higher, uncle!"
Then the noble machine responded to
the touch of its builder, lifting the dripping stranger clear of the
whirling currents, swinging him away towards yonder higher level,
where a fall would not prove so quickly fatal. And then the eager
professor gave a shrill cheer as he saw the man, by a vigorous
effort, draw his body upward sufficiently far to throw one leg over
an arm of the grapnel itself.
Knowing now that the rescued was in
no especial peril, uncle Phaeton left the air-ship to steer itself
long enough for his nimble hands to take several turns of the
drag-rope around the cleat provided for that express purpose, thus
relieving both Bruno and Waldo of the heavy strain, which might soon
begin to tell upon them.
"Hurrah for we, us, and
company!" cried Waldo, relieving his lungs of a portion of their
pent-up energy, then leaning perilously far over the edge of the
machine to encourage the queer fish he had hooked.
-114-
Chapter 10
CHAPTER X.
RESCUED AND RESCUERS.
DESPITE their very natural
excitement, caused by this peril and its foiling, Professor
Featherwit retained nearly all his customary coolness and presence of
mind.
Readily realising that after such a grim ordeal would almost certainly come a powerful revulsion, his first aim was to swing the stranger far enough away from the whirlpool to give him a fair chance for life, in case he should fall, through dizziness or physical collapse, from the end of the drag-rope.
This took but a few seconds, comparatively speaking, though, doubtless, each moment seemed an age to the rescued stranger. Then the professor slowed his ship, looking around in order to determine upon the wisest route to take.
For one thing, it would be severe work to draw the stranger bodily up and into the aerostat. For another, unless he should grow weak, or suffer from
-115-
vertigo, both time and labour would be saved by taking him
direct to the shore of this broad lake.
As soon as the rope was made fast,
and the strain taken off their muscles as well as their minds, Bruno
flashed a look around, naturally turning his eyes in the direction of
the whirlpool.
Although less than a couple of
minutes had elapsed since the man was lifted off the circling drift,
even thus quickly had the end drawn nigh; for, even as he looked that
way, Gillespie saw the great trunk sucked into the hidden sink, the
top rising with a shiver clear out of the water as the butt lowered,
a hollow, rumbling sound coming to all ears as --
"Gone!" cried Bruno, in
awed tones, as the whole drift vanished from sight for ever.
"Sucked in by Jonah's whale,
for ducats!" screamed Waldo, excitedly. "Fetch on your
blessed `sour-us' of both the male and female sect! Trot 'em to the
fore, and if my little old suck don't take the starch out of their
backbones, -- they did have backbones, didn't they, uncle
Phaeton?"
Professor Featherwit frowned, and
shook his head in silent reproof. More nearly, perhaps, than either
of the boys, he realised what an awful peril this
-116-
stranger had so narrowly escaped. It was far too early to turn
that escape into jest, even for one naturally light of heart.
He leaned over the hand-rail,
peering downward. He could see the rescued man sitting firmly in the
bend of the grapnel, one hand tightly gripping the rope, its mate
shading his eyes, as he stared fixedly towards the whirling
death-pool, from whose jaws he had so miraculously been plucked.
There was naught of debility, either
of body or of mind, to be read in that figure, and with his fears on
that particular point set at rest, for the time being, Professor
Featherwit called out, distinctly:
"Is it all well with you, my
good friend? Can you hold fast until the shore is reached, think?"
"Heaven bless you, -- yes!"
came the reply, in half-choked tones. "If I fail in giving
thanks -- "
"Never mention it, friend; it
cost us nothing," cheerily interrupted the professor, then
adding, "Hold fast, please, and we'll put on a wee bit more
steam."
The flying-machine was now fairly
headed for a strip of shore which offered an excellent opportunity
for making a safe landing, and as that accelerated motion did not
appear to materially affect the stranger, it took but a few minutes
to clear the lake.
-117-
"Stand ready to let go when we
come low enough, please," warned the professor, deftly managing
his pet machine for that purpose.
The stranger easily landed, then
watched the flying-machine with painfully eager gaze, hands clasped
almost as though in prayer. A more remarkable sight than this
half-naked shape, burned brown by the sun, poorly protected by light
skins, with sinew fastenings, could scarcely be imagined; and there
was something close akin to tears in more eyes than one when he came
running in chase, arms outstretched, and voice wildly appealing:
"Oh, come back! Take me, --
don't leave me, -- for love of God and humanity, don't leave me to
this living death!"
Professor Featherwit called back a
hasty assurance, and brought the air-ship to a landing with greater
haste than was exactly prudent, all things considered; but who could
keep cool blood and unmoved heart, with yonder piteous object before
their eyes?
When he saw that the flying-machine
had fairly landed, and beheld its inmates stepping forth upon the
sands with friendly salutations, the rescued stranger staggered,
hands clasping his temples for a moment of drunken reeling, then he
fell
-118-
forward like one smitten by the hand of sudden death.
Professor Featherwit called out a
few curt directions, which were promptly obeyed by his nephews, and
after a few minutes' well-directed work consciousness was restored,
and the stranger feebly strove to give them thanks.
In vain these were set aside. He
seemed like one half-insane from joy, and none who saw and heard
could think that all this emotion arose from the simple rescue from
the whirlpool. Nor did it.
Wildly, far from coherently, the
poor fellow spoke, yet something of the awful truth was to be gleaned
even from those broken, disjointed sentences.
For ten years an exile in these
horrible wilds. For ten years not a single glimpse of white face or
figure. For ten ages no intelligible voice, save his own; and that,
through long disuse, had threatened to desert him!
"Ten years!" echoed Waldo,
in amazement. "Why didn't you rack out o' this, then? I know I
would; even if the woods were full of -- `sour-us' and the like o'
that! Yes, sir!"
A low, husky laugh came through
those heavily bearded lips, and the stranger flung out his hands in a
sweeping gesture, sunken eyes glowing with
-119-
an almost savage light as he spoke with more coherence:
"Why is it, young gentleman?
Why did I not leave, do you ask? Look! All about you it stretches: a
cell, -- a death-cell, from which escape is impossible! Here I have
fought for what is ever more precious than bare life: for liberty;
but though ten awful years have rolled by, here I remain, in worse
than prison! Escape? Ah, how often have I attempted to escape, only
to fail, because escape from these wilds is beyond the power of any
person not gifted with wings!"
"Ten years, you say, good
friend? And all that time you have lived here alone?" asked the
professor, curiously.
"Ten years, -- ten thousand
years, I could almost swear, only for keeping the record so
carefully, so religiously. And -- pitiful Lord! How gladly would I
have given my good right arm, just for one faraway glimpse of
civilisation! How often -- but I am wearying you, gentlemen, and you
may -- pray don't think that I am crazy; you will not?"
Both the professor and Bruno assured
him to the contrary, but Waldo was less affected, and his curiosity
could no longer be kept within bounds. Gently tapping one hairy arm,
he spoke:
-120-
"I say, friend, what were you
doing out yonder in the big suck? Didn't you know the fun was hardly
equal to the risk, sir?"
"Easy, lad," reproved the
professor; but with a a smile, which strangely softened that haggard,
weather-worn visage, the stranger spoke:
"Nay, kind sir, do not check
the young gentleman. If you could only realise how sweet it is to my
poor ears, -- the sound of a friendly voice! For so many weary years
I have never heard one word from human lips which I could understand
or make answer to. And now, -- what is it you wish to know, my dear
boy?"
"Well, since you've lived here
so long, surely you hadn't ought to get caught in such a nasty
pickle; unless it was through accident?"
"It was partly accidental. One
that would have cost me dearly had not you come to my aid so
opportunely. And yet, -- only for one thing, I could scarcely have
regretted vanishing for ever down that suck!"
His voice choked, his head bowed,
his hands came together in a nervous grip, all betokening unusual
agitation. Even Waldo was just a bit awed, and the stranger was first
to break that silence with words.
"How did the mishap come about,
is it, young
-121-
gentleman?" he said, a wan smile creeping into his face,
and relaxing those tensely drawn muscles once more. "While I was
trying to replenish my stock of provisions, and after this fashion,
good friends.
"I was fishing from a small
canoe, and as the bait was not taken well, I must have fallen into a
day dream, thinking of -- no matter, now. And during that dreaming,
the breeze must have blown me well out into the lake, for when I was
roused up by a sharp jerk at my line, I found myself near its middle,
without knowing just how I came there.
"I have no idea what sort of
fish had taken my bait, -- there are many enormous ones in the lake,
-- but it proved far too powerful for me to manage, and dragged the
canoe swiftly through the water, heading directly for the outlet,
yonder."
"Why didn't you let it go free,
then?"
"The line was fastened to the
prow, and I could not loosen it in time. I drew my knife, -- one of
flint, but keen enough to serve, -- only to have it jerked out of my
hand and into the water. Then, just as the fish must have plunged
into the suck, I abandoned my canoe, jumping overboard."
"That's just what I was
wondering about," declared Waldo, with a vigorous nod of his
head. "Yet we found you -- there?"
-122-
"Because I am a wretchedly poor
swimmer. I managed to reach a drift which had not yet fairly entered
the whirl, but I could do nothing more. towards saving myself. Then
-- you can guess the rest, gentlemen."
"And the canoe?" demanded
Waldo, content only when all points were made manifest.
"I saw it dragged down the
centre of the suck," with an involuntary shiver. "The fish
must have plunged into the underground river, whether willingly or
not I can only surmise. But all the while I was drifting yonder,
around and around, with each circuit drawing closer to the awful end,
I could not help picturing to myself how the canoe must have plunged
down, and down, and -- burr-r-r!"
A shuddering shiver which was more
eloquent than words; but Waldo was not yet wholly content, finding an
absorbing interest in that particular subject.
"You call it a river: how do
you know it's a river?"
"Of course, I can only guess at
the facts, my dear boy," the stranger made reply, smiling once
more, and, with an almost timid gesture, extending one hairy paw to
lightly touch and gently stroke the arm nearest him.
-123-
Bruno turned away abruptly, for that
gesture, so simple in itself, yet so full of pathos to one who bore
in mind those long years of solitary exile, brought a moisture to his
big brown eyes of which, boy-like, he felt ashamed.
Professor Featherwit likewise took
note, and with greater presence of mind came to the rescue, lightly
resting a hand upon the stranger's half-bare shoulder while
addressing his words to the youngster.
A tremulous sigh escaped those
bearded lips, and their owner drew closer to the wiry little
aeronaut, plainly drawing great comfort from that mere contact. And
with like ease uncle Phaeton lifted one of those hairy arms to rest
it over his own shoulders, speaking briskly the while.
"There is only one way of
demonstrating the truth more clearly, my youthful inquisitor, and
that is by sending you on a voyage of exploration. Are you willing to
make the attempt, Waldo?"
"Not this evening; some other
evening, -- maybe!" drawing back a bit, with a shake of his
curly pate to match. "But, I say, uncle Phaeton -- "
"Allow me to complete my say,
first, dear boy," with a bland smile. "That is easily done,
though, for it merely consists of this: yonder sink, or whirlpool, is
certainly the method this lake has of relieving
-124-
itself of all surplus water. Everything points to a
subterranean river which connects this lake with the Pacific Ocean."
"Wonder how long I'd have to
hold my breath to make the trip?"
-125-
Chapter 11
CHAPTER XI.
ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR
THE PROFESSOR.
THE stranger laughed aloud at this,
then seemed surprised that aught of mirth could be awakened where
grief and despair had so long reigned supreme.
"You will come with me to -- to my den, gentlemen?" he asked, still nervous, and plainly loath to do aught which indicated a return to his recent dreary method of living.
"Is the distance great?" asked Professor Featherwit, with a glance towards the aeromotor, then flashing his gaze further, as though to guard against possible harm coming to that valuable piece of property.
More than ever to be guarded now, since the words spoken by this exile. Better death in yonder mighty whirlpool than a half-score years' imprisonment here!
Not so very far, he was assured, while it would be comparatively easy to float the air-ship above the trees, there of no extraordinary growth.
-126-
At the same time this assurance was
given, the stranger could not mask his uneasiness of mind, and it was
really pitiful to see one so strong in body and limb, so weak
otherwise.
But uncle Phaeton was a fairly keen
judge of human nature, and possessed no small degree of tact.
Divining the real cause of that dread, he took the easiest method of
allaying it, speaking briskly as he moved across to the aerostat.
"Beer the gentleman company, my
lads, while I manage the ship. You will know what signals to make,
and I can contrive the rest."
Again the recluse laughed, but now
it was through pure joy, such as he had not experienced for long
years gone by. He was not to be deserted by his rescuers from the
whirlpool, and that was comfort enough for the moment.
Thanks to that guidance, but little
time was cut to waste, Professor Featherwit taking the flying-machine
away from the shore of the lake, floating slowly above the tree-tops,
guiding his movements by those below, finally effecting a safe
landing in a miniature glade, at no great distance from the "den"
alluded to by their new-found friend.
"It will be perfectly safe
here," the exile hastened to give assurance, as that landing was
made. "Then,
-127-
too, this is the only spot nigh at hand from which a hasty
ascent could well be made, even with such an admirable machine as
yours. Ah, me!" with a long breath which lacked but little of
being a sigh, as he keenly, eagerly examined the aerostat. "A
marvel! Who would have dared predict such another, only a dozen years
ago? I thought we had drawn very close to perfection while I was in
the profession, but this, -- marvellous!"
Both words and manner gave the
keen-witted professor a clew to one mystery, and he quickly spoke:
"Then you were familiar with
aerostatics, sir? Your name is -- "
"Edgecombe, -- Cooper
Edgecombe."
"What?" with undisguised
surprise in face as in voice. "Professor Edgecombe, the
celebrated balloonist who was lost so long ago?"
"Ay! lost here in this thrice
accursed wilderness!" passionately cried the exile; then, as
though abashed by his own outburst, he turned away, pausing again
only when at the entrance to his dreary refuge of many years.
"Give the poor fellow his own
way until he has had time to rally, boys," muttered uncle
Phaeton, in lowered tones, before following that lead. "I can
-128-
understand it better, now, and this is -- still is the terra
incognita of which I have dreamed so long!"
That refuge proved to be a large,
fairly dry cavern, the entrance to which was admirably masked by
vines and creepers, while the stony soil just there retained no trace
of footprints to tell dangerous tales.
Mr. Edgecombe vanished, but not for
long. Then, showing a light, formed of fat and twisted wick in a
hollowed bit of hardwood, he begged his rescuers to enter.
No second invitation was needed, for
even the professor felt a powerful curiosity to learn what method had
been followed by this enforced exile; how he had managed to live for
so many weary years.
With only that smoky lamp to shed
light around the place, critical investigation was a matter of time
and painstaking, although a general idea of the cavern was readily
formed.
High overhead arched the rocky roof,
blackened by smoke, and looking more gloomy than nature had intended.
The side walls were likewise irregular, now showing tiny niches and
nooks, then jutting out to form awkward points and elbows, which were
but partially disguised by such articles of wear and daily use as the
exile had collected during the years gone by, or since his occupancy
first began.
-129-
So much the professor took in with
his initial glances, but then he left Waldo and his brother to look
more closely, himself giving thought to the being whom they had so
happily saved from the whirlpool.
"Professor Edgecombe!" he
again exclaimed, grasping those roughened hands to press them
cordially. "I ought to have recognised you at sight, no doubt,
since I have watched your ascents time and time again."
The exile smiled faintly, shaking
his head and giving another sigh.
"Ah, me! 'twas vastly
different, then. I only marvel that you should give me credit when I
lay claim to that name, so long -- it has long faded from the
public's memory, sir."
But uncle Phaeton shook his head,
decidedly.
"No, no, I assure you, my
friend; far from it. Whenever the topic is brought to the front;
whenever aerostatics are discussed, your name and fame are sure to
play a prominent part. And yet, -- you disappeared so long ago, never
being heard of after -- "
"After sailing away upon the
storm for which I had waited and prayed, for so many weary,
heart-sick months!"
-130-
"So the rumour ran, but we all
believed that must be an exaggeration, and not for a long time was
all hope abandoned. Then, more hearts than one felt sore and sad at
thoughts of your untimely fate."
"A fate infinitely worse than
ordinary death such as was credited me," huskily muttered the
exile. "Ten years, -- and ever since I have been here, helpless
to extricate myself, doomed to a living death, which none other can
ever fully realise! Doomed to -- to -- "
His voice choked, and he turned away
to hide his emotions.
Professor Featherwit thoroughly
appreciated the interruption which came through Waldo's lips just at
that moment.
"Oh, I say, -- uncle Phaeton!"
"What is it, lad? Don't meddle
with what doesn't -- "
"Looking can't hurt, can it?
And to think people ever got along with such things as these!"
Waldo was squared before sundry
articles depending from the side wall, and as the professor drew
closer, he, too, displayed a degree of interest which was really
remarkable.
A gaily colored tunic of thickly
quilted cotton was hanging beside an oddly shaped war club, the
-131-
heavier end of which was armed with blades of stone which
gleamed and sparkled even in that dim light. And attached to this
weapon was another, hardly less curious: a knife formed of copper,
with heft and blade all from one piece of metal.
"Here is the rest of the
outfit," said Edgecombe, holding forth a bow and several
feathered arrows with obsidian heads.
Professor Featherwit gave a low,
eager cry as he handled the various articles, both face and manner
betraying intense delight, which found partial vent in words a little
later.
"Wonderful! Marvellous! Superb!
I envy you, sir; I can't help but envy your possession of so
magnificent -- and so well-preserved, too! That is the marvel of
marvels!"
"Well, to be sure, I haven't
used them very much. The bow and arrows I could manage fairly well,
after busy practice. They have saved me from more than one hungry
night. But as for the rest -- "
"You might have worn the -- Is
it a ghost-dance shirt, though?" hesitatingly asked Waldo,
gingerly fingering the wadded tunic.
"Waldo, I'm ashamed of you,
boy!" almost harshly reproved the professor. "Ghost-dance
shirt, indeed! And this one of the most complete -- the
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only perfectly preserved specimen of the ancient Aztec --
pray, my good friend, where did you discover them? Surely there can
be no burial mounds so far above the latitude where that unfortunate
race lived and died?"
Mr. Edgecombe shook his head, with a
puzzled look, then made reply:
"No, sir. I took these all from
an Indian I was forced to kill in order to save my own life. I never
thought -- You are ill, sir?"
"Bless my soul!"
ejaculated the professor, falling back a pace or two, then sitting
down with greater force than grace, all the while gazing upon those
weapons like one in a daze. "Found them -- Indian -- killed him
in order to -- bless my soul!"
Then, with marvellous activity for
one of his age, the professor recovered his footing, mumbling
something about tripping a heel, then resumed his examination of the
curiosities as though he had care for naught beside.
Cooper Edgecombe turned away, and
the professor improved the opportunity by muttering to the brothers:
"Careful, lads. Give the poor
fellow his own way in all things, for he is -- he surely must be --
eh?"
Forefinger covertly tapped forehead,
for there was
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"`I TOOK THESE ALL FROM AN INDIAN.'"
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no time granted for further explanations. Edgecombe turned
again, speaking in hard, even strained tones:
"Fifteen years ago this month,
on the 27th, to be exact, a balloon with two passengers was carried
away on a terrific gale of wind which blew from the southeast. This
happened in Washington Territory. Can you tell me -- has anything
ever been heard of either balloon or its inmates?"
Professor Featherwit shook his head
in negation before saying:
"Not to my knowledge, though
doubtless the prints of the day -- "
Cooper Edgecombe shook both head and
hand with strange impatience.
"No, no. I know they were never
heard from up to ten years ago, but since then -- I am a fool to even
dream of such a thing, and yet, -- only for that faint hope I would
have gone mad long ago!"
Indeed, he looked little less than
insane as it was.
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Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII.
THE STORY OF A
BROKEN LIFE.
THIS was the idea that occurred to
both uncle and nephews, but they had seen and heard enough to excuse
all that, and Professor Featherwit spoke again, in mildly curious
tones:
"Sorry I am unable to give you better tidings, my good friend, but, so far as my knowledge extends, nothing has come to light of recent years. And -- if not a leading question -- were those passengers friends of your own?"
"Only -- merely my -- my wife and little daughter," came the totally unexpected reply, followed by a forced laugh which sounded anything but mirthful.
Uncle Phaeton, intensely chagrined, hastened to apologise for his luckless break, but Cooper Edgecombe cut him short, asking that the matter be let drop for the time being.
"I will talk; I feel that I must tell you all, or lose what few wits I have left," he declared, huskily. "But not right now. It is growing late. You must
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be hungry. I have no very extensive larder, but with my little
will go the gratitude of a man who -- "
His voice choked, and he left the
sentence unfinished, hurrying away to prepare such a meal as his
limited means would permit.
While Edgecombe was kindling a fire
in one corner of the cavern, opening a pile of ashes to extract the
few carefully cherished coals by means of which the wood was to be
fired, uncle and one nephew left the den to look after the
flying-machine and contents.
Bruno remained behind, in obedience
to a hint from the professor, lest the exile should dread desertion,
after all.
"Take these in and open them,
Waldo," said the professor, selecting several cans from the
stock in the locker. "Poor fellow! 'Twill be like a foretaste of
civilisation, just to see and smell, much less taste, the fruit."
"Even if he has turned looney,
eh, uncle Phaeton?"
"Careful, boy! I hardly think
he is just that far gone; but, even if so, what marvel? Think of all
he must have suffered during so many long, dreary years! and -- his
wife and child! I wonder -- I do
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wonder if he really killed -- but that is incredible, simply
and utterly incredible! An Aztec -- here -- alive!"
"Dead, uncle Phaeton,"
corrected Waldo. "Killed the redskin, he said, and I really
reckon he meant it. Why not, pray?"
"But -- an Aztec, boy!"
exclaimed the bewildered savant, unable to pass that point. "The
tunic of quilted cotton, the escaupil! The maquahuitl,
with its blades of grass! The bow and arrows which -- all, all surely
of Aztecan manufacture, yet seemingly fresh and serviceable as though
in use but a month ago! And the race extinct for centuries!"
"Well, unless he's a howling
liar from 'way up the crick, he extincted one of 'em,"
cheerfully commented Waldo, bearing his canned fruit to the cavern.
Professor Featherwit followed
shortly after, finding the exile busy preparing food, looking and
acting far more naturally than he had since his rescue from the
whirlpool. And then, until the evening meal was announced, uncle
Phaeton hovered near those amazing curiosities, now gazing like one
in a waking dream, then gingerly fingering each article in turn, as
though hoping to find a solution for his enigma through the sense of
touch.
Taken all in all, that was far from
a pleasant or
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enjoyable meal. A sense of restraint rested upon each one of
that little company, and not one succeeded in fairly breaking it
away, though each tried in turn.
Despite the struggle made by the
exile to hold all emotions well under subjection, Cooper Edgecombe
failed to hide his almost childish delight at sight and taste of
those canned goods, and it did not require much urging on the part of
his rescuers to ensure his partaking freely.
But the cap-sheaf came when uncle
Phaeton, true to his habit of long years, after eating, produced pipe
and pouch, the fragrant tobacco catching the exile's nostrils and
drawing a low, tremulous cry from his lips.
No need to ask what was the matter,
for that eager gaze, those quivering fingers, were enough. And just
as though this had been his express purpose, the professor passed the
pipe over, quietly speaking:
"Perhaps you would like a
little smoke after your supper, my good friend? Oblige me by -- "
"May I? Oh, sir, may I --
really taste -- oh, oh, oh!"
Bruno struck a match and steadied
the pipe until the tobacco was fairly ignited, then drew back and
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left the exile to himself for the time being. And, as covert
glances told them, never before had their eyes rested upon mortal
being so intensely happy as was the long-lost aeronaut then and
there.
At a sign from the professor, Bruno
and Waldo silently arose and left the cavern, bearing their guardian
company to where the air-ship was resting. And there they busied
themselves with making preparations for the night, which was just
settling over that portion of the earth.
Presently Cooper Edgecombe appeared,
the empty pipe in hand, held as one might caress an inestimable
treasure, a dreamy, almost blissful expression upon his sun-browned
face.
"I thank you, sir, more than
tongue can tell," he said, quietly, as he restored the pipe to
its owner. "If you could only realise what I have suffered
through this deprivation! I, an inveterate smoker; yet suddenly
deprived of it, and so kept for ten long years! If I had had a pipe
and tobacco, I believe -- but enough."
"I can sympathise with you, at
least in part, my friend. Will you have another smoke, by the way?"
"No, no, not now; I feel
blessed for the moment, and more might be worse than none, after so
long
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deprivation. And -- may I talk openly to you, dear, kind
friends? May I tell you -- am I selfish in wishing to trouble you
thus? Ten years, remember, and not a soul to speak with!"
He laughed, but it was a sorry
mirth; and not caring to trust his tongue just then, uncle Phaeton
nodded his head emphatically while filling his pipe for himself. But
Waldo never lacked for words, and spoke out:
"That's all right, sir; we can
listen as long as you can chin-chin. Tell us all about -- well,
what's the matter with that big Injun?"
"Quiet, Waldo. Say what best
pleases you, my friend. You can be sure of one thing, -- sympathetic
listeners, if nothing better."
With a curious shiver, as though
afflicted with a sudden chill, Edgecombe turned partly away, figure
drawn rigidly erect, hands tightly clasped behind his back. A brief
silence, then he spoke in tones of forced composure.
"A balloon was the best, in my
day, and I was proud of my profession, although even then I was
dreaming of better things -- of something akin to this marvellous
creation of yours, sir," casting a fleeting glance at the
air-ship, then at the face of its builder, afterward resuming his
former attitude.
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"Let that pass, though. I
wanted to tell you how I met with my awful loss; how I came to be out
here in this modern hell!
"I had a wife, a daughter, each
of whom felt almost as powerful an interest in aerostatics as I did
myself. And one day -- but, wait!
"I had an enemy, too; one who
had, years before, sought to win my love for his own; in vain, the
cur! And that day -- we were out here in Washington Territory, living
in comparative solitude that I might the better study out the theory
I was slowly shaping in my brain.
"The day was beautiful, but
almost oppressively warm, and, as they so frequently wished, I let my
dear ones up in the balloon, securely fastening it below. And then --
God forgive me! -- I went back to town for something; I forget just
what, now.
"A sudden storm came up. I
hurried homeward; home to me was wherever my dear ones chanced to be;
but I was just too late! That devil of all devils was ahead of me,
and I saw him -- merciful God! I saw him -- cut the ropes and let the
balloon dart away upon that awful gale!"
His voice choked, and for a few
minutes silence reigned. Knowing how vain must be any attempt to
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offer consolation, the trio of air-voyagers said nothing, and
presently Cooper Edgecombe spoke.
"I killed the demon. I nearly
tore him limb from limb; I would have done just that, only for those
who came hurrying after me from town, knowing that I might need help
in bringing my balloon to earth in safety. They dragged me away, but
'twas too late to cheat my miserable vengeance. That hound was dead,
but -- my darlings were gone, for ever!"
Another pause, then quieter, more
coherent speech.
"God alone knows whither my
wife and child were taken. The general drift was in this direction,
but how far they were carried, or how long they may have lived, I can
only guess; enough that, despite all my inquiries, made far and wide
in every direction, I never heard aught of either balloon or
passengers!
"After that, I had but one
object in life: to follow along the track of that storm, and either
find my loved ones, or -- or some clew which should for ever solve my
awful doubts! And for two long years or more I fought to pierce these
horrid fastnesses, -- all in vain. No mortal man could succeed, even
when urged on by such a motive as mine.
"Then I determined upon another
course. I
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worked and slaved until I could procure another balloon, as
nearly like the one I lost as might be constructed. Then I watched
and waited for just such another storm as the one upon whose wings my
darlings were borne away, meaning to take the same course, and so
find -- "
"Why, man, dear, you must have
been insane!" impulsively cried the professor, unable longer to
control his tongue.
"Perhaps I was; little wonder
if so," admitted Edgecombe, turning that way, with a wan smile
lighting up his visage. "I could no longer reason. I could only
act. I had but that one grim hope, to eventually discover what time
and exposure to the weather might have left of my lost loves.
"Then, after so long waiting,
the storm came, blowing in the same direction as that other. I cut my
balloon loose, and let it drift. I looked and waited, hoping,
longing, yet -- failing! I was wrecked, here in this wilderness. My
balloon was carried away. I failed to find -- aught!"
Cooper Edgecombe turned towards the
air-ship, with a sigh of regret.
"If one had something like this
then, I might have found them, -- even alive! But now -- too late --
eternally too late!"
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Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LOST CITY OF
THE AZTECS.
UNCLE PHAETON was more than willing
to do the honours of his pet invention, and this afforded a most
happy diversion, although the deepening twilight hindered any very
extensive examination.
Cooper Edgecombe showed himself in a vastly different light while thus engaged, his shrewd questions, his apt comments, quite effectually removing the far from agreeable doubts born of his earlier words and demeanour.
"Well, if he's looney, it's only on some points, not as the whole porker, anyway," confidentially asserted Waldo, when an opportunity offered. "Coax him to tell how he knocked the redskin out, uncle Phaeton."
Little need of recalling that perplexing incident to the worthy savant, for, try as he might, Featherwit could not keep from brooding over that wondrous collection of relics pertaining to a long-since extinct people. Of course, the last one had perished ages ago; and yet -- and yet --
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Through his half-bewildered brain
flashed the accounts given by the coast tribes, members of which he
had so frequently interviewed concerning this unknown land, one and
all of whom had more or less to say in regard to a strange people,
terrible fighters, mighty hunters, one burning glance from whose eyes
carried death and decay unto all who were foolhardy enough even to
attempt to pass those mighty barriers, built up by a beneficent
nature. Only for that nearly impassable wall, the entire earth would
be overrun and dominated by these monsters in human guise.
Then, after the air-ship was cared
for to the best of his ability, and the night-guard set in place so
that an alarm might give warning of any illegal intrusion, the little
party returned to the cavern home of the exile where, after another
refusal on his part, the professor filled and lighted his beloved
pipe.
Almost in spite of himself
Featherwit was drawn towards those marvellous articles depending from
the wall, and, as he gazed in silent marvel, Cooper Edgecombe drew
nigh, with still other articles to complete the collection.
"You may possibly find
something of interest in these, too, dear sir, although I have given
them rather
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rough usage. This formed a rather comfortable cap, and -- "
"A helmet! And sandals! A sash
which is -- yes! worn about the waist, mainly to support weapons, and
termed a maxtlatl, which -- and all sufficiently well
preserved to be readily recognised as genuine -- unless -- Surely I
am dreaming!"
If not precisely that, the worthy
professor assuredly was almost beside himself while examining these
articles of warrior's wear, one by one, knowing that neither eyes nor
memory were at fault, yet still unable to believe those very senses.
Up to this, Cooper Edgecombe had
felt but a passing interest in the matter, forming as it did but a
single incident in a more than ordinarily eventful life; but now he
began to divine at least a portion of the truth, and his face was
lighted up with unusual animation, when Phaeton Featherwit turned
that way, to almost sharply demand:
"Where did you gain possession
of these weapons and garments, sir? And how, -- from whom?"
"I took them from an Indian,
nearly two years ago. He caught me off my guard, and, when I saw that
I could neither hide nor flee, I fought for my life," explained
the exile; then giving a short, bitter laugh, to add: "Strange,
is it not? Although I had
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long since grown weary of existence such as this, I fought for
it; I turned wild beast, as it were! Then, after all was over, I took
these things, more because I feared his comrades might suspect -- "
"His comrades?" echoed the
professor. "More than the one, then? You killed him, but --
there were others, still?"
"Many of them; far too many for
any one man to withstand," earnestly declared the exile. "I
made all haste in bearing the redskin here, obliterating all signs as
quickly as possible; yet for days and nights I cowered here in utter
darkness, each minute expecting an attack from too powerful a force
for standing against."
Uncle Phaeton rubbed his hands
briskly, shifting his weight hurriedly from one foot to its mate,
then back again, the very personification of eager interest and
growing conviction.
"More of them? A strong force?
Armed, -- and garbed as of old? The clothing, the footwear, and,
above all else, the weapons, purely Aztecan? And here, only two short
years ago?"
"Sadly long and hideously
dreary years I have found them, sir," the exile said, in
dejected tones.
The professor burst into a shrill,
excited laugh, which sounded almost hysterical, and, not a little to
-149-
the amazement of his nephews, broke into a regular dance,
jigging it right merrily, hands on hips, head perked, and chin in
air, at the same time striving to carry the tune in his far from
melodious voice.
After all, perhaps no better method
could have been taken to work off his almost hysterical excitement,
and presently he paused, panting and heated, chuckling after an
abashed fashion as he encountered the eyes of his nephews.
"Not a word, my dear boys,"
he hastened to plead. "I had to do something or -- or explode! I
feel better, now. I can behave myself, I hope. I am calm, cool, and
composed as -- the genuine Aztecs! And we are the ones to discover
that -- oh, I forgot!"
For Waldo was fairly exploding with
mirth, while Bruno smiled, and even the exile appeared to be amused
to a certain extent at his expense.
Little by little, the worthy savant
calmed down, and then, almost forcing the exile to indulge in another
delicious smoke, he led up to the subject in which his interest was
fairly intense.
Cooper Edgecombe was willing enough
to tell all that lay in his power, although he was only beginning to
realise how much that might mean to the world at large, judging by
the actions of the professor.
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According to his account, the great
lake, or drainage reservoir of the Olympics, was a sort of
semi-yearly rendezvous for a warlike tribe of red men, where they
congregated for the purpose of catching and drying vast quantities of
fish, doubtless to be used during the winter.
"As a general thing they pitch
their camp on the other side, over towards the northeast; but small
parties are pretty sure to rove far and wide, coming around this way
quite as often as not."
"And their garb, -- the weapons
they bore?" asked the professor.
Edgecombe motioned towards those
articles in which such a lively interest had been awakened, then said
that, while few of the red men who had come beneath his near
observation had been so elaborately equipped, he had taken notice of
similar weapons and garments, with additions which he strove hard to
describe with accuracy.
Nearly every sentence which crossed
his lips served to confirm the marvellous truth which had so
dazzlingly burst upon the professor's eager brain, and with a glib
tongue he named each weapon, each garment, as accurately as ever set
down in ancient history, not a little to the wide-eyed amazement of
Waldo Gillespie.
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"Worse than those blessed
`sour-us' and cousins," he confided to his brother, in a
whisper. "Reckon it's all right, Bruno? Uncle isn't -- eh?"
But uncle Phaeton paid them no
attention, so deeply was he stirred by this wondrous revelation. He
felt that he was upon the verge of a discovery which would startle
the wide world as no recent announcement had been able to do, unless
-- but it surely must be correct!
And then, when Cooper Edgecombe
finished all he could tell concerning those queerly armed and gaudily
garbed red men, the professor let loose his tongue, telling what
glorious hopes and dazzling anticipations were now within him.
"For hundreds upon hundreds of
years there have been wild, weird legends about the Lost City, but
that merely meant a mass of wondrous ruins, long since overwhelmed by
shifting sands, somewhere in the heart of the great American desert,
so-called.
"By some it was claimed that
this ancient city owed its primal existence to a fragment of the
Aztecs, driven from their native quarters in Old Mexico. By others
'twas attributed unto one of the fabulous `Lost Tribes of Israel,'
but even the most enthusiastic never for one moment dreamed of --
this!"
"Except yourself, uncle
Phaeton," cut in Waldo,
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with a subdued grin. "This must be one of the marvels you
calculated on discovering, thanks to the flying-machine, eh?"
"Nay, my boy; I never let my
imagination soar half so high as all that," quickly answered the
professor. "But now -- now I feel confident that just such a
discovery lies before us, and with the dawn of a new day we will
ascend and look for the glorious `Lost City of the Aztecs!' "
Again the savant sprang to his feet,
wildly gesticulating as he strode to and fro, striving to thus work
off some of the intense excitement which had taken full possession.
And words fell rapidly from his lips the while, only a portion of
which need be placed upon record in this connection, however.
"A fico for the paltry lost
cities of musty tradition, now! They may sleep beneath the
sand-storms of countless years, but this -- I would gladly give one
of my eyes for the certainty that its mate might gaze upon such a
wondrous spectacle as -- Oh, if it might only prove true! If I might
only discover such a stupendous treasure! Aztecs! And in the present
day! Alive -- armed and garbed as of yore! Amazing! Incredible!
Astounding beyond the wildest dreams of a confirmed -- "
With startling swiftness uncle
Phaeton wheeled to
-153-
confront the exile, gripping his arm with fierce vigour, as he
shrilly demanded:
"Opium -- are you an eater of
drugs, Cooper Edgecombe?"
Even as the words crossed his lips,
the professor realised how preposterous they must sound, but the
exile shook his head, earnestly.
"I never ate drugs in that
shape, sir. Even if I had been addicted to morphine and the like, how
could I indulge the appetite here, in these gloomy, lonely wilds?"
"I beg your pardon, sir; most
humbly I implore your forgiveness. I have but one excuse -- this
wondrous -- Good night! I'm going to bed before I add to my new
reputation as -- a blessed idiot, no less!"
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Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV.
A MARVELLOUS VISION.
BUT the night was considerably older
ere any one of that quartette lost himself in slumber, for all had
been too thoroughly wrought up by the exciting events of the past day
for sleep to claim an easy subject.
By common consent, however, that one particular subject was barred for the present, and then, sitting in a cosy group about the glowing fire there in the cavern, the recently formed friends talked and chatted, asking and answering questions almost past counting.
Little wonder that such should be the case, so far as Cooper Edgecombe was concerned, since he had been lost to the busy world and its many changes for a long decade.
Then, too, his own dreary existence held a strange charm for the air-voyagers, and the exile grew wonderfully cheerful and bright-eyed as he in part depicted his struggles to sustain life against such heavy
-155-
odds, and still strove to keep alive that one hope, -- that
even yet he might be able to discover a clew to his loved and lost
ones.
"Not alive; I have long since
abandoned that faint hope. But if I might only find something to make
sure, something that I could pray over, then bury where my heart
could hover above -- "
"You are still alive, good
friend, yet you have spent long years out here in the wilderness,"
gently suggested the professor.
Edgecombe flinched, as one might
when a rude hand touches a still raw wound.
"But they, my wife, my baby
girl, -- they could never have lived as I have existed. They surely
must have perished; if not at once, then when the first cruel storms
of hideous winter came howling down from the far north!"
"Unless they were found and
rescued by -- who knows, my good sir?" forcing a cheerful smile,
which, unfortunately, was only surface-born, as the exile lifted his
head with a start and a gasping ejaculation. "Since it seems
fairly well proven that this supposedly unknown land is actually
inhabited, why may your loved ones not have been rescued?"
"The Indians? You mean by the
Aztecs, sir?"
"If Aztecans they should really
prove; why not?"
-156-
"But, surely I have heard --
sacrifices?" huskily breathed the greatly agitated man, while
the professor, realising how he was making a bad matter worse,
brazenly falsified the records, declaring that no human sacrifices
had ever stained the record of that noble, honourable, gallant race;
and then changed the subject as quickly as might be.
Nevertheless, there was one good
effect following that talk. Cooper Edgecombe had dreaded nothing so
much as the fear of being left behind by these, the first white
people he had seen for what seemed more than an ordinary lifetime;
but now, when the professor hinted at a longing to take a spin
through ether, for the purpose of winning a wider view, he eagerly
seconded that idea, even while realising that it would be difficult
to take him along with the rest.
Still, nothing was definitely
settled that evening, and at a fairly respectable hour before the
turn of night, the air-voyagers were wrapped in their blankets and
soundly slumbering.
Not so the exile. Sleep was far from
his brain, and while he really knew that danger could hardly menace
that wondrous bit of ingenious mechanism, he watched it throughout
that long night, ready to risk his own life in its defence should the
occasion arise.
-157-
Why not, since his whole future
depended upon the aeromotor? By its aid he hoped to reach
civilization once more; and in spite of the great loss which had
wrecked his life, he was thrilled to the centre by that glorious
prospect. Here he was dead while breathing; there he would at least
be in touch with his fellow men once more!
An early meal was prepared by the
exile, and in readiness when his trio of guests awakened to the new
day; and then, while busily discussing the really appetising viands
placed before them, the next move was fully determined upon.
Not a little to his secret delight,
the professor heard Edgecombe broach the subject of further
explorations, and seeing that his excitement had passed away in
goodly measure during the silent watches of the night, he talked with
greater freedom.
"Of course we'll keep in touch
with you, here, friend, and take no decisive move without your
knowledge and consent. Our fate shall be yours, and your fate shall
be ours. Only -- I would dearly love to catch a glimpse of -- If
there should actually be a Lost City in existence!"
"If there is, as there surely
must be one of some description, judging from the number of red men I
have seen collecting here at the lake," observed the
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exile, "you certainly ought to make the discovery with
the aid of your air-ship. You can ascend at will, of course, sir?"
Nothing loath, the professor spoke
of his pet and its wondrous capabilities, and then all hands left the
cavern for the outer air, to prepare for action.
As a further assurance, uncle
Phaeton begged Edgecombe to enter the aerostat, then skilfully caused
the vessel to float upward into clear space, sailing out over the
lake even to the whirlpool itself before turning, his passenger
eagerly watching every move and touch of hand, asking questions which
proved him both shrewd and ingenious, from a mechanical point of
view.
Returning to their starting-point,
Edgecombe sprang lightly to earth to make way for the brothers, face
ruddy and eyes aglow as he again begged them all to keep watch for
aught which might solve the mystery yet surrounding the fate of his
loved ones.
The promise was given, together with
an earnest assurance that they would soon return; then the parting
was cut as short as might be, all feeling that such a course was
wisest and kindest, after all.
For an hour or more the air-ship
sped on, high in air, its inmates viewing the various and varying
landmarks beneath and beyond them, all marvelling at
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the fact that such an immense scope of country should for so
long be left in its native virginity, especially where all are so
land-hungry.
Then, as nothing of especial
interest was brought to their notice, uncle Phaeton quite naturally
reverted to that suit of Aztecan armour, and the glorious
possibilities which the words of the exile had opened up to them as
explorers.
Bruno listened with unfeigned
interest, but not so his more mercurial brother, who took advantage
of an opening left by the professor, to bluntly interject:
"What mighty good, even if you
should find it all, uncle Phaeton? You couldn't pick it up and tote
it away, to start a dime museum with. And, as for my part, -- I'll
tell you what! If we could only find something like Aladdin's cave,
now!"
"Growing miserly in your old
age, are you, lad?" mocked his uncle.
"No; I don't mean just that.
His trees were hung with riches, but mine should be -- crammed and
crowded full of plum pudding, fruit cake, angel food, mince pies, and
the like! Yes, and there should be fountains of lemonade! And
mountains of ice-cream! And sandbars of caramels, and chocolate
drops, and trilbies, and -- well, now, what's the matter with you
fellows, anyway?"
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He spoke with boyish indignation at
that laughing outbreak, but the kindly professor quickly managed to
smooth the matter over, although not before Waldo had promised Bruno
a sound thumping the first time they set foot upon land.
Until past the noon hour that
pleasant voyage lasted, without any remarkable discovery being made,
the trio munching a cold lunch at their ease, rather than take the
trouble to effect a landing.
But then, not very long after the
sun had begun his downward course, there came a change which caused
Featherwit's blood to leap through his veins far more rapidly than
usual, for yonder, still a number of miles away, there was gradually
opening to view a hill-surrounded valley of considerable dimension,
certain portions of which betrayed signs of cultivation, or at least
of vegetation different from aught the explorers had as yet come
across since entering that land of wonders.
Almost unwittingly Professor
Featherwit sent the air-ship higher, even as it sped onward at
quickened pace, his face as pale as his eyes were glittering, intense
anticipation holding him spellbound for the time being. And then --
the wondrous truth!
"Behold!" he cried,
shrilly, pointing as he spoke.
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FINDING THE LOST CITY.
-163-
"Houses yonder! Cultivated fields, and -- see! human
beings in motion, who are -- "
"Kicking up a great old
bobbery, just as though they'd sighted us, and wanted to know -- I
say, uncle Phaeton, how would it feel to get punched full of holes by
a parcel of bow-arrows?"
With a quick motion the air-ship was
turned, darting lower and off at a sharp angle to its former course,
for the professor likewise saw what had attracted the notice of his
younger nephew.
Scattered here and there throughout
that secluded valley were human beings, nearly all of whom had sprung
into sudden motion, doubtless amazed or frightened by the appearance
of that oddly shaped air-demon.
Brief though that view had been, it
was sufficiently long to show the professor houses of solid and
substantial shape, cultivated plots, human beings, and a little river
whose clear waters sparkled and flashed in the sunlight.
It was very hard to cut that view so
short, but the professor had not lost all prudence, and he knew that
danger to both vessel and passengers might follow a nearer intrusion
upon the privacy of yonder armed people. Yet his face was fairly
glowing with glad exultation as he brought the aerostat to a lower
strata
-164-
of air, shutting off all view from yonder valley, as it lay
amid its encircling hills.
"Hurrah!" he cried,
snatching off his cap and waving it enthusiastically, as the air-ship
floated onward at ease. "At last! Found -- we've discovered it
at last! And all is true, -- all is true!"
"Found what, uncle Phaeton?"
asked Waldo, a bit doubtfully.
"The Lost City of the Aztecs,
of course! Oh, glad day, glad day!"
"Unless -- what if it should
prove to be only a -- a mirage, uncle Phaeton?" almost timidly
ventured Bruno, a moment later.
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Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV.
ASTOUNDING, YET TRUE.
THE professor gave a great start at
this almost reluctant suggestion, shrinking back with a look which
fell not far short of being horrified. But then he rallied, forcing a
laugh before speaking.
"No, no, Bruno. All conditions are lacking to form the mirage of the desert. And, too; everything was so distinct and clearly outlined that one could -- "
"Fairly feel those blessed bow-arrows tickling a fellow in the short ribs," vigorously declared the younger Gillespie. "Not but that -- I say, uncle Phaeton?"
"What is it now, Waldo?"
"Reckon they're like any other people? Got boys and -- and girls among 'em, I wonder?"
"I daresay, yes, why not?" answered Featherwit, scarcely realising what words were being shaped by his lips, while Bruno broke into a brief-lived laugh, more at that half-sheepish expression than at the query itself.
-166-
"Both boys and girls galore, I
expect, Kid; but you needn't borrow trouble on either score. You can
outrun the lads, while as for the fairer sex, -- well, they'll take
precious good care to keep well beyond your reach, -- especially if
you wear such another fascinating grin as -- "
"Oh, you go to thunder, Bruno
Gillespie!"
Through all this interchange the
air-ship was maintaining a wide sweep, drawing nearer the forest
beneath, if only to keep hidden from the eyes of the strange people
in yonder deep valley. Yet the gaze of Phaeton Featherwit as a rule
kept turned towards that particular point, his eyes on fire, his lips
twitching, his whole demeanour that of one who feels a discovery of
tremendous importance lies just before him.
"Are we going to land, uncle
Phaeton?" queried Bruno, taking note of that preoccupation,
which might easily prove dangerous under existing circumstances.
That question served to recall the
professor to more material points, and, after a keen, sweeping look
around, he nodded assent.
"Yes, as soon as I can discover
or secure a fair chance. I wish to see more -- I must secure a fairer
view of the -- of yonder place."
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"Will it not be too dangerous,
though? Not for us, especially, uncle, but for the aerostat? Even if
these be not the people you imagine -- "
"They are past all doubt a
remnant of the ancient Aztecs. Yonder lies the true Lost City, and we
are -- oh, try to comprehend all that statement means, my lads!
Picture to yourselves what boundless fame and unlimited credit awaits
our report to the outer world! The benighted world! The besotted
world! The -- the -- "
"While we'll form the upsotted
world, or a portion of it, without something is done, -- and that in
a howling hurry, too!" fairly spluttered Waldo, as the again
neglected air-ship sped swiftly towards a more elevated portion of
that earth, part of the tall hill-crest which acted as nature's
barricade to yonder by nature depressed valley.
"Time enough, lad, time enough,
since we are going to land," coolly assured the professor,
deftly manipulating the steering-gear and still curying around those
tree-crowned hills. "If we are really hunted after, 'twill
naturally be in the quarter of our vanishment, while by alighting
around yonder, nearly at right angles with our initial approach, we
will have naught to fear from the -- the Aztecan clans!"
Clearly the professor had settled in
his own mind
-168-
just what lay before them, and nothing short of the Lost City
of the Aztecs would come anywhere near satisfying that exalted ideal.
And, taking all points into full consideration, was there anything so
very absurd in his method of reasoning, or of drawing a deduction?
Still, that exaltation did not
prevent uncle Phaeton from taking all essential precautions, and it
was only when an especially secure landing-place was sighted that he
really attempted to touch the earth.
Fully one-half of that wide circuit
had been made, and as nothing could be detected to give birth to
fears for either self or air-ship, the aeronauts skilfully landed
their vessel with only the slightest of jars. It was a well-screened
location, where naught could be seen of the flying-machine until
close at hand, yet so arranged as to make a hasty flight a very easy
matter should the occasion ever arise.
Not until the landing was effected
and all made secure, did Professor Featherwit speak again. Then it
was with gravely earnest speech which suitably affected his nephews.
"Above all things, my dear
lads, bear ever in mind this one fact, -- we are not here to fight.
We do not come as conquerors, weapons in hand, hearts filled with
lust of blood. To the contrary, we are on a
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peaceful mission, hoping to learn, trusting to enlighten, with
malice towards none, but honest love for all those who may wear the
human shape, be they of our own colour or -- or -- otherwise."
"That's what's the matter with
Hannah's cat!" cheerfully chipped in the irrepressible Waldo. "I
say, uncle Phaeton, is it just a lie-low here until yonder fellows
grow tired of looking for what they can't find, then a flight on our
part; or will we -- "
"Have we voyaged so far and
seen so much, to rest content with so very little?" exclaimed
the professor, hardly as precise of speech as under ordinary
conditions. "No, no, my lads! Yonder lies the greatest discovery
of the nineteenth century, and we are -- Get a hustle on, boys! The
day is waning, and with so much to see, to study, to -- Come, I say!"
In spite of his initial attempt to
impress his nephews with a due sense of the heavy responsibilities
which rested upon them, Phaeton Featherwit was far more excited than
either one of the brothers. Doubtless he more nearly appreciated the
importance of this wondrous discovery, provided his now firm belief
was correct, -- that yonder stood a solid, substantial city, erected
by the hands of a people whom common consent had agreed were long
since wiped out of existence.
-170-
The story told by Cooper Edgecombe,
backed up by the articles taken from the person of the warrior whom
he had slain in self-defence, certainly had its weight; while the
brief and imperfect glimpse which he had won of yonder valley helped
to bear out that astounding belief. And yet, how could it be true?
Really believing, yet forced by more
sober reason to doubt, the poor professor was literally "in a
sweat" long ere another view could be won of the depressed
valley, although the landing of the air-ship was so well chosen as to
make that trip of the briefest duration consistent with prudence.
The natural obstacles were
considerable, however, and as they picked their way along, the
brothers for the first time began to gain a fairly accurate idea of
what was meant by the term, a virgin forest.
To all seeming, the human foot had
never ventured here, nor were any marks or spoor of wild beasts
perceptible on either side.
Although the aerostat had landed not
far below the crest of those hills, the adventurers had to climb
higher, before winning the coveted view, partly because the most
practicable route led down into and along a winding gulch, where the
footing was far less treacherous than upon the higher ground,
cumbered, as that was, with the leaf-mould of centuries.
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Still, half an hour's steady labour
brought the little squad to the coveted point, and once again
Professor Featherwit was almost literally stricken speechless, -- for
there, far below their present location, spread out in level expanse,
lay the secret valley with all its marvels.
Far more extensive than it had
appeared by that initial glimpse, the valley itself seemed composed
of fertile soil, yet, by aid of the river which cut through, near its
centre, irrigating ditches conveyed water to every acre, thus
ensuring bounteous crops of grain and of fruit as well.
Numerous buildings stood in
irregular array, for the most part of no great height, nor with many
pretensions towards architectural beauty or grace of outline; but in
the centre of the valley upreared its head a massive structure,
pyramidal in shape, consisting of five comparatively narrow terraces,
connected one with another only at each of the four corners, where
stood a wide-stepped flight of stones.
"Behold!" huskily gasped
the professor, intensely excited, yet still able to control the
field-glass through which he was eagerly scanning yonder marvels.
"The temple of the gods! And, yonder, the temple of sacrifice,
unless my memory is -- and
-172-
look! The people are -- they wear just such garb as -- Oh,
marvellous! Amazing! Astounding! Incredible -- yet true!"
Although their uncle could thus take
in the various details to better advantage, still the intervening
distance was not so great as to entirely debar the brothers from
finding no little to interest them, as was readily proven by their
various exclamations.
"Just look at the people, will
ye, now? Flopping around like they hadn't any bigger business than to
-- Reckon they're looking for us to come back, Bruno?"
"Or watching for the monster
bird of prey, rather," suggested the elder Gillespie. "Of
course they couldn't distinguish our faces, and our bodies were
fairly well hidden. And, even more, of course, they must be totally
ignorant of all such things as flying-machines and the like."
"Poor, ignorant devils!"
sympathetically sighed the youngster. "Well, we'll have to do a
little missionary work in this quarter, before taking our departure,
eh, uncle Phaeton?"
With a start, Featherwit descended
out of the clouds in which he had been lost ever since winning a fair
view of the secret city; and now, rallying his wits and fairly aglow
with eager interest in
-173-
this marvellous discovery, he began pointing out the various
objects of special importance, naming them with glib assurance, then
reminding the boys how wonderfully similar all was to what had
existed in Old Mexico before the conquest.
Bruno listened with greater interest
than his brother could summon at will. For one thing, he had long
been a lover of the genial Prescott, and, now that his memory was
freshened in part, was able to closely follow the course of that
little lecture, noting each strong point made by the professor in
bolstering up his delightful theory.
That monologue, however, was
abruptly broken in upon by Waldo, who gave an eager exclamation, as
he reached forth a pointing finger:
"Look! There's a white woman
yonder, -- two of 'em, in fact!"
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Chapter 16
CHAPTER XVI.
CAN IT BE TRUE?
THAT announcement came with all the
force of a bolt from the blue, and even the professor dropped his
glasses with a gasp of amazement, while Bruno would have leaped to
his feet, only for the hasty grab which his brother made at the tail
of his coat.
"White -- where? Surely it cannot be that -- Edgecombe -- "
"Augh, take a tumble, boy!" ejaculated Waldo, giving a jerk that rendered compliance nearly literal, though scarcely full of grace. "Want to have the whole gang make a howling break this way? Want to -- They're white all right, though!"
"Where? Which direction? Point them out, and -- I fail to see anything which would bear out your -- "
The professor was sweeping yonder field with his glass, searching for the primal cause of that latest excitement, but without success. No sign of a
-175-
white face, male or female, rewarded his efforts, and he
turned an inquiring gaze upon the youngster.
Waldo was peering from beneath the
shade of his hand, but now drew back with a long breath, to slowly
shake his head.
"They've gone now, but I did
see them, and they were white, just as white as -- as anything!"
Bruno frowned a bit at that
unsatisfactory conclusion, but the professor was of more equable
temper, for a wonder. He smilingly shook his head, while gazing
kindly, then spoke:
"I myself might have made the
same error, Waldo, but you surely were in error, for once."
"What! You mean I never saw
those white women, uncle Phaeton?"
"No, no, I am not so seriously
faulting your eyesight, my dear boy," came the swift assurance.
"But even the best of us are open to errors, and there were in
olden times not a few Aztecs with fair skins; not exactly white, yet
comparatively fair when their race was considered. And, no doubt,
Waldo, you saw just such another a bit ago."
But the youngster was not so easily
shaken in his own opinion.
"There were a couple of 'em,
not just such
-176-
another, uncle. And they were white, -- pure white as ever the
Lord made a woman! And -- why, didn't I see their hair, long and
floating loose? And wasn't that yellow as -- as gold, or the sunshine
itself?"
"Yellow hair?"
"Yes, indeedy! Yellow hair,
white skins, -- faces, anyway. Blondes, the couple of 'em; and to
that I'll make my davy!"
And so the youngster maintained with
even more than usual sturdiness, when questioned more closely,
pointing out the very spot upon which the strange beings were
standing, the top of a large, tall building, clearly one of the
series of temples.
In vain the field-glass was fixed
upon that particular point. The partly roofed azotea was wholly
devoid of human life, and though watch was maintained in that
direction for many minutes thereafter, by one or other of the
air-voyagers, naught was seen to confirm the assertion made by the
younger Gillespie.
For the moment that fact or fancy
dominated all other interests, for, granting that Waldo had not been
misled by a naturally fair Indian face, there was room for a truly
startling inference.
"Could it actually be they?"
muttered Bruno,
-177-
face pale and eyes glittering with intense interest. "Could
they have escaped with life from the balloon, and been here ever
since?"
"You mean -- "
"The wife and child of Cooper
Edgecombe, -- yes! Who else could they be, unless -- I'd give a
pretty penny for one fair squint at them, right now! If there was
only some method of -- It would hardly do to venture down yonder,
uncle Phaeton?"
The professor gave a stern gesture
of denial, frowning as though he anticipated an actual break for
yonder town, in spite of the odds against them.
"That would be madness, Bruno!
Worse than madness, by far! Look at yonder warriors, all thoroughly
armed, and eager to drink blood as ever they were in centuries gone
by! They are hundreds, if not thousands, while we are but three!
Madness, my boy!"
"Four, with Mr. Edgecombe,
uncle."
"And that means a complete host
so long as we are backed up by the air-ship," declared Waldo, in
his turn. "Those fellows!" with a sniff of true boyish
scorn for aught that was not fully up to date. "What could they
do, if we were to open fire on them just once?"
"Prove our equals, man for man,
armed as they
-178-
assuredly are," just as vigorously affirmed the
professor, inclined rather to magnify than diminish the importance of
these, his so recently discovered people. "You forget how the
Aztecans fought Cortez and his mailed hosts. Yet these are one and
identical, so far as valour and training and blood can go."
"Huh! Scared of a runty horse
so badly that they prayed to 'em as they did to their own gods!"
sniffed Waldo, betraying a lore for which he did not ordinarily
receive fair credit. "Why, uncle Phaeton, let you just slam one
o' those dynamite shells inside a chief -- "
"Nay, Waldo, must I repeat, we
are not here for the purpose of conquest, unless by purely amicable
methods. There must be no fighting, for or against. Savages though
most people would be inclined to pronounce yonder race, they are
human, with souls and -- "
"But I always thought they were
heathens, uncle Phaeton?"
The professor subsided at that,
giving over as worse than useless the attempt to enlighten the
irrepressible youngster, at least for the time being.
Silence ruled for some little time,
during which
-179-
each one of the trio kept keen watch over the valley, the
field-glass changing hands at intervals in order to put all upon an
equal footing.
One thing was clear enough unto all:
the Indians had been greatly wrought up by the brief appearance of
some queerly shaped monster of the air, and while a goodly number of
their best warriors had hastened out of the valley and up the
difficult passes, in hopes of learning more, still others were astir,
weapons in hand, evidently determined to defend their lives or their
property from any assault, should such be made, whether by known or
foreign adversaries.
This busy stir and bustle, combined
with the novel architecture and so many varying points of interest,
would have been a mental and visual feast for the trio of
air-voyagers, only for that one doubt: were white captives actually
in yonder temple? And, if white, were they the long-lost relatives of
the aeronaut, Cooper Edgecombe?
Quite naturally the interest
displayed by the Indians centred in the quarter of the heavens where
that air-demon had been sighted, hence our friends saw very little
cause for apprehension on their own parts.
Thus they were given a better
opportunity for thinking of and then discussing the new marvel.
-180-
Again did Waldo vow that his eyes
had not befooled him. Again he positively asserted that he had seen
two white women, wearing blonde hair in loose waves far adown their
backs. And once again Bruno, in half-awed tones, wondered whether or
no they were the mother and child borne away upon the wings of a
mighty storm, fifteen long years gone by.
"It is possible, though
scarcely credible," admitted uncle Phaeton, in grave tones, as
he wrinkled his brows after his peculiar fashion when ill at ease in
his mind. "Edgecombe lived through just such another experience;
though, to be sure, he was a man of iron constitution, while they
were far more delicate, as a matter of course."
"Still, it may have happened
so?" persisted Bruno, taking a strong interest in the matter.
"You would not call it too far-fetched, uncle?"
"No. It may have happened. I
would rather call it marvellous, yet still possible. And if so -- "
"There is but a single answer
to that supposition, uncle; they must be rescued from captivity!"
forcibly declared Bruno.
"That's right," confirmed
Waldo. "Of course all women and girls -- I mean other people's
kin -- are a tremendous sight of bother and worry, and all that; but
we're white, and so are they."
-181-
"We must rescue them; there's
nothing else to do," again emphasised the elder Gillespie.
"That is no doubt the proper
caper, speaking from your boyish point of view, my generous-hearted
nephews; but -- just how?" dryly queried the professor. "Have
you arranged all that, as well, Bruno?"
"You surely would not abandon
them, uncle Phaeton?" asked the young man, something abashed by
that veiled reproof. "To such a horrible fate, too?"
"A fate which they must have
endured for fifteen years, provided your theory is correct, Bruno,"
with a fleeting smile. "Don't mistake me, lads. I am ready and
willing to do all that a man of my powers may, provided I see just
and sufficient cause for taking decisive action. That is yet lacking.
We are not certain that there are white women yonder. Or, if white
women, that they are captives. Or, if captives, that they would thank
us for aiding them to escape."
"Why, uncle Phaeton! Think of
Mr. Edgecombe, and how -- "
"I am thinking of him, and I
wish to think yet a little longer," quietly spoke the professor.
"keep a lookout, lads, and if you see aught of Waldo's fair
women, pray notify me."
-182-
For the better part of an hour
comparative silence reigned, the boys feasting eyes upon yonder
spectacle, their uncle deeply in reverie; but then he roused up, his
final decision arrived at.
"I will do it!" were his
first words. "Yes, I will do it!"
"Do what, uncle Phaeton?"
asked Waldo, with poorly suppressed eagerness, as he turned towards
his relative.
"Go after Cooper Edgecombe, --
bringing him here in order that he may, sooner or later, solve this
perplexing enigma. Come, boys, we may as well start back towards the
aerostat."
But both youngsters objected in a
decided manner, Waldo saying:
"No, no, uncle Phaeton! Why
should we go along? You'll be coming right back, and will be less
crowded in the ship if we don't go."
"And we can better wait right
here; don't you see, uncle?"
"To keep the Lost City safely
found, don't you know? What if it should take a sudden notion to lose
itself again?" added Waldo, innocently.
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Chapter 17
CHAPTER XVII.
AN ENIGMA FOR THE
BROTHERS.
IN place of the indulgent smile for
which he was playing, Waldo received a frown, and directly thereafter
the professor spoke in tones which could by no possibility be
mistaken.
"Come with me, both of you. I am going back to the aerostat, and I dare not leave you boys behind. Come!"
Kind of heart and generally complaisant though uncle Phaeton was, neither Bruno nor Waldo cared to cross his will when made known in such tones, and without further remonstrance they followed his lead, slipping away from the snug little observatory without drawing attention to themselves from any of yonder busy horde.
Not until the trio was fairly within the gulch did the professor speak again, and then but a brief sentence or two.
"Give me time to weigh the matter, lads. Possibly I may agree, but don't try to hurry my cooler judgment, please."
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Waldo gave his brother an eager
nudge at this, gestures and grimaces being made to supply the lack of
words. But when, the better to express his confidence that all was
coming their way, the youngster attempted a caper of delight, his
foot slipped from a leaf-hidden stone, and he took an awkward tumble
at full length.
"Never touched me!" he
cried, scrambling to his feet ere a hand could come to his aid. "Who
says I don't know how to stand on both ends at the same time?"
Barring this little caper, naught
took place on their way to the air-ship; and once there, the
professor heaved a mighty sigh, wiping his heated face as one might
who has just won a worthy race. But he betrayed no especial haste in
setting the flying-machine afloat and Waldo finally ventured:
"Can we help you off, uncle
Phaeton?"
But he was assured there existed no
necessity for such great haste.
"In fact, it might be dangerous
to start while so many of the Aztecs are upon the lookout," came
the unexpected addition. "I believe it would be vastly better
not to leave here until shortly before dawn, to-morrow."
It took but a few words further to
convince the
-185-
brothers that this idea was wisest, and while the young
fellows felt sorry to have their view cut so short, neither ventured
to actually rebel.
After all, the day was well-nigh
spent, and, besides preparing their evening meal, it was essential
that their plans for the immediate future should be shaped as
thoroughly as possible.
Professor Featherwit had resolved to
fetch Cooper Edgecombe to the scene of interest, in order to give him
at least a fair chance to solve the enigma which was perplexing them
all. Even so, he felt that no small degree of physical danger would
attend that presence, particularly if it should really prove, as they
could but suspect, that both wife and daughter of the involuntary
exile were yonder, among the Aztecans.
Much of this the professor made
known to his nephews during that evening, the trio thoroughly
discussing the matter in all its bearings, but before the air-ship
was prepared for the night's rest, uncle Phaeton made the youngsters
happy by consenting to their remaining behind as guardians to the
Lost City, while he went in quest of the balloonist.
"But bear ever in mind the
conditions, lads," was his earnest conclusion. "I place you
upon your honour to take all possible precautions against being
-186-
discovered, or even running the least unnecessary risk during
my absence."
"Don't let that bother you,
uncle Phaeton," Waldo hastened to give assurance. "We'll be
wise as pigeons, and cautious as any old snake you ever caught up a
tree; eh, Bruno, old man?"
"We promise all you ask, uncle,
but does that mean we must stay right here, without even stealing a
weenty peep at the Lost City?"
Professor Featherwit felt sorely
tempted to say yes, but then, knowing boyish nature (although Bruno
had just passed his majority, while Waldo was "turned
seventeen") so well, he feared to draw the reins too tightly
lest they give way entirely.
"No; I do not expect quite that
much, my lads; but I do count on your taking no unnecessary risks,
and in case of discovery that you rather trust to flight, and my
finding you later on, than to actually fighting."
So it was decided, and at a fairly
early hour the trio lay down to sleep. Although so unusually excited
by the marvellous discoveries of the day just spent, their open-air
life tended to calm their brains, and, far sooner than might have
been expected, sleep crept over them, one and all, lasting until
nearly dawn.
-187-
Perhaps it was just as well that the
wakening was not more early, for the professor was beginning to
regret his weakness of the past evening, and had there been more time
for drawing lugubrious pictures of probable mishaps, he might even
yet have insisted on taking the youngsters with him.
Knowing that it was rather more than
probable some of the Indians would be stationed upon the hills to
watch for the queerly shaped air-demon, the professor felt obliged to
lose no further time, and so the separation was effected, just as the
eastern sky was beginning to show streaks and veins of a new day.
"Touch and go!" cried
Waldo, with a vast inhalation as he watched the aeromotor sail away
with the swiftness of a bird on wing. "And for a weenty bit I
reckoned 'twas you and me as part of the go, too!"
In company the lads enjoyed a more
leisurely meal than their relative had dared wait for, knowing that,
at the very least, they would have the whole of that day to
themselves, so far as uncle Phaeton was concerned. As a matter of
course, he would not attempt to return except under cover of night,
or in the early dawn of another day.
All that had been thoroughly
discussed and provided for the evening before, and was barely touched
-188-
upon by the brothers now. Their first and most natural thought
was of yonder Lost City, with its inhabitants, red, white, and
yellow, as Waldo put it; but being still under the foreboding fears
of the professor, they finally agreed to remain where he left them
until after the sun crossed its meridian.
It was a rather early meal which the
brothers prepared, if the whole truth must be told; and the last
fragments were bolted rather than chewed, feet keeping time with
jaws, as they hastened towards the observatory.
There was pretty much the same sort
of view as on the day before, the main difference being that many of
the Indians were labouring in the fields, instead of watching for the
air-demon.
Using the glass by turns, the lads
kept eager watch for the white women whom Waldo stubbornly persisted
were within the town; but hour after hour passed without the desired
reward, and Bruno began to doubt whether there was any such vision to
be won.
"The sun was in your eyes, and
you let mad fancy run away with your better judgment, boy," he
decided, at length. "If not, why -- what now?"
For Waldo gave a low, eager
exclamation, gripping the field-glass as though he would crush in the
reinforced
-189-
leather case. A few moments thus, then he laughed in almost
fierce glee, thrusting the glass towards his brother, speaking
excitedly:
"A crazy fool lunatic, am I?
Well, now, you just take a squint at the old house for yourself and
see if -- biting you, now, is it?"
For Bruno showed even more intense
interest as he caught the right line, there taking note of -- yes,
they surely were white women! Faces, hair, all went to proclaim that
fact. And more than that, even.
"Fair -- lovely as a painter's
dream!" almost painfully breathed the elder Gillespie. "I
never saw such a lovely -- "
"Injun squaw, of course. Couple
of 'em. Nobody but a fool would ever think different. The idea of
finding white women -- "
"They are ladies, Waldo! I
never saw such -- and I feel that they must be the ones lost by poor
Edgecombe when that storm -- "
"That's all right enough, old
fellow," interrupted Waldo, claiming the glass once more. "No
need of your playing the porker on legs, though, as I see. Give
another fellow a chance to squint. But aren't they regular
jo-dandies, though, for a fact?"
The two women in question, clad in
flowing robes
-190-
of white, lit up here and there by a dash of colour, were
slowly pacing to and fro upon the temple where first discovered by
the keen-eyed youngster. Thanks to the excellent glass, it was
possible to view them clearly in spite of the distance, and there
could be no dispute upon that one point: both mother and daughter
(granting that such was their relationship) were more than ordinarily
fair and comely of both face and person.
For the better part of an hour that
slow promenade lasted, and until the women finally passed beyond
their range of vision, the brothers took eager and copious notes.
Then, in spite of the fact that scores of other figures still came
within their field of vision, curiosity lagged.
"It's like watching a street
medicine show, after hearing Patti or seeing Irving," muttered
Bruno, drawing back and stretching his wearied limbs beyond possible
discovery.
"Or the A B C class playing
two-old-cat, after a league game of extra innings; right you are, my
hearty!" coincided Waldo, feeling pretty much the same way,
"only with a difference."
Shortly after this, Bruno suggested
a retreat to the rendezvous, and for a wonder his brother agreed
without amendment.
-191-
The brothers passed down to the
gulch, which formed the easiest route to their refuge, saying very
little, and that in lowered tones. The confirmation so recently won
served to stir their hearts deeply, and neither boy could as yet see
a way out of the labyrinth that discovery most assuredly opened up
before them.
"Of course we can't leave them
there to drag on such a wretched existence," declared Bruno. "We
couldn't do that, even though we learned they held no relationship to
Mr. Edgecombe. But -- how?"
"I reckon it's -- what?"
abruptly spoke Waldo, gripping an arm and stopping short for a few
seconds, but then impulsively springing onward again as wild sounds
arose from no great distance.
A score of seconds later they caught
sight of a huge grizzly bear in the act of falling upon a slender
stripling, whose bronze hue as surely proclaimed one of the Aztec
children from yonder Lost City.
What was to be done? Disobey their
uncle, or leave this lad to perish?
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Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII.
SOMETHING LIKE A
WHITE ELEPHANT.
ONLY a lad, slight-limbed and
slenderly framed to the eye, yet for all that gifted with a gallant
heart, else he surely must have been cowed to terror by the huge bulk
of such a dire adversary at close quarters.
Instead of trying to find safety in headlong flight, the Indian stood at bay, with both hands firmly gripping the shaft of his copper-bladed spear, at far too close quarters for employing bow and arrows, while the copper knife in his sash was held in reserve for still closer work.
Snarling, growling, displaying its great teeth while clumsily waving enormous paws which bore talons of more than a finger-length, the bear was balanced upon its hindquarters, evidently just ready to lurch forward with striking paws and gnashing teeth.
Its enormous weight would prove more than sufficient to end the contest ere it fairly began, while a slight stroke from those taloned paws would both slay and mutilate.
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No one was better aware of all this
than the Indian lad himself, yet he took the initiative, swiftly
darting his spear forward, lending to its keen point all the power of
both arms and body. A suicidal act it certainly appeared, yet one
which could scarcely make his position more perilous.
An awful roar burst from bruin as he
felt that thrust, the blade sinking deep and biting shrewdly; but
then he plunged forward, striking savagely as he dropped.
The Indian strove to leap backward
an instant after delivering his stroke, but still clung to the
spear-shaft. This hampered his action to a certain degree, yet in all
probability that stout ashen shaft preserved his life, which that
wound would otherwise have forfeited.
The stroke but brushed a shoulder,
nor did a claw take fair effect, yet the stripling was felled to
earth as though smitten by a thunderbolt.
All this before the brothers could
solve the enigma thus offered them so unexpectedly; but that fall,
and the awful rage displayed by the wounded grizzly as he briefly
reared erect to grind asunder the spearshaft, decided the white lads,
and, temporarily forgetting how dangerously nigh were yonder Aztecan
hosts, both Bruno and Waldo opened fire with their
-194-
Winchester rifles, sending shot after shot in swift succession
into the bulky brute, fairly beating him backward under their storm
of lead.
Victory came right speedily, but its
finale was thrilling, if not fatal, the huge beast toppling forward
to drop heavily upon the young savage, just as he was recovering
sufficiently from shock and surprise to begin a struggle for his
footing.
Firing another couple of shots while
rifle-muzzle almost touched an ear, the brothers quickly turned
attention towards the fallen Indian, more than half believing him a
corpse, crushed out of shape upon the underlying rocks by that
enormous carcass.
Fortunately for all concerned, the
young Aztec was lying in a natural depression between two firm rocks,
and while his extrication proved to be a matter of both time and
difficulty, saying nothing of main strength, success finally rewarded
the efforts of our young Samaritans.
The grizzly was stone-dead. The
Indian seemed but a trifle better, though that came through
compression rather than any actual wounds from tooth or talon. And
the brothers themselves were fairly dismayed.
Not until that rescue was finally
accomplished did either lad give thought to what might follow; but
-195-
now they drew back a bit, interchanging looks of puzzled doubt
and worry.
"Right in it, up to our necks,
old man! And we can't very well kill the critter, can we?"
"Of course not; but it may
cause us sore trouble if -- "
Just then the young Aztec rallied
sufficiently to move, drawing a step nearer the brothers, right hand
coming out in greeting, while left palm was pressed close above his
heart. And -- still greater marvel!
"Much obliged -- me, you,
brother!"
If yonder bleeding grizzly had risen
erect and made just such a salutation as this, it could scarcely have
caused greater surprise to either Bruno or Waldo, looking upon this
being, as they quite naturally did, in the light of a genuine
"heathen," hence incapable of speaking any known tongue,
much less the glorious Americanese.
True, there was a certain odd
accent, a curious dwelling upon each syllable, but the words
themselves were distinctly pronounced and beyond misapprehension.
"Why, I took you for a howling
Injun!" fairly exploded Waldo, then stepping forward to clasp
the proffered member, giving it a regular "pump-handle shake"
by way of emphasis. "And here you are,
-196-
slinging the pure United States around just as though it
didn't cost a cent, and you held a mortgage on the whole dictionary!
Why, I can't -- well, well, now!"
For once in a way the glib-tongued
lad was at a loss just what to say and how to say it. For, after all,
this surely was a redskin, and the professor had explicitly warned
them against -- oh, dear!
Was it all a dizzy dream? For the
Aztec drew back, speaking rapidly in an unknown tongue, then sinking
to earth like one overpowered by sudden physical weakness.
Bruno Gillespie, too, was recalling
his uncle's earnest cautions, and now took prompt action. He quickly
secured the weapons which had been scattered as the Indian fell
before the grizzly's paw, then the brothers drew a little apart to
consult together.
"What'll we do about it?"
whisperingly demanded Waldo, keeping a wary eye upon yonder redskin.
"You tell, for blamed if I know how!"
"We daren't let him go free,
else he might fetch the whole tribe upon our track," said Bruno,
in the same low tones, no whit less sorely perplexed as to their
wisest course.
"No, and yet we can't very well
kill him, either! If we hadn't come along just as we did,
-197-
"`MUCH OBLIGED -- ME, YOU, BROTHER!'"
-199-
or if -- but he's a man, after all! Who could stand by and see
that ugly brute make a meal off even an Injun?"
Bruno cast an uneasy look around, at
the same time deftly refilling the partly exhausted magazine of his
Winchester.
"Load up, Waldo. Burning powder
reaches mighty far, even here in the hills; and who knows, -- the
whole tribe may come helter-skelter this way, to see what has broken
loose! And we can't fight 'em all!"
"Not unless we just have to,"
agreed the younger Gillespie, placing a few shells where they would
be handiest in case of another emergency. "But what's the use of
running, if we're to leave this fellow behind to blaze our trail? If
he is our enemy -- "
"No en'my; Ixtli friend, --
heart-brother," eagerly vowed the young Aztec, once again
startling the lads by his strange command of a foreign tongue.
He rose to his feet, though plainly
suffering in some slight degree from that brief collision with the
huge beast, and smiling frankly into first one face, then the other,
took Bruno's hand, touched it with his lips, then bowed his head and
placed the whiter palm upon his now uncovered crown.
In like manner he saluted Waldo,
after which he
-200-
drew back a bit, still smiling genially, to add, in slowly
spoken words:
"You save Ixtli. Bear kill --
no; you kill -- yes! Ixtli glad. Sun Children great -- big heart full
of love. So -- Ixtli never do hurt, never do wrong; die for white
brother -- so!"
More through gesticulation than by
speech, the young Indian brave made his sentiments clearly
understood, and if they could have placed full dependence in that
pledge, the brothers would have felt vastly relieved in mind.
But they only too clearly recalled
numerous instances of cunning ill-faith, and, in despite of all, they
could not well avoid thinking that this was really something like a
white elephant thrown upon their hands.
"All right. Play we swallow it
all, but keep your best eye peeled, old man," guardedly
whispered Waldo. "Fetch him along, yes or no, for it may be
growing worse than dangerous right here, after so much shooting."
"You mean for us to -- "
"Take the fellow along, and
keep him with us, until uncle Phaeton comes back to finally decide
upon his case," promptly explained Waldo. "Of course we
ought to've let him die; ought, but didn't! We
-201-
couldn't then, wouldn't now, if it was all to do over. So
watch him so closely that he can't play tricks even if he wishes."
There was nothing better to propose,
and though the job promised to be an awkward one to manage, Ixtli
himself rendered it more easy.
Past all doubt he could understand,
as well as speak, the English language, for he took a step in evident
submission, speaking gently:
"Ixtli ready; heart-brother say
where go, now."
Again the brothers felt startled by
that quaintly correct accent, and almost involuntarily Bruno spoke in
turn:
"You can talk English? When did
you learn? And from whom?"
A still brighter smile irradiated
the Aztec's face, and turning his eyes towards the secluded valley,
he bowed his head as though in deep reverence, then softly, lovingly,
almost adoringly, responded:
"She tell me how. Victo,
-- Glady, too. Ixtli know little, not much; his heart feel big for
Sun Children, all time. So you, too, for kill bear, -- like
dat!"
Bruno turned a bit paler than usual,
catching his breath sharply, as he repeated those names:
"Victo, -- Glady, -- Wasn't it
by those names,
-202-
Victoria, Gladys, that Mr. Edgecombe called his lost ones,
Waldo?"
"I can't remember; but get a
move on, old man. The sooner we're back where uncle Phaeton left us,
where we can see a bit more of what may be coming, the safer my
precious scalp will feel. This Injun -- "
"No scalp," quickly
interposed the Aztec, with a deprecatory gesture to match his words.
"You save Ixtli. Ixtli say no hurt white brothers. Dat so, --
dat sure for truth!"
Only partially satisfied by this
earnest disclaimer of evil intentions, Waldo gripped an arm and
hurried the Aztec along, leaving the bear where it had fallen, intent
solely upon reaching a comparatively safe outlook ere worse could
follow upon the heels of their latest adventure.
And Bruno brought up the rear as
guard, eyes and rifle ready.
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Chapter 19
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CHILDREN OF THE
SUN GOD.
NO difficulty whatever was
experienced in reaching that retreat, and milder prisoner never knew
a guard than Ixtli proved himself to be, silently yielding to each
impulse lent his arm by Waldo, smiling when, as sometimes happened,
he was brought more nearly face to face with that armed rear-guard.
Nor were the Gillespie brothers worried by sound, sign, or token of more serious trouble from others of that strangely surviving race. And it was not long after reaching the rendezvous from which the professor had sailed in the early dawn, that the youngsters agreed the echoes of their Winchesters could not have reached the ears of the Lost City inhabitants.
"That's plenty good luck for one soup-bunch," quoth Waldo, yet adding a dubious shake of the head as he gazed upon their bronzed companion. "And if it wasn't for this gentleman in masquerade costume -- "
-204-
"Ixtli friend. Ixtli feel like
heart-brother," came in low, mellow accents from those smiling
lips.
There certainly was naught of guile
or of evil craft to be read in either eyes or visage, just then; but
the brothers could not feel entirely at ease, even yet. How many
times had warriors of his colour played a cunning part, only to end
all by blow of tomahawk, thrust of knife, or bolt from the bended
bow?
At a barely perceptible sign from
Bruno, his brother drew apart, leaving their "white elephant"
by himself, yet none the less under a vigilant guard.
"He seems all right, in his
way," muttered the elder Gillespie, "but how far ought we
to trust him, after what we promised uncle Phaeton?"
"Not quite as far as we can see
him, anyway. Still, a fellow can't find the stomach to bowl him over
like a hare, -- without a weenty bit of excuse, at least."
"That's it! If he'd try to
bolt, or would even jump on one of us, it would come far more easy.
Look at him smile, now! And I hate to think of clapping such a
bright-seeming lad in bonds!"
"Time enough for all that when
he shows us cause," quickly decided Waldo, with a vigorous nod
of his curly pow. "Pity if a couple of us can't keep him out of
mischief without going that far. And we
-205-
want to pump the kid dry before uncle Phaeton gets back;
understand?"
Bruno gave a slight start at these
words, but his eye-glow and face-flush bore witness that the idea
thus suggested had not been unthought of in his own case.
"Then you really think -- "
"That there's more ways than
one of skinning a cat," oracularly observed Waldo. "Without
showing it too mighty plainly, one or the other of us can always be
ready and prepared to dump the laddy-buck, in case he tries to come
any of his didoes. And, at the same time, we can be hugging up to him
just as sweetly as though we knew he was on the dead level.
Understand?"
Possibly the programme might have
been a little more elegantly expressed, but Waldo, as a rule, cared
more for substance than form, and his speech possessed one merit,
that of perspicuity.
Having reached this fair
understanding, the brothers dropped their aside, and moved nearer the
young Aztec.
Ixtli gazed keenly into first one
face, then the other, plainly enough endeavouring to read the truth
as might be expressed therein, as related to himself. What he saw
must have proved fairly satisfactory,
-206-
since he gave another bright smile, then spoke in really
musical tones:
"Good, -- brother, now! That
more good, too!"
In spite of the suspicions, which
seem inborn where people of the red race are concerned, both Bruno
and Waldo felt more and more drawn towards this remarkable specimen
of a still more remarkable tribe; and not many more minutes had sped
by ere the younger couple were chatting together in amicable fashion,
although finding some little difficulty in Ixtli's rather limited
vocabulary.
Not a little to his elder brother's
impatience, Waldo apparently took a deeper interest in the recent
adventure than in the subject which claimed his own busiest thoughts,
but he hardly cared to crowd the youngster, lest he make matters even
worse.
Aided by the sort of freemasonry
which naturally exists between lads of an adventurous nature, Waldo
readily succeeded in picking up considerable information from the
Aztec, even before broaching that all-important matter.
Ixtli was the only son of a famed
warrior and chieftain of the Aztecan clans, by name Aztotl, or the
Red Heron. He, in common with so many of his people, had witnessed
the approach and abrupt
-207-
departure of the strange bird in the air, and had hastened
forth in quest of the monster.
He failed to see aught more of the
strange creature, but, disliking to return home without something to
show for the trip, remained out over night, then chanced to fairly
stumble into the way of a mighty grizzly.
There were a few moments during
which he might possibly have escaped through headlong flight, but he
was too proud for that, and but for the timely arrival and prompt
action on the part of his white brothers would almost certainly have
paid the penalty with his life.
Then followed more thanks and broken
expressions of gratitude, all of which Waldo magnanimously waved
aside as wholly unnecessary.
"Don't work up a sweat for a
little thing like that, old man. Of course we saw you were an Injun
and -- ahem! I mean, how in time did you happen to catch hold of our
lingo so mighty pat, laddy-buck?"
"My brother means to ask who
taught you to speak as we do, Ixtli?" amended Bruno, catching at
the wished-for opportunity now it offered.
"And who was that nice little
gal with the yellow hair? Is she -- what did you call her? Gladys
And the rest of it Edgecombe?"
-208-
Waldo was eager enough now that the
ice was fairly broken, but his very volubility served to complicate
matters rather than to hasten the desired information.
Ixtli apparently thought in English
pretty much as he spoke it, -- slowly, and with care. When hurried,
his brain and tongue naturally fell back upon his native language.
Sounds issued through his lips, but,
despite all their animation, these proved to be but empty sounds to
the eager brothers. And, divining the truth, Bruno checked his
brother, himself acting as questioner, pretty soon striking the right
chord, after which Ixtli fared very well.
Still, thanks to his difficulty in
finding the right words with which to express his full meaning, it
took both time and patience for even Bruno to learn all he desired;
and even if such a course would be desirable, lack of space forbids
giving a literal record of questions and answers, since the general
result of that cross-examination may be put so much more compactly
before the generous reader.
The first point made clear was that
the young Aztec owed his imperfect knowledge of the English language
to certain Children of the Sun, whom he named as if christened Victo
and Glady. With this
-209-
as starting-point, the rest formed a mere question of time and
perseverance.
Growing in animation as he
proceeded, Ixtli told of the coming to their city of those glorious
children; riding upon the wings of an awful storm, yet issuing
unharmed, unawed, bright of face, as the mighty orb the sons of
Anahuac worshipped.
He told how an envious few held to
the contrary: that these fair-skins had come as evil emissaries from
the still more evil Mictlanteuctli, mighty Lord of Death-land, who
had laden them with pestilence and brain-sorrow and eye-darkness,
with orders to devastate this, the last fair city of the ancient
race.
With low, sternly suppressed tones,
the young warrior went on to tell of what followed: of the wicked
attempt made by those malcontents to punish the bearers of death and
misery; then, his voice rising and growing more clear, he told how,
from a clearing-sky, there came a single shaft flung by the mighty
hand of the great god, Quetzalcoatl, before which the impious dog
went down in everlasting death.
"Struck by lightning, eh?"
interpreted Waldo, who seemed born without the influence of poetry.
"Served him mighty right, too!"
Bowing submissively, although it
could be seen he scarcely comprehended just what those blunt words
-210-
were meant to convey, Ixtli spoke on, seemingly with perfect
willingness, so long as the adored "Sun Children" formed
the subject-matter.
From his laboured statement, Bruno
gathered that the sudden death of one who had dared to lift an armed
hand against the woman so mysteriously placed there in their very
midst awed all opposition to the general belief in the divine origin
of mother and child; and ere long Victo was installed as a sort of
high priestess of the temple more especially devoted to the Sun God.
That was long ago, and when Ixtli
was but a child. As he grew older, and his father? Red Heron, was
appointed as chief of guards to the Sun Children, Victo took more
notice of the lad, and ended in teaching him both the English tongue
and its Christian creed, so far as lay in his power to comprehend.
Then came less pleasing information
concerning the Children of the Sun, which went far to prove that the
death of one evil-minded dog had not entirely purged the Lost City,
and it was with harsher tones and frowning brows that Ixtli spoke of
the head priest, or paba, Tlacopa the evil-minded, who had built up a
powerful and dangerous sentiment against both Victo and Glady, even
going so far as to declare before the holy stone of sacrifice that
the Mother of
-211-
Gods demanded these falsely titled Children of the Sun.
"The fair-faced God must come
soon, or too late!" sighed the Aztec, bowing his head in joined
palms the better to conceal his evident grief. "He has promised
to come, but hurry! They die -- they die!"
This was hardly an acceptable
stopping-point, but questioning was of little avail just then.
Satisfied of so much, the brothers drew apart a short distance, yet
keeping where they could guard their more or less dangerous charge,
conversing in low tones over the information so far gleaned from the
Aztec's talk.
"Well, we'll hold a tight grip
on him, anyway, until uncle Phaeton gets back," finally decided
Waldo, speaking for his brother as well.
-212-
Chapter 20
CHAPTER XX.
THE PROFESSOR AND THE
AZTEC.
FORTUNATELY for all concerned, there
proved to be no serious difficulty attached to that same holding. So
far as outward semblance went, Ixtli was very well content with both
present quarters and present companionship.
He likewise enjoyed the supper that, aided by a small fire kindled in a depression so low that the light could by no means attract any unfriendly eye, Bruno prepared for them all. And just prior to taking his first taste, the young warrior bowed his head to murmur a few sentences which, past all doubt, had first come to his mind through the wonderful Victo: a simple little blessing, which certainly did not add to the dislike or uneasiness with which the brothers regarded their guest.
"He's white, even if he is red!" confidentially declared Waldo, at his first opportunity. "More danger of our spoiling him than his doing us dirt; and that's an honest fact for a quarter, old man!"
-213-
Bruno felt pretty much the same, yet
his added years gave him greater discretion, and, in spite of that
growing liking, he kept a fairly keen watch and ward over the Aztec.
After supper there came further
questioning and answers, Waldo as a rule playing inquisitor, eager to
learn more anent the strange existence which these people must live,
so completely hemmed in from all the rest of the world as they surely
were in yonder valley.
Without at all betraying the exile,
Gillespie spoke of the lake and its mighty whirlpool, then learned
that the Indians really made semi-annual trips thither for the
purpose of laying in a supply of dried fish for the winter's
consumption.
As the night waned, preparations
were made for sleeping, although it was agreed between the brothers
that one or the other should stand guard in regular order.
"Not that I really believe the
fellow would play us dirt, even with every chance laid open,"
Waldo admitted. "Still, it's what uncle Phaeton would advise,
and we can't well do less than follow his will, Bruno."
"Since we broke it so
completely by tackling the grizzly," with a brief laugh.
"That's all right, too. Of
course we'd ought to've
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skulked away like a couple of egg-sucking curs, but we didn't,
and I'm mightily glad of it, too. For Ixtli -- what a name that is to
go to bed with every night, though! -- for Ixtli is just about as
white as they make 'em, nowadays; you hear me blow my bazoo?"
And so the long night wore its
length along, the brothers taking turns at keeping watch and ward,
but the Aztec slumbering peacefully through all, looking the least
dangerous of all possible captives. And after this light even the
cautious Bruno began to regard him ere the first stroke of coming
dawn could be seen above the eastern hills.
Not being positive just where the
air-ship would put in an appearance, since Professor Featherwit had,
perforce, left that question open, to be decided by circumstances
over which he might have no control, each guard in turn devoted
considerable attention to the upper regions, hoping to glimpse the
aerostat, and holding matches in readiness to raise a flare by way of
alighting signal. But it was not until the early dawn that Bruno
caught sight of the air-ship, just skimming the tree-tops, the better
to escape observation by any Indian lookout.
After that the rest came easily
enough. A couple of blazing matches held aloft proved sufficient cue
to
-215-
the professor, and soon thereafter the flying-machine was
safely brought to land, so gently that the slumbers of the young
Aztec were undisturbed.
Bruno gave a hasty word of warning
and explanation combined, even before he extended a welcoming hand
towards Mr. Edgecombe, who certainly appeared all the better for his
encounter with people of his own race.
Professor Featherwit took a keen,
eager look at the slumbering redskin, then drew silently back, to
whisper in Bruno's ear:
"Guard well your tongue, lad. I
have told him nothing, as yet, and we must consult together before
breaking the news. For now we have had no rest, so I believe we would
better lie down for an hour or two."
Mr. Edgecombe appeared to be
perfectly willing to do this, and soon the wearied men were wrapped
in blankets and sleeping peacefully.
Long before their lids unclosed,
Bruno had an appetising meal in readiness, although the others had
broken fast long before, and Ixtli, his hands tightly clasped behind
his back, as a child is wont to resist temptation, was inspecting the
air-ship in awed silence.
Taking advantage of this
preoccupation, Bruno
-216-
quickly yet clearly explained to his uncle all that had
happened, showing that by playing a more prudent part the young
warrior must inevitably have perished.
Then, making sure Cooper Edgecombe
was not near enough to catch his words, Bruno told in brief the
information gleaned from Ixtli concerning the Children of the Sun,
whom he and Waldo more than suspected must be the long-lost wife and
daughter of the exiled aeronaut.
As might have been expected,
Professor Featherwit was deeply stirred by all this, fidgeting
nervously while keeping alert ears, with difficulty smothering the
ejaculations which fought for exit through his lips.
After satisfying his craving for
food, the professor led the young Aztec apart from the rest of the
party, speaking kindly and sympathetically until he had won a fair
share of liking for his own, then broaching the subject of the Sun
Children.
After this it was by no means a
difficult matter to get at the seat of trouble, and little by little
Featherwit satisfied himself that Ixtli would do all, dare all, for
the sake of benefiting the woman and maiden who had treated him so
kindly.
At a covert sign from the professor,
Bruno came
-217-
to join in the talk, and his sympathy made the young Aztec
even more communicative. And Ixtli spoke more at length concerning
Tlacopa, the paba, and another enemy whom the Children of the Sun had
nearly equal cause to fear, one Huatzin, or Prince Hua, chiefest
among the mighty warriors of the Aztecan clans.
This evil prince had for years past
sought Victo for his bride, while his son, Iocetl, tried in vain to
win the heart-smiles of the fair Glady, Victo's daughter. And,
through revenge for having their suit frowned upon, these wicked
knaves had joined hands with the priest in trying to drag the Sun
Children down from their lofty pedestal.
It did not take long questioning, or
shrewd, to convince the professor that in Ixtli they could count upon
a true and daring supporter in case they should conclude to interfere
in behalf of his patroness and teacher, adored Victo.
The professor led the way over to
the air-ship, there producing the clothing and arms once worn by
another Aztec warrior, which he had carefully stowed away in the
locker, loath to lose sight of such valuable relics; truly unique, as
he assured himself at the moment.
Bruno gave a little exclamation at
sight of the
-218-
articles, then in eager tones he made known the daring idea
which then flashed across his busy brain.
"We ought to make sure before
taking action, uncle Phaeton. Then why not let me don these clothes
and steal down into the valley, under cover of darkness, to see the
ladies and -- "
"No, no, my lad," quickly
interrupted the professor, gripping an arm as though fearful of an
instant runaway. "That would be too risky; that would be almost
suicidal! And -- no use talking," with an obstinate shake of his
head, as Bruno attempted to edge in an expostulation. "I will
never give my consent; never!"
"Or hardly ever," supplied
Waldo, coming that way like one who feels the proprieties have been
more than sufficiently outraged. "Give some other person a
chance to wag his chin a bit, can't ye, gentlemen? Not that I
care to chatter merely for sake of hearing my own voice; but -- eh?"
"We were considering whether or
no 'twould be advisable to take a walk over to the observatory,"
coolly explained the professor. "Of course, if you would rather
remain here to watch the aerostat -- "
"Let Bruno do that, uncle. He
grew thoroughly disgusted with what he saw over yonder, yesterday,"
placidly observed the youngster.
-219-
"Waldo, you villain!"
"Well, didn't you vow and
declare that you could recognise grace and beauty and all other
varieties of attractiveness only in -- dark brunettes, old man?"
Professor Featherwit hastily
interposed, lest words be let fall through which Mr. Edgecombe might
catch a premature idea of the possible surprise held in store; and
shortly afterwards the start was made for the snug covert from whence
the Lost City had been viewed on prior occasions.
Naturally their route led them
directly past the scene of the bear fight, where the huge carcass lay
as yet undisturbed, and calling forth sundry words of wonder and even
admiration, through its very ponderosity and now harmless ferocity.
Professor Featherwit deemed it his
duty to gravely reprove his wards for their rash conduct, yet
something in his twinkling eyes and in the kindly touch of his bony
hand told a far different tale. His anger took the shape of pride and
of heart-love.
In due course of time the lookout
was won, and without delay the savant turned his field-glass upon the
temple which appeared to appertain to the so-called Sun Children;
but, not a little to his chagrin, the azotea was utterly devoid of
human life.
But that disappointment was of brief
existence,
-220-
for, almost as though his action was the signal for which they
had been waiting, mother and daughter came slowly into view, arm in
arm, clad in robes of snowy white, with their luxuriant locks flowing
loose as upon former occasions.
Both lads -- three of them, to be
more exact -- gave low exclamations of eager interest as those shapes
came in sight, while even Cooper Edgecombe gazed with growing
interest upon the scene, wholly unsuspecting though he was as yet.
A slight nod from the professor
warned the brothers to stand ready in case of need, then he offered
the exile the glass, begging him to inspect yonder fair women upon
the teocalli.
The glass was levelled and held
firmly for a half minute, then the exile gave a choking cry, gasping,
ere he fell as one smitten by death:
"Merciful heavens! My wife --
my child!"
-221-
Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI.
DISCUSSING WAYS AND
MEANS.
IN good measure prepared for some
such result, in case their expectations should prove true, friendly
hands at once closed upon the exile, hurrying him back, and still
more completely under cover, as quickly as might be.
Cooper Edgecombe seemed as wax in their hands, not utterly deprived of consciousness, but rather like one dazed by some totally unexpected blow. He made not the slightest resistance, yielding to each impulse given, shivering and weak as one just rallying from an almost mortal illness.
Yet there came an occasional flash to his eyes which warned the wary professor of impending trouble, and as quickly as might be the stunned aeronaut was removed from the point of observation, taken by short stages back to the spot where rested the flying-machine.
Ixtli seemed something awed by this (to him) inexplicable conduct on the part of the gaunt-limbed
-222-
stranger, but gave his new-found friends neither trouble nor
cause for worry, bearing them company and even lending a hand
whenever he thought it might be needed.
The Gillespie brothers were far more
deeply stirred, as was natural, but even Waldo contrived to keep a
fair guard over his at times unruly member, speaking but little
during that retreat.
With each minute that elapsed Cooper
Edgecombe gained in bodily powers, and while his mental strength was
slower to respond, that proved to be a blessing rather than
otherwise.
The rendezvous was barely gained ere
he gave a hoarse cry of reviving memory, then strove to break away
from that friendly care, calling wildly for his wife, his daughter,
fancying them in some dire peril from which alone his arms could
preserve them.
It was a painful scene as well as a
trying one, that which followed closely, and respite only came after
bonds had been applied to the limbs of the madman, -- for such Cooper
Edgecombe assuredly was, just then.
There were tears in the professor's
eyes, as he strove hardest to soothe the sufferer, assuring him that
his loved ones should be restored to his arms, yet repeatedly
reminding him that any rash action
-223-
taken then must almost certainly work against their better
interests.
The exile grew less violent, but
that was more through physical exhaustion than aught else, and what
had, from the very first, appeared a difficult enigma, now looked far
worse.
Only when fairly well assured that
the sufferer would not attract unwelcome attention their way through
too boisterous shouting, did the professor draw far enough away for
quiet consultation with his nephews.
Mr. Edgecombe was deposited within
the air-ship, secured in such a manner that it would be well-nigh
impossible for him to do either himself or the machine material
injury, no matter how violent he might become; and hence, in case of
threatened trouble from the inmates of the Lost City, flight would
not be seriously hindered through caring for him.
Professor Featherwit now gleaned
from his nephews pretty much all they could tell him concerning
sights and events since his departure in quest of the exile. That
proved to be very little more than he had already learned, and
contained still less which seemed of especial benefit to that
particular enigma awaiting solution.
-224-
True, Waldo suggested that Ixtli be
employed as a medium of communication between the Sun Children and
themselves; but, possibly because, as a rule, this irrepressible
youngster's ideas were generally the wildest and most far-fetched
imaginable, uncle Phaeton frowned upon the plan.
No; the young Aztec might prove true
at heart, even as indications went, but the risk of so trusting him
would prove far too great.
"That's just because you
haven't known and slept with him, like we have," declared Waldo.
"He's red on the outside, but he's got just as white a soul as
the best of us, -- bar none."
Bruno likewise appeared to think
well of the young brave, and suggested an amendment to Waldo's
motion, -- that he accompany Ixtli into the sunken valley, covered by
the friendly shades of night, there to open communication with the
Sun Children.
"By so doing, we could make
certain of their identity," the young man argued, earnestly.
"That, it appears to me, is the first step to be taken. For, in
spite of the apparent recognition by Mr. Edgecombe, it is possible
that no actual relationship exists."
"What of that?" bluntly
cut in the younger Gillespie. "Don't you reckon strangers'd like
to
-225-
take a little walk, just as well as any other people?"
"Patience, my lad,"
interposed the professor. "While we seem in duty bound to lend
aid and assistance to women in actual distress, we can only serve
them with their own free will and accord. Granting that the women we
saw upon the teocalli were other than those believed by our afflicted
friend -- "
"But, uncle, look at their
names! And don't Ixtli say -- tell 'em all over again, pardner, won't
ye?" urged Waldo, taking a burning interest in the matter, as
was his custom when fairly involved.
The young Aztec complied as well as
lay within his power, giving it as his fixed opinion that sore
trouble, if not actual peril, awaited the Children of the Sun, unless
assisted by powerful friends. He spoke of the mighty chieftain,
Prince Hua, and of the high priest, Tlacopa, who was, to all seeming,
playing directly into the hands of the 'Tzin.
"He say Mother of Gods call --
loud! He say sacrifice, and dat -- no, no! Quetzal' send -- Quetzal'
save -- must save Victo, Glady!"
Further questioning resulted in but
little more information, though, as Ixtli grew calmer, he emphasised
such statements as he had already made,
-226-
elaborating them a trifle. And, by this, his questioners
learned that, humanly speaking, the fate of the Sun God's Children
depended almost entirely upon the whim or fancy of the chief paba of
the teocalli.
Through Tlacopa issued the awesome
oracles, and when his voice thundered forth the dread fiat, who dared
to openly rebel?
Further questioning brought forth
one more important fact, -- that there was absolutely no hope of
either Victo or Glady coming forth from the valley, either by night
or by day. While ostensibly free of will as they were of limb,
neither woman was permitted to leave yonder temple, save under armed
escort; and guards were on duty each hour of the day and night.
"But we could get to see and
speak with them, Ixtli?" asked Bruno, eager to reach some fair
understanding as to the future course of action.
"Yes, white brother, go with
Ixtli," came the hesitating reply; but then the Aztec caught one
of Gillespie's hands, holding it in close contrast to his own brown
paw, shaking his head doubtingly. "No like. Keen eye, dem
people. Watch close. Find 'nother white skin -- bad!"
"You hear that, Bruno?"
asked the professor,
-227-
really relieved at such positive evidence in conflict with the
rash proposition made by the young man.
"Of course I thought of going
under cover of the night, uncle, and surely it would not be such a
difficult matter to darken my face and hands? With dirt, if nothing
better can be found. And if I wore the clothes you brought from the
cavern, uncle Phaeton?"
"That's the ticket!" broke
in Waldo, eagerly. "Why, in a rig like that, I could turn the
trick my own self!"
The consultation was broken off at
this juncture by a faint summons from Cooper Edgecombe, and Professor
Featherwit was only too glad of the excuse, hurrying over to the
flying-machine, finding to his great joy that the exile was now far
more like his old-time self.
Still, great caution was used in
revealing all, and it was not until considerably later in the day
that Mr. Edgecombe felt capable of taking part in the discussion of
ways and means.
He declared that his recognition had
been complete, in spite of the long years which had elapsed since
losing sight of his dear ones; and he earnestly vowed to never give
over until their rescue was effected, or he had lost his life while
making the attempt.
-228-
While the two air-voyagers were thus
engaged in talk, Bruno silently stole away with Ixtli, taking a
bundle along, and leaving Waldo to throw their uncle off the track in
case his suspicions should be prematurely awakened. Then, side by
side, two Indian braves silently approached the aerostat, causing
Professor Featherwit to make a hasty dive for his dynamite gun to
repel a fancied onslaught.
"Sold again, and who comes
next?" merrily exploded Waldo, dancing about in high glee as the
supposed redskin slowly turned around for inspection before speaking,
in familiar tones:
"Would there be such an
enormous risk of discovery, uncle Phaeton, provided I put lock and
seal upon my lips, save for the ladies?"
That experiment proved to be a
complete success, and after Cooper Edgecombe added his pathetic
pleadings to the young man's own arguments, Professor Featherwit
gradually gave way, though still with reluctance.
"I could never find forgiveness
should harm come to your mother's son, boy," he huskily
murmured, his arm stealing about Bruno's middle. "I'd far rather
venture myself, and -- why not, pray?" as Waldo burst into an
involuntary laugh.
Then he turned upon Ixtli, a hand
resting upon
-229-
each shoulder while he gazed keenly into those lustrous dark
orbs for a full minute in perfect silence. Then he spoke, slowly,
gravely:
"Can we trust you, friend?
Would you sell the boy to whose arm you owe your own life, unto his
enemies? Would you lead him blindly to his death, Ixtli, son of
Aztotl?"
A wondering gaze, then the Indian
appeared to flush hotly. He shook off those far from steady hands,
drawing his knife and with free fingers tearing open his dress above
the heart. Thrusting the weapon into Bruno's hand, he spoke in clear,
distinct accents:
"Strike hard, white brother!
Open heart; see if all black!"
Eye to eye the two youths stood for
a brief space in silence, then the weapon was let fall, and Bruno
gripped the Indian's hand and shook it most cordially.
"Strike you, Ixtli? I'd just as
soon smite my brother by birth!"
"And that's mighty right, too!"
cried Waldo, impetuously.
"I really begin to believe that
you are all in the right, while I alone am left in the wrong,"
frankly admitted the professor.
-230-
Chapter 22
CHAPTER XXII.
A DARING
UNDERTAKING.
STILL, that point was of too vital
importance to justify hasty decision, and the professor did not make
his surrender complete until the shades of another night were
beginning to gather over the land.
Meantime, partly for the purpose of keeping the youngsters employed and thus out of the way of less harmless things, the professor suggested that the huge grizzly be flayed. If the proposed scheme should really be undertaken, that mighty pelt, if uncomfortable to convey, would serve as a fair excuse for the young brave's as yet unexplained absence from the Lost City.
As a matter of course, Cooper Edgecombe felt intense anxiety through all, but he contrived to keep fair mastery over his emotions, readily admitting that he himself could do naught towards visiting the Lost City.
"I know that my loved ones are yonder. I would joyfully suffer ten thousand deaths by torture for the
-231-
chance to speak one word to -- to them. And yet I know any
such attempt would prove fatal to us all. The mere sight of -- I
would go crazy with joy!"
There is no necessity for repeating
the various arguments used, pro and con, before the final agreement
was reached. Enough has already been put upon record, and the result
must suffice: Professor Featherwit yielded the vital point, and,
having once fairly expressed his fears and doubts, flung his whole
heart into perfecting the disguise which was now counted upon to
carry Bruno safely into and out of yonder city.
He was carefully trigged out in the
warlike uniform secured by Cooper Edgecombe at the cost of a human
life, and, with fresh stain applied to his face and hands, the slight
moustache he wore was not dangerously perceptible.
" 'Twould take a strong light
and mighty keen eyes to see it at all, and even if a body should
happen to notice it, he'd reckon 'twas a bit of smut, or the like,"
generously declared Waldo.
Under less trying circumstances,
Bruno might have answered in kind, but now he merely smiled at the
jester, then turned again to receive the earnest cautions let fall
for his benefit by the professor.
-232-
Above all else, he was to steer
clear of fighting, and, without he saw a fair chance of winning
speech with the white women, he was to keep in such hiding as Ixtli
might furnish, trusting the young Aztec to post the Children of the
Sun as to what was in the wind.
Tremulous, almost incapable of
coherent speech, so intense was his agitation, Cooper Edgecombe sent
many messages to his loved ones, begging for one word in return. And
if nothing less would serve --
His voice choked, and only his
feverishly burning eyes could say the rest.
It was well past sunset ere the
youngsters set forth from the rendezvous, accompanied a short
distance by both Waldo and the professor; but the parting came in
good time. It would be worse than folly to add to the existent perils
that of possible discovery by some prowling Aztec who might work
serious injury to them one and all.
That great bear-hide proved a tax
upon their strength, even though the bullet-riddled head-piece had
been carefully cut off and buried, lest those queer holes tell a
risky tale on close examination; but Ixtli, as well as Bruno, was
upborne by an exaltation such as neither had known before this hour.
There was nothing worse than the
natural obstacles
-233-
in the way to be overcome, and, knowing every square yard of
ground so thoroughly, Ixtli chose the most practicable route to that
hill-encircled town.
The stony pass was followed to the
lower level, and the young adventurers had drawn fairly near the
first buildings ere encountering a living being; and then ample time
was given them for meeting the danger.
A low-voiced call sounded upon the
night air, and Ixtli responded in much the same tone. Bruno, of
course, was utterly in the dark as to what was being said, but he
still held perfect faith in his copper-hued guide, and left all to
the son of Aztotl.
The Aztec brave appeared to be
explaining his unusually protracted absence, for he proudly displayed
the great grizzly pelt, then exhibited the spear-head from which
protruded the tooth-marked wood.
Like one who was already familiar
with the details, Bruno slowly lounged forward a pace or two, then in
silence awaited the pleasure of his companion on that night jaunt.
Ixtli was not many minutes in
shaking off the Indian, and, almost staggering beneath his shaggy
burden, moved away as though in haste to rejoin his family circle.
Fortunately for the venture, the
Aztecans appeared
-234-
to believe in the maxim of going to bed early, for there were
very few individuals astir at that hour, young though the evening
still was. And by the clear moonlight which fell athwart the valley,
it was no difficult task to catch sight before being seen, where eyes
so busy as those of the two young men were concerned.
Only once were they forced to make a
brief detour in order to escape meeting another redskin, and then a
guarded whisper from the lips of the Aztec warned Bruno that they
were almost at the teocalli wherein the Children of the Sun made
their home and abiding-place.
Leaving the grizzly pelt at a
corner, for the time being, Ixtli led his white friend up and into
the Temple of the Sun, pressing a hand by way of added caution.
Although he had declared that an
armed guard was kept night and day over the Sun Children, and that he
hoped to pass Bruno as well as himself without any serious
difficulty, since he had long been a favoured visitor, and ever
welcomed by Victo and Glady, the temple was seemingly without such
protection upon the present occasion.
Ixtli expressed great surprise when
this fact became evident, and he showed uneasiness as to
-235-
the welfare of his beloved patroness and kindly teacher.
Surely something evil was impending!
His father, Aztotl, was chieftain of the guards, and wholly devoted
to the Sun Children, ready at all times to risk life in their behalf.
Now, if the usual guards were lacking, surely it portended evil, --
treachery, no doubt, at the bottom of which the paba and the 'Tzin
almost certainly lurked.
All this Ixtli contrived to convey
to Bruno, who fairly well shared that anxiety, but who was more for
going ahead with a bold rush, to learn the worst as quickly as might
be.
Still, unfamiliar with the
construction of the temple as he was, Bruno felt helpless without his
guide, and so timed his progress by that of Ixtli, right hand tightly
gripping the handle of his "hand-wood," or maquahuitl,
resolved to give a good account of either of those rascally varlets
in case trouble lay ahead.
The unwonted desolation which
appeared to reign on all sides was plainly troubling the Aztec brave,
and he seemed to suspect a cunning ambuscade, judging from his slow
advance, pausing at nearly every step to bend ear in keen listening.
Still, nothing was actually seen or
heard until after the young men reached the upper elevation, upon a
-236-
portion of which the Sun Children had been first sighted by
the air-voyagers.
Here the first sound of human voices
was heard, and Bruno stopped short in obedience to the almost fierce
grip which Ixtli closed upon his nearest arm, listening for a brief
space, then breathing, lowly:
"We see, first. Dat good! Him
see first, dat bad! Eye, ear, two both. You know, brother?"
"You mean that we are to listen
and play spy, first, Ixtli?" asked Bruno, scarcely catching the
real meaning of those hurried words.
"Yes. Dat best. Come; step like
snow falls, brother."
"Who is it, first?"
"Victo, she one. Odder man, not
know sure, but think Huatzin. He bad; all bad! Kill him, some day.
Dat good; plenty good all over!"
This grim vow appeared to do the
Aztec good from a mental point of view, and then he led his white
friend silently towards the covered part of the teocalli, from whence
those sounds emanated.
Curtains of thick stuff served to
shut in the light and to partly smother the sound of voices, but
Ixtli cautiously formed a couple of peepholes of which they quickly
made good use.
A portion of the sacred fire was
burning upon its
-237-
PRINCE HUA AND THE SUN CHILDREN.
-239-
special altar, while a large lamp, formed of baked clay, was
suspended from the roof, shedding a fair light around, as well as
perfuming the enclosure quite agreeably.
Almost directly beneath this
hanging-lamp stood the two Children of the Sun, one tall, stately,
almost queenly of stature, and now looking unusually impressive, as
she seemed to act as shield for her daughter, slighter, more
yielding, but ah, how lovely of face and comely of person!
Even then Bruno could not help
realising those facts, although his ears were tingling sharply with
the harsh accents falling from a far different pair of lips, those of
a tall, muscular warrior whose form was gorgeously arrayed in
featherwork and cunning weaving, rich-hued dyes having been called to
aid the other arts as well.
If this was actually the Prince Hua,
then he was a most brutal sample of Aztecan aristocracy, and at first
sight Gillespie felt a fierce hatred for the harsh-toned chieftain.
As a matter of course, Bruno was
unable to comprehend just what was being said, thanks to his complete
ignorance of the language employed; but he felt morally certain that
ugly threats were passing through those thin lips, and even so soon
his hands
-240-
began to itch and his blood to glow, both urging him to the
rescue.
Swiftly fell the reply made by
Victo, and her words must have stung the prince to the quick, since
he uttered a savage cry, drawing back an arm as though to smite that
proudly beautiful face with his hard-clenched fist.
That proved to be the cap-sheaf, for
Bruno could stand no more. He dashed aside the heavy curtain as he
leaped forward, giving a stern cry as he came, swinging the war club
over his shoulder to strike with all vengeance at the startled and
recoiling Aztecan.
Only the young man's unfamiliarity
with the weapon preserved Prince Hua from certain death. As it was,
he reeled, to fall in a nerveless heap upon the floor, while, with a
startled cry, another Aztec broke away in flight.
-241-
Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII.
A FLIGHT
UNDERGROUND.
THAT sudden appearance and flight of
another man took Ixtli even more by surprise than it did Bruno, for
he never even suspected such a possibility, knowing Prince Hua so
well. Still, the young brave was swift to rally, swift to pursue,
sending a menace of certain death in case the fleeing cur should not
yield himself.
Just then Bruno had eyes and thoughts for the Sun Children alone, who quite naturally shrunk back in mingled surprise and alarm at his unceremonious entrance. He forgot his disguise, forgot everything save that before him stood the fair beings whom he had vowed to save at all hazards from what appeared to him worse by far than actual death.
Gillespie never knew just what words crossed his lips during those first few seconds, but he saw that the women, in place of eagerly accepting his aid, were visibly shrinking, apparently more alarmed than delighted with the opportunity thus offered.
-242-
Doubtless this was caused mainly by
that odd blending of Aztec and paleface, the colour and garb of the
one joined to the tongue of the other; but the result might have been
even worse, had not Ixtli hastened back to clear up more matters than
one.
In spite of his utmost efforts, the
second Indian had escaped with life, although he received a glancing
wound from an arrow, as he plunged down towards the lower level; and
nothing seemed more certain than that an alarm would right speedily
spread throughout the town, if only for the purpose of hurrying
succour to the Lord Hua.
All this rolled in swift words over
Ixtli's lips, his warning finding completion before either of the
women could fairly interrupt the young brave. But then the one whom
Ixtli termed Victo spoke rapidly in his musical tongue, one strong
white hand waving towards the now somewhat embarrassed Gillespie.
"He friend; come save you, like
save Ixtli," the Aztec hurriedly made reply, with generous tact
speaking so that Bruno could comprehend as well as the women. "He
good; all good! Paba bad; 'Tzin more bad; be worse bad if stay here,
Victo -- Glady."
Thus given the proper cue, Bruno
took fresh courage and, in as few words as might be, explained
-243-
his mission. He spoke the name of Cooper Edgecombe, and for
the first time that queenly woman showed signs of weakness,
staggering back with a faint, choking gasp, one hand clasped
spasmodically above her madly throbbing heart, the other rising to
her temples as though in fear of coming insanity.
"He is well; he is safe and
longing for his loved ones," Bruno swiftly added, producing the
brief note which the exiled aeronaut had pressed into his hand at
almost the last moment. "He wrote you that -- here it is, and --
"
"Make hurry, quick!"
sharply interposed Ixtli, as ominous sounds began to arise without
the Temple of the Sun God. "Dog git 'way, howl for more. Come
here -- kill like gods be glad."
With an evident effort Victo
rallied, tones far from steady as she begged both young men to save
themselves without thought of them.
"I thank you; heaven alone
knows how overjoyed I am to hear from my dear husband, -- my poor
child's own father! And he is near, to -- But go, go! Guide and
protect him, Ixtli, for -- Go, I implore you, sir!"
"But how -- we haven't arranged
how you are to be rescued, and I must understand -- "
"Later, then; another time,
through Ixtli," interrupted
-244-
Mrs. Edgecombe, since there could no longer be a doubt as to
her identity. "If found here 'twill be our ruin as well as your
own. Go, and at once I fear that Lord Hua may -- "
"He 'live yet," pronounced
Ixtli, rising from a hasty examination o f the fallen chieftain. "Dat
bad; much more worse bad! He dog; all over dog!"
"And I greatly fear he must
have recognised you as one of a foreign race, in spite of your
disguise," added the elder woman, trouble in her face even as it
showed in her voice. "He will be wild for revenge, and I fear --
Go, and directly, Ixtli!"
Bruno Gillespie was only too well
assured that this latest fear had foundation on truth. Swiftly though
he had wielded the awkward (to him) hand-wood, Huatzin had sufficient
time to sight his assailant, and almost certainly had divined at
least a portion of the truth.
Doubtless it would have been the
more prudent course to repeat that blow with greater precision; but
Bruno could not bring himself to do just that, even though the ugly
cries were growing in volume on the ground level; and he felt that
capture would be but the initial step to death, in all likelihood
upon the great stone of sacrifice.
-245-
Imminent though their peril surely
was, Bruno could not betake himself to flight without at least
partially performing the duty for which he had volunteered; and so he
took time to hurriedly utter:
"Watch from the top of the
tower for the air-ship, and be ready to leave at any moment, I
implore you -- both!"
For even now his admiring gaze could
with difficulty be torn away from yonder younger, even more lovely,
visage; although as yet the maiden had spoken no word, even shrinking
away from this strangely speaking Aztec as though in affright.
"Come, brother, or too late,"
urged Ixtli, almost sternly. "Save you, or Glass-eyes call Ixtli
dog-liar. Come; must run, no fight; too big many for that."
And so it seemed, when the young men
rushed away from the lighted interior and gained the uncovered space
beyond. Loud cries came soaring through the night from different
directions, and dim, phantom-like shapes could be glimpsed in
hurrying confusion.
Apparently the majority only knew
that trouble of some description was brewing, and that the centre of
interest was either in or near the Temple of the Sun God; yet that
was more than sufficient to place the
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white intruder in great peril, despite the elaborate disguise
he wore.
Then with awful abruptness there
came a sound which could only be likened to rolling thunder by one
uninitiated, but which caused Ixtli to shrink and almost cower, ere
gasping:
"The great war-drum! Now must
go! Sacrifice if caught; come, white brother! See, dat more bad now!"
Those mighty throbs rolled and
reverberated from the hills, filling the night air with waves of
thunder, none the less awe-inspiring now that their true import was
realised.
The entire population was aroused,
and each building seemed to cast forth an armed host, while, as
through some magic touch, a circle of fires sprung up on all sides,
beginning to illumine both valley and barrier.
Bruno stood like one appalled,
really fascinated by this transformation scene for which he had been
so poorly prepared; but Ixtli better comprehended their situation,
and gripping an arm he muttered, hastily:
"Come, brother; stop more, make
too late. Must hide, now. Dat stop go back way came. Come!"
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Bruno roused himself with an effort,
then yielded to the Aztec's guidance, crouching low as the brief bit
of clear moonlight had to be traversed.
Instead of making for the steps
which, as customary, reached from terrace to terrace at each corner,
Ixtli crept to the centre, where the temple-side was cast into
deepest shadow, then lowered himself by his arms, to drop silently to
the broad path below.
A whispered word urged Bruno to
imitate this action, and those friendly hands caught and steadied
Gillespie as he took the drop. And so, one after another, the mighty
steps were passed, both young men reaching the ground at the same
instant, having succeeded in leaving the Temple of the Sun God
without being glimpsed by an Indian of all those whom the sonorous
drum-throbs had brought forth In arms.
"Whither now?" asked
Bruno, in guarded tones, as he looked forth from shadow into
moonlight, seeing scores upon scores of armed shapes flitting to and
fro, all looking for the enemy, yet none able to precisely locate the
trouble.
Just then a savage yell broke from
the top of the temple, followed by a few fierce-sounding sentences,
which Ixtli declared came from the Lord Hua, then adding:
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"He say kill if catch, but dat
-- no! Come, white brother. Ixtli show how play fool dat dog; yes!"
"All right, my hearty. Is it a
break for the hills? I reckon I can break through. If not -- well,
I'll leave some marks behind me, anyway!"
"No, no, dat bad! Can't go to
hills; must hide," positively declared the young Aztec. "Come,
now. Me show good place; all dead but we."
Evidently trusting to pass
undetected where so many others were rushing back and forth in
seeming confusion, Ixtli broke away from the shadow of the temple,
closely followed by Gillespie, heading as directly as might be for
the strange refuge which he now had in mind.
That proved to be a low,
unpretending structure which was of no great extent, so far as
Bruno's hasty look could ascertain. Still, that was not the time for
doubting the wisdom of his guide, nor a moment in which to discuss
either methods or means; and as Ixtli passed through a massive
entrance, the paleface followed, giving a little shiver as the
barrier swung to behind them.
"What sort of a place is it,
anyway, Ixtli?" he demanded, but the Aztec was too hurried for
words, just then, save enough to warn his companion in peril that
they must descend deeper into the earth.
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It was more of a scramble than a
deliberate descent, for the gloom was complete, and Bruno had no time
in which to feel for steps or stairs. Only for the aiding touch of
his guide, he must have taken more than one awkward tumble ere that
lower level was attained.
Then a breathing-spell was granted
him, and, while Ixtli bent ear in listening to discover if pursuit
was being made, Bruno drew a match from the liberal supply he had
taken the precaution to fetch along, and, striking it, held aloft the
tiny torch to view their present surroundings.
Only to give an involuntary start
and cry as he caught indistinct glimpses of fleshless bones and
grinning skulls, those grim relics of mortality showing upon every
side as his wild eyes roved around.
Then a hand struck down the match,
and a swift voice breathed:
"Dey come dis way. See us hide
-- come hunt, now, to kill!"
-250-
Chapter 24
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE SUN CHILDREN'S
PERIL.
NOT until the two young men passed
beneath those heavy curtains did either one of the Sun Children
really give thought to their own possible peril, but stood close
together, arm of mother about daughter as they listened to the
ominous sounds without, so rapidly growing in force and number.
Then, just as the deep tones of the war-drum boomed forth upon the night air, the fallen Aztec betrayed signs of rallying wits, giving a low sound which might have been groan of pain or curse of baffled rage. Be that as it may, the sound served one purpose: Victoria Edgecombe (to append her correct name for the first time) drew her child farther away, her right hand reaching forth to pluck a light yet effective spear from where it lay against the wall.
"Mother, mother!" faintly panted the maiden, plainly at a loss to comprehend all that had so recently transpired. "What is it? What does it all mean? Surely that was Ixtli; and -- the other?"
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"A messenger from your father,
child, and -- "
"My father? I thought -- he is
not -- not dead?"
"Thanks be to heaven, not
dead!" with hysterical joy in face as in voice. "Alive, and
seeking us, Gladys! Coming to rescue us from this death in life, and
now -- to your knees, my daughter; to thy knees, and lift thanks unto
the good Father who has at last listened to my moans!"
Again the war-drum boomed forth in
an awesome roll, but all unheeding that ominous sound, paying no
attention to the stirring of yonder savage, whose lacerated scalp was
painting his face a deeper red than even nature intended, mother and
daughter sank to their knees, lifting hands and hearts towards the
All-Powerful, even as their gratitude floated towards the Throne of
Grace.
Then arose the hoarse tones of
Huatzin, bidding his allies find and slay without mercy; cursing the
treacherous Aztec who had thus guided one of a strange tribe into the
very heart of their beloved city.
With a short, fierce ejaculation,
Victo sprang to her feet, right hand once again grasping shaft of
javelin, its copper point gleaming ruddily in the rays of lamp as
though already moistened by the heart-blood of yonder villain.
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Far differently acted the maiden,
her figure trembling with fear and wonder commingled, her lips
slightly blanched as she clung closer to her mother. Yet through all
ran a touch of girlish curiosity which helped shape the words now
crossing her lips.
"Who was it, mother? Who could
the stranger be? And whither has he gone?"
"With Ixtli, my child, and may
the good God of our own people grant them both life and liberty! If I
thought -- your father, Gladys! Alive and looking for his beloved
ones! See! from his own dear hand, and he says -- Hold! who comes
there?"
But the alarm appeared to be without
actual foundation, for the sounds came no closer, remaining beyond
the drapery past which Lord Hua had staggered only a few brief
seconds before.
Gladys rallied more speedily than
one might have expected, and she spoke with even greater interest
than at first.
"My dear father, and alive? Oh,
mother, why is he not here to -- why should he send another? And that
one -- he spoke our dear language, mother; surely he is not -- not as
Ixtli?"
"No; he was of our own people,
child, and I can hardly conceive how he came hither, save that Ixtli
must have acted as guide."
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"And those awful warriors!"
shivering as the war-cries followed the muffled roar of the great
drum. "If found, he will be slain! Do you think there is any
hope for him, mother? And he seemed so -- so -- "
"He is gone with Ixtli, and
Ixtli is true to the very core," Victo hastened to give
assurance. "I would rather trust him than many another of thrice
his years and warlike experience. Ixtli is true; ay, as true and
tried as his father, Aztotl!"
"Who loves you, mother, and
would win -- "
"Hush, child!" just a bit
sharply interposed the elder woman, yet at the same time tightening
that loving clasp. "Merely as the daughter of his Sun God,
Quetzalcoatl, and -- ha!"
Once again there came the echoes of
rapid foot-falls beyond the heavy draperies, and again this Amazonian
mother drew her superb form in front of her shrinking child, poising
the javelin in readiness for stroke or casting, as might serve best.
A strong arm brushed the curtains
aside sufficiently to admit its owner's passage, but the armed
warrior stopped short at sighting the Sun Children, his proud head
lowering, hands crossing over his broad bosom in token of adoration,
-- for it surely was more than mere submission to one held his
superior.
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With a low cry, Victo drew back a
bit, weapon lowering as she recognised friend in place of enemy.
"It is you, Aztotl?" she
spoke, in mellow tones. "I thought -- did you remove the usual
guards, this evening?"
"The blame falls to my share,
Sun Child," the Red Heron made answer, with a meekness strange
in one of his build and general appearance, that of a king among
ordinary warriors.
"Not justly, nor through fault
of your own, my good and true friend," the elder woman made
haste to give assurance. "Not even thy lips shall speak slander
of Aztotl the True-heart, my brother."
With a swift advance the Red Heron
caught the unarmed hand, to bend over it until his lips barely
brushed the soft, perfumed skin. Then he sank to one knee, bowing his
head until his brow touched the floor beneath her sandalled feet.
Swiftly, gracefully, these movements
were made, and where they would have appeared fulsome or degraded in
some, with this warrior the effect was far from disagreeable to see
or to experience.
Victo flushed warmly and drew back a
little farther, for the memory of those words let fall by Gladys came
back with unpleasant distinctness. And was
-255-
she so certain that Aztotl looked upon her as merely a
god-descended priestess?
The Red Heron arose easily, head
rising proudly above his shapely shoulders as he met those great blue
eyes, -- eyes as pure and as fathomless as the cloudless sky in
midsummer.
And then, more like one giving a
bare statement of facts than one offering a defence for himself,
Aztotl spoke of a faithless subordinate, who was guilty of either
careless neglect, or worse.
"It may be that Tezcatl lost
his wits through strong waters, Sun Child, or even that he took evil
pay from still more vile hands. You have seen the last of him,
though, Child of Quetzal'l."
"You surely do not mean that --
"
Aztotl lightly tapped the knife-hilt
showing above his maxtlatl, coldly adding words to that
significant gesture:
"There is no place for fool or
traitor upon the body-guard of the Sun Children. Tezcatl sinned; he
has paid full forfeit. And just so shall all others perish who dare
cast an evil glance towards -- ha!"
Another outcry arose from the other
side of the curtained recess, and the Red Heron instantly sprang away
in that direction, hands gripping weapons in readiness for instant
use in case of need.
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Almost as swiftly, Victo and the
maiden followed, one through fear, the other through utter lack of
fear, for herself.
Those savage cries came from the
lips of none other than the chieftain whose now bare head bore
significant traces of Bruno Gillespie's handiwork, and he seemed bent
on rushing directly into the presence of the Sun Children, until Red
Heron interposed, stern and icy-toned:
"Stand back, my Lord Hua!"
he ordered, left hand advanced with open palm, but its dexter mate
armed and ready for hot work if that must come. "Venture no
closer, on thy peril, chief!"
Huatzin recoiled a bit, though that
might have been more through surprise than because he feared this
proud warrior. He gripped his knife-hilt, and partly drew the blade
from its supporting sash. A hissing oath escaped his lips, and he
crouched a trifle, as a wild beast gathers its deadliest force prior
to making a death leap.
"Darest thou bar my path,
Aztotl?" he cried, hoarsely. "Make way, I bid thee; make
way, for I will see the Sun Children and -- "
"Not so, my Lord Hua,"
coldly interrupted the master of guards, that warning palm still
turned to the front. "You are here without law or leave,
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and know what the edict says: from the going to the return of
the sun, these stones are sacred from all feet save those of the Sun
Children and their regular body-guard."
"What care I for laws? Or for
such as thou, Red Heron? I will that such a thing shall be, and it
comes to pass. And -- thou dare to bar my way, Aztotl?"
"Ay. By words if they prove
sufficient. By force if called for. By death if worst must come; even
the death of a mighty chieftain like Lord Hua would not be too great
a feat."
For a brief space it seemed as
though Huatzin would make a leap to which there could be but one
termination, death to one or to both. But Aztotl coldly spoke on:
"I have given you fair and
friendly warning, Lord Hua. Go, now, while the path of peace lies
open. Go, else I sound the call, and my guard will take you in
charge, just as they would any other rascally intruder."
"Your precious son, for
instance?" retorted the 'Tzin, viciously. "He came with one
whom -- one of a different race from our own, Aztotl! A traitor in
thy own family, yet thou darest hint at -- "
Aztotl lifted a bent finger to his
lips, sounding a
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shrill, far-penetrating whistle. The response was prompt
indeed, an armed force advancing with weapons held ready, awaiting
only word from commander to punish that rash intruder by hurling him
to death over the terraces.
Although nearly beside himself with
fury, Huatzin glared defiance at both guard and its commander, then
turned more directly upon the Sun Children, speaking in savage tones:
"Unto you, proud Victo, I'll
either win you as my -- "
"Go on, Lord Hua," coldly
spoke the woman, as his voice choked.
"I'll win and wear you as my
squaw, or else give you to the stone of sacrifice!" he snarled,
then turned away as Aztotl motioned his guards to clear the temple of
all intruders, then see that none other dared enter.
-259-
Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV.
WALDO GOES FISHING.
IT was with stronger forebodings
than he dared acknowledge even to himself, that Professor Featherwit
watched the two young men out of sight in the early gloom, and
scarcely had his nephew passed beyond hearing than uncle Phaeton
would gladly have recalled Bruno.
Waldo made light of all fears, prophesying complete success, and even going so far as to predict Bruno's return accompanied by the Children of the Sun; enthusiastic words which set the exile to trembling with excess of joy and anticipation.
What, then, was the blank dismay of all when, floating through the night, came the hollow throbbing of yonder mighty war-drum, fetching each person to his feet and holding him spellbound for the first few seconds.
Cooper Edgecombe turned sick at heart, even while ignorant as to the method of sending forth that alarm, his hollow groan being the first sound to
-260-
follow the simultaneous exclamation which burst from three
pairs of lips as the surprise came. And but a breath later Waldo
broke forth with the excited query:
"What is it? What's broken
loose now? Surely -- thunder?"
Only Professor Phaeton at once
recognised the sound, through description, and each one of those
swiftly succeeding strokes seemed falling upon his heart, bidding him
mourn for his beloved nephew, upon whom his aged eyes had surely
looked their last in this life!
Yet it was the professor who took
prompt action, speaking sharply as he darted across to where the
air-ship rested:
"Come; get aboard, and let us
do what lies in our power. It was criminal to send the poor lad into
the jaws of death, but now -- hasten, there may be a chance, even
yet!"
The call was still hot upon his lips
when his two companions entered the aerostat, gripping tight the
hand-rail as Professor Featherwit sent the vessel afloat with
reckless haste. As by a miracle they escaped disaster through rushing
into a bushy treetop, and that fact served to steady the aeronaut's
nerves.
-261-
"On guard, uncle Phaeton!"
cried Waldo, making a lucky snatch at his cap, which one of the stiff
boughs brushed off his head.
"Ay, ay, lad," responded
the man at the guiding-gear, as the air-ship shot onward and upward,
now heading, as directly as was practicable, for the Lost City of the
Aztecs. "That was the very lesson I needed. I am steady of
nerve, now, and will show no lack, -- heaven grant that we may not be
for ever too late, though!"
"What do you reckon could have
kicked up such a bobbery, uncle? And what -- ugh!" as the
wardrum's throbbings again swelled forth in grim alarm. "What in
time is that, anyway?"
As briefly as might be, the
professor explained, and almost for the first time Waldo felt a
thrill of dread.
"If they've got Bruno, what
will they do with him?"
That very dread was worrying uncle
Phaeton, and already through his busy brain were flashing horrid
pictures of punishment and sacrifice, of hideous scenes of torture,
wherein the eldest son of his dead sister played a prominent role,
perforce.
He dared not trust his tongue to
make answer, just then, and sent the aeromotor onward at top
-262-
speed, leaning far forward to win the earliest glimpse of --
what?
He caught sight of blazing beacons
fairly encircling the Lost City, forming a cordon through which no
stranger could hope to pass unseen. He beheld hundreds of armed
shapes rushing to and fro, plainly looking for some intruder or other
enemy, yet almost as certainly failing as yet to make the longed-for
discovery.
Not until that moment had uncle
Phaeton dared indulge in even the shadow of a hope. The awful alarm
seemed proof conclusive that poor Bruno had been taken, through the
treachery of Ixtli.
Naturally enough, that was his first
belief, but now, as the air-ship slackened pace to circle more
deliberately above the valley, all eyes on the eager watch for either
Bruno or something to hint at his fate, Professor Featherwit lost a
portion of that conviction.
If Bruno had indeed fallen victim to
misplaced confidence, and had been craftily lured into this den of
ravening wild beasts, why all this confusion and mad skurry? Why had
not the traitor first made sure of his victim? Why such a general
alarm?
Although such haste in getting
afloat had been made, some little time had been thus consumed, and,
-263-
before the aerostat was fairly above the Lost City, Bruno and
Ixtli had dropped by stages down the shadowed side of the Temple of
the Sun God, to burrow underneath the ground as their surest method
of eluding pursuit.
Only for that, the end might have
been different, for, once sighted, Gillespie would have been rescued
by his friends, or those friends would surely have shared death with
him.
And so it came to pass that, circle
though they might, calling ears to supplement their eyes, swooping
perilously low down in their fierce eagerness to sight their
imperilled one, never a glimpse of the young man could they obtain,
nor even a definite hint as to where next to look for him.
"Surely they cannot have
captured Bruno, as yet?" huskily muttered uncle Phaeton,
hungrily straining his eyes without reward. "If the poor boy had
actually fallen into such evil hands, why such crazy confusion? Why
-- oh, why did I permit his coaxings to overpower my better judgment?
Why did I send him into -- "
The words stuck in his throat and
refused to issue. Phaeton Featherwit just then felt himself little
less than a cold-blooded assassin.
Mr. Edgecombe was but little less
deeply stirred,
-264-
although his feelings were more of a mixture. He grieved for
Bruno, and would willingly risk his life in hopes of doing the young
man a service, yet his gaze was drawn far more frequently towards
yonder temple, on the top of which he had -- surely he had
caught sight of his wife, his daughter!
"Let me down and try to find
him," he eagerly begged, as one might plead for a great boon. "I
promise to save him if yet alive, and -- let me try, professor; I beg
of you, give me this chance to show my heartfelt gratitude."
But Professor Featherwit shook his
head in negation.
"That would only add to our
trouble, friend. Knowing nothing of the dialect, you would be wholly
at a loss. And, looking so entirely different in every respect, how
could you hope to pass inspection?"
"All seems so confused, that I
might -- surely it is worth trying."
"It would be suicidal, so say
no more on that score," almost harshly spoke the usually
mild-mannered aeronaut, sending his vessel upon another circuit, only
with stern vigilance choking back the appealing shout to his lost
nephew.
This time the aerostat was brought
directly above the Temple of the Sun, where there appeared to be
-265-
some unusual disturbance, a number of armed guards fairly
driving a gaily arrayed Indian down to the lower levels, and that
greatly against his inclinations, judging from the harsh cries and
ringing threats which burst from his lips.
Recognising the building, and unable
to hold his intense emotions longer under stern control, Cooper
Edgecombe called aloud the names of his wife and daughter, begging
that they might come to him; but then the air-ship was sent onward
and upward, with a dizzying swoop, and Professor Featherwit gripped
an arm, sternly speaking:
"Quiet, sir! Another outbreak
like that and I'll lock your lips, if I have to send a bullet through
your mad brain!"
"I forgot. I could not wait
longer, knowing that my loved ones -- "
"You forgot that the lives of
all depend upon our remaining at liberty," coldly interrupted
Featherwit. "Without this means of conveyance, how can your
loved ones escape? Now, your solemn pledge to maintain utter silence,
or I will take you back to yonder wilderness, leaving you to shift
for yourself as best you can. Promise, sir!"
"I will, -- I do. Forgive me,
for I was carried away by -- 'twas there I saw -- after so many
horrible
-266-
years!" huskily muttered the exile, fairly cowering
there, before his saviour from the whirlpool.
"Enough; bear in mind that the
rescue of your loved ones depend on our efforts. If discovered by
yonder snarling beasts, and the machine is injured, -- farewell, all
hopes! Now, quiet, and look for Bruno!"
Again the air-ship circled over the
valley, in spite of the moonlight passing wholly unseen and
unsuspected by the Aztecs, whose energies were bent on ferreting out
mortal foes, not demons of the upper world.
Waldo leaned farther over the
hand-rail as they floated closer to an excited group of warriors, the
central figure being Lord Hua himself, fiercely denouncing Aztotl and
his son, Ixtli, as traitors to the common welfare, and calling upon
all honest braves to mete forth befitting punishment.
Professor Featherwit caught one name
indistinctly; that of the young Aztec in whose company Bruno had set
forth on his ill-starred venture; and hoping to learn more of
importance, he caused the aerostat to hover directly above that
particular group of redskins.
Waldo, never stopping to count the
risk he might thus fetch upon them all, silently lowered the grapnel,
by means of the drag-rope, giving a boyish
-267-
chuckle as the three-pronged hook descended amidst that
gathering, the sight causing more than one superstitious brave to
leap aside, with cries of amazed affright.
The air-ship gave a sudden swoop,
and the grapnel caught Huatzin by his girdle, jerking him fairly off
his feet, and swinging him into air, pretty much as a youngster might
land a writhing fish. But no fish ever sent forth so wild a screech
of mingled rage and terror as split the air just then.
Although hardly realising what was
happening, Professor Featherwit sent the aeromotor upward with a
mighty jerk. The shock proving too much for that sash, Lord Hua fell
back to earth, literally biting the dust, although he met with no
bodily harm beyond sundry bruises.
"Caught a sucker, and -- I'll
never do it again, uncle!" exploded Waldo, as he swiftly hauled
in his novel fish-line; but he had to take a severe lecture from the
professor before the subject was finally dropped.
And, worse than all else, the
air-demon was now the target for both eyes and arrows, and, perforce,
sailed swiftly away into the night.
-268-
Chapter 26
CHAPTER XXVI.
DOWN AMONG THE
DEAD.
IXTLI spoke with a degree of
earnestness which left no room for doubt, even if the young man's own
keen sense of hearing had not given warning but an instant later.
Ominous sounds came from the entrance, which had served them but so brief a time gone by, and Bruno knew that, even if they had escaped being seen while thus attempting to win such a gruesome refuge, the possibility of their having elected just such a line of flight had occurred to some of the redskins.
Gillespie heard the heavy doors open, then clang to again. He was fairly confident that some of the Aztecs had entered, although as yet the utter darkness hindered further recognition.
"What next, Ixtli?" he whispered, lips almost touching the face of his young guide, as they stood close together in the mirk. "They can't take me alive! Is it fight, or -- "
-269-
"No fight yet," gently
breathed the Aztec in turn. "Dey look, dat not make sure find.
Dey try see; we try not see all time. Dey come, we go, -- like dis!"
Catching a hand within his own
clasp, Ixtli led Bruno away in that utter darkness, seemingly well
acquainted with the lay of the ground, although it quickly became
evident that there must be more than one direct passage. Bruno felt
convinced that there were other chambers turning at right angles to
their present course, though it might have bothered the young man to
give entirely satisfactory reasons for such belief.
Ixtli did not flee fast nor far, in
that first spurt, pausing shortly to turn face towards the rear, a
low, musical chuckle coming through his lips.
"Dey come look, got no eyes for
see in dark," he explained, barely loud enough for Bruno to
catch his meaning. "We play fool dem all; dat be fun; heap fun
all time over!"
Ixtli was scarcely as precise of
speech while under the influence of excitement as when he had ample
time in which to pick and choose his words; but there was little room
for mistaking his meaning, which, after all, is fairly sufficient.
But this time the young brave was in
error, for only
-270-
a few moments later both fugitives caught sight of a dim light
in hurried motion far towards the entrance to these underground
crypts. That warned them of added peril, and Ixtli's chuckle died
abruptly away.
"They'll fetch us now,"
grimly muttered Bruno, shaking his fairly athletic shoulders and
fingering the knife at his belt as though making preparations for an
inevitable struggle. "All right. They may kill, but I'll furnish
some red paint for my tombstone, anyway!"
It may be doubted whether Ixtli
fully appreciated this conclusion, yet he divined something of what
was spoken, and made swift response:
"No kill yet. Dey look, we
hide. Mebbe not find. Mebbe play fool all over -- yes!"
"Where can we hide that lights
won't ferret us out, though? If a fellow might only have the same
advantage; here in this darkness I'm not worth a sick kitten!"
Just a bit disgustedly came the
words, but Bruno was not giving over in weak despair. No matter how
vast the odds might show against him, he would put up a gallant fight
as long as he could lift his hand or strike a blow.
Still, he was by no means anxious
for the crisis to
-271-
arrive. He would far rather run than fight, under existing
circumstances; but whither, and how?
Ixtli took it upon himself to solve
the perplexing enigma, in a whisper bidding his white brother follow
with as little sound as might be, once more hurrying away through the
gloomy blackness, which was by no means rendered more agreeable to
Bruno by that fleeting glimpse of the dead men's bones.
There was little room left for
doubting the truth. Their presence in the death-cells surely was more
than suspected, judging from the actions of yonder redskins, who
flashed the light over and into each angle and corner, each niche and
jog, where a human being might possibly seek concealment.
They were not so many in number, but
still a larger force than could well be met with success by two
youths, even granting that Ixtli would turn lethal weapons against
his own people, which Bruno felt was by no means a settled fact.
For some little time the young men
kept without that limited circle of light, watching each movement
made by the searchers, and at the same time taking care that none of
the little party stole a dangerous march upon them by hastening in
advance of the lights.
Ixtli apparently enjoyed the affair,
much as a child might a successful game of I-spy, for he emitted
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occasional chuckles, and let fall soft whispers which, if
caught by other ears, certainly would not have deeply benefited the
fugitives when captured.
Thanks to that slow progress,
rendered thus by the care and minuteness of the search, Bruno began
to marvel at the extent of the catacombs, and almost involuntarily
calculate how many centuries it must have taken to accumulate such
enormous quantities of remains. For, thanks to yonder prying light,
he could see how high those grim relics of perishing mortality were
piled up in tiers, with here and there upright skeletons in position
of greater prominence.
Perhaps Gillespie might have been
better able to appreciate Ixtli's amusement had he even an inkling as
to how this game of hide-and-go-seek was fated to end. That an end
must come, eventually, was a foregone conclusion. And then?
He ventured to ask Ixtli how they
were to escape detection when they could retreat no farther, but
before an answer could be fairly shaped, that end seemed actually
upon them.
Without sound or warning of any
sort, another bright light showed at a considerable distance in the
opposite direction, and, as Bruno stared that way, he made out
several armed warriors who appeared to
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be engaged in that same occupation: searching that city of the
dead for the living!
Thus caught between two fires, there
seemed only one course to pursue, and, with the courage of his
fathers, Bruno spoke in low, grim tones to his young guide:
"No use for you to join in the
mix, Ixtli. I'll do the best I know how, but if I can't make the
riffle, if I go down for good and all, I ask you to convey the news
to my friends. You will?"
But Ixtli was not at the end of his
resources, and gripping a wrist, he urged Bruno towards yonder second
light, speaking hastily as they moved along towards the edge of that
wide passage. No fight, yet. Best hide; mebbe no find; dat best try
first. Den Ixtli fight like white brother, -- fast!"
There was time for scant speech, for
just then the two parties seemed, for the first time, to catch sight
of each other, and while the brave bearing the rude lantern still
maintained his slow movements, searching well as he came, the other
Indians came in advance, giving the fugitives barely time in which to
crouch down under temporary cover.
The moment these enemies had passed
them by, Ixtli urged Bruno on, then, in swift whispers, instructed
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him how to perfect his hiding, even aiding the young paleface
into one of the upright crypts, back of a grim skeleton, the
mouldering blankets assisting in covering the one of flesh and blood.
After like fashion, the Aztec sought
cover on the opposite side of the passage. None too quickly, either;
for now the single searcher drew dangerously nigh, peering into every
practicable hiding-place on either side, before moving onward.
Little by little he drew closer,
while the other band of searchers apparently turned off into a side
passage, or large chamber, since nothing could be seen or heard of
them by the fugitives.
In all probability, Ixtli's bold
ruse would have proved a complete success, for the Aztec warrior
showed no suspicion as he drew nearer; but it was not to be thus.
Fairly holding his breath, lest he
disturb some of the dry bones immediately in front of himself, Bruno
waited and hoped, only to feel his blood chill, and his heart fail
him, as a sickening horror crept over his brain; nor was that the
only creeping thing, -- worse luck!
Past all room for doubting, his
entrance into that crypt had disturbed the repose of a snake of some
description; for now he could feel the loathsome
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reptile crawling slowly up his back, turning the skin beneath
to scorching ice in its horrid passage.
One horrible nightmare minute that
lasted, then the serpent paused upon his shoulder and biceps,
touching his cheek with nose, then drawing back its ugly head to give
an ominous hiss.
Human flesh and blood could endure
no more, and Bruno flung the snake violently off, striking forcibly
against that mass of dry bones as he did so. With a rattling clatter,
the skeleton lost its frail coherence and tumbled outward, leaving
Bruno fairly exposed within the niche.
With a cry the Aztec warrior turned
in that direction, but ere he could fetch his light to bear upon the
right spot, Ixtli sprung forth to the rescue, hooting like a
frightened owl, as he dashed the light to earth, and, at the same
time, deftly tripping the Indian headlong.
Swift as thought itself he followed
up the advantage thus won, smiting the fallen brave heavily upon the
crown with a clubbed thighbone, depriving him of sensibility for the
time being at least. And then snatching up the still burning light,
he called, in guarded tones, to his white friend:
"Come, brother, play hunt, now!
Fast -- not
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stop here; dat bad for you see by dem so soon. Dat good you go
-- like dis way!"
Scarcely realising just what fresh
ruse the Aztec had in mind, but far from recovered from that horrible
fear of death from poisonous fangs, Gillespie submitted, Ixtli
hurrying him away, turning off into what appeared to be a side
passage, less spacious than that to which they had until then
confined their retreat.
The young Aztec hastily explained
his present scheme, which was to play the role of searchers as well;
and scarcely had he made that project known, than another difficult
test was offered their courage.
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Chapter 27
CHAPTER XXVII.
PENETRATING GRIM
SECRETS.
BRUNO caught an imperfect view of
moving figures at no great distance ahead, but ere he could fairly
decide just what they might be, his red-skinned guide swiftly
whispered:
"More come look. You don't say. Ixtli fool 'em -- easy!"
Making not the slightest attempt to avoid the issue, the young Aztec stepped a little in advance of Gillespie, thus casting him into partial eclipse, speaking briskly, as he met the two Indians, only one of whom bore a light:
"It is trouble for nothing, brothers. There is no sign here. If he saw aught, 'twas in a dream, I think. And now -- hark!"
Even there in the subterranean recesses something of the wildly excited uproar which followed Waldo's rash attempt to go a-fishing after his fellow men, and the sighting of that awful air-demon by the Indians, could be heard, and, without divining
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its actual import, Ixtli adroitly turned it to his own
advantage.
"They have found the strange
dog without!" he cried, sharply. "Come, my brothers, else
we will be too late for -- hasten, all!"
But only one-half of the present
group obeyed, the two Indians dashing at full speed towards the main
entrance to the city of the dead, leaving Bruno behind, wholly
unsuspected, and Ixtli chuckling glee- fully over the favourable
change in the situation.
"Dey go -- we come. Dis way,
brother," the Aztec spoke, moving in the opposite direction,
followed willingly enough by the now pretty well bewildered paleface.
"Whither are we going?"
Bruno felt impelled to ask, after a few moments more of blind
obedience. "How are we going to get out? And my friends, -- they
must have been alarmed by that great drum!"
Ixtli made response by touch rather
than in words, and, giving his companion barely time sufficient to
read aright that look of warning, he extinguished the light, leaving
themselves in complete darkness.
Naturally anticipating fresh danger,
Bruno strained his ears to catch at least an inkling of its precise
nature ere the trouble could fairly close in; but only
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silence surrounded them, -- silence, and an almost palpable
gloom.
"Not cat," assured Ixtli,
in a soft-toned whisper, as he divined the expectations entertained
by his comrade in peril. "Nobody come, now. All gone see what
noise 'bout, yonder. You, me, all right. Best mek no big talk, dough.
Come -- see!"
Apparently the young Aztec found it
no easy matter to elect words which should fairly convey his desired
meaning, and, abruptly giving over the effort, he moved on, one hand
lightly closed upon Bruno's wrist to guard against possible
separation in that utter darkness.
Nothing further was said until Ixtli
again came to a halt, Gillespie giving a low exclamation as he felt
what appeared to be a blank wall before them. Was this no
thoroughfare? Were they blocked in, to perish of starvation, unless
earlier discovered by the red-skinned searchers?
Far from agreeable thoughts, yet
such swiftly flashed across the young man's brain, lending an echo of
harshness to his voice as he spoke.
"Where are we now, Ixtli? How
are we going to get out of this? If you have led me into a trap -- "
Finger-tips lightly brushed his
lips, then the Aztec
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explained as well he was able, thanks to his limited
vocabulary.
Escape from the catacomb by the same
route they had taken in seeking refuge there was entirely out of the
question. Even though the redskins might have abandoned the search in
that precise quarter for the time being, thanks to the sudden alarm
which had broken forth in the valley, almost certainly there would be
an armed guard so stationed as to intercept any or all persons who
might so attempt to emerge.
This much Bruno gathered, then took
his turn at the verbal oars.
"But we can't stay here, man,
dear. Nothing to eat or to drink, and my friends worrying over us,
outside. We've got to get out; I have, at any rate. The only question
is, just how, and where?"
"Dere one way go," Ixtli
made reply, even his lowered tones betraying more than ordinary
impressiveness, Bruno fancied. "Mebbe easy, mebbe hard. Find
dat, when try. We go dis way. Best be still, dough!"
Bruno was ready enough to promise
all that, just so action was being taken, his uneasiness being by far
too deep for rest or repose. More on account of his uncle and his
brother, though, than for his own safety. He had not yet lost hope of
extrication
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from the perils which surely surrounded them, not quite
abandoned hope of rescuing the Children of the Sun as well.
Turning abruptly to the left, Ixtli
led the way into what appeared (through the senses of touch and
hearing) to be a narrow, winding tunnel, which presently took an
upward incline, then broadened into a chamber of greater or lesser
dimensions; the faint echoes told Gillespie there was an enlargement
of some description, but the utter darkness veiled all else.
Barely had the two adventurous
youths come to a pause, than dull, uncertain sounds came from almost
directly above their heads; and, after listening for a brief space,
Ixtli disappointedly breathed a fear that they would have to wait for
the time being.
"Why? What's going on up
yonder? And where are we, anyway?"
Beneath the great teocalli, Ixtli
made answer in his disjointed way of speaking. There the evil-minded
paba, Tlacopa, reigned supreme. And there, almost directly above
their heads, stood the sacrificial stone, upon whose flat surface the
Sun Children would be doomed to suffer the last penalty, provided
Tlacopa won his wicked will.
Bruno thrilled to his centre with
fierce indignation
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as he, little by little, gathered this information. Perish by
such hideous methods? Give up her fair young life --
For, rather queerly, considering
that Ixtli spoke of both Victo and Glady, he now had thought of --
could see but that one lovely face and shrinking figure, -- face and
form of the daughter alone.
Discovery might have come all too
soon, but for Ixtli's slipping a palm over those indignant lips and
thus smothering the outbreak which the young man could not avoid;
then, recalled to ordinary prudence, Bruno talked and listened by
turns.
Ixtli contrived to make his white
brother understand just how they were situated at the time: in a
secret channel of communication with the great war temple, through
which sanctuary he had hoped to lead his friend, thence to escape
from the valley itself, if a favourable chance should offer. Now
their way was barred, and they could only wait. Unless -- would Bruno
keep close guard over his tongue?
Yes. Anything, rather than remain
wholly idle, like this.
Adding a few minor cautions, Ixtli
took Gillespie by a wrist, and stole noiselessly forward, climbing
upward, over and into a contrivance which Bruno
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vainly sought to recognise by the sense of touch, but giving a
thrill of amazement when his guide paused long enough to whisper in
his nearest ear:
"Dis war-god body. Stand up in
teocalli, look on kill-stone. Wait; you see, hear, all dat, now!"
Thanks to the close association of
that night, with all its attendant perils, Bruno was growing fairly
skilful in interpreting the broken sentences of his copper-hued chum,
and he now knew they were moving about within the hollow image of the
Aztecan war-god, Huitzilopochtli, while --
He caught sight of several small
apertures, through which yellow light came dimly, and, almost without
thinking, applied his eyes to the one most convenient, peering forth
upon the broad sacrificial stone, with its foul, blood-stained
surface, the little channels intended to drain off the superfluous
hemorrhage, together with the gloomy, repulsive surroundings. And,
too, a most abominable stench appeared to rise from the altar of
death, and Bruno shrunk back with a shiver of disgust.
"No talk loud!" softly
breathed Ixtli, gripping an arm with force. "Dey kill, if find
now. Look, dat one Tlacopa; big priest, you call. Dem help
paba fool all people; so!"
Although his meaning was not fully
apparent,
-284-
Bruno caught renewed interest, and once more peered forth upon
the scene, weird and impressive enough, even from a Christian point
of view.
Headed by Tlacopa, a ceremony of
some description was taking place, lesser priests and other acolytes
performing their various parts, the incantations rising now loudly,
now sinking to a hollow monotone, the whole affair being none the
less absorbing when Bruno remembered that, perhaps, it might have
some connection with the vile plots against the Sun Children, if not
endangering life itself.
Gillespie likewise took note of
various other graven images; among them one of the not less hideous
war-goddess, Teoyaomiqui, or "divine war death," fitting
consort for the mighty "humming-bird" himself.
Meanwhile, Ixtli, who appeared to
look upon the whole affair as a more or less jolly good jest at the
expense of his superstitious people, took occasion to give his white
brother a few pointers, letting him see how easy it was for false
oracles to be manufactured to order; how certain the lightest wishes
of the head priest were to find speedy fulfilment at all times.
While thus divulging part of the
mysteries of the temple, that ceremony reached a finale, and the
little
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crowd slowly melted away, leaving but Tlacopa and a select few
of his trusted henchman. And Ixtli certainly caught enough of their
talk to alter his manner most materially.
"Come, quick!" he fiercely
whispered in Bruno's ear, gripping an arm, and fairly forcing the
young man to accompany his retreat.
Not another word was spoken before
the lower level was reached, and then Gillespie broke the ice, asking
what was the matter.
Dark though it was all around them,
Bruno could tell by sense of touch that his guide was powerfully
agitated, and, though Ixtli clearly hesitated before imparting the
asked-for information, persistence won the point; and then --
Imperfectly though that discovery
was set forth, Gillespie contrived to gather this much: Tlacopa
decreed that the Sun Children should be brought to trial, if not to
actual execution, when the morning sun arose!
"Never!" fiercely vowed
Bruno, all on fire, as he recalled that more than fair face. "Never,
-- while I live and draw breath!"
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Chapter 28
CHAPTER XXVIII.
BROUGHT BEFORE
THE GODS.
ONCE again Aztotl, the Red Heron,
was bowing humbly before the Children of the Sun God, but now there
was stern grief impressed upon his visage, rather than pure devotion,
such as one might feel at the feet of a divinity.
And the face of Victo was unusually pale, her lips tightly compressed to keep them from trembling too visibly, while her arm clasped Gladys with almost fierce love in its warm strength.
Aztotl glanced upwards for a moment, then slowly spoke:
"Such are the commands laid upon thy captain of guards, Daughter of Quetzal', the Fair God. He hath been commanded to fetch Victo and Glady to the teocalli, there to be -- no!" with an outbreak of fierce rebellion, drawing his superb figure erect, and gripping javelin until the springy ash quivered, as though suddenly winning life for itself. "The gods lie! They are speaking falsely, or -- or the paba lies, when trying to thus interpret the oracle!"
-287-
Gladys shrunk away, but her mother
stood firm, seeming to gain in coolness and nerve what this ardent
servant was losing.
"It must be thus, my good
friend," she spoke, in low, even tones. "The word hath come
to a soldier, and obedience is his first duty."
"Not when obedience means
leading to sacrifice -- "
"That may never come, good
Aztotl. We have committed no sin, in deed or in thought. The Mother
of Gods will not lay claim to an innocent victim. Or, even then, the
right shall triumph! Tlacopa is powerful, but hath Victo no
influence? Lord Hua may throw his influence to the wrong side,
but hath truth no answer?"
"If not truth, then death!"
sternly vowed the captain of the body-guard. "If Tonatiuh fails
to punish the enemies of his daughter, then this right arm shall hurl
the false prince down to Mictlanteuctli, grim lord of the
under-world!"
"What is it all about, mother?"
murmured Gladys, clinging in sore affright to the side of her
Amazonian relative. "Surely the people will not -- surely we
need not go forth to -- "
A mother's kiss closed those
quivering lips, and then, with far more assurance than she really
could
-288-
find in her heart, Victoria bade her child fear nothing; that
all would come aright in a brief while.
Little by little, the maiden's
terrors were calmed, and then she took position by her parent's side
with a greater display of nerve than might have been anticipated.
Through all, Aztotl waited, fiercely
silent, held from open rebellion only by the influence of the woman
whose very life was now menaced. And as the Sun Children stood before
him, in readiness to comply with the commands issued by those in high
authority, the Red Heron broke bonds.
"Say but one word, Daughter of
Quetzal', and all this shall never come to pass! Give me but
permission to -- "
"What wouldst thou do, good
Aztotl?"
"Surround the Sun Children with
their loyal body-guard and defend them, while one brave might strike
blow, or hold shield in front of their sacred charge," slowly
yet fiercely declared the captain, eyes telling how dearly he longed
to receive that permission.
But Victo shook her head in slow
negation. She was still cool of brain enough to realise how fatal
such course would be in the end. If one deadly blow should be dealt,
the end could be but one, -- annihilation to both defended and
defenders.
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Then, too, she recalled the wondrous
tidings brought the evening before by Ixtli and his comrade. Friends
were seeking to rescue them, and if only time might be won -- it must
be played for, then!
And so, his petition finally denied,
with no other course left open to take, the Red Heron summoned his
picked band and, with the Sun Children in their midst, left the
temple, crossed the plain, and slowly marched into the War God's
teocalli.
In awed silence a vast number of
Aztecs followed that little procession, silent as they, yet clearly
anticipating events of far more than ordinary importance. And thus
the foredoomed women were taken before the great stone of sacrifice,
whereupon lay a snow-white lamb, bound past the possibility of
struggling.
Close beside the prepared sacrifice
stood the head priest, Tlacopa, robed for the awesome ceremony,
sacrificial knife in hand, temples crowned as customs dictated, eyes
blazing as vividly as they might if backed by living fire.
Not far distant stood Huatzin, head
bandaged and face none the better looking for his floundering fall
when his sash gave way the evening before. And as he caught the
passing gaze of the woman whom he had so basely persecuted, a
repulsive smile showed itself, the grin of a veritable fiend in human
guise.
-290-
Sternly cold, and outwardly unmoved,
the captain of guards performed his sworn duty, then in grim silence
awaited the end. And in like manner each man of that carefully
selected band rested upon his arms.
A brief pause, during which the
utter silence grew actually oppressive, then the head priest lifted a
hand as though commanding full attention before he should speak.
Then, in tones which were by no
means loud, yet which were modulated so as to fill that expanse most
perfectly, Tlacopa recited the grave accusations brought against the
false children of the mighty Sun God.
To their evil influence he
attributed the comparative failure of crops which had now cursed
their fair people throughout the past years. Unto them, he claimed,
belonged the evil credit of many untimely deaths which had covered so
many proud heads with the ashes of mourning and of despair. To their
door might be traced all of misfortune with which the favourite
children of the mighty gods had been so sorely afflicted.
In proud silence Victo listened to
this deliberate arraignment, not deigning to interpose denial, or
offer plea in self-defence, until the paba was clearly at an
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end. And even then she gazed upon Tlacopa with eyes of scorn,
and lips which curled with contempt.
A low murmur from the eager crowd
told how anxious they were to hear more, and, taking her cue from
that, Victo made a graceful motion with her white hand, following it
by words that sounded rarely sweet in their deep mellowness, after
the harsh, dry notes of the paba.
"Who dares to bring such base
charges against the Daughters of Quetzal'? Who are our accusers, head
priest?"
Did Tlacopa shrink from that queenly
presence? If so, 'twas but another cunning device intended to pave
the way to complete success; to catch the fickle fancy of his
audience by rendering his retort all the more effective.
"Who dares accuse us of
wrong-doing?" again demanded the Amazonian mother, speaking for
her child as well, around whose waist her left arm was clinging as a
needed support.
"The Mother of all the gods!"
forcibly replied the priest, now casting aside all presence of
timidity, and gazing into that proud face with eyes which were filled
with fire of hatred and jealousy. "The all-powerful Centeotl
hath made known the awful truth through the lips of the infallible
oracle, my children!
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She hath declared that no smiles shall be turned towards the
children of Anahuac so long as false prophets disgrace this great
city! She hath demanded the sacrifice -- "
"Who can bear witness to any
such demand?" sternly interposed the captain of the body-guard,
unable to listen longer in silence.
Tlacopa flashed an evil look his
way, but from the audience issued another murmur, rising louder until
it took upon itself the shape of words, demanding indubitable proof
that the oracle had indeed spoken thus. And, no longer daring to rely
upon his own authority, Tlacopa turned to the sacrificial stone
whereupon lay the helpless lamb, bowing knee and lifting face as he
volubly repeated the customary invocation; just then it appeared far
more nearly an incantation.
Having thus complied with all the
requirements of his office, the paba first kissed his blade of
sacrifice, then seized the lamb and turned it upon its back, one hand
holding it helpless while with the other he ripped the poor beast
wide from throat to tail, then, making a swift cross-slash, laid bare
the cavity and exposed the quivering heart.
Dropping his knife, Tlacopa grasped
this vital organ, fiercely tearing it away, drawing back where
-293-
all might see as be lifted the heart on high for inspection.
One brief look appeared to satisfy
his needs, for he gave a fierce shout as he hurled the bleeding heart
towards the accused, then cried:
"An omen! An omen! The Mother
of the Gods claims her victims!"
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Chapter 29
CHAPTER XXIX.
BENEATH THE
SACRIFICIAL STONE.
CONTRARY to the expectations of
Ixtli escape by way of the War God's temple was barred throughout the
remainder of that eventful night. Tlacopa, the head priest, together
with a number of his acolytes, varying as to force, yet ever too
powerful for any two men to force a passage contrary to the will of
their leader, remained on duty each and every hour. And hence it came
to pass that those early hours found our fugitives still beneath the
temple, worn through loss of sleep and stress of anxiety, yet firmly
resolved not to permit that intended outrage without at least
striking one fair blow for the Children of the Sun.
Slowly enough the time passed, yet it could hardly be called monotonous. Whenever wearied of their darksome waiting, the young men would steal again into the hollow image of Huitzil', there to utilise the cunningly arranged peepholes, now looking out upon the priests, or listening to catch such words as fell
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from the lips of those nearest the stone of sacrifice.
In this manner Ixtli contrived to
pick up quite a little fund of information, mainly through the
confidences reposed in a certain favoured few of the brotherhood by
the chief paba. And this, in turn, filtered through his lips after
the chums once again retreated to the lower regions for both safety
and comfort.
And then Bruno learned how the
adventurous young Aztec, far less superstitious than the vast
majority of his people, thanks to the kindly teaching of Victo, Child
of Quetzal', had in his explorations discovered so many secrets of
the temple and priesthood, secrets which he now had no scruple in
communicating to another of a different race.
Ixtli told how, on various
occasions, he had lurked behind the scenes while the miraculous
"oracle" was delivering fiat or prophecy, and then he told
his white brother how Tlacopa meant to completely confound the
Children of the Sun when once brought before the gods.
"He tell slave what say. Slave
come dis way. Hide in War God. Wait for time, den tell Tlacopa's
words!"
A most infernal scheme, yet the
danger of which Bruno could readily recognise, together with the
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serious difficulty of refuting any such supernatural evidence.
"Surely your people will not
suffer a few dirty curs to do such horrible wrong to ladies like --
Why, Ixtli, even the gods you fellows bow the knee to in worship,
ought to rise up in their defence!"
But Ixtli merely sighed, then spoke
in sad tones, explaining how he alone had been taken wholly into the
confidence of the Sun Children. Even the captain of their guards knew
Victo and Glady as but descendants of the great Fair God whom the
audacious trickery of a rival sent far away from the land of his
favoured people, to find an abiding-place in the sun itself.
"He good brave. He die for dem,
-- easy! But he not know all. He think drop from sun, to lead people
back to light. If think not so, dat make face turn black; dat make
mad come -- great big!"
As was ever the case when his
feeling seemed deeply stirred, Ixtli found it difficult to fully or
fairly explain his sentiments; but Bruno caught sufficient of his
meaning to give a fair guess at the rest.
He found a ray of hope in the belief
that Aztotl at least would defend the Children of the Sun, and Ixtli
predicted with apparent confidence that the
-297-
members of the body-guard would stand firm under the Red
Heron's leadership.
Keeping thus upon the alert
throughout the remainder of that night, the young men were able to
take prompt action when the crisis drew nigh.
Ixtli caught the first inkling of
what was coming, and hastily sent Bruno away from the peepholes,
dropping a word in his ear as they both prepared for clean work.
Through a secret entrance, shaped
amidst the drapery which surrounded the pedestal of the mighty
Huitzil', a slave of the temple crept to play the part of echo to
Tlacopa's evil will; and scarcely had he secured what was to be a
place of waiting and watching than the attack was made from out the
darkness.
Ixtli flung his tunic over the
slave's head, twisting both ends tightly about his throat,
effectually smothering all attempt at crying aloud for aid, while
Bruno clasped arms about his middle, holding hands powerless to
strike or to draw weapon.
A brief struggle, which produced
scarcely any noise, certainly not sufficient to reach the ears of
priest or helper, then the trembling, unnerved slave was bundled down
that narrow passage, to be dumped in a remote corner, and there
effectually bound and gagged by the young men.
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All this was performed without hitch
or mishap, and then, nerved to fighting pitch, Ixtli and Bruno went
back beneath the stone of sacrifice, resolved to play their part to
the end in manful fashion.
There was no further fear of
intrusion, for, of course, Tlacopa would never think of endangering
his own evil scheme by risking an exposure such as would follow
discovery of his slave-oracle. As Ixtli truly said, such discovery
would end in the paba's being slain by his befooled people.
Their patience was sorely tried,
even then, though a goodly portion of the blame belonged to their
fears for the Sun Children, rather than to the actual length of
waiting. But then, amidst the solemn invocations led by the high
priest, the body-guard marched into the Hall of Sacrifice, and Bruno
caught his breath sharply as he beheld -- Gladys! Not her mother,
just then. For the first minute, only, -- Gladys!
Then came the bitter denunciation by
Tlacopa, followed by the coldly dignified words of Victo, after which
the innocent lamb yielded up its life in order that the future might
be predicted through the still quivering heart.
With a fiercely exultant cry Tlacopa
hurled the vital organ towards the accused, it striking the
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mother upon an arm, then glancing further to leave an ugly
smear upon the daughter's shoulder ere falling among the eager
multitude, who fought and struggled to secure at least a morsel of
the hideous thing.
"Behold! the gods hath marked
their own!" cried the high priest, his harsh tones fairly
filling the Hall of Sacrifice. "They are guilty of all crimes
laid at their door. They merit death, a thousandfold. The Mother of
Gods hath spoken!"
"To whom but thou, Tlacopa?"
sternly cried the captain of the guards, as he stood firm in spite of
the ominous sounds which were rising from the rear, as well as from
either side.
"She hath spoken unto me, as
her worthy representative on earth."
"And there are those who say
much religion hath turned thy brain, good Tlacopa," retorted
Aztotl, holding his temper fairly well under control, yet with
blazing eyes and stiffening sinews. "Are thy ears alone to
receive such important communications as -- "
"Silence, thou scoffer!"
fiercely cried the high priest, lifting quivering hands on high as
though about to call down the thunders of an outraged deity upon that
impious head. "She who hath spoken
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once may deign to speak again. Harken, -- hear the oracle!"
Doubtless this was cue for the slave
of the temple to repeat the words placed within its mouth, but that
slave was literally unable to speak a word for himself, let alone
others. Yet, -- the oracle was not wholly silenced!
"Talk out, or I will!"
fiercely muttered Bruno, giving Ixtli a violent punch in the side.
"talk out for the Sun Children!"
The young Aztec needed no further
prompting, loving Victo and Glady as he did, hating and despising the
high priest. And in shrill, clear tones came the wondrous oracle:
"Tlacopa lies! Tlacopa is an
evil dog! The Mother of the Gods loves and will defend her friends,
the Children of the great and good Quetzal'."
How much more Ixtli might have said,
had he been granted further grace, will never be known. Tlacopa
shrank away from the speaking statue as from a living death, but then
he rallied, savagely thundering:
" 'Tis a lying oracle! 'Tis an
evil impostor who has -- An omen! A true omen, my children! The evil
ones hath been branded for the knife! Seize them! To the sacrifice!"
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"TLACOPA SHRANK AWAY FROM THE SPEAKING STATUE."
-303-
That vicious cry was swiftly taken
up, but the body-guard closed in around the menaced women, presenting
arms to all that maddened horde, while their captain sternly warned
all good people to fall aside and make way for the Children of the
Sun.
Then that secret entrance was flung
wide, permitting two excited young men to issue, Tlacopa reeling
aside from a blow dealt him by Bruno's clenched fist, as that worthy
hastened to join forces with the body-guard.
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Chapter 30
CHAPTER XXX.
AGAINST OVERWHELMING
ODDS.
THIS double appearance -- for Ixtli
kept fair pace with his hot-headed white brother -- caused no little
stir, and added considerable to the partial bewilderment which had
fallen over that audience.
Prince Hua shouted forth savage threats, but he, as well as the paba, was fairly demoralised for the moment by the totally unexpected failure of their carefully laid schemes.
Seeing his chance, Aztotl bade his men escort the Sun Children from the Hall of Sacrifice back to their own abiding-place, barely noticing his son, and paying no heed at all to the disguised paleface.
With spears ready for stroke or parry as occasion might demand, the guard faced about and slowly moved away from the great stone of sacrifice, rigid of face, cool of nerve, ready to die if must be, yet never once thinking of disobedience to orders, or of playing cur to save life.
Almost involuntarily the crowd parted before that
-305-
measured advance, giving way until a fair pathway lay open,
along which the body-guard moved with neither haste nor hesitation,
outwardly ignorant of the fact that ugly cries and dangerous gestures
were coming thicker and faster their way.
Scores of other voices caught up the
fierce cry given by the head priest, and now the temple was ringing
throughout with demands that the false Sun Children should pay full
penalty, should be haled to the sacrificial stone, there to purge
themselves without further delay!
Others showed an inclination to
favour the descendants of Quetzal', and thus the widely conflicting
shouts and cries formed a medley which was fairly deafening.
For one of his fierce temper the Red
Heron showed a marvellous coolness throughout that perilous retreat,
and never more than during the first few seconds. Then a single
injudicious word or too hasty movement might easily have precipitated
a fight, where the vast audience would surely have brought disaster,
whether the majority so willed or not.
Holding his men well in hand, moving
only as rapidly as prudence justified, yet losing neither time nor
ground, where both were of such vital importance; Aztotl forced a
passage from the great Hall of Sacrifice
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down to the level, then out into the open air, where one could
see and fight if needs be.
Through all this, Bruno Gillespie
held the position he had taken, one hand gripping tightly his
maquahuitl, but placing his main dependence upon the revolver
which nestled conveniently within the folds of his sash, one nervous
forefinger touching the curved trigger.
He could not help seeing that the
danger was great. He felt certain that they could not retreat much
farther without coming to blows, when the odds would be
overwhelmingly against them. Yet never for an instant did he regret
having taken such a decided step; not for one moment did he give
thought to himself.
Almost within reach of his hand, if
extended at the length of his arm, moved the fair maiden whose face
and form had made so deep an impression upon his mind and his heart.
She was in peril. She needed aid. That was enough!
Then the briefly stunned Tlacopa
rushed forth from his desecrated temple, wildly flourishing his arms,
furiously denouncing both the Sun Children and their body-guard,
thundering forth the curses of all the gods upon the heads of those
who refrained from arresting the evil ones.
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"The mighty Mother of Gods
calls for her own! Seize them! Strike down the impious dogs who dare
attempt to defraud our Mother! Seize them! To the sacrifice -- to the
sacrifice!"
Equally loud of voice, the Prince
Hua came leaping down to the sandy level, urging his people to the
assault, offering almost fabulous sums as reward for the brave Aztec
whose arm should lay yonder traitorous Red Heron prone in the dust.
The crisis came, and the dogs of war
were let loose.
An arrow whizzed narrowly past the
feathered helmet worn by the captain of the guards. A stone came
humming out of sling, to be deftly dashed aside by Aztotl's shield
ere it could fairly smite that gold-crowned head as, outwardly calm
and composed, Victo aided her trembling daughter on towards the
Temple of the Sun God, where alone they might look for safety.
But would it be found even there?
No! For, at savage howl from lips of
the high priest, a strong force of armed redskins took up position at
the teocalli, blocking each one of the four flights of stone steps in
order to intercept the body-guard, while still closer pressed the
yelling, screeching, frantic heathen of both sexes and all ages.
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Aztotl saw how he had been flanked,
but made no sign, even while slightly turning course for another
temple at less distance, a single word being sufficient to post his
true-hearts.
So far not a single blow had been
struck by the retreating party, although great provocation had been
given them. More than one of their number was bleeding, yet all were
afoot, and still capable of holding ranks. Then --
Bravest of the brave, a man among
men in spite of his tender years, Ixtli laid down his life in defence
of his idolised Victo.
From one of that maddened rabble
came a heavy stone, flung with all the power of a sinewy arm and
great sling. Smitten fairly between the eyes, the poor lad's skull
was crushed, as a giant hand might mash an eggshell.
One gasping sigh, then the lad sunk
to earth, dead ere he could fairly measure his length thereupon.
For a single instant Aztotl seemed
as one stupefied, but then an awful uproar burst from his labouring
lungs, and he hurled his heavy javelin full at yonder murderer,
winging it with a father's curses.
Swift flew the dart, but fully as
quickly sank that varlet, the head of the spear scraping his skull,
to
-309-
pass on and smite with death one even more evil, if that might
be.
Full in the throat Tlacopa was
stricken, the broad blade of copper tearing a passage through, and
the shaft following after for the greater portion of its length.
Unable to scream, though his visage was hideously distorted by
mingled fear and agony, the high priest caught the wood in both
hands, even as he reeled to partly turn, then fall upon his face,
dead, -- thrice dead!
With a wild thrill of grief and
horror, Bruno Gillespie saw his red brother reel in cruel death, and,
for the moment heedless of his own peril, which surely was doubled
thereby, he sprang that way, to stoop and catch that quivering shape
in his eager hands.
Too late, save to show his
comradeship. That heavy stone had only too surely performed its grim
mission. Dead! Poor lad: dead, while seeking to save another!
With a fierce cry of angry mourning,
Bruno lifted the mutilated corpse in his arms, trying to toss it over
a shoulder, to bear away from risk of trampling under the heedless
feet of the yelling heathen; but it was not to be. Another stone
smote his arm near the elbow, breaking no bone, yet so benumbing the
-310-
member as to temporarily disable it, causing that precious
burden to drop to earth once more.
Then came an awful outcry from the
people, whom the sight of their high-priest reeling in death had, for
a few fleeting seconds, fairly stupefied. Cries which meant much to
the living, and before which even that band of true-hearts receded
with slightly quickened pace.
With the others fell back Bruno,
leaving his hand-wood lying beside the lifeless corpse of his
redskinned brother-at-heart, but drawing forth the weapon which he
knew so much better how to use.
The fierce lust of vengeance now
seized upon him, heart and brain. He shouted forth grim defiance to
that howling crew, and as the deadly missiles came in thickening
clouds, carrying death and wounds to the body-guard of the Sun
Children, he opened fire, shooting to kill.
Entirely without firearms
themselves, and in all probability ignorant of such an instrument of
destruction, this might have produced a far more beneficial result
under other circumstances. As it was now, few, if any, took heed of
what they could not hear above that awful tumult, and those who felt
the boring lead never rose up to give their testimony.
Closer crowded the
superstition-ridden heathen,
-311-
showering missiles of all descriptions upon the body-guard,
confounding all with the one to whose javelin their head priest owed
his death, -- only to recoil once more, in fierce awe, as another
victim of high rank paid forfeit his life for the death of Ixtli,
sole offspring of Aztotl, the Red Heron.
-312-
Chapter 31
CHAPTER XXXI.
DEFENDING THE SUN
CHILDREN.
LOUDER than ever rose the voice of
Lord Hua, after witnessing the fall of his ally, the high priest. In
spite of the great odds against the body-guards, he began to fear
lest his intended prey should even yet slip through his evil
clutches.
Fiercer than ever rang forth his curses and imprecations upon the head of the Aztec who thus dared the vengeance of all the gods by lifting hand in arms against the anointed.
And then, his own nerve strung by those very efforts to inspire others, Lord Hua forged nearer the front, eager to behold all his hated enemies crushed to earth as by a single stroke. And then --
With vicious force he hurled his javelin straight for the white throat of the Sun Child who had scorned his fawning advances, and only the ever ready eye, the true hand, the strong arm of Aztotl again warded off grim death from the Fair God's Child.
-313-
Caught upon that trusty shield one
instant, the next turned towards its original owner, to quiver for
the barest fraction of time in that vengeful grip, then, gloriously
true to the hero's will and intent, sped that javelin home.
Home to the false heart of false
prince; grinding through skin and flesh and bones, cleaving that hot
organ with broad blade of tempered copper, forcing one vicious
screech from those tortured lungs, then causing that bulk to measure
its length upon the blood-sprinkled sands.
Once again the heathen involuntarily
recoiled, as death claimed a high victim. Once more the band of
true-hearts slightly quickened their pace towards the temple, now
nigh at hand. Yet those lessened numbers never once betrayed fear, or
doubt, or faltering. Grimly true to their trust, they fell back in
the best of order, fighting as they moved, beating back the heathen
hosts, as though each man was a god, and their strong arms a wall of
steel.
Here and there a true-heart sank to
earth with the hand of death veiling his eyes, but he died in
silence; no cry of fear, no moan of pain, no pitiful appeal for mercy
at the hands of his maddened people. They knew their sworn duty, and
like true hearts they trod that narrow path unto the very end.
-314-
Although with gradually lessening
numbers, the body-guard remained practically the same. Still in a
hollow square, with the Children of the Sun God in the centre, they
slowly, doggedly fell back, ever facing the ravening foe, ever moving
shoulder to shoulder as a single man.
Then, just as Bruno Gillespie was
refilling his emptied revolver, the base of the tall pyramidal temple
was won, and still protecting their fair-haired charge, the
body-guard ascended to the second terrace, beating back such of the
wild rabble as pressed them too closely.
Again that wonderful barking-death
came into play, and Bruno felt a strangely savage joy gnawing at his
heart as he saw more than one stalwart warrior reel dizzily back from
his hot hail.
"For Ixtli, you curs! That for
Ixtli! Down, -- and eat dirt, dogs!"
Scarcely could his own ears catch
those sounds, although he shouted with the full power of his strong
young lungs, so indescribably horrid was the din and tumult.
Up another flight of steps, then yet
another, although the crazed rabble was not pressing them so very
hard, just now. Still, their number forbade a fourfold division as
yet, and Aztotl feared lest the
-315-
blood-ravening mob attempt to head off their flight by taking
possession of the other stairs, thus being first to occupy yonder
flat arena high above the earth, whereupon he hoped to still protect
the Sun Children, even though he must lay down his life to maintain
their lease.
Lacking an acknowledged leader, the
furious mass thought only of crushing the faithful band by mere
weight of numbers, taking no thought in advance, else the end might
well have been precipitated.
Arrows, spears, javelins, stones
from slings, poured upon the body-guard in almost countless numbers,
now and then claiming a true-heart as victim, whereupon the rabble
howled afresh in drunken triumph; but where a single man died in the
performance of his oath-bound duty, half a score heathen bit the dust
and grovelled out his remnant of life yonder where most viciously
trampled the feet of his fellow brutes.
Pausing barely long enough to beat
back the crazed rush which came so close upon their retreat, the band
of brothers would then slowly, doggedly fall back another of those
mighty steps, with bared teeth and blazing eyes, longing to end all
by one joyous plunge into the thick of their assailants, dying with
their chosen dead!
-316-
Five separate times that upward
flight, and five times the grim pause to give death another portion
of his red feast. Five times the blood-lapping mob dashed against the
band of brothers. Five times they were hurled back, leaving more dead
and dying there to mark the savage struggle.
And then, sadly decimated at each
halt, less in numbers as they passed farther from earth to climb
nearer the blue sky, the survivors won the crest of the teocalli,
still fighting, still beating back such as followed their steps more
closely.
Ere that brilliant retreat began,
'twould have taken close ranks for the body-guard to find
standing-room upon the temple-top; but now -- Aztotl called for a
division of his force, since there were four separate avenues of
approach, of which the enemy was prompt to avail itself.
"For the Sun Children, my
brothers!" he cried, his voice rising even above that awful
tumult and turmoil. "Guard them with your lives!"
Little need to waste breath in so
adjuring. Of all thus enlisted, not one of the true-hearts but proved
worthy the trust. Not one brave who took care for his own life. Not
one but was ready to die in order to save; and thus far not a single
wound had won so far as either Child of the Fair God.
-317-
Even now while the heathen were
raging more viciously than ever, crowding each terrace and jamming
each flight of steps to the verge of suffocation, strong arms were
shielding them, true hearts were thinking how best they might be
served.
Time and again Aztotl warded away
winged death as it sought to claim Victo for its prey. And Bruno
Gillespie, no whit less brave if somewhat lacking in warlike
experience, made Gladys his especial care, sending shot or dealing
knife-thrust in her defence, barely giving thought to his own safety
as a side issue.
Those broad terraces bore ugly pools
and irregular patches of red blood. The various flights of stone
steps grew slippery and uncertain as they likewise began to steam.
Yet forward and upward pressed the howling mob, and desperately
fought the doomed body-guard above.
Faster fly the deadly missiles, too
many by far for even the keenest eye to guard against them all. One
and another of those gallant defenders drop away; only because death
had claimed them, not because of fear or of bodily anguish.
Aztotl staggers, -- an arrow is
quivering in his broad bosom, -- but still he fights on, dealing
death with each blow of his blood-dripping hand-wood. A
-318-
stone lays open his brow, -- but heavier and faster plays his
terrible weapon. A javelin flashes briefly, then the red copper
vanishes from sight, while the ashen shaft slowly dyes crimson, as
the hot life-blood issues.
A last, dying stroke, and the Red
Heron sinks at the feet of his adoration, faithful unto the last, his
brave soul going forth to join with that of Ixtli; the last of a
gallant family.
Victo gives a wild cry of vengeance,
then snatches up bow and quiver where let fall by a death-smitten
warrior, and wings swift death to the slayer of her captain of the
guard.
An awful melee, where the odds were
momentarily increasing; where one man was forced to do the work of a
score; where death inevitable awaited all, unless a miracle should
intervene. And that miracle --
Shrilly rang forth the voice of
Victoria Edgecombe as, amidst the fury of battle, she caught sight of
the air-ship swiftly darting that way through the clear atmosphere,
bent on saving, if saving might be.
The peculiar sound which attended
the exploding of a dynamite cartridge heralded the death of more than
one Aztec, and, as the swift rattle of revolvers added to the uproar,
there was an involuntary recoiling,
-319-
a terrified shrinking, which was employed to the best
advantage by the air-voyagers.
The aerostat barely landed upon the
top of the temple, before Cooper Edgecombe, with a wild scream of
ecstatic joy, caught his wife in his arms and hurried her into the
car, while Waldo and uncle Phaeton aided Bruno.
-320-
Chapter 32
CHAPTER XXXII.
ADIEU TO THE LOST
CITY.
AND Bruno clung fast to the
half-swooning maiden, so that two in place of one had to be assisted
by uncle and nephew!
Barely a score of seconds thus employed, then the gallant air-ship responded to the touch of master-hand, and floated away from the bloody temple-top with its increased burden, even as the last survivor of the Sun Children's body-guard sank down in death.
A brief stupor came over the amazed heathen at sight of this awful air-devil from whose sides spat forth invisible death; but then, as they divined at least a portion of the truth, as they saw their longed-for victims thus borne bodily away, a revulsion came, and, amid the most hideous howls and screeches, missiles flew towards the air-ship, menacing sudden death to all therein.
But fate would not have it thus, and, under the guidance of that master-hand, the aeromotor flew
-321-
higher and farther, quickly leaving behind all peril from
javelins, darts, arrows, or stones from slings. And but one of their
number had suffered aught: Bruno lay as one dead, blood flowing from
a stone-gash over an eye, but with one hand still gripping the butt
of an empty pistol; his other arm was -- around the Sun Daughter's
waist!
And Gladys? First she shrunk back
with a gasping cry of mingled fear and grief; only to quickly recover
and -- did she kiss that curiously spotted, streaked face?
Waldo afterwards declared she
certainly did, for that a moment later he saw some of that moistened
stain upon her quivering lips; but Waldo was ever extravagantly fond
of a jest, and it may be -- never mind!
Not until the air-ship was safely
past peril from yonder howling, raving lunatics in bronze did
Professor Featherwit give heed to aught else, and by that time
Victoria had left the ardent embrace of her husband, to care for the
elder Gillespie, whose single-hearted devotion all through that
bloody retreat and bloodier struggle upon the temple had not wholly
escaped her notice.
Under such tender ministrations,
Bruno quickly revived, and, after assuring himself that the Children
-322-
of the Sun were alive and unharmed, while the Lost City was
now left far behind them, he huskily begged uncle Phaeton to descend
to earth, where he might find water enough to remove what remained of
that loathsome disguise!
But Professor Featherwit was far too
shrewd a general to take any unnecessary risks. His last glimpse of
yonder valley showed him hundreds of armed redskins rushing at top
speed for the various passes by which that circle of hills could be
over-passed, and he knew that chase would be made as long as the
faintest ray of hope lured the Aztecs on.
Thus it came that no halt was made
until the inland reservoir was reached, where there could be no
possible danger in making a temporary landing. And then Bruno stole
away in hot haste, both to wash his person and to reclothe it in
garments not quite so ridiculous as he now felt that savage rig must
appear.
"Just as though the little
woman wasn't used to see fit-outs like that, old man," mocked
Waldo, the irrepressible. "She'll go scare at you in this rig;
see if she doesn't, now!"
Whether or no Gladys was actually
frightened as Bruno made his appearance, need not be decided
-323-
here; but one fact remains: she acted a vast dead shyer than
when she saw her gallant defender lying as if dead, with the red
blood flowing over his face.
Naturally enough, Cooper Edgecombe
seemed fairly crazed by his joy. After so many long years of hopeless
grief and wistful longing, to find his loved ones, safe and sound,
far more beautiful than of yore! Surely enough to turn the gravest of
men into a laughing, jesting, voluble lad!
But throughout it all ran a vein of
sadness and of mourning. Neither Aztotl the noble, nor Ixtli the
gallant, could so soon be forgotten. And more than one pair of eyes
grew dim, more than one voice turned husky, as mention was made of
both life and death, -- peace to their ashes!
Heavily burdened as the air-ship now
was, it would be unwise to add more, and so but a few minor articles
were removed from the cavern, which had for so long sheltered the
exiled aeronaut, then the lever was touched, and the vessel rose
slowly into air, making one leisurely circuit of the lake, in order
to show the Children of the Sun where their husband and father came
so perilously nigh to entering upon a subterranean voyage to the
far-away Pacific.
-324-
And, luckily as it appeared, they were just in time to see
that "big suck" drag another huge tree down into its ever
hungry maw.
Not until the shades of night again
began to settle over the earth did the professor permit another halt,
but then many miles lay between that Lost City of the Aztecs and
their present position, and, after selecting a pleasant spot for
alighting, preparations for their first al-fresco meal in company
were begun.
That proved to be a pleasant meal,
and yet a more pleasant evening there in the wilderness, -- the
first, but by no means the last, partaken of, -- for, now they need
no longer fear the heathen, Professor Featherwit was eager to more
thoroughly explore that strange land.
Still, the air-ship was
inconveniently crowded, and that helped to cut explorations short.
Then, too, Cooper Edgecombe was naturally eager to return to
civilisation once more, especially as he now had his heart's dearest
desire, wife and daughter, each peerless in her peculiar way.
Thus it came to pass that the terra
incognita was abandoned for the time being, Professor Featherwit
striking that wide path of ruin which marked the course of the
tornado, then sailing leisurely towards the point of their initial
departure, improving the opportunity
-325-
by giving a neat little lecture concerning tornadoes in
general, and that one in particular.
"Which totally exploded so many
absurd theories held up to date," was his proud assertion; and
then he went on to explain just how, and why, and wherefore --
Why dwell longer? The tale I set out
to narrate is finished. The unknown land has been penetrated, and at
least a portion of its marvels has been inspected; imperfectly, no
doubt, but that may be attributed to circumstances which were past
control.
And should the still curious reader
ask, "Is it all true? Is there actually such a place as the Lost
City? And are the people who live in that town really and truly the
same race as once inhabited Old Mexico?" -- to all such, I can
hardly do better than this: there was a Territory of Washington.
There is now a State of Washington. Within that State may be found a
range, or system of mountains, known to the world as the Olympics.
And within the wide scope of country which lies nestling inside of
that mountain system may to this day be found --
But, after all, a little parable
which Waldo Gillespie read to a certain doubting Thomas, on the very
-326-
evening of the day which changed Gladys Edgecombe, spinster,
into Mrs. Bruno Gillespie, may better serve in this connection.
"After all, I don't believe
there is any such place or people," declared Doubting Thomas,
nodding his head vigorously.
"Is that so?" mildly
queried our good friend, Waldo. "Let me give you a little
pointer, old man. Once upon a time, a man by the name of John Smith
was being tried for stealing a fat hog. The State brought three
reputable witnesses to swear that they actually saw the theft
committed, while the best the defence could offer was to declare that
they could produce at least a dozen honest citizens who would make
oath to the fact that they did not witness the crime. So -- moral:
"We six fairly honest people
saw both the Lost City and its inhabitants. Scores of equally
reliable persons never saw either. Which sort of evidence weighs the
most, my good fellow?"
Gentlemen of the jury, the verdict
rests with you!
THE END.
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