The morning sun shone upon the bosom of Chinnereth, glancing from the
breeze born ripples that moved across its surface like vast companies
of soldiers passing in review with their countless spears gleaming in
the sunlight--a dazzling aspect of beauty.
But to Lady Barbara Collis it connoted something quite different--a
shallow splendor concealing cruel and treacherous depths, the real
Chinnereth. She shuddered as she approached its shore surrounded by the
apostles, preceded by Abraham, the son of Abraham, and followed by the
elders and the villagers. Among them, somewhere, she knew were the six
with their great net and their fibre ropes.
How alike were they all to Chinnereth, hiding their cruelty and their
treachery beneath a thin veneer of godliness! But there the parallel
terminated, for Chinnereth was beautiful. She glanced at the faces of
the men nearest her, and again she shuddered. "'So God created man in
his own image,'" she mused. "Who, then, created these?"
During the long weeks that fate had held her in this land of Midian she
had often sought an explanation of the origin of this strange race,
and the deductions of her active mind had not deviated greatly from
the truth. Noting the exaggerated racial characteristics of face and
form that distinguished them from other peoples she had seen, recalling
their common tendency to epilepsy, she had concluded that they were the
inbred descendants of a common ancestor, himself a defective and an
epileptic.
This theory explained much; but it failed to explain Jezebel, who
insisted that she was the child of two of these creatures and that,
insofar as she knew, no new strain of blood had ever been injected
into the veins of the Midian by intermating with other peoples.
Yet, somehow, Lady Barbara knew that such a strain must have been
introduced, though she could not guess the truth nor the antiquity of
the fact that lay buried in the grave of a little slave girl.
And their religion! Again she shuddered. What a hideous travesty of the
teachings of Christ! It was a confused jumble of ancient Christianity
and still more ancient Judaism, handed down by word of mouth through
a half imbecile people who had no written language; a people who had
confused Paul the Apostle with Christ the Master and lost entirely
the essence of the Master's teachings, while interpolating hideous
barbarisms of their own invention. Sometimes she thought she saw in
this exaggerated deviation a suggestion of parallel to other so-called
Christian sects of the civilized outer world.
But now her train of thoughts was interrupted by the near approach of
the procession to the shore of the lake. Here was the flat-topped lava
rock of grim suggestiveness and hideous memory. How long it seemed
since she had watched the six hurl their screaming victim from its well
worn surface, and yet it had been but yesterday. Now it was her turn.
The Prophet and the Apostles were intoning their senseless gibberish,
meant to impress the villagers with their erudition and cloak the real
vacuity of their minds, a practice not unknown to more civilized sects.
She was halted now upon the smooth surface of the lava, polished by
soft sandals and naked feet through the countless years that these
cruel rites had been enacted beside the waters of Chinnereth. Again she
heard the screams of yesterday's victim. But Lady Barbara Collis had
not screamed, nor would she. She would rob them of that satisfaction at
least.
Abraham, the son of Abraham, motioned the six to the fore; and they
came, bearing their net and their cords. At their feet lay the lava
fragment that would weight the net and its contents. The Prophet raised
his hands above his head and the people kneeled. In the forefront of
their ranks Lady Barbara saw the golden-haired Jezebel; and her heart
was touched, for there was anguish in the beautiful face and tears in
the lovely eyes. Here was one, at least, who could harbor love and
compassion.
"I have walked with Jehovah," cried Abraham, the son of Abraham, and
Lady Barbara wondered that he did not have blisters on his feet, so
often he walked with Jehovah. The levity of the conceit brought an
involuntary smile to her lips, a smile that the Prophet noticed. "You
smile," he said, angrily. "You smile when you should scream and beg for
mercy as the others do. Why do you smile?"
"Because I am not afraid," replied Lady Barbara, though she was very
much afraid.
"Why art thou not afraid, woman?" demanded the old man.
"I, too, have walked with Jehovah," she replied, "and He told me to
fear not, because you are a false prophet, and--"
"Silence!" thundered Abraham, the son of Abraham. "Blaspheme no more.
Jehovah shall judge you in a moment." He turned to the six. "Into the
net with her!"
Quickly they did his bidding; and as they commenced to swing her body
to and fro, to gain momentum against the moment that they would release
their holds and cast her into the deep lake, she heard The Prophet
reciting her iniquities that Jehovah was about to judge in his own
peculiar way. His speech was punctuated by the screams and groans of
those of the company who were seized in the grip of the now familiar
attacks to which Lady Barbara had become so accustomed as to be almost
as callous to as the Midians themselves.
From her pocket the girl extracted the little pen knife that was her
only weapon and held it firmly in one hand, the blade open and ready
for the work she intended it to do. And what work was that? Surely,
she could not hope to inflict instant death upon herself with that
inadequate weapon! Yet, in the last stages of fear induced by utter
helplessness and hopelessness one may attempt anything, even the
impossible.
Now they were swinging her far out over Chinnereth. The Apostles and
the elders were intoning their weird chant in voices excited to frenzy
by the imminence of death, those who were not writhing upon the rocky
face of the altar in the throes of seizures.
Suddenly came the word from Abraham, the son of Abraham. Lady Barbara
caught her breath in a last frightened gasp. The six released their
holds. A loud scream arose from the huddled villagers--the scream of a
woman--and as she plunged toward the dark waters Lady Barbara knew that
it was the voice of Jezebel crying out in the anguish of sorrow. Then
mysterious Chinnereth closed above her head.
At that very moment Lafayette Smith, A.M., Ph.D., Sc.D., was stumbling
along a rocky mountain side that walled the great crater where lay the
land of Midian and Chinnereth. He was no more aware of the tragedy
being enacted upon the opposite side of that stupendous wall than of
the fact that he was moving directly away from the camp he was seeking.
Had there been anyone there to tell him, and had they told him, that
he was hopelessly lost he would have been inclined to dispute the
statement, so positive was he that he was taking a short cut to camp,
which he imagined was but a little distance ahead.
Although he had been without supper and breakfast, hunger had not
as yet caused him any annoyance, partially because of the fact that
he had had some chocolate with him, which had materially assisted
in allaying its pangs, and partially through his interest in the
geologic formations that held the attention of his scholarly mind to
the exclusion of such material considerations as hunger, thirst, and
bodily comfort. Even the question of personal safety was relegated to
the oblivion that usually engulfed all practical issues when Lafayette
Smith was immersed in the pleasant waters of research.
Consequently he was unaware of the proximity of a tawny body, nor did
the fixed and penetrating gaze of a pair of cruel yellow-green eyes
penetrate the armor of his preoccupation to disturb that sixth sense
that is popularly supposed to warn us of unseen danger. Yet even had
any premonition of threat to his life or safety disturbed him he
doubtless would have ignored it, safe in the consciousness that he
was adequately protected by the possession of his .32 caliber, nickel
plated pistol.
Moving northward along the lower slopes of a conical mountain, the mind
of the geologist became more and more deeply engrossed in the rocky
story that Nature had written upon the landscape, a story so thrilling
that even thoughts of camp were forgotten; and as he made his way
farther and farther from camp a great lion stalked in his wake.
What hidden urge prompted Numa thus to follow the man-thing perhaps
the great cat, himself, could not have guessed. He was not hungry, for
he had but recently finished a kill, nor was he a man-eater, though
a properly balanced combination of circumstances might easily find
the scales tipped in that direction by hunger, inevitable and oft
recurring. It may have been only curiosity, or, again, some motive akin
to that playfulness which is inherent in all cats.
For an hour Numa followed the man--an hour of intense interest for
both of them--an hour that would have been replete with far greater
interest for the man, if less pleasurable, had he shared with Numa the
knowledge of their propinquity. Then the man halted before a narrow
vertical cleft in the rocky escarpment towering above him. Here was an
interesting entry in the book of Nature! What titanic force had thus
rent the solid rock of this mighty mountain? It had its own peculiar
significance, but what was it? Perhaps elsewhere on the face of the
mountain, that here became precipitous, there would be other evidence
to point the way to a solution. Lafayette Smith looked up at the face
of the cliff towering above him, he looked ahead in the direction he
had been going; and then he looked back in the direction from which he
had come--and saw the lion.
For a long moment the two stared at one another. Surprise and interest
were the most definitely registered of the emotions that the discovery
engendered in the mind of the man. Suspicion and irritability were
aroused in Numa.
"Most interesting," thought Lafayette Smith. "A splendid specimen;" but
his interest in lions was purely academic, and his thoughts quickly
reverted to the more important phenomenon of the crack in the mountain,
which now, again, claimed his undivided attention. From which it may
be inferred that Lafayette Smith was either an inordinately courageous
man or a fool. Neither assumption, however, would be wholly correct,
especially the latter. The truth of the matter is that Lafayette Smith
suffered from inexperience and impracticality. While he knew that a
lion was, _per se_, a threat to longevity he saw no reason why this
lion should attack him. He, Lafayette Smith, had done nothing to offend
this, or any other, lion; he was attending to his own affairs and, like
the gentleman he was, expected others, including lions, to be equally
considerate. Furthermore, he had a childlike faith in the infallibility
of his nickel plated .32 should worse develop into worst. Therefore he
ignored Numa and returned to contemplation of the intriguing crack.
It was several feet wide and was apparent as far up the face of
the cliff as he could see. Also there was every indication that it
continued far below the present surface of the ground, but had been
filled by débris brought down by erosion from above. How far into the
mountain it extended he could not guess; but he hoped that it ran back,
and was open, for a great distance, in which event it would offer a
most unique means for studying the origin of this mountain massif.
Therefore, with this thought uppermost in his mind, and the lion
already crowded into the dim background of his consciousness, he
entered the narrow opening to the intriguing fissure. Here he
discovered that the cleft curved gradually to the left and that it
extended upward to the surface, where it was considerably wider than at
the bottom, thus affording both light and air for the interior.
Thrilled with excitement and glowing with pride in his discovery,
Lafayette clambered inward over the fallen rocks that littered the
floor of the fissure, intent now on exploring the opening to its full
extent and then working back slowly to the entrance in a more leisurely
manner, at which time he would make a minute examination of whatever
geological record Nature had imprinted upon the walls of this majestic
corridor. Hunger, thirst, camp, and the lion were forgotten.
Numa, however, was no geologist. The great cleft aroused no palpitant
enthusiasm within his broad breast. It did not cause him to forget
anything, and it intrigued his interest only to the extent of causing
him to speculate on why the man-thing had entered it. Having noted the
indifferent attitude of the man, his lack of haste, Numa could not
attribute his disappearance within the maw of the fissure to flight.
All of his life things had been fleeing from him.
It had always seemed to Numa an unfair provision of Nature that things
should so almost inevitably seek to escape him, especially those things
he most coveted. There were, for example, Pacco, the zebra, and Wappi,
the antelope, the tenderest and most delicious of his particular
weaknesses, and, at the same time, the fleetest. It would have been
much simpler all around had Kota the tortoise been endowed with the
speed of Pacco and Pacco with the torpidity of Kota.
But in this instance there was nothing to indicate that the man-thing
was fleeing him. Perhaps, then, there was treachery afoot. Numa
bristled. Very cautiously he approached the fissure into which his
quarry had disappeared. Numa was beginning to think of Lafayette Smith
in terms of food, now, since his long stalking had commenced to arouse
within his belly the first, faint suggestions of hunger. He approached
the cleft and looked in. The tarmangani was not in sight. Numa was not
pleased, and he evidenced his displeasure by an angry growl.
A hundred yards within the fissure Lafayette Smith heard the growl and
halted abruptly. "That damn lion!" he ejaculated. "I had forgotten
all about him." It now occurred to him that this might be the
beast's lair--a most unhappy contretemps, if true. A realization of
his predicament at last supplanted the geologic reveries that had
filled his mind. But what to do? Suddenly his faith in his trusty .32
faltered. As he recalled the appearance of the great beast the weapon
seemed less infallible, yet it still gave him a certain sense of
assurance as his fingers caressed its grip.
He determined that it would not be wise to retrace his steps toward the
entrance at this time. Of course the lion might not have entered the
fissure, might not even be harboring any intention of so doing. On the
other hand, he might, in which event a return toward the opening could
prove embarrassing, if not disastrous. Perhaps, if he waited a while,
the lion would go away; and in the meantime, he decided, it would be
discreet to go still farther along the cleft, as the lion, if it
entered at all, might conceivably not proceed to the uttermost depths
of the corridor. Further, there was the chance that he would find some
sort of sanctuary farther in--a cave, a ledge to which he could climb,
a miracle. Lafayette Smith was open to anything by this time.
And so he scrambled on, tearing his clothes and his flesh as well on
sharp fragments of tumbled rock, going deeper into this remarkable
corridor that seemed endless. In view of what might be behind him
he hoped that it was endless. He had shuddered regularly to the oft
recurring expectation of running into a blank wall just beyond that
portion of the gently curving fissure that lay within his view ahead.
He pictured the event. With his back to the rocky end of the cul-de-sac
he would face back down the corridor, his pistol ready in his hand.
Presently the lion would appear and discover him.
At this point he had some difficulty in constructing the scene, because
he did not know just what the lion would do. Perhaps, seeing a man,
cowed by the superior gaze of the human eye, he would turn in hasty
retreat. And then again, perhaps he would not. Lafayette Smith was
inclined to the conclusion that he would not. But then, of course, he
had not had sufficient experience of wild animals to permit him to pose
as an authority on the subject. To be sure, upon another occasion,
while engaged in field work, he had been chased by a cow. Yet even this
experience had not been conclusive--it had not served to definitely
demonstrate the cow's ultimate intent--for the very excellent reason
that Lafayette had attained a fence two jumps ahead of her.
Confused as the issue now seemed to be by his total ignorance of
leonine psychology, he was convinced that he must attempt to visualize
the expectant scene that he might be prepared for the eventuality.
Forging grimly ahead over the roughly tumbled fragments, casting an
occasional glance backward, he again pictured his last stand with his
back against the corridor's rocky end. The lion was creeping slowly
toward him, but Lafayette was waiting until there should be no chance
of a miss. He was very cool. His hand was steady as he took careful
aim.
Here regrets interrupted the even tenor of his musing--regrets that he
had not practiced more assiduously with his revolver. The fact that
he had never discharged it troubled him, though only vaguely, since
he harbored the popular subconscious conviction that if a firearm is
pointed in the general direction of an animate object it becomes a
deadly weapon.
However, in this mental picture he took careful aim--the fact that he
was utilizing the front sight only giving him no concern. He pulled
the trigger. The lion staggered and almost fell. It required a second
shot to finish him, and as he sank to the ground Lafayette Smith
breathed a genuine sigh of relief. He felt himself trembling slightly
to the reaction of the nervous strain he had been undergoing. He
stopped and, withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket, mopped the
perspiration from his forehead, smiling a little as he realized the
pitch of excitement to which he had aroused himself. Doubtless the
lion had already forgotten him and had gone on about his business, he
soliloquized.
He was facing back in the direction from which he had come as this
satisfying conclusion passed through his mind; and then, a hundred feet
away, where the corridor passed from view around a curve, the lion
appeared.
X