BATTLE WITH THE PIGMIES.
No sooner had Barney mounted the polished dais, than with a swift
movement it turned and he vanished into a black aperture beneath.
He went out of sight so suddenly that nothing could have been done to
prevent or save him.
For a moment Frank Reade, Jr., and Pomp stood aghast gazing at the
treacherous slab of stone.
“Great heavens!” gasped Frank. “What does it mean? Barney! Where are
you? Answer if you can.”
A long wail went up from Pomp’s lips.
“Lor’ sakes, Marse Frank, he am gwine gone to his death. Dat big stone
hab jes’ crushed him to death fo’ suah.”
“It can’t be—it must not be so!” cried Frank, with horror, and half
insane, he was about to spring upon the stone himself, when Pomp pulled
him back.
“Fo’ goodness, Marse Frank, don’ yo’ go an’ do dat same fing!” cried
the affrighted darky. “Yo’ will follow Barney, an’ den whatebber dis
chile do?”
“But we must know Barney’s fate!” cried Frank, desperately.
Again and again he called the name of his faithful servitor.
But no answer came back.
All was the silence of the tomb.
Bathed in cold perspiration, Frank laid his hands upon the stone and
essayed to move it.
But he could not do this.
What other resort he would have tried, it is impossible to say, but at
that moment a warning cry broke from Pomp’s lips.
“Fo’ Hebbin’s sake, Marse Frank, jes’ yo’ look yender. I done fink we
bettah skip fo’ de Steam Man.”
Frank glanced in the direction indicated.
Through the arches of the temple he saw the court-yard beyond.
Through this, three huge tigers were coming at full speed.
There was not a moment to lose.
In their exposed position Frank had no hopes of overcoming three such
savage brutes.
Accordingly the safest method to pursue was to fly to the Steam Man.
Without further hesitation and with one impulse, Frank and Pomp started.
They sped through the court like a flash. One of the tigers let out a
tremendous savage roar.
All of the savage beasts were in hot pursuit of the two men.
Fortunately they had not far to go. Frank reached the wagon first and
sprang in.
Pomp followed, and they had just time to shut the door in the cage,
when the foremost of the tigers came bounding against it.
One of the tigers sprang on the top of the cage and crouched there,
trying to claw his way through the netting.
The others kept leaping against the side of the wagon ferociously.
Pomp had sprung for a rifle, and would have fired at the brutes.
But a strange incident prevented.
Suddenly the notes of a strange sounding horn sounded through the
arches of the temple.
Instantly the three tigers leaped down and went skulking away across
the court-yard.
Pomp and Frank were so completely amazed that they were for a moment
speechless and inactive.
“Fo’ massy’s sake!” gasped Pomp, in utter amazement. “Whatebber am de
meanin’ ob dat?”
“Why, it looks as if they were trained tigers,” replied Frank, a
swift comprehension breaking over him. “Ah, I was right—there is their
master.”
Both saw, standing upon an angle of the court-yard wall, an individual,
the like of which neither had ever seen before.
He was almost a pigmy in stature, but thickset and stout of frame.
His complexion was the color of parchment, and his hair long, black and
wiry, hung down over his shoulders.
His keen eyes looking furtively out from beneath heavy eyebrows were
fixed keenly upon the Steam Man.
He was dressed in a curious-looking suit of some sort of queerly-woven
cloth, a compromise between the garb of a Turk and a native Mexican.
In his hand he carried a long lance steel tipped.
For a full minute he stood gazing at the Steam Man.
“Golly, Marse Frank,” muttered Pomp. “Dat am de funniest-looking
little man I eber seed.”
“Well, you’re right, Pomp,” agreed Frank, regarding the other with
interest. “If he is a specimen of the aborigines of this country they
were a funny looking lot of people.”
But the funny looking little man leaped down from his perch and now
advanced toward the Steam Man, gesticulating and talking in some
strange tongue.
Frank could not understand a word he said.
The famous inventor opened the door of the cage and stepped down into
the court-yard.
At this the aborigine came to a halt not ten paces distant.
He spoke to Frank in a strange tongue.
Frank did not attempt to make it out, but replied:
“I cannot talk your language, sir.”
Again the little man spoke. Frank repeated his declaration.
The pigmy gesticulated furiously and swung his lance threateningly. But
Frank tried to pacify him by resorting to signs.
This had some little effect.
The pigmy understood partly the signs Frank made.
The young inventor pointed to the Steam Man and talked and
gesticulated. The pigmy’s confidence seemed to be gained and he
approached nearer.
“Now, Pomp,” said Frank, “start the Man up a little.”
Pomp pulled the throttle rein.
The Steam Man gave a puff and began to move ahead.
The effect upon the pigmy was rather startling. He dropped his lance
and stood for a moment trembling in abject terror.
Then wheeling, with several cat-like leaps he gained the edge of the
parapet and went over it.
Frank rushed to the wall and looked over.
But the pigmy had gone.
He was nowhere to be seen.
Frank now began to fathom the mystery of the place. These strange
people had methods of living vastly at variance with American ideas.
None of them were visible just now.
He had read of a class of people in Africa who never showed themselves
above ground in daylight.
All of their work was done at night, and during the daytime they
burrowed caverns in the ground and slept.
These people of the marble pueblo might be much the same. Frank began
to believe that this was the way of it.
The light which he had seen the night before was no doubt used by the
workmen in laying the stone and mortar for the structure.
But where did they find hiding places during the day?
Were there chambers or caverns underneath the marble pueblo?
Certainly the pigmy could not have disappeared so easily if there was
not some method of hiding in some such manner.
Frank vaulted the parapet and began to examine the stone walls.
After some moments’ search to his surprise, as he touched one of the
stones, it swung inward.
A long, narrow passage dark as Erebus was disclosed.
The mystery was solved at last.
This no doubt led to underground chambers where the pigmies spent their
days.
And now Frank believed that he had solved the mystery of Barney’s fate.
The Celt had no doubt fallen through one of the mysterious entrances
into the underground abode of the pigmies.
The marble dais in the temple was then, after all, but a curious sort
of entrance to the underground retreat.
By leaping upon it, one was quickly carried down to the depths below.
It had required something more than ordinary ingenuity to invent this
clever door of stone so nicely balanced.
Certainly these remnants of a lost and almost extinct race were
certainly far from being fools.
They were beyond doubt most clever and skillful mechanics, masons and
artisans.
Frank was tempted to invade the underground retreat of the pigmies, but
sober second thought forbade.
Again at this moment a warning cry came from Pomp, who was aboard the
Steam Man.
“Come, quick, Marse Frank, fo’ yo’ life!” shouted Pomp.
Frank lost no time in complying.
And, as he leaped over the wall, he saw the cause of Pomp’s alarm.
The court-yard was suddenly filling with a seeming legion of the
pigmies.
They were all armed as well, and were inclined to a warlike attitude.
Three tigers were now held in leash.
Frank saw the first little man in the front rank.
He seemed to be the leader of the band. Fully three hundred of the
pigmies had suddenly appeared.
It was a most astonishing complication to Frank Reade, Jr.
The pigmies were all armed with long lances and bore down toward the
Steam Man.
Frank pulled the whistle valve and let out an ear-splitting shriek.
For a moment the pigmies appeared to be literally paralyzed.
They were thrown into the wildest confusion. Terror seemed to be
predominant, until the little old man ran in front of them and exhorted
them.
His words seemed to act like magic upon them.
They re-formed and once more the outlook became serious.
With bristling lances they once more advanced toward the Steam Man.
There was no evading the issue now.
Frank saw this at a glance.
He was averse to killing any of the strange people unless compelled to.
Discretion seemed the better part of valor, and it appeared in order to
retreat in as graceful a manner as possible.
Accordingly he started the Steam Man across the court-yard. With
clanking tread the Man crossed the space.
This brought him out upon the roadway. The pigmies pursued hurling
their lances at the cage.
But the steel netting was proof against them, and they fell off
harmlessly.
However, Frank saw that they were planning to annihilate the Steam Man
with a huge log thrown across the roadway by a party who had headed the
Man off.
The tree would prevent the Man’s progress in that direction, and Frank
set his lips grimly.
“They are after our lives, Pomp. I hate to fire into them, but it is
self-defense.”
“Ob co’se it am, Marse Frank,” protested Pomp. “You’se jes’ a good
right to shoot ebery one ob dem, fo’ suah.”
Frank picked up his rifle.
The foe were swarming down upon the Steam Man.
They evidently believed that they had their mysterious visitor
cornered. Loud cries of triumph pealed from their lips.
But Frank opened fire with his Winchester repeater.
Crack—ack—ack!
The shots flew swift and true. One, two, three of the foe fell. Then
Pomp joined in the battle.
Crack!
Another of the pigmies fell. This had the effect of partially checking
them.
Frank started the Steam Man forward. The huge log across the road
barred their progress, but a few shots from the Winchesters scattered
the foe there assembled.
Then Pomp sprang down and moved the log.
It required all the darky’s strength, but he succeeded and then
returned to the wagon.
“Golly, Marse Frank!” cried the excited darky, “I reckon we’se jes’
gib dem rascals a bit ob a lesson.”
“I think we have, Pomp,” agreed Frank, “but I fear we’ve not seen the
last of this battle yet.”
The young inventor’s fears were not without foundation.
The pigmies had been for a few moments repulsed by the deadly fire of
the repeating rifles.
But they had by no means given up the idea of capturing the Steam Man.
A large party of them had struck out into the forest, and now, as Frank
started the Steam Man for the table-land beyond, he was again quickly
brought to a halt by a new development.
Turning a bend in the road unexpectedly, he saw just ahead a large gang
of the pigmies congregated there.
They had felled several tall palms, and they lay across the roadway
effectually blocking the passage of the Steam Man.
Affairs had certainly reached a crisis.