"The Lost Continent was originally published\n under the title Beyond Thirty\n\n\n\n\nTHE LOST CONTINENT\n\n\nby\n\nEdgar Rice Burroughs\n\n\nJTABLE 3 9 1\n\n\n\n1\n\n\nSince earliest childhood I have been strangely fascinated by the\nmystery surrounding the history of the last days of twentieth century\nEurope. My interest is keenest, perhaps, not so much in relation to\nknown facts as to speculation upon the unknowable of the two centuries\nthat have rolled by since human intercourse between the Western and\nEastern Hemispheres ceased--the mystery of Europe's state following the\ntermination of the Great War--provided, of course, that the war had\nbeen terminated.\n\nFrom out of the meagerness of our censored histories we learned that\nfor fifteen years after the cessation of diplomatic relations between\nthe United States of North America and the belligerent nations of the\nOld World, news of more or less doubtful authenticity filtered, from\ntime to time, into the Western Hemisphere from the Eastern.\n\nThen came the fruition of that historic propaganda which is best\ndescribed by its own slogan: \"The East for the East--the West for the\nWest,\" and all further intercourse was stopped by statute.\n\nEven prior to this, transoceanic commerce had practically ceased, owing\nto the perils and hazards of the mine-strewn waters of both the\nAtlantic and Pacific Oceans. Just when submarine activities ended we\ndo not know but the last vessel of this type sighted by a Pan-American\nmerchantman was the huge Q 138, which discharged twenty-nine torpedoes\nat a Brazilian tank steamer off the Bermudas in the fall of 1972. A\nheavy sea and the excellent seamanship of the master of the Brazilian\npermitted the Pan-American to escape and report this last of a long\nseries of outrages upon our commerce. God alone knows how many\nhundreds of our ancient ships fell prey to the roving steel sharks of\nblood-frenzied Europe. Countless were the vessels and men that passed\nover our eastern and western horizons never to return; but whether they\nmet their fates before the belching tubes of submarines or among the\naimlessly drifting mine fields, no man lived to tell.\n\nAnd then came the great Pan-American Federation which linked the\nWestern Hemisphere from pole to pole under a single flag, which joined\nthe navies of the New World into the mightiest fighting force that ever\nsailed the seven seas--the greatest argument for peace the world had\never known.\n\nSince that day peace had reigned from the western shores of the Azores\nto the western shores of the Hawaiian Islands, nor has any man of\neither hemisphere dared cross 30dW. or 175dW. From 30d to 175d is\nours--from 30d to 175d is peace, prosperity and happiness.\n\nBeyond was the great unknown. Even the geographies of my boyhood\nshowed nothing beyond. We were taught of nothing beyond. Speculation\nwas discouraged. For two hundred years the Eastern Hemisphere had been\nwiped from the maps and histories of Pan-America. Its mention in\nfiction, even, was forbidden.\n\nOur ships of peace patrol thirty and one hundred seventy-five. What\nships from beyond they have warned only the secret archives of\ngovernment show; but, a naval officer myself, I have gathered from the\ntraditions of the service that it has been fully two hundred years\nsince smoke or sail has been sighted east of 30d or west of 175d. The\nfate of the relinquished provinces which lay beyond the dead lines we\ncould only speculate upon. That they were taken by the military power,\nwhich rose so suddenly in China after the fall of the republic, and\nwhich wrested Manchuria and Korea from Russia and Japan, and also\nabsorbed the Philippines, is quite within the range of possibility.\n\nIt was the commander of a Chinese man-of-war who received a copy of the\nedict of 1972 from the hand of my illustrious ancestor, Admiral Turck,\non one hundred seventy-five, two hundred and six years ago, and from\nthe yellowed pages of the admiral's diary I learned that the fate of\nthe Philippines was even then presaged by these Chinese naval officers.\n\nYes, for over two hundred years no man crossed 30d to 175d and lived to\ntell his story--not until chance drew me across and back again, and\npublic opinion, revolting at last against the drastic regulations of\nour long-dead forbears, demanded that my story be given to the world,\nand that the narrow interdict which commanded peace, prosperity, and\nhappiness to halt at 30d and 175d be removed forever.\n\nI am glad that it was given to me to be an instrument in the hands of\nProvidence for the uplifting of benighted Europe, and the amelioration\nof the suffering, degradation, and abysmal ignorance in which I found\nher.\n\nI shall not live to see the complete regeneration of the savage hordes\nof the Eastern Hemisphere--that is a work which will require many\ngenerations, perhaps ages, so complete has been their reversion to\nsavagery; but I know that the work has been started, and I am proud of\nthe share in it which my generous countrymen have placed in my hands.\n\nThe government already possesses a complete official report of my\nadventures beyond thirty. In the narrative I purpose telling my story\nin a less formal, and I hope, a more entertaining, style; though, being\nonly a naval officer and without claim to the slightest literary\nability, I shall most certainly fall far short of the possibilities\nwhich are inherent in my subject. That I have passed through the most\nwondrous adventures that have befallen a civilized man during the past\ntwo centuries encourages me in the belief that, however ill the\ntelling, the facts themselves will command your interest to the final\npage.\n\nBeyond thirty! Romance, adventure, strange peoples, fearsome\nbeasts--all the excitement and scurry of the lives of the twentieth\ncentury ancients that have been denied us in these dull days of peace\nand prosaic prosperity--all, all lay beyond thirty, the invisible\nbarrier between the stupid, commercial present and the carefree,\nbarbarous past.\n\nWhat boy has not sighed for the good old days of wars, revolutions, and\nriots; how I used to pore over the chronicles of those old days, those\ndear old days, when workmen went armed to their labors; when they fell\nupon one another with gun and bomb and dagger, and the streets ran red\nwith blood! Ah, but those were the times when life was worth the\nliving; when a man who went out by night knew not at which dark corner\na \"footpad\" might leap upon and slay him; when wild beasts roamed the\nforest and the jungles, and there were savage men, and countries yet\nunexplored.\n\nNow, in all the Western Hemisphere dwells no man who may not find a\nschool house within walking distance of his home, or at least within\nflying distance.\n\nThe wildest beast that roams our waste places lairs in the frozen north\nor the frozen south within a government reserve, where the curious may\nview him and feed him bread crusts from the hand with perfect impunity.\n\nBut beyond thirty! And I have gone there, and come back; and now you\nmay go there, for no longer is it high treason, punishable by disgrace\nor death, to cross 30d or 175d.\n\nMy name is Jefferson Turck. I am a lieutenant in the navy--in the\ngreat Pan-American navy, the only navy which now exists in all the\nworld.\n\nI was born in Arizona, in the United States of North America, in the\nyear of our Lord 2116. Therefore, I am twenty-one years old.\n\nIn early boyhood I tired of the teeming cities and overcrowded rural\ndistricts of Arizona. Every generation of Turcks for over two\ncenturies has been represented in the navy. The navy called to me, as\ndid the free, wide, unpeopled spaces of the mighty oceans. And so I\njoined the navy, coming up from the ranks, as we all must, learning our\ncraft as we advance. My promotion was rapid, for my family seems to\ninherit naval lore. We are born officers, and I reserve to myself no\nspecial credit for an early advancement in the service.\n\nAt twenty I found myself a lieutenant in command of the aero-submarine\nColdwater, of the SS-96 class. The Coldwater was one of the first of\nthe air and underwater craft which have been so greatly improved since\nits launching, and was possessed of innumerable weaknesses which,\nfortunately, have been eliminated in more recent vessels of similar\ntype.\n\nEven when I took command, she was fit only for the junk pile; but the\nworld-old parsimony of government retained her in active service, and\nsent two hundred men to sea in her, with myself, a mere boy, in command\nof her, to patrol thirty from Iceland to the Azores.\n\nMuch of my service had been spent aboard the great merchantmen-of-war.\nThese are the utility naval vessels that have transformed the navies of\nold, which burdened the peoples with taxes for their support, into the\npresent day fleets of self-supporting ships that find ample time for\ntarget practice and gun drill while they bear freight and the mails\nfrom the continents to the far-scattered island of Pan-America.\n\nThis change in service was most welcome to me, especially as it brought\nwith it coveted responsibilities of sole command, and I was prone to\noverlook the deficiencies of the Coldwater in the natural pride I felt\nin my first ship.\n\nThe Coldwater was fully equipped for two months' patrolling--the\nordinary length of assignment to this service--and a month had already\npassed, its monotony entirely unrelieved by sight of another craft,\nwhen the first of our misfortunes befell.\n\nWe had been riding out a storm at an altitude of about three thousand\nfeet. All night we had hovered above the tossing billows of the\nmoonlight clouds. The detonation of the thunder and the glare of\nlightning through an occasional rift in the vaporous wall proclaimed\nthe continued fury of the tempest upon the surface of the sea; but we,\nfar above it all, rode in comparative ease upon the upper gale. With\nthe coming of dawn the clouds beneath us became a glorious sea of gold\nand silver, soft and beautiful; but they could not deceive us as to the\nblackness and the terrors of the storm-lashed ocean which they hid.\n\nI was at breakfast when my chief engineer entered and saluted. His\nface was grave, and I thought he was even a trifle paler than usual.\n\n\"Well?\" I asked.\n\nHe drew the back of his forefinger nervously across his brow in a\ngesture that was habitual with him in moments of mental stress.\n\n\"The gravitation-screen generators, sir,\" he said. \"Number one went to\nthe bad about an hour and a half ago. We have been working upon it\nsteadily since; but I have to report, sir, that it is beyond repair.\"\n\n\"Number two will keep us supplied,\" I answered. \"In the meantime we\nwill send a wireless for relief.\"\n\n\"But that is the trouble, sir,\" he went on. \"Number two has stopped.\nI knew it would come, sir. I made a report on these generators three\nyears ago. I advised then that they both be scrapped. Their principle\nis entirely wrong. They're done for.\" And, with a grim smile, \"I\nshall at least have the satisfaction of knowing my report was accurate.\"\n\n\"Have we sufficient reserve screen to permit us to make land, or, at\nleast, meet our relief halfway?\" I asked.\n\n\"No, sir,\" he replied gravely; \"we are sinking now.\"\n\n\"Have you anything further to report?\" I asked.\n\n\"No, sir,\" he said.\n\n\"Very good,\" I replied; and, as I dismissed him, I rang for my wireless\noperator. When he appeared, I gave him a message to the secretary of\nthe navy, to whom all vessels in service on thirty and one hundred\nseventy-five report direct. I explained our predicament, and stated\nthat with what screening force remained I should continue in the air,\nmaking as rapid headway toward St. Johns as possible, and that when we\nwere forced to take to the water I should continue in the same\ndirection.\n\nThe accident occurred directly over 30d and about 52d N. The surface\nwind was blowing a tempest from the west. To attempt to ride out such\na storm upon the surface seemed suicidal, for the Coldwater was not\ndesigned for surface navigation except under fair weather conditions.\nSubmerged, or in the air, she was tractable enough in any sort of\nweather when under control; but without her screen generators she was\nalmost helpless, since she could not fly, and, if submerged, could not\nrise to the surface.\n\nAll these defects have been remedied in later models; but the knowledge\ndid not help us any that day aboard the slowly settling Coldwater, with\nan angry sea roaring beneath, a tempest raging out of the west, and 30d\nonly a few knots astern.\n\nTo cross thirty or one hundred seventy-five has been, as you know, the\ndirest calamity that could befall a naval commander. Court-martial and\ndegradation follow swiftly, unless as is often the case, the\nunfortunate man takes his own life before this unjust and heartless\nregulation can hold him up to public scorn.\n\nThere has been in the past no excuse, no circumstance, that could\npalliate the offense.\n\n\"He was in command, and he took his ship across thirty!\" That was\nsufficient. It might not have been in any way his fault, as, in the\ncase of the Coldwater, it could not possibly have been justly charged\nto my account that the gravitation-screen generators were worthless;\nbut well I knew that should chance have it that we were blown across\nthirty today--as we might easily be before the terrific west wind that\nwe could hear howling below us, the responsibility would fall upon my\nshoulders.\n\nIn a way, the regulation was a good one, for it certainly accomplished\nthat for which it was intended. We all fought shy of 30d on the east\nand 175d on the west, and, though we had to skirt them pretty close,\nnothing but an act of God ever drew one of us across. You all are\nfamiliar with the naval tradition that a good officer could sense\nproximity to either line, and for my part, I am firmly convinced of the\ntruth of this as I am that the compass finds the north without recourse\nto tedious processes of reasoning.\n\nOld Admiral Sanchez was wont to maintain that he could smell thirty,\nand the men of the first ship in which I sailed claimed that Coburn,\nthe navigating officer, knew by name every wave along thirty from 60dN.\nto 60dS. However, I'd hate to vouch for this.\n\nWell, to get back to my narrative; we kept on dropping slowly toward\nthe surface the while we bucked the west wind, clawing away from thirty\nas fast as we could. I was on the bridge, and as we dropped from the\nbrilliant sunlight into the dense vapor of clouds and on down through\nthem to the wild, dark storm strata beneath, it seemed that my spirits\ndropped with the falling ship, and the buoyancy of hope ran low in\nsympathy.\n\nThe waves were running to tremendous heights, and the Coldwater was not\ndesigned to meet such waves head on. Her elements were the blue ether,\nfar above the raging storm, or the greater depths of ocean, which no\nstorm could ruffle.\n\nAs I stood speculating upon our chances once we settled into the\nfrightful Maelstrom beneath us and at the same time mentally computing\nthe hours which must elapse before aid could reach us, the wireless\noperator clambered up the ladder to the bridge, and, disheveled and\nbreathless, stood before me at salute. It needed but a glance at him\nto assure me that something was amiss.\n\n\"What now?\" I asked.\n\n\"The wireless, sir!\" he cried. \"My God, sir, I cannot send.\"\n\n\"But the emergency outfit?\" I asked.\n\n\"I have tried everything, sir. I have exhausted every resource. We\ncannot send,\" and he drew himself up and saluted again.\n\nI dismissed him with a few kind words, for I knew that it was through\nno fault of his that the mechanism was antiquated and worthless, in\ncommon with the balance of the Coldwater's equipment. There was no\nfiner operator in Pan-America than he.\n\nThe failure of the wireless did not appear as momentous to me as to\nhim, which is not unnatural, since it is but human to feel that when\nour own little cog slips, the entire universe must necessarily be put\nout of gear. I knew that if this storm were destined to blow us across\nthirty, or send us to the bottom of the ocean, no help could reach us\nin time to prevent it. I had ordered the message sent solely because\nregulations required it, and not with any particular hope that we could\nbenefit by it in our present extremity.\n\nI had little time to dwell upon the coincidence of the simultaneous\nfailure of the wireless and the buoyancy generators, since very shortly\nafter the Coldwater had dropped so low over the waters that all my\nattention was necessarily centered upon the delicate business of\nsettling upon the waves without breaking my ship's back. With our\nbuoyancy generators in commission it would have been a simple thing to\nenter the water, since then it would have been but a trifling matter of\na forty-five degree dive into the base of a huge wave. We should have\ncut into the water like a hot knife through butter, and have been\ntotally submerged with scarce a jar--I have done it a thousand\ntimes--but I did not dare submerge the Coldwater for fear that it would\nremain submerged to the end of time--a condition far from conducive to\nthe longevity of commander or crew.\n\nMost of my officers were older men than I. John Alvarez, my first\nofficer, is twenty years my senior. He stood at my side on the bridge\nas the ship glided closer and closer to those stupendous waves. He\nwatched my every move, but he was by far too fine an officer and\ngentleman to embarrass me by either comment or suggestion.\n\nWhen I saw that we soon would touch, I ordered the ship brought around\nbroadside to the wind, and there we hovered a moment until a huge wave\nreached up and seized us upon its crest, and then I gave the order that\nsuddenly reversed the screening force, and let us into the ocean. Down\ninto the trough we went, wallowing like the carcass of a dead whale,\nand then began the fight, with rudder and propellers, to force the\nColdwater back into the teeth of the gale and drive her on and on,\nfarther and farther from relentless thirty.\n\nI think that we should have succeeded, even though the ship was wracked\nfrom stem to stern by the terrific buffetings she received, and though\nshe were half submerged the greater part of the time, had no further\naccident befallen us.\n\nWe were making headway, though slowly, and it began to look as though\nwe were going to pull through. Alvarez never left my side, though I\nall but ordered him below for much-needed rest. My second officer,\nPorfirio Johnson, was also often on the bridge. He was a good officer,\nbut a man for whom I had conceived a rather unreasoning aversion almost\nat the first moment of meeting him, an aversion which was not lessened\nby the knowledge which I subsequently gained that he looked upon my\nrapid promotion with jealousy. He was ten years my senior both in\nyears and service, and I rather think he could never forget the fact\nthat he had been an officer when I was a green apprentice.\n\nAs it became more and more apparent that the Coldwater, under my\nseamanship, was weathering the tempest and giving promise of pulling\nthrough safely, I could have sworn that I perceived a shade of\nannoyance and disappointment growing upon his dark countenance. He\nleft the bridge finally and went below. I do not know that he is\ndirectly responsible for what followed so shortly after; but I have\nalways had my suspicions, and Alvarez is even more prone to place the\nblame upon him than I.\n\nIt was about six bells of the forenoon watch that Johnson returned to\nthe bridge after an absence of some thirty minutes. He seemed nervous\nand ill at ease--a fact which made little impression on me at the time,\nbut which both Alvarez and I recalled subsequently.\n\nNot three minutes after his reappearance at my side the Coldwater\nsuddenly commenced to lose headway. I seized the telephone at my\nelbow, pressing upon the button which would call the chief engineer to\nthe instrument in the bowels of the ship, only to find him already at\nthe receiver attempting to reach me.\n\n\"Numbers one, two, and five engines have broken down, sir,\" he called.\n\"Shall we force the remaining three?\"\n\n\"We can do nothing else,\" I bellowed into the transmitter.\n\n\"They won't stand the gaff, sir,\" he returned.\n\n\"Can you suggest a better plan?\" I asked.\n\n\"No, sir,\" he replied.\n\n\"Then give them the gaff, lieutenant,\" I shouted back, and hung up the\nreceiver.\n\nFor twenty minutes the Coldwater bucked the great seas with her three\nengines. I doubt if she advanced a foot; but it was enough to keep her\nnose in the wind, and, at least, we were not drifting toward thirty.\n\nJohnson and Alvarez were at my side when, without warning, the bow\nswung swiftly around and the ship fell into the trough of the sea.\n\n\"The other three have gone,\" I said, and I happened to be looking at\nJohnson as I spoke. Was it the shadow of a satisfied smile that\ncrossed his thin lips? I do not know; but at least he did not weep.\n\n\"You always have been curious, sir, about the great unknown beyond\nthirty,\" he said. \"You are in a good way to have your curiosity\nsatisfied.\" And then I could not mistake the slight sneer that curved\nhis upper lip. There must have been a trace of disrespect in his tone\nor manner which escaped me, for Alvarez turned upon him like a flash.\n\n\"When Lieutenant Turck crosses thirty,\" he said, \"we shall all cross\nwith him, and God help the officer or the man who reproaches him!\"\n\n\"I shall not be a party to high treason,\" snapped Johnson. \"The\nregulations are explicit, and if the Coldwater crosses thirty it\ndevolves upon you to place Lieutenant Turck under arrest and\nimmediately exert every endeavor to bring the ship back into\nPan-American waters.\"\n\n\"I shall not know,\" replied Alvarez, \"that the Coldwater passes thirty;\nnor shall any other man aboard know it,\" and, with his words, he drew a\nrevolver from his pocket, and before either I or Johnson could prevent\nit had put a bullet into every instrument upon the bridge, ruining them\nbeyond repair.\n\nAnd then he saluted me, and strode from the bridge, a martyr to loyalty\nand friendship, for, though no man might know that Lieutenant Jefferson\nTurck had taken his ship across thirty, every man aboard would know\nthat the first officer had committed a crime that was punishable by\nboth degradation and death. Johnson turned and eyed me narrowly.\n\n\"Shall I place him under arrest?\" he asked.\n\n\"You shall not,\" I replied. \"Nor shall anyone else.\"\n\n\"You become a party to his crime!\" he cried angrily.\n\n\"You may go below, Mr. Johnson,\" I said, \"and attend to the work of\nunpacking the extra instruments and having them properly set upon the\nbridge.\"\n\nHe saluted, and left me, and for some time I stood, gazing out upon the\nangry waters, my mind filled with unhappy reflections upon the unjust\nfate that had overtaken me, and the sorrow and disgrace that I had\nunwittingly brought down upon my house.\n\nI rejoiced that I should leave neither wife nor child to bear the\nburden of my shame throughout their lives.\n\nAs I thought upon my misfortune, I considered more clearly than ever\nbefore the unrighteousness of the regulation which was to prove my\ndoom, and in the natural revolt against its injustice my anger rose,\nand there mounted within me a feeling which I imagine must have\nparalleled that spirit that once was prevalent among the ancients\ncalled anarchy.\n\nFor the first time in my life I found my sentiments arraying themselves\nagainst custom, tradition, and even government. The wave of rebellion\nswept over me in an instant, beginning with an heretical doubt as to\nthe sanctity of the established order of things--that fetish which has\nruled Pan-Americans for two centuries, and which is based upon a blind\nfaith in the infallibility of the prescience of the long-dead framers\nof the articles of Pan-American federation--and ending in an adamantine\ndetermination to defend my honor and my life to the last ditch against\nthe blind and senseless regulation which assumed the synonymity of\nmisfortune and treason.\n\nI would replace the destroyed instruments upon the bridge; every\nofficer and man should know when we crossed thirty. But then I should\nassert the spirit which dominated me, I should resist arrest, and\ninsist upon bringing my ship back across the dead line, remaining at my\npost until we had reached New York. Then I should make a full report,\nand with it a demand upon public opinion that the dead lines be wiped\nforever from the seas.\n\nI knew that I was right. I knew that no more loyal officer wore the\nuniform of the navy. I knew that I was a good officer and sailor, and\nI didn't propose submitting to degradation and discharge because a lot\nof old, preglacial fossils had declared over two hundred years before\nthat no man should cross thirty.\n\nEven while these thoughts were passing through my mind I was busy with\nthe details of my duties. I had seen to it that a sea anchor was\nrigged, and even now the men had completed their task, and the\nColdwater was swinging around rapidly, her nose pointing once more into\nthe wind, and the frightful rolling consequent upon her wallowing in\nthe trough was happily diminishing.\n\nIt was then that Johnson came hurrying to the bridge. One of his eyes\nwas swollen and already darkening, and his lip was cut and bleeding.\nWithout even the formality of a salute, he burst upon me, white with\nfury.\n\n\"Lieutenant Alvarez attacked me!\" he cried. \"I demand that he be\nplaced under arrest. I found him in the act of destroying the reserve\ninstruments, and when I would have interfered to protect them he fell\nupon me and beat me. I demand that you arrest him!\"\n\n\"You forget yourself, Mr. Johnson,\" I said. \"You are not in command of\nthe ship. I deplore the action of Lieutenant Alvarez, but I cannot\nexpunge from my mind the loyalty and self-sacrificing friendship which\nhas prompted him to his acts. Were I you, sir, I should profit by the\nexample he has set. Further, Mr. Johnson, I intend retaining command\nof the ship, even though she crosses thirty, and I shall demand\nimplicit obedience from every officer and man aboard until I am\nproperly relieved from duty by a superior officer in the port of New\nYork.\"\n\n\"You mean to say that you will cross thirty without submitting to\narrest?\" he almost shouted.\n\n\"I do, sir,\" I replied. \"And now you may go below, and, when again you\nfind it necessary to address me, you will please be so good as to bear\nin mind the fact that I am your commanding officer, and as such\nentitled to a salute.\"\n\nHe flushed, hesitated a moment, and then, saluting, turned upon his\nheel and left the bridge. Shortly after, Alvarez appeared. He was\npale, and seemed to have aged ten years in the few brief minutes since\nI last had seen him. Saluting, he told me very simply what he had\ndone, and asked that I place him under arrest.\n\nI put my hand on his shoulder, and I guess that my voice trembled a\ntrifle as, while reproving him for his act, I made it plain to him that\nmy gratitude was no less potent a force than his loyalty to me. Then\nit was that I outlined to him my purpose to defy the regulation that\nhad raised the dead lines, and to take my ship back to New York myself.\n\nI did not ask him to share the responsibility with me. I merely stated\nthat I should refuse to submit to arrest, and that I should demand of\nhim and every other officer and man implicit obedience to my every\ncommand until we docked at home.\n\nHis face brightened at my words, and he assured me that I would find\nhim as ready to acknowledge my command upon the wrong side of thirty as\nupon the right, an assurance which I hastened to tell him I did not\nneed.\n\nThe storm continued to rage for three days, and as far as the wind\nscarce varied a point during all that time, I knew that we must be far\nbeyond thirty, drifting rapidly east by south. All this time it had\nbeen impossible to work upon the damaged engines or the gravity-screen\ngenerators; but we had a full set of instruments upon the bridge, for\nAlvarez, after discovering my intentions, had fetched the reserve\ninstruments from his own cabin, where he had hidden them. Those which\nJohnson had seen him destroy had been a third set which only Alvarez\nhad known was aboard the Coldwater.\n\nWe waited impatiently for the sun, that we might determine our exact\nlocation, and upon the fourth day our vigil was rewarded a few minutes\nbefore noon.\n\nEvery officer and man aboard was tense with nervous excitement as we\nawaited the result of the reading. The crew had known almost as soon\nas I that we were doomed to cross thirty, and I am inclined to believe\nthat every man jack of them was tickled to death, for the spirits of\nadventure and romance still live in the hearts of men of the\ntwenty-second century, even though there be little for them to feed\nupon between thirty and one hundred seventy-five.\n\nThe men carried none of the burdens of responsibility. They might\ncross thirty with impunity, and doubtless they would return to be\nheroes at home; but how different the home-coming of their commanding\nofficer!\n\nThe wind had dropped to a steady blow, still from west by north, and\nthe sea had gone down correspondingly. The crew, with the exception of\nthose whose duties kept them below, were ranged on deck below the\nbridge. When our position was definitely fixed I personally announced\nit to the eager, waiting men.\n\n\"Men,\" I said, stepping forward to the handrail and looking down into\ntheir upturned, bronzed faces, \"you are anxiously awaiting information\nas to the ship's position. It has been determined at latitude fifty\ndegrees seven minutes north, longitude twenty degrees sixteen minutes\nwest.\"\n\nI paused and a buzz of animated comment ran through the massed men\nbeneath me. \"Beyond thirty. But there will be no change in commanding\nofficers, in routine or in discipline, until after we have docked again\nin New York.\"\n\nAs I ceased speaking and stepped back from the rail there was a roar of\napplause from the deck such as I never before had heard aboard a ship\nof peace. It recalled to my mind tales that I had read of the good old\ndays when naval vessels were built to fight, when ships of peace had\nbeen man-of-war, and guns had flashed in other than futile target\npractice, and decks had run red with blood.\n\nWith the subsistence of the sea, we were able to go to work upon the\ndamaged engines to some effect, and I also set men to examining the\ngravitation-screen generators with a view to putting them in working\norder should it prove not beyond our resources.\n\nFor two weeks we labored at the engines, which indisputably showed\nevidence of having been tampered with. I appointed a board to\ninvestigate and report upon the disaster. But it accomplished nothing\nother than to convince me that there were several officers upon it who\nwere in full sympathy with Johnson, for, though no charges had been\npreferred against him, the board went out of its way specifically to\nexonerate him in its findings.\n\nAll this time we were drifting almost due east. The work upon the\nengines had progressed to such an extent that within a few hours we\nmight expect to be able to proceed under our own power westward in the\ndirection of Pan-American waters.\n\nTo relieve the monotony I had taken to fishing, and early that morning\nI had departed from the Coldwater in one of the boats on such an\nexcursion. A gentle west wind was blowing. The sea shimmered in the\nsunlight. A cloudless sky canopied the west for our sport, as I had\nmade it a point never voluntarily to make an inch toward the east that\nI could avoid. At least, they should not be able to charge me with a\nwillful violation of the dead lines regulation.\n\nI had with me only the boat's ordinary complement of men--three in all,\nand more than enough to handle any small power boat. I had not asked\nany of my officers to accompany me, as I wished to be alone, and very\nglad am I now that I had not. My only regret is that, in view of what\nbefell us, it had been necessary to bring the three brave fellows who\nmanned the boat.\n\nOur fishing, which proved excellent, carried us so far to the west that\nwe no longer could see the Coldwater. The day wore on, until at last,\nabout mid-afternoon, I gave the order to return to the ship.\n\nWe had proceeded but a short distance toward the east when one of the\nmen gave an exclamation of excitement, at the same time pointing\neastward. We all looked on in the direction he had indicated, and\nthere, a short distance above the horizon, we saw the outlines of the\nColdwater silhouetted against the sky.\n\n\"They've repaired the engines and the generators both,\" exclaimed one\nof the men.\n\nIt seemed impossible, but yet it had evidently been done. Only that\nmorning, Lieutenant Johnson had told me that he feared that it would be\nimpossible to repair the generators. I had put him in charge of this\nwork, since he always had been accounted one of the best\ngravitation-screen men in the navy. He had invented several of the\nimprovements that are incorporated in the later models of these\ngenerators, and I am convinced that he knows more concerning both the\ntheory and the practice of screening gravitation than any living\nPan-American.\n\nAt the sight of the Coldwater once more under control, the three men\nburst into a glad cheer. But, for some reason which I could not then\naccount, I was strangely overcome by a premonition of personal\nmisfortune. It was not that I now anticipated an early return to\nPan-America and a board of inquiry, for I had rather looked forward to\nthe fight that must follow my return. No, there was something else,\nsomething indefinable and vague that cast a strange gloom upon me as I\nsaw my ship rising farther above the water and making straight in our\ndirection.\n\nI was not long in ascertaining a possible explanation of my depression,\nfor, though we were plainly visible from the bridge of the\naero-submarine and to the hundreds of men who swarmed her deck, the\nship passed directly above us, not five hundred feet from the water,\nand sped directly westward.\n\nWe all shouted, and I fired my pistol to attract their attention,\nthough I knew full well that all who cared to had observed us, but the\nship moved steadily away, growing smaller and smaller to our view until\nat last she passed completely out of sight.\n\n\n\n2\n\n\nWhat could it mean? I had left Alvarez in command. He was my most\nloyal subordinate. It was absolutely beyond the pale of possibility\nthat Alvarez should desert me. No, there was some other explanation.\nSomething occurred to place my second officer, Porfirio Johnson, in\ncommand. I was sure of it but why speculate? The futility of\nconjecture was only too palpable. The Coldwater had abandoned us in\nmidocean. Doubtless none of us would survive to know why.\n\nThe young man at the wheel of the power boat had turned her nose about\nas it became evident that the ship intended passing over us, and now he\nstill held her in futile pursuit of the Coldwater.\n\n\"Bring her about, Snider,\" I directed, \"and hold her due east. We\ncan't catch the Coldwater, and we can't cross the Atlantic in this.\nOur only hope lies in making the nearest land, which, unless I am\nmistaken, is the Scilly Islands, off the southwest coast of England.\nEver heard of England, Snider?\"\n\n\"There's a part of the United States of North America that used to be\nknown to the ancients as New England,\" he replied. \"Is that where you\nmean, sir?\"\n\n\"No, Snider,\" I replied. \"The England I refer to was an island off the\ncontinent of Europe. It was the seat of a very powerful kingdom that\nflourished over two hundred years ago. A part of the United States of\nNorth America and all of the Federated States of Canada once belonged\nto this ancient England.\"\n\n\"Europe,\" breathed one of the men, his voice tense with excitement.\n\"My grandfather used to tell me stories of the world beyond thirty. He\nhad been a great student, and he had read much from forbidden books.\"\n\n\"In which I resemble your grandfather,\" I said, \"for I, too, have read\nmore even than naval officers are supposed to read, and, as you men\nknow, we are permitted a greater latitude in the study of geography and\nhistory than men of other professions.\n\n\"Among the books and papers of Admiral Porter Turck, who lived two\nhundred years ago, and from whom I am descended, many volumes still\nexist, and are in my possession, which deal with the history and\ngeography of ancient Europe. Usually I bring several of these books\nwith me upon a cruise, and this time, among others, I have maps of\nEurope and her surrounding waters. I was studying them as we came away\nfrom the Coldwater this morning, and luckily I have them with me.\"\n\n\"You are going to try to make Europe, sir?\" asked Taylor, the young man\nwho had last spoken.\n\n\"It is the nearest land,\" I replied. \"I have always wanted to explore\nthe forgotten lands of the Eastern Hemisphere. Here's our chance. To\nremain at sea is to perish. None of us ever will see home again. Let\nus make the best of it, and enjoy while we do live that which is\nforbidden the balance of our race--the adventure and the mystery which\nlie beyond thirty.\"\n\nTaylor and Delcarte seized the spirit of my mood but Snider, I think,\nwas a trifle sceptical.\n\n\"It is treason, sir,\" I replied, \"but there is no law which compels us\nto visit punishment upon ourselves. Could we return to Pan-America, I\nshould be the first to insist that we face it. But we know that's not\npossible. Even if this craft would carry us so far, we haven't enough\nwater or food for more than three days.\n\n\"We are doomed, Snider, to die far from home and without ever again\nlooking upon the face of another fellow countryman than those who sit\nhere now in this boat. Isn't that punishment sufficient for even the\nmost exacting judge?\"\n\nEven Snider had to admit that it was.\n\n\"Very well, then, let us live while we live, and enjoy to the fullest\nwhatever of adventure or pleasure each new day brings, since any day\nmay be our last, and we shall be dead for a considerable while.\"\n\nI could see that Snider was still fearful, but Taylor and Delcarte\nresponded with a hearty, \"Aye, aye, sir!\"\n\nThey were of different mold. Both were sons of naval officers. They\nrepresented the aristocracy of birth, and they dared to think for\nthemselves.\n\nSnider was in the minority, and so we continued toward the east.\nBeyond thirty, and separated from my ship, my authority ceased. I held\nleadership, if I was to hold it at all, by virtue of personal\nqualifications only, but I did not doubt my ability to remain the\ndirector of our destinies in so far as they were amenable to human\nagencies. I have always led. While my brain and brawn remain\nunimpaired I shall continue always to lead. Following is an art which\nTurcks do not easily learn.\n\nIt was not until the third day that we raised land, dead ahead, which I\ntook, from my map, to be the isles of Scilly. But such a gale was\nblowing that I did not dare attempt to land, and so we passed to the\nnorth of them, skirted Land's End, and entered the English Channel.\n\nI think that up to that moment I had never experienced such a thrill as\npassed through me when I realized that I was navigating these historic\nwaters. The lifelong dreams that I never had dared hope to see\nfulfilled were at last a reality--but under what forlorn circumstances!\n\nNever could I return to my native land. To the end of my days I must\nremain in exile. Yet even these thoughts failed to dampen my ardor.\n\nMy eyes scanned the waters. To the north I could see the rockbound\ncoast of Cornwall. Mine were the first American eyes to rest upon it\nfor more than two hundred years. In vain, I searched for some sign of\nancient commerce that, if history is to be believed, must have dotted\nthe bosom of the Channel with white sails and blackened the heavens\nwith the smoke of countless funnels, but as far as eye could reach the\ntossing waters of the Channel were empty and deserted.\n\nToward midnight the wind and sea abated, so that shortly after dawn I\ndetermined to make inshore in an attempt to effect a landing, for we\nwere sadly in need of fresh water and food.\n\nAccording to my observations, we were just off Ram Head, and it was my\nintention to enter Plymouth Bay and visit Plymouth. From my map it\nappeared that this city lay back from the coast a short distance, and\nthere was another city given as Devonport, which appeared to lie at the\nmouth of the river Tamar.\n\nHowever, I knew that it would make little difference which city we\nentered, as the English people were famed of old for their hospitality\ntoward visiting mariners. As we approached the mouth of the bay I\nlooked for the fishing craft which I expected to see emerging thus\nearly in the day for their labors. But even after we rounded Ram Head\nand were well within the waters of the bay I saw no vessel. Neither\nwas there buoy nor light nor any other mark to show larger ships the\nchannel, and I wondered much at this.\n\nThe coast was densely overgrown, nor was any building or sign of man\napparent from the water. Up the bay and into the River Tamar we\nmotored through a solitude as unbroken as that which rested upon the\nwaters of the Channel. For all we could see, there was no indication\nthat man had ever set his foot upon this silent coast.\n\nI was nonplused, and then, for the first time, there crept over me an\nintuition of the truth.\n\nHere was no sign of war. As far as this portion of the Devon coast was\nconcerned, that seemed to have been over for many years, but neither\nwere there any people. Yet I could not find it within myself to\nbelieve that I should find no inhabitants in England. Reasoning thus,\nI discovered that it was improbable that a state of war still existed,\nand that the people all had been drawn from this portion of England to\nsome other, where they might better defend themselves against an\ninvader.\n\nBut what of their ancient coast defenses? What was there here in\nPlymouth Bay to prevent an enemy landing in force and marching where\nthey wished? Nothing. I could not believe that any enlightened\nmilitary nation, such as the ancient English are reputed to have been,\nwould have voluntarily so deserted an exposed coast and an excellent\nharbor to the mercies of an enemy.\n\nI found myself becoming more and more deeply involved in quandary. The\npuzzle which confronted me I could not unravel. We had landed, and I\nnow stood upon the spot where, according to my map, a large city should\nrear its spires and chimneys. There was nothing but rough, broken\nground covered densely with weeds and brambles, and tall, rank, grass.\n\nHad a city ever stood there, no sign of it remained. The roughness and\nunevenness of the ground suggested something of a great mass of debris\nhidden by the accumulation of centuries of undergrowth.\n\nI drew the short cutlass with which both officers and men of the navy\nare, as you know, armed out of courtesy to the traditions and memories\nof the past, and with its point dug into the loam about the roots of\nthe vegetation growing at my feet.\n\nThe blade entered the soil for a matter of seven inches, when it struck\nupon something stonelike. Digging about the obstacle, I presently\nloosened it, and when I had withdrawn it from its sepulcher I found the\nthing to be an ancient brick of clay, baked in an oven.\n\nDelcarte we had left in charge of the boat; but Snider and Taylor were\nwith me, and following my example, each engaged in the fascinating\nsport of prospecting for antiques. Each of us uncovered a great number\nof these bricks, until we commenced to weary of the monotony of it,\nwhen Snider suddenly gave an exclamation of excitement, and, as I\nturned to look, he held up a human skull for my inspection.\n\nI took it from him and examined it. Directly in the center of the\nforehead was a small round hole. The gentleman had evidently come to\nhis end defending his country from an invader.\n\nSnider again held aloft another trophy of the search--a metal spike and\nsome tarnished and corroded metal ornaments. They had lain close\nbeside the skull.\n\nWith the point of his cutlass Snider scraped the dirt and verdigris\nfrom the face of the larger ornament.\n\n\"An inscription,\" he said, and handed the thing to me.\n\nThey were the spike and ornaments of an ancient German helmet. Before\nlong we had uncovered many other indications that a great battle had\nbeen fought upon the ground where we stood. But I was then, and still\nam, at loss to account for the presence of German soldiers upon the\nEnglish coast so far from London, which history suggests would have\nbeen the natural goal of an invader.\n\nI can only account for it by assuming that either England was\ntemporarily conquered by the Teutons, or that an invasion of so vast\nproportions was undertaken that German troops were hurled upon the\nEngland coast in huge numbers and that landings were necessarily\neffected at many places simultaneously. Subsequent discoveries tend to\nstrengthen this view.\n\nWe dug about for a short time with our cutlasses until I became\nconvinced that a city had stood upon the spot at some time in the past,\nand that beneath our feet, crumbled and dead, lay ancient Devonport.\n\nI could not repress a sigh at the thought of the havoc war had wrought\nin this part of England, at least. Farther east, nearer London, we\nshould find things very different. There would be the civilization\nthat two centuries must have wrought upon our English cousins as they\nhad upon us. There would be mighty cities, cultivated fields, happy\npeople. There we would be welcomed as long-lost brothers. There would\nwe find a great nation anxious to learn of the world beyond their side\nof thirty, as I had been anxious to learn of that which lay beyond our\nside of the dead line.\n\nI turned back toward the boat.\n\n\"Come, men!\" I said. \"We will go up the river and fill our casks with\nfresh water, search for food and fuel, and then tomorrow be in\nreadiness to push on toward the east. I am going to London.\"\n\n\n\n3\n\n\nThe report of a gun blasted the silence of a dead Devonport with\nstartling abruptness.\n\nIt came from the direction of the launch, and in an instant we three\nwere running for the boat as fast as our legs would carry us. As we\ncame in sight of it we saw Delcarte a hundred yards inland from the\nlaunch, leaning over something which lay upon the ground. As we called\nto him he waved his cap, and stooping, lifted a small deer for our\ninspection.\n\nI was about to congratulate him on his trophy when we were startled by\na horrid, half-human, half-bestial scream a little ahead and to the\nright of us. It seemed to come from a clump of rank and tangled bush\nnot far from where Delcarte stood. It was a horrid, fearsome sound,\nthe like of which never had fallen upon my ears before.\n\nWe looked in the direction from which it came. The smile had died from\nDelcarte's lips. Even at the distance we were from him I saw his face\ngo suddenly white, and he quickly threw his rifle to his shoulder. At\nthe same moment the thing that had given tongue to the cry moved from\nthe concealing brushwood far enough for us, too, to see it.\n\nBoth Taylor and Snider gave little gasps of astonishment and dismay.\n\n\"What is it, sir?\" asked the latter.\n\nThe creature stood about the height of a tall man's waist, and was long\nand gaunt and sinuous, with a tawny coat striped with black, and with\nwhite throat and belly. In conformation it was similar to a cat--a\nhuge cat, exaggerated colossal cat, with fiendish eyes and the most\ndevilish cast of countenance, as it wrinkled its bristling snout and\nbared its great yellow fangs.\n\nIt was pacing, or rather, slinking, straight for Delcarte, who had now\nleveled his rifle upon it.\n\n\"What is it, sir?\" mumbled Snider again, and then a half-forgotten\npicture from an old natural history sprang to my mind, and I recognized\nin the frightful beast the Felis tigris of ancient Asia, specimens of\nwhich had, in former centuries, been exhibited in the Western\nHemisphere.\n\nSnider and Taylor were armed with rifles and revolvers, while I carried\nonly a revolver. Seizing Snider's rifle from his trembling hands, I\ncalled to Taylor to follow me, and together we ran forward, shouting,\nto attract the beast's attention from Delcarte until we should all be\nquite close enough to attack with the greatest assurance of success.\n\nI cried to Delcarte not to fire until we reached his side, for I was\nfearful lest our small caliber, steel-jacketed bullets should, far from\nkilling the beast, tend merely to enrage it still further. But he\nmisunderstood me, thinking that I had ordered him to fire.\n\nWith the report of his rifle the tiger stopped short in apparent\nsurprise, then turned and bit savagely at its shoulder for an instant,\nafter which it wheeled again toward Delcarte, issuing the most terrific\nroars and screams, and launched itself, with incredible speed, toward\nthe brave fellow, who now stood his ground pumping bullets from his\nautomatic rifle as rapidly as the weapon would fire.\n\nTaylor and I also opened up on the creature, and as it was broadside to\nus it offered a splendid target, though for all the impression we\nappeared to make upon the great cat we might as well have been\nlaunching soap bubbles at it.\n\nStraight as a torpedo it rushed for Delcarte, and, as Taylor and I\nstumbled on through the tall grass toward our unfortunate comrade, we\nsaw the tiger rear upon him and crush him to the earth.\n\nNot a backward step had the noble Delcarte taken. Two hundred years of\npeace had not sapped the red blood from his courageous line. He went\ndown beneath that avalanche of bestial savagery still working his gun\nand with his face toward his antagonist. Even in the instant that I\nthought him dead I could not help but feel a thrill of pride that he\nwas one of my men, one of my class, a Pan-American gentleman of birth.\nAnd that he had demonstrated one of the principal contentions of the\narmy-and-navy adherents--that military training was necessary for the\nsalvation of personal courage in the Pan-American race which for\ngenerations had had to face no dangers more grave than those incident\nto ordinary life in a highly civilized community, safeguarded by every\nmeans at the disposal of a perfectly organized and all-powerful\ngovernment utilizing the best that advanced science could suggest.\n\nAs we ran toward Delcarte, both Taylor and I were struck by the fact\nthat the beast upon him appeared not to be mauling him, but lay quiet\nand motionless upon its prey, and when we were quite close, and the\nmuzzles of our guns were at the animal's head, I saw the explanation of\nthis sudden cessation of hostilities--Felis tigris was dead.\n\nOne of our bullets, or one of the last that Delcarte fired, had\npenetrated the heart, and the beast had died even as it sprawled\nforward crushing Delcarte to the ground.\n\nA moment later, with our assistance, the man had scrambled from beneath\nthe carcass of his would-be slayer, without a scratch to indicate how\nclose to death he had been.\n\nDelcarte's buoyance was entirely unruffled. He came from under the\ntiger with a broad grin on his handsome face, nor could I perceive that\na muscle trembled or that his voice showed the least indication of\nnervousness or excitement.\n\nWith the termination of the adventure, we began to speculate upon the\nexplanation of the presence of this savage brute at large so great a\ndistance from its native habitat. My readings had taught me that it\nwas practically unknown outside of Asia, and that, so late as the\ntwentieth century, at least, there had been no savage beasts outside\ncaptivity in England.\n\nAs we talked, Snider joined us, and I returned his rifle to him.\nTaylor and Delcarte picked up the slain deer, and we all started down\ntoward the launch, walking slowly. Delcarte wanted to fetch the\ntiger's skin, but I had to deny him permission, since we had no means\nto properly cure it.\n\nUpon the beach, we skinned the deer and cut away as much meat as we\nthought we could dispose of, and as we were again embarking to continue\nup the river for fresh water and fuel, we were startled by a series of\nscreams from the bushes a short distance away.\n\n\"Another Felis tigris,\" said Taylor.\n\n\"Or a dozen of them,\" supplemented Delcarte, and, even as he spoke,\nthere leaped into sight, one after another, eight of the beasts, full\ngrown--magnificent specimens.\n\nAt the sight of us, they came charging down like infuriated demons. I\nsaw that three rifles would be no match for them, and so I gave the\nword to put out from shore, hoping that the \"tiger,\" as the ancients\ncalled him, could not swim.\n\nSure enough, they all halted at the beach, pacing back and forth,\nuttering fiendish cries, and glaring at us in the most malevolent\nmanner.\n\nAs we motored away, we presently heard the calls of similar animals far\ninland. They seemed to be answering the cries of their fellows at the\nwater's edge, and from the wide distribution and great volume of the\nsound we came to the conclusion that enormous numbers of these beasts\nmust roam the adjacent country.\n\n\"They have eaten up the inhabitants,\" murmured Snider, shuddering.\n\n\"I imagine you are right,\" I agreed, \"for their extreme boldness and\nfearlessness in the presence of man would suggest either that man is\nentirely unknown to them, or that they are extremely familiar with him\nas their natural and most easily procured prey.\"\n\n\"But where did they come from?\" asked Delcarte. \"Could they have\ntraveled here from Asia?\"\n\nI shook my head. The thing was a puzzle to me. I knew that it was\npractically beyond reason to imagine that tigers had crossed the\nmountain ranges and rivers and all the great continent of Europe to\ntravel this far from their native lairs, and entirely impossible that\nthey should have crossed the English Channel at all. Yet here they\nwere, and in great numbers.\n\nWe continued up the Tamar several miles, filled our casks, and then\nlanded to cook some of our deer steak, and have the first square meal\nthat had fallen to our lot since the Coldwater deserted us. But scarce\nhad we built our fire and prepared the meat for cooking than Snider,\nwhose eyes had been constantly roving about the landscape from the\nmoment that we left the launch, touched me on the arm and pointed to a\nclump of bushes which grew a couple of hundred yards away.\n\nHalf concealed behind their screening foliage I saw the yellow and\nblack of a big tiger, and, as I looked, the beast stalked majestically\ntoward us. A moment later, he was followed by another and another, and\nit is needless to state that we beat a hasty retreat to the launch.\n\nThe country was apparently infested by these huge Carnivora, for after\nthree other attempts to land and cook our food we were forced to\nabandon the idea entirely, as each time we were driven off by hunting\ntigers.\n\nIt was also equally impossible to obtain the necessary ingredients for\nour chemical fuel, and, as we had very little left aboard, we\ndetermined to step our folding mast and proceed under sail, hoarding\nour fuel supply for use in emergencies.\n\nI may say that it was with no regret that we bid adieu to Tigerland, as\nwe rechristened the ancient Devon, and, beating out into the Channel,\nturned the launch's nose southeast, to round Bolt Head and continue up\nthe coast toward the Strait of Dover and the North Sea.\n\nI was determined to reach London as soon as possible, that we might\nobtain fresh clothing, meet with cultured people, and learn from the\nlips of Englishmen the secrets of the two centuries since the East had\nbeen divorced from the West.\n\nOur first stopping place was the Isle of Wight. We entered the Solent\nabout ten o'clock one morning, and I must confess that my heart sank as\nwe came close to shore. No lighthouse was visible, though one was\nplainly indicated upon my map. Upon neither shore was sign of human\nhabitation. We skirted the northern shore of the island in fruitless\nsearch for man, and then at last landed upon an eastern point, where\nNewport should have stood, but where only weeds and great trees and\ntangled wild wood rioted, and not a single manmade thing was visible to\nthe eye.\n\nBefore landing, I had the men substitute soft bullets for the\nsteel-jacketed projectiles with which their belts and magazines were\nfilled. Thus equipped, we felt upon more even terms with the tigers,\nbut there was no sign of the tigers, and I decided that they must be\nconfined to the mainland.\n\nAfter eating, we set out in search of fuel, leaving Taylor to guard the\nlaunch. For some reason I could not trust Snider alone. I knew that\nhe looked with disapproval upon my plan to visit England, and I did not\nknow but what at his first opportunity, he might desert us, taking the\nlaunch with him, and attempt to return to Pan-America.\n\nThat he would be fool enough to venture it, I did not doubt.\n\nWe had gone inland for a mile or more, and were passing through a\npark-like wood, when we came suddenly upon the first human beings we\nhad seen since we sighted the English coast.\n\nThere were a score of men in the party. Hairy, half-naked men they\nwere, resting in the shade of a great tree. At the first sight of us\nthey sprang to their feet with wild yells, seizing long spears that had\nlain beside them as they rested.\n\nFor a matter of fifty yards they ran from us as rapidly as they could,\nand then they turned and surveyed us for a moment. Evidently\nemboldened by the scarcity of our numbers, they commenced to advance\nupon us, brandishing their spears and shouting horribly.\n\nThey were short and muscular of build, with long hair and beards\ntangled and matted with filth. Their heads, however, were shapely, and\ntheir eyes, though fierce and warlike, were intelligent.\n\nAppreciation of these physical attributes came later, of course, when I\nhad better opportunity to study the men at close range and under\ncircumstances less fraught with danger and excitement. At the moment I\nsaw, and with unmixed wonder, only a score of wild savages charging\ndown upon us, where I had expected to find a community of civilized and\nenlightened people.\n\nEach of us was armed with rifle, revolver, and cutlass, but as we stood\nshoulder to shoulder facing the wild men I was loath to give the\ncommand to fire upon them, inflicting death or suffering upon strangers\nwith whom we had no quarrel, and so I attempted to restrain them for\nthe moment that we might parley with them.\n\nTo this end I raised my left hand above my head with the palm toward\nthem as the most natural gesture indicative of peaceful intentions\nwhich occurred to me. At the same time I called aloud to them that we\nwere friends, though, from their appearance, there was nothing to\nindicate that they might understand Pan-American, or ancient English,\nwhich are of course practically identical.\n\nAt my gesture and words they ceased their shouting and came to a halt a\nfew paces from us. Then, in deep tones, one who was in advance of the\nothers and whom I took to be the chief or leader of the party replied\nin a tongue which while intelligible to us, was so distorted from the\nEnglish language from which it evidently had sprung, that it was with\ndifficulty that we interpreted it.\n\n\"Who are you,\" he asked, \"and from what country?\"\n\nI told him that we were from Pan-America, but he only shook his head\nand asked where that was. He had never heard of it, or of the Atlantic\nOcean which I told him separated his country from mine.\n\n\"It has been two hundred years,\" I told him, \"since a Pan-American\nvisited England.\"\n\n\"England?\" he asked. \"What is England?\"\n\n\"Why this is a part of England!\" I exclaimed.\n\n\"This is Grubitten,\" he assured me. \"I know nothing about England, and\nI have lived here all my life.\"\n\nIt was not until long after that the derivation of Grubitten occurred\nto me. Unquestionably it is a corruption of Great Britain, a name\nformerly given to the large island comprising England, Scotland and\nWales. Subsequently we heard it pronounced Grabrittin and Grubritten.\n\nI then asked the fellow if he could direct us to Ryde or Newport; but\nagain he shook his head, and said that he never had heard of such\ncountries. And when I asked him if there were any cities in this\ncountry he did not know what I meant, never having heard the word\ncities.\n\nI explained my meaning as best I could by stating that by city I\nreferred to a place where many people lived together in houses.\n\n\"Oh,\" he exclaimed, \"you mean a camp! Yes, there are two great camps\nhere, East Camp and West Camp. We are from East Camp.\"\n\nThe use of the word camp to describe a collection of habitations\nnaturally suggested war to me, and my next question was as to whether\nthe war was over, and who had been victorious.\n\n\"No,\" he replied to this question. \"The war is not yet over. But it\nsoon will be, and it will end, as it always does, with the Westenders\nrunning away. We, the Eastenders, are always victorious.\"\n\n\"No,\" I said, seeing that he referred to the petty tribal wars of his\nlittle island, \"I mean the Great War, the war with Germany. Is it\nended--and who was victorious?\"\n\nHe shook his head impatiently.\n\n\"I never heard,\" he said, \"of any of these strange countries of which\nyou speak.\"\n\nIt seemed incredible, and yet it was true. These people living at the\nvery seat of the Great War knew nothing of it, though but two centuries\nhad passed since, to our knowledge, it had been running in the height\nof its titanic frightfulness all about them, and to us upon the far\nside of the Atlantic still was a subject of keen interest.\n\nHere was a lifelong inhabitant of the Isle of Wight who never had heard\nof either Germany or England! I turned to him quite suddenly with a\nnew question.\n\n\"What people live upon the mainland?\" I asked, and pointed in the\ndirection of the Hants coast.\n\n\"No one lives there,\" he replied.\n\n\"Long ago, it is said, my people dwelt across the waters upon that\nother land; but the wild beasts devoured them in such numbers that\nfinally they were driven here, paddling across upon logs and driftwood,\nnor has any dared return since, because of the frightful creatures\nwhich dwell in that horrid country.\"\n\n\"Do no other peoples ever come to your country in ships?\" I asked.\n\nHe never heard the word ship before, and did not know its meaning. But\nhe assured me that until we came he had thought that there were no\nother peoples in the world other than the Grubittens, who consist of\nthe Eastenders and the Westenders of the ancient Isle of Wight.\n\nAssured that we were inclined to friendliness, our new acquaintances\nled us to their village, or, as they call it, camp. There we found a\nthousand people, perhaps, dwelling in rude shelters, and living upon\nthe fruits of the chase and such sea food as is obtainable close to\nshore, for they had no boats, nor any knowledge of such things.\n\nTheir weapons were most primitive, consisting of rude spears tipped\nwith pieces of metal pounded roughly into shape. They had no\nliterature, no religion, and recognized no law other than the law of\nmight. They produced fire by striking a bit of flint and steel\ntogether, but for the most part they ate their food raw. Marriage is\nunknown among them, and while they have the word, mother, they did not\nknow what I meant by \"father.\" The males fight for the favor of the\nfemales. They practice infanticide, and kill the aged and physically\nunfit.\n\nThe family consists of the mother and the children, the men dwelling\nsometimes in one hut and sometimes in another. Owing to their bloody\nduels, they are always numerically inferior to the women, so there is\nshelter for them all.\n\nWe spent several hours in the village, where we were objects of the\ngreatest curiosity. The inhabitants examined our clothing and all our\nbelongings, and asked innumerable questions concerning the strange\ncountry from which we had come and the manner of our coming.\n\nI questioned many of them concerning past historical events, but they\nknew nothing beyond the narrow limits of their island and the savage,\nprimitive life they led there. London they had never heard of, and\nthey assured me that I would find no human beings upon the mainland.\n\nMuch saddened by what I had seen, I took my departure from them, and\nthe three of us made our way back to the launch, accompanied by about\nfive hundred men, women, girls, and boys.\n\nAs we sailed away, after procuring the necessary ingredients of our\nchemical fuel, the Grubittens lined the shore in silent wonder at the\nstrange sight of our dainty craft dancing over the sparkling waters,\nand watched us until we were lost to their sight.\n\n\n\n4\n\n\nIt was during the morning of July 6, 2137, that we entered the mouth of\nthe Thames--to the best of my knowledge the first Western keel to cut\nthose historic waters for two hundred and twenty-one years!\n\nBut where were the tugs and the lighters and the barges, the lightships\nand the buoys, and all those countless attributes which went to make up\nthe myriad life of the ancient Thames?\n\nGone! All gone! Only silence and desolation reigned where once the\ncommerce of the world had centered.\n\nI could not help but compare this once great water-way with the waters\nabout our New York, or Rio, or San Diego, or Valparaiso. They had\nbecome what they are today during the two centuries of the profound\npeace which we of the navy have been prone to deplore. And what,\nduring this same period, had shorn the waters of the Thames of their\npristine grandeur?\n\nMilitarist that I am, I could find but a single word of\nexplanation--war!\n\nI bowed my head and turned my eyes downward from the lonely and\ndepressing sight, and in a silence which none of us seemed willing to\nbreak, we proceeded up the deserted river.\n\nWe had reached a point which, from my map, I imagined must have been\nabout the former site of Erith, when I discovered a small band of\nantelope a short distance inland. As we were now entirely out of meat\nonce more, and as I had given up all expectations of finding a city\nupon the site of ancient London, I determined to land and bag a couple\nof the animals.\n\nAssured that they would be timid and easily frightened, I decided to\nstalk them alone, telling the men to wait at the boat until I called to\nthem to come and carry the carcasses back to the shore.\n\nCrawling carefully through the vegetation, making use of such trees and\nbushes as afforded shelter, I came at last almost within easy range of\nmy quarry, when the antlered head of the buck went suddenly into the\nair, and then, as though in accordance with a prearranged signal, the\nwhole band moved slowly off, farther inland.\n\nAs their pace was leisurely, I determined to follow them until I came\nagain within range, as I was sure that they would stop and feed in a\nshort time.\n\nThey must have led me a mile or more at least before they again halted\nand commenced to browse upon the rank, luxuriant grasses. All the time\nthat I had followed them I had kept both eyes and ears alert for sign\nor sound that would indicate the presence of Felis tigris; but so far\nnot the slightest indication of the beast had been apparent.\n\nAs I crept closer to the antelope, sure this time of a good shot at a\nlarge buck, I suddenly saw something that caused me to forget all about\nmy prey in wonderment.\n\nIt was the figure of an immense grey-black creature, rearing its\ncolossal shoulders twelve or fourteen feet above the ground. Never in\nmy life had I seen such a beast, nor did I at first recognize it, so\ndifferent in appearance is the live reality from the stuffed, unnatural\nspecimens preserved to us in our museums.\n\nBut presently I guessed the identity of the mighty creature as Elephas\nafricanus, or, as the ancients commonly described it, African elephant.\n\nThe antelope, although in plain view of the huge beast, paid not the\nslightest attention to it, and I was so wrapped up in watching the\nmighty pachyderm that I quite forgot to shoot at the buck and\npresently, and in quite a startling manner, it became impossible to do\nso.\n\nThe elephant was browsing upon the young and tender shoots of some low\nbushes, waving his great ears and switching his short tail. The\nantelope, scarce twenty paces from him, continued their feeding, when\nsuddenly, from close beside the latter, there came a most terrifying\nroar, and I saw a great, tawny body shoot, from the concealing verdure\nbeyond the antelope, full upon the back of a small buck.\n\nInstantly the scene changed from one of quiet and peace to\nindescribable chaos. The startled and terrified buck uttered cries of\nagony. His fellows broke and leaped off in all directions. The\nelephant raised his trunk, and, trumpeting loudly, lumbered off through\nthe wood, crushing down small trees and trampling bushes in his mad\nflight.\n\nGrowling horribly, a huge lion stood across the body of his prey--such\na creature as no Pan-American of the twenty-second century had ever\nbeheld until my eyes rested upon this lordly specimen of \"the king of\nbeasts.\" But what a different creature was this fierce-eyed demon,\npalpitating with life and vigor, glossy of coat, alert, growling,\nmagnificent, from the dingy, moth-eaten replicas beneath their glass\ncases in the stuffy halls of our public museums.\n\nI had never hoped or expected to see a living lion, tiger, or\nelephant--using the common terms that were familiar to the ancients,\nsince they seem to me less unwieldy than those now in general use among\nus--and so it was with sentiments not unmixed with awe that I stood\ngazing at this regal beast as, above the carcass of his kill, he roared\nout his challenge to the world.\n\nSo enthralled was I by the spectacle that I quite forgot myself, and\nthe better to view him, the great lion, I had risen to my feet and\nstood, not fifty paces from him, in full view.\n\nFor a moment he did not see me, his attention being directed toward the\nretreating elephant, and I had ample time to feast my eyes upon his\nsplendid proportions, his great head, and his thick black mane.\n\nAh, what thoughts passed through my mind in those brief moments as I\nstood there in rapt fascination! I had come to find a wondrous\ncivilization, and instead I found a wild-beast monarch of the realm\nwhere English kings had ruled. A lion reigned, undisturbed, within a\nfew miles of the seat of one of the greatest governments the world has\never known, his domain a howling wilderness, where yesterday fell the\nshadows of the largest city in the world.\n\nIt was appalling; but my reflections upon this depressing subject were\ndoomed to sudden extinction. The lion had discovered me.\n\nFor an instant he stood silent and motionless as one of the mangy\neffigies at home, but only for an instant. Then, with a most ferocious\nroar, and without the slightest hesitancy or warning, he charged upon\nme.\n\nHe forsook the prey already dead beneath him for the pleasures of the\ndelectable tidbit, man. From the remorselessness with which the great\nCarnivora of modern England hunted man, I am constrained to believe\nthat, whatever their appetites in times past, they have cultivated a\ngruesome taste for human flesh.\n\nAs I threw my rifle to my shoulder, I thanked God, the ancient God of\nmy ancestors, that I had replaced the hard-jacketed bullets in my\nweapon with soft-nosed projectiles, for though this was my first\nexperience with Felis leo, I knew the moment that I faced that charge\nthat even my wonderfully perfected firearm would be as futile as a\npeashooter unless I chanced to place my first bullet in a vital spot.\n\nUnless you had seen it you could not believe credible the speed of a\ncharging lion. Apparently the animal is not built for speed, nor can\nhe maintain it for long. But for a matter of forty or fifty yards\nthere is, I believe, no animal on earth that can overtake him.\n\nLike a bolt he bore down upon me, but, fortunately for me, I did not\nlose my head. I guessed that no bullet would kill him instantly. I\ndoubted that I could pierce his skull. There was hope, though, in\nfinding his heart through his exposed chest, or, better yet, of\nbreaking his shoulder or foreleg, and bringing him up long enough to\npump more bullets into him and finish him.\n\nI covered his left shoulder and pulled the trigger as he was almost\nupon me. It stopped him. With a terrific howl of pain and rage, the\nbrute rolled over and over upon the ground almost to my feet. As he\ncame I pumped two more bullets into him, and as he struggled to rise,\nclawing viciously at me, I put a bullet in his spine.\n\nThat finished him, and I am free to admit that I was mighty glad of it.\nThere was a great tree close behind me, and, stepping within its shade,\nI leaned against it, wiping the perspiration from my face, for the day\nwas hot, and the exertion and excitement left me exhausted.\n\nI stood there, resting, for a moment, preparatory to turning and\nretracing my steps to the launch, when, without warning, something\nwhizzed through space straight toward me. There was a dull thud of\nimpact as it struck the tree, and as I dodged to one side and turned to\nlook at the thing I saw a heavy spear imbedded in the wood not three\ninches from where my head had been.\n\nThe thing had come from a little to one side of me, and, without\nwaiting to investigate at the instant, I leaped behind the tree, and,\ncircling it, peered around the other side to get a sight of my would-be\nmurderer.\n\nThis time I was pitted against men--the spear told me that all too\nplainly--but so long as they didn't take me unawares or from behind I\nhad little fear of them.\n\nCautiously I edged about the far side of the trees until I could obtain\na view of the spot from which the spear must have come, and when I did\nI saw the head of a man just emerging from behind a bush.\n\nThe fellow was quite similar in type to those I had seen upon the Isle\nof Wight. He was hairy and unkempt, and as he finally stepped into\nview I saw that he was garbed in the same primitive fashion.\n\nHe stood for a moment gazing about in search of me, and then he\nadvanced. As he did so a number of others, precisely like him, stepped\nfrom the concealing verdure of nearby bushes and followed in his wake.\nKeeping the trees between them and me, I ran back a short distance\nuntil I found a clump of underbrush that would effectually conceal me,\nfor I wished to discover the strength of the party and its armament\nbefore attempting to parley with it.\n\nThe useless destruction of any of these poor creatures was the farthest\nidea from my mind. I should have liked to have spoken with them, but I\ndid not care to risk having to use my high-powered rifle upon them\nother than in the last extremity.\n\nOnce in my new place of concealment, I watched them as they approached\nthe tree. There were about thirty men in the party and one woman--a\ngirl whose hands seemed to be bound behind her and who was being pulled\nalong by two of the men.\n\nThey came forward warily, peering cautiously into every bush and\nhalting often. At the body of the lion, they paused, and I could see\nfrom their gesticulations and the higher pitch of their voices that\nthey were much excited over my kill.\n\nBut presently they resumed their search for me, and as they advanced I\nbecame suddenly aware of the unnecessary brutality with which the\ngirl's guards were treating her. She stumbled once, not far from my\nplace of concealment, and after the balance of the party had passed me.\nAs she did so one of the men at her side jerked her roughly to her feet\nand struck her across the mouth with his fist.\n\nInstantly my blood boiled, and forgetting every consideration of\ncaution, I leaped from my concealment, and, springing to the man's\nside, felled him with a blow.\n\nSo unexpected had been my act that it found him and his fellow\nunprepared; but instantly the latter drew the knife that protruded from\nhis belt and lunged viciously at me, at the same time giving voice to a\nwild cry of alarm.\n\nThe girl shrank back at sight of me, her eyes wide in astonishment, and\nthen my antagonist was upon me. I parried his first blow with my\nforearm, at the same time delivering a powerful blow to his jaw that\nsent him reeling back; but he was at me again in an instant, though in\nthe brief interim I had time to draw my revolver.\n\nI saw his companion crawling slowly to his feet, and the others of the\nparty racing down upon me. There was no time to argue now, other than\nwith the weapons we wore, and so, as the fellow lunged at me again with\nthe wicked-looking knife, I covered his heart and pulled the trigger.\n\nWithout a sound, he slipped to the earth, and then I turned the weapon\nupon the other guard, who was now about to attack me. He, too,\ncollapsed, and I was alone with the astonished girl.\n\nThe balance of the party was some twenty paces from us, but coming\nrapidly. I seized her arm and drew her after me behind a nearby tree,\nfor I had seen that with both their comrades down the others were\npreparing to launch their spears.\n\nWith the girl safe behind the tree, I stepped out in sight of the\nadvancing foe, shouting to them that I was no enemy, and that they\nshould halt and listen to me. But for answer they only yelled in\nderision and launched a couple of spears at me, both of which missed.\n\nI saw then that I must fight, yet still I hated to slay them, and it\nwas only as a final resort that I dropped two of them with my rifle,\nbringing the others to a temporary halt. Again, I appealed to them to\ndesist. But they only mistook my solicitude for them for fear, and,\nwith shouts of rage and derision, leaped forward once again to\noverwhelm me.\n\nIt was now quite evident that I must punish them severely,\nor--myself--die and relinquish the girl once more to her captors.\nNeither of these things had I the slightest notion of doing, and so I\nagain stepped from behind the tree, and, with all the care and\ndeliberation of target practice, I commenced picking off the foremost\nof my assailants.\n\nOne by one the wild men dropped, yet on came the others, fierce and\nvengeful, until, only a few remaining, these seemed to realize the\nfutility of combating my modern weapon with their primitive spears,\nand, still howling wrathfully, withdrew toward the west.\n\nNow, for the first time, I had an opportunity to turn my attention\ntoward the girl, who had stood, silent and motionless, behind me as I\npumped death into my enemies and hers from my automatic rifle.\n\nShe was of medium height, well formed, and with fine, clear-cut\nfeatures. Her forehead was high, and her eyes both intelligent and\nbeautiful. Exposure to the sun had browned a smooth and velvety skin\nto a shade which seemed to enhance rather than mar an altogether lovely\npicture of youthful femininity.\n\nA trace of apprehension marked her expression--I cannot call it fear\nsince I have learned to know her--and astonishment was still apparent\nin her eyes. She stood quite erect, her hands still bound behind her,\nand met my gaze with level, proud return.\n\n\"What language do you speak?\" I asked. \"Do you understand mine?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she replied. \"It is similar to my own. I am Grabritin. What\nare you?\"\n\n\"I am a Pan-American,\" I answered. She shook her head. \"What is that?\"\n\nI pointed toward the west. \"Far away, across the ocean.\"\n\nHer expression altered a trifle. A slight frown contracted her brow.\nThe expression of apprehension deepened.\n\n\"Take off your cap,\" she said, and when, to humor her strange request,\nI did as she bid, she appeared relieved. Then she edged to one side\nand leaned over seemingly to peer behind me. I turned quickly to see\nwhat she discovered, but finding nothing, wheeled about to see that her\nexpression was once more altered.\n\n\"You are not from there?\" and she pointed toward the east. It was a\nhalf question. \"You are not from across the water there?\"\n\n\"No,\" I assured her. \"I am from Pan-America, far away to the west.\nHave you ever heard of Pan-America?\"\n\nShe shook her head in negation. \"I do not care where you are from,\"\nshe explained, \"if you are not from there, and I am sure you are not,\nfor the men from there have horns and tails.\"\n\nIt was with difficulty that I restrained a smile.\n\n\"Who are the men from there?\" I asked.\n\n\"They are bad men,\" she replied. \"Some of my people do not believe\nthat there are such creatures. But we have a legend--a very old, old\nlegend, that once the men from there came across to Grabritin. They\ncame upon the water, and under the water, and even in the air. They\ncame in great numbers, so that they rolled across the land like a great\ngray fog. They brought with them thunder and lightning and smoke that\nkilled, and they fell upon us and slew our people by the thousands and\nthe hundreds of thousands. But at last we drove them back to the\nwater's edge, back into the sea, where many were drowned. Some\nescaped, and these our people followed--men, women, and even children,\nwe followed them back. That is all. The legend says our people never\nreturned. Maybe they were all killed. Maybe they are still there.\nBut this, also, is in the legend, that as we drove the men back across\nthe water they swore that they would return, and that when they left\nour shores they would leave no human being alive behind them. I was\nafraid that you were from there.\"\n\n\"By what name were these men called?\" I asked.\n\n\"We call them only the 'men from there,'\" she replied, pointing toward\nthe east. \"I have never heard that they had another name.\"\n\nIn the light of what I knew of ancient history, it was not difficult\nfor me to guess the nationality of those she described simply as \"the\nmen from over there.\" But what utter and appalling devastation the\nGreat War must have wrought to have erased not only every sign of\ncivilization from the face of this great land, but even the name of the\nenemy from the knowledge and language of the people.\n\nI could only account for it on the hypothesis that the country had been\nentirely depopulated except for a few scattered and forgotten children,\nwho, in some marvelous manner, had been preserved by Providence to\nre-populate the land. These children had, doubtless, been too young to\nretain in their memories to transmit to their children any but the\nvaguest suggestion of the cataclysm which had overwhelmed their parents.\n\nProfessor Cortoran, since my return to Pan-America, has suggested\nanother theory which is not entirely without claim to serious\nconsideration. He points out that it is quite beyond the pale of human\ninstinct to desert little children as my theory suggests the ancient\nEnglish must have done. He is more inclined to believe that the\nexpulsion of the foe from England was synchronous with widespread\nvictories by the allies upon the continent, and that the people of\nEngland merely emigrated from their ruined cities and their devastated,\nblood-drenched fields to the mainland, in the hope of finding, in the\ndomain of the conquered enemy, cities and farms which would replace\nthose they had lost.\n\nThe learned professor assumes that while a long-continued war had\nstrengthened rather than weakened the instinct of paternal devotion, it\nhad also dulled other humanitarian instincts, and raised to the first\nmagnitude the law of the survival of the fittest, with the result that\nwhen the exodus took place the strong, the intelligent, and the\ncunning, together with their offspring, crossed the waters of the\nChannel or the North Sea to the continent, leaving in unhappy England\nonly the helpless inmates of asylums for the feebleminded and insane.\n\nMy objections to this, that the present inhabitants of England are\nmentally fit, and could therefore not have descended from an ancestry\nof undiluted lunacy he brushes aside with the assertion that insanity\nis not necessarily hereditary; and that even though it was, in many\ncases a return to natural conditions from the state of high\ncivilization, which is thought to have induced mental disease in the\nancient world, would, after several generations, have thoroughly\nexpunged every trace of the affliction from the brains and nerves of\nthe descendants of the original maniacs.\n\nPersonally, I do not place much stock in Professor Cortoran's theory,\nthough I admit that I am prejudiced. Naturally one does not care to\nbelieve that the object of his greatest affection is descended from a\ngibbering idiot and a raving maniac.\n\nBut I am forgetting the continuity of my narrative--a continuity which\nI desire to maintain, though I fear that I shall often be led astray,\nso numerous and varied are the bypaths of speculation which lead from\nthe present day story of the Grabritins into the mysterious past of\ntheir forbears.\n\nAs I stood talking with the girl I presently recollected that she still\nwas bound, and with a word of apology, I drew my knife and cut the\nrawhide thongs which confined her wrists at her back.\n\nShe thanked me, and with such a sweet smile that I should have been\namply repaid by it for a much more arduous service.\n\n\"And now,\" I said, \"let me accompany you to your home and see you\nsafely again under the protection of your friends.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, with a hint of alarm in her voice; \"you must not come\nwith me--Buckingham will kill you.\"\n\nBuckingham. The name was famous in ancient English history. Its\nsurvival, with many other illustrious names, is one of the strongest\narguments in refutal of Professor Cortoran's theory; yet it opens no\nnew doors to the past, and, on the whole, rather adds to than\ndissipates the mystery.\n\n\"And who is Buckingham,\" I asked, \"and why should he wish to kill me?\"\n\n\"He would think that you had stolen me,\" she replied, \"and as he wishes\nme for himself, he will kill any other whom he thinks desires me. He\nkilled Wettin a few days ago. My mother told me once that Wettin was\nmy father. He was king. Now Buckingham is king.\"\n\nHere, evidently, were a people slightly superior to those of the Isle\nof Wight. These must have at least the rudiments of civilized\ngovernment since they recognized one among them as ruler, with the\ntitle, king. Also, they retained the word father. The girl's\npronunciation, while far from identical with ours, was much closer than\nthe tortured dialect of the Eastenders of the Isle of Wight. The\nlonger I talked with her the more hopeful I became of finding here,\namong her people, some records, or traditions, which might assist in\nclearing up the historic enigma of the past two centuries. I asked her\nif we were far from the city of London, but she did not know what I\nmeant. When I tried to explain, describing mighty buildings of stone\nand brick, broad avenues, parks, palaces, and countless people, she but\nshook her head sadly.\n\n\"There is no such place near by,\" she said. \"Only the Camp of the\nLions has places of stone where the beasts lair, but there are no\npeople in the Camp of the Lions. Who would dare go there!\" And she\nshuddered.\n\n\"The Camp of the Lions,\" I repeated. \"And where is that, and what?\"\n\n\"It is there,\" she said, pointing up the river toward the west. \"I\nhave seen it from a great distance, but I have never been there. We\nare much afraid of the lions, for this is their country, and they are\nangry that man has come to live here.\n\n\"Far away there,\" and she pointed toward the south-west, \"is the land\nof tigers, which is even worse than this, the land of the lions, for\nthe tigers are more numerous than the lions and hungrier for human\nflesh. There were tigers here long ago, but both the lions and the men\nset upon them and drove them off.\"\n\n\"Where did these savage beasts come from?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh,\" she replied, \"they have been here always. It is their country.\"\n\n\"Do they not kill and eat your people?\" I asked.\n\n\"Often, when we meet them by accident, and we are too few to slay them,\nor when one goes too close to their camp. But seldom do they hunt us,\nfor they find what food they need among the deer and wild cattle, and,\ntoo, we make them gifts, for are we not intruders in their country?\nReally we live upon good terms with them, though I should not care to\nmeet one were there not many spears in my party.\"\n\n\"I should like to visit this Camp of the Lions,\" I said.\n\n\"Oh, no, you must not!\" cried the girl. \"That would be terrible. They\nwould eat you.\" For a moment, then, she seemed lost in thought, but\npresently she turned upon me with: \"You must go now, for any minute\nBuckingham may come in search of me. Long since should they have\nlearned that I am gone from the camp--they watch over me very\nclosely--and they will set out after me. Go! I shall wait here until\nthey come in search of me.\"\n\n\"No,\" I told her. \"I'll not leave you alone in a land infested by\nlions and other wild beasts. If you won't let me go as far as your\ncamp with you, then I'll wait here until they come in search of you.\"\n\n\"Please go!\" she begged. \"You have saved me, and I would save you, but\nnothing will save you if Buckingham gets his hands on you. He is a bad\nman. He wishes to have me for his woman so that he may be king. He\nwould kill anyone who befriended me, for fear that I might become\nanother's.\"\n\n\"Didn't you say that Buckingham is already the king?\" I asked.\n\n\"He is. He took my mother for his woman after he had killed Wettin.\nBut my mother will die soon--she is very old--and then the man to whom\nI belong will become king.\"\n\nFinally, after much questioning, I got the thing through my head. It\nappears that the line of descent is through the women. A man is merely\nhead of his wife's family--that is all. If she chances to be the\noldest female member of the \"royal\" house, he is king. Very naively\nthe girl explained that there was seldom any doubt as to whom a child's\nmother was.\n\nThis accounted for the girl's importance in the community and for\nBuckingham's anxiety to claim her, though she told me that she did not\nwish to become his woman, for he was a bad man and would make a bad\nking. But he was powerful, and there was no other man who dared\ndispute his wishes.\n\n\"Why not come with me,\" I suggested, \"if you do not wish to become\nBuckingham's?\"\n\n\"Where would you take me?\" she asked.\n\nWhere, indeed! I had not thought of that. But before I could reply to\nher question she shook her head and said, \"No, I cannot leave my\npeople. I must stay and do my best, even if Buckingham gets me, but\nyou must go at once. Do not wait until it is too late. The lions have\nhad no offering for a long time, and Buckingham would seize upon the\nfirst stranger as a gift to them.\"\n\nI did not perfectly understand what she meant, and was about to ask her\nwhen a heavy body leaped upon me from behind, and great arms encircled\nmy neck. I struggled to free myself and turn upon my antagonist, but\nin another instant I was overwhelmed by a half dozen powerful,\nhalf-naked men, while a score of others surrounded me, a couple of whom\nseized the girl.\n\nI fought as best I could for my liberty and for hers, but the weight of\nnumbers was too great, though I had the satisfaction at least of giving\nthem a good fight.\n\nWhen they had overpowered me, and I stood, my hands bound behind me, at\nthe girl's side, she gazed commiseratingly at me.\n\n\"It is too bad that you did not do as I bid you,\" she said, \"for now it\nhas happened just as I feared--Buckingham has you.\"\n\n\"Which is Buckingham?\" I asked.\n\n\"I am Buckingham,\" growled a burly, unwashed brute, swaggering\ntruculently before me. \"And who are you who would have stolen my\nwoman?\"\n\nThe girl spoke up then and tried to explain that I had not stolen her;\nbut on the contrary I had saved her from the men from the \"Elephant\nCountry\" who were carrying her away.\n\nBuckingham only sneered at her explanation, and a moment later gave the\ncommand that started us all off toward the west. We marched for a\nmatter of an hour or so, coming at last to a collection of rude huts,\nfashioned from branches of trees covered with skins and grasses and\nsometimes plastered with mud. All about the camp they had erected a\nwall of saplings pointed at the tops and fire hardened.\n\nThis palisade was a protection against both man and beasts, and within\nit dwelt upward of two thousand persons, the shelters being built very\nclose together, and sometimes partially underground, like deep\ntrenches, with the poles and hides above merely as protection from the\nsun and rain.\n\nThe older part of the camp consisted almost wholly of trenches, as\nthough this had been the original form of dwellings which was slowly\ngiving way to the drier and airier surface domiciles. In these trench\nhabitations I saw a survival of the military trenches which formed so\nfamous a part of the operation of the warring nations during the\ntwentieth century.\n\nThe women wore a single light deerskin about their hips, for it was\nsummer, and quite warm. The men, too, were clothed in a single\ngarment, usually the pelt of some beast of prey. The hair of both men\nand women was confined by a rawhide thong passing about the forehead\nand tied behind. In this leathern band were stuck feathers, flowers,\nor the tails of small mammals. All wore necklaces of the teeth or\nclaws of wild beasts, and there were numerous metal wristlets and\nanklets among them.\n\nThey wore, in fact, every indication of a most primitive people--a race\nwhich had not yet risen to the heights of agriculture or even the\npossession of domestic animals. They were hunters--the lowest plane in\nthe evolution of the human race of which science takes cognizance.\n\nAnd yet as I looked at their well shaped heads, their handsome\nfeatures, and their intelligent eyes, it was difficult to believe that\nI was not among my own. It was only when I took into consideration\ntheir mode of living, their scant apparel, the lack of every least\nluxury among them, that I was forced to admit that they were, in truth,\nbut ignorant savages.\n\nBuckingham had relieved me of my weapons, though he had not the\nslightest idea of their purpose or uses, and when we reached the camp\nhe exhibited both me and my arms with every indication of pride in this\ngreat capture.\n\nThe inhabitants flocked around me, examining my clothing, and\nexclaiming in wonderment at each new discovery of button, buckle,\npocket, and flap. It seemed incredible that such a thing could be,\nalmost within a stone's throw of the spot where but a brief two\ncenturies before had stood the greatest city of the world.\n\nThey bound me to a small tree that grew in the middle of one of their\ncrooked streets, but the girl they released as soon as we had entered\nthe enclosure. The people greeted her with every mark of respect as\nshe hastened to a large hut near the center of the camp.\n\nPresently she returned with a fine looking, white-haired woman, who\nproved to be her mother. The older woman carried herself with a regal\ndignity that seemed quite remarkable in a place of such primitive\nsqualor.\n\nThe people fell aside as she approached, making a wide way for her and\nher daughter. When they had come near and stopped before me the older\nwoman addressed me.\n\n\"My daughter has told me,\" she said, \"of the manner in which you\nrescued her from the men of the elephant country. If Wettin lived you\nwould be well treated, but Buckingham has taken me now, and is king.\nYou can hope for nothing from such a beast as Buckingham.\"\n\nThe fact that Buckingham stood within a pace of us and was an\ninterested listener appeared not to temper her expressions in the\nslightest.\n\n\"Buckingham is a pig,\" she continued. \"He is a coward. He came upon\nWettin from behind and ran his spear through him. He will not be king\nfor long. Some one will make a face at him, and he will run away and\njump into the river.\"\n\nThe people began to titter and clap their hands. Buckingham became red\nin the face. It was evident that he was far from popular.\n\n\"If he dared,\" went on the old lady, \"he would kill me now, but he does\nnot dare. He is too great a coward. If I could help you I should\ngladly do so. But I am only queen--the vehicle that has helped carry\ndown, unsullied, the royal blood from the days when Grabritin was a\nmighty country.\"\n\nThe old queen's words had a noticeable effect upon the mob of curious\nsavages which surrounded me. The moment they discovered that the old\nqueen was friendly to me and that I had rescued her daughter they\ncommenced to accord me a more friendly interest, and I heard many words\nspoken in my behalf, and demands were made that I not be harmed.\n\nBut now Buckingham interfered. He had no intention of being robbed of\nhis prey. Blustering and storming, he ordered the people back to their\nhuts, at the same time directing two of his warriors to confine me in a\ndugout in one of the trenches close to his own shelter.\n\nHere they threw me upon the ground, binding my ankles together and\ntrussing them up to my wrists behind. There they left me, lying upon\nmy stomach--a most uncomfortable and strained position, to which was\nadded the pain where the cords cut into my flesh.\n\nJust a few days ago my mind had been filled with the anticipation of\nthe friendly welcome I should find among the cultured Englishmen of\nLondon. Today I should be sitting in the place of honor at the banquet\nboard of one of London's most exclusive clubs, feted and lionized.\n\nThe actuality! Here I lay, bound hand and foot, doubtless almost upon\nthe very site of a part of ancient London, yet all about me was a\nprimeval wilderness, and I was a captive of half-naked wild men.\n\nI wondered what had become of Delcarte and Taylor and Snider. Would\nthey search for me? They could never find me, I feared, yet if they\ndid, what could they accomplish against this horde of savage warriors?\n\nWould that I could warn them. I thought of the girl--doubtless she\ncould get word to them, but how was I to communicate with her? Would\nshe come to see me before I was killed? It seemed incredible that she\nshould not make some slight attempt to befriend me; yet, as I recalled,\nshe had made no effort to speak with me after we had reached the\nvillage. She had hastened to her mother the moment she had been\nliberated. Though she had returned with the old queen, she had not\nspoken to me, even then. I began to have my doubts.\n\nFinally, I came to the conclusion that I was absolutely friendless\nexcept for the old queen. For some unaccountable reason my rage\nagainst the girl for her ingratitude rose to colossal proportions.\n\nFor a long time I waited for some one to come to my prison whom I might\nask to bear word to the queen, but I seemed to have been forgotten.\nThe strained position in which I lay became unbearable. I wriggled and\ntwisted until I managed to turn myself partially upon my side, where I\nlay half facing the entrance to the dugout.\n\nPresently my attention was attracted by the shadow of something moving\nin the trench without, and a moment later the figure of a child\nappeared, creeping upon all fours, as, wide-eyed, and prompted by\nchildish curiosity, a little girl crawled to the entrance of my hut and\npeered cautiously and fearfully in.\n\nI did not speak at first for fear of frightening the little one away.\nBut when I was satisfied that her eyes had become sufficiently\naccustomed to the subdued light of the interior, I smiled.\n\nInstantly the expression of fear faded from her eyes to be replaced\nwith an answering smile.\n\n\"Who are you, little girl?\" I asked.\n\n\"My name is Mary,\" she replied. \"I am Victory's sister.\"\n\n\"And who is Victory?\"\n\n\"You do not know who Victory is?\" she asked, in astonishment.\n\nI shook my head in negation.\n\n\"You saved her from the elephant country people, and yet you say you do\nnot know her!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"Oh, so she is Victory, and you are her sister! I have not heard her\nname before. That is why I did not know whom you meant,\" I explained.\nHere was just the messenger for me. Fate was becoming more kind.\n\n\"Will you do something for me, Mary?\" I asked.\n\n\"If I can.\"\n\n\"Go to your mother, the queen, and ask her to come to me,\" I said. \"I\nhave a favor to ask.\"\n\nShe said that she would, and with a parting smile she left me.\n\nFor what seemed many hours I awaited her return, chafing with\nimpatience. The afternoon wore on and night came, and yet no one came\nnear me. My captors brought me neither food nor water. I was\nsuffering considerable pain where the rawhide thongs cut into my\nswollen flesh. I thought that they had either forgotten me, or that it\nwas their intention to leave me here to die of starvation.\n\nOnce I heard a great uproar in the village. Men were shouting--women\nwere screaming and moaning. After a time this subsided, and again\nthere was a long interval of silence.\n\nHalf the night must have been spent when I heard a sound in the trench\nnear the hut. It resembled muffled sobs. Presently a figure appeared,\nsilhouetted against the lesser darkness beyond the doorway. It crept\ninside the hut.\n\n\"Are you here?\" whispered a childlike voice.\n\nIt was Mary! She had returned. The thongs no longer hurt me. The\npangs of hunger and thirst disappeared. I realized that it had been\nloneliness from which I suffered most.\n\n\"Mary!\" I exclaimed. \"You are a good girl. You have come back, after\nall. I had commenced to think that you would not. Did you give my\nmessage to the queen? Will she come? Where is she?\"\n\nThe child's sobs increased, and she flung herself upon the dirt floor\nof the hut, apparently overcome by grief.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked. \"Why do you cry?\"\n\n\"The queen, my mother, will not come to you,\" she said, between sobs.\n\"She is dead. Buckingham has killed her. Now he will take Victory,\nfor Victory is queen. He kept us fastened up in our shelter, for fear\nthat Victory would escape him, but I dug a hole beneath the back wall\nand got out. I came to you, because you saved Victory once before, and\nI thought that you might save her again, and me, also. Tell me that\nyou will.\"\n\n\"I am bound and helpless, Mary,\" I replied. \"Otherwise I would do what\nI could to save you and your sister.\"\n\n\"I will set you free!\" cried the girl, creeping up to my side. \"I will\nset you free, and then you may come and slay Buckingham.\"\n\n\"Gladly!\" I assented.\n\n\"We must hurry,\" she went on, as she fumbled with the hard knots in the\nstiffened rawhide, \"for Buckingham will be after you soon. He must\nmake an offering to the lions at dawn before he can take Victory. The\ntaking of a queen requires a human offering!\"\n\n\"And I am to be the offering?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, tugging at a knot. \"Buckingham has been wanting a\nsacrifice ever since he killed Wettin, that he might slay my mother and\ntake Victory.\"\n\nThe thought was horrible, not solely because of the hideous fate to\nwhich I was condemned, but from the contemplation it engendered of the\nsad decadence of a once enlightened race. To these depths of\nignorance, brutality, and superstition had the vaunted civilization of\ntwentieth century England been plunged, and by what? War! I felt the\nstructure of our time-honored militaristic arguments crumbling about me.\n\nMary labored with the thongs that confined me. They proved\nrefractory--defying her tender, childish fingers. She assured me,\nhowever, that she would release me, if \"they\" did not come too soon.\n\nBut, alas, they came. We heard them coming down the trench, and I bade\nMary hide in a corner, lest she be discovered and punished. There was\nnaught else she could do, and so she crawled away into the Stygian\nblackness behind me.\n\nPresently two warriors entered. The leader exhibited a unique method\nof discovering my whereabouts in the darkness. He advanced slowly,\nkicking out viciously before him. Finally he kicked me in the face.\nThen he knew where I was.\n\nA moment later I had been jerked roughly to my feet. One of the\nfellows stopped and severed the bonds that held my ankles. I could\nscarcely stand alone. The two pulled and hauled me through the low\ndoorway and along the trench. A party of forty or fifty warriors were\nawaiting us at the brink of the excavation some hundred yards from the\nhut.\n\nHands were lowered to us, and we were dragged to the surface. Then\ncommenced a long march. We stumbled through the underbrush wet with\ndew, our way lighted by a score of torchbearers who surrounded us. But\nthe torches were not to light the way--that was but incidental. They\nwere carried to keep off the huge Carnivora that moaned and coughed and\nroared about us.\n\nThe noises were hideous. The whole country seemed alive with lions.\nYellow-green eyes blazed wickedly at us from out the surrounding\ndarkness. My escort carried long, heavy spears. These they kept ever\npointed toward the beast of prey, and I learned from snatches of the\nconversation I overheard that occasionally there might be a lion who\nwould brave even the terrors of fire to leap in upon human prey. It\nwas for such that the spears were always couched.\n\nBut nothing of the sort occurred during this hideous death march, and\nwith the first pale heralding of dawn we reached our goal--an open\nplace in the midst of a tangled wildwood. Here rose in crumbling\ngrandeur the first evidences I had seen of the ancient civilization\nwhich once had graced fair Albion--a single, time-worn arch of masonry.\n\n\"The entrance to the Camp of the Lions!\" murmured one of the party in a\nvoice husky with awe.\n\nHere the party knelt, while Buckingham recited a weird, prayer-like\nchant. It was rather long, and I recall only a portion of it, which\nran, if my memory serves me, somewhat as follows:\n\n Lord of Grabritin, we\n Fall on our knees to thee,\n This gift to bring.\n Greatest of kings are thou!\n To thee we humbly bow!\n Peace to our camp allow.\n God save thee, king!\n\n\nThen the party rose, and dragging me to the crumbling arch, made me\nfast to a huge, corroded, copper ring which was dangling from an\neyebolt imbedded in the masonry.\n\nNone of them, not even Buckingham, seemed to feel any personal\nanimosity toward me. They were naturally rough and brutal, as\nprimitive men are supposed to have been since the dawn of humanity, but\nthey did not go out of their way to maltreat me.\n\nWith the coming of dawn the number of lions about us seemed to have\ngreatly diminished--at least they made less noise--and as Buckingham\nand his party disappeared into the woods, leaving me alone to my\nterrible fate, I could hear the grumblings and growlings of the beasts\ndiminishing with the sound of the chant, which the party still\ncontinued. It appeared that the lions had failed to note that I had\nbeen left for their breakfast, and had followed off after their\nworshippers instead.\n\nBut I knew the reprieve would be but for a short time, and though I had\nno wish to die, I must confess that I rather wished the ordeal over and\nthe peace of oblivion upon me.\n\nThe voices of the men and the lions receded in the distance, until\nfinally quiet reigned about me, broken only by the sweet voices of\nbirds and the sighing of the summer wind in the trees.\n\nIt seemed impossible to believe that in this peaceful woodland setting\nthe frightful thing was to occur which must come with the passing of\nthe next lion who chanced within sight or smell of the crumbling arch.\n\nI strove to tear myself loose from my bonds, but succeeded only in\ntightening them about my arms. Then I remained passive for a long\ntime, letting the scenes of my lifetime pass in review before my mind's\neye.\n\nI tried to imagine the astonishment, incredulity, and horror with which\nmy family and friends would be overwhelmed if, for an instant, space\ncould be annihilated and they could see me at the gates of London.\n\nThe gates of London! Where was the multitude hurrying to the marts of\ntrade after a night of pleasure or rest? Where was the clang of\ntramcar gongs, the screech of motor horns, the vast murmur of a dense\nthrong?\n\nWhere were they? And as I asked the question a lone, gaunt lion strode\nfrom the tangled jungle upon the far side of the clearing.\nMajestically and noiselessly upon his padded feet the king of beasts\nmoved slowly toward the gates of London and toward me.\n\nWas I afraid? I fear that I was almost afraid. I know that I thought\nthat fear was coming to me, and so I straightened up and squared my\nshoulders and looked the lion straight in the eyes--and waited.\n\nIt is not a nice way to die--alone, with one's hands fast bound,\nbeneath the fangs and talons of a beast of prey. No, it is not a nice\nway to die, not a pretty way.\n\nThe lion was halfway across the clearing when I heard a slight sound\nbehind me. The great cat stopped in his tracks. He lashed his tail\nagainst his sides now, instead of simply twitching its tip, and his low\nmoan became a thunderous roar.\n\nAs I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of the thing that had aroused\nthe fury of the beast before me, it sprang through the arched gateway\nand was at my side--with parted lips and heaving bosom and disheveled\nhair--a bronzed and lovely vision to eyes that had never harbored hope\nof rescue.\n\nIt was Victory, and in her arms she clutched my rifle and revolver. A\nlong knife was in the doeskin belt that supported the doeskin skirt\ntightly about her lithe limbs. She dropped my weapons at my feet, and,\nsnatching the knife from its resting place, severed the bonds that held\nme. I was free, and the lion was preparing to charge.\n\n\"Run!\" I cried to the girl, as I bent and seized my rifle. But she\nonly stood there at my side, her bared blade ready in her hand.\n\nThe lion was bounding toward us now in prodigious leaps. I raised the\nrifle and fired. It was a lucky shot, for I had no time to aim\ncarefully, and when the beast crumpled and rolled, lifeless, to the\nground, I went upon my knees and gave thanks to the God of my ancestors.\n\nAnd, still upon my knees, I turned, and taking the girl's hand in mine,\nI kissed it. She smiled at that, and laid her other hand upon my head.\n\n\"You have strange customs in your country,\" she said.\n\nI could not but smile at that when I thought how strange it would seem\nto my countrymen could they but see me kneeling there on the site of\nLondon, kissing the hand of England's queen.\n\n\"And now,\" I said, as I rose, \"you must return to the safety of your\ncamp. I will go with you until you are near enough to continue alone\nin safety. Then I shall try to return to my comrades.\"\n\n\"I will not return to the camp,\" she replied.\n\n\"But what shall you do?\" I asked.\n\n\"I do not know. Only I shall never go back while Buckingham lives. I\nshould rather die than go back to him. Mary came to me, after they had\ntaken you from the camp, and told me. I found your strange weapons and\nfollowed with them. It took me a little longer, for often I had to\nhide in the trees that the lions might not get me, but I came in time,\nand now you are free to go back to your friends.\"\n\n\"And leave you here?\" I exclaimed.\n\nShe nodded, but I could see through all her brave front that she was\nfrightened at the thought. I could not leave her, of course, but what\nin the world I was to do, cumbered with the care of a young woman, and\na queen at that, I was at a loss to know. I pointed out that phase of\nit to her, but she only shrugged her shapely shoulders and pointed to\nher knife.\n\nIt was evident that she felt entirely competent to protect herself.\n\nAs we stood there we heard the sound of voices. They were coming from\nthe forest through which we had passed when we had come from camp.\n\n\"They are searching for me,\" said the girl. \"Where shall we hide?\"\n\nI didn't relish hiding. But when I thought of the innumerable dangers\nwhich surrounded us and the comparatively small amount of ammunition\nthat I had with me, I hesitated to provoke a battle with Buckingham and\nhis warriors when, by flight, I could avoid them and preserve my\ncartridges against emergencies which could not be escaped.\n\n\"Would they follow us there?\" I asked, pointing through the archway\ninto the Camp of the Lions.\n\n\"Never,\" she replied, \"for, in the first place, they would know that we\nwould not dare go there, and in the second they themselves would not\ndare.\"\n\n\"Then we shall take refuge in the Camp of the Lions,\" I said.\n\nShe shuddered and drew closer to me.\n\n\"You dare?\" she asked.\n\n\"Why not?\" I returned. \"We shall be safe from Buckingham, and you have\nseen, for the second time in two days, that lions are harmless before\nmy weapons. Then, too, I can find my friends easiest in this\ndirection, for the River Thames runs through this place you call the\nCamp of the Lions, and it is farther down the Thames that my friends\nare awaiting me. Do you not dare come with me?\"\n\n\"I dare follow wherever you lead,\" she answered simply.\n\nAnd so I turned and passed beneath the great arch into the city of\nLondon.\n\n\n\n5\n\n\nAs we entered deeper into what had once been the city, the evidences of\nman's past occupancy became more frequent. For a mile from the arch\nthere was only a riot of weeds and undergrowth and trees covering small\nmounds and little hillocks that, I was sure, were formed of the ruins\nof stately buildings of the dead past.\n\nBut presently we came upon a district where shattered walls still\nraised their crumbling tops in sad silence above the grass-grown\nsepulchers of their fallen fellows. Softened and mellowed by ancient\nivy stood these sentinels of sorrow, their scarred faces still\nrevealing the rents and gashes of shrapnel and of bomb.\n\nContrary to our expectations, we found little indication that lions in\nany great numbers laired in this part of ancient London. Well-worn\npathways, molded by padded paws, led through the cavernous windows or\ndoorways of a few of the ruins we passed, and once we saw the savage\nface of a great, black-maned lion scowling down upon us from a\nshattered stone balcony.\n\nWe followed down the bank of the Thames after we came upon it. I was\nanxious to look with my own eyes upon the famous bridge, and I guessed,\ntoo, that the river would lead me into the part of London where stood\nWestminster Abbey and the Tower.\n\nRealizing that the section through which we had been passing was\ndoubtless outlying, and therefore not so built up with large structures\nas the more centrally located part of the old town, I felt sure that\nfarther down the river I should find the ruins larger. The bridge\nwould be there in part, at least, and so would remain the walls of many\nof the great edifices of the past. There would be no such complete\nruin of large structures as I had seen among the smaller buildings.\n\nBut when I had come to that part of the city which I judged to have\ncontained the relics I sought I found havoc that had been wrought there\neven greater than elsewhere.\n\nAt one point upon the bosom of the Thames there rises a few feet above\nthe water a single, disintegrating mound of masonry. Opposite it, upon\neither bank of the river, are tumbled piles of ruins overgrown with\nvegetation.\n\nThese, I am forced to believe, are all that remain of London Bridge,\nfor nowhere else along the river is there any other slightest sign of\npier or abutment.\n\nRounding the base of a large pile of grass-covered debris, we came\nsuddenly upon the best preserved ruin we had yet discovered. The\nentire lower story and part of the second story of what must once have\nbeen a splendid public building rose from a great knoll of shrubbery\nand trees, while ivy, thick and luxuriant, clambered upward to the\nsummit of the broken walls.\n\nIn many places the gray stone was still exposed, its smoothly chiseled\nface pitted with the scars of battle. The massive portal yawned,\nsomber and sorrowful, before us, giving a glimpse of marble halls\nwithin.\n\nThe temptation to enter was too great. I wished to explore the\ninterior of this one remaining monument of civilization now dead beyond\nrecall. Through this same portal, within these very marble halls, had\nGray and Chamberlin and Kitchener and Shaw, perhaps, come and gone with\nthe other great ones of the past.\n\nI took Victory's hand in mine.\n\n\"Come!\" I said. \"I do not know the name by which this great pile was\nknown, nor the purposes it fulfilled. It may have been the palace of\nyour sires, Victory. From some great throne within, your forebears may\nhave directed the destinies of half the world. Come!\"\n\nI must confess to a feeling of awe as we entered the rotunda of the\ngreat building. Pieces of massive furniture of another day still stood\nwhere man had placed them centuries ago. They were littered with dust\nand broken stone and plaster, but, otherwise, so perfect was their\npreservation I could hardly believe that two centuries had rolled by\nsince human eyes were last set upon them.\n\nThrough one great room after another we wandered, hand in hand, while\nVictory asked many questions and for the first time I began to realize\nsomething of the magnificence and power of the race from whose loins\nshe had sprung.\n\nSplendid tapestries, now mildewed and rotting, hung upon the walls.\nThere were mural paintings, too, depicting great historic events of the\npast. For the first time Victory saw the likeness of a horse, and she\nwas much affected by a huge oil which depicted some ancient cavalry\ncharge against a battery of field guns.\n\nIn other pictures there were steamships, battleships, submarines, and\nquaint looking railway trains--all small and antiquated in appearance\nto me, but wonderful to Victory. She told me that she would like to\nremain for the rest of her life where she could look at those pictures\ndaily.\n\nFrom room to room we passed until presently we emerged into a mighty\nchamber, dark and gloomy, for its high and narrow windows were choked\nand clogged by ivy. Along one paneled wall we groped, our eyes slowly\nbecoming accustomed to the darkness. A rank and pungent odor pervaded\nthe atmosphere.\n\nWe had made our way about half the distance across one end of the great\napartment when a low growl from the far end brought us to a startled\nhalt.\n\nStraining my eyes through the gloom, I made out a raised dais at the\nextreme opposite end of the hall. Upon the dais stood two great\nchairs, highbacked and with great arms.\n\nThe throne of England! But what were those strange forms about it?\n\nVictory gave my hand a quick, excited little squeeze.\n\n\"The lions!\" she whispered.\n\nYes, lions indeed! Sprawled about the dais were a dozen huge forms,\nwhile upon the seat of one of the thrones a small cub lay curled in\nslumber.\n\nAs we stood there for a moment, spellbound by the sight of those\nfearsome creatures occupying the very thrones of the sovereigns of\nEngland, the low growl was repeated, and a great male rose slowly to\nhis feet.\n\nHis devilish eyes bored straight through the semi-darkness toward us.\nHe had discovered the interloper. What right had man within this\npalace of the beasts? Again he opened his giant jaws, and this time\nthere rumbled forth a warning roar.\n\nInstantly eight or ten of the other beasts leaped to their feet.\nAlready the great fellow who had spied us was advancing slowly in our\ndirection. I held my rifle ready, but how futile it appeared in the\nface of this savage horde.\n\nThe foremost beast broke into a slow trot, and at his heels came the\nothers. All were roaring now, and the din of their great voices\nreverberating through the halls and corridors of the palace formed the\nmost frightful chorus of thunderous savagery imaginable to the mind of\nman.\n\nAnd then the leader charged, and upon the hideous pandemonium broke the\nsharp crack of my rifle, once, twice, thrice. Three lions rolled,\nstruggling and biting, to the floor. Victory seized my arm, with a\nquick, \"This way! Here is a door,\" and a moment later we were in a\ntiny antechamber at the foot of a narrow stone staircase.\n\nUp this we backed, Victory just behind me, as the first of the\nremaining lions leaped from the throne room and sprang for the stairs.\nAgain I fired, but others of the ferocious beasts leaped over their\nfallen fellows and pursued us.\n\nThe stairs were very narrow--that was all that saved us--for as I\nbacked slowly upward, but a single lion could attack me at a time, and\nthe carcasses of those I slew impeded the rushes of the others.\n\nAt last we reached the top. There was a long corridor from which\nopened many doorways. One, directly behind us, was tight closed. If\nwe could open it and pass into the chamber behind we might find a\nrespite from attack.\n\nThe remaining lions were roaring horribly. I saw one sneaking very\nslowly up the stairs toward us.\n\n\"Try that door,\" I called to Victory. \"See if it will open.\"\n\nShe ran up to it and pushed.\n\n\"Turn the knob!\" I cried, seeing that she did not know how to open a\ndoor, but neither did she know what I meant by knob.\n\nI put a bullet in the spine of the approaching lion and leaped to\nVictory's side. The door resisted my first efforts to swing it inward.\nRusted hinges and swollen wood held it tightly closed. But at last it\ngave, and just as another lion mounted to the top of the stairway it\nswung in, and I pushed Victory across the threshold.\n\nThen I turned to meet the renewed attack of the savage foe. One lion\nfell in his tracks, another stumbled to my very feet, and then I leaped\nwithin and slammed the portal to.\n\nA quick glance showed me that this was the only door to the small\napartment in which we had found sanctuary, and, with a sigh of relief,\nI leaned for a moment against the panels of the stout barrier that\nseparated us from the ramping demons without.\n\nAcross the room, between two windows, stood a flat-topped desk. A\nlittle pile of white and brown lay upon it close to the opposite edge.\nAfter a moment of rest I crossed the room to investigate. The white\nwas the bleached human bones--the skull, collar bones, arms, and a few\nof the upper ribs of a man. The brown was the dust of a decayed\nmilitary cap and blouse. In a chair before the desk were other bones,\nwhile more still strewed the floor beneath the desk and about the\nchair. A man had died sitting there with his face buried in his\narms--two hundred years ago.\n\nBeneath the desk were a pair of spurred military boots, green and\nrotten with decay. In them were the leg bones of a man. Among the\ntiny bones of the hands was an ancient fountain pen, as good,\napparently, as the day it was made, and a metal covered memoranda book,\nclosed over the bones of an index finger.\n\nIt was a gruesome sight--a pitiful sight--this lone inhabitant of\nmighty London.\n\nI picked up the metal covered memoranda book. Its pages were rotten\nand stuck together. Only here and there was a sentence or a part of a\nsentence legible. The first that I could read was near the middle of\nthe little volume:\n\n\"His majesty left for Tunbridge Wells today, he ... jesty was\nstricken ... terday. God give she does not die ... am military\ngovernor of Lon ...\"\n\nAnd farther on:\n\n\"It is awful ... hundred deaths today ... worse than the bombardm ...\"\n\nNearer the end I picked out the following:\n\n\"I promised his maj ... e will find me here when he ret ... alone.\"\n\nThe most legible passage was on the next page:\n\n\"Thank God we drove them out. There is not a single ... man on\nBritish soil today; but at what awful cost. I tried to persuade Sir\nPhillip to urge the people to remain. But they are mad with fear of\nthe Death, and rage at our enemies. He tells me that the coast cities\nare packed ... waiting to be taken across. What will become of\nEngland, with none left to rebuild her shattered cities!\"\n\nAnd the last entry:\n\n\"... alone. Only the wild beasts ... A lion is roaring now\nbeneath the palace windows. I think the people feared the beasts even\nmore than they did the Death. But they are gone, all gone, and to\nwhat? How much better conditions will they find on the continent? All\ngone--only I remain. I promised his majesty, and when he returns he\nwill find that I was true to my trust, for I shall be awaiting him.\nGod save the King!\"\n\nThat was all. This brave and forever nameless officer died nobly at\nhis post--true to his country and his king. It was the Death, no\ndoubt, that took him.\n\nSome of the entries had been dated. From the few legible letters and\nfigures which remained I judge the end came some time in August, 1937,\nbut of that I am not at all certain.\n\nThe diary has cleared up at least one mystery that had puzzled me not a\nlittle, and now I am surprised that I had not guessed its solution\nmyself--the presence of African and Asiatic beasts in England.\n\nAcclimated by years of confinement in the zoological gardens, they were\nfitted to resume in England the wild existence for which nature had\nintended them, and once free, had evidently bred prolifically, in\nmarked contrast to the captive exotics of twentieth century\nPan-America, which had gradually become fewer until extinction occurred\nsome time during the twenty-first century.\n\nThe palace, if such it was, lay not far from the banks of the Thames.\nThe room in which we were imprisoned overlooked the river, and I\ndetermined to attempt to escape in this direction.\n\nTo descend through the palace was out of the question, but outside we\ncould discover no lions. The stems of the ivy which clambered upward\npast the window of the room were as large around as my arm. I knew\nthat they would support our weight, and as we could gain nothing by\nremaining longer in the palace, I decided to descend by way of the ivy\nand follow along down the river in the direction of the launch.\n\nNaturally I was much handicapped by the presence of the girl. But I\ncould not abandon her, though I had no idea what I should do with her\nafter rejoining my companions. That she would prove a burden and an\nembarrassment I was certain, but she had made it equally plain to me\nthat she would never return to her people to mate with Buckingham.\n\nI owed my life to her, and, all other considerations aside, that was\nsufficient demand upon my gratitude and my honor to necessitate my\nsuffering every inconvenience in her service. Too, she was queen of\nEngland. But, by far the most potent argument in her favor, she was a\nwoman in distress--and a young and very beautiful one.\n\nAnd so, though I wished a thousand times that she was back in her camp,\nI never let her guess it, but did all that lay within my power to serve\nand protect her. I thank God now that I did so.\n\nWith the lions still padding back and forth beyond the closed door,\nVictory and I crossed the room to one of the windows. I had outlined\nmy plan to her, and she had assured me that she could descend the ivy\nwithout assistance. In fact, she smiled a trifle at my question.\n\nSwinging myself outward, I began the descent, and had come to within a\nfew feet of the ground, being just opposite a narrow window, when I was\nstartled by a savage growl almost in my ear, and then a great taloned\npaw darted from the aperture to seize me, and I saw the snarling face\nof a lion within the embrasure.\n\nReleasing my hold upon the ivy, I dropped the remaining distance to the\nground, saved from laceration only because the lion's paw struck the\nthick stem of ivy.\n\nThe creature was making a frightful racket now, leaping back and forth\nfrom the floor at the broad window ledge, tearing at the masonry with\nhis claws in vain attempts to reach me. But the opening was too\nnarrow, and the masonry too solid.\n\nVictory had commenced the descent, but I called to her to stop just\nabove the window, and, as the lion reappeared, growling and snarling, I\nput a .33 bullet in his face, and at the same moment Victory slipped\nquickly past him, dropping into my upraised arms that were awaiting her.\n\nThe roaring of the beasts that had discovered us, together with the\nreport of my rifle, had set the balance of the fierce inmates of the\npalace into the most frightful uproar I have ever heard.\n\nI feared that it would not be long before intelligence or instinct\nwould draw them from the interiors and set them upon our trail, the\nriver. Nor had we much more than reached it when a lion bounded around\nthe corner of the edifice we had just quitted and stood looking about\nas though in search of us.\n\nFollowing, came others, while Victory and I crouched in hiding behind a\nclump of bushes close to the bank of the river. The beasts sniffed\nabout the ground for a while, but they did not chance to go near the\nspot where we had stood beneath the window that had given us escape.\n\nPresently a black-maned male raised his head, and, with cocked ears and\nglaring eyes, gazed straight at the bush behind which we lay. I could\nhave sworn that he had discovered us, and when he took a few short and\nstately steps in our direction I raised my rifle and covered him. But,\nafter a long, tense moment he looked away, and turned to glare in\nanother direction.\n\nI breathed a sigh of relief, and so did Victory. I could feel her body\nquiver as she lay pressed close to me, our cheeks almost touching as we\nboth peered through the same small opening in the foliage.\n\nI turned to give her a reassuring smile as the lion indicated that he\nhad not seen us, and as I did so she, too, turned her face toward mine,\nfor the same purpose, doubtless. Anyway, as our heads turned\nsimultaneously, our lips brushed together. A startled expression came\ninto Victory's eyes as she drew back in evident confusion.\n\nAs for me, the strangest sensation that I have ever experienced claimed\nme for an instant. A peculiar, tingling thrill ran through my veins,\nand my head swam. I could not account for it.\n\nNaturally, being a naval officer and consequently in the best society\nof the federation, I have seen much of women. With others, I have\nlaughed at the assertions of the savants that modern man is a cold and\npassionless creation in comparison with the males of former ages--in a\nword, that love, as the one grand passion, had ceased to exist.\n\nI do not know, now, but that they were more nearly right than we have\nguessed, at least in so far as modern civilized woman is concerned. I\nhave kissed many women--young and beautiful and middle aged and old,\nand many that I had no business kissing--but never before had I\nexperienced that remarkable and altogether delightful thrill that\nfollowed the accidental brushing of my lips against the lips of Victory.\n\nThe occurrence interested me, and I was tempted to experiment further.\nBut when I would have essayed it another new and entirely unaccountable\nforce restrained me. For the first time in my life I felt\nembarrassment in the presence of a woman.\n\nWhat further might have developed I cannot say, for at that moment a\nperfect she-devil of a lioness, with keener eyes than her lord and\nmaster, discovered us. She came trotting toward our place of\nconcealment, growling and baring her yellow fangs.\n\nI waited for an instant, hoping that I might be mistaken, and that she\nwould turn off in some other direction. But no--she increased her trot\nto a gallop, and then I fired at her, but the bullet, though it struck\nher full in the breast, didn't stop her.\n\nScreaming with pain and rage, the creature fairly flew toward us.\nBehind her came other lions. Our case looked hopeless. We were upon\nthe brink of the river. There seemed no avenue of escape, and I knew\nthat even my modern automatic rifle was inadequate in the face of so\nmany of these fierce beasts.\n\nTo remain where we were would have been suicidal. We were both\nstanding now, Victory keeping her place bravely at my side, when I\nreached the only decision open to me.\n\nSeizing the girl's hand, I turned, just as the lioness crashed into the\nopposite side of the bushes, and, dragging Victory after me, leaped\nover the edge of the bank into the river.\n\nI did not know that lions are not fond of water, nor did I know if\nVictory could swim, but death, immediate and terrible, stared us in the\nface if we remained, and so I took the chance.\n\nAt this point the current ran close to the shore, so that we were\nimmediately in deep water, and, to my intense satisfaction, Victory\nstruck out with a strong, overhand stroke and set all my fears on her\naccount at rest.\n\nBut my relief was short-lived. That lioness, as I have said before,\nwas a veritable devil. She stood for a moment glaring at us, then like\na shot she sprang into the river and swam swiftly after us.\n\nVictory was a length ahead of me.\n\n\"Swim for the other shore!\" I called to her.\n\nI was much impeded by my rifle, having to swim with one hand while I\nclung to my precious weapon with the other. The girl had seen the\nlioness take to the water, and she had also seen that I was swimming\nmuch more slowly than she, and what did she do? She started to drop\nback to my side.\n\n\"Go on!\" I cried. \"Make for the other shore, and then follow down\nuntil you find my friends. Tell them that I sent you, and with orders\nthat they are to protect you. Go on! Go on!\"\n\nBut she only waited until we were again swimming side by side, and I\nsaw that she had drawn her long knife, and was holding it between her\nteeth.\n\n\"Do as I tell you!\" I said to her sharply, but she shook her head.\n\nThe lioness was overhauling us rapidly. She was swimming silently, her\nchin just touching the water, but blood was streaming from between her\nlips. It was evident that her lungs were pierced.\n\nShe was almost upon me. I saw that in a moment she would take me under\nher forepaws, or seize me in those great jaws. I felt that my time had\ncome, but I meant to die fighting. And so I turned, and, treading\nwater, raised my rifle above my head and awaited her.\n\nVictory, animated by a bravery no less ferocious than that of the dumb\nbeast assailing us, swam straight for me. It all happened so swiftly\nthat I cannot recall the details of the kaleidoscopic action which\nensued. I knew that I rose high out of the water, and, with clubbed\nrifle, dealt the animal a terrific blow upon the skull, that I saw\nVictory, her long blade flashing in her hand, close, striking, upon the\nbeast, that a great paw fell upon her shoulder, and that I was swept\nbeneath the surface of the water like a straw before the prow of a\nfreighter.\n\nStill clinging to my rifle, I rose again, to see the lioness struggling\nin her death throes but an arm's length from me. Scarcely had I risen\nthan the beast turned upon her side, struggled frantically for an\ninstant, and then sank.\n\n\n\n6\n\n\nVictory was nowhere in sight. Alone, I floated upon the bosom of the\nThames. In that brief instant I believe that I suffered more mental\nanguish than I have crowded into all the balance of my life before or\nsince. A few hours before, I had been wishing that I might be rid of\nher, and now that she was gone I would have given my life to have her\nback again.\n\nWearily I turned to swim about the spot where she had disappeared,\nhoping that she might rise once at least, and I would be given the\nopportunity to save her, and, as I turned, the water boiled before my\nface and her head shot up before me. I was on the point of striking\nout to seize her, when a happy smile illumined her features.\n\n\"You are not dead!\" she cried. \"I have been searching the bottom for\nyou. I was sure that the blow she gave you must have disabled you,\"\nand she glanced about for the lioness.\n\n\"She has gone?\" she asked.\n\n\"Dead,\" I replied.\n\n\"The blow you struck her with the thing you call rifle stunned her,\"\nshe explained, \"and then I swam in close enough to get my knife into\nher heart.\"\n\nAh, such a girl! I could not but wonder what one of our own\nPan-American women would have done under like circumstances. But then,\nof course, they have not been trained by stern necessity to cope with\nthe emergencies and dangers of savage primeval life.\n\nAlong the bank we had just quitted, a score of lions paced to and fro,\ngrowling menacingly. We could not return, and we struck out for the\nopposite shore. I am a strong swimmer, and had no doubt as to my\nability to cross the river, but I was not so sure about Victory, so I\nswam close behind her, to be ready to give her assistance should she\nneed it.\n\nShe did not, however, reaching the opposite bank as fresh, apparently,\nas when she entered the water. Victory is a wonder. Each day that we\nwere together brought new proofs of it. Nor was it her courage or\nvitality only which amazed me. She had a head on those shapely\nshoulders of hers, and dignity! My, but she could be regal when she\nchose!\n\nShe told me that the lions were fewer upon this side of the river, but\nthat there were many wolves, running in great packs later in the year.\nNow they were north somewhere, and we should have little to fear from\nthem, though we might meet with a few.\n\nMy first concern was to take my weapons apart and dry them, which was\nrather difficult in the face of the fact that every rag about me was\ndrenched. But finally, thanks to the sun and much rubbing, I\nsucceeded, though I had no oil to lubricate them.\n\nWe ate some wild berries and roots that Victory found, and then we set\noff again down the river, keeping an eye open for game on one side and\nthe launch on the other, for I thought that Delcarte, who would be the\nnatural leader during my absence, might run up the Thames in search of\nme.\n\nThe balance of that day we sought in vain for game or for the launch,\nand when night came we lay down, our stomachs empty, to sleep beneath\nthe stars. We were entirely unprotected from attack from wild beasts,\nand for this reason I remained awake most of the night, on guard. But\nnothing approached us, though I could hear the lions roaring across the\nriver, and once I thought I heard the howl of a beast north of us--it\nmight have been a wolf.\n\nAltogether, it was a most unpleasant night, and I determined then that\nif we were forced to sleep out again that I should provide some sort of\nshelter which would protect us from attack while we slept.\n\nToward morning I dozed, and the sun was well up when Victory aroused me\nby gently shaking my shoulder.\n\n\"Antelope!\" she whispered in my ear, and, as I raised my head, she\npointed up-river. Crawling to my knees, I looked in the direction she\nindicated, to see a buck standing upon a little knoll some two hundred\nyards from us. There was good cover between the animal and me, and so,\nthough I might have hit him at two hundred yards, I preferred to crawl\ncloser to him and make sure of the meat we both so craved.\n\nI had covered about fifty yards of the distance, and the beast was\nstill feeding peacefully, so I thought that I would make even surer of\na hit by going ahead another fifty yards, when the animal suddenly\nraised his head and looked away, up-river. His whole attitude\nproclaimed that he was startled by something beyond him that I could\nnot see.\n\nRealizing that he might break and run and that I should then probably\nmiss him entirely, I raised my rifle to my shoulder. But even as I did\nso the animal leaped into the air, and simultaneously there was a sound\nof a shot from beyond the knoll.\n\nFor an instant I was dumbfounded. Had the report come from down-river,\nI should have instantly thought that one of my own men had fired. But\ncoming from up-river it puzzled me considerably. Who could there be\nwith firearms in primitive England other than we of the Coldwater?\n\nVictory was directly behind me, and I motioned for her to lie down, as\nI did, behind the bush from which I had been upon the point of firing\nat the antelope. We could see that the buck was quite dead, and from\nour hiding place we waited to discover the identity of his slayer when\nthe latter should approach and claim his kill.\n\nWe had not long to wait, and when I saw the head and shoulders of a man\nappear above the crest of the knoll, I sprang to my feet, with a\nheartfelt cry of joy, for it was Delcarte.\n\nAt the sound of my voice, Delcarte half raised his rifle in readiness\nfor the attack of an enemy, but a moment later he recognized me, and\nwas coming rapidly to meet us. Behind him was Snider. They both were\nastounded to see me upon the north bank of the river, and much more so\nat the sight of my companion.\n\nThen I introduced them to Victory, and told them that she was queen of\nEngland. They thought, at first, that I was joking. But when I had\nrecounted my adventures and they realized that I was in earnest, they\nbelieved me.\n\nThey told me that they had followed me inshore when I had not returned\nfrom the hunt, that they had met the men of the elephant country, and\nhad had a short and one-sided battle with the fellows. And that\nafterward they had returned to the launch with a prisoner, from whom\nthey had learned that I had probably been captured by the men of the\nlion country.\n\nWith the prisoner as a guide they had set off up-river in search of me,\nbut had been much delayed by motor trouble, and had finally camped\nafter dark a half mile above the spot where Victory and I had spent the\nnight. They must have passed us in the dark, and why I did not hear\nthe sound of the propeller I do not know, unless it passed me at a time\nwhen the lions were making an unusually earsplitting din upon the\nopposite side.\n\nTaking the antelope with us, we all returned to the launch, where we\nfound Taylor as delighted to see me alive again as Delcarte had been.\nI cannot say truthfully that Snider evinced much enthusiasm at my\nrescue.\n\nTaylor had found the ingredients for chemical fuel, and the distilling\nof them had, with the motor trouble, accounted for their delay in\nsetting out after me.\n\nThe prisoner that Delcarte and Snider had taken was a powerful young\nfellow from the elephant country. Notwithstanding the fact that they\nhad all assured him to the contrary, he still could not believe that we\nwould not kill him.\n\nHe assured us that his name was Thirty-six, and, as he could not count\nabove ten, I am sure that he had no conception of the correct meaning\nof the word, and that it may have been handed down to him either from\nthe military number of an ancestor who had served in the English ranks\nduring the Great War, or that originally it was the number of some\nfamous regiment with which a forbear fought.\n\nNow that we were reunited, we held a council to determine what course\nwe should pursue in the immediate future. Snider was still for setting\nout to sea and returning to Pan-America, but the better judgment of\nDelcarte and Taylor ridiculed the suggestion--we should not have lived\na fortnight.\n\nTo remain in England, constantly menaced by wild beasts and men equally\nas wild, seemed about as bad. I suggested that we cross the Channel\nand ascertain if we could not discover a more enlightened and civilized\npeople upon the continent. I was sure that some trace of the ancient\nculture and greatness of Europe must remain. Germany, probably, would\nbe much as it was during the twentieth century, for, in common with\nmost Pan-Americans, I was positive that Germany had been victorious in\nthe Great War.\n\nSnider demurred at the suggestion. He said that it was bad enough to\nhave come this far. He did not want to make it worse by going to the\ncontinent. The outcome of it was that I finally lost my patience, and\ntold him that from then on he would do what I thought best--that I\nproposed to assume command of the party, and that they might all\nconsider themselves under my orders, as much so as though we were still\naboard the Coldwater and in Pan-American waters.\n\nDelcarte and Taylor immediately assured me that they had not for an\ninstant assumed anything different, and that they were as ready to\nfollow and obey me here as they would be upon the other side of thirty.\n\nSnider said nothing, but he wore a sullen scowl. And I wished then, as\nI had before, and as I did to a much greater extent later, that fate\nhad not decreed that he should have chanced to be a member of the\nlaunch's party upon that memorable day when last we quitted the\nColdwater.\n\nVictory, who was given a voice in our councils, was all for going to\nthe continent, or anywhere else, in fact, where she might see new\nsights and experience new adventures.\n\n\"Afterward we can come back to Grabritin,\" she said, \"and if Buckingham\nis not dead and we can catch him away from his men and kill him, then I\ncan return to my people, and we can all live in peace and happiness.\"\n\nShe spoke of killing Buckingham with no greater concern than one might\nevince in the contemplated destruction of a sheep; yet she was neither\ncruel nor vindictive. In fact, Victory is a very sweet and womanly\nwoman. But human life is of small account beyond thirty--a legacy from\nthe bloody days when thousands of men perished in the trenches between\nthe rising and the setting of a sun, when they laid them lengthwise in\nthese same trenches and sprinkled dirt over them, when the Germans\ncorded their corpses like wood and set fire to them, when women and\nchildren and old men were butchered, and great passenger ships were\ntorpedoed without warning.\n\nThirty-six, finally assured that we did not intend slaying him, was as\nkeen to accompany us as was Victory.\n\nThe crossing to the continent was uneventful, its monotony being\nrelieved, however, by the childish delight of Victory and Thirty-six in\nthe novel experience of riding safely upon the bosom of the water, and\nof being so far from land.\n\nWith the possible exception of Snider, the little party appeared in the\nbest of spirits, laughing and joking, or interestedly discussing the\npossibilities which the future held for us: what we should find upon\nthe continent, and whether the inhabitants would be civilized or\nbarbarian peoples.\n\nVictory asked me to explain the difference between the two, and when I\nhad tried to do so as clearly as possible, she broke into a gay little\nlaugh.\n\n\"Oh,\" she cried, \"then I am a barbarian!\"\n\nI could not but laugh, too, as I admitted that she was, indeed, a\nbarbarian. She was not offended, taking the matter as a huge joke.\nBut some time thereafter she sat in silence, apparently deep in\nthought. Finally she looked up at me, her strong white teeth gleaming\nbehind her smiling lips.\n\n\"Should you take that thing you call 'razor,'\" she said, \"and cut the\nhair from the face of Thirty-six, and exchange garments with him, you\nwould be the barbarian and Thirty-six the civilized man. There is no\nother difference between you, except your weapons. Clothe you in a\nwolfskin, give you a knife and a spear, and set you down in the woods\nof Grabritin--of what service would your civilization be to you?\"\n\nDelcarte and Taylor smiled at her reply, but Thirty-six and Snider\nlaughed uproariously. I was not surprised at Thirty-six, but I thought\nthat Snider laughed louder than the occasion warranted. As a matter of\nfact, Snider, it seemed to me, was taking advantage of every\nopportunity, however slight, to show insubordination, and I determined\nthen that at the first real breach of discipline I should take action\nthat would remind Snider, ever after, that I was still his commanding\nofficer.\n\nI could not help but notice that his eyes were much upon Victory, and I\ndid not like it, for I knew the type of man he was. But as it would\nnot be necessary ever to leave the girl alone with him I felt no\napprehension for her safety.\n\nAfter the incident of the discussion of barbarians I thought that\nVictory's manner toward me changed perceptibly. She held aloof from\nme, and when Snider took his turn at the wheel, sat beside him, upon\nthe pretext that she wished to learn how to steer the launch. I\nwondered if she had guessed the man's antipathy for me, and was seeking\nhis company solely for the purpose of piquing me.\n\nSnider was, too, taking full advantage of his opportunity. Often he\nleaned toward the girl to whisper in her ear, and he laughed much,\nwhich was unusual with Snider.\n\nOf course, it was nothing at all to me; yet, for some unaccountable\nreason, the sight of the two of them sitting there so close to one\nanother and seeming to be enjoying each other's society to such a\ndegree irritated me tremendously, and put me in such a bad humor that I\ntook no pleasure whatsoever in the last few hours of the crossing.\n\nWe aimed to land near the site of ancient Ostend. But when we neared\nthe coast we discovered no indication of any human habitations\nwhatever, let alone a city. After we had landed, we found the same\nhowling wilderness about us that we had discovered on the British Isle.\nThere was no slightest indication that civilized man had ever set a\nfoot upon that portion of the continent of Europe.\n\nAlthough I had feared as much, since our experience in England, I could\nnot but own to a feeling of marked disappointment, and to the gravest\nfears of the future, which induced a mental depression that was in no\nway dissipated by the continued familiarity between Victory and Snider.\n\nI was angry with myself that I permitted that matter to affect me as it\nhad. I did not wish to admit to myself that I was angry with this\nuncultured little savage, that it made the slightest difference to me\nwhat she did or what she did not do, or that I could so lower myself as\nto feel personal enmity towards a common sailor. And yet, to be\nhonest, I was doing both.\n\nFinding nothing to detain us about the spot where Ostend once had\nstood, we set out up the coast in search of the mouth of the River\nRhine, which I purposed ascending in search of civilized man. It was\nmy intention to explore the Rhine as far up as the launch would take\nus. If we found no civilization there we would return to the North\nSea, continue up the coast to the Elbe, and follow that river and the\ncanals of Berlin. Here, at least, I was sure that we should find what\nwe sought--and, if not, then all Europe had reverted to barbarism.\n\nThe weather remained fine, and we made excellent progress, but\neverywhere along the Rhine we met with the same disappointment--no sign\nof civilized man, in fact, no sign of man at all.\n\nI was not enjoying the exploration of modern Europe as I had\nanticipated--I was unhappy. Victory seemed changed, too. I had\nenjoyed her company at first, but since the trip across the Channel I\nhad held aloof from her.\n\nHer chin was in the air most of the time, and yet I rather think that\nshe regretted her friendliness with Snider, for I noticed that she\navoided him entirely. He, on the contrary, emboldened by her former\nfriendliness, sought every opportunity to be near her. I should have\nliked nothing better than a reasonably good excuse to punch his head;\nyet, paradoxically, I was ashamed of myself for harboring him any ill\nwill. I realized that there was something the matter with me, but I\ndid not know what it was.\n\nMatters remained thus for several days, and we continued our journey up\nthe Rhine. At Cologne, I had hoped to find some reassuring\nindications, but there was no Cologne. And as there had been no other\ncities along the river up to that point, the devastation was infinitely\ngreater than time alone could have wrought. Great guns, bombs, and\nmines must have leveled every building that man had raised, and then\nnature, unhindered, had covered the ghastly evidence of human depravity\nwith her beauteous mantle of verdure. Splendid trees reared their\nstately tops where splendid cathedrals once had reared their domes, and\nsweet wild flowers blossomed in simple serenity in soil that once was\ndrenched with human blood.\n\nNature had reclaimed what man had once stolen from her and defiled. A\nherd of zebras grazed where once the German kaiser may have reviewed\nhis troops. An antelope rested peacefully in a bed of daisies where,\nperhaps, two hundred years ago a big gun belched its terror-laden\nmessages of death, of hate, of destruction against the works of man and\nGod alike.\n\nWe were in need of fresh meat, yet I hesitated to shatter the quiet and\npeaceful serenity of the view with the crack of a rifle and the death\nof one of those beautiful creatures before us. But it had to be\ndone--we must eat. I left the work to Delcarte, however, and in a\nmoment we had two antelope and the landscape to ourselves.\n\nAfter eating, we boarded the launch and continued up the river. For\ntwo days we passed through a primeval wilderness. In the afternoon of\nthe second day we landed upon the west bank of the river, and, leaving\nSnider and Thirty-six to guard Victory and the launch, Delcarte,\nTaylor, and I set out after game.\n\nWe tramped away from the river for upwards of an hour before\ndiscovering anything, and then only a small red deer, which Taylor\nbrought down with a neat shot of two hundred yards. It was getting too\nlate to proceed farther, so we rigged a sling, and the two men carried\nthe deer back toward the launch while I walked a hundred yards ahead,\nin the hope of bagging something further for our larder.\n\nWe had covered about half the distance to the river, when I suddenly\ncame face to face with a man. He was as primitive and uncouth in\nappearance as the Grabritins--a shaggy, unkempt savage, clothed in a\nshirt of skin cured with the head on, the latter surmounting his own\nhead to form a bonnet, and giving to him a most fearful and ferocious\naspect.\n\nThe fellow was armed with a long spear and a club, the latter dangling\ndown his back from a leathern thong about his neck. His feet were\nincased in hide sandals.\n\nAt sight of me, he halted for an instant, then turned and dove into the\nforest, and, though I called reassuringly to him in English he did not\nreturn nor did I again see him.\n\nThe sight of the wild man raised my hopes once more that elsewhere we\nmight find men in a higher state of civilization--it was the society of\ncivilized man that I craved--and so, with a lighter heart, I continued\non toward the river and the launch.\n\nI was still some distance ahead of Delcarte and Taylor, when I came in\nsight of the Rhine again. But I came to the water's edge before I\nnoticed that anything was amiss with the party we had left there a few\nhours before.\n\nMy first intimation of disaster was the absence of the launch from its\nformer moorings. And then, a moment later--I discovered the body of a\nman lying upon the bank. Running toward it, I saw that it was\nThirty-six, and as I stopped and raised the Grabritin's head in my\narms, I heard a faint moan break from his lips. He was not dead, but\nthat he was badly injured was all too evident.\n\nDelcarte and Taylor came up a moment later, and the three of us worked\nover the fellow, hoping to revive him that he might tell us what had\nhappened, and what had become of the others. My first thought was\nprompted by the sight I had recently had of the savage native. The\nlittle party had evidently been surprised, and in the attack Thirty-six\nhad been wounded and the others taken prisoners. The thought was\nalmost like a physical blow in the face--it stunned me. Victory in the\nhands of these abysmal brutes! It was frightful. I almost shook poor\nThirty-six in my efforts to revive him.\n\nI explained my theory to the others, and then Delcarte shattered it by\na single movement of the hand. He drew aside the lion's skin that\ncovered half of the Grabritin's breast, revealing a neat, round hole in\nThirty-six's chest--a hole that could have been made by no other weapon\nthan a rifle.\n\n\"Snider!\" I exclaimed. Delcarte nodded. At about the same time the\neyelids of the wounded man fluttered, and raised. He looked up at us,\nand very slowly the light of consciousness returned to his eyes.\n\n\"What happened, Thirty-six?\" I asked him.\n\nHe tried to reply, but the effort caused him to cough, bringing about a\nhemorrhage of the lungs and again he fell back exhausted. For several\nlong minutes he lay as one dead, then in an almost inaudible whisper he\nspoke.\n\n\"Snider--\" He paused, tried to speak again, raised a hand, and pointed\ndown-river. \"They--went--back,\" and then he shuddered convulsively and\ndied.\n\nNone of us voiced his belief. But I think they were all alike: Victory\nand Snider had stolen the launch, and deserted us.\n\n\n\n7\n\n\nWe stood there, grouped about the body of the dead Grabritin, looking\nfutilely down the river to where it made an abrupt curve to the west, a\nquarter of a mile below us, and was lost to sight, as though we\nexpected to see the truant returning to us with our precious\nlaunch--the thing that meant life or death to us in this unfriendly,\nsavage world.\n\nI felt, rather than saw, Taylor turn his eyes slowly toward my profile,\nand, as mine swung to meet them, the expression upon his face recalled\nme to my duty and responsibility as an officer.\n\nThe utter hopelessness that was reflected in his face must have been\nthe counterpart of what I myself felt, but in that brief instant I\ndetermined to hide my own misgivings that I might bolster up the\ncourage of the others.\n\n\"We are lost!\" was written as plainly upon Taylor's face as though his\nfeatures were the printed words upon an open book. He was thinking of\nthe launch, and of the launch alone. Was I? I tried to think that I\nwas. But a greater grief than the loss of the launch could have\nengendered in me, filled my heart--a sullen, gnawing misery which I\ntried to deny--which I refused to admit--but which persisted in\nobsessing me until my heart rose and filled my throat, and I could not\nspeak when I would have uttered words of reassurance to my companions.\n\nAnd then rage came to my relief--rage against the vile traitor who had\ndeserted three of his fellow countrymen in so frightful a position. I\ntried to feel an equal rage against the woman, but somehow I could not,\nand kept searching for excuses for her--her youth, her inexperience,\nher savagery.\n\nMy rising anger swept away my temporary helplessness. I smiled, and\ntold Taylor not to look so glum.\n\n\"We will follow them,\" I said, \"and the chances are that we shall\novertake them. They will not travel as rapidly as Snider probably\nhopes. He will be forced to halt for fuel and for food, and the launch\nmust follow the windings of the river; we can take short cuts while\nthey are traversing the detour. I have my map--thank God! I always\ncarry it upon my person--and with that and the compass we will have an\nadvantage over them.\"\n\nMy words seemed to cheer them both, and they were for starting off at\nonce in pursuit. There was no reason why we should delay, and we set\nforth down the river. As we tramped along, we discussed a question\nthat was uppermost in the mind of each--what we should do with Snider\nwhen we had captured him, for with the action of pursuit had come the\noptimistic conviction that we should succeed. As a matter of fact, we\nhad to succeed. The very thought of remaining in this utter wilderness\nfor the rest of our lives was impossible.\n\nWe arrived at nothing very definite in the matter of Snider's\npunishment, since Taylor was for shooting him, Delcarte insisting that\nhe should be hanged, while I, although fully conscious of the gravity\nof his offense, could not bring myself to give the death penalty.\n\nI fell to wondering what charm Victory had found in such a man as\nSnider, and why I insisted upon finding excuses for her and trying to\ndefend her indefensible act. She was nothing to me. Aside from the\nnatural gratitude I felt for her since she had saved my life, I owed\nher nothing. She was a half-naked little savage--I, a gentleman, and\nan officer in the world's greatest navy. There could be no close bonds\nof interest between us.\n\nThis line of reflection I discovered to be as distressing as the\nformer, but, though I tried to turn my mind to other things, it\npersisted in returning to the vision of an oval face, sun-tanned; of\nsmiling lips, revealing white and even teeth; of brave eyes that\nharbored no shadow of guile; and of a tumbling mass of wavy hair that\ncrowned the loveliest picture on which my eyes had ever rested.\n\nEvery time this vision presented itself I felt myself turn cold with\nrage and hate against Snider. I could forgive the launch, but if he\nhad wronged her he should die--he should die at my own hands; in this I\nwas determined.\n\nFor two days we followed the river northward, cutting off where we\ncould, but confined for the most part to the game trails that\nparalleled the stream. One afternoon, we cut across a narrow neck of\nland that saved us many miles, where the river wound to the west and\nback again.\n\nHere we decided to halt, for we had had a hard day of it, and, if the\ntruth were known, I think that we had all given up hope of overtaking\nthe launch other than by the merest accident.\n\nWe had shot a deer just before our halt, and, as Taylor and Delcarte\nwere preparing it, I walked down to the water to fill our canteens. I\nhad just finished, and was straightening up, when something floating\naround a bend above me caught my eye. For a moment I could not believe\nthe testimony of my own senses. It was a boat.\n\nI shouted to Delcarte and Taylor, who came running to my side.\n\n\"The launch!\" cried Delcarte; and, indeed, it was the launch, floating\ndown-river from above us. Where had it been? How had we passed it?\nAnd how were we to reach it now, should Snider and the girl discover us?\n\n\"It's drifting,\" said Taylor. \"I see no one in it.\"\n\nI was stripping off my clothes, and Delcarte soon followed my example.\nI told Taylor to remain on shore with the clothing and rifles. He\nmight also serve us better there, since it would give him an\nopportunity to take a shot at Snider should the man discover us and\nshow himself.\n\nWith powerful strokes we swam out in the path of the oncoming launch.\nBeing a stronger swimmer than Delcarte, I soon was far in the lead,\nreaching the center of the channel just as the launch bore down upon\nme. It was drifting broadside on. I seized the gunwale and raised\nmyself quickly, so that my chin topped the side. I expected a blow the\nmoment that I came within the view of the occupants, but no blow fell.\n\nSnider lay upon his back in the bottom of the boat alone. Even before\nI had clambered in and stooped above him I knew that he was dead.\nWithout examining him further, I ran forward to the control board and\npressed the starting button. To my relief, the mechanism\nresponded--the launch was uninjured. Coming about, I picked up\nDelcarte. He was astounded at the sight that met his eyes, and\nimmediately fell to examining Snider's body for signs of life or an\nexplanation of the manner in which he met his death.\n\nThe fellow had been dead for hours--he was cold and still. But\nDelcarte's search was not without results, for above Snider's heart was\na wound, a slit about an inch in length--such a slit as a sharp knife\nwould make, and in the dead fingers of one hand was clutched a strand\nof long brown hair--Victory's hair was brown.\n\nThey say that dead men tell no tales, but Snider told the story of his\nend as clearly as though the dead lips had parted and poured forth the\ntruth. The beast had attacked the girl, and she had defended her honor.\n\nWe buried Snider beside the Rhine, and no stone marks his last resting\nplace. Beasts do not require headstones.\n\nThen we set out in the launch, turning her nose upstream. When I had\ntold Delcarte and Taylor that I intended searching for the girl,\nneither had demurred.\n\n\"We had her wrong in our thoughts,\" said Delcarte, \"and the least that\nwe can do in expiation is to find and rescue her.\"\n\nWe called her name aloud every few minutes as we motored up the river,\nbut, though we returned all the way to our former camping place, we did\nnot find her. I then decided to retrace our journey, letting Taylor\nhandle the launch, while Delcarte and I, upon opposite sides of the\nriver, searched for some sign of the spot where Victory had landed.\n\nWe found nothing until we had reached a point a few miles above the\nspot where I had first seen the launch drifting down toward us, and\nthere I discovered the remnants of a recent camp fire.\n\nThat Victory carried flint and steel I was aware, and that it was she\nwho built the fire I was positive. But which way had she gone since\nshe stopped here?\n\nWould she go on down the river, that she might thus bring herself\nnearer her own Grabritin, or would she have sought to search for us\nupstream, where she had seen us last?\n\nI had hailed Taylor, and sent him across the river to take in Delcarte,\nthat the two might join me and discuss my discovery and our future\nplans.\n\nWhile waiting for them, I stood looking out over the river, my back\ntoward the woods that stretched away to the east behind me. Delcarte\nwas just stepping into the launch upon the opposite side of the stream,\nwhen, without the least warning, I was violently seized by both arms\nand about the waist--three or four men were upon me at once; my rifle\nwas snatched from my hands and my revolver from my belt.\n\nI struggled for an instant, but finding my efforts of no avail, I\nceased them, and turned my head to have a look at my assailants. At\nthe same time several others of them walked around in front of me, and,\nto my astonishment, I found myself looking upon uniformed soldiery,\narmed with rifles, revolvers, and sabers, but with faces as black as\ncoal.\n\n\n\n8\n\n\nDelcarte and Taylor were now in mid-stream, coming toward us, and I\ncalled to them to keep aloof until I knew whether the intentions of my\ncaptors were friendly or otherwise. My good men wanted to come on and\nannihilate the blacks. But there were upward of a hundred of the\nlatter, all well armed, and so I commanded Delcarte to keep out of\nharm's way, and stay where he was till I needed him.\n\nA young officer called and beckoned to them. But they refused to come,\nand so he gave orders that resulted in my hands being secured at my\nback, after which the company marched away, straight toward the east.\n\nI noticed that the men wore spurs, which seemed strange to me. But\nwhen, late in the afternoon, we arrived at their encampment, I\ndiscovered that my captors were cavalrymen.\n\nIn the center of a plain stood a log fort, with a blockhouse at each of\nits four corners. As we approached, I saw a herd of cavalry horses\ngrazing under guard outside the walls of the post. They were small,\nstocky horses, but the telltale saddle galls proclaimed their calling.\nThe flag flying from a tall staff inside the palisade was one which I\nhad never before seen nor heard of.\n\nWe marched directly into the compound, where the company was dismissed,\nwith the exception of a guard of four privates, who escorted me in the\nwake of the young officer. The latter led us across a small parade\nground, where a battery of light field guns was parked, and toward a\nlog building, in front of which rose the flagstaff.\n\nI was escorted within the building into the presence of an old negro, a\nfine looking man, with a dignified and military bearing. He was a\ncolonel, I was to learn later, and to him I owe the very humane\ntreatment that was accorded me while I remained his prisoner.\n\nHe listened to the report of his junior, and then turned to question\nme, but with no better results than the former had accomplished. Then\nhe summoned an orderly, and gave some instructions. The soldier\nsaluted, and left the room, returning in about five minutes with a\nhairy old white man--just such a savage, primeval-looking fellow as I\nhad discovered in the woods the day that Snider had disappeared with\nthe launch.\n\nThe colonel evidently expected to use the fellow as interpreter, but\nwhen the savage addressed me it was in a language as foreign to me as\nwas that of the blacks. At last the old officer gave it up, and,\nshaking his head, gave instructions for my removal.\n\nFrom his office I was led to a guardhouse, in which I found about fifty\nhalf-naked whites, clad in the skins of wild beasts. I tried to\nconverse with them, but not one of them could understand Pan-American,\nnor could I make head or tail of their jargon.\n\nFor over a month I remained a prisoner there, working from morning\nuntil night at odd jobs about the headquarters building of the\ncommanding officer. The other prisoners worked harder than I did, and\nI owe my better treatment solely to the kindliness and discrimination\nof the old colonel.\n\nWhat had become of Victory, of Delcarte, of Taylor I could not know;\nnor did it seem likely that I should ever learn. I was most depressed.\nBut I whiled away my time in performing the duties given me to the best\nof my ability and attempting to learn the language of my captors.\n\nWho they were or where they came from was a mystery to me. That they\nwere the outpost of some powerful black nation seemed likely, yet where\nthe seat of that nation lay I could not guess.\n\nThey looked upon the whites as their inferiors, and treated us\naccordingly. They had a literature of their own, and many of the men,\neven the common soldiers, were omnivorous readers. Every two weeks a\ndust-covered trooper would trot his jaded mount into the post and\ndeliver a bulging sack of mail at headquarters. The next day he would\nbe away again upon a fresh horse toward the south, carrying the\nsoldiers' letters to friends in the far off land of mystery from whence\nthey all had come.\n\nTroops, sometimes mounted and sometimes afoot, left the post daily for\nwhat I assumed to be patrol duty. I judged the little force of a\nthousand men were detailed here to maintain the authority of a distant\ngovernment in a conquered country. Later, I learned that my surmise\nwas correct, and this was but one of a great chain of similar posts\nthat dotted the new frontier of the black nation into whose hands I had\nfallen.\n\nSlowly I learned their tongue, so that I could understand what was said\nbefore me, and make myself understood. I had seen from the first that\nI was being treated as a slave--that all whites that fell into the\nhands of the blacks were thus treated.\n\nAlmost daily new prisoners were brought in, and about three weeks after\nI was brought in to the post a troop of cavalry came from the south to\nrelieve one of the troops stationed there. There was great jubilation\nin the encampment after the arrival of the newcomers, old friendships\nwere renewed and new ones made. But the happiest men were those of the\ntroop that was to be relieved.\n\nThe next morning they started away, and as they were forced upon the\nparade ground we prisoners were marched from our quarters and lined up\nbefore them. A couple of long chains were brought, with rings in the\nlinks every few feet. At first I could not guess the purpose of these\nchains. But I was soon to learn.\n\nA couple of soldiers snapped the first ring around the neck of a\npowerful white slave, and one by one the rest of us were herded to our\nplaces, and the work of shackling us neck to neck commenced.\n\nThe colonel stood watching the procedure. Presently his eyes fell upon\nme, and he spoke to a young officer at his side. The latter stepped\ntoward me and motioned me to follow him. I did so, and was led back to\nthe colonel.\n\nBy this time I could understand a few words of their strange language,\nand when the colonel asked me if I would prefer to remain at the post\nas his body servant, I signified my willingness as emphatically as\npossible, for I had seen enough of the brutality of the common soldiers\ntoward their white slaves to have no desire to start out upon a march\nof unknown length, chained by the neck, and driven on by the great\nwhips that a score of the soldiers carried to accelerate the speed of\ntheir charges.\n\nAbout three hundred prisoners who had been housed in six prisons at the\npost marched out of the gates that morning, toward what fate and what\nfuture I could not guess. Neither had the poor devils themselves more\nthan the most vague conception of what lay in store for them, except\nthat they were going elsewhere to continue in the slavery that they had\nknown since their capture by their black conquerors--a slavery that was\nto continue until death released them.\n\nMy position was altered at the post. From working about the\nheadquarters office, I was transferred to the colonel's living\nquarters. I had greater freedom, and no longer slept in one of the\nprisons, but had a little room to myself off the kitchen of the\ncolonel's log house.\n\nMy master was always kind to me, and under him I rapidly learned the\nlanguage of my captors, and much concerning them that had been a\nmystery to me before. His name was Abu Belik. He was a colonel in the\ncavalry of Abyssinia, a country of which I do not remember ever\nhearing, but which Colonel Belik assured me is the oldest civilized\ncountry in the world.\n\nColonel Belik was born in Adis Abeba, the capital of the empire, and\nuntil recently had been in command of the emperor's palace guard.\nJealousy and the ambition and intrigue of another officer had lost him\nthe favor of his emperor, and he had been detailed to this frontier\npost as a mark of his sovereign's displeasure.\n\nSome fifty years before, the young emperor, Menelek XIV, was ambitious.\nHe knew that a great world lay across the waters far to the north of\nhis capital. Once he had crossed the desert and looked out upon the\nblue sea that was the northern boundary of his dominions.\n\nThere lay another world to conquer. Menelek busied himself with the\nbuilding of a great fleet, though his people were not a maritime race.\nHis army crossed into Europe. It met with little resistance, and for\nfifty years his soldiers had been pushing his boundaries farther and\nfarther toward the north.\n\n\"The yellow men from the east and north are contesting our rights here\nnow,\" said the colonel, \"but we shall win--we shall conquer the world,\ncarrying Christianity to all the benighted heathen of Europe, and Asia\nas well.\"\n\n\"You are a Christian people?\" I asked.\n\nHe looked at me in surprise, nodding his head affirmatively.\n\n\"I am a Christian,\" I said. \"My people are the most powerful on earth.\"\n\nHe smiled, and shook his head indulgently, as a father to a child who\nsets up his childish judgment against that of his elders.\n\nThen I set out to prove my point. I told him of our cities, of our\narmy, of our great navy. He came right back at me asking for figures,\nand when he was done I had to admit that only in our navy were we\nnumerically superior.\n\nMenelek XIV is the undisputed ruler of all the continent of Africa, of\nall of ancient Europe except the British Isles, Scandinavia, and\neastern Russia, and has large possessions and prosperous colonies in\nwhat once were Arabia and Turkey in Asia.\n\nHe has a standing army of ten million men, and his people possess\nslaves--white slaves--to the number of ten or fifteen million.\n\nColonel Belik was much surprised, however, upon his part to learn of\nthe great nation which lay across the ocean, and when he found that I\nwas a naval officer, he was inclined to accord me even greater\nconsideration than formerly. It was difficult for him to believe my\nassertion that there were but few blacks in my country, and that these\noccupied a lower social plane than the whites.\n\nJust the reverse is true in Colonel Belik's land. He considered whites\ninferior beings, creatures of a lower order, and assuring me that even\nthe few white freemen of Abyssinia were never accorded anything\napproximating a position of social equality with the blacks. They live\nin the poorer districts of the cities, in little white colonies, and a\nblack who marries a white is socially ostracized.\n\nThe arms and ammunition of the Abyssinians are greatly inferior to\nours, yet they are tremendously effective against the ill-armed\nbarbarians of Europe. Their rifles are of a type similar to the\nmagazine rifles of twentieth century Pan-America, but carrying only\nfive cartridges in the magazine, in addition to the one in the chamber.\nThey are of extraordinary length, even those of the cavalry, and are of\nextreme accuracy.\n\nThe Abyssinians themselves are a fine looking race of black men--tall,\nmuscular, with fine teeth, and regular features, which incline\ndistinctly toward Semitic mold--I refer to the full-blooded natives of\nAbyssinia. They are the patricians--the aristocracy. The army is\nofficered almost exclusively by them. Among the soldiery a lower type\nof negro predominates, with thicker lips and broader, flatter noses.\nThese men are recruited, so the colonel told me, from among the\nconquered tribes of Africa. They are good soldiers--brave and loyal.\nThey can read and write, and they are endowed with a self-confidence\nand pride which, from my readings of the words of ancient African\nexplorers, must have been wanting in their earliest progenitors. On\nthe whole, it is apparent that the black race has thrived far better in\nthe past two centuries under men of its own color than it had under the\ndomination of whites during all previous history.\n\nI had been a prisoner at the little frontier post for over a month,\nwhen orders came to Colonel Belik to hasten to the eastern frontier\nwith the major portion of his command, leaving only one troop to\ngarrison the fort. As his body servant, I accompanied him mounted upon\na fiery little Abyssinian pony.\n\nWe marched rapidly for ten days through the heart of the ancient German\nempire, halting when night found us in proximity to water. Often we\npassed small posts similar to that at which the colonel's regiment had\nbeen quartered, finding in each instance that only a single company or\ntroop remained for defence, the balance having been withdrawn toward\nthe northeast, in the same direction in which we were moving.\n\nNaturally, the colonel had not confided to me the nature of his orders.\nBut the rapidity of our march and the fact that all available troops\nwere being hastened toward the northeast assured me that a matter of\nvital importance to the dominion of Menelek XIV in that part of Europe\nwas threatening or had already broken.\n\nI could not believe that a simple rising of the savage tribes of whites\nwould necessitate the mobilizing of such a force as we presently met\nwith converging from the south into our trail. There were large bodies\nof cavalry and infantry, endless streams of artillery wagons and guns,\nand countless horse-drawn covered vehicles laden with camp equipage,\nmunitions, and provisions.\n\nHere, for the first time, I saw camels, great caravans of them, bearing\nall sorts of heavy burdens, and miles upon miles of elephants doing\nsimilar service. It was a scene of wondrous and barbaric splendor, for\nthe men and beasts from the south were gaily caparisoned in rich\ncolors, in marked contrast to the gray uniformed forces of the\nfrontier, with which I had been familiar.\n\nThe rumor reached us that Menelek himself was coming, and the pitch of\nexcitement to which this announcement raised the troops was little\nshort of miraculous--at least, to one of my race and nationality whose\nrulers for centuries had been but ordinary men, holding office at the\nwill of the people for a few brief years.\n\nAs I witnessed it, I could not but speculate upon the moral effect upon\nhis troops of a sovereign's presence in the midst of battle. All else\nbeing equal in war between the troops of a republic and an empire,\ncould not this exhilarated mental state, amounting almost to hysteria\non the part of the imperial troops, weigh heavily against the soldiers\nof a president? I wonder.\n\nBut if the emperor chanced to be absent? What then? Again I wonder.\n\nOn the eleventh day we reached our destination--a walled frontier city\nof about twenty thousand. We passed some lakes, and crossed some old\ncanals before entering the gates. Within, beside the frame buildings,\nwere many built of ancient brick and well-cut stone. These, I was\ntold, were of material taken from the ruins of the ancient city which,\nonce, had stood upon the site of the present town.\n\nThe name of the town, translated from the Abyssinian, is New Gondar.\nIt stands, I am convinced, upon the ruins of ancient Berlin, the one\ntime capital of the old German empire, but except for the old building\nmaterial used in the new town there is no sign of the former city.\n\nThe day after we arrived, the town was gaily decorated with flags,\nstreamers, gorgeous rugs, and banners, for the rumor had proved\ntrue--the emperor was coming.\n\nColonel Belik had accorded me the greatest liberty, permitting me to go\nwhere I pleased, after my few duties had been performed. As a result\nof his kindness, I spent much time wandering about New Gondar, talking\nwith the inhabitants, and exploring the city of black men.\n\nAs I had been given a semi-military uniform which bore insignia\nindicating that I was an officer's body servant, even the blacks\ntreated me with a species of respect, though I could see by their\nmanner that I was really as the dirt beneath their feet. They answered\nmy questions civilly enough, but they would not enter into conversation\nwith me. It was from other slaves that I learned the gossip of the\ncity.\n\nTroops were pouring in from the west and south, and pouring out toward\nthe east. I asked an old slave who was sweeping the dirt into little\npiles in the gutters of the street where the soldiers were going. He\nlooked at me in surprise.\n\n\"Why, to fight the yellow men, of course,\" he said. \"They have crossed\nthe border, and are marching toward New Gondar.\"\n\n\"Who will win?\" I asked.\n\nHe shrugged his shoulders. \"Who knows?\" he said. \"I hope it will be\nthe yellow men, but Menelek is powerful--it will take many yellow men\nto defeat him.\"\n\nCrowds were gathering along the sidewalks to view the emperor's entry\ninto the city. I took my place among them, although I hate crowds, and\nI am glad that I did, for I witnessed such a spectacle of barbaric\nsplendor as no other Pan-American has ever looked upon.\n\nDown the broad main thoroughfare, which may once have been the historic\nUnter den Linden, came a brilliant cortege. At the head rode a\nregiment of red-coated hussars--enormous men, black as night. There\nwere troops of riflemen mounted on camels. The emperor rode in a\ngolden howdah upon the back of a huge elephant so covered with rich\nhangings and embellished with scintillating gems that scarce more than\nthe beast's eyes and feet were visible.\n\nMenelek was a rather gross-looking man, well past middle age, but he\ncarried himself with an air of dignity befitting one descended in\nunbroken line from the Prophet--as was his claim.\n\nHis eyes were bright but crafty, and his features denoted both\nsensuality and cruelness. In his youth he may have been a rather fine\nlooking black, but when I saw him his appearance was revolting--to me,\nat least.\n\nFollowing the emperor came regiment after regiment from the various\nbranches of the service, among them batteries of field guns mounted on\nelephants.\n\nIn the center of the troops following the imperial elephant marched a\ngreat caravan of slaves. The old street sweeper at my elbow told me\nthat these were the gifts brought in from the far outlying districts by\nthe commanding officers of the frontier posts. The majority of them\nwere women, destined, I was told, for the harems of the emperor and his\nfavorites. It made my old companion clench his fists to see those poor\nwhite women marching past to their horrid fates, and, though I shared\nhis sentiments, I was as powerless to alter their destinies as he.\n\nFor a week the troops kept pouring in and out of New Gondar--in,\nalways, from the south and west, but always toward the east. Each new\ncontingent brought its gifts to the emperor. From the south they\nbrought rugs and ornaments and jewels; from the west, slaves; for the\ncommanding officers of the western frontier posts had naught else to\nbring.\n\nFrom the number of women they brought, I judged that they knew the\nweakness of their imperial master.\n\nAnd then soldiers commenced coming in from the east, but not with the\ngay assurance of those who came from the south and west--no, these\nothers came in covered wagons, blood-soaked and suffering. They came\nat first in little parties of eight or ten, and then they came in\nfifties, in hundreds, and one day a thousand maimed and dying men were\ncarted into New Gondar.\n\nIt was then that Menelek XIV became uneasy. For fifty years his armies\nhad conquered wherever they had marched. At first he had led them in\nperson, lately his presence within a hundred miles of the battle line\nhad been sufficient for large engagements--for minor ones only the\nknowledge that they were fighting for the glory of their sovereign was\nnecessary to win victories.\n\nOne morning, New Gondar was awakened by the booming of cannon. It was\nthe first intimation that the townspeople had received that the enemy\nwas forcing the imperial troops back upon the city. Dust covered\ncouriers galloped in from the front. Fresh troops hastened from the\ncity, and about noon Menelek rode out surrounded by his staff.\n\nFor three days thereafter we could hear the cannonading and the\nspitting of the small arms, for the battle line was scarce two leagues\nfrom New Gondar. The city was filled with wounded. Just outside,\nsoldiers were engaged in throwing up earthworks. It was evident to the\nleast enlightened that Menelek expected further reverses.\n\nAnd then the imperial troops fell back upon these new defenses, or,\nrather, they were forced back by the enemy. Shells commenced to fall\nwithin the city. Menelek returned and took up his headquarters in the\nstone building that was called the palace. That night came a lull in\nthe hostilities--a truce had been arranged.\n\nColonel Belik summoned me about seven o'clock to dress him for a\nfunction at the palace. In the midst of death and defeat the emperor\nwas about to give a great banquet to his officers. I was to accompany\nmy master and wait upon him--I, Jefferson Turck, lieutenant in the\nPan-American navy!\n\nIn the privacy of the colonel's quarters I had become accustomed to my\nmenial duties, lightened as they were by the natural kindliness of my\nmaster, but the thought of appearing in public as a common slave\nrevolted every fine instinct within me. Yet there was nothing for it\nbut to obey.\n\nI cannot, even now, bring myself to a narration of the humiliation\nwhich I experienced that night as I stood behind my black master in\nsilent servility, now pouring his wine, now cutting up his meats for\nhim, now fanning him with a large, plumed fan of feathers.\n\nAs fond as I had grown of him, I could have thrust a knife into him, so\nkeenly did I feel the affront that had been put upon me. But at last\nthe long banquet was concluded. The tables were removed. The emperor\nascended a dais at one end of the room and seated himself upon a\nthrone, and the entertainment commenced. It was only what ancient\nhistory might have led me to expect--musicians, dancing girls,\njugglers, and the like.\n\nNear midnight, the master of ceremonies announced that the slave women\nwho had been presented to the emperor since his arrival in New Gondar\nwould be exhibited, that the royal host would select such as he wished,\nafter which he would present the balance of them to his guests. Ah,\nwhat royal generosity!\n\nA small door at one side of the room opened, and the poor creatures\nfiled in and were ranged in a long line before the throne. Their backs\nwere toward me. I saw only an occasional profile as now and then a\nbolder spirit among them turned to survey the apartment and the\ngorgeous assemblage of officers in their brilliant dress uniforms.\nThey were profiles of young girls, and pretty, but horror was indelibly\nstamped upon them all. I shuddered as I contemplated their sad fate,\nand turned my eyes away.\n\nI heard the master of ceremonies command them to prostrate themselves\nbefore the emperor, and the sounds as they went upon their knees before\nhim, touching their foreheads to the floor. Then came the official's\nvoice again, in sharp and peremptory command.\n\n\"Down, slave!\" he cried. \"Make obeisance to your sovereign!\"\n\nI looked up, attracted by the tone of the man's voice, to see a single,\nstraight, slim figure standing erect in the center of the line of\nprostrate girls, her arms folded across her breast and little chin in\nthe air. Her back was toward me--I could not see her face, though I\nshould like to see the countenance of this savage young lioness,\nstanding there defiant among that herd of terrified sheep.\n\n\"Down! Down!\" shouted the master of ceremonies, taking a step toward\nher and half drawing his sword.\n\nMy blood boiled. To stand there, inactive, while a negro struck down\nthat brave girl of my own race! Instinctively I took a forward step to\nplace myself in the man's path. But at the same instant Menelek raised\nhis hand in a gesture that halted the officer. The emperor seemed\ninterested, but in no way angered at the girl's attitude.\n\n\"Let us inquire,\" he said in a smooth, pleasant voice, \"why this young\nwoman refuses to do homage to her sovereign,\" and he put the question\nhimself directly to her.\n\nShe answered him in Abyssinian, but brokenly and with an accent that\nbetrayed how recently she had acquired her slight knowledge of the\ntongue.\n\n\"I go on my knees to no one,\" she said. \"I have no sovereign. I\nmyself am sovereign in my own country.\"\n\nMenelek, at her words, leaned back in his throne and laughed\nuproariously. Following his example, which seemed always the correct\nprocedure, the assembled guests vied with one another in an effort to\nlaugh more noisily than the emperor.\n\nThe girl but tilted her chin a bit higher in the air--even her back\nproclaimed her utter contempt for her captors. Finally Menelek\nrestored quiet by the simple expedient of a frown, whereupon each loyal\nguest exchanged his mirthful mien for an emulative scowl.\n\n\"And who,\" asked Menelek, \"are you, and by what name is your country\ncalled?\"\n\n\"I am Victory, Queen of Grabritin,\" replied the girl so quickly and so\nunexpectedly that I gasped in astonishment.\n\n\n\n9\n\n\nVictory! She was here, a slave to these black conquerors. Once more I\nstarted toward her, but better judgment held me back--I could do\nnothing to help her other than by stealth. Could I even accomplish\naught by this means? I did not know. It seemed beyond the pale of\npossibility, and yet I should try.\n\n\"And you will not bend the knee to me?\" continued Menelek, after she\nhad spoken. Victory shook her head in a most decided negation.\n\n\"You shall be my first choice, then,\" said the emperor. \"I like your\nspirit, for the breaking of it will add to my pleasure in you, and\nnever fear but that it shall be broken--this very night. Take her to\nmy apartments,\" and he motioned to an officer at his side.\n\nI was surprised to see Victory follow the man off in apparent quiet\nsubmission. I tried to follow, that I might be near her against some\nopportunity to speak with her or assist in her escape. But, after I\nhad followed them from the throne room, through several other\napartments, and down a long corridor, I found my further progress\nbarred by a soldier who stood guard before a doorway through which the\nofficer conducted Victory.\n\nAlmost immediately the officer reappeared and started back in the\ndirection of the throne room. I had been hiding in a doorway after the\nguard had turned me back, having taken refuge there while his back was\nturned, and, as the officer approached me, I withdrew into the room\nbeyond, which was in darkness. There I remained for a long time,\nwatching the sentry before the door of the room in which Victory was a\nprisoner, and awaiting some favorable circumstance which would give me\nentry to her.\n\nI have not attempted to fully describe my sensations at the moment I\nrecognized Victory, because, I can assure you, they were entirely\nindescribable. I should never have imagined that the sight of any\nhuman being could affect me as had this unexpected discovery of Victory\nin the same room in which I was, while I had thought of her for weeks\neither as dead, or at best hundreds of miles to the west, and as\nirretrievably lost to me as though she were, in truth, dead.\n\nI was filled with a strange, mad impulse to be near her. It was not\nenough merely to assist her, or protect her--I desired to touch her--to\ntake her in my arms. I was astounded at myself. Another thing puzzled\nme--it was my incomprehensible feeling of elation since I had again\nseen her. With a fate worse than death staring her in the face, and\nwith the knowledge that I should probably die defending her within the\nhour, I was still happier than I had been for weeks--and all because I\nhad seen again for a few brief minutes the figure of a little heathen\nmaiden. I couldn't account for it, and it angered me; I had never\nbefore felt any such sensations in the presence of a woman, and I had\nmade love to some very beautiful ones in my time.\n\nIt seemed ages that I stood in the shadow of that doorway, in the\nill-lit corridor of the palace of Menelek XIV. A sickly gas jet cast a\nsad pallor upon the black face of the sentry. The fellow seemed rooted\nto the spot. Evidently he would never leave, or turn his back again.\n\nI had been in hiding but a short time when I heard the sound of distant\ncannon. The truce had ended, and the battle had been resumed. Very\nshortly thereafter the earth shook to the explosion of a shell within\nthe city, and from time to time thereafter other shells burst at no\ngreat distance from the palace. The yellow men were bombarding New\nGondar again.\n\nPresently officers and slaves commenced to traverse the corridor on\nmatters pertaining to their duties, and then came the emperor, scowling\nand wrathful. He was followed by a few personal attendants, whom he\ndismissed at the doorway to his apartments--the same doorway through\nwhich Victory had been taken. I chafed to follow him, but the corridor\nwas filled with people. At last they betook themselves to their own\napartments, which lay upon either side of the corridor.\n\nAn officer and a slave entered the very room in which I hid, forcing me\nto flatten myself to one side in the darkness until they had passed.\nThen the slave made a light, and I knew that I must find another hiding\nplace.\n\nStepping boldly into the corridor, I saw that it was now empty save for\nthe single sentry before the emperor's door. He glanced up as I\nemerged from the room, the occupants of which had not seen me. I\nwalked straight toward the soldier, my mind made up in an instant. I\ntried to simulate an expression of cringing servility, and I must have\nsucceeded, for I entirely threw the man off his guard, so that he\npermitted me to approach within reach of his rifle before stopping me.\nThen it was too late--for him.\n\nWithout a word or a warning, I snatched the piece from his grasp, and,\nat the same time struck him a terrific blow between the eyes with my\nclenched fist. He staggered back in surprise, too dumbfounded even to\ncry out, and then I clubbed his rifle and felled him with a single\nmighty blow.\n\nA moment later, I had burst into the room beyond. It was empty!\n\nI gazed about, mad with disappointment. Two doors opened from this to\nother rooms. I ran to the nearer and listened. Yes, voices were\ncoming from beyond and one was a woman's, level and cold and filled\nwith scorn. There was no terror in it. It was Victory's.\n\nI turned the knob and pushed the door inward just in time to see\nMenelek seize the girl and drag her toward the far end of the\napartment. At the same instant there was a deafening roar just outside\nthe palace--a shell had struck much nearer than any of its\npredecessors. The noise of it drowned my rapid rush across the room.\n\nBut in her struggles, Victory turned Menelek about so that he saw me.\nShe was striking him in the face with her clenched fist, and now he was\nchoking her.\n\nAt sight of me, he gave voice to a roar of anger.\n\n\"What means this, slave?\" he cried. \"Out of here! Out of here! Quick,\nbefore I kill you!\"\n\nBut for answer I rushed upon him, striking him with the butt of the\nrifle. He staggered back, dropping Victory to the floor, and then he\ncried aloud for the guard, and came at me. Again and again I struck\nhim; but his thick skull might have been armor plate, for all the\ndamage I did it.\n\nHe tried to close with me, seizing the rifle, but I was stronger than\nhe, and, wrenching the weapon from his grasp, tossed it aside and made\nfor his throat with my bare hands. I had not dared fire the weapon for\nfear that its report would bring the larger guard stationed at the\nfarther end of the corridor.\n\nWe struggled about the room, striking one another, knocking over\nfurniture, and rolling upon the floor. Menelek was a powerful man, and\nhe was fighting for his life. Continually he kept calling for the\nguard, until I succeeded in getting a grip upon his throat; but it was\ntoo late. His cries had been heard, and suddenly the door burst open,\nand a score of armed guardsmen rushed into the apartment.\n\nVictory seized the rifle from the floor and leaped between me and them.\nI had the black emperor upon his back, and both my hands were at his\nthroat, choking the life from him.\n\nThe rest happened in the fraction of a second. There was a rending\ncrash above us, then a deafening explosion within the chamber. Smoke\nand powder fumes filled the room. Half stunned, I rose from the\nlifeless body of my antagonist just in time to see Victory stagger to\nher feet and turn toward me. Slowly the smoke cleared to reveal the\nshattered remnants of the guard. A shell had fallen through the palace\nroof and exploded just in the rear of the detachment of guardsmen who\nwere coming to the rescue of their emperor. Why neither Victory nor I\nwere struck is a miracle. The room was a wreck. A great, jagged hole\nwas torn in the ceiling, and the wall toward the corridor had been\nblown entirely out.\n\nAs I rose, Victory had risen, too, and started toward me. But when she\nsaw that I was uninjured she stopped, and stood there in the center of\nthe demolished apartment looking at me. Her expression was\ninscrutable--I could not guess whether she was glad to see me, or not.\n\n\"Victory!\" I cried. \"Thank God that you are safe!\" And I approached\nher, a greater gladness in my heart than I had felt since the moment\nthat I knew the Coldwater must be swept beyond thirty.\n\nThere was no answering gladness in her eyes. Instead, she stamped her\nlittle foot in anger.\n\n\"Why did it have to be you who saved me!\" she exclaimed. \"I hate you!\"\n\n\"Hate me?\" I asked. \"Why should you hate me, Victory? I do not hate\nyou. I--I--\" What was I about to say? I was very close to her as a\ngreat light broke over me. Why had I never realized it before? The\ntruth accounted for a great many hitherto inexplicable moods that had\nclaimed me from time to time since first I had seen Victory.\n\n\"Why should I hate you?\" she repeated. \"Because Snider told me--he\ntold me that you had promised me to him, but he did not get me. I\nkilled him, as I should like to kill you!\"\n\n\"Snider lied!\" I cried. And then I seized her and held her in my arms,\nand made her listen to me, though she struggled and fought like a young\nlioness. \"I love you, Victory. You must know that I love you--that I\nhave always loved you, and that I never could have made so base a\npromise.\"\n\nShe ceased her struggles, just a trifle, but still tried to push me\nfrom her. \"You called me a barbarian!\" she said.\n\nAh, so that was it! That still rankled. I crushed her to me.\n\n\"You could not love a barbarian,\" she went on, but she had ceased to\nstruggle.\n\n\"But I do love a barbarian, Victory!\" I cried, \"the dearest barbarian\nin the world.\"\n\nShe raised her eyes to mine, and then her smooth, brown arms encircled\nmy neck and drew my lips down to hers.\n\n\"I love you--I have loved you always!\" she said, and then she buried\nher face upon my shoulder and sobbed. \"I have been so unhappy,\" she\nsaid, \"but I could not die while I thought that you might live.\"\n\nAs we stood there, momentarily forgetful of all else than our new found\nhappiness, the ferocity of the bombardment increased until scarce\nthirty seconds elapsed between the shells that rained about the palace.\n\nTo remain long would be to invite certain death. We could not escape\nthe way that we had entered the apartment, for not only was the\ncorridor now choked with debris, but beyond the corridor there were\ndoubtless many members of the emperor's household who would stop us.\n\nUpon the opposite side of the room was another door, and toward this I\nled the way. It opened into a third apartment with windows overlooking\nan inner court. From one of these windows I surveyed the courtyard.\nApparently it was empty, and the rooms upon the opposite side were\nunlighted.\n\nAssisting Victory to the open, I followed, and together we crossed the\ncourt, discovering upon the opposite side a number of wide, wooden\ndoors set in the wall of the palace, with small windows between. As we\nstood close behind one of the doors, listening, a horse within neighed.\n\n\"The stables!\" I whispered, and, a moment later, had pushed back a door\nand entered. From the city about us we could hear the din of great\ncommotion, and quite close the sounds of battle--the crack of thousands\nof rifles, the yells of the soldiers, the hoarse commands of officers,\nand the blare of bugles.\n\nThe bombardment had ceased as suddenly as it had commenced. I judged\nthat the enemy was storming the city, for the sounds we heard were the\nsounds of hand-to-hand combat.\n\nWithin the stables I groped about until I had found saddles and bridles\nfor two horses. But afterward, in the darkness, I could find but a\nsingle mount. The doors of the opposite side, leading to the street,\nwere open, and we could see great multitudes of men, women, and\nchildren fleeing toward the west. Soldiers, afoot and mounted, were\njoining the mad exodus. Now and then a camel or an elephant would pass\nbearing some officer or dignitary to safety. It was evident that the\ncity would fall at any moment--a fact which was amply proclaimed by the\nterror-stricken haste of the fear-mad mob.\n\nHorse, camel, and elephant trod helpless women and children beneath\ntheir feet. A common soldier dragged a general from his mount, and,\nleaping to the animal's back, fled down the packed street toward the\nwest. A woman seized a gun and brained a court dignitary, whose horse\nhad trampled her child to death. Shrieks, curses, commands,\nsupplications filled the air. It was a frightful scene--one that will\nbe burned upon my memory forever.\n\nI had saddled and bridled the single horse which had evidently been\noverlooked by the royal household in its flight, and, standing a little\nback in the shadow of the stable's interior, Victory and I watched the\nsurging throng without.\n\nTo have entered it would have been to have courted greater danger than\nwe were already in. We decided to wait until the stress of blacks\nthinned, and for more than an hour we stood there while the sounds of\nbattle raged upon the eastern side of the city and the population flew\ntoward the west. More and more numerous became the uniformed soldiers\namong the fleeing throng, until, toward the last, the street was packed\nwith them. It was no orderly retreat, but a rout, complete and\nterrible.\n\nThe fighting was steadily approaching us now, until the crack of rifles\nsounded in the very street upon which we were looking. And then came a\nhandful of brave men--a little rear guard backing slowly toward the\nwest, working their smoking rifles in feverish haste as they fired\nvolley after volley at the foe we could not see.\n\nBut these were pressed back and back until the first line of the enemy\ncame opposite our shelter. They were men of medium height, with olive\ncomplexions and almond eyes. In them I recognized the descendants of\nthe ancient Chinese race.\n\nThey were well uniformed and superbly armed, and they fought bravely\nand under perfect discipline. So rapt was I in the exciting events\ntranspiring in the street that I did not hear the approach of a body of\nmen from behind. It was a party of the conquerors who had entered the\npalace and were searching it.\n\nThey came upon us so unexpectedly that we were prisoners before we\nrealized what had happened. That night we were held under a strong\nguard just outside the eastern wall of the city, and the next morning\nwere started upon a long march toward the east.\n\nOur captors were not unkind to us, and treated the women prisoners with\nrespect. We marched for many days--so many that I lost count of\nthem--and at last we came to another city--a Chinese city this\ntime--which stands upon the site of ancient Moscow.\n\nIt is only a small frontier city, but it is well built and well kept.\nHere a large military force is maintained, and here also, is a terminus\nof the railroad that crosses modern China to the Pacific.\n\nThere was every evidence of a high civilization in all that we saw\nwithin the city, which, in connection with the humane treatment that\nhad been accorded all prisoners upon the long and tiresome march,\nencouraged me to hope that I might appeal to some high officer here for\nthe treatment which my rank and birth merited.\n\nWe could converse with our captors only through the medium of\ninterpreters who spoke both Chinese and Abyssinian. But there were\nmany of these, and shortly after we reached the city I persuaded one of\nthem to carry a verbal message to the officer who had commanded the\ntroops during the return from New Gondar, asking that I might be given\na hearing by some high official.\n\nThe reply to my request was a summons to appear before the officer to\nwhom I had addressed my appeal. A sergeant came for me along with the\ninterpreter, and I managed to obtain his permission to let Victory\naccompany me--I had never left her alone with the prisoners since we\nhad been captured.\n\nTo my delight I found that the officer into whose presence we were\nconducted spoke Abyssinian fluently. He was astounded when I told him\nthat I was a Pan-American. Unlike all others whom I had spoken with\nsince my arrival in Europe, he was well acquainted with ancient\nhistory--was familiar with twentieth century conditions in Pan-America,\nand after putting a half dozen questions to me was satisfied that I\nspoke the truth.\n\nWhen I told him that Victory was Queen of England he showed little\nsurprise, telling me that in their recent explorations in ancient\nRussia they had found many descendants of the old nobility and royalty.\n\nHe immediately set aside a comfortable house for us, furnished us with\nservants and with money, and in other ways showed us every attention\nand kindness.\n\nHe told me that he would telegraph his emperor at once, and the result\nwas that we were presently commanded to repair to Peking and present\nourselves before the ruler.\n\nWe made the journey in a comfortable railway carriage, through a\ncountry which, as we traveled farther toward the east, showed\nincreasing evidence of prosperity and wealth.\n\nAt the imperial court we were received with great kindness, the emperor\nbeing most inquisitive about the state of modern Pan-America. He told\nme that while he personally deplored the existence of the strict\nregulations which had raised a barrier between the east and the west,\nhe had felt, as had his predecessors, that recognition of the wishes of\nthe great Pan-American federation would be most conducive to the\ncontinued peace of the world.\n\nHis empire includes all of Asia, and the islands of the Pacific as far\neast as 175dW. The empire of Japan no longer exists, having been\nconquered and absorbed by China over a hundred years ago. The\nPhilippines are well administered, and constitute one of the most\nprogressive colonies of the Chinese empire.\n\nThe emperor told me that the building of this great empire and the\nspreading of enlightenment among its diversified and savage peoples had\nrequired all the best efforts of nearly two hundred years. Upon his\naccession to the throne he had found the labor well nigh perfected and\nhad turned his attention to the reclamation of Europe.\n\nHis ambition is to wrest it from the hands of the blacks, and then to\nattempt the work of elevating its fallen peoples to the high estate\nfrom which the Great War precipitated them.\n\nI asked him who was victorious in that war, and he shook his head sadly\nas he replied:\n\n\"Pan-America, perhaps, and China, with the blacks of Abyssinia,\" he\nsaid. \"Those who did not fight were the only ones to reap any of the\nrewards that are supposed to belong to victory. The combatants reaped\nnaught but annihilation. You have seen--better than any man you must\nrealize that there was no victory for any nation embroiled in that\nfrightful war.\"\n\n\"When did it end?\" I asked him.\n\nAgain he shook his head. \"It has not ended yet. There has never been\na formal peace declared in Europe. After a while there were none left\nto make peace, and the rude tribes which sprang from the survivors\ncontinued to fight among themselves because they knew no better\ncondition of society. War razed the works of man--war and pestilence\nrazed man. God give that there shall never be such another war!\"\n\nYou all know how Porfirio Johnson returned to Pan-America with John\nAlvarez in chains; how Alvarez's trial raised a popular demonstration\nthat the government could not ignore. His eloquent appeal--not for\nhimself, but for me--is historic, as are its results. You know how a\nfleet was sent across the Atlantic to search for me, how the\nrestrictions against crossing thirty to one hundred seventy-five were\nremoved forever, and how the officers were brought to Peking, arriving\nupon the very day that Victory and I were married at the imperial court.\n\nMy return to Pan-America was very different from anything I could\npossibly have imagined a year before. Instead of being received as a\ntraitor to my country, I was acclaimed a hero. It was good to get back\nagain, good to witness the kindly treatment that was accorded my dear\nVictory, and when I learned that Delcarte and Taylor had been found at\nthe mouth of the Rhine and were already back in Pan-America my joy was\nunalloyed.\n\nAnd now we are going back, Victory and I, with the men and the\nmunitions and power to reclaim England for her queen. Again I shall\ncross thirty, but under what altered conditions!\n\nA new epoch for Europe is inaugurated, with enlightened China on the\neast and enlightened Pan-America on the west--the two great peace\npowers whom God has preserved to regenerate chastened and forgiven\nEurope. I have been through much--I have suffered much, but I have won\ntwo great laurel wreaths beyond thirty. One is the opportunity to\nrescue Europe from barbarism, the other is a little barbarian, and the\ngreater of these is--Victory."