The Tragedy in the Purple Wood
Our woodland life was happy. We were quite unconscious of the events
that were shaping themselves to bring sudden catastrophe. We saw in our
simple lives no foreshadowing of the supreme moments of the stupendous
drama in which we were involved. The crisis came with little enough
warning.
On the last day of our joyous existence there (we had fallen into
the habit of making an arbitrary division of our time into days and
nights), Sam arose and fixed our breakfast. I remember that we had
pancakes, with maple sirup. Then, since "Alexander" was fluttering
about, eager for the day's hunt, and flickering messages to him with
its petal-like membrane, he got his rifle and they departed.
As the old scientist walked off through the purple trees, puffing
steadily on the old pipe in his mouth, fondly watching the huge, winged
beast that flew along above him with his gun, little did I dream of
the tragedy that was in store! I could not have believed that Sam
stood in any great danger. The winged creature that attended him was
two-thirds grown; it would have been more than a match for a couple of
lions! Certainly it was no feeble bodyguard!
An hour after he had gone, Xenora and I took one of my old romances
of science, and walked a quarter of a mile up the limpid stream to a
favorite resort of ours. We laughed and talked much by the way, and
gathered a great bunch of the little red blooms. I was teaching her to
read--at least that was our nominal business, though it was usually
forgotten.
The living, wonderful mystery of her, her sheer perfection, the life
and love that sparkled in her eyes, all enchanted me, carried my
thoughts away from the page!
We sat together on our mossy stone seat, reading a little, and laughing
and talking much, until we forgot all except each other. When I looked
at my watch, I found that we had been there many hours. We got up and
started back to the machine, speculating light-heartedly on what Sam
would have ready for dinner.
We shouted carefree greetings as we approached the machine, and
received no reply. We got to the deck, and descended to the cabin in
vague alarm, but saw no sign of the old scientist. We hoped that he had
only been delayed. I blew the siren several times, and listened to hear
a signal from his gun. But when the echoes of the blast had died away
from the silent purple wood, all was still again. We heard no answering
shot.
I climbed out on the deck to listen. Not a sound disturbed the
stillness, save the faint rustle of the unceasing wind in the purple
trees above, and the crystal tinkle of the little stream. Green meadows
and bright trees lay steaming beneath the hot red sky--quiet as death.
The stillness was ominous. It bore the portent of doom!
Presently Xenora crept up by me and ran her strong cool arm through
mine. Her violet eyes were solemn, now; and her fair face was clouded
with anxiety. She had come to share my love for Sam.
"I am afraid for him," she whispered. "Many things might have happened.
The beasts he hunted may have charged and killed him. Or a ship of
Mutron may have found him--the ships of the Lord of Flame travel even
to the waters of the lower sea to do battle with the Lunaks. And there
is another danger of the wood--that is never seen. The hunters of
Lothar never venture far from the city."
Her words were not particularly encouraging, and I made ready to go
to look for Sam at once. I carried a heavy rifle, my pistol, and an
emergency medicine kit. Xenora insisted on going along, and I could do
nothing but assent. I did not wish to leave her alone, and she herself
was no mean woodsman. In fact, when it came to the matter of following
the trail over the low green plants, she proved far more expert than
myself.
We left at once. The trail led us east for a mile, parallel to the
stream, in the cover of the purple trees. Then it turned north across
an open meadow; and there Xenora picked up the spoor of one of the
great sloths, which Sam had stalked. It led on to a group of three
giant purple trees, and there we found two fired cartridges from Sam's
rifle. Three hundred yards farther on, in an open meadow, we found the
kill.
Alexander had evidently had his fill from it; and near by were the
dying embers of a fire, and the charred green stick on which Sam had
cooked a steak for himself. The ground around the fire was somewhat
torn up. The green plants had been uprooted and crushed. And there on
the ground I found another cartridge from the rifle.
Presently Xenora picked up a trail leading toward a clump of the
flowering trees to the north. We followed it hastily, silent with
fearful anticipations. Twice we saw on the ground great splashes of
green liquid, of the life-fluid of the plant creatures. Had Sam's pet
been fighting for him in the air as he fled?
Then we came to the pitiful end of the trail. The ground was
frightfully torn up, as if great bodies had struggled there. There were
great splotches of the green fluid, and a fateful stain--evidently of
human blood. Sam's battered pith helmet we found on the ground there,
and six fired shells--silent tokens of the battle!
From the spot no trail led away. There was no evidence to show whether
the battle had ended in death or in capture, nor anything to show
what manner of being the unknown assailant had been. For a long time
we stood there, gazing at the spot in lifeless grief and despair,
apathetically fingering the helmet and shells, vainly trying to picture
the contest, and looking about for other signs.
"It is no use to go farther," Xenora said at last. "It is the unknown
menace of the purple wood. Many a man of Lothar has been taken by
it--it is a silent, winged death!"