“SUNSHINE!”
THE great flags of the bridge felt almost red-hot to the feet of the
adventurers, but they trudged bravely forward through the glare, Seymour
supporting Haverly as they went. There was no parapet to the bridge, and
the sight of the molten flood below, visible to right and left as far as
the eye could see, sent a thrill through each of the trio.
The massive span, which had seemed so solid a structure viewed
from the gorge, now appeared a very flimsy affair, dwarfed to
nothingness by the stupendous dimensions of the great fire gulf. With
their eyes fixed upon the giant form of their guide, the three
comrades moved on as steadfastly as possible. Over the vast, vibrating
sheet of metal that formed the drawbridge they tramped, and glad
indeed were they when they had crossed the last span, and their feet
touched solid ground.
Here the Ayuti dismounted and strode to where a great lever
projected from the masonry of the bridge. This he pulled over, and
instantly, with a clanging rattle, the drawbridge swung upward into
place.
“Now that your foes are all destroyed,” he remarked, turning to
the baronet, “Nordhu, the priest, will not know whether ye have
escaped or no.”
But he was wrong; for, as the party once more moved on, a
wolf-man crept from his hiding place amid the rocks on the opposite
side of the gorge. A moment he stood there in the glare, shaking his
spear menacingly towards the retreating figures of the fugitives, then
turned and vanished into the gloom of the defile.
Forward went the adventurers, the glow from the fire gulf growing
fainter as they advanced, until the towers and walls of a city loomed
before them through the twilight. The sight aroused the interest of
the scientist. Hitherto he had moved in an apathetic manner, very
different from his usual brisk style. His nerves had received so rude
a shock that he was as yet scarcely himself. Even the sight of
Chenobi’s monstrous steed--rare though the creature was--had
failed to arouse him. But now, with the walls of the mysterious
subterranean city within sight, his scientific zeal revived.
Instinctively he felt for his note-book, forgetting for the
moment that he had lost it in his adventure with the Triceratops.
“Don’t worry,” Seymour said, noting his look of disappointment;
“I happen to have one on me that will suit you down to the ground.”
Forthwith he produced a bulky pocket-book, at sight of which Mervyn’s
eyes glistened.
“Many thanks!” he cried, taking it, and at once commenced to
scribble down a graphic description of the giant elk.
Ere long the party passed through a great gateway, the stone gate
of which had fallen from its hinges, and now lay crumbling in the
dust. On either hand towered the palaces of the Ayutis, now, alas,
tottering to decay. Built of some dazzling white stone, they gleamed
through the twilight as though bathed in a flood of moonlight; the
effect--accentuated by the silence of the whole place--being
indescribably weird. The footsteps of the adventurers raised a volley
of echoes from the deserted streets as they moved over the pavement,
and from ahead at intervals came the muffled baying of hounds.
The Ayuti was strangely silent as he strode beside Muswani, the
elk--he had not mounted since raising the drawbridge. Perhaps he
was thinking of the time when the streets had rung with the voices of
his people, when the palaces had throbbed with life.
Although he was burning to question their guide concerning the
past history of the city, Mervyn forbore, fearing by some indiscreet
query to offend him. But he need not have feared. The Ayuti’s grief
for the desolation of his city had long since lost its acuteness, and
he had resigned himself to a life of solitude, living for but one
object, which, later on, he revealed to the baronet. What fearful fate
had overtaken the inhabitants of the place, the explorers could not
imagine. It could have been no ordinary catastrophe that wiped out the
Ayutis. That they had become extinct, save for Chenobi, by natural
means, none would believe.
So, while each puzzled his brain for a solution to the problem,
they passed into a vast square, in the centre of which stood a great
temple. Around this the Ayuti led them to the further side. The
familiar style of the architecture struck Wilson at once. The building
was almost a duplicate of the one he had discovered in the valley,
save that it was many times larger, and that here a huge flight of
steps led upward to a broad terrace which ran the whole length of the
temple front. And upon this latter, looming gaunt and spectral through
the twilight, towered a monstrous idol.
“Wait!” Chenobi commanded. He lifted the engineer from his mount,
and led Muswani through a door in the temple wall at the base of the
steps, his entry being greeted by a clamorous baying. In a few moments
he reappeared and, picking up the engineer as one might a child,
commenced to ascend the steps. Climbing close upon his heels, his
new-found friends soon reached the terrace. Here they passed behind
the colossal figure of the god and entered the temple.
A murmur of astonishment went up as they crossed the threshold.
The whole vast hall was ablaze with a dazzling radiance, unearthly as
it was brilliant. The origin of the light became apparent at once. In
the centre of the temple floor was a huge basin, wherein bubbled a
strange, phosphorescent liquid, like nothing the explorers had ever
seen before. On one side it overflowed, and ran in a glistening stream
across the floor, to disappear in a dark recess in the wall.
The scientist, his first surprise over, would have moved forward
to examine this uncanny liquid more closely, but Chenobi restrained
him.
“Nay,” he said gravely, “there is death in the stream of light!
None can touch it and live. Sit ye here awhile, till I prepare
food.”
With that the Ayuti passed out of the building, leaving his
friend wondering wherein lay the deadly power of the extraordinary
liquid.
“There seems no end to the marvels of this weird land,” Mervyn
remarked. “If ever we return to the upper world, what a tale we shall
have to tell.”
Haverly closed one eye.
“You’ve got considerable standing amongst science men,
professor,” he said, “but I guess you’ll have a real stiff job to make
’em believe you. A yarn of this sort ain’t goin’ to be sucked down as
gospel all at once.”
“You wouldn’t have me keep silent?” retorted the scientist,
somewhat indignantly. “Knowing what we do it would be little short of
a crime to suppress our knowledge.”
“That’s so,” returned the Yankee imperturbably, “but I’d sooner
you face the music than me. If we ever manage to burrow our way back
to daylight, I guess your yarn’ll kinder upset some of the accepted
theories as to the way the inside of this yer planet’s built.”
“No doubt,” Mervyn answered, “yet that will not deter me. My
first work will be to write a book on the underworld.”
“Bravo!” Seymour cried; “I like your pluck, Mervyn. When we have
found Garth and the boat, we can consult Chenobi about getting back to
the upper world. If there should be any way out of this gloomy hole
the Ayuti is sure to know of it.”
“What if there is no exit?” the engineer asked anxiously.
“In that case I guess we’ll have to make ourselves at home down
here,” the Yankee replied, “though I allow the prospect ain’t over
cheerful. However, I calculate your humble has kept his end up in
tighter situations than the present--darned tighter situations,
sonny. Say, I hope our new pard won’t expect us to dress for dinner. I
guess my portmanteau ain’t come along yet.”
“Oh, he’ll excuse your not turning up in evening dress,” Seymour
replied laughing. “But seriously, Silas, what chance do you think we
have of getting back to the upper world?”
“Wal, I guess that’s a question as ain’t to be answered all of a
sudden,” the Yankee returned; “it kinder needs figurin’ out some.
Hullo! here comes our pard with a hull heap of grub. I calculate we’ll
postpone this yer confab till we’ve refreshed the inner man.”
As he spoke the king re-entered the temple, bearing on a metal
tray some strips of dried venison. These, together with a number of
small edible fungi, he placed before his guests, bidding them eat.
Strange though the food was to their taste, it was none the less
welcome, and they felt greatly refreshed at the conclusion of the
meal.
Hereafter for some hours they slept, Chenobi keeping guard the
while upon the terrace.
When next they looked upon the Ayuti he wore a metal band about
his forehead, and in the centre glowed a great stone, similar in
form--as Mervyn took pains to inform them--to that which
Nordhu, the priest, wore, but much larger. It was the symbol of
Chenobi’s kingly rank.
“Would ye look upon the city?” he asked as they rose yawning.
Mervyn answered at once in the affirmative.
“How about Wilson?” Seymour questioned.
“Oh, I can manage to hobble a bit,” replied the lad cheerfully;
“my leg’s going on finely.”
“Don’t overdo it, lad,” the baronet warned. “If the wound breaks
out afresh it will be the very deuce of a job to get it to heal. I’ll
stay here with you if you’re not feeling fit.”
“I’m feeling fit enough,” replied Tom; “if one of you will help
me down the steps, I can manage the rest.”
Seymour whispered a few words to the Ayuti, whereupon the giant
advanced, smiling broadly, and took the engineer in his great
arms.
“Here, I say, I can walk now, you know,” the latter remonstrated;
but his friends laughingly told him to hold his tongue.
With the light from the king’s jewel flashing before them, they
passed out on to the terrace and so down the steps. At the bottom
Chenobi put the engineer down, and, detaching a massive key from his
girdle, thrust it into the door through which he had taken the elk. It
turned easily in the lock, and, flinging open the door, the king
passed through.
An odour as of a stable greeted the nostrils of the explorers as
they followed him, and once more the baying of hounds came to their
ears. Down a steep incline they went, until they stood within a large
chamber. At the further end of this four great hounds lay, chained to
the wall. They were something like bloodhounds in build, but of
tremendous size, being much larger than mastiffs. Seymour, who was
somewhat of an authority on dogs, could not restrain his
admiration.
“What splendid brutes!” he cried, and moved fearlessly forward to
make their acquaintance. Within a few moments he was on excellent
terms with the great creatures, they receiving his advances with
pleasing friendliness.
The others could not at first bring themselves to approach the
monstrous dogs. They were so fearsome in their strength; but at
length, on Chenobi assuring them that they need not fear, they moved
closer.
“I guess these ’ud take the shine out of some I’ve observed,”
remarked the Yankee, patting one of the great heads, “and I’ve seen
some fairish-sized ones, too.”
“They’re immense,” Seymour replied.
Stepping to a recess in the wall, the king dragged forth the
carcase of some small animal--probably a fawn--and this he
flung to the hounds; then, leaving them feeding, the party passed
through the chamber into a second, much larger. This, they could see,
had evidently once been used as a stable, for by the light from the
Ayuti’s stone they observed that a row of stalls ran along each side.
These, built throughout of stone--even the feeding troughs being
of the same material--were empty save for one, wherein the great
elk was chained. He greeted his master with a thunderous bellow, and
Mervyn at once approached to get another view of the magnificent
creature. Whilst the scientist stood lost in admiration Seymour
questioned Chenobi concerning the purpose for which the stables had
been built.
“My people kept elk,” the Ayuti replied. “Threescore there were,
whereon rode the body-guard of the king. Muswani is the last, as I am
the last of the Ayutis. But come, let us move forward again.”
Into a third chamber they went, and in this were great stone
tanks, filled to the brim with clear, sparkling water.
“Marvellous!” Mervyn cried, as he examined the massive masonry of
the tanks and the conduits which fed them. “What an intelligent race
these people must have been! Whence comes the water?” he asked of
Chenobi.
“I know not,” was the reply, “save that it comes
underground.”
Out of the tank chamber the Ayuti led them, by a small doorway,
into a narrow passage. This they followed for some distance, ever
descending as they moved on, with the temperature steadily rising each
moment. At length they emerged into another vault-like chamber, and a
cry of astonishment burst from the four explorers.
Along one side of this hall a number of metal doors were set in
the rough-hewn rock which formed the wall. The sight of these,
together with the intense heat of the place, quickly revealed to the
comrades the purpose for which the chamber had once been used. It was
the ancient cooking-place of the city.
“The heat comes from the gulf of fire,” explained the Ayuti, as
he flung open one of the oven doors that his friends might examine the
interior.
“It’s a cute dodge,” the Yankee drawled admiringly. “I assume
this rock forms the wall of the fire gulf, an’ they get their heat
natural-like, without havin’ to stoke up.”
“I wondered where Chenobi managed to dry his meat,” the scientist
mused; “the thing’s clear now. Truly these Ayutis had no lack of
inventive genius!”
Retracing their steps to the outer door, the little band crossed
the square and entered one of the surrounding buildings,
which--so Chenobi informed them--had been the palace of the
kings. Here, as elsewhere--save for the temple, which appeared
well preserved--time had laid its destroying hand, but there
still remained much of the former beauty of the place. The pillars of
its bold front were covered with carving that would not have disgraced
the exterior of a cathedral, and the broad flight of steps leading up
to it, though cracked and broken in places, still added somewhat to
the dignity of its appearance.
These steps Wilson managed to climb, refusing the Ayuti’s offer
of assistance. Across an inlaid pavement they went, and through a
great entrance hall, in which stood numerous cunningly-carved statues.
Some of these stone effigies had fallen from their pedestals, and now
lay crumbling amid the dirt which ages of neglect had deposited over
the floor. Assuredly, if Professor Mervyn ever wrote his proposed work
on the wonders of the underworld, he would have no lack of matter. A
description of the palace alone would almost have filled a volume. The
throne-room they saw, with its curiously canopied throne, whereon a
long line of kings had sat in royal state; the musicians’ gallery,
from which sweet music had beguiled kingly ears grown weary with the
pleading of innumerable malcontents; the banquet hall also, with its
great stone tables, around which many a merry company had gathered.
But now all were silent as the grave! The gay crowds which once had
thronged these halls had vanished, and, ere many years had passed, the
Ayutis would have ceased to exist; with Chenobi, the king, their
dynasty and race alike ended.
Such thoughts as these poured into the minds of the adventurers
as they moved through the silent halls. There seemed something
uncanny, unnatural, about the place. It was as though the spirits of
the long since dead still hovered round, and it was with a feeling of
relief that the party left the palace.
Mervyn, his scientific zeal unquenched, was for visiting other of
the buildings, but the united voices of his comrades were against
this.
“No,” Seymour said, “if you go at all you must go alone. I’ve had
quite enough of these ghostly halls. What say you, Silas?”
“The same,” replied the American. “The place kinder gets on your
nerves. I shouldn’t advise you to poke around by yourself, Mervyn.
There don’t seem any danger, but I wouldn’t put my money on it. If
that old priest ain’t on our trail again before long my name ain’t Si.
K. Haverly!”
Seymour slipped his arm through that of Chenobi, and, with the
others close behind, they recrossed the square and ascended to the
terrace. Here for some time the party occupied themselves in examining
the colossal figure of the great idol. High above the flat roof of the
temple the monstrous image towered. Through the twilight they could
make out little of its features, but this much they observed, that it
had but one eye, of enormous size, and placed in the centre of its
forehead.
The singularity of this coincidence struck Mervyn at once. How it
came about that a people so obviously intelligent as the Ayutis should
worship the same deity as the wolfish barbarians of Nordhu he could
not imagine. But, further, not alone was it the same in form, the
inscription on the base of the altar proclaimed that the name was the
same. Translated, it ran thus: “To Ramouni, God of Light. Worship and
honour.”
Turning, the scientist questioned the Ayuti concerning the
ancient worship of the dead race. Ere the king could answer a
startling cry broke from Seymour:
“Great Scott! Sunshine!”
A ray of light stabbed the darkness like a golden sword, striking
full upon the monstrous eye of Ramouni, which flashed and scintillated
with a dazzling lustre.
“Sunshine!” echoed the others in a breath, and then, somewhere in
the interior of the image, a bell began to toll. Astounded, the
explorers stood gazing at the wonderful beam of light.
“It comes through a passage in the dead fire-mountain,” Chenobi
volunteered, “and lasts for but a few moments. See, it fades
already.”
Even as he spoke the tolling of the bell ceased, and the sunlight
vanished as suddenly as it had come, leaving the twilight of the
underworld the more gloomy for its brief visit.