[Illustration]
THE DAY OF RESIS.
BY
LILLIAN FRANCES MENTOR.
ILLUSTRATED BY
HARRY L. V. PARKHURST.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK:
COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY
_G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers_.
MDCCCXCVII.
[_All rights reserved._]
CONTENTS.
Chapter Page
I. The Strange Document 7
II. Into the Heart of Africa 17
III. In the Cavern 27
IV. Death Faces Them 35
V. The City of “On” 43
VI. The Banquet 50
VII. The Law of the Land of On 59
VIII. The Royal Hunt 73
IX. The Gold Mine and Cave of Ice 81
X. The Journey to the Lake 89
XI. The Fight of the Sea Monsters 94
XII. The Night of Prayer 101
XIII. The Accusation 107
XIV. The Storm 114
XV. In the Track of the Storm 121
XVI. Enola Found 129
XVII. “She is Mad.” 134
XVIII. Onrai Visits the Priest 139
XIX. Onrai Confesses his Love 148
XX. The Agony of Onrai 156
XXI. In Peril 162
XXII. “They must Die” 168
XXIII. A Message from the Priest 179
XXIV. The Crisis Past 185
XXV. “He will Marry You” 189
XXVI. A Strange Discovery 195
XXVII. In the Hole 201
XXVIII. Prisoners in the Cavern of the Dead 209
XXIX. The Death-Trap 219
XXX. The Cave Dweller’s Funeral 225
XXXI. Lost in the Cavern 235
XXXII. The Tortuous Tramp 248
XXXIII. Again in the World of Light 256
XXXIV. Again with Friends 261
XXXV. A Black Surprise 265
XXXVI. Cleft by the Earthquake 273
XXXVII. In the Crater 280
XXXVIII. Killed in the Crevice 290
XXXIX. The Field of Diamonds 298
XL. The Camp of the Onians 303
XLI. The Slaughter 312
XLII. Buried Alive 323
XLIII. Lost 331
XLIV. Out of the Ashes 339
XLV. Searching for Bodies 347
XLVI. We Die Together 358
XLVII. In the City Again 366
XLVIII. No Hope of Escape 376
XLIX. The Day of Resis 385
THE DAY OF RESIS.
CHAPTER I.
THE STRANGE DOCUMENT.
The following letter and document were the first causes of the long
journey, and strange adventure.
“DEAR MISS CAMERON:—You will probably be much surprised to hear from me
in this out-of-the-way place, but knowing the pleasure you take in
everything pertaining to Africa, I thought you might be interested in a
matter which came before my notice recently.
Some months ago I joined a hunting party bound for the interior of
Africa, and on our return march at Rehenoko we fell in with another
caravan bound for the coast. Having a common destination, Zanzibar, we
travelled together. An Abyssinian, Sedai by name, was in charge of this
caravan. He is a large, powerful man, and very intelligent. I often
talked with him during the long marches, and one day he told me that he
had on this trip, come across a strange manuscript, a part of which he
had been able to decipher, but some words of which he could not make
out. He asked me to help him decipher the difficult phrases; so that
evening, after everything had been made snug for the night, Sedai
produced a piece of goat-skin, on which was inscribed the following
strange tale.
‘Name Philip Harding—English—left England July 6, 1801—Zanzibar,
February 16, 1802—expedition just left Bagamayo—myself and nine other
sailors started to overtake it—on 26th, lost our way—wandered long and
far—hostile tribes—fight—four men killed—others escaped—three die with
fever, reach mountains—one man killed by lion—discover opening into
mountain—make torches and enter—companion starved—discovered line of
broken stones—followed these—found bridge—crossed this—followed stones
again—found secret door—Land of On—people thought me from another
planet—lived in temple—strange people—no knowledge or connection with
outside world—highly civilized in their way—have strange Day of
Resis—mysterious ceremonies on this day—people never mention it—day
sacred—here nineteen years one month and sixteen days—made escape—looked
five days for opening key—removed stone set in cliff behind palm tree
under eagle’s rock mountain—lifted lever seen in spring—rock door turned
giving time to pass through—passed into cave—crossed bridge—dropped
torches in lake, am lost—exhausted—starving—if document ever found write
friends—growing weaker—can write no mo——’
Here the writing ended. The first part, or that part which had been
written before entering the cave was in regular lines, but the last was
evidently written after entering the dark cave, or passage, as the
characters were scattered and very irregular. Sedai intends placing the
matter before the next party who are about to enter the interior, and
have them look up the mysterious cave and land. He says that the old
man, of whom he got the manuscript, is still living, and knows the
entrance to the cave, in which he found the body of Harding still warm,
and on it this strange document.
Sedai is a trustworthy fellow, or otherwise I would take no stock in his
story, or manuscript.
Hoping you may find some interest in this strange tale, I am,
Very Sincerely Yours,
FRANK BOYD.”
Such was the letter and weird tale which came in Enola Cameron’s mail
one morning in the early nineties. Only the fact of hearing from Frank
Boyd in Zanzibar surprised her. The story in itself did not surprise
her, for she had so long made a study of Africa and its dark secrets,
that nothing pertaining to it seemed strange to her. She was as
enthusiastic in this research as most women were in studying the art of
dress and beauty. She had met the great explorer Stanley during his late
visit to New York, and had read the story of his travels again and
again. She had met Herbert Warde socially, had overhauled his trophies
to her heart’s content, and his books had also been added to the long
shelf of African works in her library. Here poor Jameson’s story had
filled her eyes with tears, and here, too, she had escorted Glave that
she might, in confidence, reveal to him the one great desire of her
heart, and to learn from him the possibility of its fulfillment. She had
studied the history of the dark continent from every obtainable source.
Works, which for the average woman held no attraction, aroused in her
the liveliest interest. Her enthusiasm had reached such a pitch that but
one course seemed open to her, namely, to experience the adventures
which had made the names of Baker, Grant, Speke, Livingstone and Stanley
famous. She had passed her twentieth birthday; she was of medium height
and well-rounded figure, brimming over with health and strength, as was
shown by her clear, rosy complexion and bright eyes, which lighted up
with enthusiasm as new thoughts opened to life in her active brain.
There was nothing of the so-called New Woman about her; far from it; she
was a womanly woman with a great sympathetic heart and kindly nature.
She was an orphan, her parents having died when she was yet a child,
leaving her with a life-long friend of the mother. This was Mrs. Graham,
a most estimable woman, wealthy and moving in the best circle in the
city in which they lived. Enola had long since learned to look upon Mrs.
Graham and her kind husband as her second parents, and she was as dearly
loved by them as were their own children. She had a snug fortune of her
own and was thoroughly independent.
But now that she had made up her mind to go to Africa and ascertain the
truth, or fallacy, of the tale which had just reached her, she felt a
little hesitancy in broaching the subject to her friends. But she was
not the one to be intimidated so easily, so went direct to the library,
where she knew that Mr. Graham and Harry, the son, would be, and opened
the subject at once.
“Uncle,” she said (she always called her second parents uncle and aunt),
“I am going to Africa, and will want your help.”
Mr. Graham’s glasses fell from his nose, so suddenly did he look up.
“To Africa,” said he; “Well, has it come to this.”
“Exactly,” said Enola. “Now don’t look as if I had declared my intention
of committing suicide, although in your eyes I suppose the two are
synonymous.”
“When do you start?” asked Mr. Graham. Having long since learned that to
cross Enola was to make her the more determined to carry out her own
plans.
“To-day or to-morrow, or as soon as you can make preparations. Now
remember, I am only suggesting this adventure; you are the real
instigator of the project, and have asked me to accompany you, you
know.”
“Well, if that isn’t a woman for you,” said Mr. Graham, laughing in
spite of himself. “You come here declaring your intention of going to
Africa, asking my help and then tell me that it is I who must assume all
responsibility. Well, I will do it for your sake, but I hope it is not
to be out of the regular beaten paths of travel in Africa, for it might
not be pleasant, you know, fighting hostile natives with a woman about.”
And Mr. Graham again laughed.
“The woman will take care of herself, never fear,” said Enola. “But
seriously, uncle, I never would have asked you to accompany me on this
journey, but for your having spoken some time ago of your intention of
going to France to spend your vacation, and the thought occurred to me
that you might care to go with me for two reasons. First, of course, to
be my escort, and secondly, because the adventure would please you. And
as for the danger, from what I can glean from Mr. Boyd’s letter, I
should say that we will not meet with any great amount of this, for,
from the coast to the mountains, the road leads through a comparatively
open country, and if we start now we will get to Zanzibar about the
right time to enter the interior. I anticipate but very little trouble
in reaching the mountains. What will happen after that I cannot say.”
“The adventure will just suit my ideas of such things,” said Mr. Graham,
“and I will go with you gladly. And you want to start immediately?”
“Why, yes,” said Enola. “This man Sedai was to present the matter before
the first party entering the interior, and if we should wish to be the
ones to discover this strange land, we must lose no time in getting to
Zanzibar. It will not take long to make preparations, will it?”
“Well, no,” said Mr. Graham. “We will take but very little with us from
this country, for everything can be obtained in Zanzibar. Let us see,”
and he consults a New York paper. “To-day is Friday and the Paris sails
from New York next Wednesday. We can leave here on Sunday evening if you
wish to, and mother and Nellie can get packed in that time, and arrive
in New York Tuesday morning. We can make what few purchases we need, and
go on the steamer that same night. Now what do you think of that for
quick work?”
“I see you are quite as enthusiastic as myself in this matter,” said
Enola. “But where will we leave Auntie and Nellie while we are making
our longer journey?”
“Oh, they can stop somewhere in Europe,” said Mr. Graham, “or go on to
Zanzibar if they wish, and wait there for our return. I am afraid,
Enola, that you will have harder work to convince them of the
advisability of this trip, than you have had with me.”
“I am afraid so,” said Enola, “but you must help me.”
“I will do the best I can,” said Mr. Graham.
“But look here,” said Harry, who had kept perfectly quiet up to this
time. “Where do I come in?”
“Why, Harry, I supposed you understood that you were to accompany us,”
said Enola. “Your father is perfectly willing, I know, and your mother
will not object when she learns that I am determined on going. It will
be pleasanter to have you with us, for there will be so few of us at the
most, and among strangers home faces will be very comforting.”
“It will have to be pleasant or otherwise,” said Harry, “for I intend
accompanying you, most certainly. I wouldn’t see you take such a journey
without me. There ought to be two of us with you anyway Enola, so that
in case anything should happen one of us, you would still have another
to protect you. It is a serious thing I should judge, to have to trust
wholly to the half savage negroes who will make up your escort. So we
must guard against any contingency.”
“Very well,” said Enola, “then it is settled that we start on Sunday
night.”
“Sunday night if you can get ready and I can get accommodations on the
steamer,” said Mr. Graham.
“Don’t worry about me, uncle,” said Enola. “Look out for yourself and
Auntie. I will be ready,” and saying this Enola turned and left the
room.
Harry had long since learned to love Enola, but she had told him
positively when he approached her on the subject of marriage, that she
only thought of him as a brother, but that sometime she might learn to
think of him in a different way; until that time, however, he must not
mention the subject again. Harry had promised, and so the matter had
rested; but he had not forgotten her words, and he now saw a chance,
while on this long journey, to win the love he craved.
He was twenty-eight, and by hard work, and strict attention to his
duties, had been promoted to the position of cashier in the bank of
which his father was president. He and his father had both left the bank
for an indefinite period just a few days before our story opens, fully
decided on taking a long vacation, spending the time in Europe. So
Enola’s plans had not upset theirs to any great extent; they would now
take a trip into Africa, instead of through Europe.
When they had thought the matter over for some time, they came to the
conclusion that the African trip would be more to their liking, for they
were both good hunters and lovers of adventure. So Harry and his father
lost no time but went out that same afternoon and made purchases of
shotguns, rifles and pistols, fishing tackle, and some of the more
necessary medicines. They trusted to getting everything else which they
might need in New York and in Zanzibar.
That evening at the dinner table, the subject was brought up before Mrs.
Graham and Nellie. Both objected, but when Mr. Graham and Harry both
avowed their intention of accompanying Enola, then the ladies gave their
consent.
Sunday came around and the party had gotten all ready and started for
New York. Arriving there some few purchases were made, and then in the
evening the party boarded the great steamer which was to carry them to
Southampton. The following day opened up bright and beautiful, Enola
remarking that this foretold success. The steamer left the dock early
and moved slowly down the bay, past Governor’s Island, Bedloe’s Island,
the Statue of Liberty, and then along the Staten Island shore, past
Quarantine, the forts, Fire Island, Sandy Hook, and then, after a
glimpse of Coney Island, Brighton, Manhattan Beach and Far Rockaway, the
steamer turned her nose toward the Old World, and land was soon out of
sight. The trip was an enjoyable one, the steamer not breaking her
record, but still reaching Southampton in less than seven days. They did
not tarry in England, but took one of the Channel steamers for Boulogne
Sur Mer, and arriving here boarded a train for Paris, which city was
reached the same night. The following day Mr. Graham looked up a steamer
for Alexandria, and learned that one sailed for that port on Saturday
from Marseilles. This was Thursday, so no time must be lost in reaching
Marseilles. Sleeping accommodations were secured on the night train, and
the following morning found them in the quaint old city. The day was
spent in taking a drive along the Mediterranean. It was at a time when
the Reviera is generally crowded, and the beautiful driveway was filled
with elegant equipages.
The following morning they took the steamer for Alexandria.
This was the most delightful part of the trip. The sky never looked so
blue, the water never so calm, the sun never so bright, and the air
never seemed so pure as on this two weeks’ trip, from Marseilles to
Alexandria. Stops were made at Algiers, Tunis and at several other
points before reaching Alexandria, and at these different places, the
boat stopping for a few hours, our friends disembarked, and made short
excursions over the towns.
At Alexandria a freight steamer was found bound for Madagascar, and
arrangements were made with the Captain to give the ladies his cabin,
Mr. Graham and Harry being satisfied with humbler quarters. Down through
the Suez Canal, into the Red Sea, out through the Gulf of Aden and then
into the Indian Ocean, and the little steamer headed due south. This
trip was rather slow but without much hardship, the Island of Zanzibar
was at last sighted, and, later in the day, they were taken off in
lighters.
“The civilized part,” as Enola called it, of the journey was finished,
and it remained now to make preparations for that other journey, which
might prove less agreeable and a great deal more dangerous.