 17 A deal and its consequences. My eyes were bandaged tight, and a thong was run round my right wrist and tied to Laputa's saddle-bow. I felt the glare of the afternoon sun, and my head and my shins were continually barked by stones and trees. But these were my only tidings of the outer world. By the sound of his paces Laputa was riding the shimmel, and if anyone thinks it easy to go blindfolded by a horse's side, I hope he will soon have the experience. In the darkness I could not tell the speed of the beast. When I ran I overshot it and was tugged back. When I walked my wrist was dislocated with the tugs forward. For an hour or more I suffered this break-neck treatment. We were descending. Often I could hear the noise of falling streams, and once we splashed through a mountain forward. Laputa was taking no risks, for he clearly had in mind the possibility of some accident which would set me free, and he had no desire to have me guiding Arkol to his camp. But as I stumbled and sprawled down these rocky tracks I was not thinking of Laputa's plans. My whole soul was filled with regret for Colin and rage against his murderer. After my first mad rush I had not thought about my dog. He was dead. But so would I be in an hour or two, and there was no cause to lament him. But at the first revival of hope my grief had returned. As they bandaged my eyes I was wishing that they would let me see his grave. As I followed beside Laputa I told myself that if ever I got free, when the war was over I would go to Ananda's Crawl, find the grave, and put a tombstone over it in memory of the dog that saved my life. I would also write that the man who shot him was killed on such and such a day, at such and such a place, by Colin's master. I wondered why Laputa had not the wits to see the Portuguese treachery, and to let me fight him. I did not care what were the weapons—knives or guns or naked fists. I would certainly kill him, and afterwards the Caffers could do as they pleased with me. Hot tears of rage and weakness wet the bandage on my eyes, and the sobs which came from me were not only those of weariness. At last we halted. Laputa got down and took off the bandage, and I found myself in one of the hill meadows which lie among the foothills of the Volkberg. The glare blinded me, and for a little I could only see the marigolds growing at my feet. Then I had a glimpse of the deep gorge of the great Lataba below me, and far to the east the flats running out to the hazy blue line of the Lavombo Hills. Laputa let me sit on the ground for a minute or two to get my breath and rest my feet. That was a rough road, he said. You can take it easier now, for I have no wish to carry you. He patted the shimmel, and the beautiful creature turned his mild eyes on the pair of us. I wondered if he recognized his rider of two nights ago. I had seen Laputa as the Christian minister, as the priest and king in the cave, as the leader of an army at Dupri's Drift, and at the crawl we had left as the savage with all self-control flung to the winds. I was to see this amazing man in a further part, for he now became a friendly and rational companion. He kept his horse at an easy walk and talked to me as if we were two friends out for a trip together. Perhaps he had talked thus to Archole, the half-caste who drove his cape-cart. The wooded bluff above Makuti's glen showed far in front. He told me the story of the Makuti War, which I knew already. But he told it as a saga. There had been a stratagem by which one of the Bohr leaders, a grobalar, I think, got some of his men into the enemy's camp by hiding them in a captured forage wagon, like the Trojan horse I said involuntarily. Yes, said my companion, the same old device, and to my amazement he quoted some lines of Virgil. Do you understand Latin, he asked? I told him that I had some slight knowledge of the tongue, acquired at the University of Edinburgh. Laputa nodded. He mentioned the name of a professor and commented on his scholarship. Oh, man, I cried. What in God's name are you doing in this business? You that are educated and have seen the world. What makes you try to put the clock back? You want to wipe out the civilization of a thousand years and turn us all into savages. It's the more shame to you when you know better. You misunderstand me, he said quietly. It is because I have sucked civilization dry that I know the bitterness of the fruit. I want a simpler and better world, and I want that world for my own people. I am a Christian, and will you tell me that your civilization pays much attention to Christ? You call yourself a patriot. Will you not give me leave to be a patriot, in turn? If you are a Christian, what sort of Christianity is it to deluge the land with blood? The best, he said. The house must be swept and garnished before the man of the house can dwell in it. You have read history. Such a purging has descended on the church at many times, and the world has awakened to a new hope. It is the same in all religions. The temples grow tawdry and foul, and must be cleansed, and let me remind you, the cleanser has always come out of the desert. I had no answer, being too weak and forlorn to think, but I fastened on his patriotic plea. Where are the patriots in your following? They are all red caffers crying for blood and plunder. Supposing you were Oliver Cromwell, you could make nothing out of such a crew. They are my people, he said simply. By this time we had forwarded the great Lataba, and were making our way through the clumps of forest to the crown of the plateau. I noticed that Laputa kept well in cover, preferring the tangle of wooded undergrowth to the open spaces of the water meadows. As he talked, his wary eyes were keeping a sharp lookout over the landscape. I thrilled with the thought that my own folk were near at hand. Once Laputa checked me with his hand as I was going to speak, and in silence we crossed the cloof of a little stream. After that we struck a long strip of forest, and he slackened his watch. If you fight for a great cause, I said, why do you let a miscreant like Enriquech have a hand in it? You must know that the man's only interest in you is the chance of loot. I am for you against Enriquech. And I tell you plain, that if you don't break the snake's back it will sting you. Laputa looked at me with an odd meditative look. You misunderstand again, Mr. Starkeeper. The Portuguese is what you call a mean white. His only safety is among us. I am campaigner enough to know that an enemy who has a burning grievance against my other enemies is a good ally. You are too hard on Enriquech. You and your friends have treated him as a caffer, and a caffer he is in everything, but caffer virtues. What makes you so anxious that Enriquech should not betray me? I'm not a mean white, I said, and I will speak the truth. I hope in God's name to see you smashed. But I want it done by honest men, and not by a yellow devil who has murdered my dog and my friends. Sooner or later you will find him out. And if he escapes you, and there's any justice in heaven, he won't escape me. Brave words said Laputa with a laugh, and then in one second he became rigid in the saddle. We had crossed a patch of meadow and entered a wood, beyond which ran the highway. I fancy he was out in his reckoning and did not think the road so near. At any rate, after a moment he caught the sound of horses, and I caught it too. The wood was thin, and there was no room for retreat. While to recross the meadow would bring us clean into the open, he jumped from his horse, untied with amazing quickness the rope halter from its neck, and started to gag me by winding the thing round my jaw. I had no time to protest that I would keep faith, and my right hand was tethered to his pommel. In the grip of these great arms I was helpless, and in a trice was standing dumb as a lamppost, while Laputa, his left arm round both of mine, and his right hand over the shimmel's eyes, strained his ears like a sable antelope who has sent a danger. There was never a more brutal gagging. The rope crushed my nose and drove my lips down on my teeth besides gripping my throat, so that I could scarcely breathe. The pain was so great that I became sick and would have fallen but for Laputa. Happily I managed to get my teeth apart, so that one coil slipped between and eased the pain of the jaws. But the rest was bad enough to make me bite frantically on the toe, and I think in a little my sharp front teeth would have severed it. All this discomfort prevented me seeing what happened. The wood, as I have said, was thin, and through the screen of leaves I had confused impression of men and horses passing interminably. There can only have been a score at the most, but the moments drag if a cord is gripping your throat. When Laputa at length untied me I had another fit of nausea, and leaned helplessly against a tree. Laputa listened till the sound of the horses had died away. Then silently we stole to the edge of the road, across and into the thicker evergreen bush on the far side. At a pace which forced me to run hard we climbed a steepish slope, till ahead of us we saw the bald green crown of the meadow-land. I noticed that his face had grown dark and sullen again. He was in an enemy's country and had the air of the hunted instead of the hunter. When I stopped he glowered at me and once, when I was all but overcome with fatigue, he lifted his hand in a threat. Had he carried a Sembok it would have fallen on my back. If he was nervous so was I. The fact that I was out of the Kafer country and in the land of my own folk was a kind of qualified liberty. At any moment I felt Providence might intervene to set me free. It was in the bond that Laputa should shoot me if we were attacked. But a pistol might miss. As far as my shaken wits would let me I began to forecast the future. Once he got the jewels my side of the bargain was complete. He had promised me my life, but there had been nothing said about my liberty. And I felt assured that Laputa would never allow one who had seen so much to get off to Arkel with his tidings. But back to that unhallowed crawl I was resolved I would not go. He was armed and I was helpless. He was strong and I was dizzy with weakness. He was mounted and I was on foot. It seemed to pour hope that I should get away. There was little chance from a wandering patrol. For I knew that if we were followed I should have a bullet in my head. While Laputa got off on the shimmel I must wait and buy devents. At the worst a clean shot on the hillside in a race for life was better than the unknown mysteries of the crawl. I prayed earnestly to God to show me his mercy. For if ever man was sore bested by the heathen it was I. To my surprise Laputa chose to show himself on the green hill-shoulder. He looked towards the bulk-burg and raised his hands. It must have been some signal. I cast my eyes back on the road we had come and I thought I saw some figures a mile back on the edge of the Ataba Gorge. Laputa was making sure of my return. By this time it was about four in the afternoon, and as heavenly weather as the heart of man could wish, the meadows were full of aromatic herbs, which as we crushed them sent up a delicate odor. The little pools and shallows of the burns were as clear as a Lovian trout stream. We were now going at a good pace, and I found that my earlier weariness was growing less. I was being keyed up for some great crisis. For in my case the spirit acted direct on the body, and fatigue grew and ebbed with hope. I knew that my strength was not far from breaking-point, but I knew also that so long as a chance was left me, I should have enough for a stroke. Before I realized where we were we had rounded the hill and were looking down on the green cup of the Upper Makuti's Glen. Far down I remembered, where the trees began. There was a cloud of smoke. Some caffer, or maybe arcle, had fired the forest. The smoke was drifting away under a light west wind over the far plains, so that they were seen through a haze of opal. Laputa bad me take the lead. I saw quite clear the red cloof on the far side where the collar was hid. To get there we might have ridden straight into the cup, but a providential instinct made me circle round the top till we were on the lip of the ravine. This was the road some of Makuti's men had taken, and unthinkingly I followed them. Twenty minutes riding brought us to the place, and all the while I had no kind of plan of escape. I was in the hands of my maker, watching, like the Jews of old, for a sign. Laputa dismounted and looked down into the gorge. There is no road there, I said. We must go down to the foot and come up to the stream-side. It would be better to leave your horse here. He started down the cliff, which from above looks a sheer precipice. Then he seemed to agree with me, took the rope from the shimmel's neck, and knee-haltered his beast. And at that moment I had an inspiration. With my wrist-rope in his hand he proceeded me down the hill till we got to the red screes at the foot of the cloof. Then under my guidance we turned up into the darkness of the gorge. As we entered I looked back and saw figures coming over the edge of the green cup. Laputa's men, I guessed. What I had to do must be done quickly. We climbed up the burn over the succession of little cataracts, till we came to the flat space of shingle and the long pool where I had been taken that morning. The ashes of the fire which Makuti's men had made were plain on the rock. After that I had to climb a waterfall to get to the rock pool where I had bestowed the rubies. You must take off this thong, I said. I must climb to get the collar. Cover me with a pistol if you like. I won't be out of sight. Laputa undid the thong and set me free. From his belt he took a pistol, cocked it, and held it over his left hand. I had seen this way of shooting adopted by indifferent shots, and it gave me a wild hope that he might not be much of a marksman. It did not take me long to find the pool. Close against the blackened stump of a tree-fern, I thrust in my hand and gathered up the jewels from the cool sand. They came out glowing like living fires, and for a moment I thrilled with a sense of reverence. Surely these were no common stones which held in them a very heart of hell. Clutching them tightly I climbed down to Laputa. At the sight of the great snake he gave a cry of rapture. Tearing it from me he held it at arm's length, his face lit with a passionate joy. He kissed it, he raised it to the sky. Nay, he was on his knees before it. Once more he was the savage transported in the presence of his fetish. He turned to me with burning eyes. Down on your knees he cried, and reverence the andlondlo. Down you impious dog and seek pardon for your sacrilege. I won't, I said. I won't bow to any heave and idle. He pointed his pistol at me. In a second I shoot where your head is now. Down you fool or perish. You promised me my life, I said stubbornly. Though Heaven knows why I chose to act thus. He dropped the pistol and flung himself on me. I was helpless as a baby in his hands. He forced me to the ground and rolled my face in the sand. Then he pulled me to my feet and tossed me backward, till I almost staggered into the pool. I saved myself and staggered instead, into the shallow at the foot of it, close under the ledge of the precipice. That morning, when Makuti's men were cooking breakfast, I had figured out a route up the cliff. This route was now my hope of escape. Laputa had dropped his pistol, and the collar had plunged him in an ecstasy of worship. Now if ever was my time. I must get on the shelf which ran sideways up the cliff and then scramble for dear life. I pretended to be dazed and terrified. You promised me my life, I whimpered. Your life, he cried. Yes, you shall have your life. And before long you will pray for death. But I saved the collar, I pleaded. And Rikish would have stolen it. I brought it safe here, and now you have got it. Meantime I was pulling myself up on the shelf, and loosening with one hand a boulder which overhung the pool. You have been repaid, he said savagely. You will not die. But my life is no use without liberty, I said, working at the boulder till it lay loose in its niche. He did not answer, being intent on examining the collar to see if it had suffered any harm. I hope it isn't scratched, I said. And Rikish trod on it when I hit him. Laputa appeared at the gems like a mother at a child who has had a fall. I saw my chance and took it. With a great heave I pulled the boulder down into the pool. It made a prodigious splash, sending a shower of spray over Laputa and the collar. In cover of it I raced up the shelf, straining for the shelter of the juniper tree. A shot rang out and struck the rock above me. A second later I had reached the tree and was scrambling up the crack beyond it. Laputa did not fire again. He may have distrusted his shooting or seen a better way of it. He dashed through the stream and ran up the shelf like a clip-springer after me. I felt rather than saw what was happening. And with my heart in my mouth I gathered my dregs of energy for the last struggle. You know the nightmare where you are pursued by some awful terror. And those sick with fear your legs have a strange numbness and you cannot drag them in obedience to the will. Such was my feeling in the crack above the juniper tree. In truth I had passed the bounds of my endurance. Last night I had walked fifty miles. And all day I had borne the torments of a dreadful suspense. I had been bound and gagged and beaten till the force was out of my limbs. Also and above all I had had little food. And I was dizzy with want of sleep. My feet seemed leaden. My hands had no more grip than putty. I do not know how I escaped falling into the pool. For my head was singing in my heart thumping in my throat. I seemed to feel Laputa's great hand every second clawing at my heels. I had reasoned for my fears. He had entered the crack long before I had reached the top. And his progress was twice as fast as mine. When I emerged on the topmost shelf he was scarcely a yard behind me. But an overhang checked his bulky figure and gave me a few seconds' grace. I needed it all. For these last steps on the shelf were the totterings of an old man. Only a desperate resolution and an extreme terror made me drag one foot after the other. Blindly I staggered on to the top of the ravine and saw before me the shimmel grazing in the light of a westering sun. I forced myself into a sort of drunken run and crawled into the saddle. Behind me as I turned I could see Laputa's shoulders rising over the edge. I had no knife to cut the knee-halter and the horse could not stir. Then the miracle happened. When the rope had gagged me, my teeth must have nearly severed it at one place. And this Laputa had not noticed when he used it as a knee-halter. The shock of my entering the saddle made the shimmel fling up his head violently and the rope snapped. I could not find the stirrups but I dug my heels into his sides and he leaped forward. At the same moment Laputa began to shoot. It was a foolish move for he might have caught me by running, since I had neither spurs nor whip and the horse was hampered by the loose end of rope at his knee. In any case being an indifferent shot, he should have aimed at the shimmel, not at me. But I suppose he wished to save his charger. One bullet sang past my head. A second did my business for me. It passed over my shoulder as I lay low in the saddle and grazed the beast's right ear. The pain maddened him and roped and all he plunged into a wild gallop. Other shots came but they fell far short. I saw dimly a native or two. The men who had followed us rushed to intercept me. And I think a spear was flung. But in a flash we were past them and their cries faded behind me. I found the bridle reached for the stirrups and galloped straight for the sunset and for freedom. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of Prestor John How a man may sometimes put his trust in a horse. I had long passed the limit of my strength. Only constant fear and wild alternations of hope had kept me going so long. And now that I was safe, I became lightheaded in earnest. The wonder is that I did not fall off. Happily the horse was good in the ground easy. Or I was powerless to do any guiding. I simply sat on his back in a silly glow of comfort, keeping a line for the dying sun, which I saw in a nick of the Iron Crown Mountain. A sort of childish happiness possessed me. After three days of imminent peril, to be free, was to be in fairyland. To be swishing through the long bracken or plunging among the breast-high flowers of the meadowland, in a world of essential lights and fragrances, seems scarcely part of mortal experience. Remember that I was little more than a lad, and that I had faced death so often of late that my mind was all adrift. To be able to hope once more, nay to be allowed to cease both from hope and fear, was like a deep and happy opiate to my senses. Spent and weak as I was, my soul swam in blessed waters of ease. The mood did not last long. I came back to earth with a shock, as the shimmels stumbled at the crossing of a stream. I saw that the darkness was fast falling, and with the sight panic returned to me. Behind me I seemed to hear the sound of pursuit. The noise was in my ears but when I turned it ceased, and I saw only the dusky shoulders of hills. I tried to remember what Arkle had told me about his headquarters, but my memory was wiped clean. I thought they were on or near the highway, but I could not remember where the highway was. Besides, he was close to the enemy, and I wanted to get back into the towns, far away from the battle-line. If I rode west I must come in time to villages where I could hide myself. These were unworthy thoughts, but my excuse must be my tattered nerves. When a man comes out of great danger, he is apt to be a little deaf to the call of duty. Suddenly I became ashamed. God had preserved me from deadly perils. But not that I might cower in some shelter. I had a mission as clear as Laputa's. For the first time I became conscious to what a little thing I owed my salvation. That matter of the broken halter was like the finger of divine providence. I had been saved for a purpose, and unless I fulfilled that purpose I should again be lost. I was always a fatalist, and in that hour of strained body and soul I became something of a mystic. My panic ceased, my lethargy departed, and a more manly resolution took their place. I gripped the shimmel by the head and turned him due left. Now I remembered where the high road ran, and I remembered something else. For it was born in on me that Laputa had fallen into my hands. Without any subtle purpose I had played a master game. He was cut off from his people without a horse, on the wrong side of the high road, which Arkol's men patrolled. Without him the rising would crumble. There might be war, even desperate war. But we should fight against a leaderless foe. If he could only be shepherded to the north his game was over, and at our leisure we could mop up the scattered concentrations. I was now as eager to get back into danger as I had been to get into safety. Arkol must be found and warned, and that at once, or Laputa would slip over to Ananda's crawl under cover of dark. It was a matter of minutes, and on these minutes depended the lives of thousands. It was also a matter of ebbing strength, for with my return to common sense I saw very clearly how near my capital was spent. If I could reach the high road, find Arkol or Arkol's men, and give them my news. I would do my countrymen a service such as no man in Africa could render. But I felt my head swimming. I was swaying crazily in the saddle, and my hands had scarcely the force of a child's. I could only lie limply on the horse's back, clutching at his mane with trembling fingers. I remember that my head was full of a text from the Psalms about not putting one's trust in horses. I prayed that this one horse might be an exception, for he carried more than Caesar and his fortunes. My mind is a blank about these last minutes. In less than an hour after my escape I struck the highway. But it was an hour which in the retrospect unrolls itself into unquiet years. I was dimly conscious of scrambling through a ditch and coming to a ghostly white road. The shimmel swung to the right, and the next I knew. Someone had taken my bridle and was speaking to me. At first I thought it was Laputa and screamed. Then I must have tottered in the saddle, for I felt an arm slip round my middle. The rider uncorked a bottle with his teeth and forced some brandy down my throat. I choked and coughed and then looked up to see a white policeman staring at me. I knew the police by the green shoulder straps. Arkol I managed to croak. For God's sake take me to Arkol. The man whistled shrilly on his fingers, and a second rider came cantering down the road. As he came up I recognized his face but could not put a name to it. Losh it's the lad Crawford, I heard a voice say. Crawford man, do you know mind me at Lorraine Sue Markish? Aitken. The Scotch tongue worked a spell with me. It cleared my wits and opened the gates of my past life. At last I knew I was among my own folk. I must see Arkol. I have news for him. Tremendous news. Oh man, take me to Arkol and ask me no questions. Where is he? Where is he? As it happens he's about two hundred yards off, Aitken said. That light you see at the top of the bray is his camp. They helped me up the road, a man on each side of me. For I could never have kept in the saddle without their support. My message to Arkol kept humming in my head as I tried to put it into words. For I had a horrid fear that my wits would fail me, and I should be dumb when the time came. Also I was in a fever of haste. Every minute I wasted increased Laputa's chance of getting back to the crawl. He had men with him every bit as skillful as Arkol's trackers. Unless Arkol had a big force and the best horses, there was no hope. Often in looking back at this hour I have marveled at the strangeness of my behavior. Here was I just set free from the certainty of a hideous death, and yet I had lost all joy in my security. I was more fevered at the thought of Laputa's escape than I had been at the prospect of David Crawford's end. The next thing I knew I was being lifted off the shimmel by what seemed to me a thousand hands. Then came a glow of light, a great moon in the center of which I stood blinking. I was forced to sit down on a bed while someone gave me a cup of hot tea, far more reviving than any spirits. I became conscious that someone was holding my hands and speaking very slowly and gently. David, the voice said. You're back among friends, my lad. Tell me where have you been? I want Arkol, I moaned. Where is Rattat Swan? There were tears of weakness running down my cheeks. Arkol is here, said the voice. He is holding your hands, David. Quiet, lad, quiet. Your troubles are all over now. I made a great effort, found the eyes to which the voice belonged, and spoke to them. Listen. I stole the collar of Prestor John at Depri's Drift. I was caught in the burg and taken to the crawl. I forget its name, but I had hid the rubies. Yes, the voice said. You hid the rubies. And then? In Kulu wanted them back, so I made a deal with him. I took him to Makudis and gave him the collar. And then he fired at me, and I climbed and climbed. I climbed on a horse, I concluded childishly. I heard the voice say, yes, again inquiringly, but my mind ran off at a tangent. Bayers took guns up into the bulksberg, I cried shrilly. Why the devil don't you do the same? You have the whole Kaffir army in a trap. I saw a smiling face before me. Good lad! Kallus told me you weren't wanting an intelligence. What if we have done that very thing, David? But I was not listening. I was trying to remember the thing I most wanted to say. And that was not about Bayers and his guns. Those were nightmare minutes. A speaker who has lost the thread of his discourse. A soldier who with a bayonet at his throat has forgotten the password. I felt like them and worse. And to crown all I felt my faintness coming back and my head dropping with heaviness. I was in a torment of impotence. Arkel, still holding my hands, brought his face close to mine so that his clear eyes mastered and constrained me. Look at me, Davy. I heard him say. You have something to tell me. And it is very important. It is about Laputa, isn't it? Think, man. You took him to Makudis and gave him the collar. He has gone back with it to Ananda's crawl. Very well. My guns will hold him there. I shook my head. You can't. You may split the army, but you can't hold Laputa. He will be over the elephants before you fire a shot. We will hunt him down before he crosses. And if not, we will catch him at the railway. For God's sake, hurry, then, I cried. In an hour he will be over it and back in the crawl. But the river is a long way. River? I repeated hazily. What river? The Lataba is not the place. It is the road, I mean. Arkol's hands closed firmly on my wrists. You left Laputa at Makudis and rode here without stopping? That would take you an hour. Had Laputa a horse? Yes, but I took it, I stammered. You can see it behind me. Arkol dropped my hands and stood up straight. By God we've got him, he said. And he spoke to his companions. A man turned and ran out of the tent. Then I remembered what I wanted to say. I struggled from the bed and put my hands on his shoulders. Laputa is on our side of the high road. Cut him off from his men and drive him north, north, away up to the Ruhrrand. Never mind the Volkberg and the guns, for they can wait. I tell you Laputa is the rising, and he has the collar. Without him you can mop up the caffers at your leisure. Line the high road with every man you have, for he must cross it or perish. Oh, hurry, man, hurry! Never mind me. We're saved if we can chibi Laputa till morning. Quick, or I'll have to go myself. The tent emptied, and I lay back on the bed with a dim feeling that my duty was done, and I could rest. Hence forth the affair was in stronger hands than mine. I was so weak that I could not lift my legs up to the bed, but sprawled half on and half off. Utter exhaustion defeats sleep. I was in a fever, and my eyes would not close. I lay and drowsed while it seemed to me that the outside world was full of men and horses. I heard voices in the sound of hoofs and the jingle of bridles. But above all I heard the solid tramp of an army. The whole earth seemed to be full of war. Before my mind was spread the ribbon of the great highway, I saw it run white through the meadows of the plateau, then in a dark corkscrew down the glen of Lataba, then white again through the vast moonlit bush of the plains, till the shanties of Wesselsburg rose at the end of it. It seemed to me to be less a road than a rampart built of shining marble, the great wall of Africa. I saw La Puda come out of the shadows and try to climb it, and always there was the sound of a rifle breach clicking, a summons and a flight. I began to take a keen interest in the game. Down in the bush were the dark figures of the hunted, and on the white wall were my own people, horse, foot, and artillery, the squadrons of our defence. What a general arkel was, and how great a matter had David Crawford kindled. A man came in, I suppose a doctor. He took off my leggings and boots, cutting them from my bleeding feet. But I knew no pain. He felt my pulse and listened to my heart. Then he washed my face and gave me a bowl of hot milk. There must have been a drug in the milk, for I had stairlessly drunk it, before a tide of sleep seemed to flow over my brain. The white rampart faded from my eyes, and I slept. Up to tell is no experience of my own, but the story as I pieced it together afterwards, from talks with Arkel and Aitken. The history of the rising has been compiled. As I write, I see before me on the shelves, two neat blue volumes in which Mr. Alexander Upton, sometimes correspondent of the Times, has told for the edification of posterity, the tale of the war between the planes and the plateau. To him the Kaffir hero is Ambuni, a half-witted Ruffian, whom we afterwards caught and hanged. He mentions Laputa only in a footnote as a renegade Christian who had something to do with fomenting discontent. He considers that the word in Kulu, which he often heard, was a Zulu name for God. Mr. Upton is a picturesque historian. But he knew nothing of the most romantic incident of all. This is the tale of the midnight shepherding of the heir of John, by Arkel and his irregulars. At Bruterstrum, where I was lying unconscious, there were two hundred men of the police. Sixty-three basuto scouts under a man called Stephen, who was half-native in blood and wholly-native in habits, and three commandos of the farmers, each about forty strong. The commandos were really companies of the North Transvaal volunteers, but the old name had been kept and something of the old, loose organization. There were also two foregun batteries of volunteer artillery, but these were out on the western skirts of the Volkberg, following Bayer's historic precedent. Several companies of regulars were on their way from Petersdorp, but they did not arrive till the next day. When they came they went to the Volkberg to join the artillery. Along the berg at strategic points were pickets of police with native trackers, and at Blau Wildebeest Fontaine there was a strong force with two field-guns, for there was some fear of a second kaffir army marching by that place to Enanda's crawl. At Wesselsburg out on the plain there was a big-ish police patrol, and a system of small patrols along the road, with a fair number of basuto-scouts. But the road was picketed, not held, for Arkel's patrols were only a branch of his intelligence department. It was perfectly easy, as I had found myself, to slip across in a gap of the pickets. Laputa would be in a hurry, and therefore he would try to cross at the nearest point. Hence it was Arkel's first business to hold the line between the defile of the Lataba and the camp at Bruterstrum, a detachment of the police who were well mounted galloped at racing speed for the defile, and behind them the rest lined out along the road. The farmers took a line at right angles to the road so as to prevent an escape on the western flank. The basutos were sent into the woods as a sort of advanced post to bring tidings of any movement there. Finally a body of police with native runners at their stirrups rode on to the drift where the road crosses the Lataba. The place is called Main Drift, and you will find it on the map. The natives were first of all to locate Laputa and prevent him getting out on the south side of the Triangle of Hill and Wood between Makudis, the road, and the Lataba. If he failed there he must try to forward the Lataba below the drift and cross the road between the drift and Wesselsburg. Now Arkel had not men enough to watch the whole line, and therefore if Laputa were once driven below the drift he might shift his men further down the road. Consequently it was of the first importance to locate Laputa's whereabouts, and for this purpose the native trackers were sent forward. There was just a chance of capturing him, but Arkel knew too well his amazing veltcraft and great strength of body to build much hope on that. We were none too soon. The advanced men of the police rode into one of the caffers from Enando's Crawl whom Laputa had sent forward to see if the way was clear. In two minutes more he would have been across and out of our power, for we had no chance of overtaking him in the woody ravines of the Lataba. The caffer when he saw us dived back into the grass on the north side of the road which made it clear that Laputa was still there. After that nothing happened for a little. The police reached their drift, and all the road west of that point was strongly held. The flanking commandos joined hands with one of the police posts further north and moved slowly to the scarf of the Burg. They saw nobody, from which Arkel could deduce that his man had gone down the Burg into the forests. Had the basutos been any good at woodcraft we should have had better intelligence. But living in a bare mountain country they are apt to find themselves puzzled in a forest. The best men among the trackers were some renegades of Empephu, who sent back word by some device known only to Arkel, that five caffers were in the woods, a mile north of Main Drift. By this time it was after ten o'clock, and the moon was rising. The five men separated soon after, and the reports became confused. Then Laputa, as the biggest of the five, was located on the banks of the Great Lataba, about two miles below Main Drift. The question was asked to his crossing. Arkel had assumed that he would swim the river and try to get over the road between Main Drift and Wesselsberg. But in this assumption he underrated the shrewdness of his opponent. Laputa knew perfectly well that we had not enough men to patrol the whole countryside. But that the river enabled us to divide the land into two sections and concentrate strongly on one or the other. Accordingly he left the Great Lataba unforded, and resolved to make a long circuit back to the Berg. One of his caffers swam the river, and when word of this was brought, Arkel began to withdraw his posts further down the road. But as the men were changing, Empephu's fellows got wind of Laputa's turn to the left. And in great haste Arkel countermanded the move and waited in deep perplexity at Main Drift. The salvation of his scheme were the farmers on the scarf of the Berg. They lit fires and gave Laputa the notion of a great army. Instead of going up the glen of the Cudi, or the Let Satella, he bore away to the north or the valley of the Klein Lataba. The pace at which he moved must have been amazing. He had a great physique, hard as nails from long traveling. And in his own eyes he had an empire at stake. When I look at the map and see the journey, which, with vast fatigue, I completed from Dupri's Drift to Makuti's, and then look at the huge spaces of country over which Laputa's legs took him on that night, I am lost in admiration of the man. About midnight he must have crossed the Let Satella. Here he made a grave blunder. If he had tried the Berg by one of the faces, he might have got on to the Plateau and been at Inanda's crawl by the dawning. But he overestimated the size of the commandos and held on to the north, where he thought there would be no defense. About one o'clock, Arco, tired of inaction and conscious that he had misread Laputa's tactics, resolved on a bold stroke. He sent half his police to the Berg to reinforce the commandos, bidding them get in to touch with the post at Blauwildebeest Fontaine. A little after two o'clock a diversion occurred, and Rikish succeeded in crossing the road three miles east of Main Drift. He had probably left the crawl early in the night and had tried to cross further west, but had been deterred by the patrols. East of Main Drift, where the police were fewer, he succeeded. But he had not gone far till he was discovered by the Basuto Scouts. The find was reported to Arco, who guessed at once who this traveller was. He dared not send out any of his white men, but he bade a party of the Scouts follow the Portuguese trail. They shadowed him to Dupri's Drift, where he crossed the Latava. There he lay down by the roadside to sleep, while they kept him company. A hard fellow, and Rikish, was, for he could slumber peacefully on the very scene of his murder. Don found Laputa at the head of the Klein Latava Glen, not far from Impefu's Crawl. He got food at a hut and set off at once up the wooded hill above it, which is a promontory of the plateau. By this time he must have been weary. Or he would not have blundered as he did right into a post of the farmers. He was within an ace of capture, and to save himself was forced back from the scarf. He seems to judge from reports to have gone a little way south in the thick timber, and then to have turned north again in the direction of Blau Wildebist Fontaine. After that his movements are obscure. He was seen on the Klein Lobongo, but the sight of the post at Blau Wildebist Fontaine must have convinced him that a Korhan could not escape that way. Next we heard of him was that he had joined in Rikish. After daybreak Arkol, having got his reports from the plateau and knowing roughly the direction in which Laputa was shaping, decided to advance his lines. The farmers reinforced by three more commandos from the Petersdorp district. Still held the plateau, but the police were now on the line of the Great Latava. It was Arkol's plan to hold that river and the long neck of land between it and the Lobongo. His force was hourly increasing, and his mounted men would be able to prevent any escape on the flank to the east of Wesselsberg. So it happened that while Laputa was being driven east from the Burg, and Rikish was travelling north, and their lines intersected. I should like to have seen the meeting. It must have told Laputa what had always been in the Portuguese heart. In Rikish, I fancy, was making for the cave in the Rururand. Laputa, so far as I can guess at his mind, had a plan for getting over the Portuguese border. Fetching a wide circuit and joining his men at any of the concentrations between there and Amsterdam, the two were seen at midday going down the road which leads from Blauval de Vista Fontaine to the Lobombo. Then they struck Arkol's new front, which stretched from the Lataba to the Lobongo. This drove them north again and forced them to swim the latter stream, from there to the eastern extremity of the Rururand, which is the Portuguese frontier. The country is open and rolling, with a thin light scrub in the hollows. It was bad cover for the fugitives, as they found to their cost. For Arkol had purposely turned his police into a flying column. They no longer held a line, they scoured a country. Only Laputa's incomparable beltcraft and great bodily strength prevented the two from being caught in half an hour. They doubled back, swam the Lobongo again, and got into the thick bush on the north side of the Blauval de Vista Fontaine road. The basuto scouts were magnificent in the open, but in the cover they were again at fault. Laputa and Enriquech fairly baffled them, so that the pursuit turned to the west in the belief that the fugitives had made for Majinja's crawl. In reality they had recrossed the Lobongo and were making for Umphilos. All this I heard afterwards, but in the meantime I lay in Arkol's tent in deep unconsciousness. While my enemies were being chased like partridges, I was reaping the fruits of four days' toil and terror. The hunters had become the hunted. The wheel had come full circle, and the woes of David Crawford were being abundantly avenged. I slept till midday of the next day. When I awoke the hot noontide sun had made the tent like an oven. I felt better, but very stiff and sore, and I had a most ungovernable thirst. There was a pail of water with a tin panicin' beside the tent pole, and out of this I drank repeated drafts. Then I lay down again, for I was still very weary. But my second sleep was not like my first. It was haunted by wild nightmares. No sooner had I closed my eyes than I began to live and move in a fantastic world. The whole bush of the plains lay before me, and I watched it as if from some viewpoint in the clouds. It was midday, and the sandy patches shimmered under a haze of heat. I saw odd little movements in the bush, a buck's head raised, a pail stalking solemnly in the long grass, a big crocodile rolling off a mud-bank in the river, and then I saw quite clearly Laputa's figure going east. In my sleep I did not think about Arkol's maneuvers. My mind was wholly set upon Laputa. He was walking wearily, yet at a good pace, and his head was always turning like a wild creature snuffing the wind. There was something with him, a shapeless shadow, which I could not see clearly. His neck was bare, but I knew well that the collar was in his pouch. He stopped, turned west, and I lost him. The bush world for a space was quite silent, and I watched it eagerly, as an aeronaut would watch the ground for a descent. For a long time I could see nothing. Then in a wood nearer river there seemed to be a rustling. Some guinea fowl flew up as if startled, and a stem-box scurried out. I knew that Laputa must be there. Next as I looked at the river I saw a head swimming. Nay, I saw two, one some distance behind the other. The first man landed on the far bank, and I recognized Laputa. The second was a slight short figure, and I knew it was in Rikish. I remember feeling very glad that these two had come together. It was certain now that in Rikish would not escape. Either Laputa would find out the truth and kill him, or I would come up with him and have my revenge. In any case he was outside the kaffir pale, adventuring on his own. I watched the two till they halted near a ruined building. Surely this was the store I had built at Umphalos. The thought gave me a horrid surprise. Laputa and in Rikish were on their way to the Rurorand. I woke with a start to find my forehead damp with sweat. There was some fever on me, I think, for my teeth were chattering. Very clear in my mind was the disquieting thought that Laputa and in Rikish would soon be in the cave. One of two things must happen. Either in Rikish would kill Laputa, get the collar of rubies, and be in the wilds of Mozambique before I could come up with his trail. Or Laputa would outwit him and have the handling himself of the treasure of gold and diamonds which had been laid up for the rising. If he thought there was a risk of defeat, I knew he would send my gems to the bottom of the Lobongo, and all my weary work would go for nothing. I had forgotten all about patriotism. In that hour the fate of the country was nothing to me, and I got no satisfaction from the thought that Laputa was severed from his army. My one idea was that the treasure would be lost, the treasure for which I had risked my life. There is a kind of courage which springs from bitter anger and disappointment. I had thought that I had bankrupted my spirit, but I found that there was a new passion in me to which my past sufferings taught no lesson. My uneasiness would not let me rest a moment longer. I rose to my feet holding on by the bed and staggered to the tent pole. I was weak, but not so very weak, that I could not make one last effort. It maddened me that I should have done so much and yet fail at the end. From a nail on the tent pole hung a fragment of looking-glass which Archole used for shaving. I caught a glimpse of my face in it, white and haggard and lined with blue bags below the eyes. The doctor the night before had sponged it, but he had not got rid of all the stains of travel. In particular there was a faint splash of blood on the left temple. I remembered that this was what I had got from the basin of goat's blood that night in the cave. I think that the sight of that splash determined me. Whether I willed it or not, I was sealed of Laputa's men. I must play the game to the finish, or never again no peace of mind on earth. These last four days had made me very old. I found a pair of Archole's boots, roomy with much wearing, into which I thrust my bruised feet. Then I crawled to the door and shouted for a boy to bring my horse. A basuto appeared, and awed by my appearance went off in a hurry to see to the shimmel. It was late afternoon, about the same time of day as had yesterday seen me escaping from Makuti's. The brooder-stream camp was empty, though sentinels were posted at the approaches. I beckoned the only white man I saw and asked where Archole was. He told me that he had no news but added that the patrols were still on the road, as far as Wesselsburg. From this I gathered that Archole must have gone far out into the bush in his chase. I did not want to see him. Above all, I did not want him to find Laputa. It was my private business that I rode on, and I asked for no allies. Somebody brought me a cup of thick coffee, which I could not drink, and helped me into the saddle. The shimmel was fresh and kicked freely as I cantered off the grass into the dust of the high road. The whole world, I remember, was still and golden in the sunset. Chapter 20 My last sight of the reverend John Laputa. It was dark before I got into the gorge of the Lataba. I passed many patrols, but few spoke to me, and none tried to stop me. Some may have known me, but I think it was my face and figure which tied their tongues. I must have been pale as death, with tangled hair and fever burning in my eyes. Also on my left temple was the splash of blood. At main drift I found a big body of police holding the Ford. I splashed through and stumbled into one of their campfires. A man questioned me and told me that Archole had got his quarry. He's dead, they say. They shot him out on the hills, when he was making for the Limpopo. But I knew that this was not true. It was burned on my mind that Laputa was alive. Nay was waiting for me, and that it was God's will that we should meet in the cave. A little later I struck the track of the Cafer's march. There was a broad trampled way through the bush. And I followed it, for it led to Depri's drift. All this time I was urging the shimmel with all the vigor I had left in me. I had quite lost any remnant of fear. There were no terrors left for me either from nature or man. At Depri's drift I rode the Ford without a thought of crocodiles. I looked classically at the spot wherein Rikish had slain the keeper, and I had stolen the rubies. There was no interest or imagination lingering in my dull brain. My nerves had suddenly become things of stolid, untempered iron. Each landmark I passed was noted down as one step nearer to my object. At Umphalos I had not the leisure to do more than glance at the shell which I had built. I think I had forgotten all about that night when I lay in the cellar and heard Laputa's plans. Indeed my doings of the past days were all hazy and trivial in my mind. I only saw one sight clearly. Two men, one tall and black, the other little and sallow, slowly creeping nearer to the rur around, and myself, a midget on a horse, spurring far behind through the bush on their trail. I saw the picture as continuously and clearly as if I had been looking at a scene on the stage. There was only one change in the setting. The three figures seemed to be gradually closing together. I had no exhilaration in my quest. I do not think I had even much hope, for something had gone numb and cold in me and killed my youth. I told myself that treasure hunting was an enterprise accursed of God and that I should most likely die. That Laputa and Enriquech would die I was fully certain. The three of us would leave our bones to bleach among the diamonds, and in a little the prestor's collar would glow amid a heap of human dust. I was quite convinced of all this and quite apathetic. It really did not matter so long as I came up with Laputa and Enriquech and settled scores with them. That mattered everything in the world, for it was my destiny. I had no means of knowing how long I took. But it was after midnight before I passed Umbulos. And ere I got to the room around there was a fluttering of dawn in the east. I must have passed east of Archoles' men who were driving the bush towards Maginges. I had ridden the night down and did not feel so very tired. My horse was stumbling, but my own limbs scarcely pained me. To be sure I was stiff and nervous as if hewn out of wood. But I had been as bad when I left Bruderström. I felt as if I could go on riding to the end of the world. At the brink of the bush I dismounted and turned the shimmel loose. I had brought no halter and I left him to graze and roll. The light was sufficient to let me see the great rock face rising in a tower of dim purple. The sky was still picked out with stars but the moon had long gone down and the east was flushing. I marched up the path to the cave, very different from the timid being who had walked the same road three nights before. Then my terrors were all to come. Now I had conquered terror and seen the other side of fear. I was centuries older. But beside the path lay something which made me pause. It was a dead body and the head was turned away from me. I did not need to see the face to know who it was. There had been only two men in my vision and one of them was immortal. I stopped and turned the body over. There was no joy in my heart. None of the lust of satisfied vengeance or slaked hate. I had forgotten about the killing of my dog and all the rest of Enrique's doings. It was only with curiosity that I looked down on the dead face, swollen and livid in the first light of morning. The man had been strangled. His neck, as we see in Scotland, was thrawn. And that was why he had lain on his back, yet with his face turned away from me. He had been dead probably since before midnight. I looked closer and saw that there was blood on his shirt and hands, but no wound. It was not his blood but some others. Then a few feet off on the path I found a pistol with two chambers empty. What had happened was very plain. Enrique had tried to shoot Laputa at the entrance of the cave for the sake of the collar and the treasure within. He had wounded him, gravely I thought, to judge from the amount of blood. But the quickness and marksmanship of the Portuguese had not availed to save his life from those terrible hands. After two shots Laputa had got hold of him and choked his life out as easily as a man twists a partridge's neck. Then he had gone into the cave. I saw the marks of blood on the road and hastened on. Laputa had been hours in the cave. Enough to work havoc with the treasure. He was wounded, too, and desperate. Probably he had come to the rur around looking for sanctuary and rest for a day or two. But if Enrique had shot straight he might find a safer sanctuary and a longer rest. For the third time in my life I pushed up the gully between the straight high walls of rock and heard from the heart of the hills the thunder of the imprisoned river. There was only the faintest gleam of light in the cleft but it suffice to show me that the way to the cave was open. The hidden turnstile in the right wall stood ajar. I entered and carelessly swung it behind me. The gates clashed into place with a finality which told me that they were firmly shut. I did not know the secret of them. So how should I get out again? These things troubled me less than the fact that I had no light at all now. I had to go on my knees to ascend the stair, and I could feel that the steps were wet. It must be Laputa's blood. Next I was out on the gallery which skirted the chasm. The sky above me was growing pale with dawn and far below the tossing waters were fretted with light. A light fragrant wind was blowing on the hills, and a breath of it came down the funnel. I saw that my hands were all bloody with the stains on the steps, and I rubbed them on the rock to clean them. Without a tremor I crossed the stone slab over the gorge and plunged into the dark alley which led to the inner chamber. As before there was a light in front of me, but this time it was a pinpoint and not the glare of many torches. I felt my way carefully by the walls of the passage, though I did not really fear anything. It was by the stopping of these lateral walls that I knew I was in the cave, for the place had only one single speck of light. The falling wall of water stood out gray-green and ghostly on the left, and I noticed that higher up it was lit as if from the open air. There must be a great funnel in the hillside in that direction. I walked a few paces and then I made out that the spark in front was a lantern. My eyes were getting used to the half light and I saw what was beside the lantern. Laputa knelt on the ashes of the fire which the keeper had kindled three days before. He knelt before and half leaned on, a rude altar of stone. The lantern stood by him on the floor and its faint circle lit something which I was not prepared for. Blood was welling from his side and spreading in a dark pool over the ashes. I had no fear, only a great pity. Pity for lost romance. For vain endeavor. For fruitless courage. Greeting in Kulu, I said in kaffir, as if I had been one of his endunas. He turned his head and slowly and painfully rose to his feet. The place it was clear was lit from without, and the daylight was growing. The wall of the river had become a sheet of jewels. Passing from Pellucid Diamond above to Translucent Emerald below, a dusky twilight sought out the extreme corners of the cave. Laputa's tall figure stood swaying above the white ashes, his hand pressed to his side. "'Who is it?' he said, looking at me with blind eyes. "'It is the storekeeper from Umphalos,' I answered. "'The storekeeper of Umphalos,' he repeated. "'God has used the weak things of the world to confound the strong. A king dies because a peddler is troublesome. "'What do they call you, man? You deserve to be remembered.' I told him, David Crawford. "'Crawford,' he repeated. "'You have been the little reef on which a great vessel has foundered. You stole the collar and cut me off from my people. And then when I was weary, the Portuguese killed me. "'No,' I cried. "'It was not me. You trusted in Rikish, and you got your fingers on his neck too late. Don't say I didn't warn you. You warned me, and I will repay you. I will make you rich, Crawford. You are a traitor and want money. I am a king and want a throne. But I am dying, and there will be no more kings in Africa. The mention of riches did not thrill me as I had expected. But the last words awakened a wild regret. I was hypnotized by the man. To see him going out was like seeing the fall of a great mountain. He stretched himself gasping, and in the glowing light I could see how broken he was. His cheeks were falling in, and his somber eyes had shrunk back in their sockets. He seemed an old, worn man standing there among the ashes, while the blood, which he made no effort to staunch, trickled down his side till it dripped on the floor. He had ceased to be the Kafer King or the Christian minister, or indeed any one of his former parts. Death was stripping him to his elements, and the man Laputa stood out beyond and above the characters he had played. Something strange and great and moving, and terrible. We met for the first time three days ago, he said, and now you will be the last to see the Inkulu. Umphalos was not our first meeting, said I. Do you mind the Sabbath eight years since when you preached in the Free Kirk at Kirk Capel? I was the boy you chased from the shore, and I flung the stone that blacked your eye. Besides, I came out from England with you and in Rikish, and I was in the boat which took you from Durban to Delagoe Bay. You and I have been long acquainted, Mr. Laputa. It is the hand of God, he said solemnly. Your fate has been twisted with mine. And now you will die with me. I did not understand this talk about dying. I was not mortally wounded like him, and I did not think Laputa had the strength to kill me even if he wished. But my mind was so impassive that I scarcely regarded his words. I will make you rich, he cried. Crawford, the storekeeper, will be the richest man in Africa. We are scattered, and our wealth is another's. He shall have the gold and the diamonds. All but the collar, which goes with me. He staggered into a dark recess. One of many in the cave, and I followed him. There were boxes there, tea chests, cartridge cases, and old brass-ribbed Portuguese coffers. Laputa had keys at his belt and unlocked them. His fingers fumbling with weakness. I peered in and saw gold coin and little bags of stones. Money and diamonds, he cried. Once it was the war chest of a king, and now it will be the heart of a traitor. No, by the Lord, the traitor's places with the terrible ones. An arm shot out and my shoulder was fiercely gripped. You stole my horse. That is why I am dying. But for you, I and my army would be over the elephants. I am going to kill you, Crawford, and his fingers closed in to my shoulder blades. Still I was unperturbed. No, you are not. You cannot. You have tried to and failed. I am loaded and reekish, and he is lying dead outside. I am in God's keeping and cannot die before my time. I do not know if he heard me, but at any rate, the murderous fit past. His hand fell to his side and his great figure tottered out into the cave. He seemed to be making for the river. But he turned and went through the door I had entered by. I heard him slipping in the passage and then there was a minute of silence. Suddenly there came a grinding sound, followed by the kind of muffled splash which a stone makes when it falls into a deep well. I thought Laputa had fallen into the chasm, but when I reached the door his swaying figure was coming out of the corridor. Then I knew what he had done. He had used the remnant of his giant strength to break down the bridge of stone across the gorge, and so cut off my retreat. I really did not care. Even if I had got over the bridge I should probably have been foiled by the shut turnstile. I had quite forgotten the meaning of fear of death. I found myself giving my arm to the man who had tried to destroy me. I have laid up for you treasure in heaven, he said. Your earthly treasure is in the boxes, soon you will be seeking incorruptible jewels in the deep, deep water. It is cool and quiet down there, and you forget the hunger and pain. The man was getting very near his end. The madness of despair came back to him, and he flung himself among the ashes. We are going to die together, Crawford, he said. God has twined our threads, and there will be only one cutting. Tell me what has become of my army. Arkle has guns on the bulk-burg, I said. They must submit or perish. I have other armies. No, no, they are nothing. They will all wander and blunder, and fight and be beaten. There is no leader anywhere. And I am dying. There was no gain saying the signs of death. I asked him if he would like water, but he made no answer. His eyes were fixed on vacancy, and I thought I could realize something of the bitterness of that great regret. For myself I was as cold as a stone. I had no exaltation of triumph, still less any fear of my own fate. I stood silent, the half-remorseful spectator of a fall like the fall of Lucifer. I would have taught the world wisdom. Laputa was speaking English in a strange, thin, abstracted voice. There would have been no king like me since Charlemagne, and he strayed into Latin, which I have been told since was an adaptation of the epitaph of Charles the Great. Sub hoc conditorio, he crooned. Situm est corpus Ioannis. Magni et orthodoxy imperatoris, cui imperium africanum, nobilliter ampliavit et multus per annus mundum felicita rexit. He must have chosen this epitaph long ago. He lay for a few seconds with his head on his arms, his breast heaving with agony. No one will come after me. My race is doomed. And in a little they will have forgotten my name. I alone could have saved them. Now they go the way of the rest, and the warriors of John become drudges and slaves. Something clicked in his throat. He gasped and fell forward. And I thought he was dead, then he struggled as if to rise. I ran to him, and with all my strength aided him to his feet. Unarmed arrows he cried. The long day's task is done. With the strange power of a dying man he tore off his leopard skin and belt till he stood stark as on the night when he had been crowned. From his pouch he took the prestor's collar. Then he staggered to the brink of the chasm where the wall of green water dropped into the dark depth below. I watched, fascinated. As with the weak hands of a child he twined the rubies round his neck and joined the clasp. Then with a last effort he stood straight up on the brink. His eyes raised to the belt of daylight from which the water fell. The light caught the great gems and called fires from them. The flames of the funeral pyre of a king. Once more his voice restored for a moment to its old vigor. Rang out through the cave above the din of the cascade. His words were those which the keeper had used three nights before. With his hands held high and the collar burning on his neck he cried. The snake returns to the house of its birth. Come, he cried to me. The air of John is going home. Then he leapt into the gulf. There was no sound of falling so great was the rush of water. He must have been whirled into the open below where the bridge used to be and then swept into the underground deeps where the lobongo drowses were fifty miles. Far from human quest he sleeps his last sleep and perchance on a fragment of bone washed into a crevice of rock there may hang the jewels that once gleamed in Sheba's hair. 21 I climbed the crags a second time. I remember that I looked over the brink into the yeasty abyss with a mind hovering between perplexity and tears. I wanted to sit down and cry, why I did not know, except that some great thing had happened. My brain was quite clear as to my own position. I was shut in, in this place, with no chance of escape and with no food. In a little I must die of starvation or go mad and throw myself after Laputa, and yet I did not care a rush. My nerves had been tried too greatly in the past week. Now I was comatose and beyond hoping or fearing. I sat for a long time watching the light play on the fretted sheet of water and wondering where Laputa's body had gone. I shivered and wished he had not left me alone, for the darkness would come in time and I had no matches. After a little I got tired of doing nothing and went groping among the treasure chests. One or two were full of coin, British sovereigns, Kruger sovereigns, Napoleons, Spanish and Portuguese gold pieces, and many older coins ranging back to the Middle Ages and even to the Ancients. In one handful there was a splendid gold stator, and in another a piece of Antoninus Pius. The treasure had been collected for many years in many places. Contributions of chiefs from ancient hordes as well as the cash received from IDB. I untied one or two of the little bags of stones and poured the contents into my hands. Most of the diamonds were small, such as a laborer might secrete on his person. The larger ones, and some were very large, were as a rule discolored. They were looking more like big cairngorms. But one or two bags had big stones which even my inexperienced eye told me were of the purest water. There must be some new pipe, I thought, for these could not have been stolen from any known mine. After that I sat on the floor again and looked at the water. It exercised a mesmeric influence on me, soothing all care. I was quite happy to wait for death, for death had no meaning to me. My hate and fury were both lulled into a trance, since the passive is the next stage to the overwrought. It must have been full day outside now, for the funnel was bright with sunshine, and even the dim cave caught a reflected radiance. As I watched the river I saw a bird flash downward, skimming the water. It turned into the cave and fluttered among its dark recesses. I heard its wings beating the roof as it sought wildly for an outlet. It dashed into the spray of the cataract, and escaped again into the cave. For maybe twenty minutes it fluttered, till at last it found the way it had entered by. With a dart it sped up the funnel of rock into light and freedom. I had begun to watch the bird in idle lassitude. I ended in keen excitement. The sight of it seemed to take a film from my eyes. I realized the zest of liberty, the passion of life again. I felt that beyond this dim underworld there was the great joyous earth, and I longed for it. I wanted to live now. My memory cleared, and I remembered all that had befallen me during the last few days. I had played the chief part in the whole business, and I had won. Laputa was dead, and the treasure was mine, while Arkel was crushing the rising at his ease. I had only to be free again, to be famous and rich. My hopes had returned, but with them came my fears. What have I could not escape? I must perish miserably by degrees, shut in the heart of a hill, though my friends were out for rescue. In place of my former lethargy I was now in a fever of unrest. My first care was to explore the way I had come. I ran down the passage to the chasm which the slab of stone had spanned. I had been right in my guess, for the thing was gone. Laputa was in truth a titan who in the article of death could break down a bridge which would have taken any three men an hour to shift. The gorge was about seven yards wide, too far to risk a jump, and the cliff fell sheer and smooth to the imprisoned waters two hundred feet below. There was no chance of circuiting it, for the wall was as smooth as if it had been chiseled. The hand of man had been at work to make the sanctuary inviolable. It occurred to me that sooner or later Archul would track Laputa to this place. He would find the blood stains in the gully. But the turnstile would be shut, and he would never find the trick of it. Nor could he have any caffers with him who knew the secret of the place of the snake. Still, if Archul knew I was inside, he would find some way to get to me, even though he had to dynamite the curtain of rock. I shouted, but my voice seemed to be drowned in the roar of the water. It made but a fresh chord in the wild orchestra, and I gave up hopes in that direction. Very dolefully I returned to the cave. I was about to share the experience of all treasure hunters. To be left with jewels galore and not a bite to sustain life. The thing was too commonplace to be endured. I grew angry and declined, so obvious a fate. Exxon Plan Mach, I told myself in the old Dutchman's words, I had come through worse dangers and away I should find. To starve in the cave was no ending for David Crawford. Far better to join Laputa in the depths in a manly hazard for liberty. My obstinacy and irritation cheered me. What had become of the lackluster young fool who had mooned here a few minutes back. Now I was as tense and strung for effort as the day I had ridden from Blauwilderbeestfontein to Umbulos. I felt like a runner in the last lap of the race. For four days I had lived in the midst of terror and darkness. Daylight was only a few steps ahead. Daylight and youth restored, and a new world. There were only two outlets from that cave. The way I had come, and the way the river came. The first was closed, the second a sheer staring impossibility. I had been into every niche and cranny, and there was no sign of a passage. I sat down on the floor and looked at the wall of water. It fell as I have already explained, in a solid sheet, which made up the whole of the wall of the cave. Higher than the roof of the cave I could not see what happened, except that it must be the open air, for the sun was shining on it. The water was about three yards distant from the edge of the cave's floor. But it seemed to me that high up, level with the roof, this distance decreased to little more than a foot. I could not see what the walls of the cave were like, but they looked smooth and difficult. Supposing I managed to climb up to the level of the roof close to the water, how on earth was I to get outside onto the wall of the ravine? I knew from my old days of rock climbing what a complete obstacle the overhang of a cave is. While I looked, however, I saw a thing which I had not noticed before. On the left side of the fall the water slews down in a sheet to the extreme edge of the cave, almost sprinkling the floor with water. But on the right side the force of water was obviously weaker. And a little short of the level of the cave roof there was a spike of rock which slightly broke the fall. The spike was covered, but the covering was shallow, for the current flowed from it in a rose-shaped spray. If a man could get to that spike and could get a foot on it without being swept down, it might be possible, just possible, to do something with the wall of the chasm above the cave. Of course I knew nothing about the nature of that wall. It might be as smooth as a polished pillar. The result of these cogitations was that I decided to prospect the right wall of the cave close to the waterfall. But first I went rummaging in the back part to see if I could find anything to assist me. In one corner there was a rude cupboard with some stone and metal vessels. Here, too, were the few domestic utensils of the dead keeper. In another were several locked coffers on which I could make no impression. There were the treasure chests, too, but they held nothing save treasure. The gold and diamonds were no manner of use to me. Other odds and ends I found. Spears, a few skins, and a broken and notched axe. I took the axe in case there might be cutting to do. Then at the back of a bin my hand struck something which brought the blood to my face. It was a rope, an old one, but still in fair condition, forty or fifty feet long. I dragged it out into the light and straightened its kinks. With this something could be done, assuming I could cut my way to the level of the roof. I began the climb in my bare feet. And at the beginning it was very bad. Except on the very edge of the abyss there was scarcely a handhold. Possibly in floods the waters may have swept the wall in a curve, smoothing down the inner part and leaving the outer to its natural roughness. There was one place where I had to hang on by a very narrow crack, while I scraped with the axe a hollow for my right foot. And then, about twelve feet from the ground, I struck the first of the iron pegs. To this day I cannot think what these pegs were for. They were old square-headed things which had seen the wearer of centuries. They cannot have been meant to assist a climber, for the dwellers of the cave had clearly never contemplated this means of egress. Perhaps they had been used for some kind of ceremonial curtain in a dim past. They were rusty and frail, and one of them came away in my hand. But for all that they marvelously assisted my ascent. I had been climbing slowly, doggedly and carefully. My mind wholly occupied with the task. And almost before I knew, I found my head close under the roof of the cave. It was necessary now to move towards the river, and the task seemed impossible. I could see no footholds save two frail pegs, and in the corner between the wall and the roof was a rough arch, too wide for my body to jam itself in. Just below the level of the roof, say two feet, I saw the submerged spike of rock. The waters raged around it, and could not have been more than an inch deep on the top. If I could only get my foot on that, I believed I could avoid being swept down, and stand up and reach for the wall above the cave. But how to get to it? It was no good delaying, for my frail holds might give at any moment. In any case, I would have the moral security of the rope. So I passed it through a fairly staunch pin close to the roof, which had an upward tilt that almost made a ring of it. One end of the rope was round my body, the other was loose in my hand, and I paid it out as I moved. Moral support is something. Very gingerly I crawled like a fly along the wall. My fingers now clutching at a tiny knob, now clawing at a crack which did little more than hold my nails. It was all hopeless insanity, and yet somehow I did it. The rope and the nearness of the roof gave me confidence and balance. Then the holds ceased altogether a couple of yards from the water. I saw my spike of rock a trifle below me. There was nothing for it but to risk all on a jump. I drew the rope out of the hitch, twined the slack round my waist, and leaped for the spike. It was like throwing oneself on a line of spears. The solid wall of water hurled me back and down. But as I fell my arms closed on the spike. There I hung, while my feet were towed outwards by the volume of the stream, as if they had been dead leaves. I was half stunned by the shock of the drip on my head. But I kept my wits and presently got my face outside the falling sheet, and breathed. To get to my feet and stand on the spike, while all the fury of water was plucking at me, was the hardest physical effort I have ever made. It had to be done very circumspectly, for a slip would send me into the abyss. If I moved an arm or leg an inch too near the terrible dropping wall, I knew I should be plucked from my hold. I got my knees on the outer face of the spike, so that all my body was removed as far as possible from the impact of water. Then I began to pull myself slowly up. I could not do it. If I got my feet on the rock, the effort would bring me too far into the water, and that meant destruction. I saw this clearly in a second while my wrists were cracking with the strain. But if I had a wall behind me, I could reach back with one hand and get what we call in Scotland, a still. I knew there was a wall, but how far I could not judge. The perpetual hammering of the stream had confused my wits. It was a horrible moment, but I had to risk it. I knew that if the wall was too far back I should fall. For I had to let my weight go till my hand fell on it. Delay would do no good, so with a prayer I flung my right hand back while my left clutched the spike. I found a wall. It was only a foot or two beyond my reach. With a heave I had my foot on the spike. And turning had both hands on the opposite wall. There I stood, straddling like a colossus over a waste of white waters. With a cave floor far below me in the gloom and my discarded axe lying close to a splash of Laputa's blood, the spectacle made me giddy, and I had to move on or fall. The wall was not quite perpendicular. But as far as I could see a slope of about sixty degrees. It was ribbed and terraced pretty fully. But I could see no ledge within reach which offered standing-room. Once more I tried the moral support of the rope. And as well as I could dropped a noose on the spike which might hold me if I fell. Then I boldly embarked on a hand traverse, pulling myself along a little ledge till I was right in the angle of the fall. Here happily the water was shallower and less violent. And with my legs up to the knees in foam I managed to scramble into a kind of corner. Now at last I was on the wall of the gully and above the cave. I had achieved by amazing luck one of the most difficult of all mountaineering operations. I had got out of a cave to the wall above. My troubles were by no means over, for I found the cliff most difficult to climb. The great rush of the stream dizzyed my brain. The spray made the rock damp and the slope steepened as I advanced. At one overhang my shoulder was almost in the water again. All this time I was climbing doggedly, with terror somewhere in my soul and hope lighting but a feeble lamp. I was very distrustful of my body, for I knew that at any moment my weakness might return. The fever of three days of peril and stress is not allayed by one night's rest. By this time I was high enough to see that the river came out of the ground about fifty feet short of the lip of the gully and some ten feet beyond where I stood. Above the hole, whence the waters issued, was a loose slope of slabs and screes. It looked an ugly place. But there I must go, where the rock wall I was on was getting unscalable. I turned the corner a foot or two above the water and stood on a slope of about fifty degrees, running from the parapet of stone to a line beyond which blue sky appeared. At the first step I took the place began to move. A boulder crashed into the fall and tore down into the abyss with a shattering thunder. I lay flat and clutched desperately at every hold. But I had loosened an avalanche of earth, and not till my feet were sprayed by the water did I get a grip of firm rock and check my descent. All this frightened me horribly with the kind of despairing, angry fear which I had suffered at Bruterstrom, when I dreamed that the treasure was lost. I could not bear the notion of death when I had won so far. After that I advanced, not by steps, but by inches. I felt more poised and pinnacled in the void than when I had stood on the spike of rock, for I had a substantial hold neither for foot nor hand. It seemed weeks before I made any progress away from the lip of the water-hole. I dared not look down but kept my eyes on the slope before me, searching for any patch of ground which promised stability. Once I found a scrog of juniper with firm roots, and this gave me a great lift. A little further, however, I lit on a bank of screes which slipped with me to the right, and I lost most of the ground the bush had gained me. My whole being, I remember, was filled with a devouring passion to be quit of this gully and all that was in it. Then, not suddenly as in romances, but after hard striving and hope long deferred, I found myself on a firm outcrop of weathered stone. In three strides I was on the edge of the plateau. Then I began to run, and at the same time to lose the power of running. I cast one look behind me, and saw a deep cleft of darkness out of which I had climbed. Down in the cave it had seemed light enough, but in the clear sunshine of the top of the gorge looked a very pit of shade. For the first and last time in my life I had vertigo. Fear of falling back, and a mad craze to do it, made me acutely sick. I managed to stumble a few steps forward on the mountain turf, and then flung myself on my face. When I raised my head I was amazed to find it still early morning. The dew was yet on the grass and the sun was not far up the sky. I had thought that my entry into the cave, my time in it, and my escape had taken many hours, whereas at the most they had occupied too. It was little more than dawn, such a dawn as walks only on the hilltops. Before me was the shallow veil with its bracken and sweet grass, and the shining links of the stream and the lock, still gray in the shadow of the beleaguering hills. Here was a fresh clean land, a land for homesteads and orchards and children. All of a sudden I realized that at last I had come out of savagery. The burden of the past days slipped from my shoulders. I felt young again and cheerful and brave. Behind me was the black night and the horrid secrets of darkness. Before me was my own country. For that lock and that bracken might have been on a scotch more. The fresh scent of the air and the whole morning mystery put song into my blood. I remembered that I was not yet twenty. My first care was to kneel there among the bracken and give thanks to my maker, who in very truth had shown me his goodness in the land of the living. After a little I went back to the edge of the cliff. There where the road came out of the bush was the body of Enrikesh, flying scrawled on the sand, with two dismounted riders looking hard at it. I gave a great shout, for in the men I recognized Aitken and the schoolmaster Wardlaw.