A RECONNOITRE
Whether the fruit I had eaten produced a soporific effect, or whether I
was physically exhausted by my recent experience in the balloon and the
subsequent events, is more than I know, but in the heat of that day, in
the camp of the Links, I grew so drowsy that sleep was not to be
resisted. For at least forty-eight hours and perhaps for sixty, or more,
I had not so much as taken off my shoes. Feeling confident of the
friendly attitude of the tribe of creatures, I finally removed nearly
all of my clothing, made a bed in the shade of a tree and sank at once
into dreamless slumber. The last thing I remembered was that Fatty had
taken up a position near by, much as a faithful dog might do, to watch
against intrusion. Necessarily my every movement had been observed by a
large and appreciative audience of Links.
In the late afternoon I awoke, amazingly refreshed. Such a chattering
and game of chase was in progress that I sat up abruptly. Every stitch
of the clothing with which I had covered myself, had disappeared. In a
moment I beheld it, then, in fragments. The male Links—all but Fatty—had
gone off on some expedition, but the females were there in force and
these had appropriated coat, vest, trousers and shoes. My trousers were
occupied by two different “ladies,” one of whom had a half, pulled wrong
side out. She wore it jauntily on her arm, while the other had both her
feet inside the other portion, and was consequently falling down at
every movement, thereby furnishing no end of enthusiasm in her efforts
at marching on dress-parade. My vest had become a breech-clout, ripped
up the back. Evidently instinct suggests robing the legs, for my coat
was employed in this manner by a female of peculiarly thin proportions.
Her inordinate vanity, begotten of the attention she attracted, was
quite human, as also was the savage jealousy of other females who made
ineffectual efforts to rip the article off for themselves.
The fate of my shoes concerned me more than anything else, for my feet
were too tender for tramping about without protection, not to speak of
the risk incurred from the presence of poisonous snakes.
“Here,” I shouted, “bring me those things, you critters!”
They started in alarm at my voice, but none made a move to restore my
property. I then discovered one of my shoes suspended on the breast of
the tall albino “woman,” hung about her neck by the laces. The other had
fallen to the lot of perfidious Fatty, who, having put it on his foot,
heel foremost, was hopping about on one leg only, while he held the
other, more precious, booted leg as high as possible, and pounded on his
great glistening stomach as if executing an eccentric dance to his own
music.
I strode over the ground gingerly, clad in a shirt, and the belt with
the knife about my waist, going first to the dancer, whom I bowled on
his back and divested of the shoe, literally before he could say Jack
Robinson. After that I jerked the other shoe from the neck of the female
so quickly that she ran away in alarm to the cave. This latter action
incited a show of incipient resentment on the part of the old female who
muttered to herself. But inasmuch as she beheld some of the other guilty
creatures divest themselves of sundry pieces of my wardrobe and flee,
leaving them on the ground, she conceived an idea of the respect my
knife had engendered in the tribe. She therefore stood sullenly watching
me as I made shift to put on my shoes, a pair of leggings and a loin
cloth, which I hastily constructed of the pieces left of my pantaloons.
The “lady” with my coat had quickly climbed a tree to avoid being
obliged to deliver the garment. Fatty, bearing no resentment and being
obviously devoted to my interests, gave chase. Although the female
proved the more agile of the two, she fell into the clutches of another
of her sex and between them they tore the coat all in shreds many of
which Fatty finally brought to my feet with excessive demonstrations of
pride.
By the time my toilet was complete, nearly all the females were up in
the trees, looking down upon me with nervous, questioning eyes. I
reflected how fortunate it was that they were at least partially human,
for their strength was enormous and had they been unreasoning animals,
and therefore ferocious, they might easily have rended me to pieces for
less exasperation than I had already given.
I felt ill at ease as it was; I began to be restless, worried, eager to
be gone. Where had the wind-driven balloon landed me, I wondered? What
course had I best pursue? What would these Links do, or attempt to do if
I sought to leave? I could not remain here, under any circumstances, I
said to myself. Think how absurd it would be to live with a lot of
Missing Links!
From where I stood I could see the peak of the volcanic mountain, less
than half an hour’s journey away. Instantly I made up my mind to visit
this eminence and get my bearings. I might be able to see the ocean
itself; if I could, then the sooner I made a bee-line for the coast the
better for me.
There was considerable excitement among the “women” when I started away.
They had doubtless been instructed to keep me there in safety till the
return of the males. Fatty made an eloquent verbal protest, singularly
plain to comprehend, although the words were the merest gibberish, but
seeing that I intended to be master of my actions, he followed anxiously
at my heels.
Fortunately there was open country between the camp and the volcanic
pile. Nevertheless the way was not all of grass and flowers, for we were
obliged to fight our way through narrow belts of trees and vines and to
scale the sides of several chasms, all but one of which had been formed,
apparently, by earthquakes of the greatest violence. In the one
exception, which was the bed of an ancient river, I saw much evidence of
mineral deposits, chiefly iron. Strewn along here, in the sand, were
bright, crystalline formations which I recognised presently as being
pyrites of iron. Afterward I thought of these, having remembered that
with this stuff and flint, a spark of fire may be procured quite
readily. None of the mineral features held my attention above a moment,
however, the peak being the objective point of my march.
It is difficult for me to express the feverish anxiety I felt to mount
the summit of that hill. It seemed as if everything depended on what I
should see from the elevation. Half way up the slope, which was not at
all steep, my weight broke away the top of a ledge of crumbling stuff,
which proved to be sulphur of great purity. I had never seen a deposit
of natural sulphur before, although I had read of mines of the mineral
on volcanoes of Mexico, notably Popocatapetl. I merely placed a bit in
the pocket of my shirt and went on. Further up, my attention was
attracted by innumerable fragments of glass-like substance, with dark,
smoky lines woven through, in the form of a rude feather. Such stuff had
often come to my notice on the mountains of Nevada, where, as boys, we
called it flint, erroneously, I was afterward informed. A few pieces of
this I likewise placed in my pocket, but my main desire was to hurry
upward.
We reached the summit, from which all traces of the crater had
disappeared, through lapse of time since the last eruption, and there my
heart sank within me. There was no sight nor sign of the sea on all the
wide horizon. Far and away below me lay the dark, undulating
cloth-of-green, jungle after jungle and range after range of densely
wooded hills. In one direction, about forty miles away, were mountains
of greater height than the one I was on. These tempted me to hurry
onward toward their peaks, but I knew how vain was such a desire. To the
eastward I caught a glimpse of a shimmering lake, hedged about with
forest which I knew to be practically impenetrable.
All this panorama was marvellously beautiful, but for me beauty was
mockery. I stood as good a chance to fly over the hills and trees to the
sea as I did of reaching the coast by tramping across the country. I
realized that without a guide and a force of resolute, hard-working men,
loyal, and afraid of nothing, escape was a dream—a hope as fatal as a
will-o’-the-wisp.
Nevertheless I determined that I would regain the world I had left in
such an amazing manner. Wild dreams of enslaving the tribe of Missing
Links, whom I should make my warriors, and who would then escort me to
the coast, danced through my brain. Prodigious schemes for accomplishing
some superhuman feat—which was wholly vague and constructed of air—made
me twitch with nervous energy. It seemed as if I ought to be able to
grasp something big—to force the marvellous to come to my aid. Then the
reaction of despair succeeded; all my intangible ideas mocked me with
their silliness. I felt inconceivably helpless. The enormity of the
tropical hedge by which I was completely surrounded—a hedge alive with
venomous snakes, doubtless with tigers, with droves of savage beasts,
and with perhaps more savage men,—this arose in my brain as a picture
which made me ill with dread.
“Great Scott!” I finally said aloud, to myself, “are you such a
miserable coward, then? By gracious—no! There must be some way—there has
to be a way! Hang it, at the worst a man can merely die!”
This speech, which startled Fatty not a little, gave me a new sort of
courage. I began to think of things I must do to live, and of plans I
must formulate to explore the country. I nearly forgot that my lot had
been cast with the singular man-gorillas, but this was presently thrust
upon my notice by Fatty, who made a noise very like to whining, to
indicate his uneasiness and desire to return to the camp. The sun was
nearly set. I fancied I saw something move, in a tangle far below, but
concluded this something was merely a shadow.
“All right, Fatty,” said I, and we started down the hill.