Finally, the ridges and indentations of a chain of hills loomed up.
Having climbed up to a summit, Guthrie called out enthusiastically. Lost between three millennial solitudes—the forest, the savannah and the desert—a lake extended its inexhaustible waves.
The forest, filling the Orient with its arboreal nations, was separated from the savannah by red rocks and dead sands, where even lichens perished. After a scrubland, the savannah took possession of the Occident.
By virtue of that conjunction of territories, the lake entertained on its shores all the strange beasts of the desert, the sly predators of the grassland, and the countless guests of the branches: the ostrich and the giraffe, the baroque warthog and the monstrous rhinoceros, the hippopotamus and the wild pig, the lion, the leopard and the panther, the jackal, the hyena and the wolf, the antelope, the zebra, the dromedary and the quagga, the gorilla, the hamadryas baboon, the hooded guenon, the elephant and the buffalo, the python and the crocodile, eagles and vultures, storks, ibises, cranes, flamingos, egrets and kingfishers…
“An admirable wilderness, created for all the animals in the Ark,” said Guthrie. “For how many thousands of years has this lake bore witness to its immense life, which humans will have destroyed or domesticated before the end of the 20th century?”
“Do you think they’ll destroy it?” Farnham queried. “If God wills it—but my own opinion is that He won’t. Why? For 300 years, has He not visibly protected civilization? Especially Anglo-Saxon civilization. Is it not written: ‘Replenish the Earth, and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the Earth’?30
“But what is not written is ‘Destroy!’ Now, we have destroyed terribly, Sydney, without mercy and without discernment. The work of God seems to be in the fragile hands of humankind. We have, it seems, merely to make a gesture. We are making that gesture. It will lead us to our ruin…while free creation will flourish again. I can’t believe, you see, that everything has been preserved for such a long time, to the marsupials and Ornithorhychus of Australia, to perish under human hands. I can distinctly see the abyss that is about to open; I can see the nations dissolving once again into peoples, peoples into tribes, tribes into clans…in truth, Sydney, civilization will die, and the savage life will be reborn!”
Guthrie burst into loud laughter. “I predict,” he said, “that the factories of Europe and America will belch smoke over all the savannahs and consume all the forests! Nevertheless, if things turn out differently, I won’t be one of those bursting into tears. I’ll accept the revenge of the Beasts!”
“I shall accept it,” Farnham replied, mystically, “because it will be the will of the Lord.”
A herd of savagely graceful quaggas and baroque gnus raced over a promontory, while three ostriches advanced on to a sterile beach, by virtue of the need for open space that is the intelligence of their instinct. Buffaloes also emerged, along with baboons hidden in the bushes, and an old rhinoceros covered with its elaborately folded armor, heavy, indolent and formidable in the total security of a strength that intimidates lions and braves elephants. Then, fearful and swift, their long necks and delicately-horned heads looming over all the other animals, several giraffes came running.
“An enigma!” muttered Sir George. “Why these strange forms? Why the hideousness of that rhinoceros, and the absurd heads of those ostriches?”
“They’re all handsome by comparison with that one!” said Guthrie, pointing to a shapeless hippopotamus. “What can the significance be of those monstrous jaws, those hideous eyes, that body of a giant pig?”
“Be sure that all this makes marvelous sense, Sydney…”
“I’d like it to,” said the colossus, insouciantly. “Where are we going to set up camp?”
As they examined the locale, they were hypnotized by a spectacle. Colossi had just emerged from the edge of the forest. They were marching, grave, redoubtable and peaceful. Their legs were like tree-trunks, their bodies like rocks and their hides like mobile bark. Their trunks extended like pythons and their tusks formed vast curved pikes. The Earth trembled. The buffaloes, warthogs, antelopes and quaggas moved out of the way of the monstrous herd. Two black lions retreated into the trees; the giraffes raised their heads anxiously.
“Don’t you think that elephants are reminiscent of giant insects?” Guthrie said.
“That’s certainly true,” Sir George retorted. “I liken them to dung-beetles, galofas, and even more so to Cyclommata.31 There must be females weighing 10,000 pounds there, Sydney! It’s a glorious spectacle.”
The immense herd went into the lake. Water spurted; vibrant trumpeting shook the expanse, while mothers watched over elephant calves as big as onagers and as playful as puppies.
“If it weren’t for humans,” said Farnham, meditatively, “there would be no other creature as powerful in the world…and that power wouldn’t be malevolent…”
“Not everyone concedes that! Look over there, at the solitary rhinoceros on his promontory. He won’t retreat before the most formidable nobleman with a trunk. But let’s not forget about the camp.”
“Over there, near the forest but in the savannah, I can see a bare region between three rocks, neither too close to nor too far away from the lake,” said Sir George, extending his right arm, while his left maintained his binoculars level with his eyes. “It will be easy to build and maintain a fire there.”
Guthrie examined the location and found it satisfactory. “Nevertheless,” he replied, after a pause, “I’d like that other place, hollowed out in the brushwood in the form of a semicircle, just as much. If you like, one of us can explore that while the other goes to the three rocks.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to go together?”
“I think we can each ascertain enough details to let us decide. From here, the places seem equally good. If we find, in the final analysis, that all is well, we can play heads or tails. Let’s save time…”
“I’m not sure that we’ll save any, but we probably won’t lose any,” Farnham concluded. “All right—although I don’t like splitting up.”
“For less than an hour!”
“All right! Which one do you want?”
“I’ll take the three rocks.”
Although he marched rapidly, Guthrie, accompanied by Kouram and another man, took nearly half an hour to reach the edge of the forest. The place was more spacious than he had anticipated; he judged it comfortable. Two of the rocks were bare, with red walls; the third, which was much larger, had projections and crevices. Banyans were growing in a cleft, and there was a black hole that had to be the opening of a cave.
“Kouram,” said the colossus, “you examine the terrain from here to the pointed rock, and your comrade from here to the rounded rock. We’ll meet back here.”
“Be wary of the cave, Master!” Kouram remarked.
Guthrie replied with a whistle, and headed toward the indented rock.
It formed a surprising architectural assembly: a cracked tower, a pyramidal trunk, the sketches of obelisks, pointed and rounded arches, vague frontons, gothic spires—and everywhere, the indefatigable labor of lichens, pellitories and the weather…
The wild place might be made hospitable. The cave and the large crevices sketched out dwellings that a little handiwork might render invulnerable to predators, or make a fortress against humans.
This is where we ought to camp, Guthrie thought.
He recalled Kouram’s words: “Be wary of the cave.” Guthrie mixed variable doses of temerity and foresight. As reflective as Ironcastle himself, but with more impetuosity, he suddenly yielded to the traps, risks, hazards and excitements of an adventure—and then the release of his enormous energy prevented him from struggling against himself, and his sporting experience gave him an excessive confidence. At boxing, no amateur could resist him; he would have taken on Dempsey. He could carry a horse with its rider. He pounced like a jaguar…
The cave was even larger than he had imagined. Membranous wings stirred; a nocturnal bird opened its phosphorescent eyes in the gloom; crawling beasts were moving sinuously. He had to switch on his electric torch.
The American saw a swarm of subterranean creatures, which the light caused to flee into fissures. An irregular vault was carpeted by fruit-bats, several of which dropped away, frightened, with little squeaks, and started whirling around jerkily on their silent wings.
Tunnels appeared, ominously, and, at the back of the cave, two fissures let in an indecisive light.
The traveler went into one of these fissures, which rapidly became too narrow. Then, directed by the beam of his torch, Guthrie had a disturbing vision. At the end of the fissure, in the lateral wall, there were two holes with broken edges, one inclined to the right and the other to the left, allowing the sight of further caves. They had to open on the western side of the rock, which Guthrie had not yet seen; a confused light penetrated into them, through which the electric beam traced a violet cone.
In the cave to the right, three male lions and two females were standing up, frightened by that unusual light. Lion cubs were moving in the shadows. These families of wild beasts, strangely associated, had a grim poetry. The males were the equals of the extinct lions of the Atlas Mountains and the females made him think of blonde tigresses.
“Life is beautiful!” the colossus thought.
He started to laugh, excitedly. These redoubtable beasts were at his mercy. Two or three shots of the elephant-gun, and the savage kings would enter the eternal night. The ancient soul of the hunter asserted itself. Guthrie shouldered the butt of his weapon. Then a scruple, and also prudence, caused him to look away, and he shivered from head to toe.
A second cave had just appeared, with even more formidable inhabitants. In none of the vast American menageries had Sydney ever seen lions comparable to those that were getting to their feet in the gloom. They seemed to emerge from the depths of prehistory, giants similar to the lion-tiger and the Felis spelaea of the Chellean caves.
Living thunder echoed from the red granite. All the lions roared in unison. Guthrie listened to them, breathless with enthusiasm. Once again he raised his weapon—but he beat a retreat, shaking his head and yielding to inexpressible sentiments.
We shan’t camp here, he thought.
When he got back into the open air, he headed swiftly toward Kouram and the other man, who were walking toward the rocks, and signaled to them not to go any further. They waited for the giant, who hastened his pace, thinking that the lions might emerge from their lairs at any moment. Their roars died away. Animals with a mediocre sense of smell and a slothful intelligence, they were undoubtedly still hypnotized before the fissure from which the mysterious light had sprung forth.
A growl split the air. A lion had just surged forth, with a lioness.
They were not the immense predators of the second cave; even so, their size took Kouram by surprise. There was a nonchalance in their attitude. The moment had not come when these sovereigns of the fauna would deploy their terrible energy. More so than the tiger, the lion falls from grace outside the shadows. For love or war, it requires the pale stellar light, the crystalline blackness of night.
Even so, flanked by the lioness, the lion came forward slyly, almost creeping. Sydney checked his rifle and made sure that his Bowie knife was loose in its sheath. He had six bullets in his revolver…
A further roar pierced the air; a colossal lion emerged in its turn from the shadow of the rocks.
“Damn it!” Guthrie cursed. “We’re playing heads or tails with death.”
The first lion started running. In six bounds it crossed half the distance that separated it from the American—but the lion-colossus remained motionless, in a wild dream, still full of the shadows of the cave.
There was no further possibility of flight. Sydney faced the lion head-on, while Kouram and his companion raised their rifles. Three shots rang out. The bullet from the elephant-gun grazed the lion’s skull and exploded 200 feet away. The men’s bullets passed by harmlessly.
With three enormous bounds, the beast attacked. The blond head came down like a rock. It came down exactly where the man was, but the man had moved. Against the teeth and claws, there was the trenchant blade of the Bowie knife. The elephant-gun had spoken a second time, in vain, because the beast’s leap and his own movement had not permitted Guthrie to take aim. One of two lives was about to enter the eternal darkness.
The natives took aim again, but it was an impotent gesture, because Guthrie was between them and the beast and they did not trust their skill.
In order to scare the lion, Guthrie uttered a savage yell; the lion retorted with a growl. Then their momentum brought them together. The lion lunged, its claws splayed, its mouth wide open, from which granite fangs emerged—but the man had his own weapon. He braced himself and thrust with the Bowie knife, which buried itself entire in the animal’s breast and dug into its depths.
The beast did not fall. It lashed out with its claw, which cut into the American’s side; its enormous maw tried to seize his skull. Sydney realized that the Bowie knife had not reached the heart; he struck the lion on the nose with his left fist, and the muzzle recoiled. Then, withdrawing his weapon, the man struck again, by default, at the shoulder.
Panting hard, the upright colossus and the carnivorous colossus persisted. It was the beast that collapsed…
A shadow veiled Guthrie’s vision. With a supreme effort, his head having struck the rock, he fought to stay conscious. The lioness was no more than three bounds away, followed close behind by a black lion. Sydney was conscious of the danger and stiffened himself for a mortal struggle; before his muscles were able to react, the two beasts would tear him apart…
Meanwhile, Sir George had just appeared in the distance, and Philippe materialized simultaneously on the crest of the ridge. They both raised their rifles, both taking aim at the lioness. Scarcely had the shots rung out when the beast whirled around and collapsed, hit in the head. As she fell, she bumped into the black lion, interrupting its run; it stopped and sniffed the dying lioness. Further shots were already ringing out, and the black lion, in its turn, bade farewell to the forest, the savannah and the intoxicating nights.
The entire caravan had come running, the men howling with joy, and Guthrie forced himself to his feet. There was no more danger. In the distance the colossal lion had disappeared behind the rocks. A formless dread made the other wild beasts recoil.
“I wasn’t far from knowing what’s on the other side,” muttered Guthrie, slightly pale, but full of a joy that he did not try to hide, as he shook the hands of Sir George and Philippe. “There can’t be many riflemen of your caliber, even in the Cape!”
“No,” said Hareton, who had arrived with Muriel, “but it’s definitely necessary not to get separated.”
“The Master is right,” Kouram added. “And we must not forget the Squat Men. Kouram has seen their tracks; Kouram would not be surprised if they were setting a trap.”
VI. The Latent Pursuit
Life ingeniously repaired the obscure fibers of the gorilla and the caves of flesh where death had labored in the wreckage. Beneath hard vaults, in the depths of blanched orbits, his eyes began to scrutinize the universe again. A bitter suspicion persisted in the animal’s soul. He knew that he was the captive of equivocal creatures which resembled him somewhat. Sometimes, his forehead creased strangely; images floated in his mind, which recreated lost locales and his female companions…
When the human approached, his hair prickled; instinct raised his arms against the mortal danger that any creature might pose. There was, however, one whom he welcomed affectionately. When Hareton appeared, the man of the woods raised his heavy head with a gleam in his eyes. He studied that pale face patiently, that fair hair, those hands which had calmed his suffering and nourished him. In spite of recurrences of anxiety and surges of mistrust, sovereign habit and salutary repetit
ion—the origins of all security—gradually enveloped Ironcastle’s gestures.
The gorilla trusted him. The man’s every gesture became reassuring. The beast knew that there was someone in the vast world from whom he could expect food, the source of life, on a daily basis. Because they were renascent, these impressions were more profound and almost meditated. There was a vague exchange between the dissimilar mentalities.
Soon, Ironcastle’s presence was a pleasure. When the man appeared, the beast, reassured, submitted to the presence of others—but when Hareton drew away, a primitive defensiveness seethed in the huge breast.
The Squat Men were not tamed. An indomitable hostility gleamed in the depths of their pupils. Their opaque faces either remained strangely stiff or expressed flashes of homicidal aversion. They accepted care and nourishment without any glimmer of gratitude. Their mistrust was manifest in the long preliminaries that preceded their meals. They sniffed and prodded the foodstuffs interminably. Only Muriel seemed not to awaken their hatred. They watched her untiringly, and occasionally, something indecipherable agitated their heavy lips.
It was evident that they were perpetually on the alert. Their eyes gathered every image; their hearing absorbed the slightest rustle.
After the incident with the lions, their vigilance seemed more intense. One morning, Kouram said: “Their tribe is close by. It is talking to them.”
“Have you heard voices?” asked Ironcastle.
“No, Master. They aren’t voices…they’re signs in the grass, in the earth, the leaves and the water.”
“How do you know?”
“I know, Master, because the grass is cut at intervals, or braided, because there are grooves in the earth, because leaves are turned back or torn away in ways that beasts never do…because crossed wisps of straw float in the water. I know, Master!”
“You don’t know what all that means?”
“No, Master. I don’t know their signs…but they can’t be thinking about anything but doing us harm. And those we’ve captured are becoming a danger to us. We need to kill them or torture them.”
The Mysterious Force Page 21