The Lost City
Page 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 visitorsof the past evening, then the brothers Gillespie sprung forth from theflying-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 morereadily; but Waldo was not to be outdone so easily, and, reckless of theconsequences, he plunged into the eddying pool, with fully half of hisdaylight rig still in place.
The water proved to be considerably deeper than either brother hadanticipated, and Waldo vanished from sight for a few seconds, thenreappearing with lusty puff and splutter, shaking the pearly drops fromhis close-clipped curls, while ranting:
"Another vile fabrication nailed to the standard of truth, and clinchedby the hammer of--ouch!"
A wild flounder, then the youngster fairly doubled himself up, actingso strangely that Bruno gave a little cry of alarm; but ere the elderbrother could take further action, Waldo swung his right arm upward andoutward, sending a goodly sized trout flashing through the air to theshore, 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 fairlyrecover himself, Waldo had floundered ashore, leaving a yeasty turmoilin his wake, but then throwing up a dripping hand, and speaking in anexaggerated whisper:
"Whist, boy! On your life, not so much as the ghost of a whimper! Thehole's ramjammed chuck full of trout, and we'll have a meal fit for thegods if--where's my fishing tackle?"
Bruno picked up the trout, so queerly brought to light, reallysurprised, but feigning still further, as he made his examination.
"It really IS a trout, and--how long have you carried this about in yourclothes, 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 ofcourse I 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 sharpchatter of teeth as the fresh morning air struck through his drippinggarments. He gave a coltish prance, as he turned to seek his fishingtackle; but, unfortunately for his hopes of speedy sport, the professorwas nigh enough to both see and hear, and at once took charge of thereckless 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--hereby the fire, Waldo."
And thus taken in tow, the lad was forced to slowly but thoroughlytoast his person beside the freshly started fire, ruefully watching hisbrother deftly handle rod and line, in a remarkably short space of timekilling trout enough to furnish all with a bounteous meal.
"And I was the discoverer, while you reap all the credit, have all thefun!" dolefully lamented Waldo, when the catch was displayed with anostentation which may have covered just a tiny bit of malice. "I'll puta tin ear on you, Amerigo Vespucius!"
"All right; we'll have a merry go together, after you've cleaned thetrout for cooking, lad," laughed his elder.
Waldo gazed reproachfully into that bright face for a brief space, thenbowed head in joined hands, to sob in heartfelt fashion, his sturdyframe shaking with poorly suppressed grief--or mirth?
Bruno passed an arm caressingly over those shoulders, murmuring words ofcomfort, earnestly promising to never sin again in like manner, providedhe could find forgiveness now. And then, with deft touch, that same handheld his garment far enough for its mate to let slip a wriggling troutadown his brother's back.
Waldo howled and jumped wildly, as the cold morsel slipped along hisspine, 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 apart of wisdom to interfere now, and, ere long, matters quieted down,all hands engaged in preparing the morning meal, for which all teethwere now fairly on edge.
If good nature had been at all disturbed, long before that breakfast wasdespatched it was fully restored, and of the trio, Waldo appeared to bethe most enthusiastic over present prospects.
"Why, just think of it, will you?" he declaimed, as well as might bewith mouth full of crisply fried mountain trout, "where the game comesbegging for you to bowl it over, and the very fish try to jump into yourpockets--"
"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 theswift retort, with a portentous frown. "But, joking aside, why not? Withsuch hunting and fishing, I'd be willing to sign a contract for a roundyear in this region."
"To say nothing of exploration, and such discoveries as naturally attendupon--"
"Then you really mean it all, uncle Phaeton?"
Leaning back far enough to pluck a handful of green leaves, which fairlywell served the purpose of a napkin, Professor Featherwit brought forthpipe and pouch, maintaining silence until the fragrant tobacco was wellalight. 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 thanyou would readily credit, my lads; or, in fact, than I would be whollywilling to confess. And it was with an eye single to this very adventurethat I laboured to devise and perfect yonder machine."
"A marvel in itself, uncle Phaeton. Only for that, where would we havebeen, 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 thetrouble of taking them off, youngster."
"And where you'll catch a precious hiding, without you let up harping onthat old string; it's way out of tune already, old man."
"Tit for tat. Excuse us, please, uncle Phaeton. We're like colts infresh pasture, this morning," brightly apologised Bruno, for both.
Apparently the professor paid no attention to that bit of sparringbetween his nephews, staring into the glowing camp-fire with eyes whichsurely saw more than yellow coals or ruddy flames could picture; eyeswhich 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 instantlater, forcing a bright smile as he glanced from face to face. "And whynot? How better could my last years be employed than in piercing theclouds of mystery, and doubt, and superstition, with which this vasttract has been enveloped for uncounted ages?"
"Is it really so unknown, then, uncle Phaeton?" hesitatingly askedBruno, touched, in spite of himself, by that intensely earnest tone andexpression. "Of course, I know what the Indians say; they are full of arude sort of superstitious awe, which--"
"Which is one of the surest proofs that truth forms a foundation forthat very superstition," quickly interjected the professor. "It is anundisputed fact that there are hundreds upon hundreds of square miles ofterra incognita, lying in this corner of Washington Territory. No whiteman ever fairly penetrated these wilds, even so far as we may have beencarried while riding the tornado. Or, if so, he assuredly has neverreturned, 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 theirtraditions may seem in our judgment, it only takes calm investigationto bring a fair foundation to light. In regard to this vast scope ofcountry, go where you will among the natives, question whom you seefit, as to its secrets, and you will meet with the same results: adeep-seated awe, a belief which cannot be shaken, that here strangemonsters breed and flourish, matched in mag
nitude and power by an armedrace of human beings, before whose awful might other tribes are but asants in the pathway of an elephant."
Waldo let escape a low, prolonged whistle of mingled wonder andincredulity, but Bruno gave him a covert kick, himself too deeplyinterested to bear with a careless interruption just then.
"Of course there may be something of exaggeration in all this," admittedthe enthusiastic professor. "Undoubtedly, there is at least a fair spiceof that; but, even so, enough remains to both waken and hold our keenestinterest. Listen, and take heed, my good lads.
"You have often enough, of late days, noticed these mountains, and ifyou remark their altitude, the vast scope of country they dominate, theposition they fill, you must likewise realise one other fact: that animmense quantity of snow in winter, rain in spring and autumn, surelymust fall throughout the Olympics. Understand?"
"Certainly; why not, uncle Phaeton?"
"Then tell me this: where does all the moisture go to? What becomes ofthe surplus waters? For it is an acknowledged fact that, though riversand brooks surely exist in the Olympics, not one of either flows awayfrom 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 allis 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 thatlake never overflow? Of all that surely must drain into its basin,be that enormously wide and deep as it may, how much could ordinaryevaporation dispose of? Only an infinitesimal portion; scarcely worthmentioning in such connection. Then,--what becomes of the surplusage?"
Another pause, during which neither Gillespie ventured a solution; thenthe professor offered his own suggestion:
"It must flow off in some manner, and what other manner can that bethan--through a subterranean connection with the Pacific Ocean?"
Bruno gave a short ejaculation at this, while Waldo broke forth inwords, after his own particular fashion:
"Jules Verne redivivus! Why can't WE take a trip through the centre ofthe earth, or--or--any other little old thing like that?"
"With the tank of compressed air as a life-preserver?" laughed Bruno, inturn. "That might serve, but; unfortunately, we have only the one, andwe 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 gazeinto the fire, his face bearing a rapt expression curious to see, hebroke into almost unconscious speech:
"An enormous inland sea! Where float the mighty ichthyosaurus, themegalosaurus, in company with the gigantic plesiosaurus! Upon whosesloping shores disport the enormous mastodon, the stately megatherium,the tremendous--eh?"
For Waldo was now afoot, brandishing a great branch broken from a deadtree, uttering valiant war-whoops, and dealing tremendous blows uponan imaginary enemy, spouting at the top of his voice a frenzied jargon,which neither his auditors nor himself could possibly make sense out of.
Bruno, ever sensitive through his affectionate reverence for theiruncle, caught the youngster, and cast him to earth, whereupon Waldopantingly cried:
"Go on, please, uncle Phaeton. It's next thing to a museum and menageriecombined, just to hear--"
"Will you hush, boy?" demanded Bruno, yet unable to wholly smother alaugh, so ridiculous did it all sound and seem.
But Professor Featherwit declined, his foxy face wrinkling in a bashfullaugh. Whether so intended or not, he had been brought down to earthfrom that dizzy flight, and now was fairly himself again.
"Well, my dear boys, I dare say it seems all a matter of jest and sportto you; yet, after our riding in the centre of a tornado for uncountedmiles, coming forth with hardly a scratch or a bruise to show for itall, who dare say such things may not be, even yet?"
"But,--those strange creatures are gone; the last one perished thousandsupon thousands of years ago, uncle Phaeton."
"So it is said, and so follows the almost universal belief. Yet I haveseen, felt, cooked, tasted, and ate to its last morsel a steak from amammoth. True, the creature was dead; had been preserved for ages, nodoubt, within the glacier which finally cast it forth to human view; yetwho would have credited such a discovery, only fifty years ago? He whodared to even hint at such a thing would have been derided and laughedat, pronounced either fool or lunatic. And so,--if we should happen todiscover one or all of those supposedly extinct creatures here in thisterra incognita, I would be overjoyed rather than astounded."
Bruno looked grave at this conclusion, but Waldo was not so readilyimpressed, and, with shrugging shoulders, he made answer:
"Well, uncle, I'm not quite so ambitious as all that comes to. May Igive you my idea of it all?"