"It may do no harm," said he. "Among these woods there must be manyloud cracks from splitting or falling trees which would be just likethe sound of a gun. But now, if you are of my opinion, we have hadthrills enough for one day, and had best get back to the surgical boxat the camp for some carbolic. Who knows what venom these beasts mayhave in their hideous jaws?"
But surely no men ever had just such a day since the world began. Somefresh surprise was ever in store for us. When, following the course ofour brook, we at last reached our glade and saw the thorny barricade ofour camp, we thought that our adventures were at an end. But we hadsomething more to think of before we could rest. The gate of FortChallenger had been untouched, the walls were unbroken, and yet it hadbeen visited by some strange and powerful creature in our absence. Nofoot-mark showed a trace of its nature, and only the overhanging branchof the enormous ginko tree suggested how it might have come and gone;but of its malevolent strength there was ample evidence in thecondition of our stores. They were strewn at random all over theground, and one tin of meat had been crushed into pieces so as toextract the contents. A case of cartridges had been shattered intomatchwood, and one of the brass shells lay shredded into pieces besideit. Again the feeling of vague horror came upon our souls, and wegazed round with frightened eyes at the dark shadows which lay aroundus, in all of which some fearsome shape might be lurking. How good itwas when we were hailed by the voice of Zambo, and, going to the edgeof the plateau, saw him sitting grinning at us upon the top of theopposite pinnacle.
"All well, Massa Challenger, all well!" he cried. "Me stay here. Nofear. You always find me when you want."
His honest black face, and the immense view before us, which carried ushalf-way back to the affluent of the Amazon, helped us to remember thatwe really were upon this earth in the twentieth century, and had not bysome magic been conveyed to some raw pla
net in its earliest and wildeststate. How difficult it was to realize that the violet line upon thefar horizon was well advanced to that great river upon which hugesteamers ran, and folk talked of the small affairs of life, while we,marooned among the creatures of a bygone age, could but gaze towards itand yearn for all that it meant!
One other memory remains with me of this wonderful day, and with it Iwill close this letter. The two professors, their tempers aggravatedno doubt by their injuries, had fallen out as to whether our assailantswere of the genus pterodactylus or dimorphodon, and high words hadensued. To avoid their wrangling I moved some little way apart, andwas seated smoking upon the trunk of a fallen tree, when Lord Johnstrolled over in my direction.
"I say, Malone," said he, "do you remember that place where thosebeasts were?"
"Very clearly."
"A sort of volcanic pit, was it not?"
"Exactly," said I.
"Did you notice the soil?"
"Rocks."
"But round the water--where the reeds were?"
"It was a bluish soil. It looked like clay."
"Exactly. A volcanic tube full of blue clay."
"What of that?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," said he, and strolled back to where the voicesof the contending men of science rose in a prolonged duet, the high,strident note of Summerlee rising and falling to the sonorous bass ofChallenger. I should have thought no more of Lord John's remark wereit not that once again that night I heard him mutter to himself: "Blueclay--clay in a volcanic tube!" They were the last words I heard beforeI dropped into an exhausted sleep.
CHAPTER XI
"For once I was the Hero"
Lord John Roxton was right when he thought that some specially toxicquality might lie in the bite of the horrible creatures which hadattacked us. On the morning after our first adventure upon theplateau, both Summerlee and I were in great pain and fever, whileChallenger's knee was so bruised that he could hardly limp. We kept toour camp all day, therefore, Lord John busying himself, with such helpas we could give him, in raising the height and thickness of the thornywalls which were our only defense. I remember that during the wholelong day I was haunted by the feeling that we were closely observed,though by whom or whence I could give no guess.
So strong was the impression that I told Professor Challenger of it,who put it down to the cerebral excitement caused by my fever. Againand again I glanced round swiftly, with the conviction that I was aboutto see something, but only to meet the dark tangle of our hedge or thesolemn and cavernous gloom of the great trees which arched above ourheads. And yet the feeling grew ever stronger in my own mind thatsomething observant and something malevolent was at our very elbow. Ithought of the Indian superstition of the Curupuri--the dreadful,lurking spirit of the woods--and I could have imagined that histerrible presence haunted those who had invaded his most remote andsacred retreat.
That night (our third in Maple White Land) we had an experience whichleft a fearful impression upon our minds, and made us thankful thatLord John had worked so hard in making our retreat impregnable. Wewere all sleeping round our dying fire when we were aroused--or,rather, I should say, shot out of our slumbers--by a succession of themost frightful cries and screams to which I have ever listened. I knowno sound to which I could compare this amazing tumult, which seemed tocome from some spot within a few hundred yards of our camp. It was asear-splitting as any whistle of a railway-engine; but whereas thewhistle is a clear, mechanical, sharp-edged sound, this was far deeperin volume and vibrant with the uttermost strain of agony and horror.We clapped our hands to our ears to shut out that nerve-shaking appeal.A cold sweat broke out over my body, and my heart turned sick at themisery of it. All the woes of tortured life, all its stupendousindictment of high heaven, its innumerable sorrows, seemed to becentered and condensed into that one dreadful, agonized cry. And then,under this high-pitched, ringing sound there was another, moreintermittent, a low, deep-chested laugh, a growling, throaty gurgle ofmerriment which formed a grotesque accompaniment to the shriek withwhich it was blended. For three or four minutes on end the fearsomeduet continued, while all the foliage rustled with the rising ofstartled birds. Then it shut off as suddenly as it began. For a longtime we sat in horrified silence. Then Lord John threw a bundle oftwigs upon the fire, and their red glare lit up the intent faces of mycompanions and flickered over the great boughs above our heads.
"What was it?" I whispered.
"We shall know in the morning," said Lord John. "It was close tous--not farther than the glade."
"We have been privileged to overhear a prehistoric tragedy, the sort ofdrama which occurred among the reeds upon the border of some Jurassiclagoon, when the greater dragon pinned the lesser among the slime,"said Challenger, with more solemnity than I had ever heard in hisvoice. "It was surely well for man that he came late in the order ofcreation. There were powers abroad in earlier days which no courageand no mechanism of his could have met. What could his sling, histhrowing-stick, or his arrow avail him against such forces as have beenloose to-night? Even with a modern rifle it would be all odds on themonster."
"I think I should back my little friend," said Lord John, caressing hisExpress. "But the beast would certainly have a good sporting chance."
Summerlee raised his hand.
"Hush!" he cried. "Surely I hear something?"
From the utter silence there emerged a deep, regular pat-pat. It wasthe tread of some animal--the rhythm of soft but heavy pads placedcautiously upon the ground. It stole slowly round the camp, and thenhalted near our gateway. There was a low, sibilant rise and fall--thebreathing of the creature. Only our feeble hedge separated us fromthis horror of the night. Each of us had seized his rifle, and LordJohn had pulled out a small bush to make an embrasure in the hedge.
"By George!" he whispered. "I think I can see it!"