"THE LOST WORLD\n\n                   I have wrought my simple plan\n                    If I give one hour of joy\n                  To the boy who's half a man,\n                    Or the man who's half a boy.\n\n\n\n                          The Lost World\n\n\n                                By\n\n                     SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE\n\n                         COPYRIGHT, 1912\n\n\n\n                             Foreword\n\n            Mr. E. D. Malone desires to state that\n          both the injunction for restraint and the\n          libel action have been withdrawn unreservedly\n          by Professor G. E. Challenger, who, being\n          satisfied that no criticism or comment in\n          this book is meant in an offensive spirit,\n          has guaranteed that he will place no\n          impediment to its publication and circulation.\n\n\n\n\n\n                             Contents\n\nCHAPTER\n\n    I.  \"THERE ARE HEROISMS ALL ROUND US\"\n   II.  \"TRY YOUR LUCK WITH PROFESSOR CHALLENGER\"\n  III.  \"HE IS A PERFECTLY IMPOSSIBLE PERSON\"\n   IV.  \"IT'S JUST THE VERY BIGGEST THING IN THE WORLD\"\n    V.  \"QUESTION!\"\n   VI.  \"I WAS THE FLAIL OF THE LORD\"\n  VII.  \"TO-MORROW WE DISAPPEAR INTO THE UNKNOWN\"\n VIII.  \"THE OUTLYING PICKETS OF THE NEW WORLD\"\n   IX.  \"WHO COULD HAVE FORESEEN IT?\"\n    X.  \"THE MOST WONDERFUL THINGS HAVE HAPPENED\"\n   XI.  \"FOR ONCE I WAS THE HERO\"\n  XII.  \"IT WAS DREADFUL IN THE FOREST\"\n XIII.  \"A SIGHT I SHALL NEVER FORGET\"\n  XIV.  \"THOSE WERE THE REAL CONQUESTS\"\n   XV.  \"OUR EYES HAVE SEEN GREAT WONDERS\"\n  XVI.  \"A PROCESSION!  A PROCESSION!\"\n\n\n\n\n                          THE LOST WORLD\n\n\n\n\n                          The Lost World\n\n                            CHAPTER I\n\n                \"There Are Heroisms All Round Us\"\n\nMr. Hungerton, her father, really was the most tactless person upon\nearth,--a fluffy, feathery, untidy cockatoo of a man, perfectly\ngood-natured, but absolutely centered upon his own silly self.  If\nanything could have driven me from Gladys, it would have been the\nthought of such a father-in-law.  I am convinced that he really\nbelieved in his heart that I came round to the Chestnuts three days a\nweek for the pleasure of his company, and very especially to hear his\nviews upon bimetallism, a subject upon which he was by way of being an\nauthority.\n\nFor an hour or more that evening I listened to his monotonous chirrup\nabout bad money driving out good, the token value of silver, the\ndepreciation of the rupee, and the true standards of exchange.\n\n\"Suppose,\" he cried with feeble violence, \"that all the debts in the\nworld were called up simultaneously, and immediate payment insisted\nupon,--what under our present conditions would happen then?\"\n\nI gave the self-evident answer that I should be a ruined man, upon\nwhich he jumped from his chair, reproved me for my habitual levity,\nwhich made it impossible for him to discuss any reasonable subject in\nmy presence, and bounced off out of the room to dress for a Masonic\nmeeting.\n\nAt last I was alone with Gladys, and the moment of Fate had come!  All\nthat evening I had felt like the soldier who awaits the signal which\nwill send him on a forlorn hope; hope of victory and fear of repulse\nalternating in his mind.\n\nShe sat with that proud, delicate profile of hers outlined against the\nred curtain.  How beautiful she was!  And yet how aloof!  We had been\nfriends, quite good friends; but never could I get beyond the same\ncomradeship which I might have established with one of my\nfellow-reporters upon the Gazette,--perfectly frank, perfectly kindly,\nand perfectly unsexual.  My instincts are all against a woman being too\nfrank and at her ease with me.  It is no compliment to a man.  Where\nthe real sex feeling begins, timidity and distrust are its companions,\nheritage from old wicked days when love and violence went often hand in\nhand.  The bent head, the averted eye, the faltering voice, the wincing\nfigure--these, and not the unshrinking gaze and frank reply, are the\ntrue signals of passion.  Even in my short life I had learned as much\nas that--or had inherited it in that race memory which we call instinct.\n\nGladys was full of every womanly quality.  Some judged her to be cold\nand hard; but such a thought was treason.  That delicately bronzed\nskin, almost oriental in its coloring, that raven hair, the large\nliquid eyes, the full but exquisite lips,--all the stigmata of passion\nwere there.  But I was sadly conscious that up to now I had never found\nthe secret of drawing it forth.  However, come what might, I should\nhave done with suspense and bring matters to a head to-night.  She\ncould but refuse me, and better be a repulsed lover than an accepted\nbrother.\n\nSo far my thoughts had carried me, and I was about to break the long\nand uneasy silence, when two critical, dark eyes looked round at me,\nand the proud head was shaken in smiling reproof.  \"I have a\npresentiment that you are going to propose, Ned.  I do wish you\nwouldn't; for things are so much nicer as they are.\"\n\nI drew my chair a little nearer.  \"Now, how did you know that I was\ngoing to propose?\" I asked in genuine wonder.\n\n\"Don't women always know?  Do you suppose any woman in the world was\never taken unawares?  But--oh, Ned, our friendship has been so good and\nso pleasant!  What a pity to spoil it!  Don't you feel how splendid it\nis that a young man and a young woman should be able to talk face to\nface as we have talked?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Gladys.  You see, I can talk face to face with--with the\nstation-master.\"  I can't imagine how that official came into the\nmatter; but in he trotted, and set us both laughing.  \"That does not\nsatisfy me in the least.  I want my arms round you, and your head on my\nbreast, and--oh, Gladys, I want----\"\n\nShe had sprung from her chair, as she saw signs that I proposed to\ndemonstrate some of my wants.  \"You've spoiled everything, Ned,\" she\nsaid.  \"It's all so beautiful and natural until this kind of thing\ncomes in!  It is such a pity!  Why can't you control yourself?\"\n\n\"I didn't invent it,\" I pleaded.  \"It's nature.  It's love.\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps if both love, it may be different.  I have never felt\nit.\"\n\n\"But you must--you, with your beauty, with your soul!  Oh, Gladys, you\nwere made for love!  You must love!\"\n\n\"One must wait till it comes.\"\n\n\"But why can't you love me, Gladys?  Is it my appearance, or what?\"\n\nShe did unbend a little.  She put forward a hand--such a gracious,\nstooping attitude it was--and she pressed back my head.  Then she\nlooked into my upturned face with a very wistful smile.\n\n\"No it isn't that,\" she said at last.  \"You're not a conceited boy by\nnature, and so I can safely tell you it is not that.  It's deeper.\"\n\n\"My character?\"\n\nShe nodded severely.\n\n\"What can I do to mend it?  Do sit down and talk it over.  No, really,\nI won't if you'll only sit down!\"\n\nShe looked at me with a wondering distrust which was much more to my\nmind than her whole-hearted confidence.  How primitive and bestial it\nlooks when you put it down in black and white!--and perhaps after all\nit is only a feeling peculiar to myself.  Anyhow, she sat down.\n\n\"Now tell me what's amiss with me?\"\n\n\"I'm in love with somebody else,\" said she.\n\nIt was my turn to jump out of my chair.\n\n\"It's nobody in particular,\" she explained, laughing at the expression\nof my face: \"only an ideal.  I've never met the kind of man I mean.\"\n\n\"Tell me about him.  What does he look like?\"\n\n\"Oh, he might look very much like you.\"\n\n\"How dear of you to say that!  Well, what is it that he does that I\ndon't do?  Just say the word,--teetotal, vegetarian, aeronaut,\ntheosophist, superman.  I'll have a try at it, Gladys, if you will only\ngive me an idea what would please you.\"\n\nShe laughed at the elasticity of my character.  \"Well, in the first\nplace, I don't think my ideal would speak like that,\" said she.  \"He\nwould be a harder, sterner man, not so ready to adapt himself to a\nsilly girl's whim.  But, above all, he must be a man who could do, who\ncould act, who could look Death in the face and have no fear of him, a\nman of great deeds and strange experiences.  It is never a man that I\nshould love, but always the glories he had won; for they would be\nreflected upon me.  Think of Richard Burton!  When I read his wife's\nlife of him I could so understand her love!  And Lady Stanley!  Did you\never read the wonderful last chapter of that book about her husband?\nThese are the sort of men that a woman could worship with all her soul,\nand yet be the greater, not the less, on account of her love, honored\nby all the world as the inspirer of noble deeds.\"\n\nShe looked so beautiful in her enthusiasm that I nearly brought down\nthe whole level of the interview.  I gripped myself hard, and went on\nwith the argument.\n\n\"We can't all be Stanleys and Burtons,\" said I; \"besides, we don't get\nthe chance,--at least, I never had the chance.  If I did, I should try\nto take it.\"\n\n\"But chances are all around you.  It is the mark of the kind of man I\nmean that he makes his own chances.  You can't hold him back.  I've\nnever met him, and yet I seem to know him so well.  There are heroisms\nall round us waiting to be done.  It's for men to do them, and for\nwomen to reserve their love as a reward for such men.  Look at that\nyoung Frenchman who went up last week in a balloon.  It was blowing a\ngale of wind; but because he was announced to go he insisted on\nstarting.  The wind blew him fifteen hundred miles in twenty-four\nhours, and he fell in the middle of Russia.  That was the kind of man I\nmean.  Think of the woman he loved, and how other women must have\nenvied her!  That's what I should like to be,--envied for my man.\"\n\n\"I'd have done it to please you.\"\n\n\"But you shouldn't do it merely to please me.  You should do it because\nyou can't help yourself, because it's natural to you, because the man\nin you is crying out for heroic expression.  Now, when you described\nthe Wigan coal explosion last month, could you not have gone down and\nhelped those people, in spite of the choke-damp?\"\n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"You never said so.\"\n\n\"There was nothing worth bucking about.\"\n\n\"I didn't know.\"  She looked at me with rather more interest.  \"That\nwas brave of you.\"\n\n\"I had to.  If you want to write good copy, you must be where the\nthings are.\"\n\n\"What a prosaic motive!  It seems to take all the romance out of it.\nBut, still, whatever your motive, I am glad that you went down that\nmine.\"  She gave me her hand; but with such sweetness and dignity that\nI could only stoop and kiss it.  \"I dare say I am merely a foolish\nwoman with a young girl's fancies.  And yet it is so real with me, so\nentirely part of my very self, that I cannot help acting upon it.  If I\nmarry, I do want to marry a famous man!\"\n\n\"Why should you not?\" I cried.  \"It is women like you who brace men up.\nGive me a chance, and see if I will take it!  Besides, as you say, men\nought to MAKE their own chances, and not wait until they are given.\nLook at Clive--just a clerk, and he conquered India!  By George!  I'll\ndo something in the world yet!\"\n\nShe laughed at my sudden Irish effervescence.  \"Why not?\" she said.\n\"You have everything a man could have,--youth, health, strength,\neducation, energy.  I was sorry you spoke.  And now I am glad--so\nglad--if it wakens these thoughts in you!\"\n\n\"And if I do----\"\n\nHer dear hand rested like warm velvet upon my lips.  \"Not another word,\nSir!  You should have been at the office for evening duty half an hour\nago; only I hadn't the heart to remind you.  Some day, perhaps, when\nyou have won your place in the world, we shall talk it over again.\"\n\nAnd so it was that I found myself that foggy November evening pursuing\nthe Camberwell tram with my heart glowing within me, and with the eager\ndetermination that not another day should elapse before I should find\nsome deed which was worthy of my lady.  But who--who in all this wide\nworld could ever have imagined the incredible shape which that deed was\nto take, or the strange steps by which I was led to the doing of it?\n\nAnd, after all, this opening chapter will seem to the reader to have\nnothing to do with my narrative; and yet there would have been no\nnarrative without it, for it is only when a man goes out into the world\nwith the thought that there are heroisms all round him, and with the\ndesire all alive in his heart to follow any which may come within sight\nof him, that he breaks away as I did from the life he knows, and\nventures forth into the wonderful mystic twilight land where lie the\ngreat adventures and the great rewards.  Behold me, then, at the office\nof the Daily Gazette, on the staff of which I was a most insignificant\nunit, with the settled determination that very night, if possible, to\nfind the quest which should be worthy of my Gladys!  Was it hardness,\nwas it selfishness, that she should ask me to risk my life for her own\nglorification?  Such thoughts may come to middle age; but never to\nardent three-and-twenty in the fever of his first love.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER II\n\n            \"Try Your Luck with Professor Challenger\"\n\nI always liked McArdle, the crabbed, old, round-backed, red-headed news\neditor, and I rather hoped that he liked me.  Of course, Beaumont was\nthe real boss; but he lived in the rarefied atmosphere of some Olympian\nheight from which he could distinguish nothing smaller than an\ninternational crisis or a split in the Cabinet.  Sometimes we saw him\npassing in lonely majesty to his inner sanctum, with his eyes staring\nvaguely and his mind hovering over the Balkans or the Persian Gulf.  He\nwas above and beyond us.  But McArdle was his first lieutenant, and it\nwas he that we knew.  The old man nodded as I entered the room, and he\npushed his spectacles far up on his bald forehead.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Malone, from all I hear, you seem to be doing very well,\"\nsaid he in his kindly Scotch accent.\n\nI thanked him.\n\n\"The colliery explosion was excellent.  So was the Southwark fire.  You\nhave the true descreeptive touch.  What did you want to see me about?\"\n\n\"To ask a favor.\"\n\nHe looked alarmed, and his eyes shunned mine. \"Tut, tut!  What is it?\"\n\n\"Do you think, Sir, that you could possibly send me on some mission for\nthe paper?  I would do my best to put it through and get you some good\ncopy.\"\n\n\"What sort of meesion had you in your mind, Mr. Malone?\"\n\n\"Well, Sir, anything that had adventure and danger in it.  I really\nwould do my very best.  The more difficult it was, the better it would\nsuit me.\"\n\n\"You seem very anxious to lose your life.\"\n\n\"To justify my life, Sir.\"\n\n\"Dear me, Mr. Malone, this is very--very exalted.  I'm afraid the day\nfor this sort of thing is rather past.  The expense of the 'special\nmeesion' business hardly justifies the result, and, of course, in any\ncase it would only be an experienced man with a name that would command\npublic confidence who would get such an order.  The big blank spaces in\nthe map are all being filled in, and there's no room for romance\nanywhere.  Wait a bit, though!\" he added, with a sudden smile upon his\nface.  \"Talking of the blank spaces of the map gives me an idea.  What\nabout exposing a fraud--a modern Munchausen--and making him\nrideeculous?  You could show him up as the liar that he is!  Eh, man,\nit would be fine.  How does it appeal to you?\"\n\n\"Anything--anywhere--I care nothing.\"\n\nMcArdle was plunged in thought for some minutes.\n\n\"I wonder whether you could get on friendly--or at least on talking\nterms with the fellow,\" he said, at last.  \"You seem to have a sort of\ngenius for establishing relations with people--seempathy, I suppose, or\nanimal magnetism, or youthful vitality, or something.  I am conscious\nof it myself.\"\n\n\"You are very good, sir.\"\n\n\"So why should you not try your luck with Professor Challenger, of\nEnmore Park?\"\n\nI dare say I looked a little startled.\n\n\"Challenger!\" I cried.  \"Professor Challenger, the famous zoologist!\nWasn't he the man who broke the skull of Blundell, of the Telegraph?\"\n\nThe news editor smiled grimly.\n\n\"Do you mind?  Didn't you say it was adventures you were after?\"\n\n\"It is all in the way of business, sir,\" I answered.\n\n\"Exactly.  I don't suppose he can always be so violent as that.  I'm\nthinking that Blundell got him at the wrong moment, maybe, or in the\nwrong fashion.  You may have better luck, or more tact in handling him.\nThere's something in your line there, I am sure, and the Gazette should\nwork it.\"\n\n\"I really know nothing about him,\" said I.  \"I only remember his name\nin connection with the police-court proceedings, for striking Blundell.\"\n\n\"I have a few notes for your guidance, Mr. Malone.  I've had my eye on\nthe Professor for some little time.\"  He took a paper from a drawer.\n\"Here is a summary of his record.  I give it you briefly:--\n\n\"'Challenger, George Edward.  Born: Largs, N. B., 1863.  Educ.: Largs\nAcademy; Edinburgh University.  British Museum Assistant, 1892.\nAssistant-Keeper of Comparative Anthropology Department, 1893.\nResigned after acrimonious correspondence same year.  Winner of\nCrayston Medal for Zoological Research.  Foreign Member of'--well,\nquite a lot of things, about two inches of small type--'Societe Belge,\nAmerican Academy of Sciences, La Plata, etc., etc.  Ex-President\nPalaeontological Society.  Section H, British Association'--so on, so\non!--'Publications: \"Some Observations Upon a Series of Kalmuck\nSkulls\"; \"Outlines of Vertebrate Evolution\"; and numerous papers,\nincluding \"The underlying fallacy of Weissmannism,\" which caused heated\ndiscussion at the Zoological Congress of Vienna.  Recreations: Walking,\nAlpine climbing.  Address: Enmore Park, Kensington, W.'\n\n\"There, take it with you.  I've nothing more for you to-night.\"\n\nI pocketed the slip of paper.\n\n\"One moment, sir,\" I said, as I realized that it was a pink bald head,\nand not a red face, which was fronting me.  \"I am not very clear yet\nwhy I am to interview this gentleman.  What has he done?\"\n\nThe face flashed back again.\n\n\"Went to South America on a solitary expedeetion two years ago.  Came\nback last year.  Had undoubtedly been to South America, but refused to\nsay exactly where.  Began to tell his adventures in a vague way, but\nsomebody started to pick holes, and he just shut up like an oyster.\nSomething wonderful happened--or the man's a champion liar, which is\nthe more probable supposeetion.  Had some damaged photographs, said to\nbe fakes.  Got so touchy that he assaults anyone who asks questions,\nand heaves reporters down the stairs.  In my opinion he's just a\nhomicidal megalomaniac with a turn for science.  That's your man, Mr.\nMalone.  Now, off you run, and see what you can make of him.  You're\nbig enough to look after yourself.  Anyway, you are all safe.\nEmployers' Liability Act, you know.\"\n\nA grinning red face turned once more into a pink oval, fringed with\ngingery fluff; the interview was at an end.\n\nI walked across to the Savage Club, but instead of turning into it I\nleaned upon the railings of Adelphi Terrace and gazed thoughtfully for\na long time at the brown, oily river.  I can always think most sanely\nand clearly in the open air.  I took out the list of Professor\nChallenger's exploits, and I read it over under the electric lamp.\nThen I had what I can only regard as an inspiration.  As a Pressman, I\nfelt sure from what I had been told that I could never hope to get into\ntouch with this cantankerous Professor.  But these recriminations,\ntwice mentioned in his skeleton biography, could only mean that he was\na fanatic in science.  Was there not an exposed margin there upon which\nhe might be accessible?  I would try.\n\nI entered the club.  It was just after eleven, and the big room was\nfairly full, though the rush had not yet set in.  I noticed a tall,\nthin, angular man seated in an arm-chair by the fire.  He turned as I\ndrew my chair up to him.  It was the man of all others whom I should\nhave chosen--Tarp Henry, of the staff of Nature, a thin, dry, leathery\ncreature, who was full, to those who knew him, of kindly humanity.  I\nplunged instantly into my subject.\n\n\"What do you know of Professor Challenger?\"\n\n\"Challenger?\" He gathered his brows in scientific disapproval.\n\"Challenger was the man who came with some cock-and-bull story from\nSouth America.\"\n\n\"What story?\"\n\n\"Oh, it was rank nonsense about some queer animals he had discovered.\nI believe he has retracted since.  Anyhow, he has suppressed it all.\nHe gave an interview to Reuter's, and there was such a howl that he saw\nit wouldn't do.  It was a discreditable business.  There were one or\ntwo folk who were inclined to take him seriously, but he soon choked\nthem off.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"Well, by his insufferable rudeness and impossible behavior.  There was\npoor old Wadley, of the Zoological Institute.  Wadley sent a message:\n'The President of the Zoological Institute presents his compliments to\nProfessor Challenger, and would take it as a personal favor if he would\ndo them the honor to come to their next meeting.'  The answer was\nunprintable.\"\n\n\"You don't say?\"\n\n\"Well, a bowdlerized version of it would run:  'Professor Challenger\npresents his compliments to the President of the Zoological Institute,\nand would take it as a personal favor if he would go to the devil.'\"\n\n\"Good Lord!\"\n\n\"Yes, I expect that's what old Wadley said.  I remember his wail at the\nmeeting, which began:  'In fifty years experience of scientific\nintercourse----'  It quite broke the old man up.\"\n\n\"Anything more about Challenger?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm a bacteriologist, you know.  I live in a\nnine-hundred-diameter microscope.  I can hardly claim to take serious\nnotice of anything that I can see with my naked eye.  I'm a\nfrontiersman from the extreme edge of the Knowable, and I feel quite\nout of place when I leave my study and come into touch with all you\ngreat, rough, hulking creatures.  I'm too detached to talk scandal, and\nyet at scientific conversaziones I HAVE heard something of Challenger,\nfor he is one of those men whom nobody can ignore.  He's as clever as\nthey make 'em--a full-charged battery of force and vitality, but a\nquarrelsome, ill-conditioned faddist, and unscrupulous at that.  He had\ngone the length of faking some photographs over the South American\nbusiness.\"\n\n\"You say he is a faddist.  What is his particular fad?\"\n\n\"He has a thousand, but the latest is something about Weissmann and\nEvolution.  He had a fearful row about it in Vienna, I believe.\"\n\n\"Can't you tell me the point?\"\n\n\"Not at the moment, but a translation of the proceedings exists.  We\nhave it filed at the office.  Would you care to come?\"\n\n\"It's just what I want.  I have to interview the fellow, and I need\nsome lead up to him.  It's really awfully good of you to give me a\nlift.  I'll go with you now, if it is not too late.\"\n\n\nHalf an hour later I was seated in the newspaper office with a huge\ntome in front of me, which had been opened at the article \"Weissmann\nversus Darwin,\" with the sub heading, \"Spirited Protest at Vienna.\nLively Proceedings.\"  My scientific education having been somewhat\nneglected, I was unable to follow the whole argument, but it was\nevident that the English Professor had handled his subject in a very\naggressive fashion, and had thoroughly annoyed his Continental\ncolleagues.  \"Protests,\" \"Uproar,\" and \"General appeal to the Chairman\"\nwere three of the first brackets which caught my eye.  Most of the\nmatter might have been written in Chinese for any definite meaning that\nit conveyed to my brain.\n\n\"I wish you could translate it into English for me,\" I said,\npathetically, to my help-mate.\n\n\"Well, it is a translation.\"\n\n\"Then I'd better try my luck with the original.\"\n\n\"It is certainly rather deep for a layman.\"\n\n\"If I could only get a single good, meaty sentence which seemed to\nconvey some sort of definite human idea, it would serve my turn.  Ah,\nyes, this one will do.  I seem in a vague way almost to understand it.\nI'll copy it out.  This shall be my link with the terrible Professor.\"\n\n\"Nothing else I can do?\"\n\n\"Well, yes; I propose to write to him.  If I could frame the letter\nhere, and use your address it would give atmosphere.\"\n\n\"We'll have the fellow round here making a row and breaking the\nfurniture.\"\n\n\"No, no; you'll see the letter--nothing contentious, I assure you.\"\n\n\"Well, that's my chair and desk.  You'll find paper there.  I'd like to\ncensor it before it goes.\"\n\nIt took some doing, but I flatter myself that it wasn't such a bad job\nwhen it was finished.  I read it aloud to the critical bacteriologist\nwith some pride in my handiwork.\n\n\n\"DEAR PROFESSOR CHALLENGER,\" it said, \"As a humble student of Nature, I\nhave always taken the most profound interest in your speculations as to\nthe differences between Darwin and Weissmann.  I have recently had\noccasion to refresh my memory by re-reading----\"\n\n\n\"You infernal liar!\" murmured Tarp Henry.\n\n\n--\"by re-reading your masterly address at Vienna.  That lucid and\nadmirable statement seems to be the last word in the matter.  There is\none sentence in it, however--namely:  'I protest strongly against the\ninsufferable and entirely dogmatic assertion that each separate id is a\nmicrocosm possessed of an historical architecture elaborated slowly\nthrough the series of generations.' Have you no desire, in view of\nlater research, to modify this statement?  Do you not think that it is\nover-accentuated?  With your permission, I would ask the favor of an\ninterview, as I feel strongly upon the subject, and have certain\nsuggestions which I could only elaborate in a personal conversation.\nWith your consent, I trust to have the honor of calling at eleven\no'clock the day after to-morrow (Wednesday) morning.\n\n\"I remain, Sir, with assurances of profound respect, yours very truly,\n\nEDWARD D. MALONE.\"\n\n\n\"How's that?\" I asked, triumphantly.\n\n\"Well if your conscience can stand it----\"\n\n\"It has never failed me yet.\"\n\n\"But what do you mean to do?\"\n\n\"To get there.  Once I am in his room I may see some opening.  I may\neven go the length of open confession.  If he is a sportsman he will be\ntickled.\"\n\n\"Tickled, indeed!  He's much more likely to do the tickling.  Chain\nmail, or an American football suit--that's what you'll want.  Well,\ngood-bye.  I'll have the answer for you here on Wednesday morning--if\nhe ever deigns to answer you.  He is a violent, dangerous, cantankerous\ncharacter, hated by everyone who comes across him, and the butt of the\nstudents, so far as they dare take a liberty with him.  Perhaps it\nwould be best for you if you never heard from the fellow at all.\"\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER III\n\n              \"He is a Perfectly Impossible Person\"\n\nMy friend's fear or hope was not destined to be realized.  When I\ncalled on Wednesday there was a letter with the West Kensington\npostmark upon it, and my name scrawled across the envelope in a\nhandwriting which looked like a barbed-wire railing.  The contents were\nas follows:--\n\n\n                              \"ENMORE PARK, W.\n\n\"SIR,--I have duly received your note, in which you claim to endorse my\nviews, although I am not aware that they are dependent upon endorsement\neither from you or anyone else.  You have ventured to use the word\n'speculation' with regard to my statement upon the subject of\nDarwinism, and I would call your attention to the fact that such a word\nin such a connection is offensive to a degree.  The context convinces\nme, however, that you have sinned rather through ignorance and\ntactlessness than through malice, so I am content to pass the matter\nby.  You quote an isolated sentence from my lecture, and appear to have\nsome difficulty in understanding it.  I should have thought that only a\nsub-human intelligence could have failed to grasp the point, but if it\nreally needs amplification I shall consent to see you at the hour\nnamed, though visits and visitors of every sort are exceeding\ndistasteful to me.  As to your suggestion that I may modify my opinion,\nI would have you know that it is not my habit to do so after a\ndeliberate expression of my mature views.  You will kindly show the\nenvelope of this letter to my man, Austin, when you call, as he has to\ntake every precaution to shield me from the intrusive rascals who call\nthemselves 'journalists.'\n\n                          \"Yours faithfully,\n                            \"GEORGE EDWARD CHALLENGER.\"\n\n\nThis was the letter that I read aloud to Tarp Henry, who had come down\nearly to hear the result of my venture.  His only remark was, \"There's\nsome new stuff, cuticura or something, which is better than arnica.\"\nSome people have such extraordinary notions of humor.\n\nIt was nearly half-past ten before I had received my message, but a\ntaxicab took me round in good time for my appointment.  It was an\nimposing porticoed house at which we stopped, and the heavily-curtained\nwindows gave every indication of wealth upon the part of this\nformidable Professor.  The door was opened by an odd, swarthy, dried-up\nperson of uncertain age, with a dark pilot jacket and brown leather\ngaiters.  I found afterwards that he was the chauffeur, who filled the\ngaps left by a succession of fugitive butlers.  He looked me up and\ndown with a searching light blue eye.\n\n\"Expected?\" he asked.\n\n\"An appointment.\"\n\n\"Got your letter?\"\n\nI produced the envelope.\n\n\"Right!\"  He seemed to be a person of few words.  Following him down\nthe passage I was suddenly interrupted by a small woman, who stepped\nout from what proved to be the dining-room door.  She was a bright,\nvivacious, dark-eyed lady, more French than English in her type.\n\n\"One moment,\" she said.  \"You can wait, Austin.  Step in here, sir.\nMay I ask if you have met my husband before?\"\n\n\"No, madam, I have not had the honor.\"\n\n\"Then I apologize to you in advance.  I must tell you that he is a\nperfectly impossible person--absolutely impossible.  If you are\nforewarned you will be the more ready to make allowances.\"\n\n\"It is most considerate of you, madam.\"\n\n\"Get quickly out of the room if he seems inclined to be violent.  Don't\nwait to argue with him.  Several people have been injured through doing\nthat.  Afterwards there is a public scandal and it reflects upon me and\nall of us.  I suppose it wasn't about South America you wanted to see\nhim?\"\n\nI could not lie to a lady.\n\n\"Dear me!  That is his most dangerous subject.  You won't believe a\nword he says--I'm sure I don't wonder.  But don't tell him so, for it\nmakes him very violent.  Pretend to believe him, and you may get\nthrough all right.  Remember he believes it himself.  Of that you may\nbe assured.  A more honest man never lived.  Don't wait any longer or\nhe may suspect.  If you find him dangerous--really dangerous--ring the\nbell and hold him off until I come.  Even at his worst I can usually\ncontrol him.\"\n\nWith these encouraging words the lady handed me over to the taciturn\nAustin, who had waited like a bronze statue of discretion during our\nshort interview, and I was conducted to the end of the passage.  There\nwas a tap at a door, a bull's bellow from within, and I was face to\nface with the Professor.\n\nHe sat in a rotating chair behind a broad table, which was covered with\nbooks, maps, and diagrams.  As I entered, his seat spun round to face\nme.  His appearance made me gasp.  I was prepared for something\nstrange, but not for so overpowering a personality as this.  It was his\nsize which took one's breath away--his size and his imposing presence.\nHis head was enormous, the largest I have ever seen upon a human being.\nI am sure that his top-hat, had I ever ventured to don it, would have\nslipped over me entirely and rested on my shoulders.  He had the face\nand beard which I associate with an Assyrian bull; the former florid,\nthe latter so black as almost to have a suspicion of blue, spade-shaped\nand rippling down over his chest.  The hair was peculiar, plastered\ndown in front in a long, curving wisp over his massive forehead.  The\neyes were blue-gray under great black tufts, very clear, very critical,\nand very masterful.  A huge spread of shoulders and a chest like a\nbarrel were the other parts of him which appeared above the table, save\nfor two enormous hands covered with long black hair.  This and a\nbellowing, roaring, rumbling voice made up my first impression of the\nnotorious Professor Challenger.\n\n\"Well?\" said he, with a most insolent stare.  \"What now?\"\n\nI must keep up my deception for at least a little time longer,\notherwise here was evidently an end of the interview.\n\n\"You were good enough to give me an appointment, sir,\" said I, humbly,\nproducing his envelope.\n\nHe took my letter from his desk and laid it out before him.\n\n\"Oh, you are the young person who cannot understand plain English, are\nyou?  My general conclusions you are good enough to approve, as I\nunderstand?\"\n\n\"Entirely, sir--entirely!\"  I was very emphatic.\n\n\"Dear me!  That strengthens my position very much, does it not?  Your\nage and appearance make your support doubly valuable.  Well, at least\nyou are better than that herd of swine in Vienna, whose gregarious\ngrunt is, however, not more offensive than the isolated effort of the\nBritish hog.\"  He glared at me as the present representative of the\nbeast.\n\n\"They seem to have behaved abominably,\" said I.\n\n\"I assure you that I can fight my own battles, and that I have no\npossible need of your sympathy.  Put me alone, sir, and with my back to\nthe wall.  G. E. C. is happiest then.  Well, sir, let us do what we can\nto curtail this visit, which can hardly be agreeable to you, and is\ninexpressibly irksome to me.  You had, as I have been led to believe,\nsome comments to make upon the proposition which I advanced in my\nthesis.\"\n\nThere was a brutal directness about his methods which made evasion\ndifficult.  I must still make play and wait for a better opening.  It\nhad seemed simple enough at a distance.  Oh, my Irish wits, could they\nnot help me now, when I needed help so sorely?  He transfixed me with\ntwo sharp, steely eyes.  \"Come, come!\" he rumbled.\n\n\"I am, of course, a mere student,\" said I, with a fatuous smile,\n\"hardly more, I might say, than an earnest inquirer.  At the same time,\nit seemed to me that you were a little severe upon Weissmann in this\nmatter.  Has not the general evidence since that date tended to--well,\nto strengthen his position?\"\n\n\"What evidence?\"  He spoke with a menacing calm.\n\n\"Well, of course, I am aware that there is not any what you might call\nDEFINITE evidence.  I alluded merely to the trend of modern thought and\nthe general scientific point of view, if I might so express it.\"\n\nHe leaned forward with great earnestness.\n\n\"I suppose you are aware,\" said he, checking off points upon his\nfingers, \"that the cranial index is a constant factor?\"\n\n\"Naturally,\" said I.\n\n\"And that telegony is still sub judice?\"\n\n\"Undoubtedly.\"\n\n\"And that the germ plasm is different from the parthenogenetic egg?\"\n\n\"Why, surely!\" I cried, and gloried in my own audacity.\n\n\"But what does that prove?\" he asked, in a gentle, persuasive voice.\n\n\"Ah, what indeed?\" I murmured.  \"What does it prove?\"\n\n\"Shall I tell you?\" he cooed.\n\n\"Pray do.\"\n\n\"It proves,\" he roared, with a sudden blast of fury, \"that you are the\ndamnedest imposter in London--a vile, crawling journalist, who has no\nmore science than he has decency in his composition!\"\n\nHe had sprung to his feet with a mad rage in his eyes.  Even at that\nmoment of tension I found time for amazement at the discovery that he\nwas quite a short man, his head not higher than my shoulder--a stunted\nHercules whose tremendous vitality had all run to depth, breadth, and\nbrain.\n\n\"Gibberish!\" he cried, leaning forward, with his fingers on the table\nand his face projecting.  \"That's what I have been talking to you,\nsir--scientific gibberish!  Did you think you could match cunning with\nme--you with your walnut of a brain?  You think you are omnipotent, you\ninfernal scribblers, don't you?  That your praise can make a man and\nyour blame can break him?  We must all bow to you, and try to get a\nfavorable word, must we?  This man shall have a leg up, and this man\nshall have a dressing down!  Creeping vermin, I know you!  You've got\nout of your station.  Time was when your ears were clipped.  You've\nlost your sense of proportion.  Swollen gas-bags!  I'll keep you in\nyour proper place.  Yes, sir, you haven't got over G. E. C.  There's\none man who is still your master.  He warned you off, but if you WILL\ncome, by the Lord you do it at your own risk.  Forfeit, my good Mr.\nMalone, I claim forfeit!  You have played a rather dangerous game, and\nit strikes me that you have lost it.\"\n\n\"Look here, sir,\" said I, backing to the door and opening it; \"you can\nbe as abusive as you like.  But there is a limit.  You shall not\nassault me.\"\n\n\"Shall I not?\"  He was slowly advancing in a peculiarly menacing way,\nbut he stopped now and put his big hands into the side-pockets of a\nrather boyish short jacket which he wore.  \"I have thrown several of\nyou out of the house.  You will be the fourth or fifth.  Three pound\nfifteen each--that is how it averaged.  Expensive, but very necessary.\nNow, sir, why should you not follow your brethren?  I rather think you\nmust.\"  He resumed his unpleasant and stealthy advance, pointing his\ntoes as he walked, like a dancing master.\n\nI could have bolted for the hall door, but it would have been too\nignominious.  Besides, a little glow of righteous anger was springing\nup within me.  I had been hopelessly in the wrong before, but this\nman's menaces were putting me in the right.\n\n\"I'll trouble you to keep your hands off, sir.  I'll not stand it.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\"  His black moustache lifted and a white fang twinkled in a\nsneer.  \"You won't stand it, eh?\"\n\n\"Don't be such a fool, Professor!\" I cried.  \"What can you hope for?\nI'm fifteen stone, as hard as nails, and play center three-quarter\nevery Saturday for the London Irish.  I'm not the man----\"\n\nIt was at that moment that he rushed me.  It was lucky that I had\nopened the door, or we should have gone through it.  We did a\nCatharine-wheel together down the passage.  Somehow we gathered up a\nchair upon our way, and bounded on with it towards the street.  My\nmouth was full of  his beard, our arms were locked, our bodies\nintertwined, and that infernal chair radiated its legs all round us.\nThe watchful Austin had thrown open the hall door.  We went with a back\nsomersault down the front steps.  I have seen the two Macs attempt\nsomething of the kind at the halls, but it appears to take some\npractise to do it without hurting oneself.  The chair went to matchwood\nat the bottom, and we rolled apart into the gutter.  He sprang to his\nfeet, waving his fists and wheezing like an asthmatic.\n\n\"Had enough?\" he panted.\n\n\"You infernal bully!\" I cried, as I gathered myself together.\n\nThen and there we should have tried the thing out, for he was\neffervescing with fight, but fortunately I was rescued from an odious\nsituation.  A policeman was beside us, his notebook in his hand.\n\n\"What's all this?  You ought to be ashamed\" said the policeman.  It was\nthe most rational remark which I had heard in Enmore Park.  \"Well,\" he\ninsisted, turning to me, \"what is it, then?\"\n\n\"This man attacked me,\" said I.\n\n\"Did you attack him?\" asked the policeman.\n\nThe Professor breathed hard and said nothing.\n\n\"It's not the first time, either,\" said the policeman, severely,\nshaking his head.  \"You were in trouble last month for the same thing.\nYou've blackened this young man's eye.  Do you give him in charge, sir?\"\n\nI relented.\n\n\"No,\" said I, \"I do not.\"\n\n\"What's that?\" said the policeman.\n\n\"I was to blame myself.  I intruded upon him.  He gave me fair warning.\"\n\nThe policeman snapped up his notebook.\n\n\"Don't let us have any more such goings-on,\" said he.  \"Now, then!\nMove on, there, move on!\"  This to a butcher's boy, a maid, and one or\ntwo loafers who had collected.  He clumped heavily down the street,\ndriving this little flock before him.  The Professor looked at me, and\nthere was something humorous at the back of his eyes.\n\n\"Come in!\" said he.  \"I've not done with you yet.\"\n\nThe speech had a sinister sound, but I followed him none the less into\nthe house.  The man-servant, Austin, like a wooden image, closed the\ndoor behind us.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER IV\n\n         \"It's Just the very Biggest Thing in the World\"\n\nHardly was it shut when Mrs. Challenger darted out from the\ndining-room.  The small woman was in a furious temper.  She barred her\nhusband's way like an enraged chicken in front of a bulldog.  It was\nevident that she had seen my exit, but had not observed my return.\n\n\"You brute, George!\" she screamed.  \"You've hurt that nice young man.\"\n\nHe jerked backwards with his thumb.\n\n\"Here he is, safe and sound behind me.\"\n\nShe was confused, but not unduly so.\n\n\"I am so sorry, I didn't see you.\"\n\n\"I assure you, madam, that it is all right.\"\n\n\"He has marked your poor face!  Oh, George, what a brute you are!\nNothing but scandals from one end of the week to the other.  Everyone\nhating and making fun of you.  You've finished my patience.  This ends\nit.\"\n\n\"Dirty linen,\" he rumbled.\n\n\"It's not a secret,\" she cried.  \"Do you suppose that the whole\nstreet--the whole of London, for that matter----  Get away, Austin, we\ndon't want you here.  Do you suppose they don't all talk about you?\nWhere is your dignity?  You, a man who should have been Regius\nProfessor at a great University with a thousand students all revering\nyou.  Where is your dignity, George?\"\n\n\"How about yours, my dear?\"\n\n\"You try me too much.  A ruffian--a common brawling ruffian--that's\nwhat you have become.\"\n\n\"Be good, Jessie.\"\n\n\"A roaring, raging bully!\"\n\n\"That's done it!  Stool of penance!\" said he.\n\nTo my amazement he stooped, picked her up, and placed her sitting upon\na high pedestal of black marble in the angle of the hall.  It was at\nleast seven feet high, and so thin that she could hardly balance upon\nit.  A more absurd object than she presented cocked up there with her\nface convulsed with anger, her feet dangling, and her body rigid for\nfear of an upset, I could not imagine.\n\n\"Let me down!\" she wailed.\n\n\"Say 'please.'\"\n\n\"You brute, George!  Let me down this instant!\"\n\n\"Come into the study, Mr. Malone.\"\n\n\"Really, sir----!\" said I, looking at the lady.\n\n\"Here's Mr. Malone pleading for you, Jessie.  Say 'please,' and down\nyou come.\"\n\n\"Oh, you brute!  Please! please!\"\n\nHe took her down as if she had been a canary.\n\n\"You must behave yourself, dear.  Mr. Malone is a Pressman.  He will\nhave it all in his rag to-morrow, and sell an extra dozen among our\nneighbors.  'Strange story of high life'--you felt fairly high on that\npedestal, did you not?  Then a sub-title, 'Glimpse of a singular\nmenage.'  He's a foul feeder, is Mr. Malone, a carrion eater, like all\nof his kind--porcus ex grege diaboli--a swine from the devil's herd.\nThat's it, Malone--what?\"\n\n\"You are really intolerable!\" said I, hotly.\n\nHe bellowed with laughter.\n\n\"We shall have a coalition presently,\" he boomed, looking from his wife\nto me and puffing out his enormous chest.  Then, suddenly altering his\ntone, \"Excuse this frivolous family badinage, Mr. Malone.  I called you\nback for some more serious purpose than to mix you up with our little\ndomestic pleasantries.  Run away, little woman, and don't fret.\"  He\nplaced a huge hand upon each of her shoulders.  \"All that you say is\nperfectly true.  I should be a better man if I did what you advise, but\nI shouldn't be quite George Edward Challenger.  There are plenty of\nbetter men, my dear, but only one G. E. C.  So make the best of him.\"\nHe suddenly gave her a resounding kiss, which embarrassed me even more\nthan his violence had done.  \"Now, Mr. Malone,\" he continued, with a\ngreat accession of dignity, \"this way, if YOU please.\"\n\nWe re-entered the room which we had left so tumultuously ten minutes\nbefore.  The Professor closed the door carefully behind us, motioned me\ninto an arm-chair, and pushed a cigar-box under my nose.\n\n\"Real San Juan Colorado,\" he said.  \"Excitable people like you are the\nbetter for narcotics.  Heavens! don't bite it!  Cut--and cut with\nreverence!  Now lean back, and listen attentively to whatever I may\ncare to say to you.  If any remark should occur to you, you can reserve\nit for some more opportune time.\n\n\"First of all, as to your return to my house after your most\njustifiable expulsion\"--he protruded his beard, and stared at me as one\nwho challenges and invites contradiction--\"after, as I say, your\nwell-merited expulsion.  The reason lay in your answer to that most\nofficious policeman, in which I seemed to discern some glimmering of\ngood feeling upon your part--more, at any rate, than I am accustomed to\nassociate with your profession.  In admitting that the fault of the\nincident lay with you, you gave some evidence of a certain mental\ndetachment and breadth of view which attracted my favorable notice.\nThe sub-species of the human race to which you unfortunately belong has\nalways been below my mental horizon.  Your words brought you suddenly\nabove it.  You swam up into my serious notice.  For this reason I asked\nyou to return with me, as I was minded to make your further\nacquaintance.  You will kindly deposit your ash in the small Japanese\ntray on the bamboo table which stands at your left elbow.\"\n\nAll this he boomed forth like a professor addressing his class.  He had\nswung round his revolving chair so as to face me, and he sat all puffed\nout like an enormous bull-frog, his head laid back and his eyes\nhalf-covered by supercilious lids.  Now he suddenly turned himself\nsideways, and all I could see of him was tangled hair with a red,\nprotruding ear.  He was scratching about among the litter of papers\nupon his desk.  He faced me presently with what looked like a very\ntattered sketch-book in his hand.\n\n\"I am going to talk to you about South America,\" said he.  \"No comments\nif you please.  First of all, I wish you to understand that nothing I\ntell you now is to be repeated in any public way unless you have my\nexpress permission.  That permission will, in all human probability,\nnever be given.  Is that clear?\"\n\n\"It is very hard,\" said I. \"Surely a judicious account----\"\n\nHe replaced the notebook upon the table.\n\n\"That ends it,\" said he.  \"I wish you a very good morning.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" I cried.  \"I submit to any conditions.  So far as I can see,\nI have no choice.\"\n\n\"None in the world,\" said he.\n\n\"Well, then, I promise.\"\n\n\"Word of honor?\"\n\n\"Word of honor.\"\n\nHe looked at me with doubt in his insolent eyes.\n\n\"After all, what do I know about your honor?\" said he.\n\n\"Upon my word, sir,\" I cried, angrily, \"you take very great liberties!\nI have never been so insulted in my life.\"\n\nHe seemed more interested than annoyed at my outbreak.\n\n\"Round-headed,\" he muttered.  \"Brachycephalic, gray-eyed, black-haired,\nwith suggestion of the negroid.  Celtic, I presume?\"\n\n\"I am an Irishman, sir.\"\n\n\"Irish Irish?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"That, of course, explains it.  Let me see; you have given me your\npromise that my confidence will be respected?  That confidence, I may\nsay, will be far from complete.  But I am prepared to give you a few\nindications which will be of interest.  In the first place, you are\nprobably aware that two years ago I made a journey to South\nAmerica--one which will be classical in the scientific history of the\nworld?  The object of my journey was to verify some conclusions of\nWallace and of Bates, which could only be done by observing their\nreported facts under the same conditions in which they had themselves\nnoted them.  If my expedition had no other results it would still have\nbeen noteworthy, but a curious incident occurred to me while there\nwhich opened up an entirely fresh line of inquiry.\n\n\"You are aware--or probably, in this half-educated age, you are not\naware--that the country round some parts of the Amazon is still only\npartially explored, and that a great number of tributaries, some of\nthem entirely uncharted, run into the main river.  It was my business\nto visit this little-known back-country and to examine its fauna, which\nfurnished me with the materials for several chapters for that great and\nmonumental work upon zoology which will be my life's justification.  I\nwas returning, my work accomplished, when I had occasion to spend a\nnight at a small Indian village at a point where a certain\ntributary--the name and position of which I withhold--opens into the\nmain river.  The natives were Cucama Indians, an amiable but degraded\nrace, with mental powers hardly superior to the average Londoner.  I\nhad effected some cures among them upon my way up the river, and had\nimpressed them considerably with my personality, so that I was not\nsurprised to find myself eagerly awaited upon my return.  I gathered\nfrom their signs that someone had urgent need of my medical services,\nand I followed the chief to one of his huts.  When I entered I found\nthat the sufferer to whose aid I had been summoned had that instant\nexpired.  He was, to my surprise, no Indian, but a white man; indeed, I\nmay say a very white man, for he was flaxen-haired and had some\ncharacteristics of an albino.  He was clad in rags, was very emaciated,\nand bore every trace of prolonged hardship.  So far as I could\nunderstand the account of the natives, he was a complete stranger to\nthem, and had come upon their village through the woods alone and in\nthe last stage of exhaustion.\n\n\"The man's knapsack lay beside the couch, and I examined the contents.\nHis name was written upon a tab within it--Maple White, Lake Avenue,\nDetroit, Michigan.  It is a name to which I am prepared always to lift\nmy hat.  It is not too much to say that it will rank level with my own\nwhen the final credit of this business comes to be apportioned.\n\n\"From the contents of the knapsack it was evident that this man had\nbeen an artist and poet in search of effects.  There were scraps of\nverse.  I do not profess to be a judge of such things, but they\nappeared to me to be singularly wanting in merit.  There were also some\nrather commonplace pictures of river scenery, a paint-box, a box of\ncolored chalks, some brushes, that curved bone which lies upon my\ninkstand, a volume of Baxter's 'Moths and Butterflies,' a cheap\nrevolver, and a few cartridges.  Of personal equipment he either had\nnone or he had lost it in his journey.  Such were the total effects of\nthis strange American Bohemian.\n\n\"I was turning away from him when I observed that something projected\nfrom the front of his ragged jacket.  It was this sketch-book, which\nwas as dilapidated then as you see it now.  Indeed, I can assure you\nthat a first folio of Shakespeare could not be treated with greater\nreverence than this relic has been since it came into my possession.  I\nhand it to you now, and I ask you to take it page by page and to\nexamine the contents.\"\n\nHe helped himself to a cigar and leaned back with a fiercely critical\npair of eyes, taking note of the effect which this document would\nproduce.\n\nI had opened the volume with some expectation of a revelation, though\nof what nature I could not imagine.  The first page was disappointing,\nhowever, as it contained nothing but the picture of a very fat man in a\npea-jacket, with the legend, \"Jimmy Colver on the Mail-boat,\" written\nbeneath it.  There followed several pages which were filled with small\nsketches of Indians and their ways.  Then came a picture of a cheerful\nand corpulent ecclesiastic in a shovel hat, sitting opposite a very\nthin European, and the inscription:  \"Lunch with Fra Cristofero at\nRosario.\"  Studies of women and babies accounted for several more\npages, and then there was an unbroken series of animal drawings with\nsuch explanations as \"Manatee upon Sandbank,\" \"Turtles and Their Eggs,\"\n\"Black Ajouti under a Miriti Palm\"--the matter disclosing some sort of\npig-like animal; and finally came a double page of studies of\nlong-snouted and very unpleasant saurians.  I could make nothing of it,\nand said so to the Professor.\n\n\"Surely these are only crocodiles?\"\n\n\"Alligators!  Alligators!  There is hardly such a thing as a true\ncrocodile in South America.  The distinction between them----\"\n\n\"I meant that I could see nothing unusual--nothing to justify what you\nhave said.\"\n\nHe smiled serenely.\n\n\"Try the next page,\" said he.\n\nI was still unable to sympathize.  It was a full-page sketch of a\nlandscape roughly tinted in color--the kind of painting which an\nopen-air artist takes as a guide to a future more elaborate effort.\nThere was a pale-green foreground of feathery vegetation, which sloped\nupwards and ended in a line of cliffs dark red in color, and curiously\nribbed like some basaltic formations which I have seen.  They extended\nin an unbroken wall right across the background.  At one point was an\nisolated pyramidal rock, crowned by a great tree, which appeared to be\nseparated by a cleft from the main crag.  Behind it all, a blue\ntropical sky.  A thin green line of vegetation fringed the summit of\nthe ruddy cliff.\n\n\"Well?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is no doubt a curious formation,\" said I \"but I am not geologist\nenough to say that it is wonderful.\"\n\n\"Wonderful!\" he repeated.  \"It is unique.  It is incredible.  No one on\nearth has ever dreamed of such a possibility.  Now the next.\"\n\nI turned it over, and gave an exclamation of surprise.  There was a\nfull-page picture of the most extraordinary creature that I had ever\nseen.  It was the wild dream of an opium smoker, a vision of delirium.\nThe head was like that of a fowl, the body that of a bloated lizard,\nthe trailing tail was furnished with upward-turned spikes, and the\ncurved back was edged with a high serrated fringe, which looked like a\ndozen cocks' wattles placed behind each other.  In front of this\ncreature was an absurd mannikin, or dwarf, in human form, who stood\nstaring at it.\n\n\"Well, what do you think of that?\" cried the Professor, rubbing his\nhands with an air of triumph.\n\n\"It is monstrous--grotesque.\"\n\n\"But what made him draw such an animal?\"\n\n\"Trade gin, I should think.\"\n\n\"Oh, that's the best explanation you can give, is it?\"\n\n\"Well, sir, what is yours?\"\n\n\"The obvious one that the creature exists.  That is actually sketched\nfrom the life.\"\n\nI should have laughed only that I had a vision of our doing another\nCatharine-wheel down the passage.\n\n\"No doubt,\" said I, \"no doubt,\" as one humors an imbecile.  \"I confess,\nhowever,\" I added, \"that this tiny human figure puzzles me.  If it were\nan Indian we could set it down as evidence of some pigmy race in\nAmerica, but it appears to be a European in a sun-hat.\"\n\nThe Professor snorted like an angry buffalo.  \"You really touch the\nlimit,\" said he.  \"You enlarge my view of the possible.  Cerebral\nparesis!  Mental inertia!  Wonderful!\"\n\nHe was too absurd to make me angry.  Indeed, it was a waste of energy,\nfor if you were going to be angry with this man you would be angry all\nthe time.  I contented myself with smiling wearily.  \"It struck me that\nthe man was small,\" said I.\n\n\"Look here!\" he cried, leaning forward and dabbing a great hairy\nsausage of a finger on to the picture.  \"You see that plant behind the\nanimal; I suppose you thought it was a dandelion or a Brussels\nsprout--what?  Well, it is a vegetable ivory palm, and they run to\nabout fifty or sixty feet.  Don't you see that the man is put in for a\npurpose?  He couldn't really have stood in front of that brute and\nlived to draw it.  He sketched himself in to give a scale of heights.\nHe was, we will say, over five feet high.  The tree is ten times\nbigger, which is what one would expect.\"\n\n\"Good heavens!\" I cried.  \"Then you think the beast was---- Why,\nCharing Cross station would hardly make a kennel for such a brute!\"\n\n\"Apart from exaggeration, he is certainly a well-grown specimen,\" said\nthe Professor, complacently.\n\n\"But,\" I cried, \"surely the whole experience of the human race is not\nto be set aside on account of a single sketch\"--I had turned over the\nleaves and ascertained that there was nothing more in the book--\"a\nsingle sketch by a wandering American artist who may have done it under\nhashish, or in the delirium of fever, or simply in order to gratify a\nfreakish imagination.  You can't, as a man of science, defend such a\nposition as that.\"\n\nFor answer the Professor took a book down from a shelf.\n\n\"This is an excellent monograph by my gifted friend, Ray Lankester!\"\nsaid he.  \"There is an illustration here which would interest you.  Ah,\nyes, here it is!  The inscription beneath it runs:  'Probable\nappearance in life of the Jurassic Dinosaur Stegosaurus.  The hind leg\nalone is twice as tall as a full-grown man.'  Well, what do you make of\nthat?\"\n\nHe handed me the open book.  I started as I looked at the picture.  In\nthis reconstructed animal of a dead world there was certainly a very\ngreat resemblance to the sketch of the unknown artist.\n\n\"That is certainly remarkable,\" said I.\n\n\"But you won't admit that it is final?\"\n\n\"Surely it might be a coincidence, or this American may have seen a\npicture of the kind and carried it in his memory.  It would be likely\nto recur to a man in a delirium.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" said the Professor, indulgently; \"we leave it at that.  I\nwill now ask you to look at this bone.\" He handed over the one which he\nhad already described as part of the dead man's possessions.  It was\nabout six inches long, and thicker than my thumb, with some indications\nof dried cartilage at one end of it.\n\n\"To what known creature does that bone belong?\" asked the Professor.\n\nI examined it with care and tried to recall some half-forgotten\nknowledge.\n\n\"It might be a very thick human collar-bone,\" I said.\n\nMy companion waved his hand in contemptuous deprecation.\n\n\"The human collar-bone is curved.  This is straight.  There is a groove\nupon its surface showing that a great tendon played across it, which\ncould not be the case with a clavicle.\"\n\n\"Then I must confess that I don't know what it is.\"\n\n\"You need not be ashamed to expose your ignorance, for I don't suppose\nthe whole South Kensington staff could give a name to it.\" He took a\nlittle bone the size of a bean out of a pill-box.  \"So far as I am a\njudge this human bone is the analogue of the one which you hold in your\nhand.  That will give you some idea of the size of the creature.  You\nwill observe from the cartilage that this is no fossil specimen, but\nrecent.  What do you say to that?\"\n\n\"Surely in an elephant----\"\n\nHe winced as if in pain.\n\n\"Don't!  Don't talk of elephants in South America.  Even in these days\nof Board schools----\"\n\n\"Well,\" I interrupted, \"any large South American animal--a tapir, for\nexample.\"\n\n\"You may take it, young man, that I am versed in the elements of my\nbusiness.  This is not a conceivable bone either of a tapir or of any\nother creature known to zoology.  It belongs to a very large, a very\nstrong, and, by all analogy, a very fierce animal which exists upon the\nface of the earth, but has not yet come under the notice of science.\nYou are still unconvinced?\"\n\n\"I am at least deeply interested.\"\n\n\"Then your case is not hopeless.  I feel that there is reason lurking\nin you somewhere, so we will patiently grope round for it.  We will now\nleave the dead American and proceed with my narrative.  You can imagine\nthat I could hardly come away from the Amazon without probing deeper\ninto the matter.  There were indications as to the direction from which\nthe dead traveler had come.  Indian legends would alone have been my\nguide, for I found that rumors of a strange land were common among all\nthe riverine tribes.  You have heard, no doubt, of Curupuri?\"\n\n\"Never.\"\n\n\"Curupuri is the spirit of the woods, something terrible, something\nmalevolent, something to be avoided.  None can describe its shape or\nnature, but it is a word of terror along the Amazon.  Now all tribes\nagree as to the direction in which Curupuri lives.  It was the same\ndirection from which the American had come.  Something terrible lay\nthat way.  It was my business to find out what it was.\"\n\n\"What did you do?\"  My flippancy was all gone.  This massive man\ncompelled one's attention and respect.\n\n\"I overcame the extreme reluctance of the natives--a reluctance which\nextends even to talk upon the subject--and by judicious persuasion and\ngifts, aided, I will admit, by some threats of coercion, I got two of\nthem to act as guides.  After many adventures which I need not\ndescribe, and after traveling a distance which I will not mention, in a\ndirection which I withhold, we came at last to a tract of country which\nhas never been described, nor, indeed, visited save by my unfortunate\npredecessor.  Would you kindly look at this?\"\n\nHe handed me a photograph--half-plate size.\n\n\"The unsatisfactory appearance of it is due to the fact,\" said he,\n\"that on descending the river the boat was upset and the case which\ncontained the undeveloped films was broken, with disastrous results.\nNearly all of them were totally ruined--an irreparable loss.  This is\none of the few which partially escaped.  This explanation of\ndeficiencies or abnormalities you will kindly accept.  There was talk\nof faking.  I am not in a mood to argue such a point.\"\n\nThe photograph was certainly very off-colored.  An unkind critic might\neasily have misinterpreted that dim surface.  It was a dull gray\nlandscape, and as I gradually deciphered the details of it I realized\nthat it represented a long and enormously high line of cliffs exactly\nlike an immense cataract seen in the distance, with a sloping,\ntree-clad plain in the foreground.\n\n\"I believe it is the same place as the painted picture,\" said I.\n\n\"It is the same place,\" the Professor answered.  \"I found traces of the\nfellow's camp.  Now look at this.\"\n\nIt was a nearer view of the same scene, though the photograph was\nextremely defective.  I could distinctly see the isolated, tree-crowned\npinnacle of rock which was detached from the crag.\n\n\"I have no doubt of it at all,\" said I.\n\n\"Well, that is something gained,\" said he.  \"We progress, do we not?\nNow, will you please look at the top of that rocky pinnacle?  Do you\nobserve something there?\"\n\n\"An enormous tree.\"\n\n\"But on the tree?\"\n\n\"A large bird,\" said I.\n\nHe handed me a lens.\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, peering through it, \"a large bird stands on the tree.\nIt appears to have a considerable beak.  I should say it was a pelican.\"\n\n\"I cannot congratulate you upon your eyesight,\" said the Professor.\n\"It is not a pelican, nor, indeed, is it a bird.  It may interest you\nto know that I succeeded in shooting that particular specimen.  It was\nthe only absolute proof of my experiences which I was able to bring\naway with me.\"\n\n\"You have it, then?\"  Here at last was tangible corroboration.\n\n\"I had it.  It was unfortunately lost with so much else in the same\nboat accident which ruined my photographs.  I clutched at it as it\ndisappeared in the swirl of the rapids, and part of its wing was left\nin my hand.  I was insensible when washed ashore, but the miserable\nremnant of my superb specimen was still intact; I now lay it before\nyou.\"\n\nFrom a drawer he produced what seemed to me to be the upper portion of\nthe wing of a large bat.  It was at least two feet in length, a curved\nbone, with a membranous veil beneath it.\n\n\"A monstrous bat!\" I suggested.\n\n\"Nothing of the sort,\" said the Professor, severely.  \"Living, as I do,\nin an educated and scientific atmosphere, I could not have conceived\nthat the first principles of zoology were so little known.  Is it\npossible that you do not know the elementary fact in comparative\nanatomy, that the wing of a bird is really the forearm, while the wing\nof a bat consists of three elongated fingers with membranes between?\nNow, in this case, the bone is certainly not the forearm, and you can\nsee for yourself that this is a single membrane hanging upon a single\nbone, and therefore that it cannot belong to a bat.  But if it is\nneither bird nor bat, what is it?\"\n\nMy small stock of knowledge was exhausted.\n\n\"I really do not know,\" said I.\n\nHe opened the standard work to which he had already referred me.\n\n\"Here,\" said he, pointing to the picture of an extraordinary flying\nmonster, \"is an excellent reproduction of the dimorphodon, or\npterodactyl, a flying reptile of the Jurassic period.  On the next page\nis a diagram of the mechanism of its wing.  Kindly compare it with the\nspecimen in your hand.\"\n\nA wave of amazement passed over me as I looked.  I was convinced.\nThere could be no getting away from it.  The cumulative proof was\noverwhelming.  The sketch, the photographs, the narrative, and now the\nactual specimen--the evidence was complete.  I said so--I said so\nwarmly, for I felt that the Professor was an ill-used man.  He leaned\nback in his chair with drooping eyelids and a tolerant smile, basking\nin this sudden gleam of sunshine.\n\n\"It's just the very biggest thing that I ever heard of!\" said I, though\nit was my journalistic rather than my scientific enthusiasm that was\nroused.  \"It is colossal.  You are a Columbus of science who has\ndiscovered a lost world.  I'm awfully sorry if I seemed to doubt you.\nIt was all so unthinkable.  But I understand evidence when I see it,\nand this should be good enough for anyone.\"\n\nThe Professor purred with satisfaction.\n\n\"And then, sir, what did you do next?\"\n\n\"It was the wet season, Mr. Malone, and my stores were exhausted.  I\nexplored some portion of this huge cliff, but I was unable to find any\nway to scale it.  The pyramidal rock upon which I saw and shot the\npterodactyl was more accessible.  Being something of a cragsman, I did\nmanage to get half way to the top of that.  From that height I had a\nbetter idea of the plateau upon the top of the crags.  It appeared to\nbe very large; neither to east nor to west could I see any end to the\nvista of green-capped cliffs.  Below, it is a swampy, jungly region,\nfull of snakes, insects, and fever.  It is a natural protection to this\nsingular country.\"\n\n\"Did you see any other trace of life?\"\n\n\"No, sir, I did not; but during the week that we lay encamped at the\nbase of the cliff we heard some very strange noises from above.\"\n\n\"But the creature that the American drew?  How do you account for that?\"\n\n\"We can only suppose that he must have made his way to the summit and\nseen it there.  We know, therefore, that there is a way up.  We know\nequally that it must be a very difficult one, otherwise the creatures\nwould have come down and overrun the surrounding country.  Surely that\nis clear?\"\n\n\"But how did they come to be there?\"\n\n\"I do not think that the problem is a very obscure one,\" said the\nProfessor; \"there can only be one explanation.  South America is, as\nyou may have heard, a granite continent.  At this single point in the\ninterior there has been, in some far distant age, a great, sudden\nvolcanic upheaval.  These cliffs, I may remark, are basaltic, and\ntherefore plutonic.  An area, as large perhaps as Sussex, has been\nlifted up en bloc with all its living contents, and cut off by\nperpendicular precipices of a hardness which defies erosion from all\nthe rest of the continent.  What is the result?  Why, the ordinary laws\nof Nature are suspended.  The various checks which influence the\nstruggle for existence in the world at large are all neutralized or\naltered.  Creatures survive which would otherwise disappear.  You will\nobserve that both the pterodactyl and the stegosaurus are Jurassic, and\ntherefore of a great age in the order of life.  They have been\nartificially conserved by those strange accidental conditions.\"\n\n\"But surely your evidence is conclusive.  You have only to lay it\nbefore the proper authorities.\"\n\n\"So in my simplicity, I had imagined,\" said the Professor, bitterly.\n\"I can only tell you that it was not so, that I was met at every turn\nby incredulity, born partly of stupidity and partly of jealousy.  It is\nnot my nature, sir, to cringe to any man, or to seek to prove a fact if\nmy word has been doubted.  After the first I have not condescended to\nshow such corroborative proofs as I possess.  The subject became\nhateful to me--I would not speak of it.  When men like yourself, who\nrepresent the foolish curiosity of the public, came to disturb my\nprivacy I was unable to meet them with dignified reserve.  By nature I\nam, I admit, somewhat fiery, and under provocation I am inclined to be\nviolent.  I fear you may have remarked it.\"\n\nI nursed my eye and was silent.\n\n\"My wife has frequently remonstrated with me upon the subject, and yet\nI fancy that any man of honor would feel the same.  To-night, however,\nI propose to give an extreme example of the control of the will over\nthe emotions.  I invite you to be present at the exhibition.\"  He\nhanded me a card from his desk.  \"You will perceive that Mr. Percival\nWaldron, a naturalist of some popular repute, is announced to lecture\nat eight-thirty at the Zoological Institute's Hall upon 'The Record of\nthe Ages.' I have been specially invited to be present upon the\nplatform, and to move a vote of thanks to the lecturer.  While doing\nso, I shall make it my business, with infinite tact and delicacy, to\nthrow out a few remarks which may arouse the interest of the audience\nand cause some of them to desire to go more deeply into the matter.\nNothing contentious, you understand, but only an indication that there\nare greater deeps beyond.  I shall hold myself strongly in leash, and\nsee whether by this self-restraint I attain a more favorable result.\"\n\n\"And I may come?\" I asked eagerly.\n\n\"Why, surely,\" he answered, cordially.  He had an enormously massive\ngenial manner, which was almost as overpowering as his violence.  His\nsmile of benevolence was a wonderful thing, when his cheeks would\nsuddenly bunch into two red apples, between his half-closed eyes and\nhis great black beard.  \"By all means, come.  It will be a comfort to\nme to know that I have one ally in the hall, however inefficient and\nignorant of the subject he may be.  I fancy there will be a large\naudience, for Waldron, though an absolute charlatan, has a considerable\npopular following.  Now, Mr. Malone, I have given you rather more of my\ntime than I had intended.  The individual must not monopolize what is\nmeant for the world.  I shall be pleased to see you at the lecture\nto-night.  In the meantime, you will understand that no public use is\nto be made of any of the material that I have given you.\"\n\n\"But Mr. McArdle--my news editor, you know--will want to know what I\nhave done.\"\n\n\"Tell him what you like.  You can say, among other things, that if he\nsends anyone else to intrude upon me I shall call upon him with a\nriding-whip.  But I leave it to you that nothing of all this appears in\nprint.  Very good.  Then the Zoological Institute's Hall at\neight-thirty to-night.\"  I had a last impression of red cheeks, blue\nrippling beard, and intolerant eyes, as he waved me out of the room.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER V\n\n                           \"Question!\"\n\nWhat with the physical shocks incidental to my first interview with\nProfessor Challenger and the mental ones which accompanied the second,\nI was a somewhat demoralized journalist by the time I found myself in\nEnmore Park once more.  In my aching head the one thought was throbbing\nthat there really was truth in this man's story, that it was of\ntremendous consequence, and that it would work up into inconceivable\ncopy for the Gazette when I could obtain permission to use it.  A\ntaxicab was waiting at the end of the road, so I sprang into it and\ndrove down to the office.  McArdle was at his post as usual.\n\n\"Well,\" he cried, expectantly, \"what may it run to?  I'm thinking,\nyoung man, you have been in the wars.  Don't tell me that he assaulted\nyou.\"\n\n\"We had a little difference at first.\"\n\n\"What a man it is!  What did you do?\"\n\n\"Well, he became more reasonable and we had a chat.  But I got nothing\nout of him--nothing for publication.\"\n\n\"I'm not so sure about that.  You got a black eye out of him, and\nthat's for publication.  We can't have this reign of terror, Mr.\nMalone.  We must bring the man to his bearings.  I'll have a leaderette\non him to-morrow that will raise a blister.  Just give me the material\nand I will engage to brand the fellow for ever.  Professor\nMunchausen--how's that for an inset headline?  Sir John Mandeville\nredivivus--Cagliostro--all the imposters and bullies in history.  I'll\nshow him up for the fraud he is.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't do that, sir.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because he is not a fraud at all.\"\n\n\"What!\" roared McArdle.  \"You don't mean to say you really believe this\nstuff of his about mammoths and mastodons and great sea sairpents?\"\n\n\"Well, I don't know about that.  I don't think he makes any claims of\nthat kind.  But I do believe he has got something new.\"\n\n\"Then for Heaven's sake, man, write it up!\"\n\n\"I'm longing to, but all I know he gave me in confidence and on\ncondition that I didn't.\"  I condensed into a few sentences the\nProfessor's narrative.  \"That's how it stands.\"\n\nMcArdle looked deeply incredulous.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Malone,\" he said at last, \"about this scientific meeting\nto-night; there can be no privacy about that, anyhow.  I don't suppose\nany paper will want to report it, for Waldron has been reported already\na dozen times, and no one is aware that Challenger will speak.  We may\nget a scoop, if we are lucky.  You'll be there in any case, so you'll\njust give us a pretty full report.  I'll keep space up to midnight.\"\n\nMy day was a busy one, and I had an early dinner at the Savage Club\nwith Tarp Henry, to whom I gave some account of my adventures.  He\nlistened with a sceptical smile on his gaunt face, and roared with\nlaughter on hearing that the Professor had convinced me.\n\n\"My dear chap, things don't happen like that in real life.  People\ndon't stumble upon enormous discoveries and then lose their evidence.\nLeave that to the novelists.  The fellow is as full of tricks as the\nmonkey-house at the Zoo.  It's all bosh.\"\n\n\"But the American poet?\"\n\n\"He never existed.\"\n\n\"I saw his sketch-book.\"\n\n\"Challenger's sketch-book.\"\n\n\"You think he drew that animal?\"\n\n\"Of course he did.  Who else?\"\n\n\"Well, then, the photographs?\"\n\n\"There was nothing in the photographs.  By your own admission you only\nsaw a bird.\"\n\n\"A pterodactyl.\"\n\n\"That's what HE says.  He put the pterodactyl into your head.\"\n\n\"Well, then, the bones?\"\n\n\"First one out of an Irish stew.  Second one vamped up for the\noccasion.  If you are clever and know your business you can fake a bone\nas easily as you can a photograph.\"\n\nI began to feel uneasy.  Perhaps, after all, I had been premature in my\nacquiescence.  Then I had a sudden happy thought.\n\n\"Will you come to the meeting?\" I asked.\n\nTarp Henry looked thoughtful.\n\n\"He is not a popular person, the genial Challenger,\" said he.  \"A lot\nof people have accounts to settle with him.  I should say he is about\nthe best-hated man in London.  If the medical students turn out there\nwill be no end of a rag.  I don't want to get into a bear-garden.\"\n\n\"You might at least do him the justice to hear him state his own case.\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps it's only fair.  All right.  I'm your man for the\nevening.\"\n\nWhen we arrived at the hall we found a much greater concourse than I\nhad expected.  A line of electric broughams discharged their little\ncargoes of white-bearded professors, while the dark stream of humbler\npedestrians, who crowded through the arched door-way, showed that the\naudience would be popular as well as scientific.  Indeed, it became\nevident to us as soon as we had taken our seats that a youthful and\neven boyish spirit was abroad in the gallery and the back portions of\nthe hall.  Looking behind me, I could see rows of faces of the familiar\nmedical student type.  Apparently the great hospitals had each sent\ndown their contingent.  The behavior of the audience at present was\ngood-humored, but mischievous.  Scraps of popular songs were chorused\nwith an enthusiasm which was a strange prelude to a scientific lecture,\nand there was already a tendency to personal chaff which promised a\njovial evening to others, however embarrassing it might be to the\nrecipients of these dubious honors.\n\nThus, when old Doctor Meldrum, with his well-known curly-brimmed\nopera-hat, appeared upon the platform, there was such a universal query\nof \"Where DID you get that tile?\" that he hurriedly removed it, and\nconcealed it furtively under his chair.  When gouty Professor Wadley\nlimped down to his seat there were general affectionate inquiries from\nall parts of the hall as to the exact state of his poor toe, which\ncaused him obvious embarrassment.  The greatest demonstration of all,\nhowever, was at the entrance of my new acquaintance, Professor\nChallenger, when he passed down to take his place at the extreme end of\nthe front row of the platform.  Such a yell of welcome broke forth when\nhis black beard first protruded round the corner that I began to\nsuspect Tarp Henry was right in his surmise, and that this assemblage\nwas there not merely for the sake of the lecture, but because it had\ngot rumored abroad that the famous Professor would take part in the\nproceedings.\n\nThere was some sympathetic laughter on his entrance among the front\nbenches of well-dressed spectators, as though the demonstration of the\nstudents in this instance was not unwelcome to them.  That greeting\nwas, indeed, a frightful outburst of sound, the uproar of the carnivora\ncage when the step of the bucket-bearing keeper is heard in the\ndistance.  There was an offensive tone in it, perhaps, and yet in the\nmain it struck me as mere riotous outcry, the noisy reception of one\nwho amused and interested them, rather than of one they disliked or\ndespised.  Challenger smiled with weary and tolerant contempt, as a\nkindly man would meet the yapping of a litter of puppies.  He sat\nslowly down, blew out his chest, passed his hand caressingly down his\nbeard, and looked with drooping eyelids and supercilious eyes at the\ncrowded hall before him.  The uproar of his advent had not yet died\naway when Professor Ronald Murray, the chairman, and Mr. Waldron, the\nlecturer, threaded their way to the front, and the proceedings began.\n\nProfessor Murray will, I am sure, excuse me if I say that he has the\ncommon fault of most Englishmen of being inaudible.  Why on earth\npeople who have something to say which is worth hearing should not take\nthe slight trouble to learn how to make it heard is one of the strange\nmysteries of modern life.  Their methods are as reasonable as to try to\npour some precious stuff from the spring to the reservoir through a\nnon-conducting pipe, which could by the least effort be opened.\nProfessor Murray made several profound remarks to his white tie and to\nthe water-carafe upon the table, with a humorous, twinkling aside to\nthe silver candlestick upon his right.  Then he sat down, and Mr.\nWaldron, the famous popular lecturer, rose amid a general murmur of\napplause.  He was a stern, gaunt man, with a harsh voice, and an\naggressive manner, but he had the merit of knowing how to assimilate\nthe ideas of other men, and to pass them on in a way which was\nintelligible and even interesting to the lay public, with a happy knack\nof being funny about the most unlikely objects, so that the precession\nof the Equinox or the formation of a vertebrate became a highly\nhumorous process as treated by him.\n\nIt was a bird's-eye view of creation, as interpreted by science, which,\nin language always clear and sometimes picturesque, he unfolded before\nus.  He told us of the globe, a huge mass of flaming gas, flaring\nthrough the heavens.  Then he pictured the solidification, the cooling,\nthe wrinkling which formed the mountains, the steam which turned to\nwater, the slow preparation of the stage upon which was to be played\nthe inexplicable drama of life.  On the origin of life itself he was\ndiscreetly vague.  That the germs of it could hardly have survived the\noriginal roasting was, he declared, fairly certain.  Therefore it had\ncome later.  Had it built itself out of the cooling, inorganic elements\nof the globe?  Very likely.  Had the germs of it arrived from outside\nupon a meteor?  It was hardly conceivable.  On the whole, the wisest\nman was the least dogmatic upon the point.  We could not--or at least\nwe had not succeeded up to date in making organic life in our\nlaboratories out of inorganic materials.  The gulf between the dead and\nthe living was something which our chemistry could not as yet bridge.\nBut there was a higher and subtler chemistry of Nature, which, working\nwith great forces over long epochs, might well produce results which\nwere impossible for us.  There the matter must be left.\n\nThis brought the lecturer to the great ladder of animal life, beginning\nlow down in molluscs and feeble sea creatures, then up rung by rung\nthrough reptiles and fishes, till at last we came to a kangaroo-rat, a\ncreature which brought forth its young alive, the direct ancestor of\nall mammals, and presumably, therefore, of everyone in the audience.\n(\"No, no,\" from a sceptical student in the back row.)  If the young\ngentleman in the red tie who cried \"No, no,\" and who presumably claimed\nto have been hatched out of an egg, would wait upon him after the\nlecture, he would be glad to see such a curiosity.  (Laughter.)  It was\nstrange to think that the climax of all the age-long process of Nature\nhad been the creation of that gentleman in the red tie.  But had the\nprocess stopped?  Was this gentleman to be taken as the final type--the\nbe-all and end-all of development?  He hoped that he would not hurt the\nfeelings of the gentleman in the red tie if he maintained that,\nwhatever virtues that gentleman might possess in private life, still\nthe vast processes of the universe were not fully justified if they\nwere to end entirely in his production.  Evolution was not a spent\nforce, but one still working, and even greater achievements were in\nstore.\n\nHaving thus, amid a general titter, played very prettily with his\ninterrupter, the lecturer went back to his picture of the past, the\ndrying of the seas, the emergence of the sand-bank, the sluggish,\nviscous life which lay upon their margins, the overcrowded lagoons, the\ntendency of the sea creatures to take refuge upon the mud-flats, the\nabundance of food awaiting them, their consequent enormous growth.\n\"Hence, ladies and gentlemen,\" he added, \"that frightful brood of\nsaurians which still affright our eyes when seen in the Wealden or in\nthe Solenhofen slates, but which were fortunately extinct long before\nthe first appearance of mankind upon this planet.\"\n\n\"Question!\" boomed a voice from the platform.\n\nMr. Waldron was a strict disciplinarian with a gift of acid humor, as\nexemplified upon the gentleman with the red tie, which made it perilous\nto interrupt him.  But this interjection appeared to him so absurd that\nhe was at a loss how to deal with it.  So looks the Shakespearean who\nis confronted by a rancid Baconian, or the astronomer who is assailed\nby a flat-earth fanatic.  He paused for a moment, and then, raising his\nvoice, repeated slowly the words:  \"Which were extinct before the\ncoming of man.\"\n\n\"Question!\" boomed the voice once more.\n\nWaldron looked with amazement along the line of professors upon the\nplatform until his eyes fell upon the figure of Challenger, who leaned\nback in his chair with closed eyes and an amused expression, as if he\nwere smiling in his sleep.\n\n\"I see!\" said Waldron, with a shrug.  \"It is my friend Professor\nChallenger,\" and amid laughter he renewed his lecture as if this was a\nfinal explanation and no more need be said.\n\nBut the incident was far from being closed.  Whatever path the lecturer\ntook amid the wilds of the past seemed invariably to lead him to some\nassertion as to extinct or prehistoric life which instantly brought the\nsame bulls' bellow from the Professor.  The audience began to\nanticipate it and to roar with delight when it came.  The packed\nbenches of students joined in, and every time Challenger's beard\nopened, before any sound could come forth, there was a yell of\n\"Question!\" from a hundred voices, and an answering counter cry of\n\"Order!\" and \"Shame!\" from as many more.  Waldron, though a hardened\nlecturer and a strong man, became rattled.  He hesitated, stammered,\nrepeated himself, got snarled in a long sentence, and finally turned\nfuriously upon the cause of his troubles.\n\n\"This is really intolerable!\" he cried, glaring across the platform.\n\"I must ask you, Professor Challenger, to cease these ignorant and\nunmannerly interruptions.\"\n\nThere was a hush over the hall, the students rigid with delight at\nseeing the high gods on Olympus quarrelling among themselves.\nChallenger levered his bulky figure slowly out of his chair.\n\n\"I must in turn ask you, Mr. Waldron,\" he said, \"to cease to make\nassertions which are not in strict accordance with scientific fact.\"\n\nThe words unloosed a tempest.  \"Shame!  Shame!\"  \"Give him a hearing!\"\n\"Put him out!\"  \"Shove him off the platform!\"  \"Fair play!\" emerged\nfrom a general roar of amusement or execration.  The chairman was on\nhis feet flapping both his hands and bleating excitedly.  \"Professor\nChallenger--personal--views--later,\" were the solid peaks above his\nclouds of inaudible mutter.  The interrupter bowed, smiled, stroked his\nbeard, and relapsed into his chair.  Waldron, very flushed and warlike,\ncontinued his observations.  Now and then, as he made an assertion, he\nshot a venomous glance at his opponent, who seemed to be slumbering\ndeeply, with the same broad, happy smile upon his face.\n\nAt last the lecture came to an end--I am inclined to think that it was\na premature one, as the peroration was hurried and disconnected.  The\nthread of the argument had been rudely broken, and the audience was\nrestless and expectant.  Waldron sat down, and, after a chirrup from\nthe chairman, Professor Challenger rose and advanced to the edge of the\nplatform.  In the interests of my paper I took down his speech verbatim.\n\n\"Ladies and Gentlemen,\" he began, amid a sustained interruption from\nthe back.  \"I beg pardon--Ladies, Gentlemen, and Children--I must\napologize, I had inadvertently omitted a considerable section of this\naudience\" (tumult, during which the Professor stood with one hand\nraised and his enormous head nodding sympathetically, as if he were\nbestowing a pontifical blessing upon the crowd), \"I have been selected\nto move a vote of thanks to Mr. Waldron for the very picturesque and\nimaginative address to which we have just listened.  There are points\nin it with which I disagree, and it has been my duty to indicate them\nas they arose, but, none the less, Mr. Waldron has accomplished his\nobject well, that object being to give a simple and interesting account\nof what he conceives to have been the history of our planet.  Popular\nlectures are the easiest to listen to, but Mr. Waldron\" (here he beamed\nand blinked at the lecturer) \"will excuse me when I say that they are\nnecessarily both superficial and misleading, since they have to be\ngraded to the comprehension of an ignorant audience.\"  (Ironical\ncheering.)  \"Popular lecturers are in their nature parasitic.\"  (Angry\ngesture of protest from Mr. Waldron.)  \"They exploit for fame or cash\nthe work which has been done by their indigent and unknown brethren.\nOne smallest new fact obtained in the laboratory, one brick built into\nthe temple of science, far outweighs any second-hand exposition which\npasses an idle hour, but can leave no useful result behind it.  I put\nforward this obvious reflection, not out of any desire to disparage Mr.\nWaldron in particular, but that you may not lose your sense of\nproportion and mistake the acolyte for the high priest.\" (At this point\nMr. Waldron whispered to the chairman, who half rose and said something\nseverely to his water-carafe.)  \"But enough of this!\"  (Loud and\nprolonged cheers.)  \"Let me pass to some subject of wider interest.\nWhat is the particular point upon which I, as an original investigator,\nhave challenged our lecturer's accuracy?  It is upon the permanence of\ncertain types of animal life upon the earth.  I do not speak upon this\nsubject as an amateur, nor, I may add, as a popular lecturer, but I\nspeak as one whose scientific conscience compels him to adhere closely\nto facts, when I say that Mr. Waldron is very wrong in supposing that\nbecause he has never himself seen a so-called prehistoric animal,\ntherefore these creatures no longer exist.  They are indeed, as he has\nsaid, our ancestors, but they are, if I may use the expression, our\ncontemporary ancestors, who can still be found with all their hideous\nand formidable characteristics if one has but the energy and hardihood\nto seek their haunts.  Creatures which were supposed to be Jurassic,\nmonsters who would hunt down and devour our largest and fiercest\nmammals, still exist.\" (Cries of \"Bosh!\" \"Prove it!\" \"How do YOU know?\"\n\"Question!\") \"How do I know, you ask me? I know because I have visited\ntheir secret haunts.  I know because I have seen some of them.\"\n(Applause, uproar, and a voice, \"Liar!\")  \"Am I a liar?\" (General\nhearty and noisy assent.)  \"Did I hear someone say that I was a liar?\nWill the person who called me a liar kindly stand up that I may know\nhim?\"  (A voice, \"Here he is, sir!\" and an inoffensive little person in\nspectacles, struggling violently, was held up among a group of\nstudents.)  \"Did you venture to call me a liar?\"  (\"No, sir, no!\"\nshouted the accused, and disappeared like a jack-in-the-box.)  \"If any\nperson in this hall dares to doubt my veracity, I shall be glad to have\na few words with him after the lecture.\"  (\"Liar!\")  \"Who said that?\"\n(Again the inoffensive one plunging desperately, was elevated high into\nthe air.) \"If I come down among you----\" (General chorus of \"Come,\nlove, come!\" which interrupted the proceedings for some moments, while\nthe chairman, standing up and waving both his arms, seemed to be\nconducting the music.  The Professor, with his face flushed, his\nnostrils dilated, and his beard bristling, was now in a proper Berserk\nmood.)  \"Every great discoverer has been met with the same\nincredulity--the sure brand of a generation of fools.  When great facts\nare laid before you, you have not the intuition, the imagination which\nwould help you to understand them.  You can only throw mud at the men\nwho have risked their lives to open new fields to science.  You\npersecute the prophets!  Galileo!  Darwin, and I----\" (Prolonged\ncheering and complete interruption.)\n\nAll this is from my hurried notes taken at the time, which give little\nnotion of the absolute chaos to which the assembly had by this time\nbeen reduced.  So terrific was the uproar that several ladies had\nalready beaten a hurried retreat.  Grave and reverend seniors seemed to\nhave caught the prevailing spirit as badly as the students, and I saw\nwhite-bearded men rising and shaking their fists at the obdurate\nProfessor.  The whole great audience seethed and simmered like a\nboiling pot.  The Professor took a step forward and raised both his\nhands.  There was something so big and arresting and virile in the man\nthat the clatter and shouting died gradually away before his commanding\ngesture and his masterful eyes.  He seemed to have a definite message.\nThey hushed to hear it.\n\n\"I will not detain you,\" he said.  \"It is not worth it.  Truth is\ntruth, and the noise of a number of foolish young men--and, I fear I\nmust add, of their equally foolish seniors--cannot affect the matter.\nI claim that I have opened a new field of science.  You dispute it.\"\n(Cheers.)  \"Then I put you to the test.  Will you accredit one or more\nof your own number to go out as your representatives and test my\nstatement in your name?\"\n\nMr. Summerlee, the veteran Professor of Comparative Anatomy, rose among\nthe audience, a tall, thin, bitter man, with the withered aspect of a\ntheologian.  He wished, he said, to ask Professor Challenger whether\nthe results to which he had alluded in his remarks had been obtained\nduring a journey to the headwaters of the Amazon made by him two years\nbefore.\n\nProfessor Challenger answered that they had.\n\nMr. Summerlee desired to know how it was that Professor Challenger\nclaimed to have made discoveries in those regions which had been\noverlooked by Wallace, Bates, and other previous explorers of\nestablished scientific repute.\n\nProfessor Challenger answered that Mr. Summerlee appeared to be\nconfusing the Amazon with the Thames; that it was in reality a somewhat\nlarger river; that Mr. Summerlee might be interested to know that with\nthe Orinoco, which communicated with it, some fifty thousand miles of\ncountry were opened up, and that in so vast a space it was not\nimpossible for one person to find what another had missed.\n\nMr. Summerlee declared, with an acid smile, that he fully appreciated\nthe difference between the Thames and the Amazon, which lay in the fact\nthat any assertion about the former could be tested, while about the\nlatter it could not.  He would be obliged if Professor Challenger would\ngive the latitude and the longitude of the country in which prehistoric\nanimals were to be found.\n\nProfessor Challenger replied that he reserved such information for good\nreasons of his own, but would be prepared to give it with proper\nprecautions to a committee chosen from the audience.  Would Mr.\nSummerlee serve on such a committee and test his story in person?\n\nMr. Summerlee:  \"Yes, I will.\"  (Great cheering.)\n\nProfessor Challenger:  \"Then I guarantee that I will place in your\nhands such material as will enable you to find your way.  It is only\nright, however, since Mr. Summerlee goes to check my statement that I\nshould have one or more with him who may check his.  I will not\ndisguise from you that there are difficulties and dangers.  Mr.\nSummerlee will need a younger colleague.  May I ask for volunteers?\"\n\nIt is thus that the great crisis of a man's life springs out at him.\nCould I have imagined when I entered that hall that I was about to\npledge myself to a wilder adventure than had ever come to me in my\ndreams?  But Gladys--was it not the very opportunity of which she\nspoke?  Gladys would have told me to go.  I had sprung to my feet.  I\nwas speaking, and yet I had prepared no words.  Tarp Henry, my\ncompanion, was plucking at my skirts and I heard him whispering, \"Sit\ndown, Malone! Don't make a public ass of yourself.\"  At the same time I\nwas aware that a tall, thin man, with dark gingery hair, a few seats in\nfront of me, was also upon his feet.  He glared back at me with hard\nangry eyes, but I refused to give way.\n\n\"I will go, Mr. Chairman,\" I kept repeating over and over again.\n\n\"Name!  Name!\" cried the audience.\n\n\"My name is Edward Dunn Malone.  I am the reporter of the Daily\nGazette.  I claim to be an absolutely unprejudiced witness.\"\n\n\"What is YOUR name, sir?\" the chairman asked of my tall rival.\n\n\"I am Lord John Roxton.  I have already been up the Amazon, I know all\nthe ground, and have special qualifications for this investigation.\"\n\n\"Lord John Roxton's reputation as a sportsman and a traveler is, of\ncourse, world-famous,\" said the chairman; \"at the same time it would\ncertainly be as well to have a member of the Press upon such an\nexpedition.\"\n\n\"Then I move,\" said Professor Challenger, \"that both these gentlemen be\nelected, as representatives of this meeting, to accompany Professor\nSummerlee upon his journey to investigate and to report upon the truth\nof my statements.\"\n\nAnd so, amid shouting and cheering, our fate was decided, and I found\nmyself borne away in the human current which swirled towards the door,\nwith my mind half stunned by the vast new project which had risen so\nsuddenly before it.  As I emerged from the hall I was conscious for a\nmoment of a rush of laughing students--down the pavement, and of an arm\nwielding a heavy umbrella, which rose and fell in the midst of them.\nThen, amid a mixture of groans and cheers, Professor Challenger's\nelectric brougham slid from the curb, and I found myself walking under\nthe silvery lights of Regent Street, full of thoughts of Gladys and of\nwonder as to my future.\n\nSuddenly there was a touch at my elbow.  I turned, and found myself\nlooking into the humorous, masterful eyes of the tall, thin man who had\nvolunteered to be my companion on this strange quest.\n\n\"Mr. Malone, I understand,\" said he.  \"We are to be companions--what?\nMy rooms are just over the road, in the Albany.  Perhaps you would have\nthe kindness to spare me half an hour, for there are one or two things\nthat I badly want to say to you.\"\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER VI\n\n                  \"I was the Flail of the Lord\"\n\nLord John Roxton and I turned down Vigo Street together and through the\ndingy portals of the famous aristocratic rookery.  At the end of a long\ndrab passage my new acquaintance pushed open a door and turned on an\nelectric switch.  A number of lamps shining through tinted shades\nbathed the whole great room before us in a ruddy radiance.  Standing in\nthe doorway and glancing round me, I had a general impression of\nextraordinary comfort and elegance combined with an atmosphere of\nmasculine virility.  Everywhere there were mingled the luxury of the\nwealthy man of taste and the careless untidiness of the bachelor.  Rich\nfurs and strange iridescent mats from some Oriental bazaar were\nscattered upon the floor.  Pictures and prints which even my\nunpractised eyes could recognize as being of great price and rarity\nhung thick upon the walls.  Sketches of boxers, of ballet-girls, and of\nracehorses alternated with a sensuous Fragonard, a martial Girardet,\nand a dreamy Turner.  But amid these varied ornaments there were\nscattered the trophies which brought back strongly to my recollection\nthe fact that Lord John Roxton was one of the great all-round sportsmen\nand athletes of his day.  A dark-blue oar crossed with a cherry-pink\none above his mantel-piece spoke of the old Oxonian and Leander man,\nwhile the foils and boxing-gloves above and below them were the tools\nof a man who had won supremacy with each.  Like a dado round the room\nwas the jutting line of splendid heavy game-heads, the best of their\nsort from every quarter of the world, with the rare white rhinoceros of\nthe Lado Enclave drooping its supercilious lip above them all.\n\nIn the center of the rich red carpet was a black and gold Louis Quinze\ntable, a lovely antique, now sacrilegiously desecrated with marks of\nglasses and the scars of cigar-stumps.  On it stood a silver tray of\nsmokables and a burnished spirit-stand, from which and an adjacent\nsiphon my silent host proceeded to charge two high glasses.  Having\nindicated an arm-chair to me and placed my refreshment near it, he\nhanded me a long, smooth Havana.  Then, seating himself opposite to me,\nhe looked at me long and fixedly with his strange, twinkling, reckless\neyes--eyes of a cold light blue, the color of a glacier lake.\n\nThrough the thin haze of my cigar-smoke I noted the details of a face\nwhich was already familiar to me from many photographs--the\nstrongly-curved nose, the hollow, worn cheeks, the dark, ruddy hair,\nthin at the top, the crisp, virile moustaches, the small, aggressive\ntuft upon his projecting chin.  Something there was of Napoleon III.,\nsomething of Don Quixote, and yet again something which was the essence\nof the English country gentleman, the keen, alert, open-air lover of\ndogs and of horses.  His skin was of a rich flower-pot red from sun and\nwind.  His eyebrows were tufted and overhanging, which gave those\nnaturally cold eyes an almost ferocious aspect, an impression which was\nincreased by his strong and furrowed brow.  In figure he was spare, but\nvery strongly built--indeed, he had often proved that there were few\nmen in England capable of such sustained exertions.  His height was a\nlittle over six feet, but he seemed shorter on account of a peculiar\nrounding of the shoulders.  Such was the famous Lord John Roxton as he\nsat opposite to me, biting hard upon his cigar and watching me steadily\nin a long and embarrassing silence.\n\n\"Well,\" said he, at last, \"we've gone and done it, young fellah my\nlad.\"  (This curious phrase he pronounced as if it were all one\nword--\"young-fellah-me-lad.\")  \"Yes, we've taken a jump, you an' me.  I\nsuppose, now, when you went into that room there was no such notion in\nyour head--what?\"\n\n\"No thought of it.\"\n\n\"The same here.  No thought of it.  And here we are, up to our necks in\nthe tureen.  Why, I've only been back three weeks from Uganda, and\ntaken a place in Scotland, and signed the lease and all.  Pretty goin's\non--what?  How does it hit you?\"\n\n\"Well, it is all in the main line of my business.  I am a journalist on\nthe Gazette.\"\n\n\"Of course--you said so when you took it on.  By the way, I've got a\nsmall job for you, if you'll help me.\"\n\n\"With pleasure.\"\n\n\"Don't mind takin' a risk, do you?\"\n\n\"What is the risk?\"\n\n\"Well, it's Ballinger--he's the risk.  You've heard of him?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Why, young fellah, where HAVE you lived?  Sir John Ballinger is the\nbest gentleman jock in the north country.  I could hold him on the flat\nat my best, but over jumps he's my master.  Well, it's an open secret\nthat when he's out of trainin' he drinks hard--strikin' an average, he\ncalls it.  He got delirium on Toosday, and has been ragin' like a devil\never since.  His room is above this.  The doctors say that it is all up\nwith the old dear unless some food is got into him, but as he lies in\nbed with a revolver on his coverlet, and swears he will put six of the\nbest through anyone that comes near him, there's been a bit of a strike\namong the serving-men.  He's a hard nail, is Jack, and a dead shot,\ntoo, but you can't leave a Grand National winner to die like\nthat--what?\"\n\n\"What do you mean to do, then?\" I asked.\n\n\"Well, my idea was that you and I could rush him.  He may be dozin',\nand at the worst he can only wing one of us, and the other should have\nhim.  If we can get his bolster-cover round his arms and then 'phone up\na stomach-pump, we'll give the old dear the supper of his life.\"\n\nIt was a rather desperate business to come suddenly into one's day's\nwork.  I don't think that I am a particularly brave man.  I have an\nIrish imagination which makes the unknown and the untried more terrible\nthan they are.  On the other hand, I was brought up with a horror of\ncowardice and with a terror of such a stigma.  I dare say that I could\nthrow myself over a precipice, like the Hun in the history books, if my\ncourage to do it were questioned, and yet it would surely be pride and\nfear, rather than courage, which would be my inspiration.  Therefore,\nalthough every nerve in my body shrank from the whisky-maddened figure\nwhich I pictured in the room above, I still answered, in as careless a\nvoice as I could command, that I was ready to go.  Some further remark\nof Lord Roxton's about the danger only made me irritable.\n\n\"Talking won't make it any better,\" said I. \"Come on.\"\n\nI rose from my chair and he from his.  Then with a little confidential\nchuckle of laughter, he patted me two or three times on the chest,\nfinally pushing me back into my chair.\n\n\"All right, sonny my lad--you'll do,\" said he.  I looked up in surprise.\n\n\"I saw after Jack Ballinger myself this mornin'.  He blew a hole in the\nskirt of my kimono, bless his shaky old hand, but we got a jacket on\nhim, and he's to be all right in a week.  I say, young fellah, I hope\nyou don't mind--what?  You see, between you an' me close-tiled, I look\non this South American business as a mighty serious thing, and if I\nhave a pal with me I want a man I can bank on.  So I sized you down,\nand I'm bound to say that you came well out of it.  You see, it's all\nup to you and me, for this old Summerlee man will want dry-nursin' from\nthe first.  By the way, are you by any chance the Malone who is\nexpected to get his Rugby cap for Ireland?\"\n\n\"A reserve, perhaps.\"\n\n\"I thought I remembered your face.  Why, I was there when you got that\ntry against Richmond--as fine a swervin' run as I saw the whole season.\nI never miss a Rugby match if I can help it, for it is the manliest\ngame we have left.  Well, I didn't ask you in here just to talk sport.\nWe've got to fix our business.  Here are the sailin's, on the first\npage of the Times.  There's a Booth boat for Para next Wednesday week,\nand if the Professor and you can work it, I think we should take\nit--what?  Very good, I'll fix it with him.  What about your outfit?\"\n\n\"My paper will see to that.\"\n\n\"Can you shoot?\"\n\n\"About average Territorial standard.\"\n\n\"Good Lord! as bad as that?  It's the last thing you young fellahs\nthink of learnin'.  You're all bees without stings, so far as lookin'\nafter the hive goes.  You'll look silly, some o' these days, when\nsomeone comes along an' sneaks the honey.  But you'll need to hold your\ngun straight in South America, for, unless our friend the Professor is\na madman or a liar, we may see some queer things before we get back.\nWhat gun have you?\"\n\nHe crossed to an oaken cupboard, and as he threw it open I caught a\nglimpse of glistening rows of parallel barrels, like the pipes of an\norgan.\n\n\"I'll see what I can spare you out of my own battery,\" said he.\n\nOne by one he took out a succession of beautiful rifles, opening and\nshutting them with a snap and a clang, and then patting them as he put\nthem back into the rack as tenderly as a mother would fondle her\nchildren.\n\n\"This is a Bland's .577 axite express,\" said he.  \"I got that big\nfellow with it.\"  He glanced up at the white rhinoceros.  \"Ten more\nyards, and he'd would have added me to HIS collection.\n\n         'On that conical bullet his one chance hangs,\n         'Tis the weak one's advantage fair.'\n\nHope you know your Gordon, for he's the poet of the horse and the gun\nand the man that handles both.  Now, here's a useful tool--.470,\ntelescopic sight, double ejector, point-blank up to three-fifty.\nThat's the rifle I used against the Peruvian slave-drivers three years\nago.  I was the flail of the Lord up in those parts, I may tell you,\nthough you won't find it in any Blue-book.  There are times, young\nfellah, when every one of us must make a stand for human right and\njustice, or you never feel clean again.  That's why I made a little war\non my own.  Declared it myself, waged it myself, ended it myself.  Each\nof those nicks is for a slave murderer--a good row of them--what?  That\nbig one is for Pedro Lopez, the king of them all, that I killed in a\nbackwater of the Putomayo River.  Now, here's something that would do\nfor you.\"  He took out a beautiful brown-and-silver rifle.  \"Well\nrubbered at the stock, sharply sighted, five cartridges to the clip.\nYou can trust your life to that.\"  He handed it to me and closed the\ndoor of his oak cabinet.\n\n\"By the way,\" he continued, coming back to his chair, \"what do you know\nof this Professor Challenger?\"\n\n\"I never saw him till to-day.\"\n\n\"Well, neither did I.  It's funny we should both sail under sealed\norders from a man we don't know.  He seemed an uppish old bird.  His\nbrothers of science don't seem too fond of him, either.  How came you\nto take an interest in the affair?\"\n\nI told him shortly my experiences of the morning, and he listened\nintently.  Then he drew out a map of South America and laid it on the\ntable.\n\n\"I believe every single word he said to you was the truth,\" said he,\nearnestly, \"and, mind you, I have something to go on when I speak like\nthat.  South America is a place I love, and I think, if you take it\nright through from Darien to Fuego, it's the grandest, richest, most\nwonderful bit of earth upon this planet.  People don't know it yet, and\ndon't realize what it may become.  I've been up an' down it from end to\nend, and had two dry seasons in those very parts, as I told you when I\nspoke of the war I made on the slave-dealers.  Well, when I was up\nthere I heard some yarns of the same kind--traditions of Indians and\nthe like, but with somethin' behind them, no doubt.  The more you knew\nof that country, young fellah, the more you would understand that\nanythin' was possible--ANYTHIN'!  There are just some narrow\nwater-lanes along which folk travel, and outside that it is all\ndarkness.  Now, down here in the Matto Grande\"--he swept his cigar over\na part of the map--\"or up in this corner where three countries meet,\nnothin' would surprise me.  As that chap said to-night, there are\nfifty-thousand miles of water-way runnin' through a forest that is very\nnear the size of Europe.  You and I could be as far away from each\nother as Scotland is from Constantinople, and yet each of us be in the\nsame great Brazilian forest.  Man has just made a track here and a\nscrape there in the maze.  Why, the river rises and falls the best part\nof forty feet, and half the country is a morass that you can't pass\nover.  Why shouldn't somethin' new and wonderful lie in such a country?\nAnd why shouldn't we be the men to find it out?  Besides,\" he added,\nhis queer, gaunt face shining with delight, \"there's a sportin' risk in\nevery mile of it.  I'm like an old golf-ball--I've had all the white\npaint knocked off me long ago.  Life can whack me about now, and it\ncan't leave a mark.  But a sportin' risk, young fellah, that's the salt\nof existence.  Then it's worth livin' again.  We're all gettin' a deal\ntoo soft and dull and comfy.  Give me the great waste lands and the\nwide spaces, with a gun in my fist and somethin' to look for that's\nworth findin'.  I've tried war and steeplechasin' and aeroplanes, but\nthis huntin' of beasts that look like a lobster-supper dream is a\nbrand-new sensation.\" He chuckled with glee at the prospect.\n\nPerhaps I have dwelt too long upon this new acquaintance, but he is to\nbe my comrade for many a day, and so I have tried to set him down as I\nfirst saw him, with his quaint personality and his queer little tricks\nof speech and of thought.  It was only the need of getting in the\naccount of my meeting which drew me at last from his company.  I left\nhim seated amid his pink radiance, oiling the lock of his favorite\nrifle, while he still chuckled to himself at the thought of the\nadventures which awaited us.  It was very clear to me that if dangers\nlay before us I could not in all England have found a cooler head or a\nbraver spirit with which to share them.\n\nThat night, wearied as I was after the wonderful happenings of the day,\nI sat late with McArdle, the news editor, explaining to him the whole\nsituation, which he thought important enough to bring next morning\nbefore the notice of Sir George Beaumont, the chief.  It was agreed\nthat I should write home full accounts of my adventures in the shape of\nsuccessive letters to McArdle, and that these should either be edited\nfor the Gazette as they arrived, or held back to be published later,\naccording to the wishes of Professor Challenger, since we could not yet\nknow what conditions he might attach to those directions which should\nguide us to the unknown land.  In response to a telephone inquiry, we\nreceived nothing more definite than a fulmination against the Press,\nending up with the remark that if we would notify our boat he would\nhand us any directions which he might think it proper to give us at the\nmoment of starting.  A second question from us failed to elicit any\nanswer at all, save a plaintive bleat from his wife to the effect that\nher husband was in a very violent temper already, and that she hoped we\nwould do nothing to make it worse.  A third attempt, later in the day,\nprovoked a terrific crash, and a subsequent message from the Central\nExchange that Professor Challenger's receiver had been shattered.\nAfter that we abandoned all attempt at communication.\n\nAnd now my patient readers, I can address you directly no longer.  From\nnow onwards (if, indeed, any continuation of this narrative should ever\nreach you) it can only be through the paper which I represent.  In the\nhands of the editor I leave this account of the events which have led\nup to one of the most remarkable expeditions of all time, so that if I\nnever return to England there shall be some record as to how the affair\ncame about.  I am writing these last lines in the saloon of the Booth\nliner Francisca, and they will go back by the pilot to the keeping of\nMr. McArdle.  Let me draw one last picture before I close the\nnotebook--a picture which is the last memory of the old country which I\nbear away with me.  It is a wet, foggy morning in the late spring; a\nthin, cold rain is falling.  Three shining mackintoshed figures are\nwalking down the quay, making for the gang-plank of the great liner\nfrom which the blue-peter is flying.  In front of them a porter pushes\na trolley piled high with trunks, wraps, and gun-cases.  Professor\nSummerlee, a long, melancholy figure, walks with dragging steps and\ndrooping head, as one who is already profoundly sorry for himself.\nLord John Roxton steps briskly, and his thin, eager face beams forth\nbetween his hunting-cap and his muffler.  As for myself, I am glad to\nhave got the bustling days of preparation and the pangs of leave-taking\nbehind me, and I have no doubt that I show it in my bearing.  Suddenly,\njust as we reach the vessel, there is a shout behind us.  It is\nProfessor Challenger, who had promised to see us off.  He runs after\nus, a puffing, red-faced, irascible figure.\n\n\"No thank you,\" says he; \"I should much prefer not to go aboard.  I\nhave only a few words to say to you, and they can very well be said\nwhere we are.  I beg you not to imagine that I am in any way indebted\nto you for making this journey.  I would have you to understand that it\nis a matter of perfect indifference to me, and I refuse to entertain\nthe most remote sense of personal obligation.  Truth is truth, and\nnothing which you can report can affect it in any way, though it may\nexcite the emotions and allay the curiosity of a number of very\nineffectual people.  My directions for your instruction and guidance\nare in this sealed envelope.  You will open it when you reach a town\nupon the Amazon which is called Manaos, but not until the date and hour\nwhich is marked upon the outside.  Have I made myself clear?  I leave\nthe strict observance of my conditions entirely to your honor.  No, Mr.\nMalone, I will place no restriction upon your correspondence, since the\nventilation of the facts is the object of your journey; but I demand\nthat you shall give no particulars as to your exact destination, and\nthat nothing be actually published until your return.  Good-bye, sir.\nYou have done something to mitigate my feelings for the loathsome\nprofession to which you unhappily belong.  Good-bye, Lord John.\nScience is, as I understand, a sealed book to you; but you may\ncongratulate yourself upon the hunting-field which awaits you.  You\nwill, no doubt, have the opportunity of describing in the Field how you\nbrought down the rocketing dimorphodon.  And good-bye to you also,\nProfessor Summerlee.  If you are still capable of self-improvement, of\nwhich I am frankly unconvinced, you will surely return to London a\nwiser man.\"\n\nSo he turned upon his heel, and a minute later from the deck I could\nsee his short, squat figure bobbing about in the distance as he made\nhis way back to his train.  Well, we are well down Channel now.\nThere's the last bell for letters, and it's good-bye to the pilot.\nWe'll be \"down, hull-down, on the old trail\" from now on.  God bless\nall we leave behind us, and send us safely back.\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER VII\n\n            \"To-morrow we Disappear into the Unknown\"\n\nI will not bore those whom this narrative may reach by an account of\nour luxurious voyage upon the Booth liner, nor will I tell of our\nweek's stay at Para (save that I should wish to acknowledge the great\nkindness of the Pereira da Pinta Company in helping us to get together\nour equipment).  I will also allude very briefly to our river journey,\nup a wide, slow-moving, clay-tinted stream, in a steamer which was\nlittle smaller than that which had carried us across the Atlantic.\nEventually we found ourselves through the narrows of Obidos and reached\nthe town of Manaos.  Here we were rescued from the limited attractions\nof the local inn by Mr. Shortman, the representative of the British and\nBrazilian Trading Company.  In his hospital Fazenda we spent our time\nuntil the day when we were empowered to open the letter of instructions\ngiven to us by Professor Challenger.  Before I reach the surprising\nevents of that date I would desire to give a clearer sketch of my\ncomrades in this enterprise, and of the associates whom we had already\ngathered together in South America.  I speak freely, and I leave the\nuse of my material to your own discretion, Mr. McArdle, since it is\nthrough your hands that this report must pass before it reaches the\nworld.\n\nThe scientific attainments of Professor Summerlee are too well known\nfor me to trouble to recapitulate them.  He is better equipped for a\nrough expedition of this sort than one would imagine at first sight.\nHis tall, gaunt, stringy figure is insensible to fatigue, and his dry,\nhalf-sarcastic, and often wholly unsympathetic manner is uninfluenced\nby any change in his surroundings.  Though in his sixty-sixth year, I\nhave never heard him express any dissatisfaction at the occasional\nhardships which we have had to encounter.  I had regarded his presence\nas an encumbrance to the expedition, but, as a matter of fact, I am now\nwell convinced that his power of endurance is as great as my own.  In\ntemper he is naturally acid and sceptical.  From the beginning he has\nnever concealed his belief that Professor Challenger is an absolute\nfraud, that we are all embarked upon an absurd wild-goose chase and\nthat we are likely to reap nothing but disappointment and danger in\nSouth America, and corresponding ridicule in England.  Such are the\nviews which, with much passionate distortion of his thin features and\nwagging of his thin, goat-like beard, he poured into our ears all the\nway from Southampton to Manaos.  Since landing from the boat he has\nobtained some consolation from the beauty and variety of the insect and\nbird life around him, for he is absolutely whole-hearted in his\ndevotion to science.  He spends his days flitting through the woods\nwith his shot-gun and his butterfly-net, and his evenings in mounting\nthe many specimens he has acquired.  Among his minor peculiarities are\nthat he is careless as to his attire, unclean in his person,\nexceedingly absent-minded in his habits, and addicted to smoking a\nshort briar pipe, which is seldom out of his mouth.  He has been upon\nseveral scientific expeditions in his youth (he was with Robertson in\nPapua), and the life of the camp and the canoe is nothing fresh to him.\n\nLord John Roxton has some points in common with Professor Summerlee,\nand others in which they are the very antithesis to each other.  He is\ntwenty years younger, but has something of the same spare, scraggy\nphysique.  As to his appearance, I have, as I recollect, described it\nin that portion of my narrative which I have left behind me in London.\nHe is exceedingly neat and prim in his ways, dresses always with great\ncare in white drill suits and high brown mosquito-boots, and shaves at\nleast once a day.  Like most men of action, he is laconic in speech,\nand sinks readily into his own thoughts, but he is always quick to\nanswer a question or join in a conversation, talking in a queer, jerky,\nhalf-humorous fashion.  His knowledge of the world, and very especially\nof South America, is surprising, and he has a whole-hearted belief in\nthe possibilities of our journey which is not to be dashed by the\nsneers of Professor Summerlee.  He has a gentle voice and a quiet\nmanner, but behind his twinkling blue eyes there lurks a capacity for\nfurious wrath and implacable resolution, the more dangerous because\nthey are held in leash.  He spoke little of his own exploits in Brazil\nand Peru, but it was a revelation to me to find the excitement which\nwas caused by his presence among the riverine natives, who looked upon\nhim as their champion and protector.  The exploits of the Red Chief, as\nthey called him, had become legends among them, but the real facts, as\nfar as I could learn them, were amazing enough.\n\nThese were that Lord John had found himself some years before in that\nno-man's-land which is formed by the half-defined frontiers between\nPeru, Brazil, and Columbia.  In this great district the wild rubber\ntree flourishes, and has become, as in the Congo, a curse to the\nnatives which can only be compared to their forced labor under the\nSpaniards upon the old silver mines of Darien.  A handful of villainous\nhalf-breeds dominated the country, armed such Indians as would support\nthem, and turned the rest into slaves, terrorizing them with the most\ninhuman tortures in order to force them to gather the india-rubber,\nwhich was then floated down the river to Para.  Lord John Roxton\nexpostulated on behalf of the wretched victims, and received nothing\nbut threats and insults for his pains.  He then formally declared war\nagainst Pedro Lopez, the leader of the slave-drivers, enrolled a band\nof runaway slaves in his service, armed them, and conducted a campaign,\nwhich ended by his killing with his own hands the notorious half-breed\nand breaking down the system which he represented.\n\nNo wonder that the ginger-headed man with the silky voice and the free\nand easy manners was now looked upon with deep interest upon the banks\nof the great South American river, though the feelings he inspired were\nnaturally mixed, since the gratitude of the natives was equaled by the\nresentment of those who desired to exploit them.  One useful result of\nhis former experiences was that he could talk fluently in the Lingoa\nGeral, which is the peculiar talk, one-third Portuguese and two-thirds\nIndian, which is current all over Brazil.\n\nI have said before that Lord John Roxton was a South Americomaniac.  He\ncould not speak of that great country without ardor, and this ardor was\ninfectious, for, ignorant as I was, he fixed my attention and\nstimulated my curiosity.  How I wish I could reproduce the glamour of\nhis discourses, the peculiar mixture of accurate knowledge and of racy\nimagination which gave them their fascination, until even the\nProfessor's cynical and sceptical smile would gradually vanish from his\nthin face as he listened.  He would tell the history of the mighty\nriver so rapidly explored (for some of the first conquerors of Peru\nactually crossed the entire continent upon its waters), and yet so\nunknown in regard to all that lay behind its ever-changing banks.\n\n\"What is there?\" he would cry, pointing to the north.  \"Wood and marsh\nand unpenetrated jungle.  Who knows what it may shelter?  And there to\nthe south?  A wilderness of swampy forest, where no white man has ever\nbeen.  The unknown is up against us on every side.  Outside the narrow\nlines of the rivers what does anyone know?  Who will say what is\npossible in such a country?  Why should old man Challenger not be\nright?\"  At which direct defiance the stubborn sneer would reappear\nupon Professor Summerlee's face, and he would sit, shaking his sardonic\nhead in unsympathetic silence, behind the cloud of his briar-root pipe.\n\n\nSo much, for the moment, for my two white companions, whose characters\nand limitations will be further exposed, as surely as my own, as this\nnarrative proceeds.  But already we have enrolled certain retainers who\nmay play no small part in what is to come.  The first is a gigantic\nnegro named Zambo, who is a black Hercules, as willing as any horse,\nand about as intelligent.  Him we enlisted at Para, on the\nrecommendation of the steamship company, on whose vessels he had\nlearned to speak a halting English.\n\nIt was at Para also that we engaged Gomez and Manuel, two half-breeds\nfrom up the river, just come down with a cargo of redwood.  They were\nswarthy fellows, bearded and fierce, as active and wiry as panthers.\nBoth of them had spent their lives in those upper waters of the Amazon\nwhich we were about to explore, and it was this recommendation which\nhad caused Lord John to engage them.  One of them, Gomez, had the\nfurther advantage that he could speak excellent English.  These men\nwere willing to act as our personal servants, to cook, to row, or to\nmake themselves useful in any way at a payment of fifteen dollars a\nmonth.  Besides these, we had engaged three Mojo Indians from Bolivia,\nwho are the most skilful at fishing and boat work of all the river\ntribes.  The chief of these we called Mojo, after his tribe, and the\nothers are known as Jose and Fernando.  Three white men, then, two\nhalf-breeds, one negro, and three Indians made up the personnel of the\nlittle expedition which lay waiting for its instructions at Manaos\nbefore starting upon its singular quest.\n\nAt last, after a weary week, the day had come and the hour.  I ask you\nto picture the shaded sitting-room of the Fazenda St.  Ignatio, two\nmiles inland from the town of Manaos.  Outside lay the yellow, brassy\nglare of the sunshine, with the shadows of the palm trees as black and\ndefinite as the trees themselves.  The air was calm, full of the\neternal hum of insects, a tropical chorus of many octaves, from the\ndeep drone of the bee to the high, keen pipe of the mosquito.  Beyond\nthe veranda was a small cleared garden, bounded with cactus hedges and\nadorned with clumps of flowering shrubs, round which the great blue\nbutterflies and the tiny humming-birds fluttered and darted in\ncrescents of sparkling light.  Within we were seated round the cane\ntable, on which lay a sealed envelope.  Inscribed upon it, in the\njagged handwriting of Professor Challenger, were the words:--\n\n\n\"Instructions to Lord John Roxton and party.  To be opened at Manaos\nupon July 15th, at 12 o'clock precisely.\"\n\n\nLord John had placed his watch upon the table beside him.\n\n\"We have seven more minutes,\" said he.  \"The old dear is very precise.\"\n\nProfessor Summerlee gave an acid smile as he picked up the envelope in\nhis gaunt hand.\n\n\"What can it possibly matter whether we open it now or in seven\nminutes?\" said he.  \"It is all part and parcel of the same system of\nquackery and nonsense, for which I regret to say that the writer is\nnotorious.\"\n\n\"Oh, come, we must play the game accordin' to rules,\" said Lord John.\n\"It's old man Challenger's show and we are here by his good will, so it\nwould be rotten bad form if we didn't follow his instructions to the\nletter.\"\n\n\"A pretty business it is!\" cried the Professor, bitterly.  \"It struck\nme as preposterous in London, but I'm bound to say that it seems even\nmore so upon closer acquaintance.  I don't know what is inside this\nenvelope, but, unless it is something pretty definite, I shall be much\ntempted to take the next down-river boat and catch the Bolivia at Para.\nAfter all, I have some more responsible work in the world than to run\nabout disproving the assertions of a lunatic.  Now, Roxton, surely it\nis time.\"\n\n\"Time it is,\" said Lord John.  \"You can blow the whistle.\" He took up\nthe envelope and cut it with his penknife.  From it he drew a folded\nsheet of paper.  This he carefully opened out and flattened on the\ntable.  It was a blank sheet.  He turned it over.  Again it was blank.\nWe looked at each other in a bewildered silence, which was broken by a\ndiscordant burst of derisive laughter from Professor Summerlee.\n\n\"It is an open admission,\" he cried.  \"What more do you want?  The\nfellow is a self-confessed humbug.  We have only to return home and\nreport him as the brazen imposter that he is.\"\n\n\"Invisible ink!\" I suggested.\n\n\"I don't think!\" said Lord Roxton, holding the paper to the light.\n\"No, young fellah my lad, there is no use deceiving yourself.  I'll go\nbail for it that nothing has ever been written upon this paper.\"\n\n\"May I come in?\" boomed a voice from the veranda.\n\nThe shadow of a squat figure had stolen across the patch of sunlight.\nThat voice!  That monstrous breadth of shoulder!  We sprang to our feet\nwith a gasp of astonishment as Challenger, in a round, boyish straw-hat\nwith a colored ribbon--Challenger, with his hands in his jacket-pockets\nand his canvas shoes daintily pointing as he walked--appeared in the\nopen space before us.  He threw back his head, and there he stood in\nthe golden glow with all his old Assyrian luxuriance of beard, all his\nnative insolence of drooping eyelids and intolerant eyes.\n\n\"I fear,\" said he, taking out his watch, \"that I am a few minutes too\nlate.  When I gave you this envelope I must confess that I had never\nintended that you should open it, for it had been my fixed intention to\nbe with you before the hour.  The unfortunate delay can be apportioned\nbetween a blundering pilot and an intrusive sandbank.  I fear that it\nhas given my colleague, Professor Summerlee, occasion to blaspheme.\"\n\n\"I am bound to say, sir,\" said Lord John, with some sternness of voice,\n\"that your turning up is a considerable relief to us, for our mission\nseemed to have come to a premature end.  Even now I can't for the life\nof me understand why you should have worked it in so extraordinary a\nmanner.\"\n\nInstead of answering, Professor Challenger entered, shook hands with\nmyself and Lord John, bowed with ponderous insolence to Professor\nSummerlee, and sank back into a basket-chair, which creaked and swayed\nbeneath his weight.\n\n\"Is all ready for your journey?\" he asked.\n\n\"We can start to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Then so you shall.  You need no chart of directions now, since you\nwill have the inestimable advantage of my own guidance.  From the first\nI had determined that I would myself preside over your investigation.\nThe most elaborate charts would, as you will readily admit, be a poor\nsubstitute for my own intelligence and advice.  As to the small ruse\nwhich I played upon you in the matter of the envelope, it is clear\nthat, had I told you all my intentions, I should have been forced to\nresist unwelcome pressure to travel out with you.\"\n\n\"Not from me, sir!\" exclaimed Professor Summerlee, heartily.  \"So long\nas there was another ship upon the Atlantic.\"\n\nChallenger waved him away with his great hairy hand.\n\n\"Your common sense will, I am sure, sustain my objection and realize\nthat it was better that I should direct my own movements and appear\nonly at the exact moment when my presence was needed.  That moment has\nnow arrived.  You are in safe hands.  You will not now fail to reach\nyour destination.  From henceforth I take command of this expedition,\nand I must ask you to complete your preparations to-night, so that we\nmay be able to make an early start in the morning.  My time is of\nvalue, and the same thing may be said, no doubt, in a lesser degree of\nyour own.  I propose, therefore, that we push on as rapidly as\npossible, until I have demonstrated what you have come to see.\"\n\nLord John Roxton has chartered a large steam launch, the Esmeralda,\nwhich was to carry us up the river.  So far as climate goes, it was\nimmaterial what time we chose for our expedition, as the temperature\nranges from seventy-five to ninety degrees both summer and winter, with\nno appreciable difference in heat.  In moisture, however, it is\notherwise; from December to May is the period of the rains, and during\nthis time the river slowly rises until it attains a height of nearly\nforty feet above its low-water mark.  It floods the banks, extends in\ngreat lagoons over a monstrous waste of country, and forms a huge\ndistrict, called locally the Gapo, which is for the most part too\nmarshy for foot-travel and too shallow for boating.  About June the\nwaters begin to fall, and are at their lowest at October or November.\nThus our expedition was at the time of the dry season, when the great\nriver and its tributaries were more or less in a normal condition.\n\nThe current of the river is a slight one, the drop being not greater\nthan eight inches in a mile.  No stream could be more convenient for\nnavigation, since the prevailing wind is south-east, and sailing boats\nmay make a continuous progress to the Peruvian frontier, dropping down\nagain with the current.  In our own case the excellent engines of the\nEsmeralda could disregard the sluggish flow of the stream, and we made\nas rapid progress as if we were navigating a stagnant lake.  For three\ndays we steamed north-westwards up a stream which even here, a thousand\nmiles from its mouth, was still so enormous that from its center the\ntwo banks were mere shadows upon the distant skyline.  On the fourth\nday after leaving Manaos we turned into a tributary which at its mouth\nwas little smaller than the main stream.  It narrowed rapidly, however,\nand after two more days' steaming we reached an Indian village, where\nthe Professor insisted that we should land, and that the Esmeralda\nshould be sent back to Manaos.  We should soon come upon rapids, he\nexplained, which would make its further use impossible.  He added\nprivately that we were now approaching the door of the unknown country,\nand that the fewer whom we took into our confidence the better it would\nbe.  To this end also he made each of us give our word of honor that we\nwould publish or say nothing which would give any exact clue as to the\nwhereabouts of our travels, while the servants were all solemnly sworn\nto the same effect.  It is for this reason that I am compelled to be\nvague in my narrative, and I would warn my readers that in any map or\ndiagram which I may give the relation of places to each other may be\ncorrect, but the points of the compass are carefully confused, so that\nin no way can it be taken as an actual guide to the country.  Professor\nChallenger's reasons for secrecy may be valid or not, but we had no\nchoice but to adopt them, for he was prepared to abandon the whole\nexpedition rather than modify the conditions upon which he would guide\nus.\n\nIt was August 2nd when we snapped our last link with the outer world by\nbidding farewell to the Esmeralda.  Since then four days have passed,\nduring which we have engaged two large canoes from the Indians, made of\nso light a material (skins over a bamboo framework) that we should be\nable to carry them round any obstacle.  These we have loaded with all\nour effects, and have engaged two additional Indians to help us in the\nnavigation.  I understand that they are the very two--Ataca and Ipetu\nby name--who accompanied Professor Challenger upon his previous\njourney.  They appeared to be terrified at the prospect of repeating\nit, but the chief has patriarchal powers in these countries, and if the\nbargain is good in his eyes the clansman has little choice in the\nmatter.\n\nSo to-morrow we disappear into the unknown.  This account I am\ntransmitting down the river by canoe, and it may be our last word to\nthose who are interested in our fate.  I have, according to our\narrangement, addressed it to you, my dear Mr. McArdle, and I leave it\nto your discretion to delete, alter, or do what you like with it.  From\nthe assurance of Professor Challenger's manner--and in spite of the\ncontinued scepticism of Professor Summerlee--I have no doubt that our\nleader will make good his statement, and that we are really on the eve\nof some most remarkable experiences.\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER VIII\n\n             \"The Outlying Pickets of the New World\"\n\nOur friends at home may well rejoice with us, for we are at our goal,\nand up to a point, at least, we have shown that the statement of\nProfessor Challenger can be verified.  We have not, it is true,\nascended the plateau, but it lies before us, and even Professor\nSummerlee is in a more chastened mood.  Not that he will for an instant\nadmit that his rival could be right, but he is less persistent in his\nincessant objections, and has sunk for the most part into an observant\nsilence.  I must hark back, however, and continue my narrative from\nwhere I dropped it.  We are sending home one of our local Indians who\nis injured, and I am committing this letter to his charge, with\nconsiderable doubts in my mind as to whether it will ever come to hand.\n\nWhen I wrote last we were about to leave the Indian village where we\nhad been deposited by the Esmeralda.  I have to begin my report by bad\nnews, for the first serious personal trouble (I pass over the incessant\nbickerings between the Professors) occurred this evening, and might\nhave had a tragic ending.  I have spoken of our English-speaking\nhalf-breed, Gomez--a fine worker and a willing fellow, but afflicted, I\nfancy, with the vice of curiosity, which is common enough among such\nmen.  On the last evening he seems to have hid himself near the hut in\nwhich we were discussing our plans, and, being observed by our huge\nnegro Zambo, who is as faithful as a dog and has the hatred which all\nhis race bear to the half-breeds, he was dragged out and carried into\nour presence.  Gomez whipped out his knife, however, and but for the\nhuge strength of his captor, which enabled him to disarm him with one\nhand, he would certainly have stabbed him.  The matter has ended in\nreprimands, the opponents have been compelled to shake hands, and there\nis every hope that all will be well.  As to the feuds of the two\nlearned men, they are continuous and bitter.  It must be admitted that\nChallenger is provocative in the last degree, but Summerlee has an acid\ntongue, which makes matters worse.  Last night Challenger said that he\nnever cared to walk on the Thames Embankment and look up the river, as\nit was always sad to see one's own eventual goal.  He is convinced, of\ncourse, that he is destined for Westminster Abbey.  Summerlee rejoined,\nhowever, with a sour smile, by saying that he understood that Millbank\nPrison had been pulled down.  Challenger's conceit is too colossal to\nallow him to be really annoyed.  He only smiled in his beard and\nrepeated \"Really!  Really!\" in the pitying tone one would use to a\nchild.  Indeed, they are children both--the one wizened and\ncantankerous, the other formidable and overbearing, yet each with a\nbrain which has put him in the front rank of his scientific age.\nBrain, character, soul--only as one sees more of life does one\nunderstand how distinct is each.\n\nThe very next day we did actually make our start upon this remarkable\nexpedition.  We found that all our possessions fitted very easily into\nthe two canoes, and we divided our personnel, six in each, taking the\nobvious precaution in the interests of peace of putting one Professor\ninto each canoe.  Personally, I was with Challenger, who was in a\nbeatific humor, moving about as one in a silent ecstasy and beaming\nbenevolence from every feature.  I have had some experience of him in\nother moods, however, and shall be the less surprised when the\nthunderstorms suddenly come up amidst the sunshine.  If it is\nimpossible to be at your ease, it is equally impossible to be dull in\nhis company, for one is always in a state of half-tremulous doubt as to\nwhat sudden turn his formidable temper may take.\n\nFor two days we made our way up a good-sized river some hundreds of\nyards broad, and dark in color, but transparent, so that one could\nusually see the bottom.  The affluents of the Amazon are, half of them,\nof this nature, while the other half are whitish and opaque, the\ndifference depending upon the class of country through which they have\nflowed.  The dark indicate vegetable decay, while the others point to\nclayey soil.  Twice we came across rapids, and in each case made a\nportage of half a mile or so to avoid them.  The woods on either side\nwere primeval, which are more easily penetrated than woods of the\nsecond growth, and we had no great difficulty in carrying our canoes\nthrough them.  How shall I ever forget the solemn mystery of it?  The\nheight of the trees and the thickness of the boles exceeded anything\nwhich I in my town-bred life could have imagined, shooting upwards in\nmagnificent columns until, at an enormous distance above our heads, we\ncould dimly discern the spot where they threw out their side-branches\ninto Gothic upward curves which coalesced to form one great matted roof\nof verdure, through which only an occasional golden ray of sunshine\nshot downwards to trace a thin dazzling line of light amidst the\nmajestic obscurity.  As we walked noiselessly amid the thick, soft\ncarpet of decaying vegetation the hush fell upon our souls which comes\nupon us in the twilight of the Abbey, and even Professor Challenger's\nfull-chested notes sank into a whisper.  Alone, I should have been\nignorant of the names of these giant growths, but our men of science\npointed out the cedars, the great silk cotton trees, and the redwood\ntrees, with all that profusion of various plants which has made this\ncontinent the chief supplier to the human race of those gifts of Nature\nwhich depend upon the vegetable world, while it is the most backward in\nthose products which come from animal life.  Vivid orchids and\nwonderful colored lichens smoldered upon the swarthy tree-trunks and\nwhere a wandering shaft of light fell full upon the golden allamanda,\nthe scarlet star-clusters of the tacsonia, or the rich deep blue of\nipomaea, the effect was as a dream of fairyland.  In these great wastes\nof forest, life, which abhors darkness, struggles ever upwards to the\nlight.  Every plant, even the smaller ones, curls and writhes to the\ngreen surface, twining itself round its stronger and taller brethren in\nthe effort.  Climbing plants are monstrous and luxuriant, but others\nwhich have never been known to climb elsewhere learn the art as an\nescape from that somber shadow, so that the common nettle, the jasmine,\nand even the jacitara palm tree can be seen circling the stems of the\ncedars and striving to reach their crowns.  Of animal life there was no\nmovement amid the majestic vaulted aisles which stretched from us as we\nwalked, but a constant movement far above our heads told of that\nmultitudinous world of snake and monkey, bird and sloth, which lived in\nthe sunshine, and looked down in wonder at our tiny, dark, stumbling\nfigures in the obscure depths immeasurably below them.  At dawn and at\nsunset the howler monkeys screamed together and the parrakeets broke\ninto shrill chatter, but during the hot hours of the day only the full\ndrone of insects, like the beat of a distant surf, filled the ear,\nwhile nothing moved amid the solemn vistas of stupendous trunks, fading\naway into the darkness which held us in.  Once some bandy-legged,\nlurching creature, an ant-eater or a bear, scuttled clumsily amid the\nshadows.  It was the only sign of earth life which I saw in this great\nAmazonian forest.\n\nAnd yet there were indications that even human life itself was not far\nfrom us in those mysterious recesses.  On the third day out we were\naware of a singular deep throbbing in the air, rhythmic and solemn,\ncoming and going fitfully throughout the morning.  The two boats were\npaddling within a few yards of each other when first we heard it, and\nour Indians remained motionless, as if they had been turned to bronze,\nlistening intently with expressions of terror upon their faces.\n\n\"What is it, then?\" I asked.\n\n\"Drums,\" said Lord John, carelessly; \"war drums.  I have heard them\nbefore.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, war drums,\" said Gomez, the half-breed.  \"Wild Indians,\nbravos, not mansos; they watch us every mile of the way; kill us if\nthey can.\"\n\n\"How can they watch us?\" I asked, gazing into the dark, motionless void.\n\nThe half-breed shrugged his broad shoulders.\n\n\"The Indians know.  They have their own way.  They watch us.  They talk\nthe drum talk to each other.  Kill us if they can.\"\n\nBy the afternoon of that day--my pocket diary shows me that it was\nTuesday, August 18th--at least six or seven drums were throbbing from\nvarious points.  Sometimes they beat quickly, sometimes slowly,\nsometimes in obvious question and answer, one far to the east breaking\nout in a high staccato rattle, and being followed after a pause by a\ndeep roll from the north.  There was something indescribably\nnerve-shaking and menacing in that constant mutter, which seemed to\nshape itself into the very syllables of the half-breed, endlessly\nrepeated, \"We will kill you if we can.  We will kill you if we can.\"\nNo one ever moved in the silent woods.  All the peace and soothing of\nquiet Nature lay in that dark curtain of vegetation, but away from\nbehind there came ever the one message from our fellow-man.  \"We will\nkill you if we can,\" said the men in the east.  \"We will kill you if we\ncan,\" said the men in the north.\n\nAll day the drums rumbled and whispered, while their menace reflected\nitself in the faces of our colored companions.  Even the hardy,\nswaggering half-breed seemed cowed.  I learned, however, that day once\nfor all that both Summerlee and Challenger possessed that highest type\nof bravery, the bravery of the scientific mind.  Theirs was the spirit\nwhich upheld Darwin among the gauchos of the Argentine or Wallace among\nthe head-hunters of Malaya.  It is decreed by a merciful Nature that\nthe human brain cannot think of two things simultaneously, so that if\nit be steeped in curiosity as to science it has no room for merely\npersonal considerations.  All day amid that incessant and mysterious\nmenace our two Professors watched every bird upon the wing, and every\nshrub upon the bank, with many a sharp wordy contention, when the snarl\nof Summerlee came quick upon the deep growl of Challenger, but with no\nmore sense of danger and no more reference to drum-beating Indians than\nif they were seated together in the smoking-room of the Royal Society's\nClub in St.  James's Street.  Once only did they condescend to discuss\nthem.\n\n\"Miranha or Amajuaca cannibals,\" said Challenger, jerking his thumb\ntowards the reverberating wood.\n\n\"No doubt, sir,\" Summerlee answered.  \"Like all such tribes, I shall\nexpect to find them of poly-synthetic speech and of Mongolian type.\"\n\n\"Polysynthetic certainly,\" said Challenger, indulgently.  \"I am not\naware that any other type of language exists in this continent, and I\nhave notes of more than a hundred.  The Mongolian theory I regard with\ndeep suspicion.\"\n\n\"I should have thought that even a limited knowledge of comparative\nanatomy would have helped to verify it,\" said Summerlee, bitterly.\n\nChallenger thrust out his aggressive chin until he was all beard and\nhat-rim.  \"No doubt, sir, a limited knowledge would have that effect.\nWhen one's knowledge is exhaustive, one comes to other conclusions.\"\nThey glared at each other in mutual defiance, while all round rose the\ndistant whisper, \"We will kill you--we will kill you if we can.\"\n\nThat night we moored our canoes with heavy stones for anchors in the\ncenter of the stream, and made every preparation for a possible attack.\nNothing came, however, and with the dawn we pushed upon our way, the\ndrum-beating dying out behind us.  About three o'clock in the afternoon\nwe came to a very steep rapid, more than a mile long--the very one in\nwhich Professor Challenger had suffered disaster upon his first\njourney.  I confess that the sight of it consoled me, for it was really\nthe first direct corroboration, slight as it was, of the truth of his\nstory.  The Indians carried first our canoes and then our stores\nthrough the brushwood, which is very thick at this point, while we four\nwhites, our rifles on our shoulders, walked between them and any danger\ncoming from the woods.  Before evening we had successfully passed the\nrapids, and made our way some ten miles above them, where we anchored\nfor the night.  At this point I reckoned that we had come not less than\na hundred miles up the tributary from the main stream.\n\nIt was in the early forenoon of the next day that we made the great\ndeparture.  Since dawn Professor Challenger had been acutely uneasy,\ncontinually scanning each bank of the river.  Suddenly he gave an\nexclamation of satisfaction and pointed to a single tree, which\nprojected at a peculiar angle over the side of the stream.\n\n\"What do you make of that?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is surely an Assai palm,\" said Summerlee.\n\n\"Exactly.  It was an Assai palm which I took for my landmark.  The\nsecret opening is half a mile onwards upon the other side of the river.\nThere is no break in the trees.  That is the wonder and the mystery of\nit.  There where you see light-green rushes instead of dark-green\nundergrowth, there between the great cotton woods, that is my private\ngate into the unknown.  Push through, and you will understand.\"\n\nIt was indeed a wonderful place.  Having reached the spot marked by a\nline of light-green rushes, we poled out two canoes through them for\nsome hundreds of yards, and eventually emerged into a placid and\nshallow stream, running clear and transparent over a sandy bottom.  It\nmay have been twenty yards across, and was banked in on each side by\nmost luxuriant vegetation.  No one who had not observed that for a\nshort distance reeds had taken the place of shrubs, could possibly have\nguessed the existence of such a stream or dreamed of the fairyland\nbeyond.\n\nFor a fairyland it was--the most wonderful that the imagination of man\ncould conceive.  The thick vegetation met overhead, interlacing into a\nnatural pergola, and through this tunnel of verdure in a golden\ntwilight flowed the green, pellucid river, beautiful in itself, but\nmarvelous from the strange tints thrown by the vivid light from above\nfiltered and tempered in its fall.  Clear as crystal, motionless as a\nsheet of glass, green as the edge of an iceberg, it stretched in front\nof us under its leafy archway, every stroke of our paddles sending a\nthousand ripples across its shining surface.  It was a fitting avenue\nto a land of wonders.  All sign of the Indians had passed away, but\nanimal life was more frequent, and the tameness of the creatures showed\nthat they knew nothing of the hunter.  Fuzzy little black-velvet\nmonkeys, with snow-white teeth and gleaming, mocking eyes, chattered at\nus as we passed.  With a dull, heavy splash an occasional cayman\nplunged in from the bank.  Once a dark, clumsy tapir stared at us from\na gap in the bushes, and then lumbered away through the forest; once,\ntoo, the yellow, sinuous form of a great puma whisked amid the\nbrushwood, and its green, baleful eyes glared hatred at us over its\ntawny shoulder.  Bird life was abundant, especially the wading birds,\nstork, heron, and ibis gathering in little groups, blue, scarlet, and\nwhite, upon every log which jutted from the bank, while beneath us the\ncrystal water was alive with fish of every shape and color.\n\nFor three days we made our way up this tunnel of hazy green sunshine.\nOn the longer stretches one could hardly tell as one looked ahead where\nthe distant green water ended and the distant green archway began.  The\ndeep peace of this strange waterway was unbroken by any sign of man.\n\n\"No Indian here.  Too much afraid.  Curupuri,\" said Gomez.\n\n\"Curupuri is the spirit of the woods,\" Lord John explained.  \"It's a\nname for any kind of devil.  The poor beggars think that there is\nsomething fearsome in this direction, and therefore they avoid it.\"\n\nOn the third day it became evident that our journey in the canoes could\nnot last much longer, for the stream was rapidly growing more shallow.\nTwice in as many hours we stuck upon the bottom.  Finally we pulled the\nboats up among the brushwood and spent the night on the bank of the\nriver.  In the morning Lord John and I made our way for a couple of\nmiles through the forest, keeping parallel with the stream; but as it\ngrew ever shallower we returned and reported, what Professor Challenger\nhad already suspected, that we had reached the highest point to which\nthe canoes could be brought.  We drew them up, therefore, and concealed\nthem among the bushes, blazing a tree with our axes, so that we should\nfind them again.  Then we distributed the various burdens among\nus--guns, ammunition, food, a tent, blankets, and the rest--and,\nshouldering our packages, we set forth upon the more laborious stage of\nour journey.\n\nAn unfortunate quarrel between our pepper-pots marked the outset of our\nnew stage.  Challenger had from the moment of joining us issued\ndirections to the whole party, much to the evident discontent of\nSummerlee.  Now, upon his assigning some duty to his fellow-Professor\n(it was only the carrying of an aneroid barometer), the matter suddenly\ncame to a head.\n\n\"May I ask, sir,\" said Summerlee, with vicious calm, \"in what capacity\nyou take it upon yourself to issue these orders?\"\n\nChallenger glared and bristled.\n\n\"I do it, Professor Summerlee, as leader of this expedition.\"\n\n\"I am compelled to tell you, sir, that I do not recognize you in that\ncapacity.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" Challenger bowed with unwieldy sarcasm.  \"Perhaps you would\ndefine my exact position.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.  You are a man whose veracity is upon trial, and this\ncommittee is here to try it.  You walk, sir, with your judges.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" said Challenger, seating himself on the side of one of the\ncanoes.  \"In that case you will, of course, go on your way, and I will\nfollow at my leisure.  If I am not the leader you cannot expect me to\nlead.\"\n\nThank heaven that there were two sane men--Lord John Roxton and\nmyself--to prevent the petulance and folly of our learned Professors\nfrom sending us back empty-handed to London.  Such arguing and pleading\nand explaining before we could get them mollified!  Then at last\nSummerlee, with his sneer and his pipe, would move forwards, and\nChallenger would come rolling and grumbling after.  By some good\nfortune we discovered about this time that both our savants had the\nvery poorest opinion of Dr. Illingworth of Edinburgh.  Thenceforward\nthat was our one safety, and every strained situation was relieved by\nour introducing the name of the Scotch zoologist, when both our\nProfessors would form a temporary alliance and friendship in their\ndetestation and abuse of this common rival.\n\nAdvancing in single file along the bank of the stream, we soon found\nthat it narrowed down to a mere brook, and finally that it lost itself\nin a great green morass of sponge-like mosses, into which we sank up to\nour knees.  The place was horribly haunted by clouds of mosquitoes and\nevery form of flying pest, so we were glad to find solid ground again\nand to make a circuit among the trees, which enabled us to outflank\nthis pestilent morass, which droned like an organ in the distance, so\nloud was it with insect life.\n\nOn the second day after leaving our canoes we found that the whole\ncharacter of the country changed.  Our road was persistently upwards,\nand as we ascended the woods became thinner and lost their tropical\nluxuriance.  The huge trees of the alluvial Amazonian plain gave place\nto the Phoenix and coco palms, growing in scattered clumps, with thick\nbrushwood between.  In the damper hollows the Mauritia palms threw out\ntheir graceful drooping fronds.  We traveled entirely by compass, and\nonce or twice there were differences of opinion between Challenger and\nthe two Indians, when, to quote the Professor's indignant words, the\nwhole party agreed to \"trust the fallacious instincts of undeveloped\nsavages rather than the highest product of modern European culture.\"\nThat we were justified in doing so was shown upon the third day, when\nChallenger admitted that he recognized several landmarks of his former\njourney, and in one spot we actually came upon four fire-blackened\nstones, which must have marked a camping-place.\n\nThe road still ascended, and we crossed a rock-studded slope which took\ntwo days to traverse.  The vegetation had again changed, and only the\nvegetable ivory tree remained, with a great profusion of wonderful\norchids, among which I learned to recognize the rare Nuttonia\nVexillaria and the glorious pink and scarlet blossoms of Cattleya and\nodontoglossum.  Occasional brooks with pebbly bottoms and fern-draped\nbanks gurgled down the shallow gorges in the hill, and offered good\ncamping-grounds every evening on the banks of some rock-studded pool,\nwhere swarms of little blue-backed fish, about the size and shape of\nEnglish trout, gave us a delicious supper.\n\nOn the ninth day after leaving the canoes, having done, as I reckon,\nabout a hundred and twenty miles, we began to emerge from the trees,\nwhich had grown smaller until they were mere shrubs.  Their place was\ntaken by an immense wilderness of bamboo, which grew so thickly that we\ncould only penetrate it by cutting a pathway with the machetes and\nbillhooks of the Indians.  It took us a long day, traveling from seven\nin the morning till eight at night, with only two breaks of one hour\neach, to get through this obstacle.  Anything more monotonous and\nwearying could not be imagined, for, even at the most open places, I\ncould not see more than ten or twelve yards, while usually my vision\nwas limited to the back of Lord John's cotton jacket in front of me,\nand to the yellow wall within a foot of me on either side.  From above\ncame one thin knife-edge of sunshine, and fifteen feet over our heads\none saw the tops of the reeds swaying against the deep blue sky.  I do\nnot know what kind of creatures inhabit such a thicket, but several\ntimes we heard the plunging of large, heavy animals quite close to us.\nFrom their sounds Lord John judged them to be some form of wild cattle.\nJust as night fell we cleared the belt of bamboos, and at once formed\nour camp, exhausted by the interminable day.\n\nEarly next morning we were again afoot, and found that the character of\nthe country had changed once again.  Behind us was the wall of bamboo,\nas definite as if it marked the course of a river.  In front was an\nopen plain, sloping slightly upwards and dotted with clumps of\ntree-ferns, the whole curving before us until it ended in a long,\nwhale-backed ridge.  This we reached about midday, only to find a\nshallow valley beyond, rising once again into a gentle incline which\nled to a low, rounded sky-line.  It was here, while we crossed the\nfirst of these hills, that an incident occurred which may or may not\nhave been important.\n\nProfessor Challenger, who with the two local Indians was in the van of\nthe party, stopped suddenly and pointed excitedly to the right.  As he\ndid so we saw, at the distance of a mile or so, something which\nappeared to be a huge gray bird flap slowly up from the ground and skim\nsmoothly off, flying very low and straight, until it was lost among the\ntree-ferns.\n\n\"Did you see it?\" cried Challenger, in exultation.  \"Summerlee, did you\nsee it?\"\n\nHis colleague was staring at the spot where the creature had\ndisappeared.\n\n\"What do you claim that it was?\" he asked.\n\n\"To the best of my belief, a pterodactyl.\"\n\nSummerlee burst into derisive laughter \"A pter-fiddlestick!\" said he.\n\"It was a stork, if ever I saw one.\"\n\nChallenger was too furious to speak.  He simply swung his pack upon his\nback and continued upon his march.  Lord John came abreast of me,\nhowever, and his face was more grave than was his wont.  He had his\nZeiss glasses in his hand.\n\n\"I focused it before it got over the trees,\" said he. \"I won't\nundertake to say what it was, but I'll risk my reputation as a\nsportsman that it wasn't any bird that ever I clapped eyes on in my\nlife.\"\n\nSo there the matter stands.  Are we really just at the edge of the\nunknown, encountering the outlying pickets of this lost world of which\nour leader speaks?  I give you the incident as it occurred and you will\nknow as much as I do.  It stands alone, for we saw nothing more which\ncould be called remarkable.\n\nAnd now, my readers, if ever I have any, I have brought you up the\nbroad river, and through the screen of rushes, and down the green\ntunnel, and up the long slope of palm trees, and through the bamboo\nbrake, and across the plain of tree-ferns.  At last our destination lay\nin full sight of us.  When we had crossed the second ridge we saw\nbefore us an irregular, palm-studded plain, and then the line of high\nred cliffs which I have seen in the picture.  There it lies, even as I\nwrite, and there can be no question that it is the same.  At the\nnearest point it is about seven miles from our present camp, and it\ncurves away, stretching as far as I can see.  Challenger struts about\nlike a prize peacock, and Summerlee is silent, but still sceptical.\nAnother day should bring some of our doubts to an end.  Meanwhile, as\nJose, whose arm was pierced by a broken bamboo, insists upon returning,\nI send this letter back in his charge, and only hope that it may\neventually come to hand.  I will write again as the occasion serves.  I\nhave enclosed with this a rough chart of our journey, which may have\nthe effect of making the account rather easier to understand.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER IX\n\n                  \"Who could have Foreseen it?\"\n\nA dreadful thing has happened to us.  Who could have foreseen it?  I\ncannot foresee any end to our troubles.  It may be that we are\ncondemned to spend our whole lives in this strange, inaccessible place.\nI am still so confused that I can hardly think clearly of the facts of\nthe present or of the chances of the future.  To my astounded senses\nthe one seems most terrible and the other as black as night.\n\nNo men have ever found themselves in a worse position; nor is there any\nuse in disclosing to you our exact geographical situation and asking\nour friends for a relief party.  Even if they could send one, our fate\nwill in all human probability be decided long before it could arrive in\nSouth America.\n\nWe are, in truth, as far from any human aid as if we were in the moon.\nIf we are to win through, it is only our own qualities which can save\nus.  I have as companions three remarkable men, men of great\nbrain-power and of unshaken courage.  There lies our one and only hope.\nIt is only when I look upon the untroubled faces of my comrades that I\nsee some glimmer through the darkness.  Outwardly I trust that I appear\nas unconcerned as they.  Inwardly I am filled with apprehension.\n\nLet me give you, with as much detail as I can, the sequence of events\nwhich have led us to this catastrophe.\n\nWhen I finished my last letter I stated that we were within seven miles\nfrom an enormous line of ruddy cliffs, which encircled, beyond all\ndoubt, the plateau of which Professor Challenger spoke.  Their height,\nas we approached them, seemed to me in some places to be greater than\nhe had stated--running up in parts to at least a thousand feet--and\nthey were curiously striated, in a manner which is, I believe,\ncharacteristic of basaltic upheavals.  Something of the sort is to be\nseen in Salisbury Crags at Edinburgh.  The summit showed every sign of\na luxuriant vegetation, with bushes near the edge, and farther back\nmany high trees.  There was no indication of any life that we could see.\n\nThat night we pitched our camp immediately under the cliff--a most wild\nand desolate spot.  The crags above us were not merely perpendicular,\nbut curved outwards at the top, so that ascent was out of the question.\nClose to us was the high thin pinnacle of rock which I believe I\nmentioned earlier in this narrative.  It is like a broad red church\nspire, the top of it being level with the plateau, but a great chasm\ngaping between.  On the summit of it there grew one high tree.  Both\npinnacle and cliff were comparatively low--some five or six hundred\nfeet, I should think.\n\n\"It was on that,\" said Professor Challenger, pointing to this tree,\n\"that the pterodactyl was perched.  I climbed half-way up the rock\nbefore I shot him.  I am inclined to think that a good mountaineer like\nmyself could ascend the rock to the top, though he would, of course, be\nno nearer to the plateau when he had done so.\"\n\nAs Challenger spoke of his pterodactyl I glanced at Professor\nSummerlee, and for the first time I seemed to see some signs of a\ndawning credulity and repentance.  There was no sneer upon his thin\nlips, but, on the contrary, a gray, drawn look of excitement and\namazement.  Challenger saw it, too, and reveled in the first taste of\nvictory.\n\n\"Of course,\" said he,  with his clumsy and ponderous sarcasm,\n\"Professor Summerlee will understand that when I speak of a pterodactyl\nI mean a stork--only it is the kind of stork which has no feathers, a\nleathery skin, membranous wings, and teeth in its jaws.\"  He grinned\nand blinked and bowed until his colleague turned and walked away.\n\nIn the morning, after a frugal breakfast of coffee and manioc--we had\nto be economical of our stores--we held a council of war as to the best\nmethod of ascending to the plateau above us.\n\nChallenger presided with a solemnity as if he were the Lord Chief\nJustice on the Bench.  Picture him seated upon a rock, his absurd\nboyish straw hat tilted on the back of his head, his supercilious eyes\ndominating us from under his drooping lids, his great black beard\nwagging as he slowly defined our present situation and our future\nmovements.\n\nBeneath him you might have seen the three of us--myself, sunburnt,\nyoung, and vigorous after our open-air tramp; Summerlee, solemn but\nstill critical, behind his eternal pipe; Lord John, as keen as a\nrazor-edge, with his supple, alert figure leaning upon his rifle, and\nhis eager eyes fixed eagerly upon the speaker.  Behind us were grouped\nthe two swarthy half-breeds and the little knot of Indians, while in\nfront and above us towered those huge, ruddy ribs of rocks which kept\nus from our goal.\n\n\"I need not say,\" said our leader, \"that on the occasion of my last\nvisit I exhausted every means of climbing the cliff, and where I failed\nI do not think that anyone else is likely to succeed, for I am\nsomething of a mountaineer.  I had none of the appliances of a\nrock-climber with me, but I have taken the precaution to bring them\nnow.  With their aid I am positive I could climb that detached pinnacle\nto the summit; but so long as the main cliff overhangs, it is vain to\nattempt ascending that.  I was hurried upon my last visit by the\napproach of the rainy season and by the exhaustion of my supplies.\nThese considerations limited my time, and I can only claim that I have\nsurveyed about six miles of the cliff to the east of us, finding no\npossible way up.  What, then, shall we now do?\"\n\n\"There seems to be only one reasonable course,\" said Professor\nSummerlee.  \"If you have explored the east, we should travel along the\nbase of the cliff to the west, and seek for a practicable point for our\nascent.\"\n\n\"That's it,\" said Lord John.  \"The odds are that this plateau is of no\ngreat size, and we shall travel round it until we either find an easy\nway up it, or come back to the point from which we started.\"\n\n\"I have already explained to our young friend here,\" said Challenger\n(he has a way of alluding to me as if I were a school child ten years\nold), \"that it is quite impossible that there should be an easy way up\nanywhere, for the simple reason that if there were the summit would not\nbe isolated, and those conditions would not obtain which have effected\nso singular an interference with the general laws of survival.  Yet I\nadmit that there may very well be places where an expert human climber\nmay reach the summit, and yet a cumbrous and heavy animal be unable to\ndescend.  It is certain that there is a point where an ascent is\npossible.\"\n\n\"How do you know that, sir?\" asked Summerlee, sharply.\n\n\"Because my predecessor, the American Maple White, actually made such\nan ascent.  How otherwise could he have seen the monster which he\nsketched in his notebook?\"\n\n\"There you reason somewhat ahead of the proved facts,\" said the\nstubborn Summerlee.  \"I admit your plateau, because I have seen it; but\nI have not as yet satisfied myself that it contains any form of life\nwhatever.\"\n\n\"What you admit, sir, or what you do not admit, is really of\ninconceivably small importance.  I am glad to perceive that the plateau\nitself has actually obtruded itself upon your intelligence.\" He glanced\nup at it, and then, to our amazement, he sprang from his rock, and,\nseizing Summerlee by the neck, he tilted his face into the air.  \"Now\nsir!\" he shouted, hoarse with excitement.  \"Do I help you to realize\nthat the plateau contains some animal life?\"\n\nI have said that a thick fringe of green overhung the edge of the\ncliff.  Out of this there had emerged a black, glistening object.  As\nit came slowly forth and overhung the chasm, we saw that it was a very\nlarge snake with a peculiar flat, spade-like head.  It wavered and\nquivered above us for a minute, the morning sun gleaming upon its\nsleek, sinuous coils.  Then it slowly drew inwards and disappeared.\n\nSummerlee had been so interested that he had stood unresisting while\nChallenger tilted his head into the air.  Now he shook his colleague\noff and came back to his dignity.\n\n\"I should be glad, Professor Challenger,\" said he, \"if you could see\nyour way to make any remarks which may occur to you without seizing me\nby the chin.  Even the appearance of a very ordinary rock python does\nnot appear to justify such a liberty.\"\n\n\"But there is life upon the plateau all the same,\" his colleague\nreplied in triumph.  \"And now, having demonstrated this important\nconclusion so that it is clear to anyone, however prejudiced or obtuse,\nI am of opinion that we cannot do better than break up our camp and\ntravel to westward until we find some means of ascent.\"\n\nThe ground at the foot of the cliff was rocky and broken so that the\ngoing was slow and difficult.  Suddenly we came, however, upon\nsomething which cheered our hearts.  It was the site of an old\nencampment, with several empty Chicago meat tins, a bottle labeled\n\"Brandy,\" a broken tin-opener, and a quantity of other travelers'\ndebris.  A crumpled, disintegrated newspaper revealed itself as the\nChicago Democrat, though the date had been obliterated.\n\n\"Not mine,\" said Challenger.  \"It must be Maple White's.\"\n\nLord John had been gazing curiously at a great tree-fern which\novershadowed the encampment.  \"I say, look at this,\" said he.  \"I\nbelieve it is meant for a sign-post.\"\n\nA slip of hard wood had been nailed to the tree in such a way as to\npoint to the westward.\n\n\"Most certainly a sign-post,\" said Challenger.  \"What else?  Finding\nhimself upon a dangerous errand, our pioneer has left this sign so that\nany party which follows him may know the way he has taken.  Perhaps we\nshall come upon some other indications as we proceed.\"\n\nWe did indeed, but they were of a terrible and most unexpected nature.\nImmediately beneath the cliff there grew a considerable patch of high\nbamboo, like that which we had traversed in our journey.  Many of these\nstems were twenty feet high, with sharp, strong tops, so that even as\nthey stood they made formidable spears.  We were passing along the edge\nof this cover when my eye was caught by the gleam of something white\nwithin it.  Thrusting in my head between the stems, I found myself\ngazing at a fleshless skull.  The whole skeleton was there, but the\nskull had detached itself and lay some feet nearer to the open.\n\nWith a few blows from the machetes of our Indians we cleared the spot\nand were able to study the details of this old tragedy.  Only a few\nshreds of clothes could still be distinguished, but there were the\nremains of boots upon the bony feet, and it was very clear that the\ndead man was a European.  A gold watch by Hudson, of New York, and a\nchain which held a stylographic pen, lay among the bones.  There was\nalso a silver cigarette-case, with \"J. C., from A. E. S.,\" upon the\nlid.  The state of the metal seemed to show that the catastrophe had\noccurred no great time before.\n\n\"Who can he be?\" asked Lord John.  \"Poor devil! every bone in his body\nseems to be broken.\"\n\n\"And the bamboo grows through his smashed ribs,\" said Summerlee.  \"It\nis a fast-growing plant, but it is surely inconceivable that this body\ncould have been here while the canes grew to be twenty feet in length.\"\n\n\"As to the man's identity,\" said Professor Challenger, \"I have no doubt\nwhatever upon that point.  As I made my way up the river before I\nreached you at the fazenda I instituted very particular inquiries about\nMaple White.  At Para they knew nothing.  Fortunately, I had a definite\nclew, for there was a particular picture in his sketch-book which\nshowed him taking lunch with a certain ecclesiastic at Rosario.  This\npriest I was able to find, and though he proved a very argumentative\nfellow, who took it absurdly amiss that I should point out to him the\ncorrosive effect which modern science must have upon his beliefs, he\nnone the less gave me some positive information.  Maple White passed\nRosario four years ago, or two years before I saw his dead body.  He\nwas not alone at the time, but there was a friend, an American named\nJames Colver, who remained in the boat and did not meet this\necclesiastic.  I think, therefore, that there can be no doubt that we\nare now looking upon the remains of this James Colver.\"\n\n\"Nor,\" said Lord John, \"is there much doubt as to how he met his death.\nHe has fallen or been chucked from the top, and so been impaled.  How\nelse could he come by his broken bones, and how could he have been\nstuck through by these canes with their points so high above our heads?\"\n\nA hush came over us as we stood round these shattered remains and\nrealized the truth of Lord John Roxton's words.  The beetling head of\nthe cliff projected over the cane-brake.  Undoubtedly he had fallen\nfrom above.  But had he fallen?  Had it been an accident?  Or--already\nominous and terrible possibilities began to form round that unknown\nland.\n\nWe moved off in silence, and continued to coast round the line of\ncliffs, which were as even and unbroken as some of those monstrous\nAntarctic ice-fields which I have seen depicted as stretching from\nhorizon to horizon and towering high above the mast-heads of the\nexploring vessel.\n\nIn five miles we saw no rift or break.  And then suddenly we perceived\nsomething which filled us with new hope.  In a hollow of the rock,\nprotected from rain, there was drawn a rough arrow in chalk, pointing\nstill to the westwards.\n\n\"Maple White again,\" said Professor Challenger.  \"He had some\npresentiment that worthy footsteps would follow close behind him.\"\n\n\"He had chalk, then?\"\n\n\"A box of colored chalks was among the effects I found in his knapsack.\nI remember that the white one was worn to a stump.\"\n\n\"That is certainly good evidence,\" said Summerlee.  \"We can only accept\nhis guidance and follow on to the westward.\"\n\nWe had proceeded some five more miles when again we saw a white arrow\nupon the rocks.  It was at a point where the face of the cliff was for\nthe first time split into a narrow cleft.  Inside the cleft was a\nsecond guidance mark, which pointed right up it with the tip somewhat\nelevated, as if the spot indicated were above the level of the ground.\n\nIt was a solemn place, for the walls were so gigantic and the slit of\nblue sky so narrow and so obscured by a double fringe of verdure, that\nonly a dim and shadowy light penetrated to the bottom.  We had had no\nfood for many hours, and were very weary with the stony and irregular\njourney, but our nerves were too strung to allow us to halt.  We\nordered the camp to be pitched, however, and, leaving the Indians to\narrange it, we four, with the two half-breeds, proceeded up the narrow\ngorge.\n\nIt was not more than forty feet across at the mouth, but it rapidly\nclosed until it ended in an acute angle, too straight and smooth for an\nascent.  Certainly it was not this which our pioneer had attempted to\nindicate.  We made our way back--the whole gorge was not more than a\nquarter of a mile deep--and then suddenly the quick eyes of Lord John\nfell upon what we were seeking.  High up above our heads, amid the dark\nshadows, there was one circle of deeper gloom.  Surely it could only be\nthe opening of a cave.\n\nThe base of the cliff was heaped with loose stones at the spot, and it\nwas not difficult to clamber up.  When we reached it, all doubt was\nremoved.  Not only was it an opening into the rock, but on the side of\nit there was marked once again the sign of the arrow.  Here was the\npoint, and this the means by which Maple White and his ill-fated\ncomrade had made their ascent.\n\nWe were too excited to return to the camp, but must make our first\nexploration at once.  Lord John had an electric torch in his knapsack,\nand this had to serve us as light.  He advanced, throwing his little\nclear circlet of yellow radiance before him, while in single file we\nfollowed at his heels.\n\nThe cave had evidently been water-worn, the sides being smooth and the\nfloor covered with rounded stones.  It was of such a size that a single\nman could just fit through by stooping.  For fifty yards it ran almost\nstraight into the rock, and then it ascended at an angle of forty-five.\nPresently this incline became even steeper, and we found ourselves\nclimbing upon hands and knees among loose rubble which slid from\nbeneath us.  Suddenly an exclamation broke from Lord Roxton.\n\n\"It's blocked!\" said he.\n\nClustering behind him we saw in the yellow field of light a wall of\nbroken basalt which extended to the ceiling.\n\n\"The roof has fallen in!\"\n\nIn vain we dragged out some of the pieces.  The only effect was that\nthe larger ones became detached and threatened to roll down the\ngradient and crush us.  It was evident that the obstacle was far beyond\nany efforts which we could make to remove it.  The road by which Maple\nWhite had ascended was no longer available.\n\nToo much cast down to speak, we stumbled down the dark tunnel and made\nour way back to the camp.\n\nOne incident occurred, however, before we left the gorge, which is of\nimportance in view of what came afterwards.\n\nWe had gathered in a little group at the bottom of the chasm, some\nforty feet beneath the mouth of the cave, when a huge rock rolled\nsuddenly downwards--and shot past us with tremendous force.  It was the\nnarrowest escape for one or all of us.  We could not ourselves see\nwhence the rock had come, but our half-breed servants, who were still\nat the opening of the cave, said that it had flown past them, and must\ntherefore have fallen from the summit.  Looking upwards, we could see\nno sign of movement above us amidst the green jungle which topped the\ncliff.  There could be little doubt, however, that the stone was aimed\nat us, so the incident surely pointed to humanity--and malevolent\nhumanity--upon the plateau.\n\nWe withdrew hurriedly from the chasm, our minds full of this new\ndevelopment and its bearing upon our plans.  The situation was\ndifficult enough before, but if the obstructions of Nature were\nincreased by the deliberate opposition of man, then our case was indeed\na hopeless one.  And yet, as we looked up at that beautiful fringe of\nverdure only a few hundreds of feet above our heads, there was not one\nof us who could conceive the idea of returning to London until we had\nexplored it to its depths.\n\nOn discussing the situation, we determined that our best course was to\ncontinue to coast round the plateau in the hope of finding some other\nmeans of reaching the top.  The line of cliffs, which had decreased\nconsiderably in height, had already begun to trend from west to north,\nand if we could take this as representing the arc of a circle, the\nwhole circumference could not be very great.  At the worst, then, we\nshould be back in a few days at our starting-point.\n\nWe made a march that day which totaled some two-and-twenty miles,\nwithout any change in our prospects.  I may mention that our aneroid\nshows us that in the continual incline which we have ascended since we\nabandoned our canoes we have risen to no less than three thousand feet\nabove sea-level.  Hence there is a considerable change both in the\ntemperature and in the vegetation.  We have shaken off some of that\nhorrible insect life which is the bane of tropical travel.  A few palms\nstill survive, and many tree-ferns, but the Amazonian trees have been\nall left behind.  It was pleasant to see the convolvulus, the\npassion-flower, and the begonia, all reminding me of home, here among\nthese inhospitable rocks.  There was a red begonia just the same color\nas one that is kept in a pot in the window of a certain villa in\nStreatham--but I am drifting into private reminiscence.\n\nThat night--I am still speaking of the first day of our\ncircumnavigation of the plateau--a great experience awaited us, and one\nwhich for ever set at rest any doubt which we could have had as to the\nwonders so near us.\n\nYou will realize as you read it, my dear Mr. McArdle, and possibly for\nthe first time that the paper has not sent me on a wild-goose chase,\nand that there is inconceivably fine copy waiting for the world\nwhenever we have the Professor's leave to make use of it.  I shall not\ndare to publish these articles unless I can bring back my proofs to\nEngland, or I shall be hailed as the journalistic Munchausen of all\ntime.  I have no doubt that you feel the same way yourself, and that\nyou would not care to stake the whole credit of the Gazette upon this\nadventure until we can meet the chorus of criticism and scepticism\nwhich such articles must of necessity elicit.  So this wonderful\nincident, which would make such a headline for the old paper, must\nstill wait its turn in the editorial drawer.\n\nAnd yet it was all over in a flash, and there was no sequel to it, save\nin our own convictions.\n\nWhat occurred was this.  Lord John had shot an ajouti--which is a\nsmall, pig-like animal--and, half of it having been given to the\nIndians, we were cooking the other half upon our fire.  There is a\nchill in the  air after dark, and we had all drawn close to the blaze.\nThe night was moonless, but there were some stars, and one could see\nfor a little distance across the plain.  Well, suddenly out of the\ndarkness, out of the night, there swooped something with a swish like\nan aeroplane.  The whole group of us were covered for an instant by a\ncanopy of leathery wings, and I had a momentary vision of a long,\nsnake-like neck, a fierce, red, greedy eye, and a great snapping beak,\nfilled, to my amazement, with little, gleaming teeth.  The next instant\nit was gone--and so was our dinner.  A huge black shadow, twenty feet\nacross, skimmed up into the air; for an instant the monster wings\nblotted out the stars, and then it vanished over the brow of the cliff\nabove us.  We all sat in amazed silence round the fire, like the heroes\nof Virgil when the Harpies came down upon them.  It was Summerlee who\nwas the first to speak.\n\n\"Professor Challenger,\" said he, in a solemn voice, which quavered with\nemotion, \"I owe you an apology.  Sir, I am very much in the wrong, and\nI beg that you will forget what is past.\"\n\nIt was handsomely said, and the two men for the first time shook hands.\nSo much we have gained by this clear vision of our first pterodactyl.\nIt was worth a stolen supper to bring two such men together.\n\nBut if prehistoric life existed upon the plateau it was not\nsuperabundant, for we had no further glimpse of it during the next\nthree days.  During this time we traversed a barren and forbidding\ncountry, which alternated between stony desert and desolate marshes\nfull of many wild-fowl, upon the north and east of the cliffs.  From\nthat direction the place is really inaccessible, and, were it not for a\nhardish ledge which runs at the very base of the precipice, we should\nhave had to turn back.  Many times we were up to our waists in the\nslime and blubber of an old, semi-tropical swamp.  To make matters\nworse, the place seemed to be a favorite breeding-place of the Jaracaca\nsnake, the most venomous and aggressive in South America.  Again and\nagain these horrible creatures came writhing and springing towards us\nacross the surface of this putrid bog, and it was only by keeping our\nshot-guns for ever ready that we could feel safe from them.  One\nfunnel-shaped depression in the morass, of a livid green in color from\nsome lichen which festered in it, will always remain as a nightmare\nmemory in my mind.  It seems to have been a special nest of these\nvermins, and the slopes were alive with them, all writhing in our\ndirection, for it is a peculiarity of the Jaracaca that he will always\nattack man at first sight.  There were too many for us to shoot, so we\nfairly took to our heels and ran until we were exhausted.  I shall\nalways remember as we looked back how far behind we could see the heads\nand necks of our horrible pursuers rising and falling amid the reeds.\nJaracaca Swamp we named it in the map which we are constructing.\n\nThe cliffs upon the farther side had lost their ruddy tint, being\nchocolate-brown in color; the vegetation was more scattered along the\ntop of them, and they had sunk to three or four hundred feet in height,\nbut in no place did we find any point where they could be ascended.  If\nanything, they were more impossible than at the first point where we\nhad met them.  Their absolute steepness is indicated in the photograph\nwhich I took over the stony desert.\n\n\"Surely,\" said I, as we discussed the situation, \"the rain must find\nits way down somehow.  There are bound to be water-channels in the\nrocks.\"\n\n\"Our young friend has glimpses of lucidity,\" said Professor Challenger,\npatting me upon the shoulder.\n\n\"The rain must go somewhere,\" I repeated.\n\n\"He keeps a firm grip upon actuality.  The only drawback is that we\nhave conclusively proved by ocular demonstration that there are no\nwater channels down the rocks.\"\n\n\"Where, then, does it go?\" I persisted.\n\n\"I think it may be fairly assumed that if it does not come outwards it\nmust run inwards.\"\n\n\"Then there is a lake in the center.\"\n\n\"So I should suppose.\"\n\n\"It is more than likely that the lake may be an old crater,\" said\nSummerlee.  \"The whole formation is, of course, highly volcanic.  But,\nhowever that may be, I should expect to find the surface of the plateau\nslope inwards with a considerable sheet of water in the center, which\nmay drain off, by some subterranean channel, into the marshes of the\nJaracaca Swamp.\"\n\n\"Or evaporation might preserve an equilibrium,\" remarked Challenger,\nand the two learned men wandered off into one of their usual scientific\narguments, which were as comprehensible as Chinese to the layman.\n\nOn the sixth day we completed our first circuit of the cliffs, and\nfound ourselves back at the first camp, beside the isolated pinnacle of\nrock.  We were a disconsolate party, for nothing could have been more\nminute than our investigation, and it was absolutely certain that there\nwas no single point where the most active human being could possibly\nhope to scale the cliff.  The place which Maple White's chalk-marks had\nindicated as his own means of access was now entirely impassable.\n\nWhat were we to do now?  Our stores of provisions, supplemented by our\nguns, were holding out well, but the day must come when they would need\nreplenishment.  In a couple of months the rains might be expected, and\nwe should be washed out of our camp.  The rock was harder than marble,\nand any attempt at cutting a path for so great a height was more than\nour time or resources would admit.  No wonder that we looked gloomily\nat each other that night, and sought our blankets with hardly a word\nexchanged.  I remember that as I dropped off to sleep my last\nrecollection was that Challenger was squatting, like a monstrous\nbull-frog, by the fire, his huge head in his hands, sunk apparently in\nthe deepest thought, and entirely oblivious to the good-night which I\nwished him.\n\nBut it was a very different Challenger who greeted us in the morning--a\nChallenger with contentment and self-congratulation shining from his\nwhole person.  He faced us as we assembled for breakfast with a\ndeprecating false modesty in his eyes, as who should say, \"I know that\nI deserve all that you can say, but I pray you to spare my blushes by\nnot saying it.\"  His beard bristled exultantly, his chest was thrown\nout, and his hand was thrust into the front of his jacket.  So, in his\nfancy, may he see himself sometimes, gracing the vacant pedestal in\nTrafalgar Square, and adding one more to the horrors of the London\nstreets.\n\n\"Eureka!\" he cried, his teeth shining through his beard.  \"Gentlemen,\nyou may congratulate me and we may congratulate each other.  The\nproblem is solved.\"\n\n\"You have found a way up?\"\n\n\"I venture to think so.\"\n\n\"And where?\"\n\nFor answer he pointed to the spire-like pinnacle upon our right.\n\nOur faces--or mine, at least--fell as we surveyed it.  That it could be\nclimbed we had our companion's assurance.  But a horrible abyss lay\nbetween it and the plateau.\n\n\"We can never get across,\" I gasped.\n\n\"We can at least all reach the summit,\" said he.  \"When we are up I may\nbe able to show you that the resources of an inventive mind are not yet\nexhausted.\"\n\nAfter breakfast we unpacked the bundle in which our leader had brought\nhis climbing accessories.  From it he took a coil of the strongest and\nlightest rope, a hundred and fifty feet in length, with climbing irons,\nclamps, and other devices.  Lord John was an experienced mountaineer,\nand Summerlee had done some rough climbing at various times, so that I\nwas really the novice at rock-work of the party; but my strength and\nactivity may have made up for my want of experience.\n\nIt was not in reality a very stiff task, though there were moments\nwhich made my hair bristle upon my head.  The first half was perfectly\neasy, but from there upwards it became continually steeper until, for\nthe last fifty feet, we were literally clinging with our fingers and\ntoes to tiny ledges and crevices in the rock.  I could not have\naccomplished it, nor could Summerlee, if Challenger had not gained the\nsummit (it was extraordinary to see such activity in so unwieldy a\ncreature) and there fixed the rope round the trunk of the considerable\ntree which grew there.  With this as our support, we were soon able to\nscramble up the jagged wall until we found ourselves upon the small\ngrassy platform, some twenty-five feet each way, which formed the\nsummit.\n\nThe first impression which I received when I had recovered my breath\nwas of the extraordinary view over the country which we had traversed.\nThe whole Brazilian plain seemed to lie beneath us, extending away and\naway until it ended in dim blue mists upon the farthest sky-line.  In\nthe foreground was the long slope, strewn with rocks and dotted with\ntree-ferns; farther off in the middle distance, looking over the\nsaddle-back hill, I could just see the yellow and green mass of bamboos\nthrough which we had passed; and then, gradually, the vegetation\nincreased until it formed the huge forest which extended as far as the\neyes could reach, and for a good two thousand miles beyond.\n\nI was still drinking in this wonderful panorama when the heavy hand of\nthe Professor fell upon my shoulder.\n\n\"This way, my young friend,\" said he; \"vestigia nulla retrorsum.  Never\nlook rearwards, but always to our glorious goal.\"\n\nThe level of the plateau, when I turned, was exactly that on which we\nstood, and the green bank of bushes, with occasional trees, was so near\nthat it was difficult to realize how inaccessible it remained.  At a\nrough guess the gulf was forty feet across, but, so far as I could see,\nit might as well have been forty miles.  I placed one arm round the\ntrunk of the tree and leaned over the abyss.  Far down were the small\ndark figures of our servants, looking up at us.  The wall was\nabsolutely precipitous, as was that which faced me.\n\n\"This is indeed curious,\" said the creaking voice of Professor\nSummerlee.\n\nI turned, and found that he was examining with great interest the tree\nto which I clung.  That smooth bark and those small, ribbed leaves\nseemed familiar to my eyes.  \"Why,\" I cried, \"it's a beech!\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" said Summerlee.  \"A fellow-countryman in a far land.\"\n\n\"Not only a fellow-countryman, my good sir,\" said Challenger, \"but\nalso, if I may be allowed to enlarge your simile, an ally of the first\nvalue.  This beech tree will be our saviour.\"\n\n\"By George!\" cried Lord John, \"a bridge!\"\n\n\"Exactly, my friends, a bridge!  It is not for nothing that I expended\nan hour last night in focusing my mind upon the situation.  I have some\nrecollection of once remarking to our young friend here that G. E. C.\nis at his best when his back is to the wall.  Last night you will admit\nthat all our backs were to the wall.  But where will-power and\nintellect go together, there is always a way out.  A drawbridge had to\nbe found which could be dropped across the abyss.  Behold it!\"\n\nIt was certainly a brilliant idea.  The tree was a good sixty feet in\nheight, and if it only fell the right way it would easily cross the\nchasm.  Challenger had slung the camp axe over his shoulder when he\nascended.  Now he handed it to me.\n\n\"Our young friend has the thews and sinews,\" said he.  \"I think he will\nbe the most useful at this task.  I must beg, however, that you will\nkindly refrain from thinking for yourself, and that you will do exactly\nwhat you are told.\"\n\nUnder his direction I cut such gashes in the sides of the trees as\nwould ensure that it should fall as we desired.  It had already a\nstrong, natural tilt in the direction of the plateau, so that the\nmatter was not difficult.  Finally I set to work in earnest upon the\ntrunk, taking turn and turn with Lord John.  In a little over an hour\nthere was a loud crack, the tree swayed forward, and then crashed over,\nburying its branches among the bushes on the farther side.  The severed\ntrunk rolled to the very edge of our platform, and for one terrible\nsecond we all thought it was over.  It balanced itself, however, a few\ninches from the edge, and there was our bridge to the unknown.\n\nAll of us, without a word, shook hands with Professor Challenger, who\nraised his straw hat and bowed deeply to each in turn.\n\n\"I claim the honor,\" said he, \"to be the first to cross to the unknown\nland--a fitting subject, no doubt, for some future historical painting.\"\n\nHe had approached the bridge when Lord John laid his hand upon his coat.\n\n\"My dear chap,\" said he, \"I really cannot allow it.\"\n\n\"Cannot allow it, sir!\"  The head went back and the beard forward.\n\n\"When it is a matter of science, don't you know, I follow your lead\nbecause you are by way of bein' a man of science.  But it's up to you\nto follow me when you come into my department.\"\n\n\"Your department, sir?\"\n\n\"We all have our professions, and soldierin' is mine.  We are,\naccordin' to my ideas, invadin' a new country, which may or may not be\nchock-full of enemies of sorts.  To barge blindly into it for want of a\nlittle common sense and patience isn't my notion of management.\"\n\nThe remonstrance was too reasonable to be disregarded.  Challenger\ntossed his head and shrugged his heavy shoulders.\n\n\"Well, sir, what do you propose?\"\n\n\"For all I know there may be a tribe of cannibals waitin' for\nlunch-time among those very bushes,\" said Lord John, looking across the\nbridge.  \"It's better to learn wisdom before you get into a\ncookin'-pot; so we will content ourselves with hopin' that there is no\ntrouble waitin' for us, and at the same time we will act as if there\nwere.  Malone and I will go down again, therefore, and we will fetch up\nthe four rifles, together with Gomez and the other.  One man can then\ngo across and the rest will cover him with guns, until he sees that it\nis safe for the whole crowd to come along.\"\n\nChallenger sat down upon the cut stump and groaned his impatience; but\nSummerlee and I were of one mind that Lord John was our leader when\nsuch practical details were in question.  The climb was a more simple\nthing now that the rope dangled down the face of the worst part of the\nascent.  Within an hour we had brought up the rifles and a shot-gun.\nThe half-breeds had ascended also, and under Lord John's orders they\nhad carried up a bale of provisions in case our first exploration\nshould be a long one.  We had each bandoliers of cartridges.\n\n\"Now, Challenger, if you really insist upon being the first man in,\"\nsaid Lord John, when every preparation was complete.\n\n\"I am much indebted to you for your gracious permission,\" said the\nangry Professor; for never was a man so intolerant of every form of\nauthority.  \"Since you are good enough to allow it, I shall most\ncertainly take it upon myself to act as pioneer upon this occasion.\"\n\nSeating himself with a leg overhanging the abyss on each side, and his\nhatchet slung upon his back, Challenger hopped his way across the trunk\nand was soon at the other side.  He clambered up and waved his arms in\nthe air.\n\n\"At last!\" he cried; \"at last!\"\n\nI gazed anxiously at him, with a vague expectation that some terrible\nfate would dart at him from the curtain of green behind him.  But all\nwas quiet, save that a strange, many-colored bird flew up from under\nhis feet and vanished among the trees.\n\nSummerlee was the second.  His wiry energy is wonderful in so frail a\nframe.  He insisted upon having two rifles slung upon his back, so that\nboth Professors were armed when he had made his transit.  I came next,\nand tried hard not to look down into the horrible gulf over which I was\npassing.  Summerlee held out the butt-end of his rifle, and an instant\nlater I was able to grasp his hand.  As to Lord John, he walked\nacross--actually walked without support!  He must have nerves of iron.\n\nAnd there we were, the four of us, upon the dreamland, the lost world,\nof Maple White.  To all of us it seemed the moment of our supreme\ntriumph.  Who could have guessed that it was the prelude to our supreme\ndisaster?  Let me say in a few words how the crushing blow fell upon us.\n\nWe had turned away from the edge, and had penetrated about fifty yards\nof close brushwood, when there came a frightful rending crash from\nbehind us.  With one impulse we rushed back the way that we had come.\nThe bridge was gone!\n\nFar down at the base of the cliff I saw, as I looked over, a tangled\nmass of branches and splintered trunk.  It was our beech tree.  Had the\nedge of the platform crumbled and let it through?  For a moment this\nexplanation was in all our minds.  The next, from the farther side of\nthe rocky pinnacle before us a swarthy face, the face of Gomez the\nhalf-breed, was slowly protruded.  Yes, it was Gomez, but no longer the\nGomez of the demure smile and the mask-like expression.  Here was a\nface with flashing eyes and distorted features, a face convulsed with\nhatred and with the mad joy of gratified revenge.\n\n\"Lord Roxton!\" he shouted.  \"Lord John Roxton!\"\n\n\"Well,\" said our companion, \"here I am.\"\n\nA shriek of laughter came across the abyss.\n\n\"Yes, there you are, you English dog, and there you will remain!  I\nhave waited and waited, and now has come my chance.  You found it hard\nto get up; you will find it harder to get down.  You cursed fools, you\nare trapped, every one of you!\"\n\nWe were too astounded to speak.  We could only stand there staring in\namazement.  A great broken bough upon the grass showed whence he had\ngained his leverage to tilt over our bridge.  The face had vanished,\nbut presently it was up again, more frantic than before.\n\n\"We nearly killed you with a stone at the cave,\" he cried; \"but this is\nbetter.  It is slower and more terrible.  Your bones will whiten up\nthere, and none will know where you lie or come to cover them.  As you\nlie dying, think of Lopez, whom you shot five years ago on the Putomayo\nRiver.  I am his brother, and, come what will I will die happy now, for\nhis memory has been avenged.\" A furious hand was shaken at us, and then\nall was quiet.\n\nHad the half-breed simply wrought his vengeance and then escaped, all\nmight have been well with him.  It was that foolish, irresistible Latin\nimpulse to be dramatic which brought his own downfall.  Roxton, the man\nwho had earned himself the name of the Flail of the Lord through three\ncountries, was not one who could be safely taunted.  The half-breed was\ndescending on the farther side of the pinnacle; but before he could\nreach the ground Lord John had run along the edge of the plateau and\ngained a point from which he could see his man.  There was a single\ncrack of his rifle, and, though we saw nothing, we heard the scream and\nthen the distant thud of the falling body.  Roxton came back to us with\na face of granite.\n\n\"I have been a blind simpleton,\" said he, bitterly,  \"It's my folly\nthat has brought you all into this trouble.  I should have remembered\nthat these people have long memories for blood-feuds, and have been\nmore upon my guard.\"\n\n\"What about the other one?  It took two of them to lever that tree over\nthe edge.\"\n\n\"I could have shot him, but I let him go.  He may have had no part in\nit.  Perhaps it would have been better if I had killed him, for he\nmust, as you say, have lent a hand.\"\n\nNow that we had the clue to his action, each of us could cast back and\nremember some sinister act upon the part of the half-breed--his\nconstant desire to know our plans, his arrest outside our tent when he\nwas over-hearing them, the furtive looks of hatred which from time to\ntime one or other of us had surprised.  We were still discussing it,\nendeavoring to adjust our minds to these new conditions, when a\nsingular scene in the plain below arrested our attention.\n\nA man in white clothes, who could only be the surviving half-breed, was\nrunning as one does run when Death is the pacemaker.  Behind him, only\na few yards in his rear, bounded the huge ebony figure of Zambo, our\ndevoted negro.  Even as we looked, he sprang upon the back of the\nfugitive and flung his arms round his neck.  They rolled on the ground\ntogether.  An instant afterwards Zambo rose, looked at the prostrate\nman, and then, waving his hand joyously to us, came running in our\ndirection.  The white figure lay motionless in the middle of the great\nplain.\n\nOur two traitors had been destroyed, but the mischief that they had\ndone lived after them.  By no possible means could we get back to the\npinnacle.  We had been natives of the world; now we were natives of the\nplateau.  The two things were separate and apart.  There was the plain\nwhich led to the canoes.  Yonder, beyond the violet, hazy horizon, was\nthe stream which led back to civilization.  But the link between was\nmissing.  No human ingenuity could suggest a means of bridging the\nchasm which yawned between ourselves and our past lives.  One instant\nhad altered the whole conditions of our existence.\n\nIt was at such a moment that I learned the stuff of which my three\ncomrades were composed.  They were grave, it is true, and thoughtful,\nbut of an invincible serenity.  For the moment we could only sit among\nthe bushes in patience and wait the coming of Zambo.  Presently his\nhonest black face topped the rocks and his Herculean figure emerged\nupon the top of the pinnacle.\n\n\"What I do now?\" he cried.  \"You tell me and I do it.\"\n\nIt was a question which it was easier to ask than to answer.  One thing\nonly was clear.  He was our one trusty link with the outside world.  On\nno account must he leave us.\n\n\"No no!\" he cried.  \"I not leave you.  Whatever come, you always find\nme here.  But no able to keep Indians.  Already they say too much\nCurupuri live on this place, and they go home.  Now you leave them me\nno able to keep them.\"\n\nIt was a fact that our Indians had shown in many ways of late that they\nwere weary of their journey and anxious to return.  We realized that\nZambo spoke the truth, and that it would be impossible for him to keep\nthem.\n\n\"Make them wait till to-morrow, Zambo,\" I shouted; \"then I can send\nletter back by them.\"\n\n\"Very good, sarr! I promise they wait till to-morrow,\" said the negro.\n\"But what I do for you now?\"\n\nThere was plenty for him to do, and admirably the faithful fellow did\nit.  First of all, under our directions, he undid the rope from the\ntree-stump and threw one end of it across to us.  It was not thicker\nthan a clothes-line, but it was of great strength, and though we could\nnot make a bridge of it, we might well find it invaluable if we had any\nclimbing to do.  He then fastened his end of the rope to the package of\nsupplies which had been carried up, and we were able to drag it across.\nThis gave us the means of life for at least a week, even if we found\nnothing else.  Finally he descended and carried up two other packets of\nmixed goods--a box of ammunition and a number of other things, all of\nwhich we got across by throwing our rope to him and hauling it back.\nIt was evening when he at last climbed down, with a final assurance\nthat he would keep the Indians till next morning.\n\nAnd so it is that I have spent nearly the whole of this our first night\nupon the plateau writing up our experiences by the light of a single\ncandle-lantern.\n\nWe supped and camped at the very edge of the cliff, quenching our\nthirst with two bottles of Apollinaris which were in one of the cases.\nIt is vital to us to find water, but I think even Lord John himself had\nhad adventures enough for one day, and none of us felt inclined to make\nthe first push into the unknown.  We forbore to light a fire or to make\nany unnecessary sound.\n\nTo-morrow (or to-day, rather, for it is already dawn as I write) we\nshall make our first venture into this strange land.  When I shall be\nable to write again--or if I ever shall write again--I know not.\nMeanwhile, I can see that the Indians are still in their place, and I\nam sure that the faithful Zambo will be here presently to get my\nletter.  I only trust that it will come to hand.\n\n\nP.S.--The more I think the more desperate does our position seem.  I\nsee no possible hope of our return.  If there were a high tree near the\nedge of the plateau we might drop a return bridge across, but there is\nnone within fifty yards.  Our united strength could not carry a trunk\nwhich would serve our purpose.  The rope, of course, is far too short\nthat we could descend by it.  No, our position is hopeless--hopeless!\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER X\n\n            \"The most Wonderful Things have Happened\"\n\nThe most wonderful things have happened and are continually happening\nto us.  All the paper that I possess consists of five old note-books\nand a lot of scraps, and I have only the one stylographic pencil; but\nso long as I can move my hand I will continue to set down our\nexperiences and impressions, for, since we are the only men of the\nwhole human race to see such things, it is of enormous importance that\nI should record them whilst they are fresh in my memory and before that\nfate which seems to be constantly impending does actually overtake us.\nWhether Zambo can at last take these letters to the river, or whether I\nshall myself in some miraculous way carry them back with me, or,\nfinally, whether some daring explorer, coming upon our tracks with the\nadvantage, perhaps, of a perfected monoplane, should find this bundle\nof manuscript, in any case I can see that what I am writing is destined\nto immortality as a classic of true adventure.\n\nOn the morning after our being trapped upon the plateau by the\nvillainous Gomez we began a new stage in our experiences.  The first\nincident in it was not such as to give me a very favorable opinion of\nthe place to which we had wandered.  As I roused myself from a short\nnap after day had dawned, my eyes fell upon a most singular appearance\nupon my own leg.  My trouser had slipped up, exposing a few inches of\nmy skin above my sock.  On this there rested a large, purplish grape.\nAstonished at the sight, I leaned forward to pick it off, when, to my\nhorror, it burst between my finger and thumb, squirting blood in every\ndirection.  My cry of disgust had brought the two professors to my side.\n\n\"Most interesting,\" said Summerlee, bending over my shin.  \"An enormous\nblood-tick, as yet, I believe, unclassified.\"\n\n\"The first-fruits of our labors,\" said Challenger in his booming,\npedantic fashion.  \"We cannot do less than call it Ixodes Maloni.  The\nvery small inconvenience of being bitten, my young friend, cannot, I am\nsure, weigh with you as against the glorious privilege of having your\nname inscribed in the deathless roll of zoology.  Unhappily you have\ncrushed this fine specimen at the moment of satiation.\"\n\n\"Filthy vermin!\" I cried.\n\nProfessor Challenger raised his great eyebrows in protest, and placed a\nsoothing paw upon my shoulder.\n\n\"You should cultivate the scientific eye and the detached scientific\nmind,\" said he.  \"To a man of philosophic temperament like myself the\nblood-tick, with its lancet-like proboscis and its distending stomach,\nis as beautiful a work of Nature as the peacock or, for that matter,\nthe aurora borealis.  It pains me to hear you speak of it in so\nunappreciative a fashion.  No doubt, with due diligence, we can secure\nsome other specimen.\"\n\n\"There can be no doubt of that,\" said Summerlee, grimly, \"for one has\njust disappeared behind your shirt-collar.\"\n\nChallenger sprang into the air bellowing like a bull, and tore\nfrantically at his coat and shirt to get them off.  Summerlee and I\nlaughed so that we could hardly help him.  At last we exposed that\nmonstrous torso (fifty-four inches, by the tailor's tape).  His body\nwas all matted with black hair, out of which jungle we picked the\nwandering tick before it had bitten him.  But the bushes round were\nfull of the horrible pests, and it was clear that we must shift our\ncamp.\n\nBut first of all it was necessary to make our arrangements with the\nfaithful negro, who appeared presently on the pinnacle with a number of\ntins of cocoa and biscuits, which he tossed over to us.  Of the stores\nwhich remained below he was ordered to retain as much as would keep him\nfor two months.  The Indians were to have the remainder as a reward for\ntheir services and as payment for taking our letters back to the\nAmazon.  Some hours later we saw them in single file far out upon the\nplain, each with a bundle on his head, making their way back along the\npath we had come.  Zambo occupied our little tent at the base of the\npinnacle, and there he remained, our one link with the world below.\n\nAnd now we had to decide upon our immediate movements.  We shifted our\nposition from among the tick-laden bushes until we came to a small\nclearing thickly surrounded by trees upon all sides.  There were some\nflat slabs of rock in the center, with an excellent well close by, and\nthere we sat in cleanly comfort while we made our first plans for the\ninvasion of this new country.  Birds were calling among the\nfoliage--especially one with a peculiar whooping cry which was new to\nus--but beyond these sounds there were no signs of life.\n\nOur first care was to make some sort of list of our own stores, so that\nwe might know what we had to rely upon.  What with the things we had\nourselves brought up and those which Zambo had sent across on the rope,\nwe were fairly well supplied.  Most important of all, in view of the\ndangers which might surround us, we had our four rifles and one\nthousand three hundred rounds, also a shot-gun, but not more than a\nhundred and fifty medium pellet cartridges.  In the matter of\nprovisions we had enough to last for several weeks, with a sufficiency\nof tobacco and a few scientific implements, including a large telescope\nand a good field-glass.  All these things we collected together in the\nclearing, and as a first precaution, we cut down with our hatchet and\nknives a number of thorny bushes, which we piled round in a circle some\nfifteen yards in diameter.  This was to be our headquarters for the\ntime--our place of refuge against sudden danger and the guard-house for\nour stores.  Fort Challenger, we called it.\n\nIt was midday before we had made ourselves secure, but the heat was not\noppressive, and the general character of the plateau, both in its\ntemperature and in its vegetation, was almost temperate.  The beech,\nthe oak, and even the birch were to be found among the tangle of trees\nwhich girt us in.  One huge gingko tree, topping all the others, shot\nits great limbs and maidenhair foliage over the fort which we had\nconstructed.  In its shade we continued our discussion, while Lord\nJohn, who had quickly taken command in the hour of action, gave us his\nviews.\n\n\"So long as neither man nor beast has seen or heard us, we are safe,\"\nsaid he.  \"From the time they know we are here our troubles begin.\nThere are no signs that they have found us out as yet.  So our game\nsurely is to lie low for a time and spy out the land.  We want to have\na good look at our neighbors before we get on visitin' terms.\"\n\n\"But we must advance,\" I ventured to remark.\n\n\"By all means, sonny my boy!  We will advance.  But with common sense.\nWe must never go so far that we can't get back to our base.  Above all,\nwe must never, unless it is life or death, fire off our guns.\"\n\n\"But YOU fired yesterday,\" said Summerlee.\n\n\"Well, it couldn't be helped.  However, the wind was strong and blew\noutwards.  It is not likely that the sound could have traveled far into\nthe plateau.  By the way, what shall we call this place?  I suppose it\nis up to us to give it a name?\"\n\nThere were several suggestions, more or less happy, but Challenger's\nwas final.\n\n\"It can only have one name,\" said he.  \"It is called after the pioneer\nwho discovered it.  It is Maple White Land.\"\n\nMaple White Land it became, and so it is named in that chart which has\nbecome my special task.  So it will, I trust, appear in the atlas of\nthe future.\n\nThe peaceful penetration of Maple White Land was the pressing subject\nbefore us.  We had the evidence of our own eyes that the place was\ninhabited by some unknown creatures, and there was that of Maple\nWhite's sketch-book to show that more dreadful and more dangerous\nmonsters might still appear.  That there might also prove to be human\noccupants and that they were of a malevolent character was suggested by\nthe skeleton impaled upon the bamboos, which could not have got there\nhad it not been dropped from above.  Our situation, stranded without\npossibility of escape in such a land, was clearly full of danger, and\nour reasons endorsed every measure of caution which Lord John's\nexperience could suggest.  Yet it was surely impossible that we should\nhalt on the edge of this world of mystery when our very souls were\ntingling with impatience to push forward and to pluck the heart from it.\n\nWe therefore blocked the entrance to our zareba by filling it up with\nseveral thorny bushes, and left our camp with the stores entirely\nsurrounded by this protecting hedge.  We then slowly and cautiously set\nforth into the unknown, following the course of the little stream which\nflowed from our spring, as it should always serve us as a guide on our\nreturn.\n\nHardly had we started when we came across signs that there were indeed\nwonders awaiting us.  After a few hundred yards of thick forest,\ncontaining many trees which were quite unknown to me, but which\nSummerlee, who was the botanist of the party, recognized as forms of\nconifera and of cycadaceous plants which have long passed away in the\nworld below, we entered a region where the stream widened out and\nformed a considerable bog.  High reeds of a peculiar type grew thickly\nbefore us, which were pronounced to be equisetacea, or mare's-tails,\nwith tree-ferns scattered amongst them, all of them swaying in a brisk\nwind.  Suddenly Lord John, who was walking first, halted with uplifted\nhand.\n\n\"Look at this!\" said he.  \"By George, this must be the trail of the\nfather of all birds!\"\n\nAn enormous three-toed track was imprinted in the soft mud before us.\nThe creature, whatever it was, had crossed the swamp and had passed on\ninto the forest.  We all stopped to examine that monstrous spoor.  If\nit were indeed a bird--and what animal could leave such a mark?--its\nfoot was so much larger than an ostrich's that its height upon the same\nscale must be enormous.  Lord John looked eagerly round him and slipped\ntwo cartridges into his elephant-gun.\n\n\"I'll stake my good name as a shikarree,\" said he, \"that the track is a\nfresh one.  The creature has not passed ten minutes.  Look how the\nwater is still oozing into that deeper print!  By Jove!  See, here is\nthe mark of a little one!\"\n\nSure enough, smaller tracks of the same general form were running\nparallel to the large ones.\n\n\"But what do you make of this?\" cried Professor Summerlee,\ntriumphantly, pointing to what looked like the huge print of a\nfive-fingered human hand appearing among the three-toed marks.\n\n\"Wealden!\" cried Challenger, in an ecstasy.  \"I've seen them in the\nWealden clay.  It is a creature walking erect upon three-toed feet, and\noccasionally putting one of its five-fingered forepaws upon the ground.\nNot a bird, my dear Roxton--not a bird.\"\n\n\"A beast?\"\n\n\"No; a reptile--a dinosaur.  Nothing else could have left such a track.\nThey puzzled a worthy Sussex doctor some ninety years ago; but who in\nthe world could have hoped--hoped--to have seen a sight like that?\"\n\nHis words died away into a whisper, and we all stood in motionless\namazement.  Following the tracks, we had left the morass and passed\nthrough a screen of brushwood and trees.  Beyond was an open glade, and\nin this were five of the most extraordinary creatures that I have ever\nseen.  Crouching down among the bushes, we observed them at our leisure.\n\nThere were, as I say, five of them, two being adults and three young\nones.  In size they were enormous.  Even the babies were as big as\nelephants, while the two large ones were far beyond all creatures I\nhave ever seen.  They had slate-colored skin, which was scaled like a\nlizard's and shimmered where the sun shone upon it.  All five were\nsitting up, balancing themselves upon their broad, powerful tails and\ntheir huge three-toed hind-feet, while with their small five-fingered\nfront-feet they pulled down the branches upon which they browsed.  I do\nnot know that I can bring their appearance home to you better than by\nsaying that they looked like monstrous kangaroos, twenty feet in\nlength, and with skins like black crocodiles.\n\nI do not know how long we stayed motionless gazing at this marvelous\nspectacle.  A strong wind blew towards us and we were well concealed,\nso there was no chance of discovery.  From time to time the little ones\nplayed round their parents in unwieldy gambols, the great beasts\nbounding into the air and falling with dull thuds upon the earth.  The\nstrength of the parents seemed to be limitless, for one of them, having\nsome difficulty in reaching a bunch of foliage which grew upon a\nconsiderable-sized tree, put his fore-legs round the trunk and tore it\ndown as if it had been a sapling.  The action seemed, as I thought, to\nshow not only the great development of its muscles, but also the small\none of its brain, for the whole weight came crashing down upon the top\nof it, and it uttered a series of shrill yelps to show that, big as it\nwas, there was a limit to what it could endure.  The incident made it\nthink, apparently, that the neighborhood was dangerous, for it slowly\nlurched off through the wood, followed by its mate and its three\nenormous infants.  We saw the shimmering slaty gleam of their skins\nbetween the tree-trunks, and their heads undulating high above the\nbrush-wood.  Then they vanished from our sight.\n\nI looked at my comrades.  Lord John was standing at gaze with his\nfinger on the trigger of his elephant-gun, his eager hunter's soul\nshining from his fierce eyes.  What would he not give for one such head\nto place between the two crossed oars above the mantelpiece in his\nsnuggery at the Albany!  And yet his reason held him in, for all our\nexploration of the wonders of this unknown land depended upon our\npresence being concealed from its inhabitants.  The two professors were\nin silent ecstasy.  In their excitement they had unconsciously seized\neach other by the hand, and stood like two little children in the\npresence of a marvel, Challenger's cheeks bunched up into a seraphic\nsmile, and Summerlee's sardonic face softening for the moment into\nwonder and reverence.\n\n\"Nunc dimittis!\" he cried at last.  \"What will they say in England of\nthis?\"\n\n\"My dear Summerlee, I will tell you with great confidence exactly what\nthey will say in England,\" said Challenger.  \"They will say that you\nare an infernal liar and a scientific charlatan, exactly as you and\nothers said of me.\"\n\n\"In the face of photographs?\"\n\n\"Faked, Summerlee!  Clumsily faked!\"\n\n\"In the face of specimens?\"\n\n\"Ah, there we may have them!  Malone and his filthy Fleet Street crew\nmay be all yelping our praises yet.  August the twenty-eighth--the day\nwe saw five live iguanodons in a glade of Maple White Land.  Put it\ndown in your diary, my young friend, and send it to your rag.\"\n\n\"And be ready to get the toe-end of the editorial boot in return,\" said\nLord John.  \"Things look a bit different from the latitude of London,\nyoung fellah my lad.  There's many a man who never tells his\nadventures, for he can't hope to be believed.  Who's to blame them?\nFor this will seem a bit of a dream to ourselves in a month or two.\nWHAT did you say they were?\"\n\n\"Iguanodons,\" said Summerlee.  \"You'll find their footmarks all over\nthe Hastings sands, in Kent, and in Sussex.  The South of England was\nalive with them when there was plenty of good lush green-stuff to keep\nthem going.  Conditions have changed, and the beasts died.  Here it\nseems that the conditions have not changed, and the beasts have lived.\"\n\n\"If ever we get out of this alive, I must have a head with me,\" said\nLord John.  \"Lord, how some of that Somaliland-Uganda crowd would turn\na beautiful pea-green if they saw it!  I don't know what you chaps\nthink, but it strikes me that we are on mighty thin ice all this time.\"\n\nI had the same feeling of mystery and danger around us.  In the gloom\nof the trees there seemed a constant menace and as we looked up into\ntheir shadowy foliage vague terrors crept into one's heart.  It is true\nthat these monstrous creatures which we had seen were lumbering,\ninoffensive brutes which were unlikely to hurt anyone, but in this\nworld of wonders what other survivals might there not be--what fierce,\nactive horrors ready to pounce upon us from their lair among the rocks\nor brushwood?  I knew little of prehistoric life, but I had a clear\nremembrance of one book which I had read in which it spoke of creatures\nwho would live upon our lions and tigers as a cat lives upon mice.\nWhat if these also were to be found in the woods of Maple White Land!\n\nIt was destined that on this very morning--our first in the new\ncountry--we were to find out what strange hazards lay around us.  It\nwas a loathsome adventure, and one of which I hate to think.  If, as\nLord John said, the glade of the iguanodons will remain with us as a\ndream, then surely the swamp of the pterodactyls will forever be our\nnightmare.  Let me set down exactly what occurred.\n\nWe passed very slowly through the woods, partly because Lord Roxton\nacted as scout before he would let us advance, and partly because at\nevery second step one or other of our professors would fall, with a cry\nof wonder, before some flower or insect which presented him with a new\ntype.  We may have traveled two or three miles in all, keeping to the\nright of the line of the stream, when we came upon a considerable\nopening in the trees.  A belt of brushwood led up to a tangle of\nrocks--the whole plateau was strewn with boulders.  We were walking\nslowly towards these rocks, among bushes which reached over our waists,\nwhen we became aware of a strange low gabbling and whistling sound,\nwhich filled the air with a constant clamor and appeared to come from\nsome spot immediately before us.  Lord John held up his hand as a\nsignal for us to stop, and he made his way swiftly, stooping and\nrunning, to the line of rocks.  We saw him peep over them and give a\ngesture of amazement.  Then he stood staring as if forgetting us, so\nutterly entranced was he by what he saw.  Finally he waved us to come\non, holding up his hand as a signal for caution.  His whole bearing\nmade me feel that something wonderful but dangerous lay before us.\n\nCreeping to his side, we looked over the rocks.  The place into which\nwe gazed was a pit, and may, in the early days, have been one of the\nsmaller volcanic blow-holes of the plateau.  It was bowl-shaped and at\nthe bottom, some hundreds of yards from where we lay, were pools of\ngreen-scummed, stagnant water, fringed with bullrushes.  It was a weird\nplace in itself, but its occupants made it seem like a scene from the\nSeven Circles of Dante.  The place was a rookery of pterodactyls.\nThere were hundreds of them congregated within view.  All the bottom\narea round the water-edge was alive with their young ones, and with\nhideous mothers brooding upon their leathery, yellowish eggs.  From\nthis crawling flapping mass of obscene reptilian life came the shocking\nclamor which filled the air and the mephitic, horrible, musty odor\nwhich turned us sick.  But above, perched each upon its own stone,\ntall, gray, and withered, more like dead and dried specimens than\nactual living creatures, sat the horrible males, absolutely motionless\nsave for the rolling of their red eyes or an occasional snap of their\nrat-trap beaks as a dragon-fly went past them.  Their huge, membranous\nwings were closed by folding their fore-arms, so that they sat like\ngigantic old women, wrapped in hideous web-colored shawls, and with\ntheir ferocious heads protruding above them.  Large and small, not less\nthan a thousand of these filthy creatures lay in the hollow before us.\n\nOur professors would gladly have stayed there all day, so entranced\nwere they by this opportunity of studying the life of a prehistoric\nage.  They pointed out the fish and dead birds lying about among the\nrocks as proving the nature of the food of these creatures, and I heard\nthem congratulating each other on having cleared up the point why the\nbones of this flying dragon are found in such great numbers in certain\nwell-defined areas, as in the Cambridge Green-sand, since it was now\nseen that, like penguins, they lived in gregarious fashion.\n\nFinally, however, Challenger, bent upon proving some point which\nSummerlee had contested, thrust his head over the rock and nearly\nbrought destruction upon us all.  In an instant the nearest male gave a\nshrill, whistling cry, and flapped its twenty-foot span of leathery\nwings as it soared up into the air.  The females and young ones huddled\ntogether beside the water, while the whole circle of sentinels rose one\nafter the other and sailed off into the sky.  It was a wonderful sight\nto see at least a hundred creatures of such enormous size and hideous\nappearance all swooping like swallows with swift, shearing wing-strokes\nabove us; but soon we realized that it was not one on which we could\nafford to linger.  At first the great brutes flew round in a huge ring,\nas if to make sure what the exact extent of the danger might be.  Then,\nthe flight grew lower and the circle narrower, until they were whizzing\nround and round us, the dry, rustling flap of their huge slate-colored\nwings filling the air with a volume of sound that made me think of\nHendon aerodrome upon a race day.\n\n\"Make for the wood and keep together,\" cried Lord John, clubbing his\nrifle.  \"The brutes mean mischief.\"\n\nThe moment we attempted to retreat the circle closed in upon us, until\nthe tips of the wings of those nearest to us nearly touched our faces.\nWe beat at them with the stocks of our guns, but there was nothing\nsolid or vulnerable to strike.  Then suddenly out of the whizzing,\nslate-colored circle a long neck shot out, and a fierce beak made a\nthrust at us.  Another and another followed.  Summerlee gave a cry and\nput his hand to his face, from which the blood was streaming.  I felt a\nprod at the back of my neck, and turned dizzy with the shock.\nChallenger fell, and as I stooped to pick him up I was again struck\nfrom behind and dropped on the top of him.  At the same instant I heard\nthe crash of Lord John's elephant-gun, and, looking up, saw one of the\ncreatures with a broken wing struggling upon the ground, spitting and\ngurgling at us with a wide-opened beak and blood-shot, goggled eyes,\nlike some devil in a medieval picture.  Its comrades had flown higher\nat the sudden sound, and were circling above our heads.\n\n\"Now,\" cried Lord John, \"now for our lives!\"\n\nWe staggered through the brushwood, and even as we reached the trees\nthe harpies were on us again.  Summerlee was knocked down, but we tore\nhim up and rushed among the trunks.  Once there we were safe, for those\nhuge wings had no space for their sweep beneath the branches.  As we\nlimped homewards, sadly mauled and discomfited, we saw them for a long\ntime flying at a great height against the deep blue sky above our\nheads, soaring round and round, no bigger than wood-pigeons, with their\neyes no doubt still following our progress.  At last, however, as we\nreached the thicker woods they gave up the chase, and we saw them no\nmore.\n\n\"A most interesting and convincing experience,\" said Challenger, as we\nhalted beside the brook and he bathed a swollen knee.  \"We are\nexceptionally well informed, Summerlee, as to the habits of the enraged\npterodactyl.\"\n\nSummerlee was wiping the blood from a cut in his forehead, while I was\ntying up a nasty stab in the muscle of the neck.  Lord John had the\nshoulder of his coat torn away, but the creature's teeth had only\ngrazed the flesh.\n\n\"It is worth noting,\" Challenger continued, \"that our young friend has\nreceived an undoubted stab, while Lord John's coat could only have been\ntorn by a bite.  In my own case, I was beaten about the head by their\nwings, so we have had a remarkable exhibition of their various methods\nof offence.\"\n\n\"It has been touch and go for our lives,\" said Lord John, gravely, \"and\nI could not think of a more rotten sort of death than to be outed by\nsuch filthy vermin.  I was sorry to fire my rifle, but, by Jove! there\nwas no great choice.\"\n\n\"We should not be here if you hadn't,\" said I, with conviction.\n\n\"It may do no harm,\" said he.  \"Among these woods there must be many\nloud cracks from splitting or falling trees which would be just like\nthe sound of a gun.  But now, if you are of my opinion, we have had\nthrills enough for one day, and had best get back to the surgical box\nat the camp for some carbolic.  Who knows what venom these beasts may\nhave in their hideous jaws?\"\n\nBut surely no men ever had just such a day since the world began.  Some\nfresh surprise was ever in store for us.  When, following the course of\nour brook, we at last reached our glade and saw the thorny barricade of\nour camp, we thought that our adventures were at an end.  But we had\nsomething more to think of before we could rest.  The gate of Fort\nChallenger had been untouched, the walls were unbroken, and yet it had\nbeen visited by some strange and powerful creature in our absence.  No\nfoot-mark showed a trace of its nature, and only the overhanging branch\nof the enormous ginko tree suggested how it might have come and gone;\nbut of its malevolent strength there was ample evidence in the\ncondition of our stores.  They were strewn at random all over the\nground, and one tin of meat had been crushed into pieces so as to\nextract the contents.  A case of cartridges had been shattered into\nmatchwood, and one of the brass shells lay shredded into pieces beside\nit.  Again the feeling of vague horror came upon our souls, and we\ngazed round with frightened eyes at the dark shadows which lay around\nus, in all of which some fearsome shape might be lurking.  How good it\nwas when we were hailed by the voice of Zambo, and, going to the edge\nof the plateau, saw him sitting grinning at us upon the top of the\nopposite pinnacle.\n\n\"All well, Massa Challenger, all well!\" he cried.  \"Me stay here.  No\nfear.  You always find me when you want.\"\n\nHis honest black face, and the immense view before us, which carried us\nhalf-way back to the affluent of the Amazon, helped us to remember that\nwe really were upon this earth in the twentieth century, and had not by\nsome magic been conveyed to some raw planet in its earliest and wildest\nstate.  How difficult it was to realize that the violet line upon the\nfar horizon was well advanced to that great river upon which huge\nsteamers ran, and folk talked of the small affairs of life, while we,\nmarooned among the creatures of a bygone age, could but gaze towards it\nand yearn for all that it meant!\n\nOne other memory remains with me of this wonderful day, and with it I\nwill close this letter.  The two professors, their tempers aggravated\nno doubt by their injuries, had fallen out as to whether our assailants\nwere of the genus pterodactylus or dimorphodon, and high words had\nensued.  To avoid their wrangling I moved some little way apart, and\nwas seated smoking upon the trunk of a fallen tree, when Lord John\nstrolled over in my direction.\n\n\"I say, Malone,\" said he, \"do you remember that place where those\nbeasts were?\"\n\n\"Very clearly.\"\n\n\"A sort of volcanic pit, was it not?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" said I.\n\n\"Did you notice the soil?\"\n\n\"Rocks.\"\n\n\"But round the water--where the reeds were?\"\n\n\"It was a bluish soil.  It looked like clay.\"\n\n\"Exactly.  A volcanic tube full of blue clay.\"\n\n\"What of that?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, nothing, nothing,\" said he, and strolled back to where the voices\nof the contending men of science rose in a prolonged duet, the high,\nstrident note of Summerlee rising and falling to the sonorous bass of\nChallenger.  I should have thought no more of Lord John's remark were\nit not that once again that night I heard him mutter to himself:  \"Blue\nclay--clay in a volcanic tube!\" They were the last words I heard before\nI dropped into an exhausted sleep.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER XI\n\n                    \"For once I was the Hero\"\n\nLord John Roxton was right when he thought that some specially toxic\nquality might lie in the bite of the horrible creatures which had\nattacked us.  On the morning after our first adventure upon the\nplateau, both Summerlee and I were in great pain and fever, while\nChallenger's knee was so bruised that he could hardly limp.  We kept to\nour camp all day, therefore, Lord John busying himself, with such help\nas we could give him, in raising the height and thickness of the thorny\nwalls which were our only defense.  I remember that during the whole\nlong day I was haunted by the feeling that we were closely observed,\nthough by whom or whence I could give no guess.\n\nSo strong was the impression that I told Professor Challenger of it,\nwho put it down to the cerebral excitement caused by my fever.  Again\nand again I glanced round swiftly, with the conviction that I was about\nto see something, but only to meet the dark tangle of our hedge or the\nsolemn and cavernous gloom of the great trees which arched above our\nheads.  And yet the feeling grew ever stronger in my own mind that\nsomething observant and something malevolent was at our very elbow.  I\nthought of the Indian superstition of the Curupuri--the dreadful,\nlurking spirit of the woods--and I could have imagined that his\nterrible presence haunted those who had invaded his most remote and\nsacred retreat.\n\nThat night (our third in Maple White Land) we had an experience which\nleft a fearful impression upon our minds, and made us thankful that\nLord John had worked so hard in making our retreat impregnable.  We\nwere all sleeping round our dying fire when we were aroused--or,\nrather, I should say, shot out of our slumbers--by a succession of the\nmost frightful cries and screams to which I have ever listened.  I know\nno sound to which I could compare this amazing tumult, which seemed to\ncome from some spot within a few hundred yards of our camp.  It was as\near-splitting as any whistle of a railway-engine; but whereas the\nwhistle is a clear, mechanical, sharp-edged sound, this was far deeper\nin volume and vibrant with the uttermost strain of agony and horror.\nWe clapped our hands to our ears to shut out that nerve-shaking appeal.\nA cold sweat broke out over my body, and my heart turned sick at the\nmisery of it.  All the woes of tortured life, all its stupendous\nindictment of high heaven, its innumerable sorrows, seemed to be\ncentered and condensed into that one dreadful, agonized cry.  And then,\nunder this high-pitched, ringing sound there was another, more\nintermittent, a low, deep-chested laugh, a growling, throaty gurgle of\nmerriment which formed a grotesque accompaniment to the shriek with\nwhich it was blended.  For three or four minutes on end the fearsome\nduet continued, while all the foliage rustled with the rising of\nstartled birds.  Then it shut off as suddenly as it began.  For a long\ntime we sat in horrified silence.  Then Lord John threw a bundle of\ntwigs upon the fire, and their red glare lit up the intent faces of my\ncompanions and flickered over the great boughs above our heads.\n\n\"What was it?\" I whispered.\n\n\"We shall know in the morning,\" said Lord John.  \"It  was close to\nus--not farther than the glade.\"\n\n\"We have been privileged to overhear a prehistoric tragedy, the sort of\ndrama which occurred among the reeds upon the border of some Jurassic\nlagoon, when the greater dragon pinned the lesser among the slime,\"\nsaid Challenger, with more solemnity than I had ever heard in his\nvoice.  \"It was surely well for man that he came late in the order of\ncreation.  There were powers abroad in earlier days which no courage\nand no mechanism of his could have met.  What could his sling, his\nthrowing-stick, or his arrow avail him against such forces as have been\nloose to-night?  Even with a modern rifle it would be all odds on the\nmonster.\"\n\n\"I think I should back my little friend,\" said Lord John, caressing his\nExpress.  \"But the beast would certainly have a good sporting chance.\"\n\nSummerlee raised his hand.\n\n\"Hush!\" he cried.  \"Surely I hear something?\"\n\nFrom the utter silence there emerged a deep, regular pat-pat.  It was\nthe tread of some animal--the rhythm of soft but heavy pads placed\ncautiously upon the ground.  It stole slowly round the camp, and then\nhalted near our gateway.  There was a low, sibilant rise and fall--the\nbreathing of the creature.  Only our feeble hedge separated us from\nthis horror of the night.  Each of us had seized his rifle, and Lord\nJohn had pulled out a small bush to make an embrasure in the hedge.\n\n\"By George!\" he whispered.  \"I think I can see it!\"\n\nI stooped and peered over his shoulder through the gap.  Yes, I could\nsee it, too.  In the deep shadow of the tree there was a deeper shadow\nyet, black, inchoate, vague--a crouching form full of savage vigor and\nmenace.  It was no higher than a horse, but the dim outline suggested\nvast bulk and strength.  That hissing pant, as regular and full-volumed\nas the exhaust of an engine, spoke of a monstrous organism.  Once, as\nit moved, I thought I saw the glint of two terrible, greenish eyes.\nThere was an uneasy rustling, as if it were crawling slowly forward.\n\n\"I believe it is going to spring!\" said I, cocking my rifle.\n\n\"Don't fire!  Don't fire!\" whispered Lord John.  \"The crash of a gun in\nthis silent night would be heard for miles.  Keep it as a last card.\"\n\n\"If it gets over the hedge we're done,\" said Summerlee, and his voice\ncrackled into a nervous laugh as he spoke.\n\n\"No, it must not get over,\" cried Lord John; \"but hold your fire to the\nlast.  Perhaps I can make something of the fellow.  I'll chance it,\nanyhow.\"\n\nIt was as brave an act as ever I saw a man do.  He stooped to the fire,\npicked up a blazing branch, and slipped in an instant through a\nsallyport which he had made in our gateway.  The thing moved forward\nwith a dreadful snarl.  Lord John never hesitated, but, running towards\nit with a quick, light step, he dashed the flaming wood into the\nbrute's face.  For one moment I had a vision of a horrible mask like a\ngiant toad's, of a warty, leprous skin, and of a loose mouth all\nbeslobbered with fresh blood.  The next, there was a crash in the\nunderwood and our dreadful visitor was gone.\n\n\"I thought he wouldn't face the fire,\" said Lord John, laughing, as he\ncame back and threw his branch among the faggots.\n\n\"You should not have taken such a risk!\" we all cried.\n\n\"There was nothin' else to be done.  If he had got among us we should\nhave shot each other in tryin' to down him.  On the other hand, if we\nhad fired through the hedge and wounded him he would soon have been on\nthe top of us--to say nothin' of giving ourselves away.  On the whole,\nI think that we are jolly well out of it.  What was he, then?\"\n\nOur learned men looked at each other with some hesitation.\n\n\"Personally, I am unable to classify the creature with any certainty,\"\nsaid Summerlee, lighting his pipe from the fire.\n\n\"In refusing to commit yourself you are but showing a proper scientific\nreserve,\" said Challenger, with massive condescension.  \"I am not\nmyself prepared to go farther than to say in general terms that we have\nalmost certainly been in contact to-night with some form of carnivorous\ndinosaur.  I have already expressed my anticipation that something of\nthe sort might exist upon this plateau.\"\n\n\"We have to bear in mind,\" remarked Summerlee, \"that there are many\nprehistoric forms which have never come down to us.  It would be rash\nto suppose that we can give a name to all that we are likely to meet.\"\n\n\"Exactly.  A rough classification may be the best that we can attempt.\nTo-morrow some further evidence may help us to an identification.\nMeantime we can only renew our interrupted slumbers.\"\n\n\"But not without a sentinel,\" said Lord John, with decision.  \"We can't\nafford to take chances in a country like this.  Two-hour spells in the\nfuture, for each of us.\"\n\n\"Then I'll just finish my pipe in starting the first one,\" said\nProfessor Summerlee; and from that time onwards we never trusted\nourselves again without a watchman.\n\nIn the morning it was not long before we discovered the source of the\nhideous uproar which had aroused us in the night.  The iguanodon glade\nwas the scene of a horrible butchery.  From the pools of blood and the\nenormous lumps of flesh scattered in every direction over the green\nsward we imagined at first that a number of animals had been killed,\nbut on examining the remains more closely we discovered that all this\ncarnage came from one of these unwieldy monsters, which had been\nliterally torn to pieces by some creature not larger, perhaps, but far\nmore ferocious, than itself.\n\nOur two professors sat in absorbed argument, examining piece after\npiece, which showed the marks of savage teeth and of enormous claws.\n\n\"Our judgment must still be in abeyance,\" said Professor Challenger,\nwith a huge slab of whitish-colored flesh across his knee.  \"The\nindications would be consistent with the presence of a saber-toothed\ntiger, such as are still found among the breccia of our caverns; but\nthe creature actually seen was undoubtedly of a larger and more\nreptilian character.  Personally, I should pronounce for allosaurus.\"\n\n\"Or megalosaurus,\" said Summerlee.\n\n\"Exactly.  Any one of the larger carnivorous dinosaurs would meet the\ncase.  Among them are to be found all the most terrible types of animal\nlife that have ever cursed the earth or blessed a museum.\" He laughed\nsonorously at his own conceit, for, though he had little sense of\nhumor, the crudest pleasantry from his own lips moved him always to\nroars of appreciation.\n\n\"The less noise the better,\" said Lord Roxton, curtly.  \"We don't know\nwho or what may be near us.  If this fellah comes back for his\nbreakfast and catches us here we won't have so much to laugh at.  By\nthe way, what is this mark upon the iguanodon's hide?\"\n\nOn the dull, scaly, slate-colored skin somewhere above the shoulder,\nthere was a singular black circle of some substance which looked like\nasphalt.  None of us could suggest what it meant, though Summerlee was\nof opinion that he had seen something similar upon one of the young\nones two days before.  Challenger said nothing, but looked pompous and\npuffy, as if he could if he would, so that finally Lord John asked his\nopinion direct.\n\n\"If your lordship will graciously permit me to open my mouth, I shall\nbe happy to express my sentiments,\" said he, with elaborate sarcasm.\n\"I am not in the habit of being taken to task in the fashion which\nseems to be customary with your lordship.  I was not aware that it was\nnecessary to ask your permission before smiling at a harmless\npleasantry.\"\n\nIt was not until he had received his apology that our touchy friend\nwould suffer himself to be appeased.  When at last his ruffled feelings\nwere at ease, he addressed us at some length from his seat upon a\nfallen tree, speaking, as his habit was, as if he were imparting most\nprecious information to a class of a thousand.\n\n\"With regard to the marking,\" said he, \"I am inclined to agree with my\nfriend and colleague, Professor Summerlee, that the stains are from\nasphalt.  As this plateau is, in its very nature, highly volcanic, and\nas asphalt is a substance which one associates with Plutonic forces, I\ncannot doubt that it exists in the free liquid state, and that the\ncreatures may have come in contact with it.  A much more important\nproblem is the question as to the existence of the carnivorous monster\nwhich has left its traces in this glade.  We know roughly that this\nplateau is not larger than an average English county.  Within this\nconfined space a certain number of creatures, mostly types which have\npassed away in the world below, have lived together for innumerable\nyears.  Now, it is very clear to me that in so long a period one would\nhave expected that the carnivorous creatures, multiplying unchecked,\nwould have exhausted their food supply and have been compelled to\neither modify their flesh-eating habits or die of hunger.  This we see\nhas not been so.  We can only imagine, therefore, that the balance of\nNature is preserved by some check which limits the numbers of these\nferocious creatures.  One of the many interesting problems, therefore,\nwhich await our solution is to discover what that check may be and how\nit operates.  I venture to trust that we may have some future\nopportunity for the closer study of the carnivorous dinosaurs.\"\n\n\"And I venture to trust we may not,\" I observed.\n\nThe Professor only raised his great eyebrows, as the schoolmaster meets\nthe irrelevant observation of the naughty boy.\n\n\"Perhaps Professor Summerlee may have an observation to make,\" he said,\nand the two savants ascended together into some rarefied scientific\natmosphere, where the possibilities of a modification of the birth-rate\nwere weighed against the decline of the food supply as a check in the\nstruggle for existence.\n\nThat morning we mapped out a small portion of the plateau, avoiding the\nswamp of the pterodactyls, and keeping to the east of our brook instead\nof to the west.  In that direction the country was still thickly\nwooded, with so much undergrowth that our progress was very slow.\n\nI have dwelt up to now upon the terrors of Maple White Land; but there\nwas another side to the subject, for all that morning we wandered among\nlovely flowers--mostly, as I observed, white or yellow in color, these\nbeing, as our professors explained, the primitive flower-shades.  In\nmany places the ground was absolutely covered with them, and as we\nwalked ankle-deep on that wonderful yielding carpet, the scent was\nalmost intoxicating in its sweetness and intensity.  The homely English\nbee buzzed everywhere around us.  Many of the trees under which we\npassed had their branches bowed down with fruit, some of which were of\nfamiliar sorts, while other varieties were new.  By observing which of\nthem were pecked by the birds we avoided all danger of poison and added\na delicious variety to our food reserve.  In the jungle which we\ntraversed were numerous hard-trodden paths made by the wild beasts, and\nin the more marshy places we saw a profusion of strange footmarks,\nincluding many of the iguanodon.  Once in a grove we observed several\nof these great creatures grazing, and Lord John, with his glass, was\nable to report that they also were spotted with asphalt, though in a\ndifferent place to the one which we had examined in the morning.  What\nthis phenomenon meant we could not imagine.\n\nWe saw many small animals, such as porcupines, a scaly ant-eater, and a\nwild pig, piebald in color and with long curved tusks.  Once, through a\nbreak in the trees, we saw a clear shoulder of green hill some distance\naway, and across this a large dun-colored animal was traveling at a\nconsiderable pace.  It passed so swiftly that we were unable to say\nwhat it was; but if it were a deer, as was claimed by Lord John, it\nmust have been as large as those monstrous Irish elk which are still\ndug up from time to time in the bogs of my native land.\n\nEver since the mysterious visit which had been paid to our camp we\nalways returned to it with some misgivings.  However, on this occasion\nwe found everything in order.\n\nThat evening we had a grand discussion upon our present situation and\nfuture plans, which I must describe at some length, as it led to a new\ndeparture by which we were enabled to gain a more complete knowledge of\nMaple White Land than might have come in many weeks of exploring.  It\nwas Summerlee who opened the debate.  All day he had been querulous in\nmanner, and now some remark of Lord John's as to what we should do on\nthe morrow brought all his bitterness to a head.\n\n\"What we ought to be doing to-day, to-morrow, and all the time,\" said\nhe, \"is finding some way out of the trap into which we have fallen.\nYou are all turning your brains towards getting into this country.  I\nsay that we should be scheming how to get out of it.\"\n\n\"I am surprised, sir,\" boomed Challenger, stroking his majestic beard,\n\"that any man of science should commit himself to so ignoble a\nsentiment.  You are in a land which offers such an inducement to the\nambitious naturalist as none ever has since the world began, and you\nsuggest leaving it before we have acquired more than the most\nsuperficial knowledge of it or of its contents.  I expected better\nthings of you, Professor Summerlee.\"\n\n\"You must remember,\" said Summerlee, sourly, \"that I have a large class\nin London who are at present at the mercy of an extremely inefficient\nlocum tenens.  This makes my situation different from yours, Professor\nChallenger, since, so far as I know, you have never been entrusted with\nany responsible educational work.\"\n\n\"Quite so,\" said Challenger.  \"I have felt it to be a sacrilege to\ndivert a brain which is capable of the highest original research to any\nlesser object.  That is why I have sternly set my face against any\nproffered scholastic appointment.\"\n\n\"For example?\" asked Summerlee, with a sneer; but Lord John hastened to\nchange the conversation.\n\n\"I must say,\" said he, \"that I think it would be a mighty poor thing to\ngo back to London before I know a great deal more of this place than I\ndo at present.\"\n\n\"I could never dare to walk into the back office of my paper and face\nold McArdle,\" said I.  (You will excuse the frankness of this report,\nwill you not, sir?)  \"He'd never forgive me for leaving such\nunexhausted copy behind me.  Besides, so far as I can see it is not\nworth discussing, since we can't get down, even if we wanted.\"\n\n\"Our young friend makes up for many obvious mental lacunae by some\nmeasure of primitive common sense,\" remarked Challenger.  \"The\ninterests of his deplorable profession are immaterial to us; but, as he\nobserves, we cannot get down in any case, so it is a waste of energy to\ndiscuss it.\"\n\n\"It is a waste of energy to do anything else,\" growled Summerlee from\nbehind his pipe.  \"Let me remind you that we came here upon a perfectly\ndefinite mission, entrusted to us at the meeting of the Zoological\nInstitute in London.  That mission was to test the truth of Professor\nChallenger's statements.  Those statements, as I am bound to admit, we\nare now in a position to endorse.  Our ostensible work is therefore\ndone.  As to the detail which remains to be worked out upon this\nplateau, it is so enormous that only a large expedition, with a very\nspecial equipment, could hope to cope with it.  Should we attempt to do\nso ourselves, the only possible result must be that we shall never\nreturn with the important contribution to science which we have already\ngained.  Professor Challenger has devised means for getting us on to\nthis plateau when it appeared to be inaccessible; I think that we\nshould now call upon him to use the same ingenuity in getting us back\nto the world from which we came.\"\n\nI confess that as Summerlee stated his view it struck me as altogether\nreasonable.  Even Challenger was affected by the consideration that his\nenemies would never stand confuted if the confirmation of his\nstatements should never reach those who had doubted them.\n\n\"The problem of the descent is at first sight a formidable one,\" said\nhe, \"and yet I cannot doubt that the intellect can solve it.  I am\nprepared to agree with our colleague that a protracted stay in Maple\nWhite Land is at present inadvisable, and that the question of our\nreturn will soon have to be faced.  I absolutely refuse to leave,\nhowever, until we have made at least a superficial examination of this\ncountry, and are able to take back with us something in the nature of a\nchart.\"\n\nProfessor Summerlee gave a snort of impatience.\n\n\"We have spent two long days in exploration,\" said he, \"and we are no\nwiser as to the actual geography of the place than when we started.  It\nis clear that it is all thickly wooded, and it would take months to\npenetrate it and to learn the relations of one part to another.  If\nthere were some central peak it would be different, but it all slopes\ndownwards, so far as we can see.  The farther we go the less likely it\nis that we will get any general view.\"\n\nIt was at that moment that I had my inspiration.  My eyes chanced to\nlight upon the enormous gnarled trunk of the gingko tree which cast its\nhuge branches over us.  Surely, if its bole exceeded that of all\nothers, its height must do the same.  If the rim of the plateau was\nindeed the highest point, then why should this mighty tree not prove to\nbe a watchtower which commanded the whole country?  Now, ever since I\nran wild as a lad in Ireland I have been a bold and skilled\ntree-climber.  My comrades might be my masters on the rocks, but I knew\nthat I would be supreme among those branches.  Could I only get my legs\non to the lowest of the giant off-shoots, then it would be strange\nindeed if I could not make my way to the top.  My comrades were\ndelighted at my idea.\n\n\"Our young friend,\" said Challenger, bunching up the red apples of his\ncheeks, \"is capable of acrobatic exertions which would be impossible to\na man of a more solid, though possibly of a more commanding,\nappearance.  I applaud his resolution.\"\n\n\"By George, young fellah, you've put your hand on it!\" said Lord John,\nclapping me on the back.  \"How we never came to think of it before I\ncan't imagine!  There's not more than an hour of daylight left, but if\nyou take your notebook you may be able to get some rough sketch of the\nplace.  If we put these three ammunition cases under the branch, I will\nsoon hoist you on to it.\"\n\nHe stood on the boxes while I faced the trunk, and was gently raising\nme when Challenger sprang forward and gave me such a thrust with his\nhuge hand that he fairly shot me into the tree.  With both arms\nclasping the branch, I scrambled  hard with my feet until I had worked,\nfirst my body, and then my knees, onto it.  There were three excellent\noff-shoots, like huge rungs of a ladder, above my head, and a tangle of\nconvenient branches beyond, so that I clambered onwards with such speed\nthat I soon lost sight of the ground and had nothing but foliage\nbeneath me.  Now and then I encountered a check, and once I had to shin\nup a creeper for eight or ten feet, but I made excellent progress, and\nthe booming of Challenger's voice seemed to be a great distance beneath\nme. The tree was, however, enormous, and, looking upwards, I could see\nno thinning of the leaves above my head.  There was some thick,\nbush-like clump which seemed to be a parasite upon a branch up which I\nwas swarming.  I leaned my head round it in order to see what was\nbeyond, and I nearly fell out of the tree in my surprise and horror at\nwhat I saw.\n\nA face was gazing into mine--at the distance of only a foot or two.\nThe creature that owned it had been crouching behind the parasite, and\nhad looked round it at the same instant that I did.  It was a human\nface--or at least it was far more human than any monkey's that I have\never seen.  It was long, whitish, and blotched with pimples, the nose\nflattened, and the lower jaw projecting, with a bristle of coarse\nwhiskers round the chin.  The eyes, which were under thick and heavy\nbrows, were bestial and ferocious, and as it opened its mouth to snarl\nwhat sounded like a curse at me I observed that it had curved, sharp\ncanine teeth.  For an instant I read hatred and menace in the evil\neyes.  Then, as quick as a flash, came an expression of overpowering\nfear.  There was a crash of broken boughs as it dived wildly down into\nthe tangle of green.  I caught a glimpse of a hairy body like that of a\nreddish pig, and then it was gone amid a swirl of leaves and branches.\n\n\"What's the matter?\" shouted Roxton from below.  \"Anything wrong with\nyou?\"\n\n\"Did you see it?\" I cried, with my arms round the branch and all my\nnerves tingling.\n\n\"We heard a row, as if your foot had slipped.  What was it?\"\n\nI was so shocked at the sudden and strange appearance of this ape-man\nthat I hesitated whether I should not climb down again and tell my\nexperience to my companions.  But I was already so far up the great\ntree that it seemed a humiliation to return without having carried out\nmy mission.\n\nAfter a long pause, therefore, to recover my breath and my courage, I\ncontinued my ascent.  Once I put my weight upon a rotten branch and\nswung for a few seconds by my hands, but in the main it was all easy\nclimbing.  Gradually the leaves thinned around me, and I was aware,\nfrom the wind upon my face, that I had topped all the trees of the\nforest.  I was determined, however, not to look about me before I had\nreached the very highest point, so I scrambled on until I had got so\nfar that the topmost branch was bending beneath my weight.  There I\nsettled into a convenient fork, and, balancing myself securely, I found\nmyself looking down at a most wonderful panorama of this strange\ncountry in which we found ourselves.\n\nThe sun was just above the western sky-line, and the evening was a\nparticularly bright and clear one, so that the whole extent of the\nplateau was visible beneath me.  It was, as seen from this height, of\nan oval contour, with a breadth of about thirty miles and a width of\ntwenty.  Its general shape was that of a shallow funnel, all the sides\nsloping down to a considerable lake in the center.  This lake may have\nbeen ten miles in circumference, and lay very green and beautiful in\nthe evening light, with a thick fringe of reeds at its edges, and with\nits surface broken by several yellow sandbanks, which gleamed golden in\nthe mellow sunshine.  A number of long dark objects, which were too\nlarge for alligators and too long for canoes, lay upon the edges of\nthese patches of sand.  With my glass I could clearly see that they\nwere alive, but what their nature might be I could not imagine.\n\nFrom the side of the plateau on which we were, slopes of woodland, with\noccasional glades, stretched down for five or six miles to the central\nlake.  I could see at my very feet the glade of the iguanodons, and\nfarther off was a round opening in the trees which marked the swamp of\nthe pterodactyls.  On the side facing me, however, the plateau\npresented a very different aspect.  There the basalt cliffs of the\noutside were reproduced upon the inside, forming an escarpment about\ntwo hundred feet high, with a woody slope beneath it.  Along the base\nof these red cliffs, some distance above the ground, I could see a\nnumber of dark holes through the glass, which I conjectured to be the\nmouths of caves.  At the opening of one of these something white was\nshimmering, but I was unable to make out what it was.  I sat charting\nthe country until the sun had set and it was so dark that I could no\nlonger distinguish details.  Then I climbed down to my companions\nwaiting for me so eagerly at the bottom of the great tree.  For once I\nwas the hero of the expedition.  Alone I had thought of it, and alone I\nhad done it; and here was the chart which would save us a month's blind\ngroping among unknown dangers.  Each of them shook me solemnly by the\nhand.\n\nBut before they discussed the details of my map I had to tell them of\nmy encounter with the ape-man among the branches.\n\n\"He has been there all the time,\" said I.\n\n\"How do you know that?\" asked Lord John.\n\n\"Because I have never been without that feeling that something\nmalevolent was watching us. I mentioned it to you, Professor\nChallenger.\"\n\n\"Our young friend certainly said something of the kind.  He is also the\none among us who is endowed with that Celtic temperament which would\nmake him sensitive to such impressions.\"\n\n\"The whole theory of telepathy----\" began Summerlee, filling his pipe.\n\n\"Is too vast to be now discussed,\" said Challenger, with decision.\n\"Tell me, now,\" he added, with the air of a bishop addressing a\nSunday-school, \"did you happen to observe whether the creature could\ncross its thumb over its palm?\"\n\n\"No, indeed.\"\n\n\"Had it a tail?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Was the foot prehensile?\"\n\n\"I do not think it could have made off so fast among the branches if it\ncould not get a grip with its feet.\"\n\n\"In South America there are, if my memory serves me--you will check the\nobservation, Professor Summerlee--some thirty-six species of monkeys,\nbut the anthropoid ape is unknown.  It is clear, however, that he\nexists in this country, and that he is not the hairy, gorilla-like\nvariety, which is never seen out of Africa or the East.\"  (I was\ninclined to interpolate, as I looked at him, that I had seen his first\ncousin in Kensington.)  \"This is a whiskered and colorless type, the\nlatter characteristic pointing to the fact that he spends his days in\narboreal seclusion.  The question which we have to face is whether he\napproaches more closely to the ape or the man.  In the latter case, he\nmay well approximate to what the vulgar have called the 'missing link.'\nThe solution of this problem is our immediate duty.\"\n\n\"It is nothing of the sort,\" said Summerlee, abruptly.  \"Now that,\nthrough the intelligence and activity of Mr. Malone\" (I cannot help\nquoting the words), \"we have got our chart, our one and only immediate\nduty is to get ourselves safe and sound out of this awful place.\"\n\n\"The flesh-pots of civilization,\" groaned Challenger.\n\n\"The ink-pots of civilization, sir.  It is our task to put on record\nwhat we have seen, and to leave the further exploration to others.  You\nall agreed as much before Mr. Malone got us the chart.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Challenger, \"I admit that my mind will be more at ease\nwhen I am assured that the result of our expedition has been conveyed\nto our friends.  How we are to get down from this place I have not as\nyet an idea.  I have never yet encountered any problem, however, which\nmy inventive brain was unable to solve, and I promise you that\nto-morrow I will turn my attention to the question of our descent.\"\nAnd so the matter was allowed to rest.\n\nBut that evening, by the light of the fire and of a single candle, the\nfirst map of the lost world was elaborated.  Every detail which I had\nroughly noted from my watch-tower was drawn out in its relative place.\nChallenger's pencil hovered over the great blank which marked the lake.\n\n\"What shall we call it?\" he asked.\n\n\"Why should you not take the chance of perpetuating your own name?\"\nsaid Summerlee, with his usual touch of acidity.\n\n\"I trust, sir, that my name will have other and more personal claims\nupon posterity,\" said Challenger, severely.  \"Any ignoramus can hand\ndown his worthless memory by imposing it upon a mountain or a river.  I\nneed no such monument.\"\n\nSummerlee, with a twisted smile, was about to make some fresh assault\nwhen Lord John hastened to intervene.\n\n\"It's up to you, young fellah, to name the lake,\" said he.  \"You saw it\nfirst, and, by George, if you choose to put 'Lake Malone' on it, no one\nhas a better right.\"\n\n\"By all means.  Let our young friend give it a name,\" said Challenger.\n\n\"Then,\" said I, blushing, I dare say, as I said it, \"let it be named\nLake Gladys.\"\n\n\"Don't you think the Central Lake would be more descriptive?\" remarked\nSummerlee.\n\n\"I should prefer Lake Gladys.\"\n\nChallenger looked at me sympathetically, and shook his great head in\nmock disapproval.  \"Boys will be boys,\" said he.  \"Lake Gladys let it\nbe.\"\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER XII\n\n                \"It was Dreadful in the Forest\"\n\nI have said--or perhaps I have not said, for my memory plays me sad\ntricks these days--that I glowed with pride when three such men as my\ncomrades thanked me for having saved, or at least greatly helped, the\nsituation.  As the youngster of the party, not merely in years, but in\nexperience, character, knowledge, and all that goes to make a man, I\nhad been overshadowed from the first.  And now I was coming into my\nown.  I warmed at the thought.  Alas! for the pride which goes before a\nfall!  That little glow of self-satisfaction, that added measure of\nself-confidence, were to lead me on that very night to the most\ndreadful experience of my life, ending with a shock which turns my\nheart sick when I think of it.\n\nIt came about in this way.  I had been unduly excited by the adventure\nof the tree, and sleep seemed to be impossible.  Summerlee was on\nguard, sitting hunched over our small fire, a quaint, angular figure,\nhis rifle across his knees and his pointed, goat-like beard wagging\nwith each weary nod of his head.  Lord John lay silent, wrapped in the\nSouth American poncho which he wore, while Challenger snored with a\nroll and rattle which reverberated through the woods.  The full moon\nwas shining brightly, and the air was crisply cold.  What a night for a\nwalk!  And then suddenly came the thought, \"Why not?\"  Suppose I stole\nsoftly away, suppose I made my way down to the central lake, suppose I\nwas back at breakfast with some record of the place--would I not in\nthat case be thought an even more worthy associate?  Then, if Summerlee\ncarried the day and some means of escape were found, we should return\nto London with first-hand knowledge of the central mystery of the\nplateau, to which I alone, of all men, would have penetrated.  I thought\nof Gladys, with her \"There are heroisms all round us.\"  I seemed to hear\nher voice as she said it.  I thought also of McArdle.  What a three\ncolumn article for the paper!  What a foundation for a career!  A\ncorrespondentship in the next great war might be within my reach.  I\nclutched at a gun--my pockets were full of cartridges--and, parting the\nthorn bushes at the gate of our zareba, quickly slipped out.  My last\nglance showed me the unconscious Summerlee, most futile of sentinels,\nstill nodding away like a queer mechanical toy in front of the\nsmouldering fire.\n\nI had not gone a hundred yards before I deeply repented my rashness.  I\nmay have said somewhere in this chronicle that I am too imaginative to\nbe a really courageous man, but that I have an overpowering fear of\nseeming afraid.  This was the power which now carried me onwards.  I\nsimply could not slink back with nothing done.  Even if my comrades\nshould not have missed me, and should never know of my weakness, there\nwould still remain some intolerable self-shame in my own soul.  And yet\nI shuddered at the position in which I found myself, and would have\ngiven all I possessed at that moment to have been honorably free of the\nwhole business.\n\nIt was dreadful in the forest.  The trees grew so thickly and their\nfoliage spread so widely that I could see nothing of the moon-light\nsave that here and there the high branches made a tangled filigree\nagainst the starry sky.  As the eyes became more used to the obscurity\none learned that there were different degrees of darkness among the\ntrees--that some were dimly visible, while between and among them there\nwere coal-black shadowed patches, like the mouths of caves, from which\nI shrank in horror as I passed.  I thought of the despairing yell of\nthe tortured iguanodon--that dreadful cry which had echoed through the\nwoods.  I thought, too, of the glimpse I had in the light of Lord\nJohn's torch of that bloated, warty, blood-slavering muzzle.  Even now\nI was on its hunting-ground.  At any instant it might spring upon me\nfrom the shadows--this nameless and horrible monster.  I stopped, and,\npicking a cartridge from my pocket, I opened the breech of my gun.  As\nI touched the lever my heart leaped within me.  It was the shot-gun,\nnot the rifle, which I had taken!\n\nAgain the impulse to return swept over me.  Here, surely, was a most\nexcellent reason for my failure--one for which no one would think the\nless of me.  But again the foolish pride fought against that very word.\nI could not--must not--fail.  After all, my rifle would probably have\nbeen as useless as a shot-gun against such dangers as I might meet.  If\nI were to go back to camp to change my weapon I could hardly expect to\nenter and to leave again without being seen.  In that case there would\nbe explanations, and my attempt would no longer be all my own.  After a\nlittle hesitation, then, I screwed up my courage and continued upon my\nway, my useless gun under my arm.\n\nThe darkness of the forest had been alarming, but even worse was the\nwhite, still flood of moonlight in the open glade of the iguanodons.\nHid among the bushes, I looked out at it.  None of the great brutes\nwere in sight.  Perhaps the tragedy which had befallen one of them had\ndriven them from their feeding-ground.  In the misty, silvery night I\ncould see no sign of any living thing.  Taking courage, therefore, I\nslipped rapidly across it, and among the jungle on the farther side I\npicked up once again the brook which was my guide.  It was a cheery\ncompanion, gurgling and chuckling as it ran, like the dear old\ntrout-stream in the West Country where I have fished at night in my\nboyhood.  So long as I followed it down I must come to the lake, and so\nlong as I followed it back I must come to the camp.  Often I had to\nlose sight of it on account of the tangled brush-wood, but I was always\nwithin earshot of its tinkle and splash.\n\nAs one descended the slope the woods became thinner, and bushes, with\noccasional high trees, took the place of the forest.  I could make good\nprogress, therefore, and I could see without being seen.  I passed\nclose to the pterodactyl swamp, and as I did so, with a dry, crisp,\nleathery rattle of wings, one of these great creatures--it was twenty\nfeet at least from tip to tip--rose up from somewhere near me and\nsoared into the air.  As it passed across the face of the moon the\nlight shone clearly through the membranous wings, and it looked like a\nflying skeleton against the white, tropical radiance.  I crouched low\namong the bushes, for I knew from past experience that with a single\ncry the creature could bring a hundred of its loathsome mates about my\nears.  It was not until it had settled again that I dared to steal\nonwards upon my journey.\n\nThe night had been exceedingly still, but as I advanced I became\nconscious of a low, rumbling sound, a continuous murmur, somewhere in\nfront of me.  This grew louder as I proceeded, until at last it was\nclearly quite close to me.  When I stood still the sound was constant,\nso that it seemed to come from some stationary cause.  It was like a\nboiling kettle or the bubbling of some great pot.  Soon I came upon the\nsource of it, for in the center of a small clearing I found a lake--or\na pool, rather, for it was not larger than the basin of the Trafalgar\nSquare fountain--of some black, pitch-like stuff, the surface of which\nrose and fell in great blisters of bursting gas.  The air above it was\nshimmering with heat, and the ground round was so hot that I could\nhardly bear to lay my hand on it.  It was clear that the great volcanic\noutburst which had raised this strange plateau so many years ago had\nnot yet entirely spent its forces.  Blackened rocks and mounds of lava\nI had already seen everywhere peeping out from amid the luxuriant\nvegetation which draped them, but this asphalt pool in the jungle was\nthe first sign that we had of actual existing activity on the slopes of\nthe ancient crater.  I had no time to examine it further for I had need\nto hurry if I were to be back in camp in the morning.\n\nIt was a fearsome walk, and one which will be with me so long as memory\nholds.  In the great moonlight clearings I slunk along among the\nshadows on the margin.  In the jungle I crept forward, stopping with a\nbeating heart whenever I heard, as I often did, the crash of breaking\nbranches as some wild beast went past.  Now and then great shadows\nloomed up for an instant and were gone--great, silent shadows which\nseemed to prowl upon padded feet.  How often I stopped with the\nintention of returning, and yet every time my pride conquered my fear,\nand sent me on again until my object should be attained.\n\nAt last (my watch showed that it was one in the morning) I saw the\ngleam of water amid the openings of the jungle, and ten minutes later I\nwas among the reeds upon the borders of the central lake.  I was\nexceedingly dry, so I lay down and took a long draught of its waters,\nwhich were fresh and cold.  There was a broad pathway with many tracks\nupon it at the spot which I had found, so that it was clearly one of\nthe drinking-places of the animals.  Close to the water's edge there\nwas a huge isolated block of lava.  Up this I climbed, and, lying on\nthe top, I had an excellent view in every direction.\n\nThe first thing which I saw filled me with amazement.  When I described\nthe view from the summit of the great tree, I said that on the farther\ncliff I could see a number of dark spots, which appeared to be the\nmouths of caves.  Now, as I looked up at the same cliffs, I saw discs\nof light in every direction, ruddy, clearly-defined patches, like the\nport-holes of a liner in the darkness.  For a moment I thought it was\nthe lava-glow from some volcanic action; but this could not be so.  Any\nvolcanic action would surely be down in the hollow and not high among\nthe rocks.  What, then, was the alternative?  It was wonderful, and yet\nit must surely be.  These ruddy spots must be the reflection of fires\nwithin the caves--fires which could only be lit by the hand of man.\nThere were human beings, then, upon the plateau.  How gloriously my\nexpedition was justified!  Here was news indeed for us to bear back\nwith us to London!\n\nFor a long time I lay and watched these red, quivering blotches of\nlight.  I suppose they were ten miles off from me, yet even at that\ndistance one could observe how, from time to time, they twinkled or\nwere obscured as someone passed before them.  What would I not have\ngiven to be able to crawl up to them, to peep in, and to take back some\nword to my comrades as to the appearance and character of the race who\nlived in so strange a place!  It was out of the question for the\nmoment, and yet surely we could not leave the plateau until we had some\ndefinite knowledge upon the point.\n\nLake Gladys--my own lake--lay like a sheet of quicksilver before me,\nwith a reflected moon shining brightly in the center of it.  It was\nshallow, for in many places I saw low sandbanks protruding above the\nwater.  Everywhere upon the still surface I could see signs of life,\nsometimes mere rings and ripples in the water, sometimes the gleam of a\ngreat silver-sided fish in the air, sometimes the arched, slate-colored\nback of some passing monster.  Once upon a yellow sandbank I saw a\ncreature like a huge swan, with a clumsy body and a high, flexible\nneck, shuffling about upon the margin.  Presently it plunged in, and\nfor some time I could see the arched neck and darting head undulating\nover the water.  Then it dived, and I saw it no more.\n\nMy attention was soon drawn away from these distant sights and brought\nback to what was going on at my very feet.  Two creatures like large\narmadillos had come down to the drinking-place, and were squatting at\nthe edge of the water, their long, flexible tongues like red ribbons\nshooting in and out as they lapped.  A huge deer, with branching horns,\na magnificent creature which carried itself like a king, came down with\nits doe and two fawns and drank beside the armadillos.  No such deer\nexist anywhere else upon earth, for the moose or elks which I have seen\nwould hardly have reached its shoulders.  Presently it gave a warning\nsnort, and was off with its family among the reeds, while the\narmadillos also scuttled for shelter.  A new-comer, a most monstrous\nanimal, was coming down the path.\n\nFor a moment I wondered where I could have seen that ungainly shape,\nthat arched back with triangular fringes along it, that strange\nbird-like head held close to the ground.  Then it came back, to me.  It\nwas the stegosaurus--the very creature which Maple White had preserved\nin his sketch-book, and which had been the first object which arrested\nthe attention of Challenger!  There he was--perhaps the very specimen\nwhich the American artist had encountered.  The ground shook beneath\nhis tremendous weight, and his gulpings of water resounded through the\nstill night.  For five minutes he was so close to my rock that by\nstretching out my hand I could have touched the hideous waving hackles\nupon his back.  Then he lumbered away and was lost among the boulders.\n\nLooking at my watch, I saw that it was half-past two o'clock, and high\ntime, therefore, that I started upon my homeward journey.  There was no\ndifficulty about the direction in which I should return for all along I\nhad kept the little brook upon my left, and it opened into the central\nlake within a stone's-throw of the boulder upon which I had been lying.\nI set off, therefore, in high spirits, for I felt that I had done good\nwork and was bringing back a fine budget of news for my companions.\nForemost of all, of course, were the sight of the fiery caves and the\ncertainty that some troglodytic race inhabited them.  But besides that\nI could speak from experience of the central lake.  I could testify\nthat it was full of strange creatures, and I had seen several land\nforms of primeval life which we had not before encountered.  I\nreflected as I walked that few men in the world could have spent a\nstranger night or added more to human knowledge in the course of it.\n\nI was plodding up the slope, turning these thoughts over in my mind,\nand had reached a point which may have been half-way to home, when my\nmind was brought back to my own position by a strange noise behind me.\nIt was something between a snore and a growl, low, deep, and\nexceedingly menacing.  Some strange creature was evidently near me, but\nnothing could be seen, so I hastened more rapidly upon my way.  I had\ntraversed half a mile or so when suddenly the sound was repeated, still\nbehind me, but louder and more menacing than before.  My heart stood\nstill within me as it flashed across me that the beast, whatever it\nwas, must surely be after ME.   My skin grew cold and my hair rose at\nthe thought.  That these monsters should tear each other to pieces was\na part of the strange struggle for existence, but that they should turn\nupon modern man, that they should deliberately track and hunt down the\npredominant human, was a staggering and fearsome thought.  I remembered\nagain the blood-beslobbered face which we had seen in the glare of Lord\nJohn's torch, like some horrible vision from the deepest circle of\nDante's hell.  With my knees shaking beneath me, I stood and glared\nwith starting eyes down the moonlit path which lay behind me.  All was\nquiet as in a dream landscape.  Silver clearings and the black patches\nof the bushes--nothing else could I see.  Then from out of the silence,\nimminent and threatening, there came once more that low, throaty\ncroaking, far louder and closer than before.  There could no longer be\na doubt.  Something was on my trail, and was closing in upon me every\nminute.\n\nI stood like a man paralyzed, still staring at the ground which I had\ntraversed.  Then suddenly I saw it.  There was movement among the\nbushes at the far end of the clearing which I had just traversed.  A\ngreat dark shadow disengaged itself and hopped out into the clear\nmoonlight.  I say \"hopped\" advisedly, for the beast moved like a\nkangaroo, springing along in an erect position upon its powerful hind\nlegs, while its front ones were held bent in front of it.  It was of\nenormous size and power, like an erect elephant, but its movements, in\nspite of its bulk, were exceedingly alert.  For a moment, as I saw its\nshape, I hoped that it was an iguanodon, which I knew to be harmless,\nbut, ignorant as I was, I soon saw that this was a very different\ncreature.  Instead of the gentle, deer-shaped head of the great\nthree-toed leaf-eater, this beast had a broad, squat, toad-like face\nlike that which had alarmed us in our camp.  His ferocious cry and the\nhorrible energy of his pursuit both assured me that this was surely one\nof the great flesh-eating dinosaurs, the most terrible beasts which\nhave ever walked this earth.  As the huge brute loped along it dropped\nforward upon its fore-paws and brought its nose to the ground every\ntwenty yards or so.  It was smelling out my trail.  Sometimes, for an\ninstant, it was at fault.  Then it would catch it up again and come\nbounding swiftly along the path I had taken.\n\nEven now when I think of that nightmare the sweat breaks out upon my\nbrow.  What could I do?  My useless fowling-piece was in my hand.  What\nhelp could I get from that?  I looked desperately round for some rock\nor tree, but I was in a bushy jungle with nothing higher than a sapling\nwithin sight, while I knew that the creature behind me could tear down\nan ordinary tree as though it were a reed.  My only possible chance lay\nin flight.  I could not move swiftly over the rough, broken ground, but\nas I looked round me in despair I saw a well-marked, hard-beaten path\nwhich ran across in front of me.  We had seen several of the sort, the\nruns of various wild beasts, during our expeditions.  Along this I\ncould perhaps hold my own, for I was a fast runner, and in excellent\ncondition.  Flinging away my useless gun, I set myself to do such a\nhalf-mile as I have never done before or since.  My limbs ached, my\nchest heaved, I felt that my throat would burst for want of air, and\nyet with that horror behind me I ran and I ran and ran.  At last I\npaused, hardly able to move.  For a moment I thought that I had thrown\nhim off.  The path lay still behind me.  And then suddenly, with a\ncrashing and a rending, a thudding of giant feet and a panting of\nmonster lungs the beast was upon me once more.  He was at my very\nheels.  I was lost.\n\nMadman that I was to linger so long before I fled!  Up to then he had\nhunted by scent, and his movement was slow.  But he had actually seen\nme as I started to run.  From then onwards he had hunted by sight, for\nthe path showed him where I had gone.  Now, as he came round the curve,\nhe was springing in great bounds.  The moonlight shone upon his huge\nprojecting eyes, the row of enormous teeth in his open mouth, and the\ngleaming fringe of claws upon his short, powerful forearms.  With a\nscream of terror I turned and rushed wildly down the path.  Behind me\nthe thick, gasping breathing of the creature sounded louder and louder.\nHis heavy footfall was beside me.  Every instant I expected to feel his\ngrip upon my back.  And then suddenly there came a crash--I was falling\nthrough space, and everything beyond was darkness and rest.\n\nAs I emerged from my unconsciousness--which could not, I think, have\nlasted more than a few minutes--I was aware of a most dreadful and\npenetrating smell.  Putting out my hand in the darkness I came upon\nsomething which felt like a huge lump of meat, while my other hand\nclosed upon a large bone.  Up above me there was a circle of starlit\nsky, which showed me that I was lying at the bottom of a deep pit.\nSlowly I staggered to my feet and felt myself all over.  I was stiff\nand sore from head to foot, but there was no limb which would not move,\nno joint which would not bend.  As the circumstances of my fall came\nback into my confused brain, I looked up in terror, expecting to see\nthat dreadful head silhouetted against the paling sky.  There was no\nsign of the monster, however, nor could I hear any sound from above.  I\nbegan to walk slowly round, therefore, feeling in every direction to\nfind out what this strange place could be into which I had been so\nopportunely precipitated.\n\nIt was, as I have said, a pit, with sharply-sloping walls and a level\nbottom about twenty feet across.  This bottom was littered with great\ngobbets of flesh, most of which was in the last state of putridity.\nThe atmosphere was poisonous and horrible.  After tripping and\nstumbling over these lumps of decay, I came suddenly against something\nhard, and I found that an upright post was firmly fixed in the center\nof the hollow.  It was so high that I could not reach the top of it\nwith my hand, and it appeared to be covered with grease.\n\nSuddenly I remembered that I had a tin box of wax-vestas in my pocket.\nStriking one of them, I was able at last to form some opinion of this\nplace into which I had fallen.  There could be no question as to its\nnature.  It was a trap--made by the hand of man.  The post in the\ncenter, some nine feet long, was sharpened at the upper end, and was\nblack with the stale blood of the creatures who had been impaled upon\nit.  The remains scattered about were fragments of the victims, which\nhad been cut away in order to clear the stake for the next who might\nblunder in.  I remembered that Challenger had declared that man could\nnot exist upon the plateau, since with his feeble weapons he could not\nhold his own against the monsters who roamed over it.  But now it was\nclear enough how it could be done.  In their narrow-mouthed caves the\nnatives, whoever they might be, had refuges into which the huge\nsaurians could not penetrate, while with their developed brains they\nwere capable of setting such traps, covered with branches, across the\npaths which marked the run of the animals as would destroy them in\nspite of all their strength and activity.  Man was always the master.\n\nThe sloping wall of the pit was not difficult for an active man to\nclimb, but I hesitated long before I trusted myself within reach of the\ndreadful creature which had so nearly destroyed me.  How did I know\nthat he was not lurking in the nearest clump of bushes, waiting for my\nreappearance?  I took heart, however, as I recalled a conversation\nbetween Challenger and Summerlee upon the habits of the great saurians.\nBoth were agreed that the monsters were practically brainless, that\nthere was no room for reason in their tiny cranial cavities, and that\nif they have disappeared from the rest of the world it was assuredly on\naccount of their own stupidity, which made it impossible for them to\nadapt themselves to changing conditions.\n\nTo lie in wait for me now would mean that the creature had appreciated\nwhat had happened to me, and this in turn would argue some power\nconnecting cause and effect.  Surely it was more likely that a\nbrainless creature, acting solely by vague predatory instinct, would\ngive up the chase when I disappeared, and, after a pause of\nastonishment, would wander away in search of some other prey?  I\nclambered to the edge of the pit and looked over.  The stars were\nfading, the sky was whitening, and the cold wind of morning blew\npleasantly upon my face.  I could see or hear nothing of my enemy.\nSlowly I climbed out and sat for a while upon the ground, ready to\nspring back into my refuge if any danger should appear.  Then,\nreassured by the absolute stillness and by the growing light, I took my\ncourage in both hands and stole back along the path which I had come.\nSome distance down it I picked up my gun, and shortly afterwards struck\nthe brook which was my guide.  So, with many a frightened backward\nglance, I made for home.\n\nAnd suddenly there came something to remind me of my absent companions.\nIn the clear, still morning air there sounded far away the sharp, hard\nnote of a single rifle-shot.  I paused and listened, but there was\nnothing more.  For a moment I was shocked at the thought that some\nsudden danger might have befallen them.  But then a simpler and more\nnatural explanation came to my mind.  It was now broad daylight.  No\ndoubt my absence had been noticed.  They had imagined, that I was lost\nin the woods, and had fired this shot to guide me home.  It is true\nthat we had made a strict resolution against firing, but if it seemed\nto them that I might be in danger they would not hesitate.  It was for\nme now to hurry on as fast as possible, and so to reassure them.\n\nI was weary and spent, so my progress was not so fast as I wished; but\nat last I came into regions which I knew.  There was the swamp of the\npterodactyls upon my left; there in front of me was the glade of the\niguanodons.  Now I was in the last belt of trees which separated me\nfrom Fort Challenger.  I raised my voice in a cheery shout to allay\ntheir fears.  No answering greeting came back to me.  My heart sank at\nthat ominous stillness.  I quickened my pace into a run.  The zareba\nrose before me, even as I had left it, but the gate was open.  I rushed\nin.  In the cold, morning light it was a fearful sight which met my\neyes.  Our effects were scattered in wild confusion over the ground; my\ncomrades had disappeared, and close to the smouldering ashes of our\nfire the grass was stained crimson with a hideous pool of blood.\n\nI was so stunned by this sudden shock that for a time I must have\nnearly lost my reason.  I have a vague recollection, as one remembers a\nbad dream, of rushing about through the woods all round the empty camp,\ncalling wildly for my companions.  No answer came back from the silent\nshadows.  The horrible thought that I might never see them again, that\nI might find myself abandoned all alone in that dreadful place, with no\npossible way of descending into the world below, that I might live and\ndie in that nightmare country, drove me to desperation.  I could have\ntorn my hair and beaten my head in my despair.  Only now did I realize\nhow I had learned to lean upon my companions, upon the serene\nself-confidence of Challenger, and upon the masterful, humorous\ncoolness of Lord John Roxton.  Without them I was like a child in the\ndark, helpless and powerless.  I did not know which way to turn or what\nI should do first.\n\nAfter a period, during which I sat in bewilderment, I set myself to try\nand discover what sudden misfortune could have befallen my companions.\nThe whole disordered appearance of the camp showed that there had been\nsome sort of attack, and the rifle-shot no doubt marked the time when\nit had occurred.  That there should have been only one shot showed that\nit had been all over in an instant.  The rifles still lay upon the\nground, and one of them--Lord John's--had the empty cartridge in the\nbreech.  The blankets of Challenger and of Summerlee beside the fire\nsuggested that they had been asleep at the time.  The cases of\nammunition and of food were scattered about in a wild litter, together\nwith our unfortunate cameras and plate-carriers, but none of them were\nmissing.  On the other hand, all the exposed provisions--and I\nremembered that there were a considerable quantity of them--were gone.\nThey were animals, then, and not natives, who had made the inroad, for\nsurely the latter would have left nothing behind.\n\nBut if animals, or some single terrible animal, then what had become of\nmy comrades?  A ferocious beast would surely have destroyed them and\nleft their remains.  It is true that there was that one hideous pool of\nblood, which told of violence.  Such a monster as had pursued me during\nthe night could have carried away a victim as easily as a cat would a\nmouse.  In that case the others would have followed in pursuit.  But\nthen they would assuredly have taken their rifles with them.  The more\nI tried to think it out with my confused and weary brain the less could\nI find any plausible explanation.  I searched round in the forest, but\ncould see no tracks which could help me to a conclusion.  Once I lost\nmyself, and it was only by good luck, and after an hour of wandering,\nthat I found the camp once more.\n\nSuddenly a thought came to me and brought some little comfort to my\nheart.  I was not absolutely alone in the world.  Down at the bottom of\nthe cliff, and within call of me, was waiting the faithful Zambo.  I\nwent to the edge of the plateau and looked over.  Sure enough, he was\nsquatting among his blankets beside his fire in his little camp.  But,\nto my amazement, a second man was seated in front of him.  For an\ninstant my heart leaped for joy, as I thought that one of my comrades\nhad made his way safely down.  But a second glance dispelled the hope.\nThe rising sun shone red upon the man's skin.  He was an Indian.  I\nshouted loudly and waved my handkerchief.  Presently Zambo looked up,\nwaved his hand, and turned to ascend the pinnacle.  In a short time he\nwas standing close to me and listening with deep distress to the story\nwhich I told him.\n\n\"Devil got them for sure, Massa Malone,\" said he.  \"You got into the\ndevil's country, sah, and he take you all to himself.  You take advice,\nMassa Malone, and come down quick, else he get you as well.\"\n\n\"How can I come down, Zambo?\"\n\n\"You get creepers from trees, Massa Malone.  Throw them over here.  I\nmake fast to this stump, and so you have bridge.\"\n\n\"We have thought of that.  There are no creepers here which could bear\nus.\"\n\n\"Send for ropes, Massa Malone.\"\n\n\"Who can I send, and where?\"\n\n\"Send to Indian villages, sah.  Plenty hide rope in Indian village.\nIndian down below; send him.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\n\n\"One of our Indians.  Other ones beat him and take away his pay.  He\ncome back to us.  Ready now to take letter, bring rope,--anything.\"\n\nTo take a letter!  Why not?  Perhaps he might bring help; but in any\ncase he would ensure that our lives were not spent for nothing, and\nthat news of all that we had won for Science should reach our friends\nat home.  I had two completed letters already waiting.  I would spend\nthe day in writing a third, which would bring my experiences absolutely\nup to date.  The Indian could bear this back to the world.  I ordered\nZambo, therefore, to come again in the evening, and I spent my\nmiserable and lonely day in recording my own adventures of the night\nbefore.  I also drew up a note, to be given to any white merchant or\ncaptain of a steam-boat whom the Indian could find, imploring them to\nsee that ropes were sent to us, since our lives must depend upon it.\nThese documents I threw to Zambo in the evening, and also my purse,\nwhich contained three English sovereigns.  These were to be given to\nthe Indian, and he was promised twice as much if he returned with the\nropes.\n\nSo now you will understand, my dear Mr. McArdle, how this communication\nreaches you, and you will also know the truth, in case you never hear\nagain from your unfortunate correspondent.  To-night I am too weary and\ntoo depressed to make my plans.  To-morrow I must think out some way by\nwhich I shall keep in touch with this camp, and yet search round for\nany traces of my unhappy friends.\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER XIII\n\n               \"A Sight which I shall Never Forget\"\n\nJust as the sun was setting upon that melancholy night I saw the lonely\nfigure of the Indian upon the vast plain beneath me, and I watched him,\nour one faint hope of salvation, until he disappeared in the rising\nmists of evening which lay, rose-tinted from the setting sun, between\nthe far-off river and me.\n\nIt was quite dark when I at last turned back to our stricken camp, and\nmy last vision as I went was the red gleam of Zambo's fire, the one\npoint of light in the wide world below, as was his faithful presence in\nmy own shadowed soul.  And yet I felt happier than I had done since\nthis crushing blow had fallen upon me, for it was good to think that\nthe world should know what we had done, so that at the worst our names\nshould not perish with our bodies, but should go down to posterity\nassociated with the result of our labors.\n\nIt was an awesome thing to sleep in that ill-fated camp; and yet it was\neven more unnerving to do so in the jungle.  One or the other it must\nbe.  Prudence, on the one hand, warned me that I should remain on\nguard, but exhausted Nature, on the other, declared that I should do\nnothing of the kind.  I climbed up on to a limb of the great gingko\ntree, but there was no secure perch on its rounded surface, and I\nshould certainly have fallen off and broken my neck the moment I began\nto doze.  I got down, therefore, and pondered over what I should do.\nFinally, I closed the door of the zareba, lit three separate fires in a\ntriangle, and having eaten a hearty supper dropped off into a profound\nsleep, from which I had a strange and most welcome awakening.  In the\nearly morning, just as day was breaking, a hand was laid upon my arm,\nand starting up, with all my nerves in a tingle and my hand feeling for\na rifle, I gave a cry of joy as in the cold gray light I saw Lord John\nRoxton kneeling beside me.\n\nIt was he--and yet it was not he.  I had left him calm in his bearing,\ncorrect in his person, prim in his dress.  Now he was pale and\nwild-eyed, gasping as he breathed like one who has run far and fast.\nHis gaunt face was scratched and bloody, his clothes were hanging in\nrags, and his hat was gone.  I stared in amazement, but he gave me no\nchance for questions.  He was grabbing at our stores all the time he\nspoke.\n\n\"Quick, young fellah!  Quick!\" he cried.  \"Every moment counts.  Get\nthe rifles, both of them.  I have the other two.  Now, all the\ncartridges you can gather.  Fill up your pockets.  Now, some food.\nHalf a dozen tins will do.  That's all right!  Don't wait to talk or\nthink.  Get a move on, or we are done!\"\n\nStill half-awake, and unable to imagine what it all might mean, I found\nmyself hurrying madly after him through the wood, a rifle under each\narm and a pile of various stores in my hands.  He dodged in and out\nthrough the thickest of the scrub until he came to a dense clump of\nbrush-wood.  Into this he rushed, regardless of thorns, and threw\nhimself into the heart of it, pulling me down by his side.\n\n\"There!\" he panted.  \"I think we are safe here.  They'll make for the\ncamp as sure as fate.  It will be their first idea.  But this should\npuzzle 'em.\"\n\n\"What is it all?\" I asked, when I had got my breath.  \"Where are the\nprofessors?  And who is it that is after us?\"\n\n\"The ape-men,\" he cried.  \"My God, what brutes!  Don't raise your\nvoice, for they have long ears--sharp eyes, too, but no power of scent,\nso far as I could judge, so I don't think they can sniff us out.  Where\nhave you been, young fellah?  You were well out of it.\"\n\nIn a few sentences I whispered what I had done.\n\n\"Pretty bad,\" said he, when he had heard of the dinosaur and the pit.\n\"It isn't quite the place for a rest cure.  What?  But I had no idea\nwhat its possibilities were until those devils got hold of us.  The\nman-eatin' Papuans had me once, but they are Chesterfields compared to\nthis crowd.\"\n\n\"How did it happen?\" I asked.\n\n\"It was in the early mornin'.  Our learned friends were just stirrin'.\nHadn't even begun to argue yet.  Suddenly it rained apes.  They came\ndown as thick as apples out of a tree.  They had been assemblin' in the\ndark, I suppose, until that great tree over our heads was heavy with\nthem.  I shot one of them through the belly, but before we knew where\nwe were they had us spread-eagled on our backs.  I call them apes, but\nthey carried sticks and stones in their hands and jabbered talk to each\nother, and ended up by tyin' our hands with creepers, so they are ahead\nof any beast that I have seen in my wanderin's.  Ape-men--that's what\nthey are--Missin' Links, and I wish they had stayed missin'.  They\ncarried off their wounded comrade--he was bleedin' like a pig--and then\nthey sat around us, and if ever I saw frozen murder it was in their\nfaces.  They were big fellows, as big as a man and a deal stronger.\nCurious glassy gray eyes they have, under red tufts, and they just sat\nand gloated and gloated.  Challenger is no chicken, but even he was\ncowed.  He managed to struggle to his feet, and yelled out at them to\nhave done with it and get it over.  I think he had gone a bit off his\nhead at the suddenness of it, for he raged and cursed at them like a\nlunatic.  If they had been a row of his favorite Pressmen he could not\nhave slanged them worse.\"\n\n\"Well, what did they do?\"  I was enthralled by the strange story which\nmy companion was whispering into my ear, while all the time his keen\neyes were shooting in every direction and his hand grasping his cocked\nrifle.\n\n\"I thought it was the end of us, but instead of that it started them on\na new line.  They all jabbered and chattered together.  Then one of\nthem stood out beside Challenger.  You'll smile, young fellah, but 'pon\nmy word they might have been kinsmen.  I couldn't have believed it if I\nhadn't seen it with my own eyes.  This old ape-man--he was their\nchief--was a sort of red Challenger, with every one of our friend's\nbeauty points, only just a trifle more so.  He had the short body, the\nbig shoulders, the round chest, no neck, a great ruddy frill of a\nbeard, the tufted eyebrows, the 'What do you want, damn you!' look\nabout the eyes, and the whole catalogue.  When the ape-man stood by\nChallenger and put his paw on his shoulder, the thing was complete.\nSummerlee was a bit hysterical, and he laughed till he cried.  The\nape-men laughed too--or at least they put up the devil of a\ncacklin'--and they set to work to drag us off through the forest.  They\nwouldn't touch the guns and things--thought them dangerous, I\nexpect--but they carried away all our loose food.  Summerlee and I got\nsome rough handlin' on the way--there's my skin and my clothes to prove\nit--for they took us a bee-line through the brambles, and their own\nhides are like leather.  But Challenger was all right.  Four of them\ncarried him shoulder high, and he went like a Roman emperor.  What's\nthat?\"\n\nIt was a strange clicking noise in the distance not unlike castanets.\n\n\"There they go!\" said my companion, slipping cartridges into the second\ndouble barrelled \"Express.\"  \"Load them all up, young fellah my lad,\nfor we're not going to be taken alive, and don't you think it!  That's\nthe row they make when they are excited.  By George! they'll have\nsomething to excite them if they put us up.  The 'Last Stand of the\nGrays' won't be in it.   'With their rifles grasped in their stiffened\nhands, mid a ring of the dead and dyin',' as some fathead sings.  Can\nyou hear them now?\"\n\n\"Very far away.\"\n\n\"That little lot will do no good, but I expect their search parties are\nall over the wood.  Well, I was telling you my tale of woe.  They got\nus soon to this town of theirs--about a thousand huts of branches and\nleaves in a great grove of trees near the edge of the cliff.  It's\nthree or four miles from here.  The filthy beasts fingered me all over,\nand I feel as if I should never be clean again.  They tied us up--the\nfellow who handled me could tie like a bosun--and there we lay with our\ntoes up, beneath a tree, while a great brute stood guard over us with a\nclub in his hand.  When I say 'we' I mean Summerlee and myself.  Old\nChallenger was up a tree, eatin' pines and havin' the time of his life.\nI'm bound to say that he managed to get some fruit to us, and with his\nown hands he loosened our bonds.  If you'd seen him sitting up in that\ntree hob-nobbin' with his twin brother--and singin' in that rollin'\nbass of his, 'Ring out, wild bells,' cause music of any kind seemed to\nput 'em in a good humor, you'd have smiled; but we weren't in much mood\nfor laughin', as you can guess.  They were inclined, within limits, to\nlet him do what he liked, but they drew the line pretty sharply at us.\nIt was a mighty consolation to us all to know that you were runnin'\nloose and had the archives in your keepin'.\n\n\"Well, now, young fellah, I'll tell you what will surprise you.  You\nsay you saw signs of men, and fires, traps, and the like.  Well, we\nhave seen the natives themselves.  Poor devils they were, down-faced\nlittle chaps, and had enough to make them so.  It seems that the humans\nhold one side of this plateau--over yonder, where you saw the\ncaves--and the ape-men hold this side, and there is bloody war between\nthem all the time.  That's the situation, so far as I could follow it.\nWell, yesterday the ape-men got hold of a dozen of the humans and\nbrought them in as prisoners.  You never heard such a jabberin' and\nshriekin' in your life.  The men were little red fellows, and had been\nbitten and clawed so that they could hardly walk.  The ape-men put two\nof them to death there and then--fairly pulled the arm off one of\nthem--it was perfectly beastly.  Plucky little chaps they are, and\nhardly gave a squeak.  But it turned us absolutely sick.  Summerlee\nfainted, and even Challenger had as much as he could stand.  I think\nthey have cleared, don't you?\"\n\nWe listened intently, but nothing save the calling of the birds broke\nthe deep peace of the forest.  Lord Roxton went on with his story.\n\n\"I think you have had the escape of your life, young fellah my lad.  It\nwas catchin' those Indians that put you clean out of their heads, else\nthey would have been back to the camp for you as sure as fate and\ngathered you in.  Of course, as you said, they have been watchin' us\nfrom the beginnin' out of that tree, and they knew perfectly well that\nwe were one short.  However, they could think only of this new haul; so\nit was I, and not a bunch of apes, that dropped in on you in the\nmorning.  Well, we had a horrid business afterwards.  My God!  what a\nnightmare the whole thing is!  You remember the great bristle of sharp\ncanes down below where we found the skeleton of the American?  Well,\nthat is just under ape-town, and that's the jumpin'-off place of their\nprisoners.  I expect there's heaps of skeletons there, if we looked for\n'em.  They have a sort of clear parade-ground on the top, and they make\na proper ceremony about it.  One by one the poor devils have to jump,\nand the game is to see whether they are merely dashed to pieces or\nwhether they get skewered on the canes.  They took us out to see it,\nand the whole tribe lined up on the edge.  Four of the Indians jumped,\nand the canes went through 'em like knittin' needles through a pat of\nbutter.  No wonder we found that poor Yankee's skeleton with the canes\ngrowin' between his ribs.  It was horrible--but it was doocedly\ninterestin' too.  We were all fascinated to see them take the dive,\neven when we thought it would be our turn next on the spring-board.\n\n\"Well, it wasn't.  They kept six of the Indians up for to-day--that's\nhow I understood it--but I fancy we were to be the star performers in\nthe show.  Challenger might get off, but Summerlee and I were in the\nbill.  Their language is more than half signs, and it was not hard to\nfollow them.  So I thought it was time we made a break for it.  I had\nbeen plottin' it out a bit, and had one or two things clear in my mind.\nIt was all on me, for Summerlee was useless and Challenger not much\nbetter.  The only time they got together they got slangin' because they\ncouldn't agree upon the scientific classification of these red-headed\ndevils that had got hold of us.  One said it was the dryopithecus of\nJava, the other said it was pithecanthropus.  Madness, I call\nit--Loonies, both.  But, as I say, I had thought out one or two points\nthat were helpful.  One was that these brutes could not run as fast as\na man in the open.  They have short, bandy legs, you see, and heavy\nbodies.  Even Challenger could give a few yards in a hundred to the\nbest of them, and you or I would be a perfect Shrubb.  Another point\nwas that they knew nothin' about guns.  I don't believe they ever\nunderstood how the fellow I shot came by his hurt.  If we could get at\nour guns there was no sayin' what we could do.\n\n\"So I broke away early this mornin', gave my guard a kick in the tummy\nthat laid him out, and sprinted for the camp.  There I got you and the\nguns, and here we are.\"\n\n\"But the professors!\" I cried, in consternation.\n\n\"Well, we must just go back and fetch 'em.  I couldn't bring 'em with\nme.  Challenger was up the tree, and Summerlee was not fit for the\neffort.  The only chance was to get the guns and try a rescue.  Of\ncourse they may scupper them at once in revenge.  I don't think they\nwould touch Challenger, but I wouldn't answer for Summerlee.  But they\nwould have had him in any case.  Of that I am certain.  So I haven't\nmade matters any worse by boltin'.  But we are honor bound to go back\nand have them out or see it through with them.  So you can make up your\nsoul, young fellah my lad, for it will be one way or the other before\nevenin'.\"\n\nI have tried to imitate here Lord Roxton's jerky talk, his short,\nstrong sentences, the half-humorous, half-reckless tone that ran\nthrough it all.  But he was a born leader.  As danger thickened his\njaunty manner would increase, his speech become more racy, his cold\neyes glitter into ardent life, and his Don Quixote moustache bristle\nwith joyous excitement.  His love of danger, his intense appreciation\nof the drama of an adventure--all the more intense for being held\ntightly in--his consistent view that every peril in life is a form of\nsport, a fierce game betwixt you and Fate, with Death as a forfeit,\nmade him a wonderful companion at such hours.  If it were not for our\nfears as to the fate of our companions, it would have been a positive\njoy to throw myself with such a man into such an affair.  We were\nrising from our brushwood hiding-place when suddenly I felt his grip\nupon my arm.\n\n\"By George!\" he whispered, \"here they come!\"\n\nFrom where we lay we could look down a brown aisle, arched with green,\nformed by the trunks and branches.  Along this a party of the ape-men\nwere passing.  They went in single file, with bent legs and rounded\nbacks, their hands occasionally touching the ground, their heads\nturning to left and right as they trotted along.  Their crouching gait\ntook away from their height, but I should put them at five feet or so,\nwith long arms and enormous chests.  Many of them carried sticks, and\nat the distance they looked like a line of very hairy and deformed\nhuman beings.  For a moment I caught this clear glimpse of them.  Then\nthey were lost among the bushes.\n\n\"Not this time,\" said Lord John, who had caught up his rifle.  \"Our\nbest chance is to lie quiet until they have given up the search.  Then\nwe shall see whether we can't get back to their town and hit 'em where\nit hurts most.  Give 'em an hour and we'll march.\"\n\nWe filled in the time by opening one of our food tins and making sure\nof our breakfast.  Lord Roxton had had nothing but some fruit since the\nmorning before and ate like a starving man.  Then, at last, our pockets\nbulging with cartridges and a rifle in each hand, we started off upon\nour mission of rescue.  Before leaving it we carefully marked our\nlittle hiding-place among the brush-wood and its bearing to Fort\nChallenger, that we might find it again if we needed it.  We slunk\nthrough the bushes in silence until we came to the very edge of the\ncliff, close to the old camp.  There we halted, and Lord John gave me\nsome idea of his plans.\n\n\"So long as we are among the thick trees these swine are our masters,\"\nsaid he.  \"They can see us and we cannot see them.  But in the open it\nis different.  There we can move faster than they.  So we must stick to\nthe open all we can.  The edge of the plateau has fewer large trees\nthan further inland.  So that's our line of advance.  Go slowly, keep\nyour eyes open and your rifle ready.  Above all, never let them get you\nprisoner while there is a cartridge left--that's my last word to you,\nyoung fellah.\"\n\nWhen we reached the edge of the cliff I looked over and saw our good\nold black Zambo sitting smoking on a rock below us.  I would have given\na great deal to have hailed him and told him how we were placed, but it\nwas too dangerous, lest we should be heard.  The woods seemed to be\nfull of the ape-men; again and again we heard their curious clicking\nchatter.  At such times we plunged into the nearest clump of bushes and\nlay still until the sound had passed away.  Our advance, therefore, was\nvery slow, and two hours at least must have passed before I saw by Lord\nJohn's cautious movements that we must be close to our destination.  He\nmotioned to me to lie still, and he crawled forward himself.  In a\nminute he was back again, his face quivering with eagerness.\n\n\"Come!\" said he.  \"Come quick! I hope to the Lord we are not too late\nalready!\"\n\nI found myself shaking with nervous excitement as I scrambled forward\nand lay down beside him, looking out through the bushes at a clearing\nwhich stretched before us.\n\nIt was a sight which I shall never forget until my dying day--so weird,\nso impossible, that I do not know how I am to make you realize it, or\nhow in a few years I shall bring myself to believe in it if I live to\nsit once more on a lounge in the Savage Club and look out on the drab\nsolidity of the Embankment.  I know that it will seem then to be some\nwild nightmare, some delirium of fever.  Yet I will set it down now,\nwhile it is still fresh in my memory, and one at least, the man who lay\nin the damp grasses by my side, will know if I have lied.\n\nA wide, open space lay before us--some hundreds of yards across--all\ngreen turf and low bracken growing to the very edge of the cliff.\nRound this clearing there was a semi-circle of trees with curious huts\nbuilt of foliage piled one above the other among the branches.  A\nrookery, with every nest a little house, would best convey the idea.\nThe openings of these huts and the branches of the trees were thronged\nwith a dense mob of ape-people, whom from their size I took to be the\nfemales and infants of the tribe.  They formed the background of the\npicture, and were all looking out with eager interest at the same scene\nwhich fascinated and bewildered us.\n\nIn the open, and near the edge of the cliff, there had assembled a\ncrowd of some hundred of these shaggy, red-haired creatures, many of\nthem of immense size, and all of them horrible to look upon.  There was\na certain discipline among them, for none of them attempted to break\nthe line which had been formed.  In front there stood a small group of\nIndians--little, clean-limbed, red fellows, whose skins glowed like\npolished bronze in the strong sunlight.  A tall, thin white man was\nstanding beside them, his head bowed, his arms folded, his whole\nattitude expressive of his horror and dejection.  There was no\nmistaking the angular form of Professor Summerlee.\n\nIn front of and around this dejected group of prisoners were several\nape-men, who watched them closely and made all escape impossible.\nThen, right out from all the others and close to the edge of the cliff,\nwere two figures, so strange, and under other circumstances so\nludicrous, that they absorbed my attention.  The one was our comrade,\nProfessor Challenger.  The remains of his coat still hung in strips\nfrom his shoulders, but his shirt had been all torn out, and his great\nbeard merged itself in the black tangle which covered his mighty chest.\nHe had lost his hat, and his hair, which had grown long in our\nwanderings, was flying in wild disorder.  A single day seemed to have\nchanged him from the highest product of modern civilization to the most\ndesperate savage in South America.  Beside him stood his master, the\nking of the ape-men.  In all things he was, as Lord John had said, the\nvery image of our Professor, save that his coloring was red instead of\nblack.  The same short, broad figure, the same heavy shoulders, the\nsame forward hang of the arms, the same bristling beard merging itself\nin the hairy chest.  Only above the eyebrows, where the sloping\nforehead and low, curved skull of the ape-man were in sharp contrast to\nthe broad brow and magnificent cranium of the European, could one see\nany marked difference.  At every other point the king was an absurd\nparody of the Professor.\n\nAll this, which takes me so long to describe, impressed itself upon me\nin a few seconds.  Then we had very different things to think of, for\nan active drama was in progress.  Two of the ape-men had seized one of\nthe Indians out of the group and dragged him forward to the edge of the\ncliff.  The king raised his hand as a signal.  They caught the man by\nhis leg and arm, and swung him three times backwards and forwards with\ntremendous violence.  Then, with a frightful heave they shot the poor\nwretch over the precipice.  With such force did they throw him that he\ncurved high in the air before beginning to drop.  As he vanished from\nsight, the whole assembly, except the guards, rushed forward to the\nedge of the precipice, and there was a long pause of absolute silence,\nbroken by a mad yell of delight.  They sprang about, tossing their\nlong, hairy arms in the air and howling with exultation.  Then they\nfell back from the edge, formed themselves again into line, and waited\nfor the next victim.\n\nThis time it was Summerlee.  Two of his guards caught him by the wrists\nand pulled him brutally to the front.  His thin figure and long limbs\nstruggled and fluttered like a chicken being dragged from a coop.\nChallenger had turned to the king and waved his hands frantically\nbefore him.  He was begging, pleading, imploring for his comrade's\nlife.  The ape-man pushed him roughly aside and shook his head.  It was\nthe last conscious movement he was to make upon earth.  Lord John's\nrifle cracked, and the king sank down, a tangled red sprawling thing,\nupon the ground.\n\n\"Shoot into the thick of them!  Shoot! sonny, shoot!\" cried my\ncompanion.\n\nThere are strange red depths in the soul of the most commonplace man.\nI am tenderhearted by nature, and have found my eyes moist many a time\nover the scream of a wounded hare.  Yet the blood lust was on me now.\nI found myself on my feet emptying one magazine, then the other,\nclicking open the breech to re-load, snapping it to again, while\ncheering and yelling with pure ferocity and joy of slaughter as I did\nso.  With our four guns the two of us made a horrible havoc.  Both the\nguards who held Summerlee were down, and he was staggering about like a\ndrunken man in his amazement, unable to realize that he was a free man.\nThe dense mob of ape-men ran about in bewilderment, marveling whence\nthis storm of death was coming or what it might mean.  They waved,\ngesticulated, screamed, and tripped up over those who had fallen.\nThen, with a sudden impulse, they all rushed in a howling crowd to the\ntrees for shelter, leaving the ground behind them spotted with their\nstricken comrades.  The prisoners were left for the moment standing\nalone in the middle of the clearing.\n\nChallenger's quick brain had grasped the situation.  He seized the\nbewildered Summerlee by the arm, and they both ran towards us.  Two of\ntheir guards bounded after them and fell to two bullets from Lord John.\nWe ran forward into the open to meet our friends, and pressed a loaded\nrifle into the hands of each.  But Summerlee was at the end of his\nstrength.  He could hardly totter.  Already the ape-men were recovering\nfrom their panic.  They were coming through the brushwood and\nthreatening to cut us off.  Challenger and I ran Summerlee along, one\nat each of his elbows, while Lord John covered our retreat, firing\nagain and again as savage heads snarled at us out of the bushes.  For a\nmile or more the chattering brutes were at our very heels.  Then the\npursuit slackened, for they learned our power and would no longer face\nthat unerring rifle.  When we had at last reached the camp, we looked\nback and found ourselves alone.\n\nSo it seemed to us; and yet we were mistaken.  We had hardly closed the\nthornbush door of our zareba, clasped each other's hands, and thrown\nourselves panting upon the ground beside our spring, when we heard a\npatter of feet and then a gentle, plaintive crying from outside our\nentrance.  Lord Roxton rushed forward, rifle in hand, and threw it\nopen.  There, prostrate upon their faces, lay the little red figures of\nthe four surviving Indians, trembling with fear of us and yet imploring\nour protection.  With an expressive sweep of his hands one of them\npointed to the woods around them, and indicated that they were full of\ndanger.  Then, darting forward, he threw his arms round Lord John's\nlegs, and rested his face upon them.\n\n\"By George!\" cried our peer, pulling at his moustache in great\nperplexity, \"I say--what the deuce are we to do with these people?  Get\nup, little chappie, and take your face off my boots.\"\n\nSummerlee was sitting up and stuffing some tobacco into his old briar.\n\n\"We've got to see them safe,\" said he.  \"You've pulled us all out of\nthe jaws of death.  My word! it was a good bit of work!\"\n\n\"Admirable!\" cried Challenger.  \"Admirable!  Not only we as\nindividuals, but European science collectively, owe you a deep debt of\ngratitude for what you have done.  I do not hesitate to say that the\ndisappearance of Professor Summerlee and myself would have left an\nappreciable gap in modern zoological history.  Our young friend here\nand you have done most excellently well.\"\n\nHe beamed at us with the old paternal smile, but European science would\nhave been somewhat amazed could they have seen their chosen child, the\nhope of the future, with his tangled, unkempt head, his bare chest, and\nhis tattered clothes.  He had one of the meat-tins between his knees,\nand sat with a large piece of cold Australian mutton between his\nfingers.  The Indian looked up at him, and then, with a little yelp,\ncringed to the ground and clung to Lord John's leg.\n\n\"Don't you be scared, my bonnie boy,\" said Lord John, patting the\nmatted head in front of him.  \"He can't stick your appearance,\nChallenger; and, by George! I don't wonder.  All right, little chap,\nhe's only a human, just the same as the rest of us.\"\n\n\"Really, sir!\" cried the Professor.\n\n\"Well, it's lucky for you, Challenger, that you ARE a little out of the\nordinary.  If you hadn't been so like the king----\"\n\n\"Upon my word, Lord John, you allow yourself great latitude.\"\n\n\"Well, it's a fact.\"\n\n\"I beg, sir, that you will change the subject.  Your remarks are\nirrelevant and unintelligible.  The question before us is what are we\nto do with these Indians?  The obvious thing is to escort them home, if\nwe knew where their home was.\"\n\n\"There is no difficulty about that,\" said I.  \"They live in the caves\non the other side of the central lake.\"\n\n\"Our young friend here knows where they live.  I gather that it is some\ndistance.\"\n\n\"A good twenty miles,\" said I.\n\nSummerlee gave a groan.\n\n\"I, for one, could never get there.  Surely I hear those brutes still\nhowling upon our track.\"\n\nAs he spoke, from the dark recesses of the woods we heard far away the\njabbering cry of the ape-men.  The Indians once more set up a feeble\nwail of fear.\n\n\"We must move, and move quick!\" said Lord John.  \"You help Summerlee,\nyoung fellah.  These Indians will carry stores.  Now, then, come along\nbefore they can see us.\"\n\nIn less than half-an-hour we had reached our brushwood retreat and\nconcealed ourselves.  All day we heard the excited calling of the\nape-men in the direction of our old camp, but none of them came our\nway, and the tired fugitives, red and white, had a long, deep sleep.  I\nwas dozing myself in the evening when someone plucked my sleeve, and I\nfound Challenger kneeling beside me.\n\n\"You keep a diary of these events, and you expect eventually to publish\nit, Mr. Malone,\" said he, with solemnity.\n\n\"I am only here as a Press reporter,\" I answered.\n\n\"Exactly.  You may have heard some rather fatuous remarks of Lord John\nRoxton's which seemed to imply that there was some--some\nresemblance----\"\n\n\"Yes, I heard them.\"\n\n\"I need not say that any publicity given to such an idea--any levity in\nyour narrative of what occurred--would be exceedingly offensive to me.\"\n\n\"I will keep well within the truth.\"\n\n\"Lord John's observations are frequently exceedingly fanciful, and he\nis capable of attributing the most absurd reasons to the respect which\nis always shown by the most undeveloped races to dignity and character.\nYou follow my meaning?\"\n\n\"Entirely.\"\n\n\"I leave the matter to your discretion.\"  Then, after a long pause, he\nadded:  \"The king of the ape-men was really a creature of great\ndistinction--a most remarkably handsome and intelligent personality.\nDid it not strike you?\"\n\n\"A most remarkable creature,\" said I.\n\nAnd the Professor, much eased in his mind, settled down to his slumber\nonce more.\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER XIV\n\n                \"Those Were the Real Conquests\"\n\nWe had imagined that our pursuers, the ape-men, knew nothing of our\nbrush-wood hiding-place, but we were soon to find out our mistake.\nThere was no sound in the woods--not a leaf moved upon the trees, and\nall was peace around us--but we should have been warned by our first\nexperience how cunningly and how patiently these creatures can watch\nand wait until their chance comes.  Whatever fate may be mine through\nlife, I am very sure that I shall never be nearer death than I was that\nmorning.  But I will tell you the thing in its due order.\n\nWe all awoke exhausted after the terrific emotions and scanty food of\nyesterday.  Summerlee was still so weak that it was an effort for him\nto stand; but the old man was full of a sort of surly courage which\nwould never admit defeat.  A council was held, and it was agreed that\nwe should wait quietly for an hour or two where we were, have our\nmuch-needed breakfast, and then make our way across the plateau and\nround the central lake to the caves where my observations had shown\nthat the Indians lived.  We relied upon the fact that we could count\nupon the good word of those whom we had rescued to ensure a warm\nwelcome from their fellows.  Then, with our mission accomplished and\npossessing a fuller knowledge of the secrets of Maple White Land, we\nshould turn our whole thoughts to the vital problem of our escape and\nreturn.  Even Challenger was ready to admit that we should then have\ndone all for which we had come, and that our first duty from that time\nonwards was to carry back to civilization the amazing discoveries we\nhad made.\n\nWe were able now to take a more leisurely view of the Indians whom we\nhad rescued.  They were small men, wiry, active, and well-built, with\nlank black hair tied up in a bunch behind their heads with a leathern\nthong, and leathern also were their loin-clothes.  Their faces were\nhairless, well formed, and good-humored.  The lobes of their ears,\nhanging ragged and bloody, showed that they had been pierced for some\nornaments which their captors had torn out.  Their speech, though\nunintelligible to us, was fluent among themselves, and as they pointed\nto each other and uttered the word \"Accala\" many times over, we\ngathered that this was the name of the nation.  Occasionally, with\nfaces which were convulsed with fear and hatred, they shook their\nclenched hands at the woods round and cried:  \"Doda!  Doda!\" which was\nsurely their term for their enemies.\n\n\"What do you make of them, Challenger?\" asked Lord John.  \"One thing is\nvery clear to me, and that is that the little chap with the front of\nhis head shaved is a chief among them.\"\n\nIt was indeed evident that this man stood apart from the others, and\nthat they never ventured to address him without every sign of deep\nrespect.  He seemed to be the youngest of them all, and yet, so proud\nand high was his spirit that, upon Challenger laying his great hand\nupon his head, he started like a spurred horse and, with a quick flash\nof his dark eyes, moved further away from the Professor.  Then, placing\nhis hand upon his breast and holding himself with great dignity, he\nuttered the word \"Maretas\" several times.  The Professor, unabashed,\nseized the nearest Indian by the shoulder and proceeded to lecture upon\nhim as if he were a potted specimen in a class-room.\n\n\"The type of these people,\" said he in his sonorous fashion, \"whether\njudged by cranial capacity, facial angle, or any other test, cannot be\nregarded as a low one; on the contrary, we must place it as\nconsiderably higher in the scale than many South American tribes which\nI can mention.  On no possible supposition can we explain the evolution\nof such a race in this place.  For that matter, so great a gap\nseparates these ape-men from the primitive animals which have survived\nupon this plateau, that it is inadmissible to think that they could\nhave developed where we find them.\"\n\n\"Then where the dooce did they drop from?\" asked Lord John.\n\n\"A question which will, no doubt, be eagerly discussed in every\nscientific society in Europe and America,\" the Professor answered.  \"My\nown reading of the situation for what it is worth--\" he inflated his\nchest enormously and looked insolently around him at the words--\"is\nthat evolution has advanced under the peculiar conditions of this\ncountry up to the vertebrate stage, the old types surviving and living\non in company with the newer ones.  Thus we find such modern creatures\nas the tapir--an animal with quite a respectable length of\npedigree--the great deer, and the ant-eater in the companionship of\nreptilian forms of jurassic type.  So much is clear.  And now come the\nape-men and the Indian.  What is the scientific mind to think of their\npresence?  I can only account for it by an invasion from outside.  It\nis probable that there existed an anthropoid ape in South America, who\nin past ages found his way to this place, and that he developed into\nthe creatures we have seen, some of which\"--here he looked hard at\nme--\"were of an appearance and shape which, if it had been accompanied\nby corresponding intelligence, would, I do not hesitate to say, have\nreflected credit upon any living race.  As to the Indians I cannot\ndoubt that they are more recent immigrants from below.  Under the\nstress of famine or of conquest they have made their way up here.\nFaced by ferocious creatures which they had never before seen, they\ntook refuge in the caves which our young friend has described, but they\nhave no doubt had a bitter fight to hold their own against wild beasts,\nand especially against the ape-men who would regard them as intruders,\nand wage a merciless war upon them with a cunning which the larger\nbeasts would lack.  Hence the fact that their numbers appear to be\nlimited.  Well, gentlemen, have I read you the riddle aright, or is\nthere any point which you would query?\"\n\nProfessor Summerlee for once was too depressed to argue, though he\nshook his head violently as a token of general disagreement.  Lord John\nmerely scratched his scanty locks with the remark that he couldn't put\nup a fight as he wasn't in the same weight or class.  For my own part I\nperformed my usual role of bringing things down to a strictly prosaic\nand practical level by the remark that one of the Indians was missing.\n\n\"He has gone to fetch some water,\" said Lord Roxton.  \"We fitted him up\nwith an empty beef tin and he is off.\"\n\n\"To the old camp?\" I asked.\n\n\"No, to the brook.  It's among the trees there.  It can't be more than\na couple of hundred yards.  But the beggar is certainly taking his\ntime.\"\n\n\"I'll go and look after him,\" said I.  I picked up my rifle and\nstrolled in the direction of the brook, leaving my friends to lay out\nthe scanty breakfast.  It may seem to you rash that even for so short a\ndistance I should quit the shelter of our friendly thicket, but you\nwill remember that we were many miles from Ape-town, that so far as we\nknew the creatures had not discovered our retreat, and that in any case\nwith a rifle in my hands I had no fear of them.  I had not yet learned\ntheir cunning or their strength.\n\nI could hear the murmur of our brook somewhere ahead of me, but there\nwas a tangle of trees and brushwood between me and it.  I was making my\nway through this at a point which was just out of sight of my\ncompanions, when, under one of the trees, I noticed something red\nhuddled among the bushes.  As I approached it, I was shocked to see\nthat it was the dead body of the missing Indian.  He lay upon his side,\nhis limbs drawn up, and his head screwed round at a most unnatural\nangle, so that he seemed to be looking straight over his own shoulder.\nI gave a cry to warn my friends that something was amiss, and running\nforwards I stooped over the body.  Surely my guardian angel was very\nnear me then, for some instinct of fear, or it may have been some faint\nrustle of leaves, made me glance upwards.  Out of the thick green\nfoliage which hung low over my head, two long muscular arms covered\nwith reddish hair were slowly descending.  Another instant and the\ngreat stealthy hands would have been round my throat.  I sprang\nbackwards, but quick as I was, those hands were quicker still.  Through\nmy sudden spring they missed a fatal grip, but one of them caught the\nback of my neck and the other one my face.  I threw my hands up to\nprotect my throat, and the next moment the huge paw had slid down my\nface and closed over them.  I was lifted lightly from the ground, and I\nfelt an intolerable pressure forcing my head back and back until the\nstrain upon the cervical spine was more than I could bear.  My senses\nswam, but I still tore at the hand and forced it out from my chin.\nLooking up I saw a frightful face with cold inexorable light blue eyes\nlooking down into mine.  There was something hypnotic in those terrible\neyes.  I could struggle no longer.  As the creature felt me grow limp\nin his grasp, two white canines gleamed for a moment at each side of\nthe vile mouth, and the grip tightened still more upon my chin, forcing\nit always upwards and back.  A thin, oval-tinted mist formed before my\neyes and little silvery bells tinkled in my ears.  Dully and far off I\nheard the crack of a rifle and was feebly aware of the shock as I was\ndropped to the earth, where I lay without sense or motion.\n\nI awoke to find myself on my back upon the grass in our lair within the\nthicket.  Someone had brought the water from the brook, and Lord John\nwas sprinkling my head with it, while Challenger and Summerlee were\npropping me up, with concern in their faces.  For a moment I had a\nglimpse of the human spirits behind their scientific masks.  It was\nreally shock, rather than any injury, which had prostrated me, and in\nhalf-an-hour, in spite of aching head and stiff neck, I was sitting up\nand ready for anything.\n\n\"But you've had the escape of your life, young fellah my lad,\" said\nLord Roxton.  \"When I heard your cry and ran forward, and saw your head\ntwisted half-off and your stohwassers kickin' in the air, I thought we\nwere one short.  I missed the beast in my flurry, but he dropped you\nall right and was off like a streak.  By George!  I wish I had fifty\nmen with rifles.  I'd clear out the whole infernal gang of them and\nleave this country a bit cleaner than we found it.\"\n\nIt was clear now that the ape-men had in some way marked us down, and\nthat we were watched on every side.  We had not so much to fear from\nthem during the day, but they would be very likely to rush us by night;\nso the sooner we got away from their neighborhood the better.  On three\nsides of us was absolute forest, and there we might find ourselves in\nan ambush.  But on the fourth side--that which sloped down in the\ndirection of the lake--there was only low scrub, with scattered trees\nand occasional open glades.  It was, in fact, the route which I had\nmyself taken in my solitary journey, and it led us straight for the\nIndian caves.  This then must for every reason be our road.\n\nOne great regret we had, and that was to leave our old camp behind us,\nnot only for the sake of the stores which remained there, but even more\nbecause we were losing touch with Zambo, our link with the outside\nworld.  However, we had a fair supply of cartridges and all our guns,\nso, for a time at least, we could look after ourselves, and we hoped\nsoon to have a chance of returning and restoring our communications\nwith our negro.  He had faithfully promised to stay where he was, and\nwe had not a doubt that he would be as good as his word.\n\nIt was in the early afternoon that we started upon our journey.  The\nyoung chief walked at our head as our guide, but refused indignantly to\ncarry any burden.  Behind him came the two surviving Indians with our\nscanty possessions upon their backs.  We four white men walked in the\nrear with rifles loaded and ready.  As we started there broke from the\nthick silent woods behind us a sudden great ululation of the ape-men,\nwhich may have been a cheer of triumph at our departure or a jeer of\ncontempt at our flight.  Looking back we saw only the dense screen of\ntrees, but that long-drawn yell told us how many of our enemies lurked\namong them.  We saw no sign of pursuit, however, and soon we had got\ninto more open country and beyond their power.\n\nAs I tramped along, the rearmost of the four, I could not help smiling\nat the appearance of my three companions in front.  Was this the\nluxurious Lord John Roxton who had sat that evening in the Albany\namidst his Persian rugs and his pictures in the pink radiance of the\ntinted lights?  And was this the imposing Professor who had swelled\nbehind the great desk in his massive study at Enmore Park?  And,\nfinally, could this be the austere and prim figure which had risen\nbefore the meeting at the Zoological Institute?  No three tramps that\none could have met in a Surrey lane could have looked more hopeless and\nbedraggled.  We had, it is true, been only a week or so upon the top of\nthe plateau, but all our spare clothing was in our camp below, and the\none week had been a severe one upon us all, though least to me who had\nnot to endure the handling of the ape-men.  My three friends had all\nlost their hats, and had now bound handkerchiefs round their heads,\ntheir clothes hung in ribbons about them, and their unshaven grimy\nfaces were hardly to be recognized.  Both Summerlee and Challenger were\nlimping heavily, while I still dragged my feet from weakness after the\nshock of the morning, and my neck was as stiff as a board from the\nmurderous grip that held it.  We were indeed a sorry crew, and I did\nnot wonder to see our Indian companions glance back at us occasionally\nwith horror and amazement on their faces.\n\nIn the late afternoon we reached the margin of the lake, and as we\nemerged from the bush and saw the sheet of water stretching before us\nour native friends set up a shrill cry of joy and pointed eagerly in\nfront of them.  It was indeed a wonderful sight which lay before us.\nSweeping over the glassy surface was a great flotilla of canoes coming\nstraight for the shore upon which we stood.  They were some miles out\nwhen we first saw them, but they shot forward with great swiftness, and\nwere soon so near that the rowers could distinguish our persons.\nInstantly a thunderous shout of delight burst from them, and we saw\nthem rise from their seats, waving their paddles and spears madly in\nthe air.  Then bending to their work once more, they flew across the\nintervening water, beached their boats upon the sloping sand, and\nrushed up to us, prostrating themselves with loud cries of greeting\nbefore the young chief.  Finally one of them, an elderly man, with a\nnecklace and bracelet of great lustrous glass beads and the skin of\nsome beautiful mottled amber-colored animal slung over his shoulders,\nran forward and embraced most tenderly the youth whom we had saved.  He\nthen looked at us and asked some questions, after which he stepped up\nwith much dignity and embraced us also each in turn.  Then, at his\norder, the whole tribe lay down upon the ground before us in homage.\nPersonally I felt shy and uncomfortable at this obsequious adoration,\nand I read the same feeling in the faces of Roxton and Summerlee, but\nChallenger expanded like a flower in the sun.\n\n\"They may be undeveloped types,\" said he, stroking his beard and\nlooking round at them, \"but their deportment in the presence of their\nsuperiors might be a lesson to some of our more advanced Europeans.\nStrange how correct are the instincts of the natural man!\"\n\nIt was clear that the natives had come out upon the war-path, for every\nman carried his spear--a long bamboo tipped with bone--his bow and\narrows, and some sort of club or stone battle-axe slung at his side.\nTheir dark, angry glances at the woods from which we had come, and the\nfrequent repetition of the word \"Doda,\" made it clear enough that this\nwas a rescue party who had set forth to save or revenge the old chief's\nson, for such we gathered that the youth must be.  A council was now\nheld by the whole tribe squatting in a circle, whilst we sat near on a\nslab of basalt and watched their proceedings.  Two or three warriors\nspoke, and finally our young friend made a spirited harangue with such\neloquent features and gestures that we could understand it all as\nclearly as if we had known his language.\n\n\"What is the use of returning?\" he said.  \"Sooner or later the thing\nmust be done.  Your comrades have been murdered.  What if I have\nreturned safe?  These others have been done to death.  There is no\nsafety for any of us.  We are assembled now and ready.\" Then he pointed\nto us.  \"These strange men are our friends.  They are great fighters,\nand they hate the ape-men even as we do.  They command,\" here he\npointed up to heaven, \"the thunder and the lightning.  When shall we\nhave such a chance again?  Let us go forward, and either die now or\nlive for the future in safety.  How else shall we go back unashamed to\nour women?\"\n\nThe little red warriors hung upon the words of the speaker, and when he\nhad finished they burst into a roar of applause, waving their rude\nweapons in the air.  The old chief stepped forward to us, and asked us\nsome questions, pointing at the same time to the woods.  Lord John made\na sign to him that he should wait for an answer and then he turned to\nus.\n\n\"Well, it's up to you to say what you will do,\" said he; \"for my part I\nhave a score to settle with these monkey-folk, and if it ends by wiping\nthem off the face of the earth I don't see that the earth need fret\nabout it.  I'm goin' with our little red pals and I mean to see them\nthrough the scrap.  What do you say, young fellah?\"\n\n\"Of course I will come.\"\n\n\"And you, Challenger?\"\n\n\"I will assuredly co-operate.\"\n\n\"And you, Summerlee?\"\n\n\"We seem to be drifting very far from the object of this expedition,\nLord John.  I assure you that I little thought when I left my\nprofessional chair in London that it was for the purpose of heading a\nraid of savages upon a colony of anthropoid apes.\"\n\n\"To such base uses do we come,\" said Lord John, smiling.  \"But we are\nup against it, so what's the decision?\"\n\n\"It seems a most questionable step,\" said Summerlee, argumentative to\nthe last, \"but if you are all going, I hardly see how I can remain\nbehind.\"\n\n\"Then it is settled,\" said Lord John, and turning to the chief he\nnodded and slapped his rifle.\n\nThe old fellow clasped our hands, each in turn, while his men cheered\nlouder than ever.  It was too late to advance that night, so the\nIndians settled down into a rude bivouac.  On all sides their fires\nbegan to glimmer and smoke.  Some of them who had disappeared into the\njungle came back presently driving a young iguanodon before them.  Like\nthe others, it had a daub of asphalt upon its shoulder, and it was only\nwhen we saw one of the natives step forward with the air of an owner\nand give his consent to the beast's slaughter that we understood at\nlast that these great creatures were as much private property as a herd\nof cattle, and that these symbols which had so perplexed us were\nnothing more than the marks of the owner.  Helpless, torpid, and\nvegetarian, with great limbs but a minute brain, they could be rounded\nup and driven by a child.  In a few minutes the huge beast had been cut\nup and slabs of him were hanging over a dozen camp fires, together with\ngreat scaly ganoid fish which had been speared in the lake.\n\nSummerlee had lain down and slept upon the sand, but we others roamed\nround the edge of the water, seeking to learn something more of this\nstrange country.  Twice we found pits of blue clay, such as we had\nalready seen in the swamp of the pterodactyls.  These were old volcanic\nvents, and for some reason excited the greatest interest in Lord John.\nWhat attracted Challenger, on the other hand, was a bubbling, gurgling\nmud geyser, where some strange gas formed great bursting bubbles upon\nthe surface.  He thrust a hollow reed into it and cried out with\ndelight like a schoolboy then he was able, on touching it with a\nlighted match, to cause a sharp explosion and a blue flame at the far\nend of the tube.  Still more pleased was he when, inverting a leathern\npouch over the end of the reed, and so filling it with the gas, he was\nable to send it soaring up into the air.\n\n\"An inflammable gas, and one markedly lighter than the atmosphere.  I\nshould say beyond doubt that it contained a considerable proportion of\nfree hydrogen.  The resources of G. E. C. are not yet exhausted, my\nyoung friend.  I may yet show you how a great mind molds all Nature to\nits use.\" He swelled with some secret purpose, but would say no more.\n\nThere was nothing which we could see upon the shore which seemed to me\nso wonderful as the great sheet of water before us.  Our numbers and\nour noise had frightened all living creatures away, and save for a few\npterodactyls, which soared round high above our heads while they waited\nfor the carrion, all was still around the camp.  But it was different\nout upon the rose-tinted waters of the central lake.  It boiled and\nheaved with strange life.  Great slate-colored backs and high serrated\ndorsal fins shot up with a fringe of silver, and then rolled down into\nthe depths again.  The sand-banks far out were spotted with uncouth\ncrawling forms, huge turtles, strange saurians, and one great flat\ncreature like a writhing, palpitating mat of black greasy leather,\nwhich flopped its way slowly to the lake.  Here and there high serpent\nheads projected out of the water, cutting swiftly through it with a\nlittle collar of foam in front, and a long swirling wake behind, rising\nand falling in graceful, swan-like undulations as they went.  It was\nnot until one of these creatures wriggled on to a sand-bank within a\nfew hundred yards of us, and exposed a barrel-shaped body and huge\nflippers behind the long serpent neck, that Challenger, and Summerlee,\nwho had joined us, broke out into their duet of wonder and admiration.\n\n\"Plesiosaurus!  A fresh-water plesiosaurus!\" cried Summerlee.  \"That I\nshould have lived to see such a sight!  We are blessed, my dear\nChallenger, above all zoologists since the world began!\"\n\nIt was not until the night had fallen, and the fires of our savage\nallies glowed red in the shadows, that our two men of science could be\ndragged away from the fascinations of that primeval lake.  Even in the\ndarkness as we lay upon the strand, we heard from time to time the\nsnort and plunge of the huge creatures who lived therein.\n\nAt earliest dawn our camp was astir and an hour later we had started\nupon our memorable expedition.  Often in my dreams have I thought that\nI might live to be a war correspondent.  In what wildest one could I\nhave conceived the nature of the campaign which it should be my lot to\nreport!  Here then is my first despatch from a field of battle:\n\nOur numbers had been reinforced during the night by a fresh batch of\nnatives from the caves, and we may have been four or five hundred\nstrong when we made our advance.  A fringe of scouts was thrown out in\nfront, and behind them the whole force in a solid column made their way\nup the long slope of the bush country until we were near the edge of\nthe forest.  Here they spread out into a long straggling line of\nspearmen and bowmen.  Roxton and Summerlee took their position upon the\nright flank, while Challenger and I were on the left.  It was a host of\nthe stone age that we were accompanying to battle--we with the last\nword of the gunsmith's art from St. James' Street and the Strand.\n\nWe had not long to wait for our enemy.  A wild shrill clamor rose from\nthe edge of the wood and suddenly a body of ape-men rushed out with\nclubs and stones, and made for the center of the Indian line.  It was a\nvaliant move but a foolish one, for the great bandy-legged creatures\nwere slow of foot, while their opponents were as active as cats.  It\nwas horrible to see the fierce brutes with foaming mouths and glaring\neyes, rushing and grasping, but forever missing their elusive enemies,\nwhile arrow after arrow buried itself in their hides.  One great fellow\nran past me roaring with pain, with a dozen darts sticking from his\nchest and ribs.  In mercy I put a bullet through his skull, and he fell\nsprawling among the aloes.  But this was the only shot fired, for the\nattack had been on the center of the line, and the Indians there had\nneeded no help of ours in repulsing it.  Of all the ape-men who had\nrushed out into the open, I do not think that one got back to cover.\n\nBut the matter was more deadly when we came among the trees.  For an\nhour or more after we entered the wood, there was a desperate struggle\nin which for a time we hardly held our own.  Springing out from among\nthe scrub the ape-men with huge clubs broke in upon the Indians and\noften felled three or four of them before they could be speared.  Their\nfrightful blows shattered everything upon which they fell.  One of them\nknocked Summerlee's rifle to matchwood and the next would have crushed\nhis skull had an Indian not stabbed the beast to the heart.  Other\nape-men in the trees above us hurled down stones and logs of wood,\noccasionally dropping bodily on to our ranks and fighting furiously\nuntil they were felled.  Once our allies broke under the pressure, and\nhad it not been for the execution done by our rifles they would\ncertainly have taken to their heels.  But they were gallantly rallied\nby their old chief and came on with such a rush that the ape-men began\nin turn to give way.  Summerlee was weaponless, but I was emptying my\nmagazine as quick as I could fire, and on the further flank we heard\nthe continuous cracking of our companion's rifles.\n\nThen in a moment came the panic and the collapse.  Screaming and\nhowling, the great creatures rushed away in all directions through the\nbrushwood, while our allies yelled in their savage delight, following\nswiftly after their flying enemies.  All the feuds of countless\ngenerations, all the hatreds and cruelties of their narrow history, all\nthe memories of ill-usage and persecution were to be purged that day.\nAt last man was to be supreme and the man-beast to find forever his\nallotted place.  Fly as they would the fugitives were too slow to\nescape from the active savages, and from every side in the tangled\nwoods we heard the exultant yells, the twanging of bows, and the crash\nand thud as ape-men were brought down from their hiding-places in the\ntrees.\n\nI was following the others, when I found that Lord John and Challenger\nhad come across to join us.\n\n\"It's over,\" said Lord John.  \"I think we can leave the tidying up to\nthem.  Perhaps the less we see of it the better we shall sleep.\"\n\nChallenger's eyes were shining with the lust of slaughter.\n\n\"We have been privileged,\" he cried, strutting about like a gamecock,\n\"to be present at one of the typical decisive battles of history--the\nbattles which have determined the fate of the world.  What, my friends,\nis the conquest of one nation by another?  It is meaningless.  Each\nproduces the same result.  But those fierce fights, when in the dawn of\nthe ages the cave-dwellers held their own against the tiger folk, or\nthe elephants first found that they had a master, those were the real\nconquests--the victories that count.  By this strange turn of fate we\nhave seen and helped to decide even such a contest.  Now upon this\nplateau the future must ever be for man.\"\n\nIt needed a robust faith in the end to justify such tragic means.  As\nwe advanced together through the woods we found the ape-men lying\nthick, transfixed with spears or arrows.  Here and there a little group\nof shattered Indians marked where one of the anthropoids had turned to\nbay, and sold his life dearly.  Always in front of us we heard the\nyelling and roaring which showed the direction of the pursuit.  The\nape-men had been driven back to their city, they had made a last stand\nthere, once again they had been broken, and now we were in time to see\nthe final fearful scene of all.  Some eighty or a hundred males, the\nlast survivors, had been driven across that same little clearing which\nled to the edge of the cliff, the scene of our own exploit two days\nbefore.  As we arrived the Indians, a semicircle of spearmen, had\nclosed in on them, and in a minute it was over, Thirty or forty died\nwhere they stood.  The others, screaming and clawing, were thrust over\nthe precipice, and went hurtling down, as their prisoners had of old,\non to the sharp bamboos six hundred feet below.  It was as Challenger\nhad said, and the reign of man was assured forever in Maple White Land.\nThe males were exterminated, Ape Town was destroyed, the females and\nyoung were driven away to live in bondage, and the long rivalry of\nuntold centuries had reached its bloody end.\n\nFor us the victory brought much advantage.  Once again we were able to\nvisit our camp and get at our stores.  Once more also we were able to\ncommunicate with Zambo, who had been terrified by the spectacle from\nafar of an avalanche of apes falling from the edge of the cliff.\n\n\"Come away, Massas, come away!\" he cried, his eyes starting from his\nhead.  \"The debbil get you sure if you stay up there.\"\n\n\"It is the voice of sanity!\" said Summerlee with conviction.  \"We have\nhad adventures enough and they are neither suitable to our character or\nour position.  I hold you to your word, Challenger.  From now  onwards\nyou devote your energies to getting us out of this horrible country and\nback once more to civilization.\"\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER XV\n\n                \"Our Eyes have seen Great Wonders\"\n\nI write this from day to day, but I trust that before I come to the end\nof it, I may be able to say that the light shines, at last, through our\nclouds.  We are held here with no clear means of making our escape, and\nbitterly we chafe against it. Yet, I can well imagine that the day may\ncome when we may be glad that we were kept, against our will, to see\nsomething more of the wonders of this singular place, and of the\ncreatures who inhabit it.\n\nThe victory of the Indians and the annihilation of the ape-men, marked\nthe turning point of our fortunes.  From then onwards, we were in truth\nmasters of the plateau, for the natives looked upon us with a mixture\nof fear and gratitude, since by our strange powers we had aided them to\ndestroy their hereditary foe.  For their own sakes they would, perhaps,\nbe glad to see the departure of such formidable and incalculable\npeople, but they have not themselves suggested any way by which we may\nreach the plains below.  There had been, so far as we could follow\ntheir signs, a tunnel by which the place could be approached, the lower\nexit of which we had seen from below.  By this, no doubt, both ape-men\nand Indians had at different epochs reached the top, and Maple White\nwith his companion had taken the same way.  Only the year before,\nhowever, there had been a terrific earthquake, and the upper end of the\ntunnel had fallen in and completely disappeared.  The Indians now could\nonly shake their heads and shrug their shoulders when we expressed by\nsigns our desire to descend.  It may be that they cannot, but it may\nalso be that they will not, help us to get away.\n\nAt the end of the victorious campaign the surviving ape-folk were\ndriven across the plateau (their wailings were horrible) and\nestablished in the neighborhood of the Indian caves, where they would,\nfrom now onwards, be a servile race under the eyes of their masters.\nIt was a rude, raw, primeval version of the Jews in Babylon or the\nIsraelites in Egypt.  At night we could hear from amid the trees the\nlong-drawn cry, as some primitive Ezekiel mourned for fallen greatness\nand recalled the departed glories of Ape Town.  Hewers of wood and\ndrawers of water, such were they from now onwards.\n\nWe had returned across the plateau with our allies two days after the\nbattle, and made our camp at the foot of their cliffs.  They would have\nhad us share their caves with them, but Lord John would by no means\nconsent to it considering that to do so would put us in their power if\nthey were treacherously disposed.  We kept our independence, therefore,\nand had our weapons ready for any emergency, while preserving the most\nfriendly relations.  We also continually visited their caves, which\nwere most remarkable places, though whether made by man or by Nature we\nhave never been able to determine.  They were all on the one stratum,\nhollowed out of some soft rock which lay between the volcanic basalt\nforming the ruddy cliffs above them, and the hard granite which formed\ntheir base.\n\nThe openings were about eighty feet above the ground, and were led up\nto by long stone stairs, so narrow and steep that no large animal could\nmount them.  Inside they were warm and dry, running in straight\npassages of varying length into the side of the hill, with smooth gray\nwalls decorated with many excellent pictures done with charred sticks\nand representing the various animals of the plateau.  If every living\nthing were swept from the country the future explorer would find upon\nthe walls of these caves ample evidence of the strange fauna--the\ndinosaurs, iguanodons, and fish lizards--which had lived so recently\nupon earth.\n\nSince we had learned that the huge iguanodons were kept as tame herds\nby their owners, and were simply walking meat-stores, we had conceived\nthat man, even with his primitive weapons, had established his\nascendancy upon the plateau.  We were soon to discover that it was not\nso, and that he was still there upon tolerance.\n\nIt was on the third day after our forming our camp near the Indian\ncaves that the tragedy occurred.  Challenger and Summerlee had gone off\ntogether that day to the lake where some of the natives, under their\ndirection, were engaged in harpooning specimens of the great lizards.\nLord John and I had remained in our camp, while a number of the Indians\nwere scattered about upon the grassy slope in front of the caves\nengaged in different ways.  Suddenly there was a shrill cry of alarm,\nwith the word \"Stoa\" resounding from a hundred tongues.  From every\nside men, women, and children were rushing wildly for shelter, swarming\nup the staircases and into the caves in a mad stampede.\n\nLooking up, we could see them waving their arms from the rocks above\nand beckoning to us to join them in their refuge.  We had both seized\nour magazine rifles and ran out to see what the danger could be.\nSuddenly from the near belt of trees there broke forth a group of\ntwelve or fifteen Indians, running for their lives, and at their very\nheels two of those frightful monsters which had disturbed our camp and\npursued me upon my solitary journey.  In shape they were like horrible\ntoads, and moved in a succession of springs, but in size they were of\nan incredible bulk, larger than the largest elephant.  We had never\nbefore seen them save at night,  and indeed they are nocturnal animals\nsave when disturbed in their lairs, as these had been.  We now stood\namazed at the sight, for their blotched and warty skins were of a\ncurious fish-like iridescence, and the sunlight struck them with an\never-varying rainbow bloom as they moved.\n\nWe had little time to watch them, however, for in an instant they had\novertaken the fugitives and were making a dire slaughter among them.\nTheir method was to fall forward with their full weight upon each in\nturn, leaving him crushed and mangled, to bound on after the others.\nThe wretched Indians screamed with terror, but were helpless, run as\nthey would, before the relentless purpose and horrible activity of\nthese monstrous creatures.  One after another they went down, and there\nwere not half-a-dozen surviving by the time my companion and I could\ncome to their help.  But our aid was of little avail and only involved\nus in the same peril.  At the range of a couple of hundred yards we\nemptied our magazines, firing bullet after bullet into the beasts, but\nwith no more effect than if we were pelting them with pellets of paper.\nTheir slow reptilian natures cared nothing for wounds, and the springs\nof their lives, with no special brain center but scattered throughout\ntheir spinal cords, could not be tapped by any modern weapons.  The\nmost that we could do was to check their progress by distracting their\nattention with the flash and roar of our guns, and so to give both the\nnatives and ourselves time to reach the steps which led to safety.  But\nwhere the conical explosive bullets of the twentieth century were of no\navail, the poisoned arrows of the natives, dipped in the juice of\nstrophanthus and steeped afterwards in decayed carrion, could succeed.\nSuch arrows were of little avail to the hunter who attacked the beast,\nbecause their action in that torpid circulation was slow, and before\nits powers failed it could certainly overtake and slay its assailant.\nBut now, as the two monsters hounded us to the very foot of the stairs,\na drift of darts came whistling from every chink in the cliff above\nthem.  In a minute they were feathered with them, and yet with no sign\nof pain they clawed and slobbered with impotent rage at the steps which\nwould lead them to their victims, mounting clumsily up for a few yards\nand then sliding down again to the ground.  But at last the poison\nworked.  One of them gave a deep rumbling groan and dropped his huge\nsquat head on to the earth.  The other bounded round in an eccentric\ncircle with shrill, wailing cries, and then lying down writhed in agony\nfor some minutes before it also stiffened and lay still.  With yells of\ntriumph the Indians came flocking down from their caves and danced a\nfrenzied dance of victory round the dead bodies, in mad joy that two\nmore of the most dangerous of all their enemies had been slain.  That\nnight they cut up and removed the bodies, not to eat--for the poison\nwas still active--but lest they should breed a pestilence.  The great\nreptilian hearts, however, each as large as a cushion, still lay there,\nbeating slowly and steadily, with a gentle rise and fall, in horrible\nindependent life.  It was only upon the third day that the ganglia ran\ndown and the dreadful things were still.\n\nSome day, when I have a better desk than a meat-tin and more helpful\ntools than a worn stub of pencil and a last, tattered note-book, I will\nwrite some fuller account of the Accala Indians--of our life amongst\nthem, and of the glimpses which we had of the strange conditions of\nwondrous Maple White Land.  Memory, at least, will never fail me, for\nso long as the breath of life is in me, every hour and every action of\nthat period will stand out as hard and clear as do the first strange\nhappenings of our childhood.  No new impressions could efface those\nwhich are so deeply cut.  When the time comes I will describe that\nwondrous moonlit night upon the great lake when a young\nichthyosaurus--a strange creature, half seal, half fish, to look at,\nwith bone-covered eyes on each side of his snout, and a third eye fixed\nupon the top of his head--was entangled in an Indian net, and nearly\nupset our canoe before we towed it ashore; the same night that a green\nwater-snake shot out from the rushes and carried off in its coils the\nsteersman of Challenger's canoe.  I will tell, too, of the great\nnocturnal white thing--to this day we do not know whether it was beast\nor reptile--which lived in a vile swamp to the east of the lake, and\nflitted about with a faint phosphorescent glimmer in the darkness.  The\nIndians were so terrified at it that they would not go near the place,\nand, though we twice made expeditions and saw it each time, we could\nnot make our way through the deep marsh in which it lived.  I can only\nsay that it seemed to be larger than a cow and had the strangest musky\nodor.  I will tell also of the huge bird which chased Challenger to the\nshelter of the rocks one day--a great running bird, far taller than an\nostrich, with a vulture-like neck and cruel head which made it a\nwalking death.  As Challenger climbed to safety one dart of that savage\ncurving beak shore off the heel of his boot as if it had been cut with\na chisel.  This time at least modern weapons prevailed and the great\ncreature, twelve feet from head to foot--phororachus its name,\naccording to our panting but exultant Professor--went down before Lord\nRoxton's rifle in a flurry of waving feathers and kicking limbs, with\ntwo remorseless yellow eyes glaring up from the midst of it.  May I\nlive to see that flattened vicious skull in its own niche amid the\ntrophies of the Albany.  Finally, I will assuredly give some account of\nthe toxodon, the giant ten-foot guinea pig, with projecting chisel\nteeth, which we killed as it drank in the gray of the morning by the\nside of the lake.\n\nAll this I shall some day write at fuller length, and amidst these more\nstirring days I would tenderly sketch in these lovely summer evenings,\nwhen with the deep blue sky above us we lay in good comradeship among\nthe long grasses by the wood and marveled at the strange fowl that\nswept over us and the quaint new creatures which crept from their\nburrows to watch us, while above us the boughs of the bushes were heavy\nwith luscious fruit, and below us strange and lovely flowers peeped at\nus from among the herbage; or those long moonlit nights when we lay out\nupon the shimmering surface of the great lake and watched with wonder\nand awe the huge circles rippling out from the sudden splash of some\nfantastic monster; or the greenish gleam, far down in the deep water,\nof some strange creature upon the confines of darkness.  These are the\nscenes which my mind and my pen will dwell upon in every detail at some\nfuture day.\n\nBut, you will ask, why these experiences and why this delay, when you\nand your comrades should have been occupied day and night in the\ndevising of some means by which you could return to the outer world?\nMy answer is, that there was not one of us who was not working for this\nend, but that our work had been in vain.  One fact we had very speedily\ndiscovered:  The Indians would do nothing to help us.  In every other\nway they were our friends--one might almost say our devoted slaves--but\nwhen it was suggested that they should help us to make and carry a\nplank which would bridge the chasm, or when we wished to get from them\nthongs of leather or liana to weave ropes which might help us, we were\nmet by a good-humored, but an invincible, refusal.  They would smile,\ntwinkle their eyes, shake their heads, and there was the end of it.\nEven the old chief met us with the same obstinate denial, and it was\nonly Maretas, the youngster whom we had saved, who looked wistfully at\nus and told us by his gestures that he was grieved for our thwarted\nwishes.  Ever since their crowning triumph with the ape-men they looked\nupon us as supermen, who bore victory in the tubes of strange weapons,\nand they believed that so long as we remained with them good fortune\nwould be theirs.  A little red-skinned wife and a cave of our own were\nfreely offered to each of us if we would but forget our own people and\ndwell forever upon the plateau.  So far all had been kindly, however\nfar apart our desires might be; but we felt well assured that our\nactual plans of a descent must be kept secret, for we had reason to\nfear that at the last they might try to hold us by force.\n\nIn spite of the danger from dinosaurs (which is not great save at\nnight, for, as I may have said before, they are mostly nocturnal in\ntheir habits) I have twice in the last three weeks been over to our old\ncamp in order to see our negro who still kept watch and ward below the\ncliff.  My eyes strained eagerly across the great plain in the hope of\nseeing afar off the help for which we had prayed.  But the long\ncactus-strewn levels still stretched away, empty and bare, to the\ndistant line of the cane-brake.\n\n\"They will soon come now, Massa Malone.  Before another week pass\nIndian come back and bring rope and fetch you down.\"  Such was the\ncheery cry of our excellent Zambo.\n\nI had one strange experience as I came from this second visit which had\ninvolved my being away for a night from my companions.  I was returning\nalong the well-remembered route, and had reached a spot within a mile\nor so of the marsh of the pterodactyls, when I saw an extraordinary\nobject approaching me.  It was a man who walked inside a framework made\nof bent canes so that he was enclosed on all sides in a bell-shaped\ncage.  As I drew nearer I was more amazed still to see that it was Lord\nJohn Roxton.  When he saw me he slipped from under his curious\nprotection and came towards me laughing, and yet, as I thought, with\nsome confusion in his manner.\n\n\"Well, young fellah,\" said he, \"who would have thought of meetin' you\nup here?\"\n\n\"What in the world are you doing?\" I asked.\n\n\"Visitin' my friends, the pterodactyls,\" said  he.\n\n\"But why?\"\n\n\"Interestin' beasts, don't you think?  But unsociable!  Nasty rude ways\nwith strangers, as you may remember.  So I rigged this framework which\nkeeps them from bein' too pressin' in their attentions.\"\n\n\"But what do you want in the swamp?\"\n\nHe looked at me with a very questioning eye, and I read hesitation in\nhis face.\n\n\"Don't you think other people besides Professors can want to know\nthings?\" he said at last.  \"I'm studyin' the pretty dears.  That's\nenough for you.\"\n\n\"No offense,\" said I.\n\nHis good-humor returned and he laughed.\n\n\"No offense, young fellah.  I'm goin' to get a young devil chick for\nChallenger.  That's one of my jobs.  No, I don't want your company.\nI'm safe in this cage, and you are not.  So long, and I'll be back in\ncamp by night-fall.\"\n\nHe turned away and I left him wandering on through the wood with his\nextraordinary cage around him.\n\nIf Lord John's behavior at this time was strange, that of Challenger\nwas more so.  I may say that he seemed to possess an extraordinary\nfascination for the Indian women, and that he always carried a large\nspreading palm branch with which he beat them off as if they were\nflies, when their attentions became too pressing.  To see him walking\nlike a comic opera Sultan, with this badge of authority in his hand,\nhis black beard bristling in front of him, his toes pointing at each\nstep, and a train of wide-eyed Indian girls behind him, clad in their\nslender drapery of bark cloth, is one of the most grotesque of all the\npictures which I will carry back with me.  As to Summerlee, he was\nabsorbed in the insect and bird life of the plateau, and spent his\nwhole time (save that considerable portion which was devoted to abusing\nChallenger for not getting us out of our difficulties) in cleaning and\nmounting his specimens.\n\nChallenger had been in the habit of walking off by himself every\nmorning and returning from time to time with looks of portentous\nsolemnity, as one who bears the full weight of a great enterprise upon\nhis shoulders.  One day, palm branch in hand, and his crowd of adoring\ndevotees behind him, he led us down to his hidden work-shop and took us\ninto the secret of his plans.\n\nThe place was a small clearing in the center of a palm grove.  In this\nwas one of those boiling mud geysers which I have already described.\nAround its edge were scattered a number of leathern thongs cut from\niguanodon hide, and a large collapsed membrane which proved to be the\ndried and scraped stomach of one of the great fish lizards from the\nlake.  This huge sack had been sewn up at one end and only a small\norifice left at the other.  Into this opening several bamboo canes had\nbeen inserted and the other ends of these canes were in contact with\nconical clay funnels which collected the gas bubbling up through the\nmud of the geyser.  Soon the flaccid organ began to slowly expand and\nshow such a tendency to upward movements that Challenger fastened the\ncords which held it to the trunks of the surrounding trees.  In half an\nhour a good-sized gas-bag had been formed, and the jerking and\nstraining upon the thongs showed that it was capable of considerable\nlift.  Challenger, like a glad father in the presence of his\nfirst-born, stood smiling and stroking his beard, in silent,\nself-satisfied content as he gazed at the creation of his brain.  It\nwas Summerlee who first broke the silence.\n\n\"You don't mean us to go up in that thing, Challenger?\" said he, in an\nacid voice.\n\n\"I mean, my dear Summerlee, to give you such a demonstration of its\npowers that after seeing it you will, I am sure, have no hesitation in\ntrusting yourself to it.\"\n\n\"You can put it right out of your head now, at once,\" said Summerlee\nwith decision, \"nothing on earth would induce me to commit such a\nfolly.  Lord John, I trust that you will not countenance such madness?\"\n\n\"Dooced ingenious, I call it,\" said our peer.  \"I'd like to see how it\nworks.\"\n\n\"So you shall,\" said Challenger.  \"For some days I have exerted my\nwhole brain force upon the problem of how we shall descend from these\ncliffs.  We have satisfied ourselves that we cannot climb down and that\nthere is no tunnel.  We are also unable to construct any kind of bridge\nwhich may take us back to the pinnacle from which we came.  How then\nshall I find a means to convey us?  Some little time ago I had remarked\nto our young friend here that free hydrogen was evolved from the\ngeyser.  The idea of a balloon naturally followed.  I was, I will\nadmit, somewhat baffled by the difficulty of discovering an envelope to\ncontain the gas, but the contemplation of the immense entrails of these\nreptiles supplied me with a solution to the problem.  Behold the\nresult!\"\n\nHe put one hand in the front of his ragged jacket and pointed proudly\nwith the other.\n\nBy this time the gas-bag had swollen to a goodly rotundity and was\njerking strongly upon its lashings.\n\n\"Midsummer madness!\" snorted Summerlee.\n\nLord John was delighted with the whole idea.  \"Clever old dear, ain't\nhe?\" he whispered to me, and then louder to Challenger.  \"What about a\ncar?\"\n\n\"The car will be my next care.  I have already planned how it is to be\nmade and attached.  Meanwhile I will simply show you how capable my\napparatus is of supporting the weight of each of us.\"\n\n\"All of us, surely?\"\n\n\"No, it is part of my plan that each in turn shall descend as in a\nparachute, and the balloon be drawn back by means which I shall have no\ndifficulty in perfecting.  If it will support the weight of one and let\nhim gently down, it will have done all that is required of it.  I will\nnow show you its capacity in that direction.\"\n\nHe brought out a lump of basalt of a considerable size, constructed in\nthe middle so that a cord could be easily attached to it.  This cord\nwas the one which we had brought with us on to the plateau after we had\nused it for climbing the pinnacle.  It was over a hundred feet long,\nand though it was thin it was very strong.  He had prepared a sort of\ncollar of leather with many straps depending from it.  This collar was\nplaced over the dome of the balloon, and the hanging thongs were\ngathered together below, so that the pressure of any weight would be\ndiffused over a considerable surface.  Then the lump of basalt was\nfastened to the thongs, and the rope was allowed to hang from the end\nof it, being passed three times round the Professor's arm.\n\n\"I will now,\" said Challenger, with a smile of pleased anticipation,\n\"demonstrate the carrying power of my balloon.\" As he said so he cut\nwith a knife the various lashings that held it.\n\nNever was our expedition in more imminent danger of complete\nannihilation.  The inflated membrane shot up with frightful velocity\ninto the air.  In an instant Challenger was pulled off his feet and\ndragged after it.  I had just time to throw my arms round his ascending\nwaist when I was myself whipped up into the air.  Lord John had me with\na rat-trap grip round the legs, but I felt that he also was coming off\nthe ground.  For a moment I had a vision of four adventurers floating\nlike a string of sausages over the land that they had explored.  But,\nhappily, there were limits to the strain which the rope would stand,\nthough none apparently to the lifting powers of this infernal machine.\nThere was a sharp crack, and we were in a heap upon the ground with\ncoils of rope all over us.  When we were able to stagger to our feet we\nsaw far off in the deep blue sky one dark spot where the lump of basalt\nwas speeding upon its way.\n\n\"Splendid!\" cried the undaunted Challenger, rubbing his injured arm.\n\"A most thorough and satisfactory demonstration!  I could not have\nanticipated such a success.  Within a week, gentlemen, I promise that a\nsecond balloon will be prepared, and that you can count upon taking in\nsafety and comfort the first stage of our homeward journey.\" So far I\nhave written each of the foregoing events as it occurred.  Now I am\nrounding off my narrative from the old camp, where Zambo has waited so\nlong, with all our difficulties and dangers left like a dream behind us\nupon the summit of those vast ruddy crags which tower above our heads.\nWe have descended in safety, though in a most unexpected fashion, and\nall is well with us.  In six weeks or two months we shall be in London,\nand it is possible that this letter may not reach you much earlier than\nwe do ourselves.  Already our hearts yearn and our spirits fly towards\nthe great mother city which holds so much that is dear to us.\n\nIt was on the very evening of our perilous adventure with Challenger's\nhome-made balloon that the change came in our fortunes.  I have said\nthat the one person from whom we had had some sign of sympathy in our\nattempts to get away was the young chief whom we had rescued.  He alone\nhad no desire to hold us against our will in a strange land.  He had\ntold us as much by his expressive language of signs.  That evening,\nafter dusk, he came down to our little camp, handed me (for some reason\nhe had always shown his attentions to me, perhaps because I was the one\nwho was nearest his age) a small roll of the bark of a tree, and then\npointing solemnly up at the row of caves above him, he had put his\nfinger to his lips as a sign of secrecy and had stolen back again to\nhis people.\n\nI took the slip of bark to the firelight and we examined it together.\nIt was about a foot square, and on the inner side there was a singular\narrangement of lines, which I here reproduce:\n\n\nThey were neatly done in charcoal upon the white surface, and looked to\nme at first sight like some sort of rough musical score.\n\n\"Whatever it is, I can swear that it is of importance to us,\" said I.\n\"I could read that on his face as he gave it.\"\n\n\"Unless we have come upon a primitive practical joker,\" Summerlee\nsuggested, \"which I should think would be one of the most elementary\ndevelopments of man.\"\n\n\"It is clearly some sort of script,\" said Challenger.\n\n\"Looks like a guinea puzzle competition,\" remarked Lord John, craning\nhis neck to have a look at it.  Then suddenly he stretched out his hand\nand seized the puzzle.\n\n\"By George!\" he cried, \"I believe I've got it.  The boy guessed right\nthe very first time.  See here!  How many marks are on that paper?\nEighteen.  Well, if you come to think of it there are eighteen cave\nopenings on the hill-side above us.\"\n\n\"He pointed up to the caves when he gave it to me,\" said I.\n\n\"Well, that settles it.  This is a chart of the caves.  What!  Eighteen\nof them all in a row, some short, some deep, some branching, same as we\nsaw them.  It's a map, and here's a cross on it. What's the cross for?\nIt is placed to mark one that is much deeper than the others.\"\n\n\"One that goes through,\" I cried.\n\n\"I believe our young friend has read the riddle,\" said Challenger.  \"If\nthe cave does not go through I do not understand why this person, who\nhas every reason to mean us well, should have drawn our attention to\nit.  But if it does go through and comes out at the corresponding point\non the other side, we should not have more than a hundred feet to\ndescend.\"\n\n\"A hundred feet!\" grumbled Summerlee.\n\n\"Well, our rope is still more than a hundred feet long,\" I cried.\n\"Surely we could get down.\"\n\n\"How about the Indians in the cave?\" Summerlee objected.\n\n\"There are no Indians in any of the caves above our heads,\" said I.\n\"They are all used as barns and store-houses.  Why should we not go up\nnow at once and spy out the land?\"\n\nThere is a dry bituminous wood upon the plateau--a species of\naraucaria, according to our botanist--which is always used by the\nIndians for torches.  Each of us picked up a faggot of this, and we\nmade our way up weed-covered steps to the particular cave which was\nmarked in the drawing.  It was, as I had said, empty, save for a great\nnumber of enormous bats, which flapped round our heads as we advanced\ninto it.  As we had no desire to draw the attention of the Indians to\nour proceedings, we stumbled along in the dark until we had gone round\nseveral curves and penetrated a considerable distance into the cavern.\nThen, at last, we lit our torches.  It was a beautiful dry tunnel with\nsmooth gray walls covered with native symbols, a curved roof which\narched over our heads, and white glistening sand beneath our feet.  We\nhurried eagerly along it until, with a deep groan of bitter\ndisappointment, we were brought to a halt.  A sheer wall of rock had\nappeared before us, with no chink through which a mouse could have\nslipped.  There was no escape for us there.\n\nWe stood with bitter hearts staring at this unexpected obstacle.  It\nwas not the result of any convulsion, as in the case of the ascending\ntunnel.  The end wall was exactly like the side ones.  It was, and had\nalways been, a cul-de-sac.\n\n\"Never mind, my friends,\" said the indomitable Challenger.  \"You have\nstill my firm promise of a balloon.\"\n\nSummerlee groaned.\n\n\"Can we be in the wrong cave?\" I suggested.\n\n\"No use, young fellah,\" said Lord John, with his finger on the chart.\n\"Seventeen from the right and second from the left.  This is the cave\nsure enough.\"\n\nI looked at the mark to which his finger pointed, and I gave a sudden\ncry of joy.\n\n\"I believe I have it!  Follow me!  Follow me!\"\n\nI hurried back along the way we had come, my torch in my hand.  \"Here,\"\nsaid I, pointing to some matches upon the ground, \"is where we lit up.\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"Well, it is marked as a forked cave, and in the darkness we passed the\nfork before the torches were lit.  On the right side as we go out we\nshould find the longer arm.\"\n\nIt was as I had said.  We had not gone thirty yards before a great\nblack opening loomed in the wall.  We turned into it to find that we\nwere in a much larger passage than before.  Along it we hurried in\nbreathless impatience for many hundreds of yards.  Then, suddenly, in\nthe black darkness of the arch in front of us we saw a gleam of dark\nred light.  We stared in amazement.  A sheet of steady flame seemed to\ncross the passage and to bar our way.  We hastened towards it.  No\nsound, no heat, no movement came from it, but still the great luminous\ncurtain glowed before us, silvering all the cave and turning the sand\nto powdered jewels, until as we drew closer it discovered a circular\nedge.\n\n\"The moon, by George!\" cried Lord John.  \"We are through, boys!  We are\nthrough!\"\n\nIt was indeed the full moon which shone straight down the aperture\nwhich opened upon the cliffs.  It was a small rift, not larger than a\nwindow, but it was enough for all our purposes.  As we craned our necks\nthrough it we could see that the descent was not a very difficult one,\nand that the level ground was no very great way below us.  It was no\nwonder that from below we had not observed the place, as the cliffs\ncurved overhead and an ascent at the spot would have seemed so\nimpossible as to discourage close inspection.  We satisfied ourselves\nthat with the help of our rope we could find our way down, and then\nreturned, rejoicing, to our camp to make our preparations for the next\nevening.\n\nWhat we did we had to do quickly and secretly, since even at this last\nhour the Indians might hold us back.  Our stores we would leave behind\nus, save only our guns and cartridges.  But Challenger had some\nunwieldy stuff which he ardently desired to take with him, and one\nparticular package, of which I may not speak, which gave us more labor\nthan any.  Slowly the day passed, but when the darkness fell we were\nready for our departure.  With much labor we got our things up the\nsteps, and then, looking back, took one last long survey of that\nstrange land, soon I fear to be vulgarized, the prey of hunter and\nprospector, but to each of us a dreamland of glamour and romance, a\nland where we had dared much, suffered much, and learned much--OUR\nland, as we shall ever fondly call it.  Along upon our left the\nneighboring caves each threw out its ruddy cheery firelight into the\ngloom.  From the slope below us rose the voices of the Indians as they\nlaughed and sang.  Beyond was the long sweep of the woods, and in the\ncenter, shimmering vaguely through the gloom, was the great lake, the\nmother of strange monsters.  Even as we looked a high whickering cry,\nthe call of some weird animal, rang clear out of the darkness.  It was\nthe very voice of Maple White Land bidding us good-bye.  We turned and\nplunged into the cave which led to home.\n\nTwo hours later, we, our packages, and all we owned, were at the foot\nof the cliff.  Save for Challenger's luggage we had never a difficulty.\nLeaving it all where we descended, we started at once for Zambo's camp.\nIn the early morning we approached it, but only to find, to our\namazement, not one fire but a dozen upon the plain.  The rescue party\nhad arrived.  There were twenty Indians from the river, with stakes,\nropes, and all that could be useful for bridging the chasm.  At least\nwe shall have no difficulty now in carrying our packages, when\nto-morrow we begin to make our way back to the Amazon.\n\nAnd so, in humble and thankful mood, I close this account.  Our eyes\nhave seen great wonders and our souls are chastened by what we have\nendured.  Each is in his own way a better and deeper man.  It may be\nthat when we reach Para we shall stop to refit.  If we do, this letter\nwill be a mail ahead.  If not, it will reach London on the very day\nthat I do.  In either case, my dear Mr. McArdle, I hope very soon to\nshake you by the hand.\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER XVI\n\n                  \"A Procession!  A Procession!\"\n\nI should wish to place upon record here our gratitude to all our\nfriends upon the Amazon for the very great kindness and hospitality\nwhich was shown to us upon our return journey.  Very particularly would\nI thank Senhor Penalosa and other officials of the Brazilian Government\nfor the special arrangements by which we were helped upon our way, and\nSenhor Pereira of Para, to whose forethought we owe the complete outfit\nfor a decent appearance in the civilized world which we found ready for\nus at that town.  It seemed a poor return for all the courtesy which we\nencountered that we should deceive our hosts and benefactors, but under\nthe circumstances we had really no alternative, and I hereby tell them\nthat they will only waste their time and their money if they attempt to\nfollow upon our traces.  Even the names have been altered in our\naccounts, and I am very sure that no one, from the most careful study\nof them, could come within a thousand miles of our unknown land.\n\nThe excitement which had been caused through those parts of South\nAmerica which we had to traverse was imagined by us to be purely local,\nand I can assure our friends in England that we had no notion of the\nuproar which the mere rumor of our experiences had caused through\nEurope.  It was not until the Ivernia was within five hundred miles of\nSouthampton that the wireless messages from paper after paper and\nagency after agency, offering huge prices for a short return message as\nto our actual results, showed us how strained was the attention not\nonly of the scientific world but of the general public.  It was agreed\namong us, however, that no definite statement should be given to the\nPress until we had met the members of the Zoological Institute, since\nas delegates it was our clear duty to give our first report to the body\nfrom which we had received our commission of investigation.  Thus,\nalthough we found Southampton full of Pressmen, we absolutely refused\nto give any information, which had the natural effect of focussing\npublic attention upon the meeting which was advertised for the evening\nof November 7th.  For this gathering, the Zoological Hall which had\nbeen the scene of the inception of our task was found to be far too\nsmall, and it was only in the Queen's Hall in Regent Street that\naccommodation could be found.  It is now common knowledge the promoters\nmight have ventured upon the Albert Hall and still found their space\ntoo scanty.\n\nIt was for the second evening after our arrival that the great meeting\nhad been fixed.  For the first, we had each, no doubt, our own pressing\npersonal affairs to absorb us.  Of mine I cannot yet speak.  It may be\nthat as it stands further from me I may think of it, and even speak of\nit, with less emotion.  I have shown the reader in the beginning of\nthis narrative where lay the springs of my action.  It is but right,\nperhaps, that I should carry on the tale and show also the results.\nAnd yet the day may come when I would not have it otherwise.  At least\nI have been driven forth to take part in a wondrous adventure, and I\ncannot but be thankful to the force that drove me.\n\nAnd now I turn to the last supreme eventful moment of our adventure.\nAs I was racking my brain as to how I should best describe it, my eyes\nfell upon the issue of my own Journal for the morning of the 8th of\nNovember with the full and excellent account of my friend and\nfellow-reporter Macdona.  What can I do better than transcribe his\nnarrative--head-lines and all?  I admit that the paper was exuberant in\nthe matter, out of compliment to its own enterprise in sending a\ncorrespondent, but the other great dailies were hardly less full in\ntheir account.  Thus, then, friend Mac in his report:\n\n\n                           THE NEW WORLD\n                 GREAT MEETING AT THE QUEEN'S HALL\n                          SCENES OF UPROAR\n                       EXTRAORDINARY INCIDENT\n                            WHAT WAS IT?\n                 NOCTURNAL RIOT IN REGENT STREET\n                             (Special)\n\n\n\"The much-discussed meeting of the Zoological Institute, convened to\nhear the report of the Committee of Investigation sent out last year to\nSouth America to test the assertions made by Professor Challenger as to\nthe continued existence of prehistoric life upon that Continent, was\nheld last night in the greater Queen's Hall, and it is safe to say that\nit is likely to be a red letter date in the history of Science, for the\nproceedings were of so remarkable and sensational a character that no\none present is ever likely to forget them.\"  (Oh, brother scribe\nMacdona, what a monstrous opening sentence!)  \"The tickets were\ntheoretically confined to members and their friends, but the latter is\nan elastic term, and long before eight o'clock, the hour fixed for the\ncommencement of the proceedings, all parts of the Great Hall were\ntightly packed.  The general public, however, which most unreasonably\nentertained a grievance at having been excluded, stormed the doors at a\nquarter to eight, after a prolonged melee in which several people were\ninjured, including Inspector Scoble of H. Division, whose leg was\nunfortunately broken.  After this unwarrantable invasion, which not\nonly filled every passage, but even intruded upon the space set apart\nfor the Press, it is estimated that nearly five thousand people awaited\nthe arrival of the travelers.  When they eventually appeared, they took\ntheir places in the front of a platform which already contained all the\nleading scientific men, not only of this country, but of France and of\nGermany.  Sweden was also represented, in the person of Professor\nSergius, the famous Zoologist of the University of Upsala.  The\nentrance of the four heroes of the occasion was the signal for a\nremarkable demonstration of welcome, the whole audience rising and\ncheering for some minutes.  An acute observer might, however, have\ndetected some signs of dissent amid the applause, and gathered that the\nproceedings were likely to become more lively than harmonious.  It may\nsafely be prophesied, however, that no one could have foreseen the\nextraordinary turn which they were actually to take.\n\n\"Of the appearance of the four wanderers little need be said, since\ntheir photographs have for some time been appearing in all the papers.\nThey bear few traces of the hardships which they are said to have\nundergone.  Professor Challenger's beard may be more shaggy, Professor\nSummerlee's features more ascetic, Lord John Roxton's figure more\ngaunt, and all three may be burned to a darker tint than when they left\nour shores, but each appeared to be in most excellent health.  As to\nour own representative, the well-known athlete and international Rugby\nfootball player, E. D.  Malone, he looks trained to a hair, and as he\nsurveyed the crowd a smile of good-humored contentment pervaded his\nhonest but homely face.\"  (All right, Mac, wait till I get you alone!)\n\n\"When quiet had been restored and the audience resumed their seats\nafter the ovation which they had given to the travelers, the chairman,\nthe Duke of Durham, addressed the meeting.  'He would not,' he said,\n'stand for more than a moment between that vast assembly and the treat\nwhich lay before them.  It was not for him to anticipate what Professor\nSummerlee, who was the spokesman of the committee, had to say to them,\nbut it was common rumor that their expedition had been crowned by\nextraordinary success.'  (Applause.)  'Apparently the age of romance\nwas not dead, and there was common ground upon which the wildest\nimaginings of the novelist could meet the actual scientific\ninvestigations of the searcher for truth.  He would only add, before he\nsat down, that he rejoiced--and all of them would rejoice--that these\ngentlemen had returned safe and sound from their difficult and\ndangerous task, for it cannot be denied that any disaster to such an\nexpedition would have inflicted a well-nigh irreparable loss to the\ncause of Zoological science.' (Great applause, in which Professor\nChallenger was observed to join.)\n\n\"Professor Summerlee's rising was the signal for another extraordinary\noutbreak of enthusiasm, which broke out again at intervals throughout\nhis address.  That address will not be given in extenso in these\ncolumns, for the reason that a full account of the whole adventures of\nthe expedition is being published as a supplement from the pen of our\nown special correspondent.  Some general indications will therefore\nsuffice. Having described the genesis of their journey, and paid a\nhandsome tribute to his friend Professor Challenger, coupled with an\napology for the incredulity with which his assertions, now fully\nvindicated, had been received, he gave the actual course of their\njourney, carefully withholding such information as would aid the public\nin any attempt to locate this remarkable plateau.  Having described, in\ngeneral terms, their course from the main river up to the time that\nthey actually reached the base of the cliffs, he enthralled his hearers\nby his account of the difficulties encountered by the expedition in\ntheir repeated attempts to mount them, and finally described how they\nsucceeded in their desperate endeavors, which cost the lives of their\ntwo devoted half-breed servants.\" (This amazing reading of the affair\nwas the result of Summerlee's endeavors to avoid raising any\nquestionable matter at the meeting.)\n\n\"Having conducted his audience in fancy to the summit, and marooned\nthem there by reason of the fall of their bridge, the Professor\nproceeded to describe both the horrors and the attractions of that\nremarkable land.  Of personal adventures he said little, but laid\nstress upon the rich harvest reaped by Science in the observations of\nthe wonderful beast, bird, insect, and plant life of the plateau.\nPeculiarly rich in the coleoptera and in the lepidoptera, forty-six new\nspecies of the one and ninety-four of the other had been secured in the\ncourse of a few weeks.  It was, however, in the larger animals, and\nespecially in the larger animals supposed to have been long extinct,\nthat the interest of the public was naturally centered.  Of these he\nwas able to give a goodly list, but had little doubt that it would be\nlargely extended when the place had been more thoroughly investigated.\nHe and his companions had seen at least a dozen creatures, most of them\nat a distance, which corresponded with nothing at present known to\nScience.  These would in time be duly classified and examined.  He\ninstanced a snake, the cast skin of which, deep purple in color, was\nfifty-one feet in length, and mentioned a white creature, supposed to\nbe mammalian, which gave forth well-marked phosphorescence in the\ndarkness; also a large black moth, the bite of which was supposed by\nthe Indians to be highly poisonous.  Setting aside these entirely new\nforms of life, the plateau was very rich in known prehistoric forms,\ndating back in some cases to early Jurassic times.  Among these he\nmentioned the gigantic and grotesque stegosaurus, seen once by Mr.\nMalone at a drinking-place by the lake, and drawn in the sketch-book of\nthat adventurous American who had first penetrated this unknown world.\nHe described also the iguanodon and the pterodactyl--two of the first\nof the wonders which they had encountered.  He then thrilled the\nassembly by some account of the terrible carnivorous dinosaurs, which\nhad on more than one occasion pursued members of the party, and which\nwere the most formidable of all the creatures which they had\nencountered.  Thence he passed to the huge and ferocious bird, the\nphororachus, and to the great elk which still roams upon this upland.\nIt was not, however, until he sketched the mysteries of the central\nlake that the full interest and enthusiasm of the audience were\naroused.  One had to pinch oneself to be sure that one was awake as one\nheard this sane and practical Professor in cold measured tones\ndescribing the monstrous three-eyed fish-lizards and the huge\nwater-snakes which inhabit this enchanted sheet of water.  Next he\ntouched upon the Indians, and upon the extraordinary colony of\nanthropoid apes, which might be looked upon as an advance upon the\npithecanthropus of Java, and as coming therefore nearer than any known\nform to that hypothetical creation, the missing link.  Finally he\ndescribed, amongst some merriment, the ingenious but highly dangerous\naeronautic invention of Professor Challenger, and wound up a most\nmemorable address by an account of the methods by which the committee\ndid at last find their way back to civilization.\n\n\"It had been hoped that the proceedings would end there, and that a\nvote of thanks and congratulation, moved by Professor Sergius, of\nUpsala University, would be duly seconded and carried; but it was soon\nevident that the course of events was not destined to flow so smoothly.\nSymptoms of opposition had been evident from time to time during the\nevening, and now Dr. James Illingworth, of Edinburgh, rose in the\ncenter of the hall.  Dr. Illingworth asked whether an amendment should\nnot be taken before a resolution.\n\n\"THE CHAIRMAN:  'Yes, sir, if there must be an amendment.'\n\n\"DR. ILLINGWORTH:  'Your Grace, there must be an amendment.'\n\n\"THE CHAIRMAN:  'Then let us take it at once.'\n\n\"PROFESSOR SUMMERLEE (springing to his feet):  'Might I explain, your\nGrace, that this man is my personal enemy ever since our controversy in\nthe Quarterly Journal of Science as to the true nature of Bathybius?'\n\n\"THE CHAIRMAN:  'I fear I cannot go into personal matters.  Proceed.'\n\n\"Dr. Illingworth was imperfectly heard in part of his remarks on\naccount of the strenuous opposition of the friends of the explorers.\nSome attempts were also made to pull him down.  Being a man of enormous\nphysique, however, and possessed of a very powerful voice, he dominated\nthe tumult and succeeded in finishing his speech.  It was clear, from\nthe moment of his rising, that he had a number of friends and\nsympathizers in the hall, though they formed a minority in the\naudience.  The attitude of the greater part of the public might be\ndescribed as one of attentive neutrality.\n\n\"Dr. Illingworth began his remarks by expressing his high appreciation\nof the scientific work both of Professor Challenger and of Professor\nSummerlee.  He much regretted that any personal bias should have been\nread into his remarks, which were entirely dictated by his desire for\nscientific truth.  His position, in fact, was substantially the same as\nthat taken up by Professor Summerlee at the last meeting.  At that last\nmeeting Professor Challenger had made certain assertions which had been\nqueried by his colleague.  Now this colleague came forward himself with\nthe same assertions and expected them to remain unquestioned.  Was this\nreasonable?  ('Yes,' 'No,' and prolonged interruption, during which\nProfessor Challenger was heard from the Press box to ask leave from the\nchairman to put Dr. Illingworth into the street.) A year ago one man\nsaid certain things.  Now four men said other and more startling ones.\nWas this to constitute a final proof where the matters in question were\nof the most revolutionary and incredible character?  There had been\nrecent examples of travelers arriving from the unknown with certain\ntales which had been too readily accepted.  Was the London Zoological\nInstitute to place itself in this position?  He admitted that the\nmembers of the committee were men of character.  But human nature was\nvery complex.  Even Professors might be misled by the desire for\nnotoriety.  Like moths, we all love best to flutter in the light.\nHeavy-game shots liked to be in a position to cap the tales of their\nrivals, and journalists were not averse from sensational coups, even\nwhen imagination had to aid fact in the process.  Each member of the\ncommittee had his own motive for making the most of his results.\n('Shame! shame!')  He had no desire to be offensive.  ('You are!' and\ninterruption.)  The corroboration of these wondrous tales was really of\nthe most slender description.  What did it amount to?  Some\nphotographs. {Was it possible that in this age of ingenious\nmanipulation photographs could be accepted as evidence?}  What more?\nWe have a story of a flight and a descent by ropes which precluded the\nproduction of larger specimens.  It was ingenious, but not convincing.\nIt was understood that Lord John Roxton claimed to have the skull of a\nphororachus.  He could only say that he would like to see that skull.\n\n\"LORD JOHN ROXTON:  'Is this fellow calling me a liar?' (Uproar.)\n\n\"THE CHAIRMAN:  'Order! order!  Dr. Illingworth, I must direct you to\nbring your remarks to a conclusion and to move your amendment.'\n\n\"DR. ILLINGWORTH:  'Your Grace, I have more to say, but I bow to your\nruling.  I move, then, that, while Professor Summerlee be thanked for\nhis interesting address, the whole matter shall be regarded as\n'non-proven,' and shall be referred back to a larger, and possibly more\nreliable Committee of Investigation.'\n\n\"It is difficult to describe the confusion caused by this amendment.  A\nlarge section of the audience expressed their indignation at such a\nslur upon the travelers by noisy shouts of dissent and cries of, 'Don't\nput it!'  'Withdraw!'  'Turn him out!'  On the other hand, the\nmalcontents--and it cannot be denied that they were fairly\nnumerous--cheered for the amendment, with cries of 'Order!' 'Chair!'\nand 'Fair play!'  A scuffle broke out in the back benches, and blows\nwere freely exchanged among the medical students who crowded that part\nof the hall.  It was only the moderating influence of the presence of\nlarge numbers of ladies which prevented an absolute riot.  Suddenly,\nhowever, there was a pause, a hush, and then complete silence.\nProfessor Challenger was on his feet.  His appearance and manner are\npeculiarly arresting, and as he raised his hand for order the whole\naudience settled down expectantly to give him a hearing.\n\n\"'It will be within the recollection of many present,' said Professor\nChallenger, 'that similar foolish and unmannerly scenes marked the last\nmeeting at which I have been able to address them.  On that occasion\nProfessor Summerlee was the chief offender, and though he is now\nchastened and contrite, the matter could not be entirely forgotten.  I\nhave heard to-night similar, but even more offensive, sentiments from\nthe person who has just sat down, and though it is a conscious effort\nof self-effacement to come down to that person's mental level, I will\nendeavor to do so, in order to allay any reasonable doubt which could\npossibly exist in the minds of anyone.'  (Laughter and interruption.)\n'I need not remind this audience that, though Professor Summerlee, as\nthe head of the Committee of Investigation, has been put up to speak\nto-night, still it is I who am the real prime mover in this business,\nand that it is mainly to me that any successful result must be\nascribed.  I have safely conducted these three gentlemen to the spot\nmentioned, and I have, as you have heard, convinced them of the\naccuracy of my previous account.  We had hoped that we should find upon\nour return that no one was so dense as to dispute our joint\nconclusions.  Warned, however, by my previous experience, I have not\ncome without such proofs as may convince a reasonable man.  As\nexplained by Professor Summerlee, our cameras have been tampered with\nby the ape-men when they ransacked our camp, and most of our negatives\nruined.' (Jeers, laughter, and 'Tell us another!' from the back.)  'I\nhave mentioned the ape-men, and I cannot forbear from saying that some\nof the sounds which now meet my ears bring back most vividly to my\nrecollection my experiences with those interesting creatures.'\n(Laughter.)  'In spite of the destruction of so many invaluable\nnegatives, there still remains in our collection a certain number of\ncorroborative photographs showing the conditions of life upon the\nplateau.  Did they accuse them of having forged these photographs?' (A\nvoice, 'Yes,' and considerable interruption which ended in several men\nbeing put out of the hall.)  'The negatives were open to the inspection\nof experts.  But what other evidence had they?  Under the conditions of\ntheir escape it was naturally impossible to bring a large amount of\nbaggage, but they had rescued Professor Summerlee's collections of\nbutterflies and beetles, containing many new species.  Was this not\nevidence?'  (Several voices, 'No.') 'Who said no?'\n\n\"DR. ILLINGWORTH (rising):  'Our point is that such a collection might\nhave been made in other places than a prehistoric plateau.' (Applause.)\n\n\"PROFESSOR CHALLENGER:  'No doubt, sir, we have to bow to your\nscientific authority, although I must admit that the name is\nunfamiliar.  Passing, then, both the photographs and the entomological\ncollection, I come to the varied and accurate information which we\nbring with us upon points which have never before been elucidated.  For\nexample, upon the domestic habits of the pterodactyl--'(A voice:\n'Bosh,' and uproar)--'I say, that upon the domestic habits of the\npterodactyl we can throw a flood of light.  I can exhibit to you from\nmy portfolio a picture of that creature taken from life which would\nconvince you----'\n\n\"DR. ILLINGWORTH:  'No picture could convince us of anything.'\n\n\"PROFESSOR CHALLENGER:  'You would require to see the thing itself?'\n\n\"DR. ILLINGWORTH:  'Undoubtedly.'\n\n\"PROFESSOR CHALLENGER:  'And you would accept that?'\n\n\"DR. ILLINGWORTH (laughing):  'Beyond a doubt.'\n\n\"It was at this point that the sensation of the evening arose--a\nsensation so dramatic that it can never have been paralleled in the\nhistory of scientific gatherings.  Professor Challenger raised his hand\nin the air as a signal, and at once our colleague, Mr. E. D. Malone,\nwas observed to rise and to make his way to the back of the platform.\nAn instant later he re-appeared in company of a gigantic negro, the two\nof them bearing between them a large square packing-case.  It was\nevidently of great weight, and was slowly carried forward and placed in\nfront of the Professor's chair.  All sound had hushed in the audience\nand everyone was absorbed in the spectacle before them.  Professor\nChallenger drew off the top of the case, which formed a sliding lid.\nPeering down into the box he snapped his fingers several times and was\nheard from the Press seat to say, 'Come, then, pretty, pretty!' in a\ncoaxing voice.  An instant later, with a scratching, rattling sound, a\nmost horrible and loathsome creature appeared from below and perched\nitself upon the side of the case.  Even the unexpected fall of the Duke\nof Durham into the orchestra, which occurred at this moment, could not\ndistract the petrified attention of the vast audience.  The face of the\ncreature was like the wildest gargoyle that the imagination of a mad\nmedieval builder could have conceived.  It was malicious, horrible,\nwith two small red eyes as bright as points of burning coal.  Its long,\nsavage mouth, which was held half-open, was full of a double row of\nshark-like teeth.  Its shoulders were humped, and round them were\ndraped what appeared to be a faded gray shawl.  It was the devil of our\nchildhood in person.  There was a turmoil in the audience--someone\nscreamed, two ladies in the front row fell senseless from their chairs,\nand there was a general movement upon the platform to follow their\nchairman into the orchestra.  For a moment there was danger of a\ngeneral panic.  Professor Challenger threw up his hands to still the\ncommotion, but the movement alarmed the creature beside him.  Its\nstrange shawl suddenly unfurled, spread, and fluttered as a pair of\nleathery wings.  Its owner grabbed at its legs, but too late to hold\nit.  It had sprung from the perch and was circling slowly round the\nQueen's Hall with a dry, leathery flapping of its ten-foot wings, while\na putrid and insidious odor pervaded the room.  The cries of the people\nin the galleries, who were alarmed at the near approach of those\nglowing eyes and that murderous beak, excited the creature to a frenzy.\nFaster and faster it flew, beating against walls and chandeliers in a\nblind frenzy of alarm.  'The window!  For heaven's sake shut that\nwindow!' roared the Professor from the platform, dancing and wringing\nhis hands in an agony of apprehension.  Alas, his warning was too late!\nIn a moment the creature, beating and bumping along the wall like a\nhuge moth within a gas-shade, came upon the opening, squeezed its\nhideous bulk through it, and was gone.  Professor Challenger fell back\ninto his chair with his face buried in his hands, while the audience\ngave one long, deep sigh of relief as they realized that the incident\nwas over.\n\n\"Then--oh! how shall one describe what took place then--when the full\nexuberance of the majority and the full reaction of the minority united\nto make one great wave of enthusiasm, which rolled from the back of the\nhall, gathering volume as it came, swept over the orchestra, submerged\nthe platform, and carried the four heroes away upon its crest?\"  (Good\nfor you, Mac!)  \"If the audience had done less than justice, surely it\nmade ample amends.  Every one was on his feet.  Every one was moving,\nshouting, gesticulating.  A dense crowd of cheering men were round the\nfour travelers.  'Up with them! up with them!' cried a hundred voices.\nIn a moment four figures shot up above the crowd.  In vain they strove\nto break loose.  They were held in their lofty places of honor.  It\nwould have been hard to let them down if it had been wished, so dense\nwas the crowd around them.  'Regent Street!  Regent Street!' sounded\nthe voices.  There was a swirl in the packed multitude, and a slow\ncurrent, bearing the four upon their shoulders, made for the door.  Out\nin the street the scene was extraordinary.  An assemblage of not less\nthan a hundred thousand people was waiting.  The close-packed throng\nextended from the other side of the Langham Hotel to Oxford Circus.  A\nroar of acclamation greeted the four adventurers as they appeared, high\nabove the heads of the people, under the vivid electric lamps outside\nthe hall.  'A procession!  A procession!' was the cry.  In a dense\nphalanx, blocking the streets from side to side, the crowd set forth,\ntaking the route of Regent Street, Pall Mall, St. James's Street, and\nPiccadilly.  The whole central traffic of London was held up, and many\ncollisions were reported between the demonstrators upon the one side\nand the police and taxi-cabmen upon the other.  Finally, it was not\nuntil after midnight that the four travelers were released at the\nentrance to Lord John Roxton's chambers in the Albany, and that the\nexuberant crowd, having sung 'They are Jolly Good Fellows' in chorus,\nconcluded their program with 'God Save the King.' So ended one of the\nmost remarkable evenings that London has seen for a considerable time.\"\n\nSo far my friend Macdona; and it may be taken as a fairly accurate, if\nflorid, account of the proceedings.  As to the main incident, it was a\nbewildering surprise to the audience, but not, I need hardly say, to\nus.  The reader will remember how I met Lord John Roxton upon the very\noccasion when, in his protective crinoline, he had gone to bring the\n\"Devil's chick\" as he called it, for Professor Challenger.  I have\nhinted also at the trouble which the Professor's baggage gave us when\nwe left the plateau, and had I described our voyage I might have said a\ngood deal of the worry we had to coax with putrid fish the appetite of\nour filthy companion.  If I have not said much about it before, it was,\nof course, that the Professor's earnest desire was that no possible\nrumor of the unanswerable argument which we carried should be allowed\nto leak out until the moment came when his enemies were to be confuted.\n\nOne word as to the fate of the London pterodactyl.  Nothing can be said\nto be certain upon this point.  There is the evidence of two frightened\nwomen that it perched upon the roof of the Queen's Hall and remained\nthere like a diabolical statue for some hours.  The next day it came\nout in the evening papers that Private Miles, of the Coldstream Guards,\non duty outside Marlborough House, had deserted his post without leave,\nand was therefore courtmartialed.  Private Miles' account, that he\ndropped his rifle and took to his heels down the Mall because on\nlooking up he had suddenly seen the devil between him and the moon, was\nnot accepted by the Court, and yet it may have a direct bearing upon\nthe point at issue.  The only other evidence which I can adduce is from\nthe log of the SS. Friesland, a Dutch-American liner, which asserts\nthat at nine next morning, Start Point being at the time ten miles upon\ntheir starboard quarter, they were passed by something between a flying\ngoat and a monstrous bat, which was heading at a prodigious pace south\nand west.  If its homing instinct led it upon the right line, there can\nbe no doubt that somewhere out in the wastes of the Atlantic the last\nEuropean pterodactyl found its end.\n\nAnd Gladys--oh, my Gladys!--Gladys of the mystic lake, now to be\nre-named the Central, for never shall she have immortality through me.\nDid I not always see some hard fiber in her nature?  Did I not, even at\nthe time when I was proud to obey her behest, feel that it was surely a\npoor love which could drive a lover to his death or the danger of it?\nDid I not, in my truest thoughts, always recurring and always\ndismissed, see past the beauty of the face, and, peering into the soul,\ndiscern the twin shadows of selfishness and of fickleness glooming at\nthe back of it?  Did she love the heroic and the spectacular for its\nown noble sake, or was it for the glory which might, without effort or\nsacrifice, be reflected upon herself?  Or are these thoughts the vain\nwisdom which comes after the event?  It was the shock of my life.  For\na moment it had turned me to a cynic.  But already, as I write, a week\nhas passed, and we have had our momentous interview with Lord John\nRoxton and--well, perhaps things might be worse.\n\nLet me tell it in a few words.  No letter or telegram had come to me at\nSouthampton, and I reached the little villa at Streatham about ten\no'clock that night in a fever of alarm.  Was she dead or alive?  Where\nwere all my nightly dreams of the open arms, the smiling face, the\nwords of praise for her man who had risked his life to humor her whim?\nAlready I was down from the high peaks and standing flat-footed upon\nearth.  Yet some good reasons given might still lift me to the clouds\nonce more.  I rushed down the garden path, hammered at the door, heard\nthe voice of Gladys within, pushed past the staring maid, and strode\ninto the sitting-room.  She was seated in a low settee under the shaded\nstandard lamp by the piano.  In three steps I was across the room and\nhad both her hands in mine.\n\n\"Gladys!\" I cried, \"Gladys!\"\n\nShe looked up with amazement in her face.  She was altered in some\nsubtle way.  The expression of her eyes, the hard upward stare, the set\nof the lips, was new to me.  She drew back her hands.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" she said.\n\n\"Gladys!\" I cried.  \"What is the matter?  You are my Gladys, are you\nnot--little Gladys Hungerton?\"\n\n\"No,\" said she, \"I am Gladys Potts.  Let me introduce you to my\nhusband.\"\n\nHow absurd life is!  I found myself mechanically bowing and shaking\nhands with a little ginger-haired man who was coiled up in the deep\narm-chair which had once been sacred to my own use.  We bobbed and\ngrinned in front of each other.\n\n\"Father lets us stay here.  We are getting our house ready,\" said\nGladys.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said I.\n\n\"You didn't get my letter at Para, then?\"\n\n\"No, I got no letter.\"\n\n\"Oh, what a pity!  It would have made all clear.\"\n\n\"It is quite clear,\" said I.\n\n\"I've told William all about you,\" said she.  \"We have no secrets.  I\nam so sorry about it.  But it couldn't have been so very deep, could\nit, if you could go off to the other end of the world and leave me here\nalone.  You're not crabby, are you?\"\n\n\"No, no, not at all.  I think I'll go.\"\n\n\"Have some refreshment,\" said the little man, and he added, in a\nconfidential way, \"It's always like this, ain't it?  And must be unless\nyou had polygamy, only the other way round; you understand.\" He laughed\nlike an idiot, while I made for the door.\n\nI was through it, when a sudden fantastic impulse came upon me, and I\nwent back to my successful rival, who looked nervously at the electric\npush.\n\n\"Will you answer a question?\" I asked.\n\n\"Well, within reason,\" said he.\n\n\"How did you do it?  Have you searched for hidden treasure, or\ndiscovered a pole, or done time on a pirate, or flown the Channel, or\nwhat?  Where is the glamour of romance?  How did you get it?\"\n\nHe stared at me with a hopeless expression upon his vacuous,\ngood-natured, scrubby little face.\n\n\"Don't you think all this is a little too personal?\" he said.\n\n\"Well, just one question,\" I cried.  \"What are you?  What is your\nprofession?\"\n\n\"I am a solicitor's clerk,\" said he.  \"Second man at Johnson and\nMerivale's, 41 Chancery Lane.\"\n\n\"Good-night!\" said I, and vanished, like all disconsolate and\nbroken-hearted heroes, into the darkness, with grief and rage and\nlaughter all simmering within me like a boiling pot.\n\nOne more little scene, and I have done.  Last night we all supped at\nLord John Roxton's rooms, and sitting together afterwards we smoked in\ngood comradeship and talked our adventures over.  It was strange under\nthese altered surroundings to see the old, well-known faces and\nfigures.  There was Challenger, with his smile of condescension, his\ndrooping eyelids, his intolerant eyes, his aggressive beard, his huge\nchest, swelling and puffing as he laid down the law to Summerlee.  And\nSummerlee, too, there he was with his short briar between his thin\nmoustache and his gray goat's-beard, his worn face protruded in eager\ndebate as he queried all Challenger's propositions.  Finally, there was\nour host, with his rugged, eagle face, and his cold, blue, glacier eyes\nwith always a shimmer of devilment and of humor down in the depths of\nthem.  Such is the last picture of them that I have carried away.\n\nIt was after supper, in his own sanctum--the room of the pink radiance\nand the innumerable trophies--that Lord John Roxton had something to\nsay to us.  From a cupboard he had brought an old cigar-box, and this\nhe laid before him on the table.\n\n\"There's one thing,\" said he, \"that maybe I should have spoken about\nbefore this, but I wanted to know a little more clearly where I was.\nNo use to raise hopes and let them down again.  But it's facts, not\nhopes, with us now.  You may remember that day we found the pterodactyl\nrookery in the swamp--what?  Well, somethin' in the lie of the land\ntook my notice.  Perhaps it has escaped you, so I will tell you.  It\nwas a volcanic vent full of blue clay.\" The Professors nodded.\n\n\"Well, now, in the whole world I've only had to do with one place that\nwas a volcanic vent of blue clay.  That was the great De Beers Diamond\nMine of Kimberley--what?  So you see I got diamonds into my head.  I\nrigged up a contraption to hold off those stinking beasts, and I spent\na happy day there with a spud.  This is what I got.\"\n\nHe opened his cigar-box, and tilting it over he poured about twenty or\nthirty rough stones, varying from the size of beans to that of\nchestnuts, on the table.\n\n\"Perhaps you think I should have told you then.  Well, so I should,\nonly I know there are a lot of traps for the unwary, and that stones\nmay be of any size and yet of little value where color and consistency\nare clean off.  Therefore, I brought them back, and on the first day at\nhome I took one round to Spink's, and asked him to have it roughly cut\nand valued.\"\n\nHe took a pill-box from his pocket, and spilled out of it a beautiful\nglittering diamond, one of the finest stones that I have ever seen.\n\n\"There's the result,\" said he.  \"He prices the lot at a minimum of two\nhundred thousand pounds.  Of course it is fair shares between us.  I\nwon't hear of anythin' else.  Well, Challenger, what will you do with\nyour fifty thousand?\"\n\n\"If you really persist in your generous view,\" said the Professor, \"I\nshould found a private museum, which has long been one of my dreams.\"\n\n\"And you, Summerlee?\"\n\n\"I would retire from teaching, and so find time for my final\nclassification of the chalk fossils.\"\n\n\"I'll use my own,\" said Lord John Roxton, \"in fitting a well-formed\nexpedition and having another look at the dear old plateau.  As to you,\nyoung fellah, you, of course, will spend yours in gettin' married.\"\n\n\"Not just yet,\" said I, with a rueful smile.  \"I think, if you will\nhave me, that I would rather go with you.\"\n\nLord Roxton said nothing, but a brown hand was stretched out to me\nacross the table."