Chapter I
This is the tale of Bradley after he left Fort Dinosaur upon the west
coast of the great lake that is in the center of the island.
Upon the fourth day of September, 1916, he set out with four
companions, Sinclair, Brady, James, and Tippet, to search along the
base of the barrier cliffs for a point at which they might be scaled.
Through the heavy Caspakian air, beneath the swollen sun, the five men
marched northwest from Fort Dinosaur, now waist-deep in lush, jungle
grasses starred with myriad gorgeous blooms, now across open
meadow-land and parklike expanses and again plunging into dense forests
of eucalyptus and acacia and giant arboreous ferns with feathered
fronds waving gently a hundred feet above their heads.
About them upon the ground, among the trees and in the air over them
moved and swung and soared the countless forms of Caspak's teeming
life. Always were they menaced by some frightful thing and seldom were
their rifles cool, yet even in the brief time they had dwelt upon
Caprona they had become callous to danger, so that they swung along
laughing and chatting like soldiers on a summer hike.
"This reminds me of South Clark Street," remarked Brady, who had once
served on the traffic squad in Chicago; and as no one asked him why, he
volunteered that it was "because it's no place for an Irishman."
"South Clark Street and heaven have something in common, then,"
suggested Sinclair. James and Tippet laughed, and then a hideous growl
broke from a dense thicket ahead and diverted their attention to other
matters.
"One of them behemoths of 'Oly Writ," muttered Tippet as they came to a
halt and with guns ready awaited the almost inevitable charge.
"Hungry lot o' beggars, these," said Bradley; "always trying to eat
everything they see."
For a moment no further sound came from the thicket. "He may be
feeding now," suggested Bradley. "We'll try to go around him. Can't
waste ammunition. Won't last forever. Follow me." And he set off at
right angles to their former course, hoping to avert a charge. They
had taken a dozen steps, perhaps, when the thicket moved to the advance
of the thing within it, the leafy branches parted, and the hideous head
of a gigantic bear emerged.
"Pick your trees," whispered Bradley. "Can't waste ammunition."
The men looked about them. The bear took a couple of steps forward,
still growling menacingly. He was exposed to the shoulders now.
Tippet took one look at the monster and bolted for the nearest tree;
and then the bear charged. He charged straight for Tippet. The other
men scattered for the various trees they had selected--all except
Bradley. He stood watching Tippet and the bear. The man had a good
start and the tree was not far away; but the speed of the enormous
creature behind him was something to marvel at, yet Tippet was in a
fair way to make his sanctuary when his foot caught in a tangle of
roots and down he went, his rifle flying from his hand and falling
several yards away. Instantly Bradley's piece was at his shoulder,
there was a sharp report answered by a roar of mingled rage and pain
from the carnivore. Tippet attempted to scramble to his feet.
"Lie still!" shouted Bradley. "Can't waste ammunition."
The bear halted in its tracks, wheeled toward Bradley and then back
again toward Tippet. Again the former's rifle spit angrily, and the
bear turned again in his direction. Bradley shouted loudly. "Come on,
you behemoth of Holy Writ!" he cried. "Come on, you duffer! Can't
waste ammunition." And as he saw the bear apparently upon the verge of
deciding to charge him, he encouraged the idea by backing rapidly away,
knowing that an angry beast will more often charge one who moves than
one who lies still.
And the bear did charge. Like a bolt of lightning he flashed down upon
the Englishman. "Now run!" Bradley called to Tippet and himself
turned in flight toward a nearby tree. The other men, now safely
ensconced upon various branches, watched the race with breathless
interest. Would Bradley make it? It seemed scarce possible. And if
he didn't! James gasped at the thought. Six feet at the shoulder
stood the frightful mountain of blood-mad flesh and bone and sinew that
was bearing down with the speed of an express train upon the seemingly
slow-moving man.
It all happened in a few seconds; but they were seconds that seemed
like hours to the men who watched. They saw Tippet leap to his feet at
Bradley's shouted warning. They saw him run, stooping to recover his
rifle as he passed the spot where it had fallen. They saw him glance
back toward Bradley, and then they saw him stop short of the tree that
might have given him safety and turn back in the direction of the bear.
Firing as he ran, Tippet raced after the great cave bear--the monstrous
thing that should have been extinct ages before--ran for it and fired
even as the beast was almost upon Bradley. The men in the trees
scarcely breathed. It seemed to them such a futile thing for Tippet to
do, and Tippet of all men! They had never looked upon Tippet as a
coward--there seemed to be no cowards among that strangely assorted
company that Fate had gathered together from the four corners of the
earth--but Tippet was considered a cautious man. Overcautious, some
thought him. How futile he and his little pop-gun appeared as he
dashed after that living engine of destruction! But, oh, how glorious!
It was some such thought as this that ran through Brady's mind, though
articulated it might have been expressed otherwise, albeit more
forcefully.
Just then it occurred to Brady to fire and he, too, opened upon the
bear, but at the same instant the animal stumbled and fell forward,
though still growling most fearsomely. Tippet never stopped running or
firing until he stood within a foot of the brute, which lay almost
touching Bradley and was already struggling to regain its feet.
Placing the muzzle of his gun against the bear's ear, Tippet pulled the
trigger. The creature sank limply to the ground and Bradley scrambled
to his feet.
"Good work, Tippet," he said. "Mightily obliged to you--awful waste of
ammunition, really."
And then they resumed the march and in fifteen minutes the encounter
had ceased even to be a topic of conversation.
For two days they continued upon their perilous way. Already the
cliffs loomed high and forbidding close ahead without sign of break to
encourage hope that somewhere they might be scaled. Late in the
afternoon the party crossed a small stream of warm water upon the
sluggishly moving surface of which floated countless millions of tiny
green eggs surrounded by a light scum of the same color, though of a
darker shade. Their past experience of Caspak had taught them that
they might expect to come upon a stagnant pool of warm water if they
followed the stream to its source; but there they were almost certain
to find some of Caspak's grotesque, manlike creatures. Already since
they had disembarked from the U-33 after its perilous trip through the
subterranean channel beneath the barrier cliffs had brought them into
the inland sea of Caspak, had they encountered what had appeared to be
three distinct types of these creatures. There had been the pure
apes--huge, gorillalike beasts--and those who walked, a trifle more
erect and had features with just a shade more of the human cast about
them. Then there were men like Ahm, whom they had captured and
confined at the fort--Ahm, the club-man. "Well-known club-man," Tyler
had called him. Ahm and his people had knowledge of a speech. They
had a language, in which they were unlike the race just inferior to
them, and they walked much more erect and were less hairy: but it was
principally the fact that they possessed a spoken language and carried
a weapon that differentiated them from the others.
All of these peoples had proven belligerent in the extreme. In common
with the rest of the fauna of Caprona the first law of nature as they
seemed to understand it was to kill--kill--kill. And so it was that
Bradley had no desire to follow up the little stream toward the pool
near which were sure to be the caves of some savage tribe, but fortune
played him an unkind trick, for the pool was much closer than he
imagined, its southern end reaching fully a mile south of the point at
which they crossed the stream, and so it was that after forcing their
way through a tangle of jungle vegetation they came out upon the edge
of the pool which they had wished to avoid.
Almost simultaneously there appeared south of them a party of naked men
armed with clubs and hatchets. Both parties halted as they caught
sight of one another. The men from the fort saw before them a hunting
party evidently returning to its caves or village laden with meat.
They were large men with features closely resembling those of the
African Negro though their skins were white. Short hair grew upon a
large portion of their limbs and bodies, which still retained a
considerable trace of apish progenitors. They were, however, a
distinctly higher type than the Bo-lu, or club-men.
Bradley would have been glad to have averted a meeting; but as he
desired to lead his party south around the end of the pool, and as it
was hemmed in by the jungle on one side and the water on the other,
there seemed no escape from an encounter.
On the chance that he might avoid a clash, Bradley stepped forward with
upraised hand. "We are friends," he called in the tongue of Ahm, the
Bo-lu, who had been held a prisoner at the fort; "permit us to pass in
peace. We will not harm you."
At this the hatchet-men set up a great jabbering with much laughter,
loud and boisterous. "No," shouted one, "you will not harm us, for we
shall kill you. Come! We kill! We kill!" And with hideous shouts
they charged down upon the Europeans.
"Sinclair, you may fire," said Bradley quietly. "Pick off the leader.
Can't waste ammunition."
The Englishman raised his piece to his shoulder and took quick aim at
the breast of the yelling savage leaping toward them. Directly behind
the leader came another hatchet-man, and with the report of Sinclair's
rifle both warriors lunged forward in the tall grass, pierced by the
same bullet. The effect upon the rest of the band was electrical. As
one man they came to a sudden halt, wheeled to the east and dashed into
the jungle, where the men could hear them forcing their way in an
effort to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the
authors of this new and frightful noise that killed warriors at a great
distance.
Both the savages were dead when Bradley approached to examine them, and
as the Europeans gathered around, other eyes were bent upon them with
greater curiosity than they displayed for the victim of Sinclair's
bullet. When the party again took up the march around the southern end
of the pool the owner of the eyes followed them--large, round eyes,
almost expressionless except for a certain cold cruelty which glinted
malignly from under their pale gray irises.
All unconscious of the stalker, the men came, late in the afternoon, to
a spot which seemed favorable as a campsite. A cold spring bubbled
from the base of a rocky formation which overhung and partially
encircled a small inclosure. At Bradley's command, the men took up the
duties assigned them--gathering wood, building a cook-fire and
preparing the evening meal. It was while they were thus engaged that
Brady's attention was attracted by the dismal flapping of huge wings.
He glanced up, expecting to see one of the great flying reptiles of a
bygone age, his rifle ready in his hand. Brady was a brave man. He
had groped his way up narrow tenement stairs and taken an armed maniac
from a dark room without turning a hair; but now as he looked up, he
went white and staggered back.
"Gawd!" he almost screamed. "What is it?"
Attracted by Brady's cry the others seized their rifles as they
followed his wide-eyed, frozen gaze, nor was there one of them that was
not moved by some species of terror or awe. Then Brady spoke again in
an almost inaudible voice. "Holy Mother protect us--it's a banshee!"
Bradley, always cool almost to indifference in the face of danger, felt
a strange, creeping sensation run over his flesh, as slowly, not a
hundred feet above them, the thing flapped itself across the sky, its
huge, round eyes glaring down upon them. And until it disappeared over
the tops of the trees of a near-by wood the five men stood as though
paralyzed, their eyes never leaving the weird shape; nor never one of
them appearing to recall that he grasped a loaded rifle in his hands.
With the passing of the thing, came the reaction. Tippet sank to the
ground and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Gord," he moaned. "Tyke
me awy from this orful plice." Brady, recovered from the first shock,
swore loud and luridly. He called upon all the saints to witness that
he was unafraid and that anybody with half an eye could have seen that
the creature was nothing more than "one av thim flyin' alligators" that
they all were familiar with.
"Yes," said Sinclair with fine sarcasm, "we've saw so many of them with
white shrouds on 'em."
"Shut up, you fool!" growled Brady. "If you know so much, tell us what
it was after bein' then."
Then he turned toward Bradley. "What was it, sir, do you think?" he
asked.
Bradley shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "It looked like a
winged human being clothed in a flowing white robe. Its face was more
human than otherwise. That is the way it looked to me; but what it
really was I can't even guess, for such a creature is as far beyond my
experience or knowledge as it is beyond yours. All that I am sure of
is that whatever else it may have been, it was quite material--it was
no ghost; rather just another of the strange forms of life which we
have met here and with which we should be accustomed by this time."
Tippet looked up. His face was still ashy. "Yer cawn't tell me," he
cried. "Hi seen hit. Blime, Hi seen hit. Hit was ha dead man flyin'
through the hair. Didn't Hi see 'is heyes? Oh, Gord! Didn't Hi see
'em?"
"It didn't look like any beast or reptile to me," spoke up Sinclair.
"It was lookin' right down at me when I looked up and I saw its face
plain as I see yours. It had big round eyes that looked all cold and
dead, and its cheeks were sunken in deep, and I could see its yellow
teeth behind thin, tight-drawn lips--like a man who had been dead a
long while, sir," he added, turning toward Bradley.
"Yes!" James had not spoken since the apparition had passed over them,
and now it was scarce speech which he uttered--rather a series of
articulate gasps. "Yes--dead--a--long--while. It--means something.
It--come--for some--one. For one--of us. One--of us is goin'--to die.
I'm goin' to die!" he ended in a wail.
"Come! Come!" snapped Bradley. "Won't do. Won't do at all. Get to
work, all of you. Waste of time. Can't waste time."
His authoritative tones brought them all up standing, and presently
each was occupied with his own duties; but each worked in silence and
there was no singing and no bantering such as had marked the making of
previous camps. Not until they had eaten and to each had been issued
the little ration of smoking tobacco allowed after each evening meal
did any sign of a relaxation of taut nerves appear. It was Brady who
showed the first signs of returning good spirits. He commenced humming
"It's a Long Way to Tipperary" and presently to voice the words, but he
was well into his third song before anyone joined him, and even then
there seemed a dismal note in even the gayest of tunes.
A huge fire blazed in the opening of their rocky shelter that the
prowling carnivora might be kept at bay; and always one man stood on
guard, watchfully alert against a sudden rush by some maddened beast of
the jungle. Beyond the fire, yellow-green spots of flame appeared,
moved restlessly about, disappeared and reappeared, accompanied by a
hideous chorus of screams and growls and roars as the hungry
meat-eaters hunting through the night were attracted by the light or
the scent of possible prey.
But to such sights and sounds as these the five men had become callous.
They sang or talked as unconcernedly as they might have done in the
bar-room of some publichouse at home.
Sinclair was standing guard. The others were listening to Brady's
description of traffic congestion at the Rush Street bridge during the
rush hour at night. The fire crackled cheerily. The owners of the
yellow-green eyes raised their frightful chorus to the heavens.
Conditions seemed again to have returned to normal. And then, as
though the hand of Death had reached out and touched them all, the five
men tensed into sudden rigidity.
Above the nocturnal diapason of the teeming jungle sounded a dismal
flapping of wings and over head, through the thick night, a shadowy
form passed across the diffused light of the flaring camp-fire.
Sinclair raised his rifle and fired. An eerie wail floated down from
above and the apparition, whatever it might have been, was swallowed by
the darkness. For several seconds the listening men heard the sound of
those dismally flapping wings lessening in the distance until they
could no longer be heard.
Bradley was the first to speak. "Shouldn't have fired, Sinclair," he
said; "can't waste ammunition." But there was no note of censure in
his tone. It was as though he understood the nervous reaction that had
compelled the other's act.
"I couldn't help it, sir," said Sinclair. "Lord, it would take an iron
man to keep from shootin' at that awful thing. Do you believe in
ghosts, sir?"
"No," replied Bradley. "No such things."
"I don't know about that," said Brady. "There was a woman murdered
over on the prairie near Brighton--her throat was cut from ear to ear,
and--"
"Shut up," snapped Bradley.
"My grandaddy used to live down Coppington wy," said Tippet. "They
were a hold ruined castle on a 'ill near by, hand at midnight they used
to see pale blue lights through the windows an 'ear--"
"Will you close your hatch!" demanded Bradley. "You fools will have
yourselves scared to death in a minute. Now go to sleep."
But there was little sleep in camp that night until utter exhaustion
overtook the harassed men toward morning; nor was there any return of
the weird creature that had set the nerves of each of them on edge.
The following forenoon the party reached the base of the barrier cliffs
and for two days marched northward in an effort to discover a break in
the frowning abutment that raised its rocky face almost perpendicularly
above them, yet nowhere was there the slightest indication that the
cliffs were scalable.
Disheartened, Bradley determined to turn back toward the fort, as he
already had exceeded the time decided upon by Bowen Tyler and himself
for the expedition. The cliffs for many miles had been trending in a
northeasterly direction, indicating to Bradley that they were
approaching the northern extremity of the island. According to the
best of his calculations they had made sufficient easting during the
past two days to have brought them to a point almost directly north of
Fort Dinosaur and as nothing could be gained by retracing their steps
along the base of the cliffs he decided to strike due south through the
unexplored country between them and the fort.
That night (September 9, 1916), they made camp a short distance from
the cliffs beside one of the numerous cool springs that are to be found
within Caspak, oftentimes close beside the still more numerous warm and
hot springs which feed the many pools. After supper the men lay
smoking and chatting among themselves. Tippet was on guard. Fewer
night prowlers threatened them, and the men were commenting upon the
fact that the farther north they had traveled the smaller the number of
all species of animals became, though it was still present in what
would have seemed appalling plenitude in any other part of the world.
The diminution in reptilian life was the most noticeable change in the
fauna of northern Caspak. Here, however, were forms they had not met
elsewhere, several of which were of gigantic proportions.
According to their custom all, with the exception of the man on guard,
sought sleep early, nor, once disposed upon the ground for slumber,
were they long in finding it. It seemed to Bradley that he had
scarcely closed his eyes when he was brought to his feet, wide awake,
by a piercing scream which was punctuated by the sharp report of a
rifle from the direction of the fire where Tippet stood guard. As he
ran toward the man, Bradley heard above him the same uncanny wail that
had set every nerve on edge several nights before, and the dismal
flapping of huge wings. He did not need to look up at the
white-shrouded figure winging slowly away into the night to know that
their grim visitor had returned.
The muscles of his arm, reacting to the sight and sound of the menacing
form, carried his hand to the butt of his pistol; but after he had
drawn the weapon, he immediately returned it to its holster with a
shrug.
"What for?" he muttered. "Can't waste ammunition." Then he walked
quickly to where Tippet lay sprawled upon his face. By this time
James, Brady and Sinclair were at his heels, each with his rifle in
readiness.
"Is he dead, sir?" whispered James as Bradley kneeled beside the
prostrate form.
Bradley turned Tippet over on his back and pressed an ear close to the
other's heart. In a moment he raised his head. "Fainted," he
announced. "Get water. Hurry!" Then he loosened Tippet's shirt at
the throat and when the water was brought, threw a cupful in the man's
face. Slowly Tippet regained consciousness and sat up. At first he
looked curiously into the faces of the men about him; then an
expression of terror overspread his features. He shot a startled
glance up into the black void above and then burying his face in his
arms began to sob like a child.
"What's wrong, man?" demanded Bradley. "Buck up! Can't play cry-baby.
Waste of energy. What happened?"
"Wot 'appened, sir!" wailed Tippet. "Oh, Gord, sir! Hit came back.
Hit came for me, sir. Right hit did, sir; strite hat me, sir; hand
with long w'ite 'ands it clawed for me. Oh, Gord! Hit almost caught
me, sir. Hi'm has good as dead; Hi'm a marked man; that's wot Hi ham.
Hit was a-goin' for to carry me horf, sir."
"Stuff and nonsense," snapped Bradley. "Did you get a good look at it?"
Tippet said that he did--a much better look than he wanted. The thing
had almost clutched him, and he had looked straight into its
eyes--"dead heyes in a dead face," he had described them.
"Wot was it after bein', do you think?" inquired Brady.
"Hit was Death," moaned Tippet, shuddering, and again a pall of gloom
fell upon the little party.
The following day Tippet walked as one in a trance. He never spoke
except in reply to a direct question, which more often than not had to
be repeated before it could attract his attention. He insisted that he
was already a dead man, for if the thing didn't come for him during the
day he would never live through another night of agonized apprehension,
waiting for the frightful end that he was positive was in store for
him. "I'll see to that," he said, and they all knew that Tippet meant
to take his own life before darkness set in.
Bradley tried to reason with him, in his short, crisp way, but soon saw
the futility of it; nor could he take the man's weapons from him
without subjecting him to almost certain death from any of the
numberless dangers that beset their way.
The entire party was moody and glum. There was none of the bantering
that had marked their intercourse before, even in the face of blighting
hardships and hideous danger. This was a new menace that threatened
them, something that they couldn't explain; and so, naturally, it
aroused within them superstitious fear which Tippet's attitude only
tended to augment. To add further to their gloom, their way led
through a dense forest, where, on account of the underbrush, it was
difficult to make even a mile an hour. Constant watchfulness was
required to avoid the many snakes of various degrees of repulsiveness
and enormity that infested the wood; and the only ray of hope they had
to cling to was that the forest would, like the majority of Caspakian
forests, prove to be of no considerable extent.
Bradley was in the lead when he came suddenly upon a grotesque creature
of Titanic proportions. Crouching among the trees, which here
commenced to thin out slightly, Bradley saw what appeared to be an
enormous dragon devouring the carcass of a mammoth. From frightful
jaws to the tip of its long tail it was fully forty feet in length.
Its body was covered with plates of thick skin which bore a striking
resemblance to armor-plate. The creature saw Bradley almost at the
same instant that he saw it and reared up on its enormous hind legs
until its head towered a full twenty-five feet above the ground. From
the cavernous jaws issued a hissing sound of a volume equal to the
escaping steam from the safety-valves of half a dozen locomotives, and
then the creature came for the man.
"Scatter!" shouted Bradley to those behind him; and all but Tippet
heeded the warning. The man stood as though dazed, and when Bradley
saw the other's danger, he too stopped and wheeling about sent a bullet
into the massive body forcing its way through the trees toward him.
The shot struck the creature in the belly where there was no protecting
armor, eliciting a new note which rose in a shrill whistle and ended in
a wail. It was then that Tippet appeared to come out of his trance,
for with a cry of terror he turned and fled to the left. Bradley,
seeing that he had as good an opportunity as the others to escape, now
turned his attention to extricating himself; and as the woods seemed
dense on the right, he ran in that direction, hoping that the close-set
boles would prevent pursuit on the part of the great reptile. The
dragon paid no further attention to him, however, for Tippet's sudden
break for liberty had attracted its attention; and after Tippet it
went, bowling over small trees, uprooting underbrush and leaving a wake
behind it like that of a small tornado.
Bradley, the moment he had discovered the thing was pursuing Tippet,
had followed it. He was afraid to fire for fear of hitting the man,
and so it was that he came upon them at the very moment that the
monster lunged its great weight forward upon the doomed man. The
sharp, three-toed talons of the forelimbs seized poor Tippet, and
Bradley saw the unfortunate fellow lifted high above the ground as the
creature again reared up on its hind legs, immediately transferring
Tippet's body to its gaping jaws, which closed with a sickening,
crunching sound as Tippet's bones cracked beneath the great teeth.
Bradley half raised his rifle to fire again and then lowered it with a
shake of his head. Tippet was beyond succor--why waste a bullet that
Caspak could never replace? If he could now escape the further notice
of the monster it would be a wiser act than to throw his life away in
futile revenge. He saw that the reptile was not looking in his
direction, and so he slipped noiselessly behind the bole of a large
tree and thence quietly faded away in the direction he believed the
others to have taken. At what he considered a safe distance he halted
and looked back. Half hidden by the intervening trees he still could
see the huge head and the massive jaws from which protruded the limp
legs of the dead man. Then, as though struck by the hammer of Thor,
the creature collapsed and crumpled to the ground. Bradley's single
bullet, penetrating the body through the soft skin of the belly, had
slain the Titan.
A few minutes later, Bradley found the others of the party. The four
returned cautiously to the spot where the creature lay and after
convincing themselves that it was quite dead, came close to it. It was
an arduous and gruesome job extricating Tippet's mangled remains from
the powerful jaws, the men working for the most part silently.
"It was the work of the banshee all right," muttered Brady. "It warned
poor Tippet, it did."
"Hit killed him, that's wot hit did, hand hit'll kill some more of us,"
said James, his lower lip trembling.
"If it was a ghost," interjected Sinclair, "and I don't say as it was;
but if it was, why, it could take on any form it wanted to. It might
have turned itself into this thing, which ain't no natural thing at
all, just to get poor Tippet. If it had of been a lion or something
else humanlike it wouldn't look so strange; but this here thing ain't
humanlike. There ain't no such thing an' never was."
"Bullets don't kill ghosts," said Bradley, "so this couldn't have been
a ghost. Furthermore, there are no such things. I've been trying to
place this creature. Just succeeded. It's a tyrannosaurus. Saw
picture of skeleton in magazine. There's one in New York Natural
History Museum. Seems to me it said it was found in place called Hell
Creek somewhere in western North America. Supposed to have lived about
six million years ago."
"Hell Creek's in Montana," said Sinclair. "I used to punch cows in
Wyoming, an' I've heard of Hell Creek. Do you s'pose that there
thing's six million years old?" His tone was skeptical.
"No," replied Bradley; "But it would indicate that the island of
Caprona has stood almost without change for more than six million
years."
The conversation and Bradley's assurance that the creature was not of
supernatural origin helped to raise a trifle the spirits of the men;
and then came another diversion in the form of ravenous meat-eaters
attracted to the spot by the uncanny sense of smell which had apprised
them of the presence of flesh, killed and ready for the eating.
It was a constant battle while they dug a grave and consigned all that
was mortal of John Tippet to his last, lonely resting-place. Nor would
they leave then; but remained to fashion a rude headstone from a
crumbling out-cropping of sandstone and to gather a mass of the
gorgeous flowers growing in such great profusion around them and heap
the new-made grave with bright blooms. Upon the headstone Sinclair
scratched in rude characters the words:
HERE LIES JOHN TIPPET
ENGLISHMAN
KILLED BY TYRANNOSAURUS
10 SEPT. A.D. 1916
R.I.P.
and Bradley repeated a short prayer before they left their comrade
forever.
For three days the party marched due south through forests and
meadow-land and great park-like areas where countless herbivorous
animals grazed--deer and antelope and bos and the little ecca, the
smallest species of Caspakian horse, about the size of a rabbit. There
were other horses too; but all were small, the largest being not above
eight hands in height. Preying continually upon the herbivora were the
meat-eaters, large and small--wolves, hyaenodons, panthers, lions,
tigers, and bears as well as several large and ferocious species of
reptilian life.
On September twelfth the party scaled a line of sandstone cliffs which
crossed their route toward the south; but they crossed them only after
an encounter with the tribe that inhabited the numerous caves which
pitted the face of the escarpment. That night they camped upon a rocky
plateau which was sparsely wooded with jarrah, and here once again they
were visited by the weird, nocturnal apparition that had already filled
them with a nameless terror.
As on the night of September ninth the first warning came from the
sentinel standing guard over his sleeping companions. A
terror-stricken cry punctuated by the crack of a rifle brought Bradley,
Sinclair and Brady to their feet in time to see James, with clubbed
rifle, battling with a white-robed figure that hovered on widespread
wings on a level with the Englishman's head. As they ran, shouting,
forward, it was obvious to them that the weird and terrible apparition
was attempting to seize James; but when it saw the others coming to his
rescue, it desisted, flapping rapidly upward and away, its long, ragged
wings giving forth the peculiarly dismal notes which always
characterized the sound of its flying.
Bradley fired at the vanishing menacer of their peace and safety; but
whether he scored a hit or not, none could tell, though, following the
shot, there was wafted back to them the same piercing wail that had on
other occasions frozen their marrow.
Then they turned toward James, who lay face downward upon the ground,
trembling as with ague. For a time he could not even speak, but at
last regained sufficient composure to tell them how the thing must have
swooped silently upon him from above and behind as the first
premonition of danger he had received was when the long, clawlike
fingers had clutched him beneath either arm. In the melee his rifle
had been discharged and he had broken away at the same instant and
turned to defend himself with the butt. The rest they had seen.
From that instant James was an absolutely broken man. He maintained
with shaking lips that his doom was sealed, that the thing had marked
him for its own, and that he was as good as dead, nor could any amount
of argument or raillery convince him to the contrary. He had seen
Tippet marked and claimed and now he had been marked. Nor were his
constant reiterations of this belief without effect upon the rest of
the party. Even Bradley felt depressed, though for the sake of the
others he managed to hide it beneath a show of confidence he was far
from feeling.
And on the following day William James was killed by a saber-tooth
tiger--September 13, 1916. Beneath a jarrah tree on the stony plateau
on the northern edge of the Sto-lu country in the land that Time
forgot, he lies in a lonely grave marked by a rough headstone.
Southward from his grave marched three grim and silent men. To the
best of Bradley's reckoning they were some twenty-five miles north of
Fort Dinosaur, and that they might reach the fort on the following day,
they plodded on until darkness overtook them. With comparative safety
fifteen miles away, they made camp at last; but there was no singing
now and no joking. In the bottom of his heart each prayed that they
might come safely through just this night, for they knew that during
the morrow they would make the final stretch, yet the nerves of each
were taut with strained anticipation of what gruesome thing might flap
down upon them from the black sky, marking another for its own. Who
would be the next?
As was their custom, they took turns at guard, each man doing two hours
and then arousing the next. Brady had gone on from eight to ten,
followed by Sinclair from ten to twelve, then Bradley had been
awakened. Brady would stand the last guard from two to four, as they
had determined to start the moment that it became light enough to
insure comparative safety upon the trail.
The snapping of a twig aroused Brady out of a dead sleep, and as he
opened his eyes, he saw that it was broad daylight and that at twenty
paces from him stood a huge lion. As the man sprang to his feet, his
rifle ready in his hand, Sinclair awoke and took in the scene in a
single swift glance. The fire was out and Bradley was nowhere in
sight. For a long moment the lion and the men eyed one another. The
latter had no mind to fire if the beast minded its own affairs--they
were only too glad to let it go its way if it would; but the lion was
of a different mind.
Suddenly the long tail snapped stiffly erect, and as though it had been
attached to two trigger fingers the two rifles spoke in unison, for
both men knew this signal only too well--the immediate forerunner of a
deadly charge. As the brute's head had been raised, his spine had not
been visible; and so they did what they had learned by long experience
was best to do. Each covered a front leg, and as the tail snapped
aloft, fired. With a hideous roar the mighty flesh-eater lurched
forward to the ground with both front legs broken. It was an easy
accomplishment in the instant before the beast charged--after, it would
have been well-nigh an impossible feat. Brady stepped close in and
finished him with a shot in the base of the brain lest his terrific
roarings should attract his mate or others of their kind.
Then the two men turned and looked at one another. "Where is
Lieutenant Bradley?" asked Sinclair. They walked to the fire. Only a
few smoking embers remained. A few feet away lay Bradley's rifle.
There was no evidence of a struggle. The two men circled about the
camp twice and on the last lap Brady stooped and picked up an object
which had lain about ten yards beyond the fire--it was Bradley's cap.
Again the two looked questioningly at one another, and then,
simultaneously, both pairs of eyes swung upward and searched the sky.
A moment later Brady was examining the ground about the spot where
Bradley's cap had lain. It was one of those little barren, sandy
stretches that they had found only upon this stony plateau. Brady's
own footsteps showed as plainly as black ink upon white paper; but his
was the only foot that had marred the smooth, windswept surface--there
was no sign that Bradley had crossed the spot upon the surface of the
ground, and yet his cap lay well toward the center of it.
Breakfastless and with shaken nerves the two survivors plunged madly
into the long day's march. Both were strong, courageous, resourceful
men; but each had reached the limit of human nerve endurance and each
felt that he would rather die than spend another night in the hideous
open of that frightful land. Vivid in the mind of each was a picture
of Bradley's end, for though neither had witnessed the tragedy, both
could imagine almost precisely what had occurred. They did not discuss
it--they did not even mention it--yet all day long the thing was
uppermost in the mind of each and mingled with it a similar picture
with himself as victim should they fail to make Fort Dinosaur before
dark.
And so they plunged forward at reckless speed, their clothes, their
hands, their faces torn by the retarding underbrush that reached forth
to hinder them. Again and again they fell; but be it to their credit
that the one always waited and helped the other and that into the mind
of neither entered the thought or the temptation to desert his
companion--they would reach the fort together if both survived, or
neither would reach it.
They encountered the usual number of savage beasts and reptiles; but
they met them with a courageous recklessness born of desperation, and
by virtue of the very madness of the chances they took, they came
through unscathed and with the minimum of delay.
Shortly after noon they reached the end of the plateau. Before them
was a drop of two hundred feet to the valley beneath. To the left, in
the distance, they could see the waters of the great inland sea that
covers a considerable portion of the area of the crater island of
Caprona and at a little lesser distance to the south of the cliffs they
saw a thin spiral of smoke arising above the tree-tops.
The landscape was familiar--each recognized it immediately and knew
that that smoky column marked the spot where Dinosaur had stood. Was
the fort still there, or did the smoke arise from the smoldering embers
of the building they had helped to fashion for the housing of their
party? Who could say!
Thirty precious minutes that seemed as many hours to the impatient men
were consumed in locating a precarious way from the summit to the base
of the cliffs that bounded the plateau upon the south, and then once
again they struck off upon level ground toward their goal. The closer
they approached the fort the greater became their apprehension that all
would not be well. They pictured the barracks deserted or the small
company massacred and the buildings in ashes. It was almost in a
frenzy of fear that they broke through the final fringe of jungle and
stood at last upon the verge of the open meadow a half-mile from Fort
Dinosaur.
"Lord!" ejaculated Sinclair. "They are still there!" And he fell to
his knees, sobbing.
Brady trembled like a leaf as he crossed himself and gave silent
thanks, for there before them stood the sturdy ramparts of Dinosaur and
from inside the inclosure rose a thin spiral of smoke that marked the
location of the cook-house. All was well, then, and their comrades
were preparing the evening meal!
Across the clearing they raced as though they had not already covered
in a single day a trackless, primeval country that might easily have
required two days by fresh and untired men. Within hailing distance
they set up such a loud shouting that presently heads appeared above
the top of the parapet and soon answering shouts were rising from
within Fort Dinosaur. A moment later three men issued from the
inclosure and came forward to meet the survivors and listen to the
hurried story of the eleven eventful days since they had set out upon
their expedition to the barrier cliffs. They heard of the deaths of
Tippet and James and of the disappearance of Lieutenant Bradley, and a
new terror settled upon Dinosaur.
Olson, the Irish engineer, with Whitely and Wilson constituted the
remnants of Dinosaur's defenders, and to Brady and Sinclair they
narrated the salient events that had transpired since Bradley and his
party had marched away on September 4th. They told them of the
infamous act of Baron Friedrich von Schoenvorts and his German crew who
had stolen the U-33, breaking their parole, and steaming away toward
the subterranean opening through the barrier cliffs that carried the
waters of the inland sea into the open Pacific beyond; and of the
cowardly shelling of the fort.
They told of the disappearance of Miss La Rue in the night of September
11th, and of the departure of Bowen Tyler in search of her, accompanied
only by his Airedale, Nobs. Thus of the original party of eleven
Allies and nine Germans that had constituted the company of the U-33
when she left English waters after her capture by the crew of the
English tug there were but five now to be accounted for at Fort
Dinosaur. Benson, Tippet, James, and one of the Germans were known to
be dead. It was assumed that Bradley, Tyler and the girl had already
succumbed to some of the savage denizens of Caspak, while the fate of
the Germans was equally unknown, though it might readily be believed
that they had made good their escape. They had had ample time to
provision the ship and the refining of the crude oil they had
discovered north of the fort could have insured them an ample supply to
carry them back to Germany.