When the early morning sun of another day had mounted up into a
cloudless firmament, the two aviators were preparing for their
adventure. Believing that the vigorous exercise of climbing would do
their little-used muscles good, they decided to leave the flier behind.
Since this was so, they realized that it might be necessary to camp on
top of the mountain that night; consequently they packed up a light
tent, a couple of blankets and some extra provisions.
Señor Diaz did not urge them to desist from their venture but, when
he wished them good luck, Pelton noticed that there was something
strangely solemn about his voice and eyes. His attitude was not at all
that of a friend bidding him good luck at the outset of a holiday of
sport; it resembled, instead, the attitude of a certain fatherly old
captain speaking kindly to him when he was about to risk his life in an
aerial combat.
When all was ready, Calhoun and Pelton started out up the slopes of
the Andes. For a couple of miles the going was easy; but, as they
approached closer to the sinister bulk of "The Devil's Nest," the
ground grew steep and sterile and the trail more and more difficult.
Calhoun was outwardly in a carefree mood and he scoffed often about
the story. "Just imagine, Joe," he would say, "demons and what-not in
these mountains that are nearer to God than anything on earth--beneath
this blue sky that is the very symbol of peace and beauty! What a
superstitious lot the Señor and all his kind are!"
Pelton said very little. Somehow he felt that his friend's
lightheartedness was forced, and over his own mind there was coming a
sense of depression that increased as the mountain grew more rugged.
Was there really some horror in the ancient, extinct crater far above?
"No!" he told himself emphatically. The idea was ridiculous; he was a
fool even to think of it.
The two men paused to eat their noonday meal at a small level space
nearly three thousand feet above the village. The stillness of the
place and his own gloomy mood inspired strange thoughts in the mind of
Pelton. Finally he turned to Calhoun who was vigorously chewing the
last fragment of a ham sandwich (yes--this ancient food still delighted
palates of the twenty-second century.)
"Do you think often of Death, George?" he asked.
The other swallowed hard and then smiling slightly, answered: "Death?
Well rather. I couldn't help thinking of him now and then, because
you see I play hide-and-seek with him pretty nearly every day. He's
come to be about my most intimate playfellow, and he's a real sport.
He's always 'it' and he never gets sore. So far he hasn't found me,
and I will continue to keep out of his way if I can. However, if it's
necessary, I'll take my hat off to Death and admit I'm beaten. I'd
rather do that than become a slave to those Asiatics."
"I don't fear death in the physical sense any more than you do,
George," said Pelton, "but, Lord! How I hate to be forgotten! I'd
like to survive this war and live long enough to work out some of my
scientific theories. Since I was just a kid I have dreamed of doing
something really big and that idea has grown to be almost an obsession
with me. You are lucky; even our enemies will remember you as one of
the cleverest aerial duelists that ever fought."
"Pshaw!" returned Calhoun; "If there isn't anybody left on earth
to remember me but those disgusting Asiatics, I'd rather not be
remembered. But listen here, old fellow, I don't think it is the least
bit nice of you to make this holiday disagreeable with your glum talk.
Just forget it and stow some food and then let's be on our way. The top
of the mountain is still about three thousand feet above us, and if we
want to reach it before sunset we had better get a move on."
A few minutes later the adventurers continued with their ascent. Now
they began to encounter real difficulties; there were rugged, almost
perpendicular crags, offering but the barest hand- and foot-holds.
These almost baffled the amateur climbers. Here and there were narrow
shelves where they could stop to get their breath.