The Lost City
Page 5
CHAPTER V. THE PROFESSOR'S UNKNOWN LAND.
There was neither time nor opportunity for taking notes, for thatlong rope straightened out in the fraction of a second, throwing allprostrate as the flying-machine was jerked upward with awful force.
All around them raged and roared the mighty winds, while missiles ofalmost every description pelted and pounded both machine and inmatesduring those few seconds of extraordinary peril.
Fortunately neither the professor nor his nephews could fairly realisejust what was taking place, else their brains would hardly have stoodthe test; and fortunately, too, that ordeal was not protracted.
A hideous experience while it lasted, those vicious currents draggingthe 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 debris,which hindered the eyesight of both uncle and nephews.
Through it all the brothers were dimly aware of one fact uncle Phaetonwas shrilly bidding them cling fast and have courage.
All at once they felt as though vomited forth from a volcano whichalternately breathed fire and ice, the clear light of evening burstingupon their aching, smarting eyes with actual pain, while that horridroar of warring elements seemed to pass away in the distance, leavingthem--where, and how?
"We're falling to--merciful heavens! Hold fast, all!" screamed theprofessor, desperately striving to regain full command of theirair-ship. "The tiller is jammed, but--"
To all seeming, the aerostat had sustained some fatal damage during thatbrief eruption caused by the professor's little experiment, for itwas pitching drunkenly end for end, refusing to obey the hand of itsbuilder, bearing all to certain death upon the earth far below.
Half stupefied with fear, the brothers clung fast to the life-line andglared downward, noting, in spite of themselves, how swiftly yonder darktree-tops and gray crags were shooting heavenward to meet them and claimthe sacrifice.
With fierce energy Professor Featherwit jerked and wrenched at thesteering-gear, uttering words such as had long been foreign to his lips,but then--just when destruction appeared inevitable--a wild cry burstfrom his lungs, as a broken bit of native wood came away in his lefthand, leaving the lever free as of old!
And then, with a dizzying swoop and rapid recovery, the gallant air-shipcame 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 wasbrushed in their passage.
"Saved,--saved, my lads!" screamed the professor, as his heart-petsoared upward once more until well past the danger-line. "Safe and soundthrough 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 surelybeen spared them, even as by a miracle!
That swooping turn now brought their faces towards the tornado, whichwas at least a couple of miles distant, rapidly making that distancegreater even while continuing its work of destruction.
"And we--were in it!" huskily muttered Bruno, his lids closing with ashiver, as he averted his face, unwilling to see more.
"Heap sight worse than being in the soup, too, if 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 intail-ballast, while the professor seemed unable to keep the machineunder complete control.
"Nothing serious, only--hold fast, all! I believe 'twould be as well tomake 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, ProfessorFeatherwit succeeded in making a landing with no more serious mishapthan sundry bruises and a little extra teeth-jarring.
As quickly as possible, both Bruno and Waldo pitched themselves out ofthe partially disabled aeromotor, the elder brother grasping the grapneland taking a couple of turns of the strong rope around a convenienttree-trunk, lest the ship escape them altogether.
"No need, my gallant boy!" assured the professor, an instant later. "Allis well,--all IS well, thanks to an over-ruling Providence!"
In spite of this expressed confidence, he hurriedly looked over his petmachine, taking note of such injuries as had been received during thatremarkable journey, only giving over when fairly satisfied that alldamage might be readily made good, after which the aerostat would be astrustworthy as upon its first voyage on high.
Then, grasping the brothers each by a hand, he smiled genially, thenlifted eyes heavenward, to a moment later sink upon his knees with bowedhead and hands folded across his bosom.
Bruno and Waldo imitated his action, and, though no audible wordswere spoken, never were more heartfelt prayers sent upward, never moregrateful thanks given unto the Most High.
Boy, youth, and man alike seemed fairly awed into silence for the nextfew minutes, unable to so soon cast off the spell which had fallen uponthem, one and each, when realising how mercifully their lives had beenspared, even after all earthly hope had been abandoned.
As usual, however, Waldo was first to rally, and, after silently movingaround the aerostat, upon which the professor was already busily at workby the last gleams of the vanished sun, he paused, legs separated, andhands thrust deep into pockets, head perking on one side as he spoke,drawlingly:
"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 fromStorytown! And yet,--did it really happen, or have I been dreaming allthe way through?"
Professor Featherwit gave a brief, dry chuckle at this, rising erect tocast a deliberate glance around their present location, then speaking:
"Without I am greatly mistaken, my dear boy, you will have still othermarvellous happenings to relate ere we return to what is, rightfully orwrongfully, called civilisation."
"Is that so? Then you really reckon--"
"For one thing, my lad, we are now fairly entered upon a terraincognita, 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 circumscribedview was theirs. The shades of evening were settling fast, and on allsides they could see but mighty trees, rugged rocks, a mountain streamfrom whose pebbly bed came a soothing murmur.
"Nothing so mighty much to brag of, anyway," irreverently quoth Waldo,after that short-lived scrutiny. "It wouldn't fetch a dollar an acre atauction, and for my part,--wonder when the gong will sound for supper?"
That blunt hint was effective, and, letting the subject drop for thetime 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 seriousdifficulty was experienced in kindling a fire, while Waldo had littletrouble in heaping up a bounteous supply of fuel.
Through countless ages the forest monarchs had been shedding theirsuperfluous boughs, while here and there lay an entire tree, overthrownby some unknown power, and upon which the brothers made heavyrequisition.
Professor Featherwit took from the locker a supply of tinned goods,together with a patent coffee-pot and frying-pan, so convenient wherespace is scarce and stowage-room precious.
With water from the little river, it took but a few minutes more toscent the evening with grateful fumes, after which the adventurous triosquatted there in the ruddy glow, eating, sipping, chatting, now andagain forced to give thanks for their really miraculous preservationafter all human hopes had been exhausted.
Although Professor Featherwit was but little less thankful for thewondrous leniency shown them, he could not altoge
ther refrain frommourning the loss of his camera, with its many snap-shots at the tornadoitself, to say nothing of what he might have secured in addition, whileriding the storm so marvellously.
More to take his thoughts away from that loss than through actualcuriosity in the subject offered by way of substitute, Bruno asked forfurther light upon the so-called terra incognita.
"Of course it isn't really an unknown land, though, uncle Phaeton?" headded, 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 atleast equal positivity, have declared it impossible to enter a tornadowhile 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, withemphatic nod, brushing the tips of his fingers together, as he movedback to assume a more comfortable position inside the air-ship, thenquickly 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 theinterior of Darkest Africa, my boys, besides enjoying this peculiaradvantage: while adventurous white men have traversed those benightedregions in every direction, even though little permanent good mayhave been accomplished, this terra incognita remains virgin in thatparticular 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 wascountless ages gone by. So far as history reads, neither white man norred has ever ventured fairly within these limits; a mountainous wastewhich rises from the level country, within ten or fifteen miles of theStraits of San Juan de Fuca, in the north, the Pacific Ocean in thewest, Hood's Canal in the east, and the barren sand-hills lying to thefar south.
"This irregular range is known upon the map as the Olympics, and,rising to the height of from six to eight thousand feet, shut in a vastunexplored 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 ofwarriors, before whose might and strange weapons not one of the coasttribes can stand."
"One of the Lost Tribes of Israel, shouldn't wonder," drawlinglyvolunteered Waldo, stifling a yawn, and forced to rub his inflamed eyeswith a surreptitious paw.
Professor Featherwit, though plainly absorbed in his curious theory, wasyet quick to detect this evidence of weariness, and laughed a bit, withchange of both tone and manner, as he spoke further:
"That forms but a partial introductory to my lecture, dear lads, butperhaps it might be as well to postpone the rest for a more propitiousoccasion. 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, whichproved startling enough, in all conscience,--a shrill, maniacal screech,which sent cold chills running races up each spine.