NEARING THE CITY OF GOLD
The creature for which Dave had gone on a double-quick hunt, after the
balloon had landed on the desert island, was a reindeer. He had probably
crossed over on a solid floe from the mainland. It was his last crossing.
Soon Dave came back dragging two hundred pounds of fresh meat behind him.
"No more 'gold fish' in cans," he exulted. "No more evaporated milk and
pickled egg. We eat, Jarvis, we eat!"
"That's fine," smiled Jarvis, "but what's all the words you been spillin'
about this bein' America?"
"Oh!" laughed Dave. "That was something of a joke, though this island
really does belong to old U.S.A. Captain DeLong, an American, whose ship
was crushed in the ice near this island, was its first discoverer. He
claimed it in the name of his country and christened it Bennett Island. It
says that in the message he left in his cairn. But that don't feed us. I'm
starved. There's driftwood on the beach. C'mon."
Soon they were roasting strips of delicious venison over a crackling fire.
Supper over, they lay down with faces to the fire and talked over
prospects for the future. The stranger was with them, but had little to
say. He seemed puzzled at the unusual circumstances of the journey and was
constantly asking when they would return to the native village at the
mouth of the river.
"Evidently," said Dave, after a long and fruitless attempt to draw from
him any account of his life with the Orientals in the mine, "the rap he
received on his head blotted out all memory of those days. If we can't get
that particular stretch of memory in working order, we may never know how
Frank Langlois was killed, nor who it was that sent us strange messages on
phonographic records and moving-picture films. I'm hoping his memory'll
come back. A sudden shock may bring it round at any time."
Their conference regarding the future resulted in a determination to wait
for a change of wind which would insure them a safe trip to the mainland.
In the meantime, Dave would prepare the chemicals for immediate inflation
of the balloon and Jarvis would study over the Japanese puzzle of a
gasoline engine which would not respond to his touch.
Jarvis' work netted nothing. Three days later an onshore wind arose, and
the balloon, wafted upward on its gentle crest, brought the explorers back
to the mainland.
"Land! Land! And the City of Gold!" exclaimed Jarvis, as the evening
clouds lifted and gave them a momentary view of that strange golden gleam
which for so long had haunted their dreams.
Once before, many months ago, the two of them had neared the spot on an
ocean craft, but duty to marooned comrades had called them back. Now they
had only themselves to think of, and the City of Gold, if city it be,
would offer to them a haven of refuge.
What wonder that their hearts beat wildly as they caught its gleam and
realized that in a very few moments they would be landing within a quarter
of a mile of that mysterious city, which, according to the natives whom
they had met long ago, did really exist as a place of many people and much
gold.
"Pull the cord! Pull the cord!" shouted Jarvis excitedly. "We're nearin'
shore."
He had spoken the truth. As Dave gripped the cord attached to the gas
valve on the balloon and in his imagination heard the hiss of escaping gas
and felt the drop of the balloon, his thoughts sobered. After all, what
did they know about these strange people? What sort of treatment would
they receive from them? If they landed they might, in less than an hour,
be dead. Might it not be better to allow the balloon to rise and to
attempt a journey back to some Russian town? But instantly he realized
that this gale which was coming would carry them to the heart of
Bolsheviki Russia. What chance would they have there?
"Pull the cord! Pull the cord!" insisted Jarvis.
Mechanically, Dave's hand came down. The hiss of air was followed by the
sagging drop of the car. The die had been cast.
* * * * *
For an hour, after admitting the white man's dog to his secret mine, Pant
sat listening for any sound that might tell of his discovery. After this,
heaving a sigh of relief, he turned at once to the work that lay before
him. He realized that whatever he did must be done soon.
Dragging the newly acquired batteries back to where the others were lined
up along the wall, he attached one of them to the circuit, then threw in
the switch which should set the buzz-saw mining machine into operation. An
angry spit and flare was his only reward.
Nothing daunted, he cut in another battery, then another. As he touched
the switch after attaching the third battery, a loud whirring sound
rewarded him.
"Eureka! I have found it!" he cried, leaping high in air. "Now we win!"
The dog barked loudly at this singular demonstration, but since the
vault-like mine was sound proof, it mattered little how noisy was his
rejoicing.
The cutting machine was instantly set in operation. The sing of the wheel
against the frozen earth was deafening. The earth-tremble, started by the
machinery, could not fail to make itself felt outside the mine. But when
he realized that only the yellow men knew the cause of such a tremble and
that they were many miles from that spot, making their way south with dog
team or reindeer, Pant had little fear. He would find his way to the
mother-lode, would melt snow from the inside of the bank by the mine's
entrance, would wash out the gold; then, if only he could evade the
Russians and the Chukches, he would begin the southward journey.
Hour by hour, the stacks of dark brown cubes of frozen pay dirt grew at
the sides of the mine. Hour by hour, the yellow glistened more brightly in
the cubes. Yet he did not come to the mother-lode. He slept but little,
taking short snatches now and then. Sometimes he fell asleep at his task.
One thing began to worry him; the gasoline was running short. With no
gasoline to run his motor, there could be no electric current, no power.
Now and again he fancied that men were prowling about the snow-blocked
entrance. He knew these were only fancies. Sleepless days and nights were
telling on his nerves. When would the rich pay come?
At last, while half asleep, he worked on the upper tiers of cubes, there
came a jarring rattle which brought him up standing. The wheel had struck
solid rock. This meant that there was a ledge, a former miniature fall in
the river bed. At the foot of this fall, there would be a pocket, and in
that pocket, much gold. The gasoline? There was yet enough. To-morrow he
would clean up the mother-lode. Then he would be away.
He stumbled, as in a dream, to his blankets, and, wrapping them about him,
fell into a stupor that was sleep and more.
* * * * *
As the balloon, in which Dave Tower and Jarvis rode, drifted toward the
shore of the mainland, Dave, shading his eyes, watched the yellow gleam of
the City of Gold darken to a purplish black, then back to a dull gray.
"Man, it's gone. I 'ates to look," groaned Jarvis. "It's gone, the City of
Gold."
Dave had been expecting something like this to happen. "Probably the
surface of some gigantic rock, polished by wind and rain, reflecting the
rays of the sun," was his mental comment. He did not have the heart to
express his thoughts to Jarvis.
They drifted on. Suddenly Dave dived into the cabin and returned with a
pair of powerful binoculars. He turned these on the spot where the shining
City of Gold had been.
What he saw brought an exclamation to his lips. It died there unuttered.
"After all," he thought to himself, "it may be nothing, just nothing at
all."
What he had seen was still brownish gray in color, but instead of the flat
even surface of a rock broken here and there by irregular fissures, he had
seen innumerable squares, placed as regularly as the roofs of a house.
"Nature does not build that way. Man must have had a hand in it. Here's
hoping." Such were his mental comments as he saw land rise up to meet
them. Were they nearing an inhabited land?
He did not have long to wait for the answer. As the balloon drifted in
over the land, figures ran across the snow, in evident pursuit of the
drifting "sausage."
Jarvis, who had taken the glass, let out a roar. "It's 'uman's, me lad,
'uman bein's it is, and if it's no one but the bloody, bloomin' 'eathen,
I'll be glad to see 'em."
He was right. As the anchor, catching in a claybank, jerked the balloon to
a sudden halt, they could see the people racing toward the point where the
car was sure to land.
Dave's mind was in a whirl. First his right hand gripped his automatic,
next it hung limp at his side. What manner of people were they, anyway? If
that broad flat surface of little squares meant the roof of a building,
then these certainly were not natives, Chukches or Eskimos. Those always
lived in houses of deer skin or snow. And, if it was a house, what an
immense thing it must be. A hundred feet long, perhaps two hundred, and
half as wide.
There was little time for speculation. The balloon carriage dropped
rapidly. Their daft professor hung to the rail, babbling incoherent things
about returning to the mouth of the Anadir. Jarvis was silent. Evidently
there was but one thing to do; to trust themselves to the tender mercies
of these people.
As the cabin bumped the snowy tundra, Dave sprang over the rail, followed
by Jarvis, who assisted the still feeble professor.
They found themselves at once in the midst of a curious-eyed group of
people. These, with their long beards and droll clothing and droll
manners, made Dave feel as if he were another Rip Van Winkle entering a
land of dreams.
In the crowd there were some twenty men, slowly straggling in. There was a
woman of middle age, and beside her a girl of about sixteen years,
evidently her daughter. Dave's eyes approved of the girl, and though she
was a stranger to his tongue, she did not fail to find an immediate means
of letting him know that she looked upon him with much favor.
All these people were dressed in skins, fawn skins for the most part,
though there were occasional garments of leather. The garments were not
cut at all after the manner of Chukches or Eskimos. The girl wore a skirt
and a loose middy-like jacket of white buckskin, the skin of which had
been split thin. The garments suited her wonderfully well.
Dave had concluded, before one of them spoke, that they were Russians.
When the oldest man of the group attempted to address him, he knew his
guess to be correct, though he understood not one word of what was being
said.
"But what," he asked himself, "are these people doing here so far within
the Arctic Circle, and how do they live?"
Having made it evident that he did not understand their language, he
awaited further attempts at conversation. Other languages were tried with
no success, until a man of thirty years or past suddenly said:
"Do you speak English?"
Dave could have wept on his shoulders for pure joy. What he did do was to
extend his hand with a hearty, "Put her there, old chap, that's just what
I do!"
"You must be hungry," said the new-found friend.
"We could eat," admitted Dave.
"Come this way."
Having made sure that the balloon was in a safe position, Dave and Jarvis,
assisting the professor, followed their host round a point of rock and up
to a row of cabins on the southern side of the hill. Having entered one of
these, they were invited to sit down while the professor was helped to a
room in the rear and tucked into bed.
"Now, gentlemen," said the stranger, "we can offer you only venison and
fresh sweet potatoes for your main course. You will perhaps not mind that.
But in the matter of salads, we can give you a little choice. Will you
have head lettuce or sliced cucumbers?" He smiled genially.
Dave looked at Jarvis; Jarvis stared at Dave. Was this man jesting? Head
lettuce and cucumbers in mid-winter, inside the Arctic Circle? What a rank
impossibility! Yet the man did not smile.
"Mine's 'ead lettuce an' a little whale blubber," laughed Jarvis.
"And yours?" smiled the host, turning to Dave.
"S-s-same," stammered Dave,
"'E's a jolly sport," sighed Jarvis, as the man went out. "Next 'e'll
offer strawberries for dessert."
Imagine their utter astonishment when the man returned presently with a
wooden tray heavily laden with food, and on it, not only two heaping
wooden bowls of head lettuce, but two smaller bowls of luscious red
strawberries, and beside each of these, a little wooden pitcher of rich
cream.
"Sorry we have to offer our food in such plain dishes," smiled the host.
"We have experimented with pottery but have had no success as yet." He
bowed himself out of the room.
"Dave, old pal," said Jarvis, "don't move, don't speak to me. Don't wake
me up. I'm 'aving such a beautiful dream."