by Don Wilcox
“Like the two little boys on their way to school,” Sue said. “Little Johnny and his brother.”
“Never met ‘em,” Jimmy said.
“You’ve heard the story. Two little boys were about to be late for school, and little Johnny said, ‘Let’s stop and pray that we won’t be late,’ and his big brother said, ‘Let’s keep hiking and pray while we hike.’ ”
PART II
Men had failed to thwart the plans of the evil SCRAVVZEK, because all men were slaves to it power—all, that is, but one . . .
Synopsis of Part I
Allan Burgess’ thoughts were haunted by the memory of losing eighty men on an African expedition. He knew that every one of them had been killed, he had seen them die himself. But then he met a strange woman, Madame Lasanda, who seemed to have the strange ability to not only read his mind—but also the past and future. It was Madame Lasanda who convinced Allan Burgess, much to ^his horror that the eighty men he thought had been killed were in actuality still alive—held captive by a terrible ‘power deep within an immense mountain from whose side glistened a brilliant jewel—the eye of the world.
Burgess decided to return to Africa to solve the mystery, for he knew he would never rest until he found out if what Madame Lasanda had said was true. He met, seemingly by accident, Sue Carson, famed as the “Yippee” girl in the entertainment world. Burgess, along with his close friend, Jimmy Ruggles, commandeers her private plane, and with the girl aboard, takes off for the Dark Continent.
They finally reach the great mystery mountain with its jewel eye staring out over the world, and Burgess leaves Jimmy and Sue in the ship and parachutes down to the mountain.
He finds a weird world inside it, and to his astonishment, finds his men still alive, recruited as guards for an evil power that calls itself the Scravvzek. This dread power speaks through the lips of a famed scientist who had vanished from America, a Dr. Val Pakkerman. Burgess secretly adopts the roll of one of the members of the guard and vows to subdue the power that threatens to engulf the world.
In the meantime, Sue Carson and Jimmy Ruggles have landed the ship and returned to the mountain on foot, in the company of a native boy, known as Buni. They also get inside the mountain, and after a perilous scrape with the guards, meet up with Allan Burgess once more.
Back in America, Madame Lasanda is shown to be a mystery figure, wielding fingers of influence for investigation of the mystery mountain for purposes that only she is aware of. She, in the company of certain political figures, is conspiring for the fate of the world.
As the first installment ends, Burgess, back in the mystery mountain, has seen finally, Val Pakkerman, the famed scientist, and the terrible force of the Scravvzek ruling through the scientist’s body. You can pick up the story now as Allan, Jimmy, and Sue, are traveling on the glide-walk and discussing the evil Scravvzek. Allan is worried, saying:
CHAPTER XXIX (continued)
“We’d better do a little praying of our own,” Allan said a moment later. A patch of light had appeared. The glide-walk would coast through it soon. It was a good time to be on the alert. One never knew when the other dwellers of these caves might step aboard the walk.
The light passed over them. They got a fleeting sight of an opening that led down an incline toward one of the cavern rooms Allan had seen before. There were no signs of Green Coats or White Sharks. Traffic was light at this hour. Allan knew that Sully’s staff must still be resting.
Jimmy, who had been over some of this ground before, now observed that this was the path he had taken back to the Glass Arena after his first runaway ride. The glimpse also revealed a return walk above their heads. The track and rollers were visible. The walk was gliding along in the opposite direction from their own. This answered a question that had been heckling Allan ever since they boarded. He couldn’t conceive of all the traffic flowing in one direction only, unless a man’s trip to the Black River and beyond was to be his last and final journey.
The discovery of the return walk overhead also served as a warning to keep their voices low. A man might be crossing over them at any time, catching snatches of their conversation.
A few more openings into the brighter caverns swept by. They saw a spacious kitchen where a few Rocky Chests were busy stirring soup and slicing long loaves of brown bread. They caught sight of a garment factory of sorts. A white Shark was counting a batch of new uniforms, and three of his assistants were bringing out armloads of new garments.
“There’s strategy for you,” Allan commented. “Sully has taken a beating, and his ego has suffered. He needs a facelifting in the eyes of the others. So he’s passing out a few favors to get himself back on the pedestal. Fresh uniforms. We’ll see more of those.”
“An’ we better see them before they see us,” Jimmy added.
After another interval of darkness their rolling walk brought them alongside a wide underground river.
The dark ceiling that arched over the water emitted a faint purplish light. The waters could be seen, flowing swiftly, rippling with nervous lines of dark blue and purple. So this was the Black River, a sort of dividing line.
“It was along here that I first saw Pakkerman,” Jimmy declared, trying to look around the curve ahead, “I thought you got off at the stop back yonder.”
“I first got off somewhere up Ahead—I think,” Jimmy added, slightly dizzy over it all. “Then I must have got on the return walk above us for part of the trip back. Or else this thing goes in circles.”
Sue declared. “I’ve been going in spirals ever since I boarded. Doesn’t anyone ever come around to take up tickets?”
“It’s a lotta free ride, whether you come or go,” Jimmy said. “Who d’y reckon ever set this business up in the first place, Captain? You know Sully wouldn’t have the know-how for a job like this.”
Allan knew that Sully and the crew had nothing to do with it. The power of the Scravvzek had been applied here. The black tunnel, the grading along the bank of the Black River and the short low bridge that now loamed just ahead—these were evidences of a power that could move mountains with magic fingertips. Obviously, the walk wasn’t being overburdened with traffic these days. But it may have been in operation through many busier years—or centuries—who knew?
Now they were gliding across the bridge. The return walk was visible over their heads. And a few feet higher, the arched ceiling over the river could be seen.
Allen reached down over the edge of the walk and managed to touch the surface of the water. Warm, swiftly flowing. Rippling with blue light. And rather inviting, he thought. If he hadn’t had more urgent business ahead, he’d have been tempted to stop for a swim.
He wondered about the river’s elevation, as compared with Bunjojop Lake. He felt sure that the glide-walk had taken them many feet downward since they had come away from the Red Room.
The gliding walk carried them into another black tunnel whose narrow walls were close enough to bump Allan’s elbows if he wasn’t careful. The river was left behind. Again pitch blackness.
“Still there, Sue?”
“Present.”
“Scared?”
“A little,” said Sue. “I keep thinking, how do we know but what this walk will pitch us over a cliff sooner or later. When it gets too black to see anything, how do we know but what we’ll drop into a hopper that will grind us into hamburger or something?”
“Hamburger!” Jimmy gasped. “I’m so hungry I’m about to faint. When do we eat? If ever.”
Sue shuddered. “I can’t stand conversations that end on if ever. As long as we have this lunch that Gallagher packed for us, we can’t start starving. Why don’t we eat, Captain? I don’t want Jimmy to faint here in the dark. He might roll off the glide-walk.”
“Yeah, an; five miles later you’d miss me.”
Farther on, they found a lighted station of sorts. It was one of the thousands of rambling caverns, but it was brightly lighted and furnished with a bench. And there was dr
inking water.
While Allan and Jimmy speculated over the distance they had come, Sue spread the lunch. She sniffed to discover that Gallagher had included a bottle of liquor. She promptly discarded it.
“The banquet is served, gentlemen. Fall to.”
Allan wished there was some way to employ a guide. He wanted some assurance that they were going in the right direction. He had begun to fear that they might have passed the “mirrors of the world” somewhere in the dark.
“Here comes a guide now,” Jimmy whispered. His sharp ears had caught the sounds of voices approaching. “Now I wonder who—”
“Back into the shadows!” Allan commanded. “It’s someone on the glide-walk. Maybe a search party. Hide! Take no chances!”
Sue picked up the lunch things like lightning. Jimmy accounted for two sandwiches in the scramble for cover.
Allan gathered Sue and Jimmy back into a shadowed passage and there they waited, huddled close, as the voices approached.
CHAPTER XXX
In her studio in the Garmond Building, Maple City, U.S.A., Madam Lasanda raised her heavy eyelids. It must be growing late. She was sitting at her table. A cup of tea rested by her hand. She took a sip and found that it had grown cold. She must have dozed.
Before her eyes the copper statue stood, lighted. Mysterious little Ksentajaiboa! He was waving his arm, and the rhythmic light was coming and going from the base upon which he stood. Patient little fellow. Wave after wave after wave.
Of course, he was always there. Always ready to serve. Always ready to listen to her thoughts or give back to her some weird impressions that somehow came from far away.
She sipped a little of her cold tea and sighed sleepily. She rose, turned to one of the dark mirrors, and touched her hair with a comb. Strangely, she recalled a pretty compliment that Val Pakkerman once paid her. He had loved her beautiful hair.
The light reflected in the mirror caught her attention. Ksentajaiboa! He was surely trying to attract her attention.
She turned back to him, gazing, wondering whether to arouse herself and listen to his faint messages yet tonight. It was late. She should be going home.
Again she sat before him. And suddenly she was alert. Some strange vibrations reached her. She raised her dark eyebrows.
“What is it? . . . What is it?”
She allowed her heavy lids to fall closed for a moment. Not with sleepiness. With a mood. A mood that responded to the light of the Egyptian fire tender. His quiet, intense fluttering whispers began to penetrate Not as audible whispers; rather as whispered images. The light came and went. . . The delicate images took shape in her mind through some fragile sense that was neither sight nor sound . . .
Mist . . . A purple cliff . . . Mist Beyond the cliff that stretched away . . .
She was standing on the brink of the purple cliff.
The blue waters of the lake below the cliff were invisible through the mist.
The waters were pounding away at the cliff ceaselessly. They were wearing it away. Slowly it was giving way. Soon it would cave in. The ground under her feet would be eaten away, and she would fall . . . and everyone on the cliff would fall to their death . . . Mass destruction was coming. Soon, soon . . .
But she did not wait. She saw. She knew. And she wasn’t obliged to stay on the cliff while death approached. For she was a graceful bird with strong wings.
She was a graceful bird whose sharp eyes could see through the mist that lay upon the lake.
She flew from the edge of the cliff and winged her way over the wide blue waters. Her destination was somewhere beyond the mist. She could see it now. Distant hills, towering above the other side of the lake.
But as she flew, a flock of ugly brown buzzards swooped down and tried to fly with her. They had the talons of buzzards, and they cawed like crows, and scolded like sparrows. And they spoke of mirrors. Well, they were a quarrelsome flock. But they wanted to fly with her. She could guide them.
Together they flew. She watched them, winging beside her. Vultures, they were, biding their time.
They refrained from molesting her until they approached the hills at the far side of the lake. Now she was about to alight. This was her destination.
They pounced upon her, meaning to kill her . . . They caught her. Their talons tore into her flesh . . .
Madam Lasanda’s eyes opened.
She stared through the dim fire of the little Ksentajaiboa. Had she fallen asleep again? Was it only a dream? Or was it a message?
She rose, walked uneasily about the room, allowing her eyes to dwell upon the jeweled murals on her walls. It was always a restoring thing to do—to rest her eyes upon the panorama. The fanciful Oriental minarets usually lifted her out of her heavy thoughts. There was something fairy-like about the little jewels that gleamed at her from the windows of the painted mosques. A soothing effect.
The effect didn’t come. There was something disturbing. A single diamond was glaring back at her too harshly.
She turned and snapped off the Ksentajaiboa. Now there would be less reflected light. Yes, the cold blaze from the diamond softened. She narrowed her eyes, trying to convince herself—
It was still there. More in her mind than in actual picture, she thought. A lingering image. It was not a diamond, it was an eye—the eye of one of those vultures that wanted to fly with her.
She shook her head. It must have been the tea. Or the air in this room was too close. She would hurry home. She reached for her coat.
The doorbell sounded.
Who could be ringing at this hour? It was nearly midnight.
“It’s Martin, of course,” she said to herself. Martin had no doubt been waiting for the past hour to chauffeur her home. Quiet, patient, little Martin.
She went to the door, opened it an inch, and gave a little lisp of surprise. It was Mayor Channing.
“You again! Well,” she said, opening the door a little wider.
“I tried to get you at your residence, Madam Lasanda. You’ll pardon me,” he was fairly panting, and he paused to get his breath. “When you didn’t arrive home as expected I decided to try here.”
The odd nervousness in his manner as he faced her was something he had acquired during their earlier conference, she thought. The intervening hours had hardly restored his poise.
“It’s too late for me to invite you in,” Madam Lasanda said.
“I’ll be brief. I’m flying to Africa. Tonight. Some of the boys and I. Will you go with us?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“We want you to come along. I told the boys all the things you said. They’re convinced that you—”
“That I deserve a license to tell fortunes?”
“License, of course! A trivial detail.
We didn’t even discuss the matter. But on this Africa business, they’re convinced that you know whereof you speak.”
Madam Lasanda smiled. Convinced, were they? “You put it nicely.”
“You could lead us where we want to go. They wanted me to urge you—”
“And you were so sure I didn’t deserve a license!”
“Forget the license! We’ll print up a whole barrel full of licenses for you. We’ll advertise your racket—I mean your gift—at the city’s expense if you say so. But please, in heaven’s name. This is urgent. The boys and I are hot on this notion of going. Well, what about it?”
She smiled cynically, glancing past him at the darkness of the hallway. “I can imagine how I would be, flying with a lot of quarrelsome birds.”
“Quarrelsome birds? You’ve never even met the boys, have you? They’re a fine, sociable gang.”
She tried to put the dream out of her mind. “I’d be an enemy from the start. You know it.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
“You’ve thought it through?”
“Oh, the boys have guessed that you might try to sabotage our plans any way you can, short of crashing the plane.” He winked as if to belittle a
ny worries: “Think nothing of it.”
“You’re giving me the benefit of the doubt,” Madam Lasanda said caustically. But if you think I can guide you to the mountain that’s calling you, you’re quite right.”
“Then you’ll go?”
She was looking in the distance again. “I wonder what I might accomplish . . .” She thought of Val Pakkerman . . . “All right, I’ll be at the airport in two hours.”
CHAPTER XXXI
Chester Bandyworth and four Green Coats had been the first party to start out after the rest period. Bandyworth’s blood was boiling. Not entirely with anger. He still chafed at the mention of losing his uniform, for both the ex-captain and that funny faced Jimmy Ruggles had dealt him a generous handout of embarrassment.
Bandyworth was boiling with indignation. But that wasn’t all. A wave of ambition had also sent his temperature soaring.
“Next to Sully, we take our orders from you, Bandy,” one of the Green Coats had said just before they mounted the glide-walk. “After the way you trapped the captain and Ruggles, you’re our man.”
“Me too,” another Green Coat agreed. “You got ‘em. It was Sully that let ‘em get away.”
Bandy acknowledged their compliments. “If I pull a reward out of this deal, you fellows can split half of it among the four of you.”
That was generous enough, and the Green Coats knew it. Bandy had to hush them a moment later. They were gliding along through the dark tunnel. Fine transportation, but it had its drawbacks. One couldn’t talk aloud without running the risk of being heard. All along the inky black walls were little alcoves—if one knew where to find them. The fellow who knew his way, through this midnight tour could step off and wait in silence until he heard someone come along,