Johnston followed his guide to a flying machine outside. He hesitated
an instant, as the officer was holding the door open, and looked back
toward the conservatory; but he could not see Thorndyke.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked desperately. But the officer did not
seem to hear the question. He was motioning to a tall man of athletic
build who wore a dark blue uniform and who came hastily forward and
pushed the American into the machine. Through the open door Johnston saw
Thorndyke's anxious face as the Englishman emerged from the conservatory
and strode toward them. The two officers entered and closed the glass
door.
Then the machine rose and Johnston's spirits sank as they shot upward
and floated easily over the humming crowd into the free white light
above the smokeless city. The poor captive leaned on the window-sill
and looked out. There was no breeze, and no current of air except that
caused by their rapid passage through the atmosphere.
Up, up, they went, till the city seemed a blur of mingled white and
gray, and then the color below changed to a vague blue as they flew over
the fields of the open country.
The first officer took a glass and a decanter from a receptacle under a
seat, and, pouring a little red fluid into the glass, offered it to the
American.
“Drink it,” he said, “it will put you to sleep for a time.”
“I don't want to be drugged.”
“The journey will try your nerves. It is harmless.”
“I don't want it; if I take it, you will have to pour it down my
throat.”
The officer smiled as he put the glass and decanter away. Faster and
faster flew the machine. They had to put the window down, for the
current of air had become too strong and cool to be pleasant. The color
of the sunlight changed to green, and then at noon, from the zenith,
a glorious red light shimmered down and veiled the earth with such a
beautiful translucent haze that the poor American for a moment almost
forgot his trouble.
The afternoon came on. The sunlight became successively green, white,
blue, lavender, rose and gray. The sun was no longer in sight and the
gray in the west was darkening into purple, the last hour of the day.
Night was at hand. Johnston's limbs were growing stiff from inaction,
and he had a strong desire to speak or to hear one of the officers say
something, but they were dozing in their respective corners. The moon
had risen and hung far out in space overhead, but they seemed to be
leaving it behind. Later he felt sure of this, for its light
gradually became dimmer and dimmer till at last they were in total
darkness--darkness pierced only by the powerful search-light which threw
its dazzling, trumpet-shaped rays far ahead. But, search as he would
in the direction they were going, the unfortunate American could see
nothing but the ever-receding wall of blackness.
Suddenly they began to descend. The officers awoke and stretched
themselves and yawned. One of them opened the window and Johnston heard
a far-off, roaring sound like that of a multitude of skaters on a vast
sheet of ice.
Down, down, they dropped. Johnston's heart was in his mouth.
The machine suddenly slackened in its speed and then hung poised in
mid-air. The rays of the search-light were directed downward and slowly
shifted from point to point. Looking down, the American caught glimpses
of rugged rocks, sharp cliffs and yawning chasms.
“How is it?” asked the first officer, through a speaking-tube, of the
driver.
“A good landing!” was the reply.
“Well, go down.” And a moment later the machine settled on the uneven
ground.
The same officer opened the door, and gently pushed Johnston out.
Johnston expected them to follow him, but the door of the machine closed
behind him.
“Stand out of the way,” cried out the officer through the window; “you
may get struck as we rise.”
Involuntarily Johnston obeyed. There was a sound of escaping air from
beneath the machine, a fierce commotion in the atmosphere which sucked
him toward the machine, and then the dazzling search-light blinded him,
as the air-ship bounded upward and sailed back over the course it had
come.
Johnston stood paralyzed with fear. “My God, this is awful!” he
exclaimed in terror, and his knees gave way beneath him and he sank to
the rock. “They have left me here to starve in this hellish darkness!”
He remained there for a moment, his face covered with his hands, then
he sprang up desperately, and started to grope through the darkness,
he knew not whither. He stumbled at almost every step, and ran against
boulders which bruised his hands and face, and went on till his strength
was gone. Then he paused and looked back toward the direction from which
he had come. It seemed to him that he could see the straight line of
mighty black wall above which there was a faint appearance of light. A
lump rose in the throat of the poor fellow, and tears sprang into his
eyes.
But what was that? Surely it was a sound. It could not have been the
wind, for the air was perfectly still. The sound was repeated. It was
like the moaning of a human voice far away in the dark. Could it be some
one in distress, some poor unfortunate, banished being, like himself?
Again he heard the sound, and this time, it was like the voice of some
one talking.
“Hello!” shouted the American, and a cold shudder went over him at the
sound of his own husky voice. There was a dead silence, then, like an
echo of his own cry, faintly came the word, “Hello!”
Filled with superstitious fear, the American cautiously groped toward
the sound. “Hello, there, who are you?”
“Help, help!” said the voice, and it was now much nearer.
Johnston plunged forward precipitately. “Where are you?”
“Here,” and a human form loomed up before him.
For a moment neither spoke, then the strange figure said: “I thought
at first that you were some one sent to rescue me, but I see you are
alone--damned like myself.”
“It looks that way,” replied Johnston.
“When did they bring you?”
“Only a moment ago.”
“My God, it is awful! A week ago I did not dream of such a fate as this.
I had enemies. The medical men were bribed to vote against me. Am I not
strong? Am I not muscular? Feel my arms and thighs.”
He held out an arm and Johnston felt of it. The muscles were like stone.
“You are a giant.”
“Ah! you are right; but they reported that there was a taint in my
blood. I was to marry Lallio, the most beautiful creature in our
village--Madryl, you know, the nearest hamlet to the home of the Sun. I
was rich, and the best farmer there. But Lyngale wanted her. She hated
him and spat at him when he spoke against me. He proved by others that
my lungs were weak, and showed them the blood of a slain dog in my
fields that they said had come from my lungs. Ah, they were curs! My
lungs weak! Strike my chest with all your might. Does it not sound like
the king's thunder? Strike, I say!” and as the enfeebled American struck
his bare breast he cried:--“Harder, harder! Pooh, you are a child, see
this, and this,” and he emphasized his words with thunderous blows on
his resounding chest.
“But it has been so for a century,” he panted; “hundreds have been
unjustly buried alive here. The king thinks it is not murder because
they die of starvation. I have stumbled over the bones of giants here in
the dark lands, and have met dying men that are stronger than the king's
athletes.”
“What, are there others here?” gasped the American.
The Alphian was silent in astonishment.
“Why, where did you come from?” he asked, after a pause.
“From New York City.”
“I don't know of it, and yet I thought I knew of all the places inside
the great endless wall.”
Johnston was mystified in his turn. “It is not in your country--your
world, or whatever you call it. It is far away.”
“Ah, under the white sun! In the 'Ocean Country,' and the world of
fierce winds and disease. And you are from there. I had heard of it
before they banished me; but two days since I came across a dying man,
away over there. He was huddled against the wall, and had fallen and
killed himself in his efforts to climb back to food and light.
“I saw him die. He told me that he had come from your land when he was a
child. His trouble was the lungs and he had fallen off to a skeleton. He
talked to me of your wide ocean land. Is it, indeed so great? And has it
no walls about it?”
“No, it is surrounded by water.”
“I cannot understand,” and, after a pause, in which Johnston could hear
the great fellow's heart beating, he continued; “That must be the Heaven
the man spoke about. And beyond the water is it always dark like this,
and do they banish people there as the king has us?”
“No; beyond are other countries. But is there no chance for us to escape
from here?”
The Alphian laughed bitterly. “None. What were you banished for?”
“I hardly know.”
“Hold out your arm. There,” as he grasped Johnston's arm in a clasp
of iron, “I see; you are undeveloped, unfit--none but the healthy and
strong are allowed to live in Alpha. It is right, of course; but it is
hard to bear. But I must lie down. I am wearied with constant rambling.
I am nervous too. I fell asleep awhile ago and dreamt I heard all my
friends in a great clamoring body calling my name, 'Branasko!' and then
I awoke and cried for help.”
As he spoke he sank with a sigh to the ground and rested his head on his
elbows and knees and seemed asleep. The American sat down beside him,
and, for a long time, neither spoke. Branasko broke the silence; he
awoke with a start and eyed his companion in sleepy wonder.
“Ugh, I dreamt again,” he grunted, “are you asleep?”
“No,” was Johnston's reply. “I am hungry and thirsty and cannot sleep.”
“So am I, but we must wait till it is lighter, then we can go in search
of food. When I was a boy I learned to catch fish in pools with my hands
and it has prolonged my life here. When the light comes again, I shall
show you how I do it.”
“Then the day does break? I thought it was eternally dark here.”
“It does not get very light, because we are behind the sun; but it is
lighter than now, for we get the sun's reflection, enough at least to
keep us from falling into the chasms.”
Branasko lowered his head to his knees and slept again, but the
American, though wearied, was wakeful. Several hours passed. The Alphian
was sleeping soundly, his breathing was very heavy and he had rolled
down on his side.
Far away in the east the darkness gradually faded into purple, and then
into gray, and slowly hints of pink appeared in the skies. It was dawn.
Johnston touched his companion. The man awoke and looked at him from his
great swollen eyes.
“It is day,” he yawned, rising and stretching himself.
“But the sun is not in sight.”
“No; it shows itself only in the middle of the day, and then but for a
few minutes. We must go now and search for food. I will show you how to
catch the eyeless fish in the black caverns over there.” And he led the
American into the blackness behind them. Every now and then, as they
stumbled along, Johnston would look longingly back toward the faint pink
light that shone above the high black wall. But Branasko hastened on.
Presently they came to the edge of a black chasm and the American was
filled with awe, for, from the seemingly fathomless depths, came a great
roaring sound like that of a mighty wind and the air that came from it
was hot, though pure and free from the odor of gas.
“What is this?” he asked.
“They are everywhere,” answered Branasko, “if it were not for their hot
breathing the Land of the Changing Sun would be cold and damp.”
“Then the sun does not give out heat?”
“No.”
“It is cold?”
“I believe so, I have never thought much about it.”
The American was mystified, but he did not question farther, for
Branasko was carefully lowering himself into the hot gulf.
“Follow me,” he said; “we must cross it to reach the caves. I will guide
you. I have been over this way before.”
“But can we stand the heat?”
“Oh, yes; when we get used to it, it is invigorating. I perspire in
streams, but I feel better afterward. Come on.”
Branasko's head only was above the ground. “I am standing on a ledge,”
he said. “Get down beside me. Fear nothing. It is solid; besides, what
does it matter? You can die but once, and it would really be better to
fall down there into the internal fires than to starve slowly.”
Johnston shuddered convulsively as he let himself down beside Branasko.
His foot dislodged a stone. With a crash it fell upon a lower ledge and
bounded off and went whizzing down into the depths. Both men listened.
They heard the stone bounding from ledge to ledge till the sound was
lost in the internal roaring.
“It is mighty deep,” said Johnston.
“Yes, but follow me; we cannot stop here; we must go along this ledge
till we get to the point where the chasm is narrow enough to jump
across. I have done it.”
“The American held to his companion with one hand and the rock with the
other, and they slowly made their way along the narrow ledge, pausing
every now and then to rest. At every step the path grew more perilous
and narrower, and the cliff on their left rose higher and higher, till
the reflected light of the sun had entirely disappeared. At certain
points the hot wind dashed upon them as furiously as the whirling mist
in 'The Cave of Winds' at Niagara Falls. Once Johnston's foot slipped
and he fell, but was drawn back to safety by the strong arm of the
Alphian.
“Be careful; hold to the cliff's face,” warned Branasko indifferently,
and he moved onward as if nothing unusual had occurred. Presently they
reached a point where a narrow boulder jutted out over the chasm toward
the opposite side, and Branasko cautiously crawled out upon it. When
he had got to its end, Johnston could not see him in the gloom, but his
voice came to him out of the roaring of the chasm.
“I can see the other side, and am going to jump.” An instant later, the
American heard the clatter of the Alphian's shoes on the rock, and his
grunt of satisfaction. Then Branasko called out: “Come on; crawl out
till you feel the end of the rock, and then you can see me.”
In great trepidation the American slowly crawled out on the narrow rock.
Below him yawned the hot darkness, above hung that black ominous canopy
of nothingness. Slowly he advanced on hands and knees, every moment
feeling the sharp rock growing narrower, till finally he reached the
end. He looked ahead. He could but faintly see the ledge and Branasko's
tall form silhouetted upon it.
“See, this is where you have to alight,” cried the Alphian. “Jump, I
will catch you!”
“I am afraid I shall topple over when I stand up,” replied the American.
“The rock is narrow and my head is already swimming. I fear I cannot
reach you. It is no use.”
“Tut, tut!” exclaimed Branasko. “Stand up quickly, and jump at once.
Don't stop to think about it.”
Johnston obeyed. He felt his feet firmly braced on the rock and he
sprang toward the opposite ledge with all his might. Branasko caught
him.
“Good,” he grunted. “There is another place, we must jump again. It
is further on.” Along this ledge they went for some distance, Branasko
leading the way and holding the arm of the American.
“Now here we are, the chasm is a little wider, but the ledge on the
other side is broader.” As he spoke he released Johnston's arm and
prepared to jump. He filled his lungs two or three times. But he seemed
to hesitate. “Pshaw, watching you back there has made me nervous. I
never cared before. If I should happen to fall, go back to where we met,
it is safer there without a guide than here.”
Without another word Branasko hurled himself forward. Johnston held
his breath in horror, for Branasko's foot had slipped as he jumped.
The Alphian had struck the opposite ledge, but not with his feet, as
he intended. He clutched it with his hands and hung there for a moment,
struggling to get a foothold in the emptiness beneath him.
“It's no use, I am falling; I can hold no longer!” And Johnston,--too
terrified to reply,--heard the poor fellow's hands slipping from the
rock, causing a quantity of loose stones to go rattling down below. With
a low cry Branasko fell. An instant later Johnston heard him strike the
ledge beneath, and heard him cry out in pain. Then all was still except
the echoes of Branasko's cry, which bounded and rebounded from side to
side of the chasm, and grew fainter and fainter, till it was submerged
in the roaring below. Then there was a rattle of stones, and Branasko's
voice sounded: “A narrow escape!” he said faintly. “I am on another
ledge”--then after a slight pause, “it is much wider, I don't know how
wide. Are you listening?”
“Yes, but are you hurt?”
“Not at all. Simply knocked the breath out of me for a moment. There is
a cave behind me, and (for a moment there was silence) I can see a light
ahead in the cave. I think it must be the reflection of the internal
fire. Come down to me and we will explore the cavern, and see where the
light comes from.”
“I can't get down there!” shouted Johnston, to make himself heard above
a sudden increase in the roaring in the chasm, “there is no way.”
“Wait a moment!” came from the Alphian. “This ledge seems to incline
upward.”
Johnston stood perfectly motionless, afraid to move from the ledge
either to right or to left, and heard Branasko's footsteps along the
rock beneath. “All right so far,” he called up, and his voice showed
that he had gone to a considerable distance to the left, “the ledge
seems to be still leading gradually upward. I think I can reach you.”
Fifteen minutes passed. The lone American could no longer hear
Branasko's footsteps. Johnston was becoming uneasy and the hot air
was causing his head to swim. He was thinking of trying to retrace his
footsteps to a place of more security when he heard footsteps, and then
the cheery voice of Branasko nearly opposite him across the chasm:
“Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“It is well; I have discovered a good pathway down to the cave, and a
pool of fish besides. I have saved some for you. I was so hungry I had
to eat. Now, you must jump over to me.”
“I cannot,” declared the American. “I cannot jump so far; besides, you
failed.”
Branasko laughed. “I did not leap in the right direction. It is this
point on which I am now standing that I should have tried to reach.
Come, I will catch you.”
Johnston could not bear to be considered cowardly, so he stepped to the
verge of the chasm and prepared to jump. His head felt more dizzy as he
thought of the fathomless depths beneath, and the rush of hot air up the
side of the cliff took his breath away, but he braced himself and said
calmly: “All right, I am coming.” The next instant he sprang forward.
Branasko caught him into his arms and they both rolled back on the level
stone.
“Good,” cried the Alphian, trying to catch his breath, which Johnston
had knocked out of him by the fall. “You did better than I; you are
lighter.”
“Where shall we go now?” asked Johnston, regaining his feet and feeling
of his legs and arms to see if he had broken any bones.
“Down this winding path to the place where I saw that light. I want to
understand it. But you must first eat this fish. It is delicious. They
are swarming in the pools below.”
“And water?” said Johnston.
“An abundance of it, and as cold as ice.”
As Branasko preceded him down the tortuous path, Johnston ate the raw
fish eagerly. Presently they came to a deep pool of water, and both men
threw themselves down on their stomachs and drank freely. After this
they proceeded slowly for several hundred yards, and finally reached
the entrance to the cave in which Branasko had seen the light. At that
distance it looked like the light of some great conflagration reflected
from the face of a cliff.
They entered the cave and made good progress toward the light, for it
showed them the dangerous fissures, sharp boulders and stalactites. They
had walked along in silence for several minutes when the Alphian
stopped abruptly and turned to his companion. “What is the matter?” asked
Johnston.
“It cannot come from the internal fires,” replied Branasko, “for the
atmosphere grows cooler as we get nearer the light and away from the
chasm.”
Johnston was too much puzzled to formulate a reply, and he simply waited
for the Alphian to continue.
“Let's go on,” said Branasko; and in his tone and hesitating manner
Johnston detected the first appearance of superstitious fear that he had
seen in the brawny Alphian.