Still followed by his satellite, he went in, and with a gesture that was immediately understood and obeyed, ordered that the block of slate serving as a door should be replaced. As before, the subaltern chief squatted down inside, against the slate slab.
“Any news?” asked Paul, with visible anxiety.
The Doctor replied by writing in the sand: I no longer hope to learn the language in a short time. We have to try something else. I have an idea. Give me the scrap of cloth.
When he had the red rag in his claw, he turned to the chief. The other stood up. Ahmed Bey showed it the scrap, emitting an imperious whistle.
The Mercurian remained stupidly motionless, however. Ahmed Bey waved the piece of red cloth in front of its eye, but the expressionless eye remained empty of any thought.
“It doesn’t understand,” said Paul.
Then the Doctor, still holding the piece of fabric in his claw, opened the door and went out, indicated by a gesture that he wanted to be followed. The chief obeyed, and Brad and Paul also came out of the hut. The Doctor raised the scarlet scrap in the air and extended his am successively toward the four points of the horizon. Whistles rose up from the host of monopods, but the chief did not budge and its eye, like the eyes of all the other monsters, remained stupid.
“They don’t understand,” Paul repeated—and he looked at the compact crowd of monopods, his expression both furious and desperate, at the heavy golden river, still the same, at the two slopes of the black cliffs that rose up to either side, only leaving a thin strip between them through which dazzling pale green light passed, descending from the eternal dark green clouds that could be seen moving through the atmosphere...
And the spectacle of that implacable nature in which nothing lived except those little black monsters, cruel, horrible, implausible and repugnant, filled him with a sensation of fearful anguish.
“Brad!” he exclaimed. “Let’s get out of here—anywhere at all! Let’s search this frightful planet in every direction. Let’s search for Lolla until I die of despair!”
But Ahmed Bey seized him by the arm and dragged him into the hut. In the dust, he wrote: Courage! We’ll find them. Pick up your pike. Let’s go—but be a man!
For a few minutes, Paul remained wearily motionless in front of the inscription. When he raised his head, he saw the red Mercurian eyes of Ahmed Bey and Brad looking at him, with an entirely human expression of amity and encouragement. A soul—a veritable soul—animated each of them! And he remembered the prodigy of disincarnation and reincarnation. He was ashamed of his weakness then and, straightening up, he seized his pike with a firm hand and said resolutely: “Let’s go!”
Outside, Ahmed Bey, agitating his gold-ringed trunk, had only to start walking for the entire crowd of monopods to part in front of him. Having arrived at the edge of the river, he turned round. The chief was still there, a faithful satellite. He gripped it with his claw and made it stand next to Paul and Brad. Then, spotting two other Mercurians, the trunks of which were only ornamented with a single thin gold ring, he summoned them with a gesture and stood them beside their superior. Then, abruptly, he pointed to the river and jumped on to the heavy elastic waves. Brad, Paul and the three ringed Mercurians imitated him. The crowd of monopods wanted to launch themselves too, but Ahmed Bey stopped them with a terrible whistle and a curt gesture of his extended arm.
The crowd stopped dead on the shore, and the golden river soon carried the little part-human and part-Mercurian company away, and out of the tumultuous city.
Chapter Two
Which concludes with a leap into the unknown
Paul de Civrac looked at the watch that was still suspended from his belt. It had stopped. He wound it up and set the hands to twelve o’clock.
By that means he was able to take account of the fact that an entire half-hour went by before the moment when the river, finally emerging from the overhanging cliffs, broadened out its heavy gilded waves between two vast plains of russet grass. Paul estimated the rapidity of the golden river in mid-stream at fifty kilometers an hour in the enclosed valley; taking account of the position of the city, almost in the middle of the valley, the latter was therefore approximately fifty kilometers long.
Once they were in the plain, the rapidity of the river diminished gradually, until the current was no longer travelling at about twenty-five kilometers an hour. So, without the shade of the cliffs and the relative freshness produced by the extreme velocity of their glide, the torrid heat made itself felt cruelly, not for Ahmed Bey or Brad, whose Mercurian bodies were adapted to such an environment, for Paul, whose sojourn in the twilight zone had dishabituated him to the high temperature of the luminous plain. He was obliged to resume squinting in order to adapt his eyes to the blinding glare falling from the eternal green clouds.
Behind those clouds, which never opened a gap on the infinity of the heavens, the sun was shining, and with what glare! Without the clouds to filter its radiance of light and heat, the entire planet would have caught fire and burst like a prodigious firework.
The journey through the immense russet plain lasted for six and a quarter hours. In the fifth hour the travelers saw mountains profiled in the distance, as yet indecisively. At the same time, the velocity of the river accelerated, until it reached approximately a hundred kilometers an hour. The banks were flashing by like fields and ravines on both sides of a terrestrial automobile driven at top speed.
Anxiously, Paul said to Ahmed Bey: “Where the devil are we? Surely, to acquire such speed, the river must precipitate itself up ahead from the top of some cliff in a frightful cataract…?”
Ahmed Bey could only respond with a futile whistle, but with a gesture he indicated the three true monopods. They were perfectly tranquil.
“I understand,” said Paul. “You mean that as long as those monsters conserve their placidity, no danger can be threatening us. You’re right...”
As he said it, the three Mercurians emitted a shrill whistle and, as one, lay down prone on the river, heads forward, and used their arms as a rudder to maintain themselves in the center of the current. The Terrans noticed, in fact, that they had been tending to draw apart from one another because of the turbulent eddies in the stream.
“Let’s imitate them!” Paul said.
The three monopods had arranged themselves in Indian file, with the trunk of the second wound around the foot of the first and the trunk of the third wound around the foot of the second. Paul lay down behind the third monopod and hung on to its foot with both hands. Ahmed Bey and Brad lined up behind Paul; on the golden river the six creatures must have resembled a bizarre serpent, black at both ends and white in the middle...
The mountains were getting closer by the minute, and the velocity of the current was still increasing. In order to be able to breathe, Paul had to put his head between his extended arms, and his lips and nose sometimes brushed the hot opaque surface of the golden river.
At one point, where the river, forming a lake, was somewhat calmer, he was able to raise his head and say: “As long as this vertiginous race to the abyss is taking us closer to Lolla and Francisco!”
Ahmed Bey and Brad replied with a long whistle.
But the mountains were no more than two or three kilometers away now. A vast excavation opened up in their abrupt base. The voyagers were suddenly engulfed, and there was almost complete darkness around them, into which the mysterious phosphorescence of the river spread the pale clarity of a night-light.
The vaults of the subterranean channel were lost in absolute night.
A few minutes after they had gone into the mountain, the silence—the oppressive Mercurian silence—was strangely troubled. Without any of the Terrans being able to tell where it came from, they heard a kind of rhythmic rumble, which rose and fell in pitch like the profound voices of the wind in a pine forest,
Suddenly, the three Mercurians started whistling, and their whistles, exceedingly shrill, seemed to be expressing fear. Paul sensed that th
e monopod to which he was hanging on was attempting to detach its foot. He raised his head and saw that the two Mercurians in the lead had separated from the chain and were gliding toward the left-hand wall of the channel. Within a second, they had disappeared into the hole, into which an arm of the river flowed.
“My friends!” Paul Shouted. “The first two monsters have left us! The one I’m holding on to is trying to shake me off too! It’s struggling...but I’m not letting go...”
A louder rumble, coming from the unknown, cut off his speech. Immediately afterwards, he perceived that the monopod whose foot he was clutching had stopped struggling, doubtless resigned.
“Some grave danger is threatening us!” he shouted. “My prisoner is no longer trying to escape. It understands that we’ve passed the place where it would have been able to take the road to salvation. What’s going to happen?”
Brad ad Ahmed Bey responded with their habitual whistling, but they clung harder to one another.
The inexplicable rhythmic rumbling was now ringing hollow, frighteningly close by. The Mercurian in the lead was no longer giving any sign of life.
Paul felt horribly alone, exposed to a danger as unknown as it was inevitable. Brad and Ahmed Bey were no help, since they could not talk.
The unfortunate young man did not lose his composure, however; he observed that the velocity of the current was increasing by the minute; the rocky walls, shiny in their phosphorescence, were racing past on both sides with lightning rapidity.
Similar now to claps of distant thunder, the rumbling filled him with a sensation of inexpressible dread.
Suddenly, there was a scream, a prolonged howl, lugubrious enough to chill the blood in the veins—an unusual scream coming from the depths of the abyss—and there were violent fulgurations everywhere...
And in an intense agony of terror that overwhelmed him, Paul saw that the monopod and he were hanging over the edge of a fiery precipice: an unfathomable precipice from which the frightful howling was rising.
He felt himself oscillating, swinging back and forth above the gulf…and, dragged over the edge, he fell.
One last glimmer of thought made him understand that he was still hanging on to the monopod, and that his two companions were falling with him...
And the four bodies plunged into the abyss, while the infernal howl rang out for a third time.
Chapter Three
Which is the tragic counterpart
to the preceding one
Five kilometers upstream of the fall that had engulfed Paul, Ahmed Bey, Brad and one other monopod, the golden river divided into two, and a part of the liquid mass plunged into a corridor narrower than the main tunnel. It was by that route that the Mercurians in the lead had escaped. The current became much less rapid therein, until it had no more velocity than that of a horse at a gentle trot.
Two hours before Paul and his companions passed by, a large company of Mercurians, arranged in a triangle with its point orientated in the direction of the current, had arrived at the bifurcation, had turned aside with the aid of arms forming a rudder, and had gone into the smaller corridor. In the middle of the troop, standing up and holding one another by the hand, Lolla Mendès and Francisco had been kept in view. They were not secured by any bonds, but they were still prisoners, for the tightly-packed ranks of the monopods were insurmountable. Besides which, where could they flee in that narrow ad low-ceilinged subterranean channel?
By virtue of a regrettable fatality, Lolla and Francisco had been taken out of the second hut where they had been enclosed and drawn on to the current of the river scarcely an hour before the arrival of Paul and his two companions in the Mercurian city. If Paul de Civrac, Ahmed Bey and Brad, understanding the whistles of the Mercurians in the lead, had veered into the minor arm of the river instead of letting themselves be dragged into the abyss, they would doubtless have caught up with Lolla and Francisco at some point, but destiny had decided otherwise, and while Paul and his companions were plunging into the mysterious abyss, the young woman and her domestic, prisoners of the monopods, were arriving in a second Mercurian city.
This one was built in a kind of funnel open to the sky, which the little river encountered in its slowed course. At first glance, that funnel, with high smooth walls, did not appear to have any other exits than the tunnels upstream and downstream of the river. Before they were shut away in a hut again, however, doubtless to wait for their fate to be decided. Lola and Francisco noticed that the sides of the funnel were holed with excavations not far from the bottom, and that roughly-carved steps led up and down the cliffs to each of those holes. They must, therefore, be the orifices of subterranean tunnels traversing the mountain, perhaps leading to the plains.
When the door of the hut closed again, Lolla and Francisco found themselves alone.
“We need to get away from here, Francisco,” Lolla said, “get our bearings, if possible, and head for the plateau where you left Paul. Even if he’s set off to search for you, he’ll go back there in the hope that you’ll return yourself. We need to get away. If we stay, sooner or later these monsters will puncture our eyes and drink our blood. I don’t want to die like that. I’d rather be killed trying to escape. We’ll have to try, even if it proves impossible.”
“I think the same, Señorita,” Francisco replied, “but I’m unarmed. Let’s wait until one of these monopods, as Monsieur de Civrac calls them, comes to visit us. I’ll catch it by the foot and use it as a club…and with the grace of God...”
“I recognize,” Lola said, “that we have very little chance of escape. But if I’m caught, you must leave me and go help Paul to wait for the marvelous arrival of Bild and Brad.”
Francisco made no reply, but he made it understood with a single glance that, if Lolla perished, he would bury himself beneath a veritable hecatomb of Mercurians in order to avenge her.
The two captives did not have long to wait. They had been silent for a few minutes when the door-slab fell away and a Mercurian appeared in the square of light. Before it could come in, however, Francisco, slipping into the doorway himself, had grabbed it by the foot and picked it up.
“Come on, Señorita!”
Already, however, Lolla was outside the hut, standing up beside him. He offered her his free hand, and, taking advantage of the stupor of the few monopods that were there, they started bounding toward the nearest wall together. Immediately, a volley of whistles told them that they were being pursued.
They had a start, though. They reached the foot of the cliff and were getting ready to climb up by means of the rudimentary steps when Lolla saw a thin trickle of yellow liquid going into a hole some distance to their left. Breathlessly, she said: “Come on, Francisco—let’s not go up; let’s keep our lead. There’s an easier tunnel...”
“Ah! Yes, Señorita, that’s lucky. The others are dark, but this one will be lit by the stream. At least we’ll be able to see there to direct our flight.”
They resumed running and bounding again, and before the monopods were able to bock their way they had plunged into the tunnel. It was narrow and not very light, but easy to follow because of the radiation produced by the stream. Its course was meandering and they jumped over it several times. Behind them they could hear the furious whistling of the monopods, and they ran, encouraged by the certainty that the whistling sounds were gradually diminishing in intensity—proof that the fugitives were still putting more distance between themselves and their pursuers.
“The stream’s getting broader, Señorita,” said Francis suddenly, without pausing, “and traveling in a straight line. It’s running in the direction we’re going—let’s stay still on its surface. It will carry us faster than we can run...”
“You’re right, Francisco. The courageous young woman jumped into the middle of the stream, which was about two meters wide at that point. Francisco jumped at the same time.
The current was, in fact, quite rapid, and the flight of the two fugitives as accelerated without ca
using them any fatigue. They could only hear the whistling of the Mercurian faintly. Soon, having gone round and abrupt bend in the stream, they could no longer hear them at all.
Their attention was abruptly solicited by other sounds, however. There was a dull and rhythmic rumbling rising and falling in pitch, like the profound voices of the wind in a pine forest.
At the same time, by virtue of the increasing rapidity with which the uneven side walls of the tunnel were receding rearwards, they took account of the fact that the current was becoming stronger in disquieting proportions.
“That rumbling’s frightening me, Francisco,” said Lolla, “and something tells me that we’re being drawn toward a gulf. We have to get to solid ground quickly. Look! There’s a ledge between the rock and the stream. It’s wide enough to walk along. Let’s jump on to it quickly, before the current become too strong...”
“Let’s jump, Señorita. Give me your hand.”
“Hold on.”
“Ready…hup!”
Their leap had been cleverly calculated, for their muscles knew by now how to adapt their efforts to Mercurian weight. They touched down on the ledge at a good spot, although their acquired momentum pulled them on and they nearly fell back into the shiny yellow waves. They braced themselves, stiffening their muscles and hung on to projections in the rock, bringing themselves to a stop. Their hands were slightly grazed, but the state of their nervous excitement was such that they were hardly aware of it.
“Let’s go,” said Lolla.
Animated by the hope of finding Paul de Civrac and waiting with him for the intervention of Bild sand Brad, the young woman now had as much strength, courage and presence of mind as Francisco. She had resumed her rank as mistress; she was in command.
The ledge along which they were moving, with Francisco behind Lolla, overhung the stream; in places it was several meters broad, but in others it shrank so as only to leave just enough room for their feet. The fugitives hung on to projections in the side wall then and, helping one another and favored by their light specific weight, they got past the bad patches adroitly. Beneath them, soundlessly, the seething stream was moving with vertiginous rapidity, rendered sensible to the Terrans’ gaze by the intermittent blistering of the heavy waves.
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