I have
said--or perhaps I have not said,
for my memory plays me sad tricks
these days--that I glowed with
pride when three such men as
my comrades thanked me for having
saved, or at least greatly helped,
the situation. As the youngster
of the party, not merely in years,
but in experience, character,
knowledge, and all that goes
to make a man, I had been overshadowed
from the first. And now I was
coming into my own. I warmed
at the thought. Alas! for the
pride which goes before a fall!
That little glow of self-satisfaction,
that added measure of self-confidence,
were to lead me on that very
night to the most dreadful experience
of my life, ending with a shock
which turns my heart sick when
I
think of it.
It
came about
in this way.
I had been unduly excited by
the adventure of the tree, and
sleep seemed to be impossible.
Summerlee was on guard, sitting
hunched over our small fire,
a quaint, angular figure, his
rifle across his knees and his
pointed, goat-like beard wagging
with each weary nod of his head.
Lord John lay silent, wrapped
in the South American poncho
which he wore, while Challenger
snored with a roll and rattle
which reverberated through the
woods. The full moon was shining
brightly, and the air was crisply
cold. What a night for a walk!
And then suddenly came the thought, "Why
not?" Suppose I stole softly
away, suppose I made my way down
to the central lake, suppose
I was back at breakfast with
some record of the place-- would
I not in that case be thought
an even more worthy associate?
Then, if Summerlee carried the
day and some means of escape
were found, we should return
to London with first-hand knowledge
of the central mystery of the
plateau, to which I alone, of
all men, would have penetrated.
I thought of Gladys, with her "There
are heroisms all round us." I
seemed to hear her voice as she
said it. I thought also of McArdle.
What a three column article for
the paper! What a foundation
for a career! A correspondentship
in the next great war might be
within my reach. I clutched at
a gun--my pockets were full of
cartridges--and, parting the
thorn bushes at the gate of our
zareba, quickly slipped out.
My last glance showed me the
unconscious Summerlee, most futile
of sentinels, still nodding away
like a queer mechanical toy in
front of the smouldering fire.
I had not gone a hundred yards
before I deeply repented my rashness.
I may have said somewhere in
this chronicle that I am too
imaginative to be a really courageous
man, but that I have an overpowering
fear of seeming afraid. This
was the power which now carried
me onwards. I simply could not
slink back with nothing done.
Even if my comrades should not
have missed me, and should never
know of my weakness, there would
still remain some intolerable
self-shame in my own soul. And
yet I shuddered at the position
in which I found myself, and
would have given all I possessed
at that moment to have been honorably
free of the whole business.
It was dreadful in the forest.
The trees grew so thickly and
their foliage spread so widely
that I could see nothing of the
moon-light save that here and
there the high branches made
a tangled filigree against the
starry sky. As the eyes became
more used to the obscurity one
learned that there were different
degrees of darkness among the
trees--that some were dimly visible,
while between and among them
there were coal-black shadowed
patches, like the mouths of caves,
from which I shrank in horror
as I passed. I thought of the
despairing yell of the tortured
iguanodon--that dreadful cry
which had echoed through the
woods. I thought, too, of the
glimpse I had in the light of
Lord John's torch of that bloated,
warty, blood-slavering muzzle.
Even now I was on its hunting-ground.
At any instant it might spring
upon me from the shadows--this
nameless and horrible monster.
I stopped, and, picking a cartridge
from my pocket, I opened the
breech of my gun. As I touched
the lever my heart leaped within
me. It was the shot-gun, not
the rifle, which I had taken!
Again the impulse to return
swept over me. Here, surely,
was a most excellent reason for
my failure--one for which no
one would think the less of me.
But again the foolish pride fought
against that very word. I could
not--must not--fail. After all,
my rifle would probably have
been as useless as a shot-gun
against such dangers as I might
meet. If I were to go back to
camp to change my weapon I could
hardly expect to enter and to
leave again without being seen.
In that case there would be explanations,
and my attempt would no longer
be all my own. After a little
hesitation, then, I screwed up
my courage and continued upon
my way, my useless gun under
my arm.
The darkness of the forest
had been alarming, but even worse
was the white, still flood of
moonlight in the open glade of
the iguanodons. Hid among the
bushes, I looked out at it. None
of the great brutes were in sight.
Perhaps the tragedy which had
befallen one of them had driven
them from their feeding-ground.
In the misty, silvery night I
could see no sign of any living
thing. Taking courage, therefore,
I slipped rapidly across it,
and among the jungle on the farther
side I picked up once again the
brook which was my guide. It
was a cheery companion, gurgling
and chuckling as it ran, like
the dear old trout-stream in
the West Country where I have
fished at night in my boyhood.
So long as I followed it down
I must come to the lake, and
so long as I followed it back
I must come to the camp. Often
I had to lose sight of it on
account of the tangled brush-wood,
but I was always within earshot
of its tinkle and splash.
As one descended the slope
the woods became thinner, and
bushes, with occasional high
trees, took the place of the
forest. I could make good progress,
therefore, and I could see without
being seen. I passed close to
the pterodactyl swamp, and as
I did so, with a dry, crisp,
leathery rattle of wings, one
of these great creatures--it
was twenty feet at least from
tip to tip--rose up from somewhere
near me and soared into the air.
As it passed across the face
of the moon the light shone clearly
through the membranous wings,
and it looked like a flying skeleton
against the white, tropical radiance.
I crouched low among the bushes,
for I knew from past experience
that with a single cry the creature
could bring a hundred of its
loathsome mates about my ears.
It was not until it had settled
again that I dared to steal onwards
upon my journey.
The night had been exceedingly
still, but as I advanced I became
conscious of a low, rumbling
sound, a continuous murmur, somewhere
in front of me. This grew louder
as I proceeded, until at last
it was clearly quite close to
me. When I stood still the sound
was constant, so that it seemed
to come from some stationary
cause. It was like a boiling
kettle or the bubbling of some
great pot. Soon I came upon the
source of it, for in the center
of a small clearing I found a
lake--or a pool, rather, for
it was not larger than the basin
of the Trafalgar Square fountain--of
some black, pitch-like stuff,
the surface of which rose and
fell in great blisters of bursting
gas. The air above it was shimmering
with heat, and the ground round
was so hot that I could hardly
bear to lay my hand on it. It
was clear that the great volcanic
outburst which had raised this
strange plateau so many years
ago had not yet entirely spent
its forces. Blackened rocks and
mounds of lava I had already
seen everywhere peeping out from
amid the luxuriant vegetation
which draped them, but this asphalt
pool in the jungle was the first
sign that we had of actual existing
activity on the slopes of the
ancient crater. I had no time
to examine it further for I had
need to hurry if I were to be
back in camp in the morning.
It was a fearsome walk, and
one which will be with me so
long as memory holds. In the
great moonlight clearings I slunk
along among the shadows on the
margin. In the jungle I crept
forward, stopping with a beating
heart whenever I heard, as I
often did, the crash of breaking
branches as some wild beast went
past. Now and then great shadows
loomed up for an instant and
were gone--great, silent shadows
which seemed to prowl upon padded
feet. How often I stopped with
the intention of returning, and
yet every time my pride conquered
my fear, and sent me on again
until my object should be attained.
At last (my watch showed that
it was one in the morning) I
saw the gleam of water amid the
openings of the jungle, and ten
minutes later I was among the
reeds upon the borders of the
central lake. I was exceedingly
dry, so I lay down and took a
long draught of its waters, which
were fresh and cold. There was
a broad pathway with many tracks
upon it at the spot which I had
found, so that it was clearly
one of the drinking-places of
the animals. Close to the water's
edge there was a huge isolated
block of lava. Up this I climbed,
and, lying on the top, I had
an excellent view in every direction.
The first thing which I saw
filled me with amazement. When
I described the view from the
summit of the great tree, I said
that on the farther cliff I could
see a number of dark spots, which
appeared to be the mouths of
caves. Now, as I looked up at
the same cliffs, I saw discs
of light in every direction,
ruddy, clearly-defined patches,
like the port-holes of a liner
in the darkness. For a moment
I thought it was the lava-glow
from some volcanic action; but
this could not be so. Any volcanic
action would surely be down in
the hollow and not high among
the rocks. What, then, was the
alternative? It was wonderful,
and yet it must surely be. These
ruddy spots must be the reflection
of fires within the caves--fires
which could only be lit by the
hand of man. There were human
beings, then, upon the plateau.
How gloriously my expedition
was justified! Here was news
indeed for us to bear back with
us to London!
For a long time I lay and watched
these red, quivering blotches
of light. I suppose they were
ten miles off from me, yet even
at that distance one could observe
how, from time to time, they
twinkled or were obscured as
someone passed before them. What
would I not have given to be
able to crawl up to them, to
peep in, and to take back some
word to my comrades as to the
appearance and character of the
race who lived in so strange
a place! It was out of the question
for the moment, and yet surely
we could not leave the plateau
until we had some definite knowledge
upon the point.
Lake Gladys--my own lake--lay
like a sheet of quicksilver before
me, with a reflected moon shining
brightly in the center of it.
It was shallow, for in many places
I saw low sandbanks protruding
above the water. Everywhere upon
the still surface I could see
signs of life, sometimes mere
rings and ripples in the water,
sometimes the gleam of a great
silver-sided fish in the air,
sometimes the arched, slate-colored
back of some passing monster.
Once upon a yellow sandbank I
saw a creature like a huge swan,
with a clumsy body and a high,
flexible neck, shuffling about
upon the margin. Presently it
plunged in, and for some time
I could see the arched neck and
darting head undulating over
the water. Then it dived, and
I saw it no more.
My attention was soon drawn
away from these distant sights
and brought back to what was
going on at my very feet. Two
creatures like large armadillos
had come down to the drinking-place,
and were squatting at the edge
of the water, their long, flexible
tongues like red ribbons shooting
in and out as they lapped. A
huge deer, with branching horns,
a magnificent creature which
carried itself like a king, came
down with its doe and two fawns
and drank beside the armadillos.
No such deer exist anywhere else
upon earth, for the moose or
elks which I have seen would
hardly have reached its shoulders.
Presently it gave a warning snort,
and was off with its family among
the reeds, while the armadillos
also scuttled for shelter. A
new-comer, a most monstrous animal,
was coming down the path.
For a moment I wondered where
I could have seen that ungainly
shape, that arched back with
triangular fringes along it,
that strange bird-like head held
close to the ground. Then it
came back, to me. It was the
stegosaurus--the very creature
which Maple White had preserved
in his sketch-book, and which
had been the first object which
arrested the attention of Challenger!
There he was--perhaps the very
specimen which the American artist
had encountered. The ground shook
beneath his tremendous weight,
and his gulpings of water resounded
through the still night. For
five minutes he was so close
to my rock that by stretching
out my hand I could have touched
the hideous waving hackles upon
his back. Then he lumbered away
and was lost among the boulders.
Looking at my watch, I saw
that it was half-past two o'clock,
and high time, therefore, that
I started upon my homeward journey.
There was no difficulty about
the direction in which I should
return for all along I had kept
the little brook upon my left,
and it opened into the central
lake within a stone's-throw of
the boulder upon which I had
been lying. I set off, therefore,
in high spirits, for I felt that
I had done good work and was
bringing back a fine budget of
news for my companions. Foremost
of all, of course, were the sight
of the fiery caves and the certainty
that some troglodytic race inhabited
them. But besides that I could
speak from experience of the
central lake. I could testify
that it was full of strange creatures,
and I had seen several land forms
of primeval life which we had
not before encountered. I reflected
as I walked that few men in the
world could have spent a stranger
night or added more to human
knowledge in the course of it.
I was plodding up the slope,
turning these thoughts over in
my mind, and had reached a point
which may have been half-way
to home, when my mind was brought
back to my own position by a
strange noise behind me. It was
something between a snore and
a growl, low, deep, and exceedingly
menacing. Some strange creature
was evidently near me, but nothing
could be seen, so I hastened
more rapidly upon my way. I had
traversed half a mile or so when
suddenly the sound was repeated,
still behind me, but louder and
more menacing than before. My
heart stood still within me as
it flashed across me that the
beast, whatever it was, must
surely be after ME. My skin grew
cold and my hair rose at the
thought. That these monsters
should tear each other to pieces
was a part of the strange struggle
for existence, but that they
should turn upon modern man,
that they should deliberately
track and hunt down the predominant
human, was a staggering and fearsome
thought. I remembered again the
blood-beslobbered face which
we had seen in the glare of Lord
John's torch, like some horrible
vision from the deepest circle
of Dante's hell. With my knees
shaking beneath me, I stood and
glared with starting eyes down
the moonlit path which lay behind
me. All was quiet as in a dream
landscape. Silver clearings and
the black patches of the bushes--nothing
else could I see. Then from out
of the silence, imminent and
threatening, there came once
more that low, throaty croaking,
far louder and closer than before.
There could no longer be a doubt.
Something was on my trail, and
was closing in upon me every
minute.
I
stood like
a man paralyzed,
still staring at the ground which
I had traversed. Then suddenly
I saw it. There was movement
among the bushes at the far end
of the clearing which I had just
traversed. A great dark shadow
disengaged itself and hopped
out into the clear moonlight.
I say "hopped" advisedly, for
the beast moved like a kangaroo,
springing along in an erect position
upon its powerful hind legs,
while its front ones were held
bent in front of it. It was of
enormous size and power, like
an erect elephant, but its movements,
in spite of its bulk, were exceedingly
alert. For a moment, as I saw
its shape, I hoped that it was
an iguanodon, which I knew to
be harmless, but, ignorant as
I was, I soon saw that this was
a very different creature. Instead
of the gentle, deer-shaped head
of the great three-toed leaf-eater,
this beast had a broad, squat,
toad-like face like that which
had alarmed us in our camp. His
ferocious cry and the horrible
energy of his pursuit both assured
me that this was surely one of
the great flesh-eating dinosaurs,
the most terrible beasts which
have ever walked this earth.
As the huge brute loped along
it dropped forward upon its fore-paws
and brought its nose to the ground
every twenty yards or so. It
was smelling out my trail. Sometimes,
for an instant, it was at fault.
Then it would catch it up again
and come bounding swiftly along
the path I had taken.
Even now when I think of that
nightmare the sweat breaks out
upon my brow. What could I do?
My useless fowling-piece was
in my hand. What help could I
get from that? I looked desperately
round for some rock or tree,
but I was in a bushy jungle with
nothing higher than a sapling
within sight, while I knew that
the creature behind me could
tear down an ordinary tree as
though it were a reed. My only
possible chance lay in flight.
I could not move swiftly over
the rough, broken ground, but
as I looked round me in despair
I saw a well-marked, hard-beaten
path which ran across in front
of me. We had seen several of
the sort, the runs of various
wild beasts, during our expeditions.
Along this I could perhaps hold
my own, for I was a fast runner,
and in excellent condition. Flinging
away my useless gun, I set myself
to do such a half-mile as I have
never done before or since. My
limbs ached, my chest heaved,
I felt that my throat would burst
for want of air, and yet with
that horror behind me I ran and
I ran and ran. At last I paused,
hardly able to move. For a moment
I thought that I had thrown him
off. The path lay still behind
me. And then suddenly, with a
crashing and a rending, a thudding
of giant feet and a panting of
monster lungs the beast was upon
me once more. He was at my very
heels. I was lost.
Madman that I was to linger
so long before I fled! Up to
then he had hunted by scent,
and his movement was slow. But
he had actually seen me as I
started to run. From then onwards
he had hunted by sight, for the
path showed him where I had gone.
Now, as he came round the curve,
he was springing in great bounds.
The moonlight shone upon his
huge projecting eyes, the row
of enormous teeth in his open
mouth, and the gleaming fringe
of claws upon his short, powerful
forearms. With a scream of terror
I turned and rushed wildly down
the path. Behind me the thick,
gasping breathing of the creature
sounded louder and louder. His
heavy footfall was beside me.
Every instant I expected to feel
his grip upon my back. And then
suddenly there came a crash--I
was falling through space, and
everything beyond was darkness
and rest.
As I emerged from my unconsciousness--which
could not, I think, have lasted
more than a few minutes--I was
aware of a most dreadful and
penetrating smell. Putting out
my hand in the darkness I came
upon something which felt like
a huge lump of meat, while my
other hand closed upon a large
bone. Up above me there was a
circle of starlit sky, which
showed me that I was lying at
the bottom of a deep pit. Slowly
I staggered to my feet and felt
myself all over. I was stiff
and sore from head to foot, but
there was no limb which would
not move, no joint which would
not bend. As the circumstances
of my fall came back into my
confused brain, I looked up in
terror, expecting to see that
dreadful head silhouetted against
the paling sky. There was no
sign of the monster, however,
nor could I hear any sound from
above. I began to walk slowly
round, therefore, feeling in
every direction to find out what
this strange place could be into
which I had been so opportunely
precipitated.
It was, as I have said, a pit,
with sharply-sloping walls and
a level bottom about twenty feet
across. This bottom was littered
with great gobbets of flesh,
most of which was in the last
state of putridity. The atmosphere
was poisonous and horrible. After
tripping and stumbling over these
lumps of decay, I came suddenly
against something hard, and I
found that an upright post was
firmly fixed in the center of
the hollow. It was so high that
I could not reach the top of
it with my hand, and it appeared
to be covered with grease.
Suddenly I remembered that
I had a tin box of wax-vestas
in my pocket. Striking one of
them, I was able at last to form
some opinion of this place into
which I had fallen. There could
be no question as to its nature.
It was a trap--made by the hand
of man. The post in the center,
some nine feet long, was sharpened
at the upper end, and was black
with the stale blood of the creatures
who had been impaled upon it.
The remains scattered about were
fragments of the victims, which
had been cut away in order to
clear the stake for the next
who might blunder in. I remembered
that Challenger had declared
that man could not exist upon
the plateau, since with his feeble
weapons he could not hold his
own against the monsters who
roamed over it. But now it was
clear enough how it could be
done. In their narrow-mouthed
caves the natives, whoever they
might be, had refuges into which
the huge saurians could not penetrate,
while with their developed brains
they were capable of setting
such traps, covered with branches,
across the paths which marked
the run of the animals as would
destroy them in spite of all
their strength and activity.
Man was always the master.
The sloping wall of the pit
was not difficult for an active
man to climb, but I hesitated
long before I trusted myself
within reach of the dreadful
creature which had so nearly
destroyed me. How did I know
that he was not lurking in the
nearest clump of bushes, waiting
for my reappearance? I took heart,
however, as I recalled a conversation
between Challenger and Summerlee
upon the habits of the great
saurians. Both were agreed that
the monsters were practically
brainless, that there was no
room for reason in their tiny
cranial cavities, and that if
they have disappeared from the
rest of the world it was assuredly
on account of their own stupidity,
which made it impossible for
them to adapt themselves to changing
conditions.
To lie in wait for me now would
mean that the creature had appreciated
what had happened to me, and
this in turn would argue some
power connecting cause and effect.
Surely it was more likely that
a brainless creature, acting
solely by vague predatory instinct,
would give up the chase when
I disappeared, and, after a pause
of astonishment, would wander
away in search of some other
prey? I clambered to the edge
of the pit and looked over. The
stars were fading, the sky was
whitening, and the cold wind
of morning blew pleasantly upon
my face. I could see or hear
nothing of my enemy. Slowly I
climbed out and sat for a while
upon the ground, ready to spring
back into my refuge if any danger
should appear. Then, reassured
by the absolute stillness and
by the growing light, I took
my courage in both hands and
stole back along the path which
I had come. Some distance down
it I picked up my gun, and shortly
afterwards struck the brook which
was my guide. So, with many a
frightened backward glance, I
made for home.
And suddenly there came something
to remind me of my absent companions.
In the clear, still morning air
there sounded far away the sharp,
hard note of a single rifle-shot.
I paused and listened, but there
was nothing more. For a moment
I was shocked at the thought
that some sudden danger might
have befallen them. But then
a simpler and more natural explanation
came to my mind. It was now broad
daylight. No doubt my absence
had been noticed. They had imagined,
that I was lost in the woods,
and had fired this shot to guide
me home. It is true that we had
made a strict resolution against
firing, but if it seemed to them
that I might be in danger they
would not hesitate. It was for
me now to hurry on as fast as
possible, and so to reassure
them.
I was weary and spent, so my
progress was not so fast as I
wished; but at last I came into
regions which I knew. There was
the swamp of the pterodactyls
upon my left; there in front
of me was the glade of the iguanodons.
Now I was in the last belt of
trees which separated me from
Fort Challenger. I raised my
voice in a cheery shout to allay
their fears. No answering greeting
came back to me. My heart sank
at that ominous stillness. I
quickened my pace into a run.
The zareba rose before me, even
as I had left it, but the gate
was open. I rushed in. In the
cold, morning light it was a
fearful sight which met my eyes.
Our effects were scattered in
wild confusion over the ground;
my comrades had disappeared,
and close to the smouldering
ashes of our fire the grass was
stained crimson with a hideous
pool of blood.
I was so stunned by this sudden
shock that for a time I must
have nearly lost my reason. I
have a vague recollection, as
one remembers a bad dream, of
rushing about through the woods
all round the empty camp, calling
wildly for my companions. No
answer came back from the silent
shadows. The horrible thought
that I might never see them again,
that I might find myself abandoned
all alone in that dreadful place,
with no possible way of descending
into the world below, that I
might live and die in that nightmare
country, drove me to desperation.
I could have torn my hair and
beaten my head in my despair.
Only now did I realize how I
had learned to lean upon my companions,
upon the serene self-confidence
of Challenger, and upon the masterful,
humorous coolness of Lord John
Roxton. Without them I was like
a child in the dark, helpless
and powerless. I did not know
which way to turn or what I should
do first.
After a period, during which
I sat in bewilderment, I set
myself to try and discover what
sudden misfortune could have
befallen my companions. The whole
disordered appearance of the
camp showed that there had been
some sort of attack, and the
rifle- shot no doubt marked the
time when it had occurred. That
there should have been only one
shot showed that it had been
all over in an instant. The rifles
still lay upon the ground, and
one of them--Lord John's--had
the empty cartridge in the breech.
The blankets of Challenger and
of Summerlee beside the fire
suggested that they had been
asleep at the time. The cases
of ammunition and of food were
scattered about in a wild litter,
together with our unfortunate
cameras and plate-carriers, but
none of them were missing. On
the other hand, all the exposed
provisions--and I remembered
that there were a considerable
quantity of them--were gone.
They were animals, then, and
not natives, who had made the
inroad, for surely the latter
would have left nothing behind.
But if animals, or some single
terrible animal, then what had
become of my comrades? A ferocious
beast would surely have destroyed
them and left their remains.
It is true that there was that
one hideous pool of blood, which
told of violence. Such a monster
as had pursued me during the
night could have carried away
a victim as easily as a cat would
a mouse. In that case the others
would have followed in pursuit.
But then they would assuredly
have taken their rifles with
them. The more I tried to think
it out with my confused and weary
brain the less could I find any
plausible explanation. I searched
round in the forest, but could
see no tracks which could help
me to a conclusion. Once I lost
myself, and it was only by good
luck, and after an hour of wandering,
that I found the camp once more.
Suddenly a thought came to
me and brought some little comfort
to my heart. I was not absolutely
alone in the world. Down at the
bottom of the cliff, and within
call of me, was waiting the faithful
Zambo. I went to the edge of
the plateau and looked over.
Sure enough, he was squatting
among his blankets beside his
fire in his little camp. But,
to my amazement, a second man
was seated in front of him. For
an instant my heart leaped for
joy, as I thought that one of
my comrades had made his way
safely down. But a second glance
dispelled the hope. The rising
sun shone red upon the man's
skin. He was an Indian. I shouted
loudly and waved my handkerchief.
Presently Zambo looked up, waved
his hand, and turned to ascend
the pinnacle. In a short time
he was standing close to me and
listening with deep distress
to the story which I told him.
"Devil got them for sure, Massa
Malone," said he. "You got into
the devil's country, sah, and
he take you all to himself. You
take advice, Massa Malone, and
come down quick, else he get
you as well."
"How
can I come
down, Zambo?"
"You
get creepers
from trees,
Massa Malone. Throw them over
here. I make fast to this stump,
and so you have bridge."
"We
have thought
of that. There
are no creepers here which could
bear us."
"Send
for ropes,
Massa Malone."
"Who
can I send,
and where?"
"Send
to Indian villages,
sah. Plenty
hide rope in
Indian village.
Indian down below; send him."
"Who
is he?
"One
of our Indians.
Other ones
beat him and
take away his
pay. He come back to us. Ready
now to take letter, bring rope,--anything."
To take a letter! Why not?
Perhaps he might bring help;
but in any case he would ensure
that our lives were not spent
for nothing, and that news of
all that we had won for Science
should reach our friends at home.
I had two completed letters already
waiting. I would spend the day
in writing a third, which would
bring my experiences absolutely
up to date. The Indian could
bear this back to the world.
I ordered Zambo, therefore, to
come again in the evening, and
I spent my miserable and lonely
day in recording my own adventures
of the night before. I also drew
up a note, to be given to any
white merchant or captain of
a steam-boat whom the Indian
could find, imploring them to
see that ropes were sent to us,
since our lives must depend upon
it. These documents I threw to
Zambo in the evening, and also
my purse, which contained three
English sovereigns. These were
to be given to the Indian, and
he was promised twice as much
if he returned with the ropes.
So now you will understand,
my dear Mr. McArdle, how this
communication reaches you, and
you will also know the truth,
in case you never hear again
from your unfortunate correspondent.
To-night I am too weary and too
depressed to make my plans. To-morrow
I must think out some way by
which I shall keep in touch with
this camp, and yet search round
for any traces of my unhappy
friends.
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