IN THE CITY AGAIN.
On the following morning the men were up early and at the terrace,
awaiting their King and the strange, sad tale which they must hear.
Onrai came on to the terrace with his friends and told the sad story of
the battle and the eruption. The Onians stood drinking in every word,
their eyes changing from curiosity to pain, and then to horror, their
faces depicting the same emotions. Onrai related all of the fearful
tale, of how the men had stood up before the negroes even when they were
being mowed down like wheat before the scythe, and then of how the
elephants had rushed on to them, thus turning the tide of battle, and
then of the mad rush for the crevice, and the awful eruption which had
killed and burned the survivors.
For some time after the King had finished speaking the men stood with
that look of horror overcasting their faces, their very bodies having
assumed an attitude which showed the greatest dejection. Onrai then
continued: “We will start for the city again to-day and will make as
long marches as possible, as we wish to reach there in time to rest,
before the ceremonies of the Day of Resis takes place. On the plain,
some few miles from here, will be found a herd of nearly a hundred
elephants. They were driven, on this desperate night, into the worst
part of the downfall of ashes, and half buried and nearly starving, are
dying there now, on the plain. I wish one hundred of you to go, and if
possible, revive these elephants and bring them to a place where they
can receive proper care. The remainder of you will accompany us to the
city. We start immediately,” and saying this, he again turned to his
friends and told them to make immediate preparations.
This they did and it was only a short while until they were mounted, and
on their way from the spot which had become most hateful and loathsome
to them. To the avenue, which could only be told now by the bordering
trees, they went, and following its course they headed for the city.
Hope was rejuvenated as they left the scene of so much pain and death,
and life seemed again to be putting on a garment of happiness which had
long since been cast aside. The cavalcade of the witnesses of the recent
fearful scene, left the place without a regret and without one glance
backward to either volcano, bad lands or villa.
Their thoughts turned to things more pleasant, of the green fields and
shady trees; even the lake with its memories of night horrors seemed
less repulsive than the place they were leaving. But the thought of the
city and its quiet pleasures were more pleasing than all others. In a
half hour they could see ahead of them the green fields and trees, which
they had so longed for. The layer of ashes gradually thinned until there
was no longer any trace of it, and the hard, onyx-paved avenue again
stretched before them in all its beauty. An hour later and they could
see no traces of the eruption at all, and the long track of the cyclone
had been cleared, until it presented very much the same appearance as
did the rest of the surrounding country.
The country became more cultivated as they proceeded, and men were now
seen frequently working in the fields. None of them approached the
cavalcade, and none were made acquainted with the sad story of the
battle and eruption. And so day after day passed in much the same way as
they had on the journey out, the marches being somewhat longer only, and
the midday rests somewhat shorter. But the evenings were spent in the
cool villas, the nights of prayer being observed now as usual, for with
the last body of men who had come to meet them, before leaving the villa
near the volcano, had been another priest and attendants, and these were
now with the party.
The lake had been reached and its banks followed. All former plans of
taking another route back to the city had been abandoned on account of
the eruption, and the party was not sorry for this, for the avenue, with
its magnificent shade trees and its beautiful surroundings made it an
enviable route. The days had passed and with them many miles of the long
journey, until on the evening of the ninth day after leaving the villa
in the bad lands they were at the point where they had embarked for the
island, on the memorable night of the sea-fight. Here they put up for
the night at the same villa which had held them once before.
“To-morrow,” said Mr. Bruce, after the evening meal had been disposed of
and all had gathered on the terrace for their regular chat before
retiring, “to-morrow, if nothing happens, will be our last day’s
journey. We will reach the city before noon if we start very early in
the morning.”
“I am not sorry that this excursion is so near an end,” said Mr. Graham;
“but it has been loaded with adventures and that is what we were looking
for when coming here.”
“Yes, but the adventures of the past month or so have none of them been
agreeable ones,” said Mr. Bruce.
“I do not agree with you, Mr. Bruce,” said Harry. “I think the last
horrible experience has cast a gloom over all of the others, and if it
were not for the fearful slaughter of the Onians and our own narrow
escape, we would have considered the other adventures as being at least,
excitable, if not altogether enjoyable.”
“This land has not seemed the same to me since that fearful day,” said
Mr. Bruce.
“I have noticed the change in you,” said Nellie.
“It has made this fair land almost hateful to me and I long to get away
from it,” and Mr. Bruce spoke in such a bitter tone, that all looked at
him in surprise.
“We have now seen most of the people and their country,” said Mr.
Graham, “and it would be well for us to leave as soon as possible,
especially as the King has decided that Enola shall marry him on the Day
of Resis. By the way, Enola, have you learned anything of Onrai, in
regard to this red-letter day?”
“Nothing,” answered Enola, “excepting that it is a day of great joy to
all of the participants in its ceremonies.”
“But do not all participate?” questioned Mr. Graham.
“It seems not,” answered Enola. “That is, they do not all participate on
the same day; but a day comes to each one when he or she participates.
It has a strange meaning, this Day of Resis.”
“Yes, and one which will never be learned until the day comes,” said
Harry, “for Onrai told me himself that none of his people were allowed
to mention the secrets of the day, but all understood them.”
“And when is this day, which is to make you the wife of the King?” asked
Mr. Graham.
“It is barely a week distant,” answered Enola.
“And do you think that you could be happy as the wife of Onrai?” asked
Mr. Graham.
“I have never given the subject much thought,” answered Enola, “until
the evening preceding our departure from the villa in the bad lands,
then he spoke of our marriage and told of our apartments in the Temple,
and of our marriage gowns, and another thing, which makes the very
thought of marrying Onrai repulsive. He then told me that if he should
die first that I would be sacrificed on his bier, and the King and wife
would be buried together.”
“That is certainly fearful to contemplate,” said Mr. Graham, “and it but
adds to the necessity of our getting out of this country before this
eventful day.”
“What do you suppose, though, will be the outcome if we should leave the
country before you become the wife of the King?” asked Mr. Bruce.
“It is hard to tell,” answered Enola, “but these people might object
seriously to our doing so. It is certain that the King has fully decided
on marrying me, and that his people have not only sanctioned the
marriage, but it was they who fixed the Day of Resis as the one on which
we should be married. They are a strange people. They have gone through
life following certain laws and rules and have never been crossed in
anything, and it might be a very serious matter to try and balk them in
this, probably the most important event which has ever taken place in
their history.”
“Yes, but if you do not wish to marry Onrai,” said Mr. Graham, “and you
have just said that you would not, we must get away from here before
this Day of Resis, in some way or other, whether they object or not.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Bruce, “and as the time is so short it would be well for
us to feel around and see just how the land lays.”
Onrai, who had been overseeing some work in another part of the villa,
came strolling carelessly on to the terrace, his very carriage lending a
gracefulness to his majestic figure, which was charming, to say the
least, and Enola thought how easy it could be to love this giant under
any other circumstances.
“Onrai,” said Mr. Bruce, “we have been your guests for many weeks now
and we feel that to remain with you much longer would be a breach of
etiquette, to say the least, and as the affairs in our own country need
our almost immediate attention, we feel that we should leave your
hospitable country, and return to our own.”
Onrai looked surprised at the very mention of such a thing and made no
answer for some time; at last, however, he said:
“Your words grieve me; I had never thought of such a thing as your ever
returning to your own country. I have always supposed that you would
remain with us for the remainder of your lives. Why should you want to
leave us? Have we not been kind to you, and is ours not a good land to
live in? You have told me that you have much care, worry, trouble and
unhappiness in your world; you have found none of those disturbing
influences here; that is, until the awful fight and eruption came, but
even that is over now, and your lives will soon drop into the old groove
which you have said was the most delightful existence which one could
desire. My people love you for yourselves alone, and if they forgot
themselves for once, they must not be blamed, for you can readily see
how superstition could spring to life in such uneventful lives as
theirs. But they have forgotten those fears, and are now as much your
friends as is their King. Then why should you wish to leave us? We love
you; and as Enola is to marry me, and is to remain with us, it will be
pleasant for both her and you to be together. Don’t ever again mention
leaving us, let alone ever putting such a suggestion into action. Why,
we look upon you no longer as strangers, but as part of us.”
“We thank you for those kind words,” said Mr. Bruce, “but you must
understand us, Onrai, we have many personal interests in our world which
would take us there, and we have brothers and sisters and friends who
would grieve greatly if we should never return. If such were not the
case, it would be an easy matter for us to take up our life residence
with you.”
“I have, as I had said before,” said Onrai, “never thought of your
leaving us, and I cannot now say how such a thing would affect my people
or myself. I can only say that we have always thought that you would
remain with us, and we cannot think of anything else just now.” And
saying this, the King took hold of Enola’s arm gently, and drawing it
through his, as she had taught him to, they started to promenade the
terrace. After they had gotten out of hearing, Mr. Bruce turned to Mr.
Graham, and said:
“Rather non-committal, is he not?”
“I should say so,” said Mr. Graham. “And if I am not mistaken, we will
have trouble in getting away from here.”
“One thing sure,” said Mr. Bruce, “he has no intention of letting Enola
leave the country.”
“He is a strange man, this Onrai,” said Mr. Graham, “and, in fact, the
people are a queer anomaly and hard to make out. They have no secrets,
seemingly, their lives are like open books, and they have no reason for
being otherwise; but they can be as mum as oysters, as they say in
America, when they wish to keep anything from you, and as evasive as a
man paying taxes, when they take such a notion. For a race who has never
had occasion to use any deception, they are certainly without a peer.”
The talk now turned onto other subjects, and after a short time, all
retired to their apartments to take their last sleep in the country, or
away from the beautiful Temple. All were up very early the following
morning, for they desired to reach the city before noon, so as not to
have to stop before getting there for the midday rest. There was more
life and gayety in the party on this morning than had been seen among
them for weeks. All seemed happy and glad that the long journey was so
near an end, and there was much joyous conversation and singing as they
rode out before the sun had yet risen.
Straight to the beautiful avenue, which had been their guide for so
many, many miles, and the trees of which had given them such shady
comfort, they rode. Even the animals seemed to realize that their long
journey was at an end, for they started off at a good lively gait and
maintained it throughout the morning. Onrai this morning seemed
depressed; his head was bent and he seemed dejected. He had forbidden
those who had joined the party, just before starting on this journey,
never to speak of or mention in any way the things which he had told
them on the morning of their departure. He had said that it was his duty
as King and head of the people to impart to them the sad news; that the
details of this great calamity were better known to him than to any
other of his people, and he could the better tell the story for this
reason. Therefore, his men had said nothing during the long journey, and
those of the Onians whom they had met had learned nothing of the
horrible event. Onrai now realized that the time had almost come for him
to stand up before the mighty throng which would gather at his command,
and tell them of the fearful death of five thousand of the fathers,
sons, husbands and brothers of On.
He had seen in his mind’s eye, the look of utter despair and great pain,
and had heard the cries of the sufferers, and all this saddened him. He
felt that it would be next to an impossibility for him to explain so
they could understand, and the doubt which would accompany his
explanation would but add to the pain of those who had lost loved ones.
But the elephants and zebras were bearing them fast toward the city, as
if mocking the King and being desirous of hurrying him to that time and
place so dreaded.
The sun had nearly reached its zenith, when the first one of the
beautiful city villas was seen through the green trees in the distance,
and not long after they were once more, after many weeks’ riding,
between rows of the pink villas. All was quiet, for this was resting
hour; but as they got nearer the heart of the city, numerous ones of the
Onians would show themselves, and upon seeing that it was the King and
his party, they would make a respectful obeisance and watch them until
lost in the distance.
At last the Temple was reached, and our friends were once more in their
delightful apartments. Every comfort had been found in the villas en
route, but none that they were ever in had such large and magnificent
apartments as this grand Temple. The attendants took them in hand at
once, and after a bath and light lunch, all of the tired wanderers
slept.
In the evening all gathered in the dining hall as usual, and it was hard
to suppose that they had been away for so long. Mr. Graham and Mr. Bruce
started to take their evening promenade on the terrace, and were
surprised to see a number of soldiers, so they looked, walking in a
measured beat about the grounds.
“As I thought,” said Mr. Bruce, “we are prisoners.”