“Good-bye, Perry!” I said, clasping the old man’s hand. “There may be

nothing but the present and no such thing as time, but I feel that I am

about to take a trip into the hereafter from which I shall never

return. If you and Ghak should manage to escape I want you to promise

me that you will find Dian the Beautiful and tell her that with my last

words I asked her forgiveness for the unintentional affront I put upon

her, and that my one wish was to be spared long enough to right the

wrong that I had done her.”

Tears came to Perry’s eyes.

“I cannot believe but that you will return, David,” he said. “It would

be awful to think of living out the balance of my life without you

among these hateful and repulsive creatures. If you are taken away I

shall never escape, for I feel that I am as well off here as I should

be anywhere within this buried world. Good-bye, my boy, good-bye!” and

then his old voice faltered and broke, and as he hid his face in his

hands the Sagoth guardsman grasped me roughly by the shoulder and

hustled me from the chamber.

XI

FOUR DEAD MAHARS

A moment later I was standing before a dozen Mahars—the social

investigators of Phutra. They asked me many questions, through a Sagoth

interpreter. I answered them all truthfully. They seemed particularly

interested in my account of the outer earth and the strange vehicle

which had brought Perry and me to Pellucidar. I thought that I had

convinced them, and after they had sat in silence for a long time

following my examination, I expected to be ordered returned to my

quarters.

During this apparent silence they were debating through the medium of

strange, unspoken language the merits of my tale. At last the head of

the tribunal communicated the result of their conference to the officer

in charge of the Sagoth guard.

“Come,” he said to me, “you are sentenced to the experimental pits for

having dared to insult the intelligence of the mighty ones with the

ridiculous tale you have had the temerity to unfold to them.”

“Do you mean that they do not believe me?” I asked, totally astonished.

“Believe you!” he laughed. “Do you mean to say that you expected any

one to believe so impossible a lie?”

It was hopeless, and so I walked in silence beside my guard down

through the dark corridors and runways toward my awful doom. At a low

level we came upon a number of lighted chambers in which we saw many

Mahars engaged in various occupations. To one of these chambers my

guard escorted me, and before leaving they chained me to a side wall.

There were other humans similarly chained. Upon a long table lay a

victim even as I was ushered into the room. Several Mahars stood about

the poor creature holding him down so that he could not move. Another,

grasping a sharp knife with her three-toed fore foot, was laying open

the victim’s chest and abdomen. No anesthetic had been administered and

the shrieks and groans of the tortured man were terrible to hear. This,

indeed, was vivisection with a vengeance. Cold sweat broke out upon me

as I realized that soon my turn would come. And to think that where

there was no such thing as time I might easily imagine that my

suffering was enduring for months before death finally released me!

The Mahars had paid not the slightest attention to me as I had been

brought into the room. So deeply immersed were they in their work that

I am sure they did not even know that the Sagoths had entered with me.

The door was close by. Would that I could reach it! But those heavy

chains precluded any such possibility. I looked about for some means of

escape from my bonds. Upon the floor between me and the Mahars lay a

tiny surgical instrument which one of them must have dropped. It looked

not unlike a button-hook, but was much smaller, and its point was

sharpened. A hundred times in my boyhood days had I picked locks with a

buttonhook. Could I but reach that little bit of polished steel I might

yet effect at least a temporary escape.

Crawling to the limit of my chain, I found that by reaching one hand as

far out as I could my fingers still fell an inch short of the coveted

instrument. It was tantalizing! Stretch every fiber of my being as I

would, I could not quite make it.

At last I turned about and extended one foot toward the object. My

heart came to my throat! I could just touch the thing! But suppose that

in my effort to drag it toward me I should accidentally shove it still

farther away and thus entirely out of reach! Cold sweat broke out upon

me from every pore. Slowly and cautiously I made the effort. My toes

dropped upon the cold metal. Gradually I worked it toward me until I

felt that it was within reach of my hand and a moment later I had

turned about and the precious thing was in my grasp.

Assiduously I fell to work upon the Mahar lock that held my chain. It

was pitifully simple. A child might have picked it, and a moment later

I was free. The Mahars were now evidently completing their work at the

table. One already turned away and was examining other victims,

evidently with the intention of selecting the next subject.

Those at the table had their backs toward me. But for the creature

walking toward us I might have escaped that moment. Slowly the thing

approached me, when its attention was attracted by a huge slave chained

a few yards to my right. Here the reptile stopped and commenced to go

over the poor devil carefully, and as it did so its back turned toward

me for an instant, and in that instant I gave two mighty leaps that

carried me out of the chamber into the corridor beyond, down which I

raced with all the speed I could command.

Where I was, or whither I was going, I knew not. My only thought was to

place as much distance as possible between me and that frightful

chamber of torture.

Presently I reduced my speed to a brisk walk, and later realizing the

danger of running into some new predicament, were I not careful, I

moved still more slowly and cautiously. After a time I came to a

passage that seemed in some mysterious way familiar to me, and

presently, chancing to glance within a chamber which led from the

corridor I saw three Mahars curled up in slumber upon a bed of skins. I

could have shouted aloud in joy and relief. It was the same corridor

and the same Mahars that I had intended to have lead so important a

role in our escape from Phutra. Providence had indeed been kind to me,

for the reptiles still slept.

My one great danger now lay in returning to the upper levels in search

of Perry and Ghak, but there was nothing else to be done, and so I

hastened upward. When I came to the frequented portions of the

building, I found a large burden of skins in a corner and these I

lifted to my head, carrying them in such a way that ends and corners

fell down about my shoulders completely hiding my face. Thus disguised

I found Perry and Ghak together in the chamber where we had been wont

to eat and sleep.

Both were glad to see me, it was needless to say, though of course they

had known nothing of the fate that had been meted out to me by my

judges. It was decided that no time should now be lost before

attempting to put our plan of escape to the test, as I could not hope

to remain hidden from the Sagoths long, nor could I forever carry that

bale of skins about upon my head without arousing suspicion. However it

seemed likely that it would carry me once more safely through the

crowded passages and chambers of the upper levels, and so I set out

with Perry and Ghak—the stench of the illy cured pelts fairly choking

me.

Together we repaired to the first tier of corridors beneath the main

floor of the buildings, and here Perry and Ghak halted to await me. The

buildings are cut out of the solid limestone formation. There is

nothing at all remarkable about their architecture. The rooms are

sometimes rectangular, sometimes circular, and again oval in shape. The

corridors which connect them are narrow and not always straight. The

chambers are lighted by diffused sunlight reflected through tubes

similar to those by which the avenues are lighted. The lower the tiers

of chambers, the darker. Most of the corridors are entirely unlighted.

The Mahars can see quite well in semidarkness.

Down to the main floor we encountered many Mahars, Sagoths, and slaves;

but no attention was paid to us as we had become a part of the domestic

life of the building. There was but a single entrance leading from the

place into the avenue and this was well guarded by Sagoths—this doorway

alone were we forbidden to pass. It is true that we were not supposed

to enter the deeper corridors and apartments except on special

occasions when we were instructed to do so; but as we were considered a

lower order without intelligence there was little reason to fear that

we could accomplish any harm by so doing, and so we were not hindered

as we entered the corridor which led below.

Wrapped in a skin I carried three swords, and the two bows, and the

arrows which Perry and I had fashioned. As many slaves bore

skin-wrapped burdens to and fro my load attracted no comment. Where I

left Ghak and Perry there were no other creatures in sight, and so I

withdrew one sword from the package, and leaving the balance of the

weapons with Perry, started on alone toward the lower levels.

Having come to the apartment in which the three Mahars slept I entered

silently on tiptoe, forgetting that the creatures were without the

sense of hearing. With a quick thrust through the heart I disposed of

the first but my second thrust was not so fortunate, so that before I

could kill the next of my victims it had hurled itself against the

third, who sprang quickly up, facing me with wide-distended jaws. But

fighting is not the occupation which the race of Mahars loves, and when

the thing saw that I already had dispatched two of its companions, and

that my sword was red with their blood, it made a dash to escape me.

But I was too quick for it, and so, half hopping, half flying, it

scurried down another corridor with me close upon its heels.

Its escape meant the utter ruin of our plan, and in all probability my

instant death. This thought lent wings to my feet; but even at my best

I could do no more than hold my own with the leaping thing before me.

Of a sudden it turned into an apartment on the right of the corridor,

and an instant later as I rushed in I found myself facing two of the

Mahars. The one who had been there when we entered had been occupied

with a number of metal vessels, into which had been put powders and

liquids as I judged from the array of flasks standing about upon the

bench where it had been working. In an instant I realized what I had

stumbled upon. It was the very room for the finding of which Perry had

given me minute directions. It was the buried chamber in which was

hidden the Great Secret of the race of Mahars. And on the bench beside

the flasks lay the skin-bound book which held the only copy of the

thing I was to have sought, after dispatching the three Mahars in their

sleep.

There was no exit from the room other than the doorway in which I now

stood facing the two frightful reptiles. Cornered, I knew that they

would fight like demons, and they were well equipped to fight if fight

they must. Together they launched themselves upon me, and though I ran

one of them through the heart on the instant, the other fastened its

gleaming fangs about my sword arm above the elbow, and then with her

sharp talons commenced to rake me about the body, evidently intent upon

disemboweling me. I saw that it was useless to hope that I might

release my arm from that powerful, viselike grip which seemed to be

severing my arm from my body. The pain I suffered was intense, but it

only served to spur me to greater efforts to overcome my antagonist.

Back and forth across the floor we struggled—the Mahar dealing me

terrific, cutting blows with her fore feet, while I attempted to

protect my body with my left hand, at the same time watching for an

opportunity to transfer my blade from my now useless sword hand to its

rapidly weakening mate. At last I was successful, and with what seemed

to me my last ounce of strength I ran the blade through the ugly body

of my foe.

Soundless, as it had fought, it died, and though weak from pain and

loss of blood, it was with an emotion of triumphant pride that I

stepped across its convulsively stiffening corpse to snatch up the most

potent secret of a world. A single glance assured me it was the very

thing that Perry had described to me.

And as I grasped it did I think of what it meant to the human race of

Pellucidar—did there flash through my mind the thought that countless

generations of my own kind yet unborn would have reason to worship me

for the thing that I had accomplished for them? I did not. I thought of

a beautiful oval face, gazing out of limpid eyes, through a waving mass

of jet-black hair. I thought of red, red lips, God-made for kissing.

And of a sudden, apropos of nothing, standing there alone in the secret

chamber of the Mahars of Pellucidar, I realized that I loved Dian the

Beautiful.

XII

PURSUIT

For an instant I stood there thinking of her, and then, with a sigh, I

tucked the book in the thong that supported my loin cloth, and turned

to leave the apartment. At the bottom of the corridor which leads aloft

from the lower chambers I whistled in accordance with the prearranged

signal which was to announce to Perry and Ghak that I had been

successful. A moment later they stood beside me, and to my surprise I

saw that Hooja the Sly One accompanied them.

“He joined us,” explained Perry, “and would not be denied. The fellow

is a fox. He scents escape, and rather than be thwarted of our chance

now I told him that I would bring him to you, and let you decide

whether he might accompany us.”

I had no love for Hooja, and no confidence in him. I was sure that if

he thought it would profit him he would betray us; but I saw no way out

of it now, and the fact that I had killed four Mahars instead of only

the three I had expected to, made it possible to include the fellow in

our scheme of escape.

“Very well,” I said, “you may come with us, Hooja; but at the first

intimation of treachery I shall run my sword through you. Do you

understand?”

He said that he did.

Some time later we had removed the skins from the four Mahars, and so

succeeded in crawling inside of them ourselves that there seemed an

excellent chance for us to pass unnoticed from Phutra. It was not an

easy thing to fasten the hides together where we had split them along

the belly to remove them from their carcasses, but by remaining out

until the others had all been sewed in with my help, and then leaving

an aperture in the breast of Perry’s skin through which he could pass

his hands to sew me up, we were enabled to accomplish our design to

really much better purpose than I had hoped. We managed to keep the

heads erect by passing our swords up through the necks, and by the same

means were enabled to move them about in a life-like manner. We had our

greatest difficulty with the webbed feet, but even that problem was

finally solved, so that when we moved about we did so quite naturally.

Tiny holes punctured in the baggy throats into which our heads were

thrust permitted us to see well enough to guide our progress.

Thus we started up toward the main floor of the building. Ghak headed

the strange procession, then came Perry, followed by Hooja, while I

brought up the rear, after admonishing Hooja that I had so arranged my

sword that I could thrust it through the head of my disguise into his

vitals were he to show any indication of faltering.

As the noise of hurrying feet warned me that we were entering the busy

corridors of the main level, my heart came up into my mouth. It is with

no sense of shame that I admit that I was frightened—never before in my

life, nor since, did I experience any such agony of soulsearing fear

and suspense as enveloped me. If it be possible to sweat blood, I sweat

it then.

Slowly, after the manner of locomotion habitual to the Mahars, when

they are not using their wings, we crept through throngs of busy

slaves, Sagoths, and Mahars. After what seemed an eternity we reached

the outer door which leads into the main avenue of Phutra. Many Sagoths

loitered near the opening. They glanced at Ghak as he padded between

them. Then Perry passed, and then Hooja. Now it was my turn, and then

in a sudden fit of freezing terror I realized that the warm blood from

my wounded arm was trickling down through the dead foot of the Mahar

skin I wore and leaving its tell-tale mark upon the pavement, for I saw

a Sagoth call a companion’s attention to it.

The guard stepped before me and pointing to my bleeding foot spoke to

me in the sign language which these two races employ as a means of

communication. Even had I known what he was saying I could not have

replied with the dead thing that covered me. I once had seen a great

Mahar freeze a presumptuous Sagoth with a look. It seemed my only hope,

and so I tried it. Stopping in my tracks I moved my sword so that it

made the dead head appear to turn inquiring eyes upon the gorilla-man.

For a long moment I stood perfectly still, eyeing the fellow with those

dead eyes. Then I lowered the head and started slowly on. For a moment

all hung in the balance, but before I touched him the guard stepped to

one side, and I passed on out into the avenue.

On we went up the broad street, but now we were safe for the very

numbers of our enemies that surrounded us on all sides. Fortunately,

there was a great concourse of Mahars repairing to the shallow lake

which lies a mile or more from the city. They go there to indulge their

amphibian proclivities in diving for small fish, and enjoying the cool

depths of the water. It is a fresh-water lake, shallow, and free from

the larger reptiles which make the use of the great seas of Pellucidar

impossible for any but their own kind.

In the thick of the crowd we passed up the steps and out onto the

plain. For some distance Ghak remained with the stream that was

traveling toward the lake, but finally, at the bottom of a little gully

he halted, and there we remained until all had passed and we were

alone. Then, still in our disguises, we set off directly away from

Phutra.

The heat of the vertical rays of the sun was fast making our horrible

prisons unbearable, so that after passing a low divide, and entering a

sheltering forest, we finally discarded the Mahar skins that had

brought us thus far in safety.

I shall not weary you with the details of that bitter and galling

flight. How we traveled at a dogged run until we dropped in our tracks.

How we were beset by strange and terrible beasts. How we barely escaped

the cruel fangs of lions and tigers the size of which would dwarf into

pitiful insignificance the greatest felines of the outer world.

On and on we raced, our one thought to put as much distance between

ourselves and Phutra as possible. Ghak was leading us to his own

land—the land of Sari. No sign of pursuit had developed, and yet we

were sure that somewhere behind us relentless Sagoths were dogging our

tracks. Ghak said they never failed to hunt down their quarry until

they had captured it or themselves been turned back by a superior

force.

Our only hope, he said, lay in reaching his tribe which was quite

strong enough in their mountain fastness to beat off any number of

Sagoths.

At last, after what seemed months, and may, I now realize, have been

years, we came in sight of the dun escarpment which buttressed the

foothills of Sari. At almost the same instant, Hooja, who looked ever

quite as much behind as before, announced that he could see a body of

men far behind us topping a low ridge in our wake. It was the

long-expected pursuit.

I asked Ghak if we could make Sari in time to escape them.

“We may,” he replied; “but you will find that the Sagoths can move with

incredible swiftness, and as they are almost tireless they are

doubtless much fresher than we. Then—” he paused, glancing at Perry.

I knew what he meant. The old man was exhausted. For much of the period

of our flight either Ghak or I had half supported him on the march.

With such a handicap, less fleet pursuers than the Sagoths might easily

overtake us before we could scale the rugged heights which confronted

us.

“You and Hooja go on ahead,” I said. “Perry and I will make it if we

are able. We cannot travel as rapidly as you two, and there is no

reason why all should be lost because of that. It can’t be helped—we

have simply to face it.”

“I will not desert a companion,” was Ghak’s simple reply. I hadn’t

known that this great, hairy, primeval man had any such nobility of

character stowed away inside him. I had always liked him, but now to my

liking was added honor and respect. Yes, and love.

But still I urged him to go on ahead, insisting that if he could reach

his people he might be able to bring out a sufficient force to drive

off the Sagoths and rescue Perry and myself.

No, he wouldn’t leave us, and that was all there was to it, but he

suggested that Hooja might hurry on and warn the Sarians of the king’s

danger. It didn’t require much urging to start Hooja—the naked idea was

enough to send him leaping on ahead of us into the foothills which we

now had reached.

Perry realized that he was jeopardizing Ghak’s life and mine and the

old fellow fairly begged us to go on without him, although I knew that

he was suffering a perfect anguish of terror at the thought of falling

into the hands of the Sagoths. Ghak finally solved the problem, in

part, by lifting Perry in his powerful arms and carrying him. While the

act cut down Ghak’s speed he still could travel faster thus than when

half supporting the stumbling old man.

XIII

THE SLY ONE

The Sagoths were gaining on us rapidly, for once they had sighted us

they had greatly increased their speed. On and on we stumbled up the

narrow canyon that Ghak had chosen to approach the heights of Sari. On

either side rose precipitous cliffs of gorgeous, parti-colored rock,

while beneath our feet a thick mountain grass formed a soft and

noiseless carpet. Since we had entered the canyon we had had no glimpse

of our pursuers, and I was commencing to hope that they had lost our

trail and that we would reach the now rapidly nearing cliffs in time to

scale them before we should be overtaken.

Ahead we neither saw nor heard any sign which might betoken the success

of Hooja’s mission. By now he should have reached the outposts of the

Sarians, and we should at least hear the savage cries of the tribesmen

as they swarmed to arms in answer to their king’s appeal for succor. In

another moment the frowning cliffs ahead should be black with primeval

warriors. But nothing of the kind happened—as a matter of fact the Sly

One had betrayed us. At the moment that we expected to see Sarian

spearmen charging to our relief at Hooja’s back, the craven traitor was

sneaking around the outskirts of the nearest Sarian village, that he

might come up from the other side when it was too late to save us,

claiming that he had become lost among the mountains.

Hooja still harbored ill will against me because of the blow I had

struck in Dian’s protection, and his malevolent spirit was equal to

sacrificing us all that he might be revenged upon me.

As we drew nearer the barrier cliffs and no sign of rescuing Sarians

appeared Ghak became both angry and alarmed, and presently as the sound

of rapidly approaching pursuit fell upon our ears, he called to me over

his shoulder that we were lost.

A backward glance gave me a glimpse of the first of the Sagoths at the

far end of a considerable stretch of canyon through which we had just

passed, and then a sudden turning shut the ugly creature from my view;

but the loud howl of triumphant rage which rose behind us was evidence

that the gorilla-man had sighted us.

Again the canyon veered sharply to the left, but to the right another

branch ran on at a lesser deviation from the general direction, so that

appeared more like the main canyon than the lefthand branch. The

Sagoths were now not over two hundred and fifty yards behind us, and I

saw that it was hopeless for us to expect to escape other than by a

ruse. There was a bare chance of saving Ghak and Perry, and as I

reached the branching of the canyon I took the chance.

Pausing there I waited until the foremost Sagoth hove into sight. Ghak

and Perry had disappeared around a bend in the left-hand canyon, and as

the Sagoth’s savage yell announced that he had seen me I turned and

fled up the right-hand branch. My ruse was successful, and the entire

party of man-hunters raced headlong after me up one canyon while Ghak

bore Perry to safety up the other.

Running has never been my particular athletic forte, and now when my

very life depended upon fleetness of foot I cannot say that I ran any

better than on the occasions when my pitiful base running had called

down upon my head the rooter’s raucous and reproachful cries of “Ice

Wagon,” and “Call a cab.”

The Sagoths were gaining on me rapidly. There was one in particular,

fleeter than his fellows, who was perilously close. The canyon had

become a rocky slit, rising roughly at a steep angle toward what seemed

a pass between two abutting peaks. What lay beyond I could not even

guess—possibly a sheer drop of hundreds of feet into the corresponding

valley upon the other side. Could it be that I had plunged into a

cul-de-sac?

Realizing that I could not hope to outdistance the Sagoths to the top

of the canyon I had determined to risk all in an attempt to check them

temporarily, and to this end had unslung my rudely made bow and plucked

an arrow from the skin quiver which hung behind my shoulder. As I

fitted the shaft with my right hand I stopped and wheeled toward the

gorilla-man.

In the world of my birth I never had drawn a shaft, but since our

escape from Phutra I had kept the party supplied with small game by

means of my arrows, and so, through necessity, had developed a fair

degree of accuracy. During our flight from Phutra I had restrung my bow

with a piece of heavy gut taken from a huge tiger which Ghak and I had

worried and finally dispatched with arrows, spear, and sword. The hard

wood of the bow was extremely tough and this, with the strength and

elasticity of my new string, gave me unwonted confidence in my weapon.

Never had I greater need of steady nerves than then—never were my

nerves and muscles under better control. I sighted as carefully and

deliberately as though at a straw target. The Sagoth had never before

seen a bow and arrow, but of a sudden it must have swept over his dull

intellect that the thing I held toward him was some sort of engine of

destruction, for he too came to a halt, simultaneously swinging his

hatchet for a throw. It is one of the many methods in which they employ

this weapon, and the accuracy of aim which they achieve, even under the

most unfavorable circumstances, is little short of miraculous.

My shaft was drawn back its full length—my eye had centered its sharp

point upon the left breast of my adversary; and then he launched his

hatchet and I released my arrow. At the instant that our missiles flew

I leaped to one side, but the Sagoth sprang forward to follow up his

attack with a spear thrust. I felt the swish of the hatchet as it

grazed my head, and at the same instant my shaft pierced the Sagoth’s

savage heart, and with a single groan he lunged almost at my feet—stone

dead. Close behind him were two more—fifty yards perhaps—but the

distance gave me time to snatch up the dead guardsman’s shield, for the

close call his hatchet had just given me had borne in upon me the

urgent need I had for one. Those which I had purloined at Phutra we had

not been able to bring along because their size precluded our

concealing them within the skins of the Mahars which had brought us

safely from the city.

With the shield slipped well up on my left arm I let fly with another

arrow, which brought down a second Sagoth, and then as his fellow’s

hatchet sped toward me I caught it upon the shield, and fitted another

shaft for him; but he did not wait to receive it. Instead, he turned

and retreated toward the main body of gorilla-men. Evidently he had

seen enough of me for the moment.

Once more I took up my flight, nor were the Sagoths apparently

overanxious to press their pursuit so closely as before. Unmolested I

reached the top of the canyon where I found a sheer drop of two or

three hundred feet to the bottom of a rocky chasm; but on the left a

narrow ledge rounded the shoulder of the overhanging cliff. Along this

I advanced, and at a sudden turning, a few yards beyond the canyon’s

end, the path widened, and at my left I saw the opening to a large

cave. Before, the ledge continued until it passed from sight about

another projecting buttress of the mountain.

Here, I felt, I could defy an army, for but a single foeman could

advance upon me at a time, nor could he know that I was awaiting him

until he came full upon me around the corner of the turn. About me lay

scattered stones crumbled from the cliff above. They were of various

sizes and shapes, but enough were of handy dimensions for use as

ammunition in lieu of my precious arrows. Gathering a number of stones

into a little pile beside the mouth of the cave I waited the advance of

the Sagoths.

As I stood there, tense and silent, listening for the first faint sound

that should announce the approach of my enemies, a slight noise from

within the cave’s black depths attracted my attention. It might have

been produced by the moving of the great body of some huge beast rising

from the rock floor of its lair. At almost the same instant I thought

that I caught the scraping of hide sandals upon the ledge beyond the

turn. For the next few seconds my attention was considerably divided.

And then from the inky blackness at my right I saw two flaming eyes

glaring into mine. They were on a level that was over two feet above my

head. It is true that the beast who owned them might be standing upon a

ledge within the cave, or that it might be rearing up upon its hind

legs; but I had seen enough of the monsters of Pellucidar to know that

I might be facing some new and frightful Titan whose dimensions and

ferocity eclipsed those of any I had seen before.

Whatever it was, it was coming slowly toward the entrance of the cave,

and now, deep and forbidding, it uttered a low and ominous growl. I

waited no longer to dispute possession of the ledge with the thing

which owned that voice. The noise had not been loud—I doubt if the

Sagoths heard it at all—but the suggestion of latent possibilities

behind it was such that I knew it would only emanate from a gigantic

and ferocious beast.

As I backed along the ledge I soon was past the mouth of the cave,

where I no longer could see those fearful flaming eyes, but an instant

later I caught sight of the fiendish face of a Sagoth as it warily

advanced beyond the cliff’s turn on the far side of the cave’s mouth.

As the fellow saw me he leaped along the ledge in pursuit, and after

him came as many of his companions as could crowd upon each other’s

heels. At the same time the beast emerged from the cave, so that he and

the Sagoths came face to face upon that narrow ledge.

The thing was an enormous cave bear, rearing its colossal bulk fully

eight feet at the shoulder, while from the tip of its nose to the end

of its stubby tail it was fully twelve feet in length. As it sighted

the Sagoths it emitted a most frightful roar, and with open mouth

charged full upon them. With a cry of terror the foremost gorilla-man

turned to escape, but behind him he ran full upon his on-rushing

companions.

The horror of the following seconds is indescribable. The Sagoth

nearest the cave bear, finding his escape blocked, turned and leaped

deliberately to an awful death upon the jagged rocks three hundred feet

below. Then those giant jaws reached out and gathered in the next—there

was a sickening sound of crushing bones, and the mangled corpse was

dropped over the cliff’s edge. Nor did the mighty beast even pause in

his steady advance along the ledge.

Shrieking Sagoths were now leaping madly over the precipice to escape

him, and the last I saw he rounded the turn still pursuing the

demoralized remnant of the man hunters. For a long time I could hear

the horrid roaring of the brute intermingled with the screams and

shrieks of his victims, until finally the awful sounds dwindled and

disappeared in the distance.

Later I learned from Ghak, who had finally come to his tribesmen and

returned with a party to rescue me, that the ryth, as it is called,

pursued the Sagoths until it had exterminated the entire band. Ghak

was, of course, positive that I had fallen prey to the terrible

creature, which, within Pellucidar, is truly the king of beasts.

Not caring to venture back into the canyon, where I might fall prey

either to the cave bear or the Sagoths I continued on along the ledge,

believing that by following around the mountain I could reach the land

of Sari from another direction. But I evidently became confused by the

twisting and turning of the canyons and gullies, for I did not come to

the land of Sari then, nor for a long time thereafter.

XIV

THE GARDEN OF EDEN

With no heavenly guide, it is little wonder that I became confused and

lost in the labyrinthine maze of those mighty hills. What, in reality,

I did was to pass entirely through them and come out above the valley

upon the farther side. I know that I wandered for a long time, until

tired and hungry I came upon a small cave in the face of the limestone

formation which had taken the place of the granite farther back.

The cave which took my fancy lay halfway up the precipitous side of a

lofty cliff. The way to it was such that I knew no extremely formidable

beast could frequent it, nor was it large enough to make a comfortable

habitat for any but the smaller mammals or reptiles. Yet it was with

the utmost caution that I crawled within its dark interior.

Here I found a rather large chamber, lighted by a narrow cleft in the

rock above which let the sunlight filter in in sufficient quantities

partially to dispel the utter darkness which I had expected. The cave

was entirely empty, nor were there any signs of its having been

recently occupied. The opening was comparatively small, so that after

considerable effort I was able to lug up a bowlder from the valley

below which entirely blocked it.

Then I returned again to the valley for an armful of grasses and on

this trip was fortunate enough to knock over an orthopi, the diminutive

horse of Pellucidar, a little animal about the size of a fox terrier,

which abounds in all parts of the inner world. Thus, with food and

bedding I returned to my lair, where after a meal of raw meat, to which

I had now become quite accustomed, I dragged the bowlder before the

entrance and curled myself upon a bed of grasses—a naked, primeval,

cave man, as savagely primitive as my prehistoric progenitors.

I awoke rested but hungry, and pushing the bowlder aside crawled out

upon the little rocky shelf which was my front porch. Before me spread

a small but beautiful valley, through the center of which a clear and

sparkling river wound its way down to an inland sea, the blue waters of

which were just visible between the two mountain ranges which embraced

this little paradise. The sides of the opposite hills were green with

verdure, for a great forest clothed them to the foot of the red and

yellow and copper green of the towering crags which formed their

summit. The valley itself was carpeted with a luxuriant grass, while

here and there patches of wild flowers made great splashes of vivid

color against the prevailing green.

Dotted over the face of the valley were little clusters of palmlike

trees—three or four together as a rule. Beneath these stood antelope,

while others grazed in the open, or wandered gracefully to a nearby

ford to drink. There were several species of this beautiful animal, the

most magnificent somewhat resembling the giant eland of Africa, except

that their spiral horns form a complete curve backward over their ears

and then forward again beneath them, ending in sharp and formidable

points some two feet before the face and above the eyes. In size they

remind one of a pure bred Hereford bull, yet they are very agile and

fast. The broad yellow bands that stripe the dark roan of their coats

made me take them for zebra when I first saw them. All in all they are

handsome animals, and added the finishing touch to the strange and

lovely landscape that spread before my new home.

I had determined to make the cave my headquarters, and with it as a

base make a systematic exploration of the surrounding country in search

of the land of Sari. First I devoured the remainder of the carcass of

the orthopi I had killed before my last sleep. Then I hid the Great

Secret in a deep niche at the back of my cave, rolled the bowlder

before my front door, and with bow, arrows, sword, and shield scrambled

down into the peaceful valley.

The grazing herds moved to one side as I passed through them, the

little orthopi evincing the greatest wariness and galloping to safest

distances. All the animals stopped feeding as I approached, and after

moving to what they considered a safe distance stood contemplating me

with serious eyes and up-cocked ears. Once one of the old bull

antelopes of the striped species lowered his head and bellowed

angrily—even taking a few steps in my direction, so that I thought he

meant to charge; but after I had passed, he resumed feeding as though

nothing had disturbed him.

Near the lower end of the valley I passed a number of tapirs, and

across the river saw a great sadok, the enormous double-horned

progenitor of the modern rhinoceros. At the valley’s end the cliffs

upon the left ran out into the sea, so that to pass around them as I

desired to do it was necessary to scale them in search of a ledge along

which I might continue my journey. Some fifty feet from the base I came

upon a projection which formed a natural path along the face of the

cliff, and this I followed out over the sea toward the cliff’s end.

Here the ledge inclined rapidly upward toward the top of the cliffs—the

stratum which formed it evidently having been forced up at this steep

angle when the mountains behind it were born. As I climbed carefully up

the ascent my attention suddenly was attracted aloft by the sound of

strange hissing, and what resembled the flapping of wings.

And at the first glance there broke upon my horrified vision the most

frightful thing I had seen even within Pellucidar. It was a giant

dragon such as is pictured in the legends and fairy tales of earth

folk. Its huge body must have measured forty feet in length, while the

batlike wings that supported it in midair had a spread of fully thirty.

Its gaping jaws were armed with long, sharp teeth, and its claw

equipped with horrible talons.

The hissing noise which had first attracted my attention was issuing

from its throat, and seemed to be directed at something beyond and

below me which I could not see. The ledge upon which I stood terminated

abruptly a few paces farther on, and as I reached the end I saw the

cause of the reptile’s agitation.

Some time in past ages an earthquake had produced a fault at this

point, so that beyond the spot where I stood the strata had slipped

down a matter of twenty feet. The result was that the continuation of

my ledge lay twenty feet below me, where it ended as abruptly as did

the end upon which I stood.

And here, evidently halted in flight by this insurmountable break in

the ledge, stood the object of the creature’s attack—a girl cowering

upon the narrow platform, her face buried in her arms, as though to

shut out the sight of the frightful death which hovered just above her.

The dragon was circling lower, and seemed about to dart in upon its

prey. There was no time to be lost, scarce an instant in which to weigh

the possible chances that I had against the awfully armed creature; but

the sight of that frightened girl below me called out to all that was

best in me, and the instinct for protection of the other sex, which

nearly must have equaled the instinct of self-preservation in primeval

man, drew me to the girl’s side like an irresistible magnet.

Almost thoughtless of the consequences, I leaped from the end of the

ledge upon which I stood, for the tiny shelf twenty feet below. At the

same instant the dragon darted in toward the girl, but my sudden advent

upon the scene must have startled him for he veered to one side, and

then rose above us once more.

The noise I made as I landed beside her convinced the girl that the end

had come, for she thought I was the dragon; but finally when no cruel

fangs closed upon her she raised her eyes in astonishment. As they fell

upon me the expression that came into them would be difficult to

describe; but her feelings could scarcely have been one whit more

complicated than my own—for the wide eyes that looked into mine were

those of Dian the Beautiful.

“Dian!” I cried. “Dian! Thank God that I came in time.”

“You?” she whispered, and then she hid her face again; nor could I tell

whether she were glad or angry that I had come.

Once more the dragon was sweeping toward us, and so rapidly that I had

no time to unsling my bow. All that I could do was to snatch up a rock,

and hurl it at the thing’s hideous face. Again my aim was true, and

with a hiss of pain and rage the reptile wheeled once more and soared

away.

Quickly I fitted an arrow now that I might be ready at the next attack,

and as I did so I looked down at the girl, so that I surprised her in a

surreptitious glance which she was stealing at me; but immediately, she

again covered her face with her hands.

“Look at me, Dian,” I pleaded. “Are you not glad to see me?”

She looked straight into my eyes.

“I hate you,” she said, and then, as I was about to beg for a fair

hearing she pointed over my shoulder. “The thipdar comes,” she said,

and I turned again to meet the reptile.

So this was a thipdar. I might have known it. The cruel bloodhound of

the Mahars. The long-extinct pterodactyl of the outer world. But this

time I met it with a weapon it never had faced before. I had selected

my longest arrow, and with all my strength had bent the bow until the

very tip of the shaft rested upon the thumb of my left hand, and then

as the great creature darted toward us I let drive straight for that

tough breast.

Hissing like the escape valve of a steam engine, the mighty creature

fell turning and twisting into the sea below, my arrow buried

completely in its carcass. I turned toward the girl. She was looking

past me. It was evident that she had seen the thipdar die.

“Dian,” I said, “won’t you tell me that you are not sorry that I have

found you?”

“I hate you,” was her only reply; but I imagined that there was less

vehemence in it than before—yet it might have been but my imagination.

“Why do you hate me, Dian?” I asked, but she did not answer me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, “and what has happened to you since

Hooja freed you from the Sagoths?”

At first I thought that she was going to ignore me entirely, but

finally she thought better of it.

“I was again running away from Jubal the Ugly One,” she said. “After I

escaped from the Sagoths I made my way alone back to my own land; but

on account of Jubal I did not dare enter the villages or let any of my

friends know that I had returned for fear that Jubal might find out. By

watching for a long time I found that my brother had not yet returned,

and so I continued to live in a cave beside a valley which my race

seldom frequents, awaiting the time that he should come back and free

me from Jubal.

“But at last one of Jubal’s hunters saw me as I was creeping toward my

father’s cave to see if my brother had yet returned and he gave the

alarm and Jubal set out after me. He has been pursuing me across many

lands. He cannot be far behind me now. When he comes he will kill you

and carry me back to his cave. He is a terrible man. I have gone as far

as I can go, and there is no escape,” and she looked hopelessly up at

the continuation of the ledge twenty feet above us.

“But he shall not have me,” she suddenly cried, with great vehemence.

“The sea is there”—she pointed over the edge of the cliff—“and the sea

shall have me rather than Jubal.”

“But I have you now Dian,” I cried; “nor shall Jubal, nor any other

have you, for you are mine,” and I seized her hand, nor did I lift it

above her head and let it fall in token of release.

She had risen to her feet, and was looking straight into my eyes with

level gaze.

“I do not believe you,” she said, “for if you meant it you would have

done this when the others were present to witness it—then I should

truly have been your mate; now there is no one to see you do it, for

you know that without witnesses your act does not bind you to me,” and

she withdrew her hand from mine and turned away.

I tried to convince her that I was sincere, but she simply couldn’t

forget the humiliation that I had put upon her on that other occasion.

“If you mean all that you say you will have ample chance to prove it,”

she said, “if Jubal does not catch and kill you. I am in your power,

and the treatment you accord me will be the best proof of your

intentions toward me. I am not your mate, and again I tell you that I

hate you, and that I should be glad if I never saw you again.”

Dian certainly was candid. There was no gainsaying that. In fact I

found candor and directness to be quite a marked characteristic of the

cave men of Pellucidar. Finally I suggested that we make some attempt

to gain my cave, where we might escape the searching Jubal, for I am

free to admit that I had no considerable desire to meet the formidable

and ferocious creature, of whose mighty prowess Dian had told me when I

first met her. He it was who, armed with a puny knife, had met and

killed a cave bear in a hand-to-hand struggle. It was Jubal who could

cast his spear entirely through the armored carcass of the sadok at

fifty paces. It was he who had crushed the skull of a charging dyryth

with a single blow of his war club. No, I was not pining to meet the

Ugly One—and it was quite certain that I should not go out and hunt for

him; but the matter was taken out of my hands very quickly, as is often

the way, and I did meet Jubal the Ugly One face to face.

This is how it happened. I had led Dian back along the ledge the way

she had come, searching for a path that would lead us to the top of the

cliff, for I knew that we could then cross over to the edge of my own

little valley, where I felt certain we should find a means of ingress

from the cliff top. As we proceeded along the ledge I gave Dian minute

directions for finding my cave against the chance of something

happening to me. I knew that she would be quite safely hidden away from

pursuit once she gained the shelter of my lair, and the valley would

afford her ample means of sustenance.

Also, I was very much piqued by her treatment of me. My heart was sad

and heavy, and I wanted to make her feel badly by suggesting that

something terrible might happen to me—that I might, in fact, be killed.

But it didn’t work worth a cent, at least as far as I could perceive.

Dian simply shrugged those magnificent shoulders of hers, and murmured

something to the effect that one was not rid of trouble so easily as

that.

For a while I kept still. I was utterly squelched. And to think that I

had twice protected her from attack—the last time risking my life to

save hers. It was incredible that even a daughter of the Stone Age

could be so ungrateful—so heartless; but maybe her heart partook of the

qualities of her epoch.

Presently we found a rift in the cliff which had been widened and

extended by the action of the water draining through it from the

plateau above. It gave us a rather rough climb to the summit, but

finally we stood upon the level mesa which stretched back for several

miles to the mountain range. Behind us lay the broad inland sea,

curving upward in the horizonless distance to merge into the blue of

the sky, so that for all the world it looked as though the sea lapped

back to arch completely over us and disappear beyond the distant

mountains at our backs—the weird and uncanny aspect of the seascapes of

Pellucidar balk description.

At our right lay a dense forest, but to the left the country was open

and clear to the plateau’s farther verge. It was in this direction that

our way led, and we had turned to resume our journey when Dian touched

my arm. I turned to her, thinking that she was about to make peace

overtures; but I was mistaken.

“Jubal,” she said, and nodded toward the forest.

I looked, and there, emerging from the dense wood, came a perfect whale

of a man. He must have been seven feet tall, and proportioned

accordingly. He still was too far off to distinguish his features.

“Run,” I said to Dian. “I can engage him until you get a good start.

Maybe I can hold him until you have gotten entirely away,” and then,

without a backward glance, I advanced to meet the Ugly One. I had hoped

that Dian would have a kind word to say to me before she went, for she

must have known that I was going to my death for her sake; but she

never even so much as bid me good-bye, and it was with a heavy heart

that I strode through the flower-bespangled grass to my doom.

When I had come close enough to Jubal to distinguish his features I

understood how it was that he had earned the sobriquet of Ugly One.

Apparently some fearful beast had ripped away one entire side of his

face. The eye was gone, the nose, and all the flesh, so that his jaws

and all his teeth were exposed and grinning through the horrible scar.

Formerly he may have been as good to look upon as the others of his

handsome race, and it may be that the terrible result of this encounter

had tended to sour an already strong and brutal character. However this

may be it is quite certain that he was not a pretty sight, and now that

his features, or what remained of them, were distorted in rage at the

sight of Dian with another male, he was indeed most terrible to see—and

much more terrible to meet.

He had broken into a run now, and as he advanced he raised his mighty

spear, while I halted and fitting an arrow to my bow took as steady aim

as I could. I was somewhat longer than usual, for I must confess that

the sight of this awful man had wrought upon my nerves to such an

extent that my knees were anything but steady. What chance had I

against this mighty warrior for whom even the fiercest cave bear had no

terrors! Could I hope to best one who slaughtered the sadok and dyryth

singlehanded! I shuddered; but, in fairness to myself, my fear was more

for Dian than for my own fate.

And then the great brute launched his massive stone-tipped spear, and I

raised my shield to break the force of its terrific velocity. The

impact hurled me to my knees, but the shield had deflected the missile

and I was unscathed. Jubal was rushing upon me now with the only

remaining weapon that he carried—a murderous-looking knife. He was too

close for a careful bowshot, but I let drive at him as he came, without

taking aim. My arrow pierced the fleshy part of his thigh, inflicting a

painful but not disabling wound. And then he was upon me.

My agility saved me for the instant. I ducked beneath his raised arm,

and when he wheeled to come at me again he found a sword’s point in his

face. And a moment later he felt an inch or two of it in the muscles of

his knife arm, so that thereafter he went more warily.

It was a duel of strategy now—the great, hairy man maneuvering to get

inside my guard where he could bring those giant thews to play, while

my wits were directed to the task of keeping him at arm’s length.

Thrice he rushed me, and thrice I caught his knife blow upon my shield.

Each time my sword found his body—once penetrating to his lung. He was

covered with blood by this time, and the internal hemorrhage induced

paroxysms of coughing that brought the red stream through the hideous

mouth and nose, covering his face and breast with bloody froth. He was

a most unlovely spectacle, but he was far from dead.

As the duel continued I began to gain confidence, for, to be perfectly

candid, I had not expected to survive the first rush of that monstrous

engine of ungoverned rage and hatred. And I think that Jubal, from

utter contempt of me, began to change to a feeling of respect, and then

in his primitive mind there evidently loomed the thought that perhaps

at last he had met his master, and was facing his end.

At any rate it is only upon this hypothesis that I can account for his

next act, which was in the nature of a last resort—a sort of forlorn

hope, which could only have been born of the belief that if he did not

kill me quickly I should kill him. It happened on the occasion of his

fourth charge, when, instead of striking at me with his knife, he

dropped that weapon, and seizing my sword blade in both his hands

wrenched the weapon from my grasp as easily as from a babe.

Flinging it far to one side he stood motionless for just an instant

glaring into my face with such a horrid leer of malignant triumph as to

almost unnerve me—then he sprang for me with his bare hands. But it was

Jubal’s day to learn new methods of warfare. For the first time he had

seen a bow and arrows, never before that duel had he beheld a sword,

and now he learned what a man who knows may do with his bare fists.

As he came for me, like a great bear, I ducked again beneath his

outstretched arm, and as I came up planted as clean a blow upon his jaw

as ever you have seen. Down went that great mountain of flesh sprawling

upon the ground. He was so surprised and dazed that he lay there for

several seconds before he made any attempt to rise, and I stood over

him with another dose ready when he should gain his knees.

Up he came at last, almost roaring in his rage and mortification; but

he didn’t stay up—I let him have a left fair on the point of the jaw

that sent him tumbling over on his back. By this time I think Jubal had

gone mad with hate, for no sane man would have come back for more as

many times as he did. Time after time I bowled him over as fast as he

could stagger up, until toward the last he lay longer on the ground

between blows, and each time came up weaker than before.

He was bleeding very profusely now from the wound in his lungs, and

presently a terrific blow over the heart sent him reeling heavily to

the ground, where he lay very still, and somehow I knew at once that

Jubal the Ugly One would never get up again. But even as I looked upon

that massive body lying there so grim and terrible in death, I could

not believe that I, single-handed, had bested this slayer of fearful

beasts—this gigantic ogre of the Stone Age.

Picking up my sword I leaned upon it, looking down on the dead body of

my foeman, and as I thought of the battle I had just fought and won a

great idea was born in my brain—the outcome of this and the suggestion

that Perry had made within the city of Phutra. If skill and science

could render a comparative pygmy the master of this mighty brute, what

could not the brute’s fellows accomplish with the same skill and

science. Why all Pellucidar would be at their feet—and I would be their

king and Dian their queen.

Dian! A little wave of doubt swept over me. It was quite within the

possibilities of Dian to look down upon me even were I king. She was

quite the most superior person I ever had met—with the most convincing

way of letting you know that she was superior. Well, I could go to the

cave, and tell her that I had killed Jubal, and then she might feel

more kindly toward me, since I had freed her of her tormentor. I hoped

that she had found the cave easily—it would be terrible had I lost her

again, and I turned to gather up my shield and bow to hurry after her,

when to my astonishment I found her standing not ten paces behind me.

“Girl!” I cried, “what are you doing here? I thought that you had gone

to the cave, as I told you to do.”

Up went her head, and the look that she gave me took all the majesty

out of me, and left me feeling more like the palace janitor—if palaces

have janitors.

“As you told me to do!” she cried, stamping her little foot. “I do as I

please. I am the daughter of a king, and furthermore, I hate you.”

I was dumbfounded—this was my thanks for saving her from Jubal! I

turned and looked at the corpse. “May be that I saved you from a worse

fate, old man,” I said, but I guess it was lost on Dian, for she never

seemed to notice it at all.

“Let us go to my cave,” I said, “I am tired and hungry.”

She followed along a pace behind me, neither of us speaking. I was too

angry, and she evidently didn’t care to converse with the lower orders.

I was mad all the way through, as I had certainly felt that at least a

word of thanks should have rewarded me, for I knew that even by her own

standards, I must have done a very wonderful thing to have killed the

redoubtable Jubal in a hand-to-hand encounter.

We had no difficulty in finding my lair, and then I went down into the

valley and bowled over a small antelope, which I dragged up the steep

ascent to the ledge before the door. Here we ate in silence.

Occasionally I glanced at her, thinking that the sight of her tearing

at raw flesh with her hands and teeth like some wild animal would cause

a revulsion of my sentiments toward her; but to my surprise I found

that she ate quite as daintily as the most civilized woman of my

acquaintance, and finally I found myself gazing in foolish rapture at

the beauties of her strong, white teeth. Such is love.

After our repast we went down to the river together and bathed our

hands and faces, and then after drinking our fill went back to the

cave. Without a word I crawled into the farthest corner and, curling

up, was soon asleep.

When I awoke I found Dian sitting in the doorway looking out across the

valley. As I came out she moved to one side to let me pass, but she had

no word for me. I wanted to hate her, but I couldn’t. Every time I

looked at her something came up in my throat, so that I nearly choked.

I had never been in love before, but I did not need any aid in

diagnosing my case—I certainly had it and had it bad. God, how I loved

that beautiful, disdainful, tantalizing, prehistoric girl!

After we had eaten again I asked Dian if she intended returning to her

tribe now that Jubal was dead, but she shook her head sadly, and said

that she did not dare, for there was still Jubal’s brother to be

considered—his oldest brother.

“What has he to do with it?” I asked. “Does he too want you, or has the

option on you become a family heirloom, to be passed on down from

generation to generation?”

She was not quite sure as to what I meant.

“It is probable,” she said, “that they all will want revenge for the

death of Jubal—there are seven of them—seven terrible men. Someone may

have to kill them all, if I am to return to my people.”

It began to look as though I had assumed a contract much too large for

me—about seven sizes, in fact.

“Had Jubal any cousins?” I asked. It was just as well to know the worst

at once.

“Yes,” replied Dian, “but they don’t count—they all have mates. Jubal’s

brothers have no mates because Jubal could get none for himself. He was

so ugly that women ran away from him—some have even thrown themselves

from the cliffs of Amoz into the Darel Az rather than mate with the

Ugly One.”

“But what had that to do with his brothers?” I asked.

“I forget that you are not of Pellucidar,” said Dian, with a look of

pity mixed with contempt, and the contempt seemed to be laid on a

little thicker than the circumstance warranted—as though to make quite

certain that I shouldn’t overlook it. “You see,” she continued, “a

younger brother may not take a mate until all his older brothers have

done so, unless the older brother waives his prerogative, which Jubal

would not do, knowing that as long as he kept them single they would be

all the keener in aiding him to secure a mate.”

Noticing that Dian was becoming more communicative I began to entertain

hopes that she might be warming up toward me a bit, although upon what

slender thread I hung my hopes I soon discovered.

“As you dare not return to Amoz,” I ventured, “what is to become of you

since you cannot be happy here with me, hating me as you do?”

“I shall have to put up with you,” she replied coldly, “until you see

fit to go elsewhere and leave me in peace, then I shall get along very

well alone.”

I looked at her in utter amazement. It seemed incredible that even a

prehistoric woman could be so cold and heartless and ungrateful. Then I

arose.

“I shall leave you NOW,” I said haughtily, “I have had quite enough of

your ingratitude and your insults,” and then I turned and strode

majestically down toward the valley. I had taken a hundred steps in

absolute silence, and then Dian spoke.

“I hate you!” she shouted, and her voice broke—in rage, I thought.

I was absolutely miserable, but I hadn’t gone too far when I began to

realize that I couldn’t leave her alone there without protection, to

hunt her own food amid the dangers of that savage world. She might hate

me, and revile me, and heap indignity after indignity upon me, as she

already had, until I should have hated her; but the pitiful fact

remained that I loved her, and I couldn’t leave her there alone.

The more I thought about it the madder I got, so that by the time I

reached the valley I was furious, and the result of it was that I

turned right around and went up that cliff again as fast as I had come

down. I saw that Dian had left the ledge and gone within the cave, but

I bolted right in after her. She was lying upon her face on the pile of

grasses I had gathered for her bed. When she heard me enter she sprang

to her feet like a tigress.

“I hate you!” she cried.

Coming from the brilliant light of the noonday sun into the

semidarkness of the cave I could not see her features, and I was rather

glad, for I disliked to think of the hate that I should have read

there.

I never said a word to her at first. I just strode across the cave and

grasped her by the wrists, and when she struggled, I put my arm around

her so as to pinion her hands to her sides. She fought like a tigress,

but I took my free hand and pushed her head back—I imagine that I had

suddenly turned brute, that I had gone back a thousand million years,

and was again a veritable cave man taking my mate by force—and then I

kissed that beautiful mouth again and again.

“Dian,” I cried, shaking her roughly, “I love you. Can’t you understand

that I love you? That I love you better than all else in this world or

my own? That I am going to have you? That love like mine cannot be

denied?”

I noticed that she lay very still in my arms now, and as my eyes became

accustomed to the light I saw that she was smiling—a very contented,

happy smile. I was thunderstruck. Then I realized that, very gently,

she was trying to disengage her arms, and I loosened my grip upon them

so that she could do so. Slowly they came up and stole about my neck,

and then she drew my lips down to hers once more and held them there

for a long time. At last she spoke.

“Why didn’t you do this at first, David? I have been waiting so long.”

“What!” I cried. “You said that you hated me!”

“Did you expect me to run into your arms, and say that I loved you

before I knew that you loved me?” she asked.

“But I have told you right along that I love you,” I said. “Love speaks

in acts,” she replied. “You could have made your mouth say what you

wished it to say, but just now when you came and took me in your arms

your heart spoke to mine in the language that a woman’s heart

understands. What a silly man you are, David.”

“Then you haven’t hated me at all, Dian?” I asked.

“I have loved you always,” she whispered, “from the first moment that I

saw you, although I did not know it until that time you struck down

Hooja the Sly One, and then spurned me.”

“But I didn’t spurn you, dear,” I cried. “I didn’t know your ways—I

doubt if I do now. It seems incredible that you could have reviled me

so, and yet have cared for me all the time.”

“You might have known,” she said, “when I did not run away from you

that it was not hate which chained me to you. While you were battling

with Jubal, I could have run to the edge of the forest, and when I

learned the outcome of the combat it would have been a simple thing to

have eluded you and returned to my own people.”

“But Jubal’s brothers—and cousins—” I reminded her, “how about them?”

She smiled, and hid her face on my shoulder.

“I had to tell you SOMETHING, David,” she whispered. “I must needs have

SOME excuse for remaining near you.”

“You little sinner!” I exclaimed. “And you have caused me all this

anguish for nothing!”

“I have suffered even more,” she answered simply, “for I thought that

you did not love me, and I was helpless. I couldn’t come to you and

demand that my love be returned, as you have just come to me. Just now

when you went away hope went with you. I was wretched, terrified,

miserable, and my heart was breaking. I wept, and I have not done that

before since my mother died,” and now I saw that there was the moisture

of tears about her eyes. It was near to making me cry myself when I

thought of all that poor child had been through. Motherless and

unprotected; hunted across a savage, primeval world by that hideous

brute of a man; exposed to the attacks of the countless fearsome

denizens of its mountains, its plains, and its jungles—it was a miracle

that she had survived it all.

To me it was a revelation of the things my early forebears must have

endured that the human race of the outer crust might survive. It made

me very proud to think that I had won the love of such a woman. Of

course she couldn’t read or write; there was nothing cultured or

refined about her as you judge culture and refinement; but she was the

essence of all that is best in woman, for she was good, and brave, and

noble, and virtuous. And she was all these things in spite of the fact

that their observance entailed suffering and danger and possible death.

How much easier it would have been to have gone to Jubal in the first

place! She would have been his lawful mate. She would have been queen

in her own land—and it meant just as much to the cave woman to be a

queen in the Stone Age as it does to the woman of today to be a queen

now; it’s all comparative glory any way you look at it, and if there

were only half-naked savages on the outer crust today, you’d find that

it would be considerable glory to be the wife of a Dahomey chief.

I couldn’t help but compare Dian’s action with that of a splendid young

woman I had known in New York—I mean splendid to look at and to talk

to. She had been head over heels in love with a chum of mine—a clean,

manly chap—but she had married a broken-down, disreputable old

debauchee because he was a count in some dinky little European

principality that was not even accorded a distinctive color by Rand

McNally.

Yes, I was mighty proud of Dian.

After a time we decided to set out for Sari, as I was anxious to see

Perry, and to know that all was right with him. I had told Dian about

our plan of emancipating the human race of Pellucidar, and she was

fairly wild over it. She said that if Dacor, her brother, would only

return he could easily be king of Amoz, and that then he and Ghak could

form an alliance. That would give us a flying start, for the Sarians

and the Amozites were both very powerful tribes. Once they had been

armed with swords, and bows and arrows, and trained in their use we

were confident that they could overcome any tribe that seemed

disinclined to join the great army of federated states with which we

were planning to march upon the Mahars.

I explained the various destructive engines of war which Perry and I

could construct after a little experimentation—gunpowder, rifles,

cannon, and the like, and Dian would clap her hands, and throw her arms

about my neck, and tell me what a wonderful thing I was. She was

beginning to think that I was omnipotent although I really hadn’t done

anything but talk—but that is the way with women when they love. Perry

used to say that if a fellow was one-tenth as remarkable as his wife or

mother thought him, he would have the world by the tail with a

down-hill drag.

The first time we started for Sari I stepped into a nest of poisonous

vipers before we reached the valley. A little fellow stung me on the

ankle, and Dian made me come back to the cave. She said that I mustn’t

exercise, or it might prove fatal—if it had been a full-grown snake

that struck me she said, I wouldn’t have moved a single pace from the

nest—I’d have died in my tracks, so virulent is the poison. As it was I

must have been laid up for quite a while, though Dian’s poultices of

herbs and leaves finally reduced the swelling and drew out the poison.

The episode proved most fortunate, however, as it gave me an idea which

added a thousand-fold to the value of my arrows as missiles of offense

and defense. As soon as I was able to be about again, I sought out some

adult vipers of the species which had stung me, and having killed them,

I extracted their virus, smearing it upon the tips of several arrows.

Later I shot a hyaenodon with one of these, and though my arrow

inflicted but a superficial flesh wound the beast crumpled in death

almost immediately after he was hit.

We now set out once more for the land of the Sarians, and it was with

feelings of sincere regret that we bade good-bye to our beautiful

Garden of Eden, in the comparative peace and harmony of which we had

lived the happiest moments of our lives. How long we had been there I

did not know, for as I have told you, time had ceased to exist for me

beneath that eternal noonday sun—it may have been an hour, or a month

of earthly time; I do not know.

XV

BACK TO EARTH

We crossed the river and passed through the mountains beyond, and

finally we came out upon a great level plain which stretched away as

far as the eye could reach. I cannot tell you in what direction it

stretched even if you would care to know, for all the while that I was

within Pellucidar I never discovered any but local methods of

indicating direction—there is no north, no south, no east, no west. UP

is about the only direction which is well defined, and that, of course,

is DOWN to you of the outer crust. Since the sun neither rises nor sets

there is no method of indicating direction beyond visible objects such

as high mountains, forests, lakes, and seas.

The plain which lies beyond the white cliffs which flank the Darel Az

upon the shore nearest the Mountains of the Clouds is about as near to

any direction as any Pellucidarian can come. If you happen not to have

heard of the Darel Az, or the white cliffs, or the Mountains of the

Clouds you feel that there is something lacking, and long for the good

old understandable northeast and southwest of the outer world.

We had barely entered the great plain when we discovered two enormous

animals approaching us from a great distance. So far were they that we

could not distinguish what manner of beasts they might be, but as they

came closer, I saw that they were enormous quadrupeds, eighty or a

hundred feet long, with tiny heads perched at the top of very long

necks. Their heads must have been quite forty feet from the ground. The

beasts moved very slowly—that is their action was slow—but their

strides covered such a great distance that in reality they traveled

considerably faster than a man walks.

As they drew still nearer we discovered that upon the back of each sat

a human being. Then Dian knew what they were, though she never before

had seen one.

“They are lidis from the land of the Thorians,” she cried. “Thoria lies

at the outer verge of the Land of Awful Shadow. The Thorians alone of

all the races of Pellucidar ride the lidi, for nowhere else than beside

the dark country are they found.”

“What is the Land of Awful Shadow?” I asked.

“It is the land which lies beneath the Dead World,” replied Dian; “the

Dead World which hangs forever between the sun and Pellucidar above the

Land of Awful Shadow. It is the Dead World which makes the great shadow

upon this portion of Pellucidar.”

I did not fully understand what she meant, nor am I sure that I do yet,

for I have never been to that part of Pellucidar from which the Dead

World is visible; but Perry says that it is the moon of Pellucidar—a

tiny planet within a planet—and that it revolves around the earth’s

axis coincidently with the earth, and thus is always above the same

spot within Pellucidar.

I remember that Perry was very much excited when I told him about this

Dead World, for he seemed to think that it explained the hitherto

inexplicable phenomena of nutation and the precession of the equinoxes.

When the two upon the lidis had come quite close to us we saw that one

was a man and the other a woman. The former had held up his two hands,

palms toward us, in sign of peace, and I had answered him in kind, when

he suddenly gave a cry of astonishment and pleasure, and slipping from

his enormous mount ran forward toward Dian, throwing his arms about

her.

In an instant I was white with jealousy, but only for an instant; since

Dian quickly drew the man toward me, telling him that I was David, her

mate.

“And this is my brother, Dacor the Strong One, David,” she said to me.

It appeared that the woman was Dacor’s mate. He had found none to his

liking among the Sari, nor farther on until he had come to the land of

the Thoria, and there he had found and fought for this very lovely

Thorian maiden whom he was bringing back to his own people.

When they had heard our story and our plans they decided to accompany

us to Sari, that Dacor and Ghak might come to an agreement relative to

an alliance, as Dacor was quite as enthusiastic about the proposed

annihilation of the Mahars and Sagoths as either Dian or I.

After a journey which was, for Pellucidar, quite uneventful, we came to

the first of the Sarian villages which consists of between one and two

hundred artificial caves cut into the face of a great cliff. Here to

our immense delight, we found both Perry and Ghak. The old man was

quite overcome at sight of me for he had long since given me up as

dead.

When I introduced Dian as my wife, he didn’t quite know what to say,

but he afterward remarked that with the pick of two worlds I could not

have done better.

Ghak and Dacor reached a very amicable arrangement, and it was at a

council of the head men of the various tribes of the Sari that the

eventual form of government was tentatively agreed upon. Roughly, the

various kingdoms were to remain virtually independent, but there was to

be one great overlord, or emperor. It was decided that I should be the

first of the dynasty of the emperors of Pellucidar.

We set about teaching the women how to make bows and arrows, and poison

pouches. The young men hunted the vipers which provided the virus, and

it was they who mined the iron ore, and fashioned the swords under

Perry’s direction. Rapidly the fever spread from one tribe to another

until representatives from nations so far distant that the Sarians had

never even heard of them came in to take the oath of allegiance which

we required, and to learn the art of making the new weapons and using

them.

We sent our young men out as instructors to every nation of the

federation, and the movement had reached colossal proportions before

the Mahars discovered it. The first intimation they had was when three

of their great slave caravans were annihilated in rapid succession.

They could not comprehend that the lower orders had suddenly developed

a power which rendered them really formidable.

In one of the skirmishes with slave caravans some of our Sarians took a

number of Sagoth prisoners, and among them were two who had been

members of the guards within the building where we had been confined at

Phutra. They told us that the Mahars were frantic with rage when they

discovered what had taken place in the cellars of the buildings. The

Sagoths knew that something very terrible had befallen their masters,

but the Mahars had been most careful to see that no inkling of the true

nature of their vital affliction reached beyond their own race. How

long it would take for the race to become extinct it was impossible

even to guess; but that this must eventually happen seemed inevitable.

The Mahars had offered fabulous rewards for the capture of any one of

us alive, and at the same time had threatened to inflict the direst

punishment upon whomever should harm us. The Sagoths could not

understand these seemingly paradoxical instructions, though their

purpose was quite evident to me. The Mahars wanted the Great Secret,

and they knew that we alone could deliver it to them.

Perry’s experiments in the manufacture of gunpowder and the fashioning

of rifles had not progressed as rapidly as we had hoped—there was a

whole lot about these two arts which Perry didn’t know. We were both

assured that the solution of these problems would advance the cause of

civilization within Pellucidar thousands of years at a single stroke.

Then there were various other arts and sciences which we wished to

introduce, but our combined knowledge of them did not embrace the

mechanical details which alone could render them of commercial, or

practical value.

“David,” said Perry, immediately after his latest failure to produce

gunpowder that would even burn, “one of us must return to the outer

world and bring back the information we lack. Here we have all the

labor and materials for reproducing anything that ever has been

produced above—what we lack is knowledge. Let us go back and get that

knowledge in the shape of books—then this world will indeed be at our

feet.”

And so it was decided that I should return in the prospector, which

still lay upon the edge of the forest at the point where we had first

penetrated to the surface of the inner world. Dian would not listen to

any arrangement for my going which did not include her, and I was not

sorry that she wished to accompany me, for I wanted her to see my

world, and I wanted my world to see her.

With a large force of men we marched to the great iron mole, which

Perry soon had hoisted into position with its nose pointed back toward

the outer crust. He went over all the machinery carefully. He

replenished the air tanks, and manufactured oil for the engine. At last

everything was ready, and we were about to set out when our pickets, a

long, thin line of which had surrounded our camp at all times, reported

that a great body of what appeared to be Sagoths and Mahars were

approaching from the direction of Phutra.

Dian and I were ready to embark, but I was anxious to witness the first

clash between two fair-sized armies of the opposing races of

Pellucidar. I realized that this was to mark the historic beginning of

a mighty struggle for possession of a world, and as the first emperor

of Pellucidar I felt that it was not alone my duty, but my right, to be

in the thick of that momentous struggle.

As the opposing army approached we saw that there were many Mahars with

the Sagoth troops—an indication of the vast importance which the

dominant race placed upon the outcome of this campaign, for it was not

customary with them to take active part in the sorties which their

creatures made for slaves—the only form of warfare which they waged

upon the lower orders.

Ghak and Dacor were both with us, having come primarily to view the

prospector. I placed Ghak with some of his Sarians on the right of our

battle line. Dacor took the left, while I commanded the center. Behind

us I stationed a sufficient reserve under one of Ghak’s head men. The

Sagoths advanced steadily with menacing spears, and I let them come

until they were within easy bowshot before I gave the word to fire.

At the first volley of poison-tipped arrows the front ranks of the

gorilla-men crumpled to the ground; but those behind charged over the

prostrate forms of their comrades in a wild, mad rush to be upon us

with their spears. A second volley stopped them for an instant, and

then my reserve sprang through the openings in the firing line to

engage them with sword and shield. The clumsy spears of the Sagoths

were no match for the swords of the Sarian and Amozite, who turned the

spear thrusts aside with their shields and leaped to close quarters

with their lighter, handier weapons.

Ghak took his archers along the enemy’s flank, and while the swordsmen

engaged them in front, he poured volley after volley into their

unprotected left. The Mahars did little real fighting, and were more in

the way than otherwise, though occasionally one of them would fasten

its powerful jaw upon the arm or leg of a Sarian.

The battle did not last a great while, for when Dacor and I led our men

in upon the Sagoth’s right with naked swords they were already so

demoralized that they turned and fled before us. We pursued them for

some time, taking many prisoners and recovering nearly a hundred

slaves, among whom was Hooja the Sly One.

He told me that he had been captured while on his way to his own land;

but that his life had been spared in hope that through him the Mahars

would learn the whereabouts of their Great Secret. Ghak and I were

inclined to think that the Sly One had been guiding this expedition to

the land of Sari, where he thought that the book might be found in

Perry’s possession; but we had no proof of this and so we took him in

and treated him as one of us, although none liked him. And how he

rewarded my generosity you will presently learn.

There were a number of Mahars among our prisoners, and so fearful were

our own people of them that they would not approach them unless

completely covered from the sight of the reptiles by a piece of skin.

Even Dian shared the popular superstition regarding the evil effects of

exposure to the eyes of angry Mahars, and though I laughed at her fears

I was willing enough to humor them if it would relieve her apprehension

in any degree, and so she sat apart from the prospector, near which the

Mahars had been chained, while Perry and I again inspected every

portion of the mechanism.

At last I took my place in the driving seat, and called to one of the

men without to fetch Dian. It happened that Hooja stood quite close to

the doorway of the prospector, so that it was he who, without my

knowledge, went to bring her; but how he succeeded in accomplishing the

fiendish thing he did, I cannot guess, unless there were others in the

plot to aid him. Nor can I believe that, since all my people were loyal

to me and would have made short work of Hooja had he suggested the

heartless scheme, even had he had time to acquaint another with it. It

was all done so quickly that I may only believe that it was the result

of sudden impulse, aided by a number of, to Hooja, fortuitous

circumstances occurring at precisely the right moment.

All I know is that it was Hooja who brought Dian to the prospector,

still wrapped from head to toe in the skin of an enormous cave lion

which covered her since the Mahar prisoners had been brought into camp.

He deposited his burden in the seat beside me. I was all ready to get

under way. The good-byes had been said. Perry had grasped my hand in

the last, long farewell. I closed and barred the outer and inner doors,

took my seat again at the driving mechanism, and pulled the starting

lever.

As before on that far-gone night that had witnessed our first trial of

the iron monster, there was a frightful roaring beneath us—the giant

frame trembled and vibrated—there was a rush of sound as the loose

earth passed up through the hollow space between the inner and outer

jackets to be deposited in our wake. Once more the thing was off.

But on the instant of departure I was nearly thrown from my seat by the

sudden lurching of the prospector. At first I did not realize what had

happened, but presently it dawned upon me that just before entering the

crust the towering body had fallen through its supporting scaffolding,

and that instead of entering the ground vertically we were plunging

into it at a different angle. Where it would bring us out upon the

upper crust I could not even conjecture. And then I turned to note the

effect of this strange experience upon Dian. She still sat shrouded in

the great skin.

“Come, come,” I cried, laughing, “come out of your shell. No Mahar eyes

can reach you here,” and I leaned over and snatched the lion skin from

her. And then I shrank back upon my seat in utter horror.

The thing beneath the skin was not Dian—it was a hideous Mahar.

Instantly I realized the trick that Hooja had played upon me, and the

purpose of it. Rid of me, forever as he doubtless thought, Dian would

be at his mercy. Frantically I tore at the steering wheel in an effort

to turn the prospector back toward Pellucidar; but, as on that other

occasion, I could not budge the thing a hair.

It is needless to recount the horrors or the monotony of that journey.

It varied but little from the former one which had brought us from the

outer to the inner world. Because of the angle at which we had entered

the ground the trip required nearly a day longer, and brought me out

here upon the sand of the Sahara instead of in the United States as I

had hoped.

For months I have been waiting here for a white man to come. I dared

not leave the prospector for fear I should never be able to find it

again—the shifting sands of the desert would soon cover it, and then my

only hope of returning to my Dian and her Pellucidar would be gone

forever.

That I ever shall see her again seems but remotely possible, for how

may I know upon what part of Pellucidar my return journey may

terminate—and how, without a north or south or an east or a west may I

hope ever to find my way across that vast world to the tiny spot where

my lost love lies grieving for me?

That is the story as David Innes told it to me in the goat-skin tent

upon the rim of the great Sahara Desert. The next day he took me out to

see the prospector—it was precisely as he had described it. So huge was

it that it could have been brought to this inaccessible part of the

world by no means of transportation that existed there—it could only

have come in the way that David Innes said it came—up through the crust

of the earth from the inner world of Pellucidar.

I spent a week with him, and then, abandoning my lion hunt, returned

directly to the coast and hurried to London where I purchased a great

quantity of stuff which he wished to take back to Pellucidar with him.

There were books, rifles, revolvers, ammunition, cameras, chemicals,

telephones, telegraph instruments, wire, tools and more books—books

upon every subject under the sun. He said he wanted a library with

which they could reproduce the wonders of the twentieth century in the

Stone Age and if quantity counts for anything I got it for him.

I took the things back to Algeria myself, and accompanied them to the

end of the railroad; but from here I was recalled to America upon

important business. However, I was able to employ a very trustworthy

man to take charge of the caravan—the same guide, in fact, who had

accompanied me on the previous trip into the Sahara—and after writing a

long letter to Innes in which I gave him my American address, I saw the

expedition head south.

Among the other things which I sent to Innes was over five hundred

miles of double, insulated wire of a very fine gauge. I had it packed

on a special reel at his suggestion, as it was his idea that he could

fasten one end here before he left and by paying it out through the end

of the prospector lay a telegraph line between the outer and inner

worlds. In my letter I told him to be sure to mark the terminus of the

line very plainly with a high cairn, in case I was not able to reach

him before he set out, so that I might easily find and communicate with

him should he be so fortunate as to reach Pellucidar.

I received several letters from him after I returned to America—in fact

he took advantage of every northward-passing caravan to drop me word of

some sort. His last letter was written the day before he intended to

depart. Here it is.

MY DEAR FRIEND:

Tomorrow I shall set out in quest of Pellucidar and Dian. That is if

the Arabs don’t get me. They have been very nasty of late. I don’t know

the cause, but on two occasions they have threatened my life. One, more

friendly than the rest, told me today that they intended attacking me

tonight. It would be unfortunate should anything of that sort happen

now that I am so nearly ready to depart.

However, maybe I will be as well off, for the nearer the hour

approaches, the slenderer my chances for success appear.

Here is the friendly Arab who is to take this letter north for me, so

good-bye, and God bless you for your kindness to me.

The Arab tells me to hurry, for he sees a cloud of sand to the south—he

thinks it is the party coming to murder me, and he doesn’t want to be

found with me. So good-bye again.

Yours,

DAVID INNES.

A year later found me at the end of the railroad once more, headed for

the spot where I had left Innes. My first disappointment was when I

discovered that my old guide had died within a few weeks of my return,

nor could I find any member of my former party who could lead me to the

same spot.

For months I searched that scorching land, interviewing countless

desert sheiks in the hope that at last I might find one who had heard

of Innes and his wonderful iron mole. Constantly my eyes scanned the

blinding waste of sand for the rocky cairn beneath which I was to find

the wires leading to Pellucidar—but always was I unsuccessful.

And always do these awful questions harass me when I think of David

Innes and his strange adventures.

Did the Arabs murder him, after all, just on the eve of his departure?

Or, did he again turn the nose of his iron monster toward the inner

world? Did he reach it, or lies he somewhere buried in the heart of the

great crust? And if he did come again to Pellucidar was it to break

through into the bottom of one of her great island seas, or among some

savage race far, far from the land of his heart’s desire?

Does the answer lie somewhere upon the bosom of the broad Sahara, at

the end of two tiny wires, hidden beneath a lost cairn? I wonder.