CHAPTER IX "Who could have Foreseen it?"

fromunderhisfeetandvanishedamongthetrees. Summerleewasthesecond.Hiswiryenergyiswonderfulinsofrailaframe.Heinsisteduponhavingtworiflesslunguponhisback,sothatbothProfessorswerearmedwhenhehadmadehistransit.Icamenext,andtriedhardnottolookdownintothehorriblegulfoverwhichIwaspassing.Summerleeheldoutthebutt-endofhisrifle,andaninstantlaterIwasabletograsphishand.AstoLordJohn,hewalkedacross—actuallywalkedwithoutsupport!Hemusthavenervesofiron. Andtherewewere,thefourofus,uponthedreamland,thelostworld,ofMapleWhite.Toallofusitseemedthemomentofoursupremetriumph.Whocouldhaveguessedthatitwasthepreludetooursupremedisaster?Letmesayinafewwordshowthecrushingblowfelluponus. Wehadturnedawayfromtheedge,andhadpenetratedaboutfiftyyardsofclosebrushwood,whentherecameafrightfulrendingcrashfrombehindus.Withoneimpulsewerushedbackthewaythatwehadcome.Thebridgewasgone! FardownatthebaseofthecliffIsaw,asIlookedover,atangledmassofbranchesandsplinteredtrunk.Itwasourbeechtree.Hadtheedgeoftheplatformcrumbledandletitthrough?Foramomentthisexplanationwasinallourminds.Thenext,fromthefarthersideoftherockypinnaclebeforeusaswarthyface,thefaceofGomezthehalf-breed,wasslowlyprotruded.Yes,itwasGomez,butnolongertheGomezofthedemuresmileandthemask-likeexpression.Herewasafacewithflashingeyesanddistortedfeatures,afaceconvulsedwithhatredandwiththemadjoyofgratifiedrevenge. "LordRoxton!"heshouted."LordJohnRoxton!" "Well,"saidourcompanion,"hereIam." Ashriekoflaughtercameacrosstheabyss. "Yes,thereyouare,youEnglishdog,andthereyouwillremain!Ihavewaitedandwaited,andnowhascomemychance.Youfoundithardtogetupyouwillfindithardertogetdown.Youcursedfools,youaretrapped,everyoneofyou!" Weweretooastoundedtospeak.Wecouldonlystandtherestaringinamazement.Agreatbrokenboughuponthegrassshowedwhencehehadgainedhisleveragetotiltoverourbridge.Thefacehadvanished,butpresentlyitwasupagain,morefranticthanbefore. "Wenearlykilledyouwithastoneatthecave,"hecried"butthisisbetter.Itisslowerandmoreterrible.Yourboneswillwhitenupthere,andnonewillknowwhereyoulieorcometocoverthem.Asyouliedying,thinkofLopez,whomyoushotfiveyearsagoonthePutomayoRiver.Iamhisbrother,and,comewhatwillIwilldiehappynow,forhismemoryhasbeenavenged."Afurioushandwasshakenatus,andthenallwasquiet. Hadthehalf-breedsimplywroughthisvengeanceandthenescaped,allmighthavebeenwellwithhim.Itwasthatfoolish,irresistibleLatinimpulsetobedramaticwhichbroughthisowndownfall.Roxton,themanwhohadearnedhimselfthenameoftheFlailoftheLordthroughthreecountries,wasnotonewhocouldbesafelytaunted.Thehalf-breedwasdescendingonthefarthersideofthepinnaclebutbeforehecouldreachthegroundLordJohnhadrunalongtheedgeoftheplateauandgainedapointfromwhichhecouldseehisman.Therewasasinglecrackofhisrifle,and,thoughwesawnothing,weheardthescreamandthenthedistantthudofthefallingbody.Roxtoncamebacktouswithafaceofgranite. "Ihavebeenablindsimpleton,"saidhe,bitterly,"It'smyfollythathasbroughtyouallintothistrouble.Ishouldhaverememberedthatthesepeoplehavelongmemoriesforblood-feuds,andhavebeenmoreuponmyguard." "Whatabouttheotherone?Ittooktwoofthemtoleverthattreeovertheedge." "Icouldhaveshothim,butIlethimgo.Hemayhavehadnopartinit.PerhapsitwouldhavebeenbetterifIhadkilledhim,forhemust,asyousay,havelentahand." Nowthatwehadthecluetohisaction,eachofuscouldcastbackandremembersomesinisteractuponthepartofthehalf-breed—hisconstantdesiretoknowourplans,hisarrestoutsideourtentwhenhewasover-hearingthem,thefurtivelooksofhatredwhichfromtimetotimeoneorotherofushadsurprised.Wewerestilldiscussingit,endeavoringtoadjustourmindstothesenewconditions,whenasingularsceneintheplainbelowarrestedourattention. Amaninwhiteclothes,whocouldonlybethesurvivinghalf-breed,wasrunningasonedoesrunwhenDeathisthepacemaker.Behindhim,onlyafewyardsinhisrear,boundedthehugeebonyfigureofZambo,ourdevotednegro.Evenaswelooked,hespranguponthebackofthefugitiveandflunghisarmsroundhisneck.Theyrolledonthegroundtogether.AninstantafterwardsZamborose,lookedattheprostrateman,andthen,wavinghishandjoyouslytous,camerunninginourdirection.Thewhitefigurelaymotionlessinthemiddleofthegreatplain. Ourtwotraitorshadbeendestroyed,butthemischiefthattheyhaddonelivedafterthem.Bynopossiblemeanscouldwegetbacktothepinnacle.Wehadbeennativesoftheworldnowwewerenativesoftheplateau.Thetwothingswereseparateandapart.Therewastheplainwhichledtothecanoes.Yonder,beyondtheviolet,hazyhorizon,wasthestreamwhichledbacktocivilization.Butthelinkbetweenwasmissing.Nohumaningenuitycouldsuggestameansofbridgingthechasmwhichyawnedbetweenourselvesandourpastlives.Oneinstanthadalteredthewholeconditionsofourexistence. ItwasatsuchamomentthatIlearnedthestuffofwhichmythreecomradeswerecomposed.Theyweregrave,itistrue,andthoughtful,butofaninvincibleserenity.ForthemomentwecouldonlysitamongthebushesinpatienceandwaitthecomingofZambo.PresentlyhishonestblackfacetoppedtherocksandhisHerculeanfigureemergeduponthetopofthepinnacle. "WhatIdonow?"hecried."YoutellmeandIdoit." Itwasaquestionwhichitwaseasiertoaskthantoanswer.Onethingonlywasclear.Hewasouronetrustylinkwiththeoutsideworld.Onnoaccountmustheleaveus. "Nono!"hecried."Inotleaveyou.Whatevercome,youalwaysfindmehere.ButnoabletokeepIndians.AlreadytheysaytoomuchCurupuriliveonthisplace,andtheygohome.Nowyouleavethemmenoabletokeepthem." ItwasafactthatourIndianshadshowninmanywaysoflatethattheywerewearyoftheirjourneyandanxioustoreturn.WerealizedthatZambospokethetruth,andthatitwouldbeimpossibleforhimtokeepthem. "Makethemwaittillto-morrow,Zambo,"Ishouted"thenIcansendletterbackbythem." "Verygood,sarr!Ipromisetheywaittillto-morrow,"saidthenegro."ButwhatIdoforyounow?" Therewasplentyforhimtodo,andadmirablythefaithfulfellowdidit.Firstofall,underourdirections,heundidtheropefromthetree-stumpandthrewoneendofitacrosstous.Itwasnotthickerthanaclothes-line,butitwasofgreatstrength,andthoughwecouldnotmakeabridgeofit,wemightwellfinditinvaluableifwehadanyclimbingtodo.Hethenfastenedhisendoftheropetothepackageofsupplieswhichhadbeencarriedup,andwewereabletodragitacross.Thisgaveusthemeansoflifeforatleastaweek,evenifwefoundnothingelse.Finallyhedescendedandcarrieduptwootherpacketsofmixedgoods—aboxofammunitionandanumberofotherthings,allofwhichwegotacrossbythrowingourropetohimandhaulingitback.Itwaseveningwhenheatlastclimbeddown,withafinalassurancethathewouldkeeptheIndianstillnextmorning. AndsoitisthatIhavespentnearlythewholeofthisourfirstnightupontheplateauwritingupourexperiencesbythelightofasinglecandle-lantern. Wesuppedandcampedattheveryedgeofthecliff,quenchingourthirstwithtwobottlesofApollinariswhichwereinoneofthecases.Itisvitaltoustofindwater,butIthinkevenLordJohnhimselfhadhadadventuresenoughforoneday,andnoneofusfeltinclinedtomakethefirstpushintotheunknown.Weforboretolightafireortomakeanyunnecessarysound. To-morrow(orto-day,rather,foritisalreadydawnasIwrite)weshallmakeourfirstventureintothisstrangeland.WhenIshallbeabletowriteagain—orifIevershallwriteagain—Iknownot.Meanwhile,IcanseethattheIndiansarestillintheirplace,andIamsurethatthefaithfulZambowillbeherepresentlytogetmyletter.Ionlytrustthatitwillcometohand. P.S.—ThemoreIthinkthemoredesperatedoesourpositionseem.Iseenopossiblehopeofourreturn.Iftherewereahightreeneartheedgeoftheplateauwemightdropareturnbridgeacross,butthereisnonewithinfiftyyards.Ourunitedstrengthcouldnotcarryatrunkwhichwouldserveourpurpose.Therope,ofcourse,isfartooshortthatwecoulddescendbyit.No,ourpositionishopeless—hopeless!