IN STRANGE LANDS
Dave and his boy friends had no cause to regret their meeting with
Adrianoffski. Their stay at the trading station, brief as it was, had
given new impetus and encouragement to the expedition. The Russian gave
them points as to their route that enabled them to save time and
distance. Besides that, he named places where they might stop and be
assured of friendly and helpful service from his agents.
“I tell you, meeting Mr. Adrianoffski was fine luck,” said Hiram,
enthusiastically, one morning, as they started up for the day’s flight.
“We are pretty sure to reach Lhassa without much trouble; aren’t we,
Dave?”
“To reach its vicinity, you mean,” corrected the young airman. “I am
greatly depending on this Ben Mahanond Adasse to whom our Russian friend
has directed us.”
They had left the severe wintry blasts behind them two days flight out
of Mokiva. While the weather was not at all summery, the milder climate
as they proceeded southward was in pleasing contrast to what they had
endured in the bleak and barren solitude of Siberia.
So far everything had gone pretty close to the schedule the pilot of the
_Comet_ had laid out when they left Washington. They reached stations as
planned. There was no trouble in securing gasoline and other supply
stores. Then, too, there were pleasant breaks in their arduous flights.
The ring Adrianoffski had given Dave acted magically when shown at
depots along the route to which he had directed him.
It was at Kolyvan that a full day’s stop had to be made. There were some
machine repairs necessary. Through telegrams and newspapers the airship
boys were able to glean some information as to their competitors in the
race. Out of the twelve that had started only four had reached Sitka.
The closest rival was machine number seven, reported at that point six
hours after the _Comet_ had left.
The machine crossed Thibetan territory about noon time. Dave was able to
determine this from charts, points given by Adrianoffski, and the
contour of the district. It was an interesting panorama they viewed all
the rest of that day. They passed over great camel trains traversing the
barren plains. They had a chance to see the native yaks, trained to
perform all the duties of horses. The extensive lamaseries, or
monasteries, some of them built on the very apex of well-nigh
inaccessible cliffs, amazed them.
The _Comet_ was viewed by gaping groups whenever they passed over a
settlement. Dave had a town called Zirva for his evening destination. It
was near here that Ben Mahanond Adasse had his trading station. The
young air pilot calculated upon arriving after dark. It might interfere
with his plans to have the _Comet_ publicly seen so near to the sacred
city of mystery.
“Judging from the landmarks described by Mr. Adrianoffski,” said Dave,
towards the middle of the afternoon, “I think we are quite near to
Zirva.”
“That is the trading post of his partner?” spoke Hiram.
“Yes,” nodded the young aviator. “Those glittering spires and domes in
the distance must be Lhassa. We must look for a secure and secluded
landing place.”
This they found soon afterwards. It was at the edge of a rugged hill.
Beyond it were some straggling settlements, but the _Comet_ was screened
from these as it approached the hill from the east.
“I don’t care about attracting the attention of the natives,” explained
our hero. “They are quite fanatical, and have probably never seen an
airship before. They might think it some demon of the air, or an
infernal machine come to destroy their gods and temples.”
“Yes, I think myself we had better keep in the background as much as we
can,” agreed Hiram. “It would be a pity to have a mishap now, with the
hardest part of the route covered.”
“But how are you going to locate this Adasse?” inquired Elmer.
“According to what Mr. Adrianoffski told us,” replied Dave, “his station
cannot be more than a few miles from here.”
“What’s your plan about finding him, Dave?” asked Hiram.
“Why, as soon as it gets dusk I will venture down into the valley there.
You two will stay here on guard. Keep ready for a quick flight, if any
of the natives discover the machine.”
The trio enjoyed the luxury of a grateful rest on the ground while they
conversed. Hiram, speedy to recuperate and always active, strolled away
from his comrades. He looked out over the country. Then he became
interested in watching a man just below the point where the _Comet_ had
landed.
“Say fellows,” he observed briskly, coming back to his friends; “if you
want to see something queer just take a peep over the edge of that rock
yonder.”
“What is it, Hiram?” inquired Elmer.
“You have to come with me to find out,” was the reply. “I can’t imagine
what a funny old fellow down below there is up to.”
“All right, we’ll take a look,” said Dave.
“There he is,” pronounced Hiram, after the others had followed him a
little distance, and he pointed past a shelving rock.
On the level of the valley below a native was squatted before a flat
boulder. He held in his hand a comical metal object with an ivory
handle. He seemed turning the handle. The boys, even at the distance
they were, could hear a click-clack sound, apparently proceeding from
the device.
“Say, whatever is that contraption?” asked the puzzled Hiram.
“Looks like a cross between a nutmeg grater and a music box,” suggested
Elmer.
Dave ventured no opinion. Like the others he continued to watch the
curious pantomime of the native. The lips of the man moved incessantly,
making a dull monotonous drone. Finally he placed the device on the
stove before him and closed his eyes.
His body swayed and he flung his arms aloft. Then he bent his forehead
clear to the ground. All the time he kept up a steady monotone.
Finally he arose to his feet and picked up a knapsack and a long,
sharp-pointed spear. He was about to resume his way. Just then a huge
bird resembling an eagle, only snowy white, sailed down from a tree on
the hillside. It swooped over the boulder and made a peck at its
surface. The next moment it soared aloft, the trinket in its bill.
The native uttered a wild, frantic shriek. Of a sudden he was transposed
into a being denuded of reason. As the bird flew up over the crest of
the hill, the man cast himself prostrate on the ground; writhing there
in agony. Beating his head with his hands, his face distorted, he acted
like some person in a fit.
“Well, that’s something odd to see,” began Hiram—“what is it, Dave?”
The young airman had watched the course of the thieving bird, eagle,
macaw, crow, or whatever it was. He saw the bird sail along until its
glance fell upon the biplane. Then it dropped to one of the wings. The
bauble retained in its bill, it walked over to one of the seats, dropped
its prize, and began pecking at the seat cushions.
Our hero was on his feet in an instant of time. He ran towards the
machine, intent on scaring away the predatory intruder. Dave had picked
up a stick. This he hurled at the bird. It gave a sullen croak and took
to wing, disappearing on the other side of the hill.
The young airman was curious and interested enough to lean over into the
body of the machine and secure the object dropped by the bird. He was
viewing it critically and with some comprehension of its use, when his
comrades joined him.
“What is it, Dave?” queried Hiram eagerly. “That old fellow below yonder
is tearing up the ground and rolling all about in a fearful fashion.”
“I know what it is,” pronounced Dave, “and I think we had better get it
back to its owner and save some mischief for him. This is what is called
a prayer mill. See, this handle turns a silken scroll on a reel all
covered with queer-looking characters. These represent the prayers the
Thibetans make to their great idol, Da-Fan-Jan. The priests supply them
to the worshippers. They are highly prized. I have read about them, and
have seen pictures of these queer prayer mills, as they call them.”
“You’re not going down there to give it back to the native; are you?”
asked Hiram; in some surprise, as Dave looked about him to discover the
easiest way of descending the hillside.
“Yes, I think I had better,” was the reply. “You don’t know how these
superstitious people value such charms. This prayer mill may have been
cherished in that man’s family for centuries. It is regarded an
heirloom, and the person losing it probably thinks he is condemned if he
does not recover it.”
Our hero hurried his steps. Descending the hillside alone he chanced to
glance at the native. The man had now arisen to his feet. All his
violent manner had disappeared. His face wore a look of sullen despair.
He had taken his spear and fastened its end stoutly under an edge of the
boulder in a slanting position. Its keen point showed breast high. The
man had retreated some twenty feet. There he stood posed for a run. Dave
recalled something he had read of the hari-kari of the rude Asiatic
tribes. Suicide, swift and terrible, was the rule where some great loss,
disgrace, or bereavement unsettled the mind.
“He means to impale himself with all his force on that spear point and
end his life,” decided the young aviator. “Hoi-hoi!”
Just in time did Dave distract the native from his tragic purpose. He
fairly tumbled down the hill as the man, running at full speed, had
almost reached the waiting instrument of death. Dave’s shout made him
waver. As he dangled the prayer mill towards the wretched man, the
latter came to a pause like a statue.
The eyes of the native were glued to the amulet as if he was fascinated.
To his overheated fancy Dave possibly suggested some “white god” sent
from the clouds to restore the precious prayer mill.
The young airman came directly up to the native and extended the
trinket. The dark, bony hand of the devotee reached out and clasped it.
He burst into tears, kissed it, caressed it. He thrust it into his
bosom, and raising his arms in wild gyrations began a shrill, joyful
chant.
When it was concluded he cast himself on the ground. Crawling abjectly
he embraced Dave’s knees. He lifted his eyes in gratitude.
A stout steel chain bearing at one end a serviceable watch and at its
other the ring Adrianoffski had given Dave, met the glance of the
grateful suppliant.
“Oi-e! oi-e!” he suddenly shouted. His fingers touched the ring. His
eyes, showing an intelligence he could not express, rested on the face
of the young aviator.