THE CLERK OF THE WEATHER LAYS A TRAP
“You see, it’s Pyramid Land we have to reach now,” explained Coppertop.
“That’s where the mummies and sacred cats come from!” cried Tibbs. “And
Arab steeds, and Bedouins! We shall have a ripping time there!”
“’Es, it will be beautiful if there are lots of Mummies. We can have
one each, and heaps of cuddles!” cried Kiddiwee.
“Oh, they’re not that kind,” explained his brother. “They’re not like
Celia’s mummie. These mummies are all dried up, and yellow, and wrapt
up in thousands of bandages.”
“Well, there’s not much difference--’cept the bandages,” said Kiddiwee.
“Oh! You’re very, very, very rude!” cried Coppertop. “Mummie may be a
little wee bit thin and sunburnt, but people from India are all like
that, and she’s beautiful underneath.”
There was an uncomfortable silence after this. Then Tibbs said--
“Well, come on, you people! There’s no time to lose. Let’s make a
start.”
“But which way do we go?” asked Coppertop, screwing up her eyes with a
puzzled expression.
“Oh, I know the way,” said Tibbs. “Just follow me.”
And off they flew, their wings glinting in the bright sunlight.
They passed over a wide desert, and reached a long, blue river, on the
banks of which were the ruins of old, old cities.
“What lovely ruins!” said Coppertop. “They’re too lovely for words! I
do love old things!”
“Just look at that huge person!” she cried, pointing to a gigantic
stone figure, standing on guard at the entrance to an ancient temple.
“I expect that is older than--older than----”
“Mummie!” suggested Kiddiwee.
“Oh, millions of times!” laughed Coppertop. “Mummie isn’t so very old.”
As they were passing by a sudden breeze sprang up--a spiteful, waspish
breeze--that flattened their wings against their backs, making it
difficult to fly; and it blew the sand up into clouds.
And as it whistled round the great stone figure they distinctly heard a
voice say:
“Come inside!
Come inside!
I have wonderful treasures,
Such gems and such jewels!
Come, see them, I pray.
And if you will venture,
I have--for the asking--
That which you are seeking,
A December day!”
“Did you hear that?” cried Coppertop, hardly able to believe her ears.
“Our December day at last! Oh, how splendid!”
“It’s a funny place to keep it,” said Tibbs doubtfully.
“’Es, it is!” agreed Kiddiwee; “a dark old place, I ’spect.”
“But we must go down and see,” urged Coppertop, her eyes sparkling.
“All right,” assented Tibbs; “it’ll be rather fun exploring, anyway.”
So they flew down. And close to the ground, between the feet of the
stone figure, they found a crumbling doorway.
With beating hearts, they entered.
* * * * *
“It’s getting darkerer and darkerer!” cried Kiddiwee, in an awed voice.
“I shouldn’t be surprised if we come across some snakes!” exclaimed
Tibbs. “Better look where you’re going, Celia!”
“I can’t see! And I ’spect I’ll tread on one if it gets any darkerer,”
piped Kiddiwee.
They had come to the head of some old, half-ruined steps leading down
to a dark passageway.
“It’s an awful risk,” said Tibbs, hesitatingly; “I don’t care about
myself--but you two kids!”
“Oh, no! _Do_ let’s go on!” cried Coppertop. “There may be something
frightfully old and mysterious down there. I’ll go alone if you’re
afraid.”
That settled it! To be taunted by a mere girl was too much for Tibbs,
and taking Kiddiwee by the hand, he descended the steps.
It was now so dark that they had to feel their way along the wall, and
once or twice they stumbled over the uneven flooring. On one occasion
their blood went cold at the sound of a venomous hiss! And “something”
brushed against Coppertop’s legs.
After walking along this passage for what seemed to be a very long way,
Tibbs said breathlessly--
“I say! This passage is going down hill! We shall be miles underground,
soon. I don’t believe there is a December day down here, or any other
day. We have been done!”
“But the voice did ask us to come in, didn’t it?” said Coppertop.
“Yes. But whose voice was it? It sounded to me very much like the Clerk
of the Weather.”
“It’s dreadful if it was!” panted Coppertop. “Whatever shall we do?”
“Nothing to do but go on, now,” said Tibbs; “we don’t know the way
back--and perhaps it’s all right,” he added, seeing how scared they
both were.
There was something so mysterious and awful about this dark, down-hill
passage, that they all became quite silent, and only the sound of their
stumbling steps and quick breathing could be heard.
“If you take my advice, my dears,” came the familiar voice of their old
friend, “you’ll turn back.”
“You’ll never find what you are seeking down there,” he added; “and
even if Amon Ra had one to spare he’d never part with it. He dislikes
foreigners. Take my advice and turn back. You’re near his temple now.”
“Oh, we can’t turn back now!” cried Coppertop. “I’ve never seen Amon
Ra. He’s the Sun God. Daddy told me about him. We must go on.”
“Well, I’m going on, for one,” agreed Tibbs.
“’Es, so am I!” echoed Kiddiwee, although his voice trembled.
“Australian--very Australian!” sighed Mr. Atom, and left them to their
fate.
After groping along a little further, the children turned a sharp
corner and found themselves within a vast chamber.
There were huge pillars on one side, and massive blocks of carved stone
on the other. The place was lit by a strange glow which fell between
the pillars, throwing their long shadows across the tiled floor.
“Oh, dear! My wings have gone!” gasped Coppertop, for they had vanished
the moment she entered the chamber; “I wish I had not been so curious
and stupid as to come here!”
“_Look!_” cried Tibbs, in a thrilled voice.
Motionless, they all three turned their eyes to the far end of the
chamber.
A golden disk appeared out of the dim shadows which hid the top of the
columns; it spun in mid-air, growing brighter and brighter till it
shone like the sun itself. Then from the tiled floor under it came two
coils of bluish vapour floating up toward the golden sun-disk. As they
reached it there came a strange sound, like a mighty whisper, which
filled the chamber.
Then, slowly, from behind this veil of vapour, the children beheld a
mighty figure appearing.
“It’s Amon Ra!” cried Tibbs, in a husky voice, through his dry lips.
Coppertop fell to her knees, and buried her face in her hands. But
Tibbs, although rather shaken, faced him boldly. And Kiddiwee actually
ran toward Amon Ra fearlessly, attracted by the bright sun-disk which
shone in his forehead.
“Foolish ones!” said Amon Ra in a mighty voice, deep and melodious as
the thunder of an organ. “Why have you ventured here? You who have
dared to kill a sacred crocodile!”
“If--if you please, sir!” said Tibbs, keeping his voice as steady as he
could, “we didn’t kill him! He swallowed us, and the poison from the
Bushmen’s arrows settled in his tail--and so--he pegged out!”
“Pegged out?” repeated Amon Ra.
“Well, died,” explained Tibbs.
“That is not true!” thundered Amon Ra, in a voice that made the stone
blocks tremble and the pillars sway; “the Clerk of the Weather told me
otherwise!”
“The sneak!” broke out Tibbs, between his clenched teeth.
[Illustration: Tibbs and Kiddiwee escape from the Crocodile (p. 87).]
“Silence!” roared the Sun God. “You shall be punished for this. BEGONE!”
As he uttered these words, a fierce hurricane swept through the
chamber, carrying the children off their feet, and whirling them away!
And the last thing they were conscious of was the spiteful laughter
of the Clerk of the Weather ringing in their ears as they were blown
along.