Адаптация текста, комментарии и словарь Д. В. Положенцевой

Mr. Hungerton, her father, was the most tactless person on the earth, a good-natured man, but absolutely centered on himself. If anything could have driven me from Gladys, it would have been the thought of such a father-in-law. I am sure that he really believed that I came round to their house three days a week only for the pleasure of his company.

For an hour or more that evening I listened to his monotonous talk about money exchange and debts.

“Imagine,” he cried, “that all the debts in the world were to be paid at once… what would happen then?”

I answered that I should be a ruined man.[1] He jumped from his chair, complained that it was impossible for him to discuss any reasonable subject with me, and ran out of the room to dress for a Masonic meeting.[2]

At last I was alone with Gladys, and the moment of Fate had come! All that evening I had felt like the soldier who awaits the signal which will send him on a hope.

She sat against the red curtain. How beautiful she was! And yet how aloof! We had been friends, quite good friends; but never could I get beyond the same friendship which I might have had with one of my fellow-reporters upon the Gazette – a frank and kind friendship. My nature is all against a woman who is too frank with me. It is no compliment to a man. Where the real feeling begins, shyness and distrust are its companions. It is heritage from old days when love and violence went often hand in hand. The bent head, the sideward eye, the low voice… these, and not the straight gaze and frank reply, are the true signals of passion. Even in my short life I had learned it.

Gladys was full of womanly qualities. Some thought her to be cold and hard; but it was so untrue! That bronzed skin, that raven hair, the large eyes, the full lips… all the signs of passion were there. But I was sadly conscious[3] that up to now I had never found the secret how to conquer her. She could refuse me, but better be a refused lover than an accepted brother.

So I was about to break the silence,[4] when two critical, dark eyes looked at me. Gladys shook her head and smiled with reproof.[5]

“I have a feeling that you are going to propose, Ned. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“How did you know that I was going to propose?” I asked in wonder.

“Don’t women always know? But… Ned, our friendship has been so good and so pleasant! What a pity to spoil it! Don’t you think how splendid it is that a young man and a young woman should be able to talk face to face as we have talked?”

“I don’t know, Gladys. You see, I can talk face to face with anyone. So it does not satisfy me. I want my arms round you, and your head on my breast, and… oh, Gladys…”

“You’ve spoiled everything, Ned,” she said. “Why can’t you control yourself?[6]”

“I can’t. It’s nature. It’s love.”

“Well, I have never felt it.”

“But you must… you, with your beauty, with your soul! Oh, Gladys, you were made for love! You must love!”

“One must wait till it comes.”

“But why can’t you love me, Gladys? Is it my appearance, or what?”

“No it isn’t that,” she said with a smile. “It’s deeper.”

“My character?”

She nodded severely.

“What can I do, Gladys? Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“I’m in love with somebody else,” she said.

I jumped out of my chair.

“It’s nobody in particular,” she explained, laughing at the expression of my face: “only an ideal. I’ve never met the kind of man I mean.”

“Tell me about him. What does he look like?”

“Oh, he might look very much like you.”

“How dear of you to say that! Well, what is it that he does that I don’t do? Just say the word… non-drinking, vegetarian, pilot, theosophist, superman. I’ll have a try at it, Gladys, if you will tell me what would please you.”

She laughed at the flexibility of my character.

“Well, in the first place, I don’t think my ideal would speak like that,” said she. “He would be a harder man, not so ready to adapt himself to a girl. But, above all, he must be a man who could act, who could look Death in the face and have no fear of him, a man of great experiences. It is not a man that I should love, but the glories he had won because they would be reflected upon me!”

She looked so beautiful in her enthusiasm!

“But we don’t usually get the chance of great experiences… at least, I never had the chance. If I did, I should try to take it.”

“But chances are all around you. Remember that young Frenchman who went up last week in a balloon. The wind blew him fifteen hundred miles in twenty-four hours, and he fell in the middle of Russia. That was the kind of man I mean. Think of the woman he loved, and how other women must have envied her! That’s what I should like to be… envied for my man.”

“I’d have done it to please you.”

“But you shouldn’t do it just to please me. You should do it because you can’t help yourself,[7] because it’s natural to you. Now, when you described the Wigan coal explosion last month, could you not have gone down and helped those people?”

“I did.”

“You never said so.”

“There was nothing worth boasting of.”

“I didn’t know.” She looked at me with more interest. “That was brave of you.”

“I had to. If you want to write a good article, you must be where the things are.”

“What a prosaic motive! It seems to take all the romance out of it. But, still, I am glad that you went down that mine. I dare say I am a foolish woman with a young girl’s dreams. And yet it is so real with me, that I cannot help it. If I marry, I do want to marry a famous man!”

“Why should you not?” I cried. “Give me a chance, and see if I will take it! I’ll do something in the world!”

She laughed at my sudden Irish excitement.

“Why not?” she said. “You have everything a man could have… youth, health, strength, education, energy. Now I am glad if it wakens these thoughts in you!”

“And if I…”

Her dear hand rested upon my lips.

“Not another word, Sir! You should have been at the office for evening duty half an hour ago. Some day, perhaps, when you have won your place in the world, we shall talk it over again.”

And so I left her with my heart glowing within me and with the eager determination to find some deed which was worthy of my lady. But who… who in all this world could ever have imagined this incredible deed I was about to take? Was it hardness, was it selfishness, that Gladys should ask me to risk my life for her own glorification? Such thoughts may come in middle age but never when you are twenty three and in the fever of your first love.

I always liked McArdle, the crabbed,[8] old, red-headed news editor, and I hoped that he liked me. Of course, Beaumont was the real boss but he was above and beyond us – we saw him very seldom. And McArdle was his first lieutenant. The old man nodded as I entered the room.

“Well, Mr. Malone, you seem to be doing very well,” he said in his kindly Scottish accent.

I thanked him.

“The article about explosion was excellent. So why did you want to see me?”

“To ask a favour[9]… Do you think, Sir, that you could possibly send me on some mission? I would do my best[10] to get you some good copy.[11]”

“What sort of mission, Mr. Malone?”

“Well, Sir, anything that had adventure and danger in it. The more difficult it was, the better it would suit me.”

“You seem very anxious to lose your life.”

“To justify my life, Sir.”

“Dear me, Mr. Malone, I’m afraid the day for this sort of thing is rather past. There’s no room for romance… Wait a bit, though!” he added, with a sudden smile. “What about exposing a fraud… a modern Munchausen[12]… and making him ridiculous? You could show him as the liar that he is! How does it sound to you?”

“Anything… anywhere… I don’t care.”

McArdle was plunged in thought for some minutes.

“You seem to have, I suppose, animal magnetism, or youthful energy, or something… So why should you not try your luck with Professor Challenger?”

I looked a little startled.

“Challenger!” I cried. “Professor Challenger, the famous zoologist! The man who broke the skull of Blundell, of the Telegraph!”

The news editor smiled grimly.

“Do you mind? Didn’t you say it was adventures you wanted?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered.

“I don’t suppose he can always be so violent as that. You may have better luck, or more tact in handling him.”

“I really know nothing about him,” I said. “I only remember his name in connection with the police-court proceedings, for striking Blundell. I am not very clear yet why I am to interview this gentleman. What else has he done?”

“He went to South America on a expedition two years ago. Came back last year. Had undoubtedly been to South America, but refused to say exactly where. Began to tell his adventures in a vague way but then just shut up like an oyster. Something wonderful happened… or the man’s a great liar. Had some damaged photographs, said to be fakes. Now he attacks anyone who asks questions and kicks reporters downstairs.[13] In my opinion he’s just a maniac with a turn for science. That’s your man, Mr. Malone. Now, go. We’ll see what you can do. You’re big enough to look after yourself.”

I left the office and entered the Savage Club and found the very man I needed. Tarp Henry, of the staff of Nature, a thin, dry, leathery creature, who was full of kindly humanity.

“What do you know of Professor Challenger?” I asked him at once.

“Challenger? He was the man who came with some story from South America.”

“What story?”

“Oh, it was nonsense about some animals he had discovered. I believe he has retracted[14] since. He gave an interview to Reuter’s, and there was such a howl that he saw it wouldn’t do. There were one or two men who were inclined to take him seriously, but he soon removed them.”

“How?”

“Well, by his rudeness and impossible behaviour. There was poor old Wadley, of the Zoological Institute. Wadley sent a message: ‘The President of the Zoological Institute presents his compliments to Professor Challenger, and would take it as a personal favour if he would do them the honour to come to their next meeting.’ The answer was unprintable.”

“Good Lord! Anything more about Challenger?”

“Well, he’s a fanatic.”

“In what particular sphere?”

“There are lots of examples, but the latest is something about Weissmann and Evolution. He had a fearful row about it in Vienna, I believe. There is a translation of the proceedings at our office. Would you like to have a look?”

“It’s just what I need! I have to interview the fellow. I’ll go with you now, if it is not too late.”

Half an hour later I was seated in the newspaper office with a huge tome in front of me, reading the article “Weissmann versus Darwin.” I couldn’t make out a word as if it were written in Chinese, but it was evident that the English Professor had spoken in a very aggressive way, and had thoroughly annoyed his Continental colleagues.

“I wish you could translate it into English for me,” I said, pathetically, to my friend.

“Well, it is a translation.”

“All I need is a single good sentence which conveys some sort of definite human idea. Ah, yes, this one will do. I even seem to understand it. I’ll copy it out. This shall be my link with the terrible Professor.”

“Nothing else I can do?”

“Well, yes; I am going to write to him. If I could use your address it would give atmosphere.”

“Well, that’s my chair and desk. You’ll find paper there.”

It took some time and when it was finished it wasn’t such a bad job. I read it aloud to Tarp Henry.

“DEAR PROFESSOR CHALLENGER,” it said, “As a modest student of Nature, I have always been interested in your speculations, especially about the differences between Darwin and Weissmann…”

“You liar!” murmured Tarp Henry.

“… But there is one sentence in your speech at Vienna, namely: ‘I protest strongly against the insufferable and entirely dogmatic assertion that each separate id is a microcosm possessed of an historical architecture elaborated slowly through the series of generations.’[15] With your permission, I would ask the favour of an interview, as I don’t quite understand it and have certain suggestions which I could only tell you in a personal conversation. With your consent, I trust to have the honour of calling at eleven o’clock the day after tomorrow (Wednesday) morning.

Yours very truly, EDWARD D. MALONE.”

“But what do you mean to do?” Tarp Henry asked.

“To get there. Once I am in his room I may see some variants. If he is a sportsman he will like it.”

“Indeed a sportsman! Chain mail,[16] or an American football suit… that’s what you’ll need. Well, good-bye. I’ll have the answer for you here on Wednesday morning… if he ever answers you. He is a dangerous character. Perhaps it would be best for you if you never heard from the fellow at all.”

However when I called on Wednesday there was a letter with the West Kensington postmark upon it, and my name scrawled across the envelope. The contents were as follows:

“SIR, – I have duly received your note, in which you claim to support my views. You quote an isolated sentence from my lecture, and appear to have some difficulty in understanding it. I should have thought that only a stupid person could have failed to grasp the point, but if it really needs explanation I shall see you at the hour named. As for your suggestions I would have you know that it is not my habit to change my views. You will kindly show the envelope of this letter to my man, Austin, when you call, as he has to take every precaution to protect me from the intrusive people who call themselves ‘journalists’.

Yours faithfully, GEORGE EDWARD CHALLENGER.”

This was the letter that I read aloud to Tarp Henry. His only remark was that I should take along some haemostatic.[17] Some people have such extraordinary sense of humor.

A taxicab took me round in good time for my appointment. It was an imposing house at which we stopped. The door was opened by an odd person of uncertain age. He looked me up and down with a searching light blue eye.

“Expected?” he asked.

“An appointment.” I showed the envelope.

“Right!” He seemed to be a person of few words. I entered and saw a small woman. She was a bright, dark-eyed lady, more French than English in her type.

“One moment,” she said. “You can wait, Austin. May I ask if you have met my husband before?”

“No, madam, I have not had the honour.”

“Then I apologize to you in advance.[18] I must tell you that he is an impossible person… absolutely impossible. Get quickly out of the room if he seems to be violent. Don’t argue with him. Several people have been injured. Afterwards there is a public scandal and it reflects upon me and all of us. I suppose it wasn’t about South America you wanted to see him?”

I could not lie to a lady.

“Dear me! That is the most dangerous subject. You won’t believe a word he says… But don’t tell him so, it makes him very violent. Pretend to believe him. If you find him really dangerous… ring the bell and hold him off until I come. Even at his worst I can usually control him.”

So I was conducted to the end of the passage. I entered the room and found myself face to face with the Professor.

He sat in a chair behind a broad table, which was covered with books, maps, and diagrams. His appearance made me gasp. I was prepared for something strange, but not for so overpowering a personality as this. It was his size which took one’s breath away[19]… His head was enormous, the largest I have ever seen. His hair and beard were bluish-black, the latter was spade-shaped and rippling down over his chest. The eyes were blue-gray under great black eyebrows, very clear, very critical, and very masterful. This and a roaring voice made up my first impression of the notorious Professor Challenger.

“Well?” said he, with a most arrogant stare. “What now?”

“You were good enough to give me an appointment, sir,” said I, producing his envelope.

“Oh, you are the young person who cannot understand plain English, are you? And you approve my conclusions, as I understand?”

“Entirely, sir, entirely!” I was very emphatic.

“Dear me! That strengthens my position very much, does it not? Well, at least you are better than that herd of swine in Vienna.”

“They seem to have behaved outrageously,” said I.

“I assure you that I have no need of your sympathy. Well, sir, let us do what we can to end this visit. You had some comments to make up.”

There was such a brutal directness in his speech which made everything very difficult. Oh, my Irish wits, could they not help me now, when I needed help so sorely? He looked at me with two sharp eyes.

“Come, come!” he rumbled.

“I am, of course, a simple student,” said I, with a smile, “an earnest inquirer. At the same time, it seemed to me that you were a little severe towards your colleagues.”

“Severe? Well… I suppose you are aware,” said he, checking off points upon his fingers, “that the cranial index is a constant factor?”

“Naturally,” said I.

“And that telegony is still doubtful?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And that the germ plasm is different from the parthenogenetic egg?”

“Surely!” I cried.

“But what does that prove?” he asked, in a gentle, persuasive voice.

“Ah, what indeed?” I murmured. “What does it prove?”

“It proves,” he roared, with a sudden blast of fury, “that you are the damned journalist, who has no more science in his head than he has truth in his reports!”

He had jumped to his feet with a mad rage in his eyes. Even at that moment of tension I found time for amazement at the discovery that he was quite a short man, his head not higher than my shoulder.

“Nonsense!” he cried, leaning forward. “That’s what I have been talking to you, sir! Scientific nonsense! Did you think you could play a trick on me? You, with your walnut of a brain? You have played a rather dangerous game, and you have lost it.”

“Look here, sir,” said I, backing to the door and opening it; “you can be as abusive as you like. But there is a limit. You shall not attack me.”

“Shall I not?” He was slowly approaching in a menacing way, “I have thrown several of journalists out of the house. You will be the fourth or fifth. Why should you not follow them?”

I could have rushed for the hall door, but it would have been too disgraceful. Besides, a little glow of righteous anger was springing up within me.

“Keep your hands off, sir. I’ll not stand it.[20]”

“Dear me!” he cried smiling.

“Don’t be such a fool, Professor!” I cried. “What can you hope for? I’m not the man…”

It was at that moment that he attacked me. It was lucky that I had opened the door, or we should have gone through it. We did a Catharine-wheel[21] together down the passage. My mouth was full of his beard, our arms were locked, our bodies intertwined. The watchful Austin had thrown open the hall door. We went down the front steps and rolled apart into the gutter. He sprang to his feet, waving his fists.

“Had enough?” he panted.

“You infernal bully!” I cried, as I gathered myself together.

At that moment a policeman appeared beside us, his notebook in his hand.

“What’s all this? You ought to be ashamed” said the policeman. “Well,” he insisted, turning to me, “what is it, then?”

“This man attacked me,” I said.

“Did you attack him?” asked the policeman.

The Professor breathed hard and said nothing.

“It’s not the first time, either,” said the policeman, severely. “You were in trouble last month for the same thing. Do you give him in charge,[22] sir?”

I softened.

“No,” said I, “I do not. It was my fault. He gave me fair warning.”

The policeman closed his notebook.

“Don’t let us have any more such goings-on,” he said and left.

The Professor looked at me, and there was something humorous in his eyes.

“Come in!” said he. “I’ve not done with you yet.”

I followed him into the house. The man-servant, Austin, closed the door behind us.

Hardly was it shut when Mrs. Challenger ran out of the dining-room. The small woman was furious.

“You brute, George!” she screamed. “You’ve hurt that nice young man.”

“Here he is, safe and sound.[23]”

“Nothing but scandals every week! Everyone hating and making fun of you. You’ve finished my patience. You, a man who should have been Regius Professor at a great University with a thousand students all respecting you. Where is your dignity, George? A ruffian… that’s what you have become!”

“Be good, Jessie.”

“A roaring bully!”

Challenger bellowed with laughter. Suddenly his tone altered.

“Excuse us, Mr. Malone. I called you back for some more serious purpose than to mix you up with our little domestic problems.” He suddenly gave his wife a kiss, which embarrassed me. “Now, Mr. Malone,” he continued, “this way, if you please.”

We re-entered the room which we had left so rapidly ten minutes before. The Professor closed the door carefully behind us, pointed at the arm-chair, and pushed a cigar-box under my nose.

“Now listen attentively. The reason why I brought you home again is in your answer to that policeman. It was not the answer I am accustomed to associate with your profession.”

He said it like a professor addressing his class.

“I am going to talk to you about South America,” he said and took a sketch-book out of his table. “No comments if you please. First of all, I wish you to understand that nothing I tell you now is to be repeated in any public way unless you have my permission. And that permission will probably never be given. Is that clear?”

“It is very hard… Your behaviour…”

“Then I wish you a very good morning.”

“No, no!” I cried. “So far as I can see, I have no choice.”

“Word of honour?”

“Word of honour.”

He looked at me with doubt in his eyes.

“What do I know about your honour?” said he.

“Upon my word, sir,” I cried, angrily, “I have never been so insulted in my life.”

He seemed more interested than annoyed.

“Round-headed,” he muttered. “Brachycephalic, gray-eyed, black-haired, with suggestion of the negroid. Celtic, I suppose?”

“I am an Irishman, sir.”

“That, of course, explains it. Well, you promised. You are probably aware that two years ago I made a journey to South America. You are aware… or probably, in this half-educated age, you are not aware… that the country round some parts of the Amazon is still only partially explored. It was my business to visit these little-known places and to examine their fauna. And I did a great job which will be my life’s justification. I was returning, my work accomplished, when I had occasion to spend a night at a small Indian village. The natives were Cucama Indians, an amiable but degraded race, with mental powers hardly superior to the average Londoner. I had cured some of their people, and had impressed them a lot, so that I was not surprised to find myself eagerly awaited upon my return. I understood from their gestures that someone needed my medical services. When I entered the hut I found that the sufferer had already died. He was, to my surprise, no Indian, but a white man. So far as I could understand the account of the natives, he was a complete stranger to them, and had come upon their village through the woods alone being very exhausted.”

“The man’s bag lay beside the couch, and I examined the contents. His name was written upon a tab within it… Maple White, Lake Avenue, Detroit, Michigan. Now I can say that I owe this man a lot.”

“This man had been an artist. There were some simple pictures of river scenery, a paint-box, a box of coloured chalks, some brushes, that curved bone which lies upon my inkstand, a cheap revolver, and a few cartridges. Some personal equipment he had lost in his journey. Then I noticed a sketch-book. This sketch-book. I hand it to you now, and I ask you to take it page by page and to examine the contents.”

I had opened it. The first page was disappointing, however, as it contained nothing but the picture of a very fat man, “Jimmy Colver on the Mail-boat,” written beneath it. There followed several pages which were filled with small sketches of Indians. Studies of women and babies accounted for several more pages, and then there was an unbroken series of animal drawings.

“I could see nothing unusual.”

“Try the next page,” said he with a smile.

It was a full-page sketch of a landscape in colour… the kind of painting which an open-air artist takes as a guide to a future more elaborate effort. I could see high hills covered with light-green trees. Above the hills there were dark red cliffs. They looked like an unbroken wall. Near the cliffs there was a pyramidal rock, crowned by a great tree. Behind it all, a blue tropical sky.

“Well?” he asked.

“It is no doubt a curious formation,” said I “but I am not geologist enough to say that it is wonderful.”

“Wonderful!” he repeated. “It is unique. It is incredible. No one on earth has ever dreamed of such a possibility. Now the next.”

I turned it over, and gave an exclamation of surprise. There was a full-page picture of the most extraordinary creature that I had ever seen. It was the wild dream of an opium smoker. The head was like that of a bird, the body that of a large lizard. The tail was covered with sharp spikes. In front of this creature there was a small man, or dwarf, who stood looking at it.

“Well, what do you think of that?” cried the Professor, rubbing his hands with triumph.

“It is monstrous… grotesque.”

“But what made him draw such an animal?”

“Gin, I think.”

“Oh, that’s the best explanation you can give, is it?”

“Well, sir, what is yours?”

“The creature exists. That is actually sketched from the life.”

I should have laughed only that I remembered our Catharine-wheel down the passage.

“No doubt,” said I, “no doubt… But this tiny human figure puzzles me. If it were an Indian we could set it down as evidence of some pigmy race in America, but it is a European.”

“Look here!” he cried, “You see that plant behind the animal; I suppose you thought it was a flower? Well, it is a huge palm. He sketched himself to give a scale of heights.”

“Good heavens!” I cried. “Then you think the beast was so huge…”

I had turned over the leaves but there was nothing more in the book.

“… a single sketch by a wandering American artist. You can’t, as a man of science, defend such a position as that.”

For answer the Professor took a book down from a shelf.

“There is an illustration here which would interest you. Ah, yes, here it is! It is said: ‘… Jurassic Dinosaur Stegosaurus. The leg is twice as tall as a full-grown man.’ Well, what do you think of that?”

He handed me the open book. I looked at the picture. In this animal of a dead world there was certainly a very great resemblance to the sketch of the unknown artist.

“Surely it might be a coincidence…”

“Very good,” said the Professor, “I will now ask you to look at this bone.” He handed over the one which he had already described as part of the dead man’s possessions. It was about six inches long, and thicker than my thumb.

“To what known creature does that bone belong?” asked the Professor.

I examined it.

“It might be a very thick human collar-bone,[24]” I said.

“The human collar-bone is curved. This is straight.”

“Then I don’t know what it is.”

He took a little bone the size of a bean out of a pill-box.

“This human bone is the analogue of the one which you hold in your hand. That will give you some idea of the size of the creature. What do you say to that?”

“Maybe an elephant…”

“Don’t! Don’t talk of elephants in South America! It belongs to a very large, a very strong animal which exists upon the face of the earth. You are still unconvinced?”

“I am at least deeply interested.”

“Then your case is not hopeless. We will proceed with my narrative. I could hardly come away from the Amazon without learning the truth. There were indications as to the direction from which the dead traveller had come. Indian legends would alone have been my guide, for I found that rumours of a strange land were common among all the tribes. Have you heard of Curupuri?”

“Never.”

“Curupuri is the spirit of the woods, something terrible, something to be avoided. It is a word of terror along the Amazon. Now all tribes agree as to the direction in which Curupuri lives. It was the same direction from which the American had come. Something terrible lay that way. It was my business to find out what it was.”

“I got two of the natives as guides. After many adventures we came at last to a tract of country which has never been described or visited except by the artist Maple White. Would you look at this?”

He handed me a photograph.

“This is one of the few which partially escaped – on our way back our boat was upset. There was talk of faking. I am not in a mood to argue such a point.”

The photograph was certainly very off-coloured. It represented a long and enormously high line of cliffs, with trees in the foreground.

“The same place as the painted picture…” said I.

“Yes,” the Professor answered. “We progress, do we not? Now, will you please look at the top of that rock? Do you observe something there?”

“An enormous tree.”

“But on the tree?”

“A large bird,” said I.

He handed me a lens.

“Yes,” I said, looking through it, “a large bird stands on the tree. It has a great beak. A pelican?”

“It may interest you that I shot it. It was the only absolute proof of my experiences.”

“You have it, then?”

“I had it. It was unfortunately lost in the same boat accident which ruined my photographs. Only a part of its wing was left in my hand.”

He took it out. It was at least two feet in length, a curved bone, with a membranous veil beneath it.

“A monstrous bat!” I suggested.

“Nothing of the sort,” said the Professor, severely. “The wing of a bat consists of three fingers with membranes between. Now, you can see that this is a single membrane hanging upon a single bone, and therefore that it cannot belong to a bat. What is it then?”

“I really do not know,” I said.

“Here,” said he, pointing to the picture of an extraordinary flying monster, “is an excellent reproduction of the pterodactyl, a flying reptile of the Jurassic period. On the next page is a diagram of the mechanism of its wing. Compare it with the specimen in your hand.”

A wave of amazement passed over me as I looked. I was convinced. There could be no getting away from it. The proof was overwhelming. The sketch, the photographs, the narrative, and now the actual specimen… the evidence was complete.

“It’s just the very biggest thing that I ever heard of!” I cried. “It is colossal. You have discovered a lost world! I’m awfully sorry if I seemed to doubt you.”

The Professor purred with satisfaction.[25]

“And then, sir, what did you do next?”

“I managed to see the plateau from the pyramidal rock upon which I saw and shot the pterodactyl. It appeared to be very large; I could not see the end of it. Below, it is jungly region, full of snakes, insects, and fever. It is a natural protection to this country.”

“Did you see any other trace of life?”

“No, I did not, but we heard some very strange noises from above.”

“But what about the creature that the American drew?”

“We can only suppose that he must have made his way to the rock and seen it there. The way is a very difficult one. That’s why the creatures do not come down and overrun the surrounding country.”

“But how did they come to be there?”

“There can only be one explanation. South America is a granite continent. At this single point in the interior there has been a great, sudden volcanic upheaval.[26] These cliffs, I may remark, are basaltic, and therefore plutonic. And a large area has been lifted up with all its living contents. What is the result? Creatures survive which would otherwise disappear. You will observe that both the pterodactyl and the stegosaurus are Jurassic. They have been artificially conserved by those strange accidental conditions.”

“Your evidence is conclusive. You have only to tell the world about it.”

“I can only tell you that I was met by incredulity,[27] born partly of stupidity and partly of jealousy. It is not my nature, sir, to prove a fact if my word has been doubted. When men like yourself, who represent the foolish curiosity of the public, came to disturb my privacy I was unable to meet them with open arms. By nature I am fiery. I fear you may have remarked it.”

I touched my eye and was silent.

“Well, I invite you to be present at the exhibition.” Challenger handed me a card from his desk. “Mr. Percival Waldron, a naturalist of some popular repute, is to lecture at eight-thirty at the Zoological Institute’s Hall upon ‘The Record of the Ages’. I have been specially invited. Maybe a few remarks may arouse the interest of the audience. We’ll see… By all means,[28] come. It will be a comfort to me to know that I have one ally in the hall, however inefficient and ignorant of the subject. No public use is to be made of any of the material that I have given you.”

“But Mr. McArdle… my news editor… will want to know what I have done.”

“Tell him what you like. I leave it to you that nothing of all this appears in print. Very good. Then the Zoological Institute’s Hall at eight-thirty tonight.”

McArdle was at his post as usual.

“Well,” he cried, expectantly, “Don’t tell me that he attacked you.”

“We had a little difference[29] at first.”

“What a man it is! What did you do?”

“Well, he became more reasonable and we had a chat. But I got nothing out of him… nothing for publication.”

“You got a black eye[30] out of him, and that’s for publication. Mr. Malone, we must bring the man to his bearings.[31] Just give me the material. I’ll show him up for the fraud he is.”

“I wouldn’t do that, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is not a fraud at all.”

“You don’t mean to say you really believe this stuff about mammoths and mastodons?”

“I do believe he has got something new.”

I told him the Professor’s narrative in a few sentences.

“Well, Mr. Malone,” he said at last, “about this scientific meeting tonight. You’ll be there in any case, so you’ll just give us a pretty full report.”

That day I met Tarp Henry. He listened to my story with a sceptical smile on his face, and roared with laughter on hearing that the Professor had convinced me.

“My dear friend, things don’t happen like that in real life. People don’t stumble upon enormous discoveries and then lose their evidence. Leave that to the novelists. The man is full of tricks.”

“Will you come to the meeting with me?” I asked suddenly.

Tarp Henry looked thoughtful.

“He is not a popular person,” said he. “I should say he is about the best-hated man in London. If the medical students turn out there will be no end of a mess.”

“You might at least do him justice[32] to hear him state his own case.”

“Well, it’s fair. All right. I’m your man for the evening.”

When we arrived at the hall we found more people than I had expected. The audience would be popular as well as scientific. We had taken our seats. Looking behind me, I could see rows of faces of the familiar medical student type. Apparently the great hospitals had each sent down their contingent. The behaviour of the audience at present was good-humoured, but mischievous.

The greatest demonstration of all, however, was at the entrance of my new acquaintance, Professor Challenger, when he passed down to take his place. Such a yell of welcome broke forth that I began to suspect Tarp Henry was right that this audience was there not for the sake of[33] the lecture, but because the famous Professor would take part in the proceedings.

Challenger smiled with weary and tolerant contempt, as a kindly man would meet the yapping of puppies. He sat slowly down, blew out his chest, passed his hand down his beard, and looked with drooping eyelids at the crowded hall before him.

Mr. Waldron, the lecturer, came up, and the proceedings began. He was a stern, gaunt man, with a harsh voice, and an aggressive manner. However he knew how to pass the ideas in a way which was intelligible and even interesting to the public. He told us of the globe, a huge mass of flaming gas. Then he pictured the solidification, the cooling, how the mountains were formed. On the origin of life itself he was vague. Had it built itself out of the cooling, inorganic elements of the globe? Very likely. Had the germs of it arrived from outside upon a meteor? Even the wisest man was the least categorical upon the point.

This brought the lecturer to the animal life, beginning with mollusks and sea creatures, then up rung by rung through reptiles and fishes, till at last mammals. Then he went back to his picture of the past: the drying of the seas, the overcrowded lagoons with sea animals, the tendency of the sea creatures to come out of the sea, the abundance of food awaiting them, their consequent enormous growth.

“Hence, ladies and gentlemen,” he added, “those creatures, which still frighten us, but which were fortunately extinct long before the first appearance of mankind upon this planet.”

“Question![34]” cried a voice from the platform.

This interjection appeared to him so absurd that at first he didn’t know what to do. He paused for a moment, and then, raising his voice, repeated slowly the words: “Which were extinct before the coming of man.”

“Question!” said the voice once more.

Waldron looked with amazement along the line of professors upon the platform until his eyes fell upon the figure of Challenger, who leaned back in his chair with closed eyes and an amused expression, as if he were smiling in his sleep.

“I see!” said Waldron. “It is my friend Professor Challenger,” and he renewed his lecture as if this was a final explanation and no more need be said.

But the incident was far from being closed. Whatever the lecturer spoke of the past it brought the same exclamation from the Professor. The audience began to roar with delight when it came. Every time Challenger opened his mouth, there was a yell of “Question!” from a hundred voices. Waldron, though a strong man, started hesitating. He stammered, repeated himself, and finally turned furiously upon the cause of his troubles.

“This is really intolerable!” he cried, glaring across the platform. “I must ask you, Professor Challenger, to stop these ignorant interruptions.”

There was a hush over the hall, the students were delighted at seeing the high gods on Olympus quarrelling among themselves. Challenger slowly stoop up.

“I must in turn ask you, Mr. Waldron,” he said, “to stop saying what is not in strict accordance with scientific fact.”

“Shame! Shame!” “Give him a hearing!” “Put him out!” “Shove him off the platform!” emerged from a general roar in the hall. The chairman was on his feet and said nervously:

“Professor Challenger… personal views… later.”

The interrupter bowed, smiled, stroked his beard, and relapsed into his chair. And Waldron continued his observations. At last the lecture came to an end… I should say the ending was hurried and disconnected. The thread of the argument had been rudely broken, and the audience was restless. Waldron sat down, and, after a chirrup from the chairman, Professor Challenger rose and came up to the edge of the platform.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began. “I beg pardon… Ladies, Gentlemen, and Children, I should say thanks to Mr. Waldron for the very picturesque and imaginative address to which we have just listened. There are points in it with which I disagree, and it has been my duty to express my opinion at once, but, none the less, Mr. Waldron has accomplished his object well, that object being to give a simple and interesting account of what he conceives to have been the history of our planet. Popular lectures are the easiest to listen to, but Mr. Waldron will excuse me when I say that they are necessarily both superficial and misleading, since they have to be aimed at an ignorant audience.” (Ironical cheering.) “But enough of this! Let me pass to some subject of wider interest. What is the particular point upon which I have challenged our lecturer’s accuracy? It is upon the existence of certain types of animal life upon the earth. I do not speak upon this subject as an amateur. They are indeed, as he has said, our ancestors, but they are our contemporary ancestors, who can still be found. Creatures which were supposed to be Jurassic still exist.” (Cries of “Bosh!” “Prove it!” “How do YOU know?” “Question!”) “How do I know, you ask me? I know because I have visited their secret home. I know because I have seen some of them.” (Applause, uproar, and a voice, “Liar!”) “Am I a liar? Did I hear someone say that I was a liar? If any person in this hall dares to doubt my words, I shall be glad to have a few words with him after the lecture.” (“Liar!”) “Who said that? Every great discoverer has been met with the same incredulity… the generation of fools. When great facts are laid before you, you have not the intuition, the imagination which would help you to understand them. You can only throw mud at the men who have risked their lives to open new fields to science. You persecute the prophets! Galileo! Darwin, and I…” (Prolonged cheering and complete interruption.)

I saw white-bearded men rising and shaking their fists at the Professor. The whole great audience seethed and simmered like a boiling pot.[35] The Professor took a step forward and raised both his hands. There was something so big and strong in the man that the shouting died gradually away before his commanding gesture and his masterful eyes.

“Truth is truth, and the noise of a number of fools cannot affect the matter. I claim that I have opened a new field of science. You don’t believe. Then I put you to the test. Will you choose one or more of your own number to test my statement?”

Mr. Summerlee, the Professor of Comparative Anatomy, rose among the audience, a tall, thin, bitter man. He desired to know how it was that Professor Challenger claimed to have made discoveries in those regions which had been overlooked by Wallace, Bates, and other previous famous explorers.

Professor Challenger answered that Mr. Summerlee appeared to be confusing the Amazon with the Thames; that it was in reality a larger river. It was not impossible for one person to find what another had missed.

Mr. Summerlee declared, with an acid smile, that he fully appreciated the difference between the Thames and the Amazon. And he would be pleased if Professor Challenger would give the whereabouts of the prehistoric animals.

Professor Challenger replied that he reserved such information for good reasons of his own, but would be prepared to give it with proper precautions to a committee chosen from the audience. Would Mr. Summerlee serve on such a committee and test his story in person?

“Yes, I will.” (Great cheering.)

“Since Mr. Summerlee goes to check my statement that I should have one or more with him who may check his. I will not disguise from you that there are difficulties and dangers. Mr. Summerlee will need a younger colleague. Any volunteers?”

Could I have imagined when I entered that hall that I was about to pledge myself to a wilder adventure than had ever come to me in my dreams? Was it not the very opportunity of which Gladys spoke? I had sprung to my feet. I heard Tarp Henry whispering, “Sit down, Malone! Don’t make a fool of yourself.[36]” At the same time I was aware that a tall, thin man, with dark gingery hair, a few seats in front of me, was also on his feet. He glared back at me with hard angry eyes, but I refused to give way.

“I will go, Mr. Chairman!” I kept repeating.

“Name! Name!” cried the audience.

“My name is Edward Dunn Malone. I am the reporter of the Daily Gazette. I claim to be an absolutely unprejudiced witness.”

“What is YOUR name, sir?” the chairman asked of my tall rival.

“I am Lord John Roxton. I have already been up the Amazon.”

“Lord John Roxton is a world-famous traveller,” said the chairman; “at the same time it would certainly be well to have a member of the Press on such an expedition.”

“Then I think,” said Professor Challenger, “both these gentlemen are elected to accompany Professor Summerlee.”

And so, our fate was decided. As I went out from the hall I found myself after some time walking under the silvery lights of Regent Street, full of thoughts of Gladys and my future.

Suddenly there was a touch at my elbow. I turned and saw the tall, thin man who had volunteered to be my companion.

“Mr. Malone, I understand,” said he. “We are to be companions. Perhaps you would spare me half an hour[37] as I have one or two things that I want to say to you.”

When I entered his flat I had a general impression of extraordinary comfort and elegance combined with an atmosphere of masculinity. Everywhere there were mingled the luxury of the wealthy man of taste and the careless untidiness of the bachelor. Rich furs, antique things, pictures and prints, and numerous trophies, which brought me back to the fact that Lord John Roxton was one of the great sportsmen and athletes of his day.

Having indicated an arm-chair to me and placed my refreshment near it, he seated himself opposite to me and looked at me long and fixedly with his strange, reckless eyes, eyes of a cold light blue, the colour of a lake.

I examined him too: the strongly-curved nose, the dark red hair, masculine moustaches, the aggressive chin. In figure he was spare, very strongly built.

“Well,” said he, at last, “we’ve done it, my friend. I suppose, when you went into that room there was no such thought in your head?”

“No thought of it.”

“The same. And here we are. Why, I’ve only been back three weeks from Uganda, and taken a place in Scotland, and signed the lease and all. Pretty busy… How does it hit you?”

“Well, it is all in the main line of my business. I am a journalist on the Gazette.”

“Mr Malone, don’t you mind taking a risk, do you?”

“What is the risk?”

“Well, it’s Ballinger… he’s the risk. Have you heard of him?”

“No.”

“Why, Sir John Ballinger is the best sportsman in the north country. Well, it’s not a secret that when he’s out of training, he drinks hard and gets violent… His room is above this. The doctors say that he is done[38] unless some food is got into him, but as he lies in bed with a revolver, and swears he will put six of the best through anyone that comes near him, it is really a problem.”

“What do you mean to do, then?” I asked.

“Well, my idea was that you and I could rush him. He may be sleeping, and at the worst he can only hit one of us, and the other should have him. And we’ll give the old dear the supper of his life.”

It was a rather desperate business. I don’t think that I am a particularly brave man. I have an Irish imagination which makes the unknown and the untried more terrible than they are. On the other hand, I was brought up with a horror of cowardice. I dare say that I could throw myself over a precipice if my courage were questioned, and yet it would surely be pride and fear, rather than courage. I answered as careless as I could that I was ready to go. Some further remark of Lord Roxton’s about the danger only made me irritable.

“Talking won’t make it any better,” said I. “Come on.”

I rose from my chair and he from his. Then with a little chuckle of laughter, he patted me two or three times on the chest, finally pushing me back into my chair.

“All right, sonny,” said he. I looked up in surprise.

“I saw Jack Ballinger myself this morning. He blew a hole in the skirt of my kimono, but we got a jacket on him, and he’s to be all right in a week. I hope you don’t mind… You see I look on this South American business as a very serious thing, and if I have a companion with me I want a man I can rely on.[39] So you came well out of it. Tell me, can you shoot?”

“About average Territorial standard.”

“Good Lord! As bad as that? But you’ll need to hold your gun straight in South America, for we may see some queer things before we get back.”

He crossed to an oaken cupboard, and as he threw it open I saw a rich collection of guns.

“I see…” said he. “Now, here’s something that would do for you.”

He took out a beautiful brown-and-silver rifle.

“Sharply sighted, five cartridges to the clip.[40] You can trust your life to that.” He handed it to me and closed the door of his oak cabinet.

“By the way,” he continued, coming back to his chair, “what do you know of this Professor Challenger?”

“I never saw him till today.”

“Well, neither did I. It’s funny we should both sail under the orders from a man we don’t know. His brothers of science don’t seem to like him.”

I told him shortly my experiences of the morning, and he listened intently. Then he drew out a map of South America and laid it on the table.

“I believe every single word he said was the truth,” said he, earnestly, “America is the richest, most wonderful bit of earth upon this planet. But people don’t know it yet. Well, when I was up there I heard some stories of the same kind… traditions of Indians with something behind them. The more you knew of that country, the more you would understand that anything was possible… ANYTHING. There are just some narrow water-lanes along which folk travel, and outside that it is all darkness. There are fifty-thousand miles of water-way running through a forest that is very near the size of Europe. Why shouldn’t something new and wonderful lie in such a country? And why shouldn’t we be the men to find it out? Besides, there’s a risk in every mile of it. Give me the great waste lands and a gun and something to look for that’s worth finding. I’ve tried war and aeroplanes, but this hunting of prehistoric beasts is a brand-new sensation!” Lord Roxton said, laughing with delight.

We had a long talk that evening. I left him seated, oiling the lock of his favorite rifle, while he still laughed at the thought of the adventures which awaited us. It was clear to me that I could not in all England have found a cooler head or a braver spirit.

That night, tired after the wonderful happenings of the day, I sat late with McArdle, the news editor, explaining to him the whole situation. It was agreed that I should write home full accounts of my adventures in the shape of successive letters to McArdle, and that these should either be edited for the Gazette as they arrived, or held back to be published later, according to the wishes of Professor Challenger.

And now my patient readers, I can address you directly no longer. From now onwards it can only be through the paper which I represent. In the hands of the editor I leave this account of the events which have led up to one of the most remarkable expeditions of all time, so that if I never return to England there shall be some record as to how the affair came about.

Let me draw one last picture before I close the notebook… It is a wet, foggy morning in the late spring; a thin, cold rain is falling. Three figures are walking to the ship. In front of them a porter pushes a trolley with trunks, wraps, and gun-cases. Professor Summerlee, a long, melancholy figure, walks with drooping head, as one who is already sorry for himself. Lord John Roxton steps briskly, and his face beaming. As for myself, I am glad to have these days of preparation behind me. Suddenly there is a shout behind us. It is Professor Challenger, who had promised to see us off. He runs after us.

“No thank you,” says he; “I don’t want to go aboard. I have only a few words to say to you. I beg you not to imagine that I am in any way indebted to you for making this journey. I would have you to understand that it is a matter of perfect indifference to me, and I refuse to entertain the most remote sense of personal obligation. My directions for your instruction and guidance are in this sealed envelope. You will open it when you reach a town which is called Manaos, but not until the date and hour which is marked upon the outside. Have I made myself clear? Mr. Malone, I demand that you give no particulars as to your exact destination, and that nothing be actually published until your return. Good-bye, sir. You have done something to change my feelings for the profession to which you unhappily belong. Good-bye, Lord John. You may congratulate yourself upon the hunting-field which awaits you. And good-bye to you also, Professor Summerlee. If you are still capable of self-improvement, you will surely return to London a wiser man.”

So he turned upon his heel, and a minute later I could see his short figure as he made his way back to his train. Well, we are well down Channel now. God bless all we leave behind us, and send us safely back.

I will not tell in every detail our voyage, nor will I tell of our week’s stay at Para. I will also mention very briefly our river journey, up a wide, slow-moving stream, in a steamer which was little smaller than that which had carried us across the Atlantic. Finally we reached the town of Manaos. Here we spent our time until the day when we were empowered to open the letter of instructions given to us by Professor Challenger. Before I reach the surprising events of that date I would desire to give a clearer sketch of my companions. I speak freely and leave the use of my material to you, Mr. McArdle, since this report must pass through your hands before it reaches the world.

Professor Summerlee turned out to be better equipped for the expedition than one would imagine at first sight. His tall, gaunt figure is insensible to fatigue. Though in his sixty-sixth year, I have never heard him express any dissatisfaction at the hardships which we had. In temper he is naturally acid and sceptical. From the beginning he has never doubted that Professor Challenger is an absolute fraud, that we are likely to get nothing but disappointment and danger in South America and ridicule in England. However, since landing from the boat he has found consolation[41] in the beauty and variety of the insect and bird life around him, for he is absolutely whole-hearted in his devotion to science. He spends his days in the woods with his shot-gun and his butterfly-net, and his evenings in examining the many specimens he has caught. He has been on several scientific expeditions in his youth, and the life of the camp and the canoe is nothing new to him.

Lord John Roxton is twenty years younger, but has something of the same spare physique as Professor Summerlee. Like most men of action, he is laconic in speech, and sinks readily into his own thoughts, but he is always quick to answer a question or join in a conversation, talking in a half-humorous fashion. His knowledge of the world, and very especially of South America, is surprising, and he has a whole-hearted belief in the possibilities of our journey. He has a gentle voice and a quiet manner, but behind it hides a capacity for furiousity and pitiless resolution. He spoke little of his own visits in Brazil and Peru, but I was very much amazed to find the excitement among the natives, who looked at him as their champion and protector. The deeds of the Red Chief, as they called him, had become legends among them.

These were that Lord John had found himself some years before in that no-man’s-land somewhere between Peru, Brazil, and Columbia. In this great a handful of villainous half-breeds dominated the country, turned the natives into slaves, terrorizing them with the most inhuman tortures in order to force them to gather the india-rubber, which was then floated down the river to Para. Lord John Roxton made the stand for[42] the victims, and received nothing but threats and insults. He then formally declared war against the leader of the slave-drivers, armed the natives, and conducted a campaign, which ended by his killing with his own hands the notorious half-breed and breaking down the system which he represented.

One useful result of his former experiences was that he could talk fluently in the Lingoa Geral, which is the peculiar talk, one-third Portuguese and two-thirds Indian, which is current all over Brazil.

I have said before that Lord John Roxton was obsessed with South America. He could not speak of that great country without admiration. Even the Professor’s cynical and sceptical smile would gradually vanish from his thin face as he listened. He would tell the history of the mighty river so rapidly explored, and yet so unknown in regard to all that lay behind its ever-changing banks.

“What is there?” he would cry, pointing to the north. “Wood and jungle. Who knows what it may shelter? And there to the south? A wilderness of dark forest, where no white man has ever been. The unknown is up against us on every side. Who will say what is possible in such a country? Why should old man Challenger not be right?” And the stubborn sneer would reappear on Professor Summerlee’s face, and he would sit, shaking his head in unsympathetic silence, smoking his pipe.

So much, for the moment, for my two white companions. But already we have enrolled certain retainers who may play no small part in what is to come. The first is a gigantic negro named Zambo, who is a black Hercules, as willing as any horse, and about as intelligent. We enlisted him at Para as he spoke English a little bit. There we also took Gomez and Manuel, two half-breeds,[43] as active and wiry as panthers. Both of them had spent their lives in those upper waters of the Amazon which we were about to explore, that was the reason Lord John decided to engage them. One of them, Gomez, had the further advantage that he could speak excellent English. These men were willing to act as our personal servants, to cook, to row, or to make themselves useful in any way at a payment of fifteen dollars a month. Besides these, we had hired three Mojo Indians from Bolivia, who are the most skilful at fishing and boat work of all the river tribes. The chief of these we called Mojo, after his tribe, and the others are known as Jose and Fernando. So three white men, two half-breeds, one negro, and three Indians made up the personnel of the little expedition which lay waiting for its instructions at Manaos before starting on its quest.

At last the day had come and the hour. We were seated round the cane table, on which lay a sealed envelope. Written on it, in the handwriting of Professor Challenger, were the words:

“Instructions to Lord John Roxton and party. To be opened at Manaos upon July 15th, at 12 o’clock precisely.”

Lord John had placed his watch upon the table beside him.

“We have seven more minutes,” he said.

Professor Summerlee gave an acid smile as he picked up the envelope in his gaunt hand.

“What can it possibly matter whether we open it now or in seven minutes?” said he. “It is all part of the same system of quackery,[44] for which I regret to say that the writer is notorious.”

“Oh, come, we must play the game according to rules,” said Lord John. “We are here by his good will, so it would be a bad form if we didn’t follow his instructions to the letter.”

“God knows what!” cried the Professor, bitterly. “I don’t know what is inside this envelope, but, unless it is something definite, I shall be much tempted to take the next down-river boat and catch the Bolivia at Para. After all, I have some more responsible work in the world than to follow instructions of a lunatic. Now, Roxton, surely it is time.”

“Time it is,” said Lord John. He opened it and drew a folded sheet of paper. This he carefully opened out and flattened on the table. It was a blank sheet. He turned it over. Again it was blank. We looked at each other in a bewildered silence, which was broken by a burst of sarcastic laughter from Professor Summerlee.

“What more do you want?” he cried. “The fellow is a self-confessed fraud. We have only to return home and report him as the shameless fraud that he is.”

“Invisible ink!” I suggested.

“I don’t think!” said Lord Roxton, holding the paper to the light. “No, there is no use deceiving yourself. Nothing has ever been written upon this paper.”

“May I come in?” boomed a voice from the veranda.

That voice! We sprang to our feet with a gasp of astonishment as Challenger, in a straw-hat with a coloured ribbon… Challenger, with his hands in his jacket-pockets and his canvas shoes daintily pointing as he walked… appeared in the open space before us. There he stood in the golden glow with all his old Assyrian luxuriance of beard, all his native insolence of drooping eyelids and intolerant eyes.

“I fear,” said he, taking out his watch, “that I am a few minutes too late. When I gave you this envelope I must confess that I had never intended that you should open it. It had been my fixed intention to be with you before the hour. I fear that it has given my colleague, Professor Summerlee, occasion to blaspheme.”

“I should say, sir,” said Lord John, with some sternness of voice, “that your turning up is a considerable relief to us, for our mission seemed to have come to a premature end. Even now I can’t understand why you should have worked it in so an extraordinary manner.”

Instead of answering, Professor Challenger shook hands with myself and Lord John, bowed with ponderous insolence to Professor Summerlee, and sank back into a basket-chair, which creaked beneath his weight.

“Is all ready for your journey?” he asked.

“We can start tomorrow.”

“Then so you shall. You need no maps now, since you will have the advantage of my own guidance. From the very beginning I had determined that I would myself preside over your investigation. As to the small trick which I played on you, it is clear that, had I told you all my intentions, you should have travelled out with me.”

“Not, sir!” exclaimed Professor Summerlee, heartily. “So long as there was another ship upon the Atlantic.”

Challenger waved him away with his great hairy hand.

“It was better that I should direct my own movements and appear only at the exact moment when my presence was needed. That moment has now arrived. You are in safe hands. You will not now fail to reach your destination. From now I take command of this expedition, and I must ask you to complete your preparations tonight, so that we may be able to make an early start in the morning.”

Lord John Roxton has hired a large ship, the Esmeralda, which was to carry us up the river. Our expedition was at the time of the dry season, when the great river and its tributaries were more or less in a normal condition. The current of the river was a slight one. No stream could be more convenient for navigation. For three days we went up a stream which was so enormous that from its centre the two banks were shadows upon the distant skyline. On the fourth day after leaving Manaos we turned into a tributary which was little smaller than the main stream. It narrowed rapidly, however, and soon we reached an Indian village, where the Professor insisted that we should land, and that the Esmeralda should be sent back to Manaos.

He added that we were now approaching the door of the unknown country. To this end also he made each of us give our word of honour that we would publish or say nothing which would give any exact clue as to the whereabouts of our travels. It is for this reason that I have to be vague in my narrative, and I would warn my readers that it in no way can be taken as an actual guide to the country. Professor Challenger’s reasons for secrecy may be valid or not, but we had no choice but to adopt them, for he was prepared to abandon the whole expedition rather than modify the conditions on which he would guide us.

It was August 2nd when we cut our last link with the outer world by saying goodbye to the Esmeralda. Since then four days have passed, during which we have hired two large canoes from the Indians, which we have loaded with all our belongings, and have enlisted two additional Indians to help us in the navigation. They are the very two, Ataca and Ipetu by name, who accompanied Professor Challenger on his previous journey. They seemed to be terrified at the prospect of repeating it, but as it was the chief’s will so that they had little choice in the matter.

So tomorrow we disappear into the unknown. This account I am transmitting down the river by canoe, and it may be our last word to those who are interested in our fate. I have, according to our arrangement, addressed it to you, my dear Mr. McArdle. In spite of the continued scepticism of Professor Summerlee I have no doubt that our leader will make good his statement, and that we are really on the eve[45] of some most remarkable experiences.

Our friends at home may rejoice with us, for we are at our goal. We have not ascended the plateau yet, but it lies before us. Professor Summerlee is less persistent in his objections and keeps silence. We are sending home one of our local Indians who is injured, and I am giving this letter to him, with considerable doubts in my mind whether it will ever come to hand.

When I wrote last we were about to leave the Indian village. I have to begin my report by bad news, for the first serious personal trouble (I pass over the incessant bickerings between the Professors) occurred this evening, and might have had a tragic ending. I have spoken of our English-speaking half-breed, Gomez – a fine worker and a willing fellow, but afflicted, I fancy, with the vice of curiosity, which is common enough among such men. On the last evening he seems to have hid himself near the hut in which we were discussing our plans, and, being observed by our huge negro Zambo, who is as faithful as a dog and has the hatred which all his race bear to the half-breeds, he was dragged out and carried into our presence. Gomez whipped out his knife, however, and but for the huge strength of his captor, which enabled him to disarm him with one hand, he would certainly have stabbed him. The matter has ended in reprimands, the opponents have been compelled to shake hands, and there is every hope that all will be well. As to the feuds of the two learned men, they are continuous and bitter. It must be admitted that Challenger is provocative in the last degree, but Summerlee has an acid tongue, which makes matters worse. Last night Challenger said that he never cared to walk on the Thames Embankment and look up the river, as it was always sad to see one’s own eventual goal. He is convinced, of course, that he is destined for Westminster Abbey. Summerlee rejoined, however, with a sour smile, by saying that he understood that Millbank Prison had been pulled down. Challenger’s conceit is too colossal to allow him to be really annoyed. He only smiled in his beard and repeated “Really! Really!” in the pitying tone one would use to a child. Indeed, they are children both – the one wizened and cantankerous, the other formidable and overbearing, yet each with a brain which has put him in the front rank of his scientific age. Brain, character, soul – only as one sees more of life does one understand how distinct is each.

The very next day we did actually make our start on this remarkable expedition on two canoes. All our possessions fitted very easily, and we divided our personnel, six in each. In the interests of peace we put one Professor into each canoe. Personally, I was with Challenger, who was in a great mood, beaming with pleasure. I have had some experience of him in other moods, so I can say it is impossible to be at your ease[46] and to be dull in his company, for one is always in a state of doubt as to what sudden turn his temper may take.

For two days we made our way up a river, dark in colour, but clean, so that one could usually see the bottom. The woods on either side were primeval, and we had no great difficulty in carrying our canoes through them. How shall I ever forget the solemn mystery of it? The height of the trees and the thickness of the trunks that I could have ever imagined… We could dimly see the spot where they threw out their side-branches into Gothic upward curves. As we walked noiselessly stepping on the thick, soft carpet of vegetation, we were spellbound, and even Professor Challenger’s full-chested voice sank into a whisper. Alone, I should have been ignorant of the names of these plants, but our men of science pointed out the cedars, the great silk cotton trees, and the redwood trees. Animal life was rather poor, but a constant movement above our heads told of the world of snakes and monkeys, birds, which lived in the sunshine, and looked down at our tiny, dark figures. At dawn and at sunset the howler monkeys screamed together and the parrots broke into shrill chatter. Once some creature, an ant-eater or a bear, went clumsily in the shadows. It was the only sign of earth life which I saw in this great Amazonian forest.

And yet we felt that human life itself was not far from us. On the third day out we heard a beating in the air, rhythmic and solemn. The two boats were floating when we heard it, and our Indians remained motionless, listening with expressions of terror on their faces.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Drums,” said Lord John, carelessly; “War drums. I have heard them before.”

“Yes, sir, war drums,” said Gomez, the half-breed. “Wild Indians; they watch us every mile of the way, kill us if they can.”

“How can they watch us?” I asked, gazing into the dark.

“The Indians know. They have their own way. They watch us. They talk the drum talk to each other. Kill us if they can.”

By the afternoon of that day at least six or seven drums were beating from various points. Sometimes they beat quickly, sometimes slowly, sometimes in obvious question and answer. There was something nerve-shaking and menacing in that constant mutter, “We will kill you if we can. We will kill you if we can.” No one ever moved in the silent woods. All the peace of quiet Nature lay in that dark curtain of vegetation, but away from behind there came the message from our fellow-man. “We will kill you if we can,” said the men in the east. “We will kill you if we can,” said the men in the north.

Their menace reflected in the faces of our coloured companions. I learned, however, that both Summerlee and Challenger possessed that highest type of bravery, the bravery of the scientific mind. It is decreed by a merciful Nature that the human brain cannot think of two things simultaneously, so that if it is devoted to science it has no room for other personal considerations. All day our two Professors watched every bird and every plant and argued a lot, with no sense of danger as if they were seated together in the smoking-room of the Royal Society’s Club in St. James’s Street.

About three o’clock in the afternoon we came to a very dangerous rapid, in which Professor Challenger had suffered disaster on his first journey. Before evening we had successfully passed the rapids, and made our way some ten miles above them, where we stayed for the night. At this point we had come not less than a hundred miles up the tributary from the main stream.

In the morning Professor Challenger started scanning each bank of the river. Suddenly he gave an exclamation of satisfaction and showed us a tree.

“What do you make of that?” he asked.

“It is an Assai palm,” said Summerlee.

“Exactly. It was an Assai palm which I took for my landmark. The secret opening is half a mile onwards upon the other side of the river. There is no break in the trees. That is my private gate into the unknown. Come on and you will understand.”

It was indeed a wonderful place. Having reached the spot marked by a line of light-green rushes, we carried two canoes through them, and found ourselves in a quiet stream, running clear over a sandy bottom. No one could possibly have guessed the existence of such a stream.

It was a fairyland… The most wonderful that the imagination of man could conceive. The thick branches met over our heads, creating a tunnel, in a golden twilight flowed a beautiful river. Clear as crystal, motionless as a sheet of glass. It was an avenue to a land of wonders.

All sign of the wild Indians had passed away, animal life was more frequent, everything showed that they knew nothing of the hunter. Little black-velvet monkeys, with snow-white teeth and gleaming eyes, chattered at us as we passed. Once a dark, clumsy tapir stared at us from a gap in the bushes, and then went away through the forest; once we saw a great puma, its green, eyes glared hatred at us over its shoulder. Bird life was in abundance, while beneath us the crystal water was alive with fish of every shape and color.

For three days we made our way up this tunnel of hazy green sunshine. The deep peace of this strange waterway was unbroken by any sign of man.

“No Indian here. Too much afraid. Curupuri,” said Gomez.

“Curupuri is the spirit of the woods,” Lord John explained. “It’s a name for any kind of devil. They think that there is something terrible in this direction, and therefore they avoid it.”

On the third day the stream was rapidly growing more shallow. Finally we pulled the boats up among the brushwood and spent the night on the bank of the river. In the morning Lord John and I made our way for a couple of miles through the forest, keeping parallel with the stream; but as it grew ever shallower we returned and reported that the canoes could not be brought any more. We concealed them among the bushes, leaving a landmark with our axes, so that we could find them again. Then we distributed the various burdens among us – guns, ammunition, food, a tent, blankets, and the rest – and, shouldering our packages, we began the more challenging stage of our journey.

On the second day after leaving our canoes we found that the whole character of the country changed. Our road was mainly upwards, the woods became thinner and lost their tropical view. The huge trees of the alluvial Amazonian plain gave place to coco palms with thick brushwood between.

On the ninth day after leaving the canoes, the trees had grown smaller until they were mere shrubs. Their place was taken by an immense wilderness of bamboo, which grew so thickly that we could only penetrate it by cutting a pathway with the machetes and billhooks of the Indians. It took us a long day, travelling from seven in the morning till eight at night, with only two breaks of one hour each, to get through it. Anything more monotonous and wearying could not be imagined. Several times we heard some large, heavy animals quite close to us. From their sounds Lord John judged them to be some form of wild cattle. Just as night fell we formed our camp, exhausted after the long day.

Early next morning we were again afoot, and found that the character of the country had changed once again. Behind us was the wall of bamboo, in front was an open plain, with clumps of tree-ferns, the whole curving before us until it ended in a long ridge. It was here, where an incident occurred which may or may not have been important.

Professor Challenger stopped suddenly and pointed excitedly to the right. As he did so we saw, at the distance of a mile or so, something which appeared to be a huge gray bird took wing,[47] flying very low and straight, until it was lost among the tree-ferns.

“Did you see it?” cried Challenger. “Summerlee, did you see it?”

His colleague was staring at the spot where the creature had disappeared.

“What do you say that it was?” he asked.

“A pterodactyl.”

Summerlee burst into laughter “Nonsense!” said he. “It was a stork.[48]”

Challenger was too furious to speak. He simply swung his pack upon his back and continued upon his march. Lord John came up to me, with his face grave. He had his binoculars in his hand.

“I focused it before it got over the trees,” said he. “I cannot say what it was, but I’ll risk my reputation as a sportsman that it wasn’t any bird that I have ever seen in my life.”

Are we really just at the edge of the unknown? I give you the incident as it occurred and you will know as much as I do.

When we had crossed the second ridge we saw before us an irregular, palm-studded plain, and then the line of high red cliffs which I have seen in the picture. There it lies, even as I write, and there can be no question that it is the same. Challenger walks about like a peacock, and Summerlee is silent, but still sceptical. Another day should bring some of our doubts to an end. Meanwhile, Jose, whose arm was pierced by a broken bamboo, insists on returning. And I send this letter back in his charge, and only hope that it may eventually come to hand. I will write again.

A dreadful thing has happened to us. Who could have foreseen it? I cannot foresee any end to our troubles. It may be that we are condemned to spend our whole lives in this strange, inaccessible place. I am still so confused that I can hardly think clearly of the facts of the present or of the chances of the future. Still I have as companions three remarkable men, men of great brain-power and of unshaken courage. There lies our one and only hope. It is only when I look on the untroubled faces of my comrades that I see some glimmer through the darkness.

Let me give you, with as much detail as I can, the sequence of events which have led us to this catastrophe. When I finished my last letter I stated that we were within seven miles from an enormous line of ruddy cliffs, which encircled, beyond all doubt, the plateau of which Professor Challenger spoke. Their height, as we approached them, seemed to me in some places to be greater than he had stated. There was no indication of any life that we could see.

That night we pitched our camp immediately under the cliff. Close to us was the high thin rock, the top of it being level with the plateau, but with a great gap between them. Next to it grew one high tree.

“It was on that,” said Professor Challenger, pointing to this tree, “that the pterodactyl was sitting before I shot him. I am inclined to think that a good mountaineer like myself could ascend the rock to the top, though he would, of course, be no nearer to the plateau.”

As Challenger spoke of his pterodactyl I glanced at Professor Summerlee, and for the first time there was no sneer on his lips, but, on the contrary, a look of excitement and amazement. Challenger saw it too.

“Of course,” said he, with his clumsy and ponderous sarcasm, “Professor Summerlee will understand that when I speak of a pterodactyl I mean a stork… only it is the stork which has no feathers, a leathery skin, membranous wings, and teeth in its jaws.” He grinned and blinked and bowed until his colleague turned and walked away.

In the morning, after a breakfast of coffee and manioc – we had to be economical of our stores – we started discussing how to ascend to the plateau above us.

“I need not say,” said our leader, “that on the occasion of my last visit I exhausted every means of climbing the cliff. I had none of the appliances of a rock-climber with me, but I have taken the precaution to bring them now. With their help I could climb that rock, but so long as the main cliff overhangs, it is vain[50] to try ascending that. But it is certain that there is a point where an ascent is possible.”

“How do you know that, sir?” asked Summerlee, sharply.

“Because my predecessor, the American Maple White, actually found it. How could he have seen the monster which he sketched in his notebook?”

“I admit your plateau, because I have seen it; but I have not as yet satisfied myself that it contains any form of life,” said the stubborn Summerlee.

And then, to our amazement, Challenger seized Summerlee by the neck, he tilted his face into the air. “Now sir!” he shouted, hoarse with excitement. “Do I help you to realize that the plateau contains some animal life?”

I have said that a thick fringe of green overhung the edge of the cliff. Out of this there had emerged a black, glistening object. As it came slowly forth and overhung the chasm,[51] we saw that it was a very large snake with a peculiar flat, spade-like head. It wavered and quivered above us for a minute, then it slowly drew inwards and disappeared.

Summerlee had been so interested that he had stood unresisting while Challenger tilted his head into the air. Now he shook his colleague off and came back to his dignity.

“I should be glad, Professor Challenger,” said he, “if you could see your way to make any remarks without seizing me by the chin.”

“But there is life upon the plateau all the same,” his colleague replied in triumph. “And now I think that we cannot do better than break up our camp and travel to the west until we find some means of ascent.”

The ground at the foot of the cliff was rocky and broken so that the going was slow and difficult. Suddenly we came, however, on something which cheered our hearts. It was an old camp, with several empty Chicago meat tins and a bottle labeled “Brandy”.

“Not mine,” said Challenger. “It must be Maple White’s.”

Lord John had been gazing curiously at a great tree-fern which overshadowed the encampment. “Look at this,” said he. “I believe it is a sign-post.[52]”

A slip of hard wood had been nailed to the tree pointing to the west.

“Certainly a sign-post,” said Challenger. “What else? He has left this sign so that any party which follows him may know the way he has taken. Perhaps we shall find some other signs.”

Beneath the cliff there grew lots of high bamboo. Many of these stems were twenty feet high, with sharp, strong tops. Suddenly my eye was caught by the gleam of something white. I came closer and found myself gazing at a fleshless skull. The whole skeleton was there, but the skull lay some feet nearer to the open.

We cleared the spot and were able to study the details of this old tragedy. Only a few shreds of clothes could still be distinguished, but it was very clear that the dead man was a European. A gold watch by Hudson, of New York, and a chain which held a stylographic pen, lay among the bones. There was also a silver cigarette-case. The state of the metal seemed to show that the catastrophe had occurred no great time before.

“Who can he be?” asked Lord John. “Poor man! Every bone in his body seems to be broken.”

“And the bamboo grows through his ribs,” said Summerlee. “It is a fast-growing plant, but it is surely inconceivable that this body could have been here while the canes grew to be twenty feet in length.”

“As to the man’s identity,” said Professor Challenger, “I have no doubt who he is. Maple White was not alone all the time. It had a companion, an American named James Colver. I think, therefore, that there can be no doubt that we are now looking at the remains of this James Colver.”

“And we know how he met his death,” said Lord John. “He has fallen from the top, and so been impaled.[53]”

We stood silently round these shattered remains and realized the truth of Lord John Roxton’s words. Undoubtedly he had fallen from above. But had he fallen? Had it been an accident? Or…

We moved off in silence, and continued to coast round the line of cliffs. In five miles we saw no rift or break. And then suddenly we saw something which filled us with new hope. In a hollow of the rock, there was drawn an arrow in chalk, pointing still to the west.

“Maple White again,” said Professor Challenger.

We had proceeded some five more miles when again we saw a white arrow on the rocks, pointing higher up. We came to a solemn place, the walls were so gigantic and the slit of blue sky so narrow, so that only a shadowy light penetrated to the bottom. We had had no food for many hours, and were very tired with the journey, but our nerves were too strung to allow us to relax. Suddenly the quick eyes of Lord John fell on what we were seeking. High up above our heads, there was a hole. Surely it could only be the opening of a cave.[54] Here was the point, where Maple White and his ill-fated companion had made their ascent. We were too excited to return to the camp and made our first exploration at once.

Lord John took out an electric torch and entered the cave and we followed at his heels. First the cave ran straight into the rock. Finally we found ourselves climbing upon our hands and knees. Suddenly an exclamation broke from Lord Roxton.

“It’s blocked!” said he. “The roof has fallen in!”

It was evident that the obstacle was far beyond any efforts which we could make to remove it. The road by which Maple White had ascended was no longer available.

Too much depressed to speak, we made our way back to the camp. And then something terrible happened. We had gathered in a little group, when a huge rock rolled suddenly downwards. We could not see where the rock had come, but our half-breed servants said that it must therefore have fallen from the summit. Looking upwards, we could see no sign of movement above us. There could be little doubt, however, that the stone was aimed at us, so the incident surely pointed to humanity… upon the plateau.

Our minds were full of this new development. The situation was difficult enough before, but if the obstacles of Nature were increased by the opposition of man, then our case was a hopeless one. And yet, as we looked up at that beautiful world only a few hundreds of feet above our heads, nobody thought of returning to London until we had explored it.

On discussing the situation, we determined that our best course was to continue to coast round the plateau in the hope of finding some other means of reaching the top. At the worst, then, we should be back in a few days at our starting-point.

We noticed a considerable change both in the temperature and in the vegetation and got rid of some of that horrible insects.

That night a great experience awaited us, and one which for ever set at rest any doubt. What occurred was this. Lord John had shot an ajouti – which is a small, pig-like animal – and we were cooking it on our fire. The night was moonless, but there were some stars, and one could see for a little distance across the plain. Well, suddenly out of the darkness, out of the night, there appeared something with a sound like an aeroplane. The whole group of us were covered for a second by leathery wings, and I saw a long, snake-like neck, a fierce, red, greedy eye, and a great beak, filled, to my amazement, with little, gleaming teeth. The next second it was gone… and so was our dinner. For a moment the monster wings covered the stars, and then it vanished behind the cliff. We all sat in amazed silence round the fire. It was Summerlee who was the first to speak.

“Professor Challenger,” said he, in a solemn voice, “I owe you an apology. Sir, I hope that you will forget what is past.”

The two men for the first time shook hands. We have gained so much by this clear vision of our first pterodactyl! It was worth a stolen supper to bring two such men together.

But if prehistoric life existed on the plateau it was not in abundance, for we didn’t see any other prehistoric animals during the next three days. We continued to walk around the cliffs. However, in no place did we find any point where they could be ascended.

On the sixth day we completed our first circuit of the cliffs, and found ourselves back at the first camp, beside the isolated rock.

What were we to do now? Our stores of provisions, supplemented by our guns, were holding out well, but the day must come when they would need replenishment. In a couple of months the rains might be expected, and we should be washed out of our camp. No wonder that we looked gloomily at each other that night.

But it was a very different Challenger who greeted us in the morning… a Challenger with contentment and self-congratulation shining from his whole person.

“Eureka!” he cried, his teeth shining through his beard. “Gentlemen, you may congratulate me and we may congratulate each other. The problem is solved.”

And he pointed to the spire-like pinnacle upon our right.

We know that it could be climbed. But a horrible gap lay between it and the plateau.

“We can never get across,” I gasped.

“We can at least all reach the summit,” said he. “When we are up I may be able to show you that the resources of an inventive mind are not yet exhausted.”

After breakfast our leader unpacked his climbing accessories. John was an experienced mountaineer, and Summerlee had done some climbing at various times. And my strength and activity may have made up for[55] my lack of experience.

It was not a very difficult task, although there were moments which made my hair move upon my head. When we found ourselves on the small platform, some twenty-five feet each way, which formed the summit, we saw a great view. The whole Brazilian plain seemed to lie beneath us. I could see the yellow and green mass of bamboos through which we had passed; and then, gradually, the vegetation increased until it formed the huge forest which extended as far as the eyes could reach, and for a good two thousand miles beyond.

I placed one arm round the trunk of the tree and saw the small dark figures of our servants, looking up at us.

“This is indeed curious,” said the creaking voice of Professor Summerlee.

I turned, and found that he was examining with great interest the tree to which I clung. That smooth bark and those small, ribbed leaves seemed familiar to my eyes. “It’s a beech![56]” I cried.

“Exactly,” said Summerlee. “And this tree will be our saviour.”

“My God!” cried Lord John, “a bridge!”

“Exactly, my friends, a bridge! There is always a way out.”

It was certainly a brilliant idea. The tree was a good sixty feet in height, and if it only fell the right way it would easily cross the chasm. Challenger handed the axe to me.

So under his direction I cut such gashes in the sides of the trees as would ensure that it should fall as we desired. It had already a strong, natural tilt in the direction of the plateau, so that the matter was not difficult. In a little over an hour there was a loud crack and the tree crashed over, for one terrible second we all thought it was over. But it balanced itself, a few inches from the edge, and there was our bridge to the unknown.

All of us, without a word, shook hands with Professor Challenger.

“I claim the honour,” said he, “to be the first to cross to the unknown land…”

He had approached the bridge when Lord John laid his hand on his shoulder.

“My dear friend,” said he, “I really cannot allow it. There may be a tribe of cannibals waiting for lunch-time among those very bushes. Malone and I will go down again and fetch up the four rifles, together with Gomez and the other. One man can then go across and the rest will cover him with guns, until he sees that it is safe for the whole crowd to come along.”

Summerlee and I were of one mind that Lord John was our leader when such practical details were in question. Within an hour we had brought up the rifles and a shot-gun. The half-breeds had ascended also, and under Lord John’s orders they had carried up a bale of provisions in case our first exploration should be a long one.

“Now, Challenger, if you really insist upon being the first man in,” said Lord John, when every preparation was complete.

“I don’t need your permission,” said the angry Professor.

It didn’t take Challenger long to cross the chasm and he was soon at the other side. He waved his arms in the air.

“At last!” he cried; “at last!”

Summerlee was the second. I came next, and tried hard not to look down into the horrible gulf over which I was passing. As to Lord John, he walked across… actually walked! He must have nerves of iron.

And there we were, the four of us, upon the dreamland, the lost world, of Maple White. It seemed the moment of our supreme triumph. Who could have guessed that it was the prelude to our supreme disaster?

We had turned away from the edge, when there came a frightful crash from behind us. We rushed back – the bridge was gone!

Far down we saw our beech tree broken to pieces. Then we saw Gomez on the opposite side, with a face convulsed with hatred and with the mad joy of revenge.

“Lord Roxton!” he shouted. “Lord John Roxton!”

“Well,” said our companion, “here I am.”

A shriek of laughter came across the abyss.

“Yes, there you are, you English dog, and there you will remain! I have waited and waited, and now has come my chance. We nearly killed you with a stone at the cave,” he cried; “but this is better. It is slower and more terrible. As you lie dying, think of Lopez, whom you shot five years ago on the Putomayo River. I am his brother, and I will die happy now, for his memory has been avenged.” A furious hand was shaken at us, and then all was quiet. The half-breed was descending on the farther side of the pinnacle. But before he could reach the ground, there was a single crack of Lord John’s rifle, and, although we saw nothing, we heard the scream and then the distant sound of the falling body. Roxton came back to us with a face of granite.

“I have been so blind,” said he, bitterly, “It’s my fault that has brought you all into this trouble. I should have remembered that these people have long memories.”

“What about the other one? It took two of them to push that tree over the edge.”

“I let him go. He may have had no part in it. Perhaps it would have been better if I had killed him.”

We were still discussing the whole situation, when a singular scene in the plain below caught our attention.

A man in white clothes, who could only be the surviving half-breed, was running. And behind him, was a huge figure of Zambo, our devoted negro. Finally he reached him. A moment afterwards Zambo rose, and then, waving his hand joyously to us, came running in our direction. The white figure lay motionless.

Our two traitors were dead, but we were still in trouble. By no possible means could we get back to Zambo. We had been natives of the world, now we were natives of the plateau. The two things were separate and apart.

For the moment we could only sit among the bushes in patience and wait the coming of Zambo. Presently his honest black face topped the rocks and his Herculean figure emerged upon the top of the pinnacle.

“What I do now?” he cried. “You tell me and I do it.”

One thing only was clear. He was our one link with the outside world. On no account he must leave us.

“No, no!” he cried. “I not leave you. You always find me here. But can’t keep Indians. Too much Curupuri and they go home.”

“Make them wait till tomorrow, Zambo,” I shouted; “then I can send letter back by them.”

“Very good, sir! I promise they wait till tomorrow,” said the negro. “But what I do for you now?”

First of all, under our directions, he threw one end of the rope across the chasm to us. He then fastened his end of the rope to the package of supplies which had been carried up, and we were able to drag it across. This gave us the means of life for at least a week, even if we found nothing else. Finally he descended and carried up two other packets of mixed goods – a box of ammunition and a number of other things, all of which we got across by throwing our rope to him and hauling it back. It was evening when he at last climbed down. He promised us to keep the Indians till next morning.

And so I have spent nearly the whole of this our first night on the plateau writing up our experiences by the light of a single candle-lantern.

We camped at the very edge of the cliff and decided not to light fire or to make any unnecessary sound.

Tomorrow (or today because it is already dawn as I write) we shall begin to explore this strange land. Don’t know if I ever shall write again… Meanwhile, I can see that the Indians are still in their place, and I am sure that the faithful Zambo will be here to get my letter.

P. S. The more I think the more desperate does our position seem. I see no possible hope of our return. If there were a high tree near the edge of the plateau we might drop a return bridge across, but there is none within fifty yards. The rope, of course, is far too short that we could descend by it. No, our position is hopeless… hopeless!

The most wonderful things have happened and are happening to us. All the paper that I possess consists of five old note-books, and I have only the one pencil. But so long as I can move my hand I will continue to write down our experiences and impressions, since we are the only men to see such things.

On the morning after our being trapped upon the plateau by Gomez we began a new stage in our experiences. First we shifted our position to a small clearing thickly surrounded by trees. There we sat in comfort while we made our first plans for the invasion of this new country. There were no signs of life except some birds.

Our first care was to make a list of our own stores, so that we might know what we had to rely on. With the things that Zambo had sent across on the rope, we were very well supplied. We had our four rifles and a shot-gun. In the matter of provisions we had enough to last for several weeks,[57] with tobacco and a few scientific implements, including a large telescope and binoculars. We cut down with our knives thorny bushes, which we piled round in a circle some fifteen yards in diameter. This was to be our refuge against sudden danger and the house for our stores. Fort Challenger, we called it.

“So long as neither man nor beast has seen or heard us, we are safe,” said he. “From the time they know we are here our troubles begin. There are no signs that they have found us out as yet. We want to have a good look at our neighbours before we get on visiting terms.”

“But we must go further,” I said.

“By all means, my boy! We will go further. But with common sense. Above all, we must never, unless it is life or death, fire off our guns.”

“But YOU fired yesterday,” said Summerlee.

“Well, I had to. However, the wind was strong. It is not likely that the sound could have travelled far into the plateau. By the way, what shall we call this land?”

“It can only have one name,” said he. “It is called after the man who discovered it. It is Maple White Land.”

So we knew that the place was inhabited by some unknown creatures, and there was that of Maple White’s sketch-book to show that more dreadful and more dangerous monsters might still appear. Our situation was clearly full of danger.

We therefore blocked the entrance to our refuge with several thorny bushes, and left our camp following a small river. Hardly had we started our journey when we came across signs that there were indeed wonders awaiting us. We entered a region where the stream widened out. Suddenly Lord John, who was walking first, stopped.

“Look at this!” said he. “By George,[58] this must be the trail of the father of all birds!”

An enormous three-toed track was imprinted in the soft mud before us. If it were indeed a bird… its foot must be enormous. Lord John looked eagerly round him.

“The track is a fresh one,” said he, “The creature has not passed ten minutes. My God! See, here is the mark of a little one!”

Sure enough, smaller tracks of the same general form were running parallel to the large ones.

“But what do you make of this?” cried Professor Summerlee, pointing to what looked like the huge print of a five-fingered hand among the three-toed marks.

“I guess I know!” cried Challenger, in an ecstasy. “It is a creature walking erect upon three-toed feet, and occasionally putting one of its five-fingered forepaws on the ground. Not a bird, my dear Roxton… not a bird.”

“A beast?”

“No, a reptile – a dinosaur. Nothing else could have left such a track. Who in the world could have hoped to have seen a sight like that?”

Following the tracks, we passed through brushwood and trees. Beyond was an open area, and there were five of the most extraordinary creatures that I have ever seen. Two being adults and three young ones. In size they were enormous. Even the babies were as big as elephants! All five were sitting up, balancing themselves upon their broad, powerful tails and their huge three-toed hind-feet, while with their small five-fingered front-feet they pulled down the branches. I do not know that I can describe their appearance to you better than by saying that they looked like monstrous kangaroos, with skins like black crocodiles.

I do not know how long we stayed motionless gazing at this marvelous spectacle. A strong wind blew towards us and we were well concealed, so there was no chance of discovery. The strength of the parents seemed to be limitless, for one of them, having some difficulty in reaching leaves, put his fore-legs round the trunk and tore it down. The action seemed, as I thought, to show not only the great development of its muscles, but also the small one of its brain. The tree came crashing on the head of it. The incident made it think, apparently, that the neighbourhood was dangerous, and it slowly went through the wood, followed by its mate and its three enormous babies. Then they vanished from our sight.

I looked at my companions. Lord John was standing next to me, his eager hunter’s soul shining from his eyes. The two professors were in silent ecstasy. In their excitement they stood like two little children in the presence of a wonder.

“Oh my!” Sammerlee cried at last. “What will they say in England of this?”

“My dear Summerlee, I will tell you with great confidence exactly what they will say in England,” said Challenger. “They will say that you are an infernal liar and a scientific charlatan, exactly as you and others said of me.”

“But photographs?”

“Faked, Summerlee! Only faked!”

“Specimens?”

“Things look a bit different from London.” said Lord John. “Who’s to blame them? WHAT did you say they were?”

“Iguanodons,” said Summerlee. “You’ll find their footmarks all over the Hastings sands, in Kent, and in Sussex. The South of England was alive with them when there was plenty of leaves there. Conditions have changed, and the beasts died. Here it seems that the conditions have not changed, and the beasts have lived.”

“If ever we get out of this alive, I must have a head with me…” said Lord John.

I had the feeling of mystery and danger around us. In the gloom of the trees there seemed a constant menace. It is true that these monstrous creatures which we had seen were peaceful, which were unlikely to hurt anyone, but in this world of wonders what other survivals might there be? I knew little of prehistoric life, but I remembered clearly one book where it was told that the dinosaurs would live on our lions and tigers as a cat lives on mice. What if these also were to be found in the woods of Maple White Land!

It was destined that on this very morning we were to find out what dangers lay around us. Surely the swamp of the pterodactyls will forever be our nightmare. Let me tell exactly what happened.

We passed very slowly through the woods. Our professors would fall, with a cry of wonder, before some flower or insect which presented him with a new type. Finally we came on a considerable opening in the trees. A belt of brushwood led up to a tangle of rocks – the whole plateau was strewn with boulders. We were walking slowly towards these rocks, when we heard a strange whistling sound. Lord John held up his hand as a signal for us to stop, and made his way to the line of rocks. We saw him look over them and give a gesture of amazement. Finally he waved us to come on, holding up his hand as a signal for caution. It made me feel that something wonderful but dangerous lay before us.

Creeping to his side, we looked over the rocks. The place into which we gazed was a pit, and may, in the early days, have been one of the smaller volcanic blow-holes of the plateau. It was bowl-shaped and at the bottom, some hundreds of yards from where we lay, were pools of green water. The place was a swamp of pterodactyls. There were hundreds and hundreds of them. We saw their young ones and monstrous mothers sitting on their leathery, yellowish eggs. From this reptilian life came the shocking clamor which filled the air and the horrible smell turned us sick. Large and small, not less than a thousand of these filthy creatures lay in the hollow before us.

Our professors would have stayed there all day, so carried away were they with this opportunity of studying the life of a prehistoric age. They pointed out the fish and dead birds lying about among the rocks as proving the nature of the food of these creatures. I heard them congratulating each other on having cleared up the point why the bones of this flying dragon are found in such great numbers in certain well-defined areas, since it was now seen that, like penguins, they lived in great companies.

Finally, however, Challenger showed his head over the rock and nearly brought trouble upon us all. The nearest male gave a shrill, whistling cry, and flapped its twenty-foot span of leathery wings as it soared up into the air. The females and young ones huddled together beside the water, while the whole circle of sentinels rose one after the other and sailed off into the sky. It was a wonderful sight to see at least a hundred creatures of such enormous size, but soon we realized the danger. Then, their flight grew lower and the circle narrower, until they were whizzing round and round us.

The moment we attempted to retreat the circle closed in upon us, until the wings of those nearest to us nearly touched our faces. We beat at them with the stocks of our guns, but there was nothing solid or vulnerable to strike – they started attacking us. Summerlee gave a cry and put his hand to his face, from which the blood was streaming. Suddenly I felt pain at the back of my neck. At the same moment I heard the crash of Lord John’s gun, and saw one of the creatures with a broken wing struggling upon the ground, spitting and gurgling at us with a wide-opened beak and blood-shot, goggled eyes, like some devil in a medieval picture. Its comrades had flown higher at the sudden sound, and were circling above our heads.

“Now,” cried Lord John, “now for our lives![59]”

We rushed to the brushwood, and even as we reached the trees the harpies were on us again. Once there we were safe, because their huge wings had no space for their sweep beneath the branches. We saw them for a long time flying at a great height against the deep blue sky above our heads, soaring round and round. At last, however, as we reached the thicker woods they gave up the chase, and we saw them no more.

“A most interesting experience,” said Challenger, as we halted beside the brook and he bathed a swollen knee. “We are exceptionally well informed, Summerlee, as to the habits of the enraged pterodactyl.”

Summerlee was wiping the blood from a cut in his forehead, while I was tying up a nasty stab in the back of my neck. Lord John had the shoulder of his coat torn away, but the creature’s teeth had only grazed the flesh.

“It is worth noting,” Challenger continued, “that our young friend has received a stab, while Lord John’s coat could only have been torn by a bite. In my own case, I was beaten about the head by their wings, so we have observed their various methods of their attack.”

“It has been touch and go for our lives,” said Lord John, gravely, “I was sorry to fire my rifle, but there was no great choice. Now, I think… we have had thrills enough for one day, and had better get back to the camp for some carbolic. Who knows what poison these beasts may have in their jaws?”

When we at last reached our refuge, we thought that our adventures were at an end. The gate of Fort Challenger had been untouched, the walls were unbroken, and yet it had been visited by some strange and powerful creature in our absence. No foot-mark showed a trace of its nature but our stores were thrown at random all over the ground, and one tin of meat had been crushed into pieces. Again the feeling of vague horror came upon our souls, and we gazed round with frightened eyes at the dark shadows which lay around us. How good it was when we heard the voice of Zambo, and, going to the edge of the plateau, saw him sitting grinning at us on the top of the opposite rock.

“All well, Massa Challenger, all well!” he cried. “Me stay here. No fear. You always find me when you want.”

His honest black face helped us to remember that we really were on this earth in the twentieth century, and had not by some magic been placed to some planet in its earliest and wildest state.

One other memory remains with me of this day, and with it I will close this letter. The two professors started their scientific discussions. And I moved some little way apart in order to avoid their disputes. I was seated smoking on the trunk of a fallen tree, when Lord John came up to me.

“Look, Malone,” said he, “do you remember that place where those beasts were?”

“Very clearly.”

“A sort of volcanic pit?”

“Exactly,” said I.

“Did you notice the soil?”

“Rocks.”

“But round the water… where the reeds were?”

“It looked like clay.”

“Exactly. A volcanic tube full of blue clay.”

“What of that?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” said he. Once again that night I heard him mutter to himself: “Blue clay… clay in a volcanic tube!” They were the last words I heard before I fell into an exhausted sleep.

Lord John Roxton was right when he thought that some specially toxic quality might lie in the bite of the horrible creatures which had attacked us. On the morning after our first adventure upon the plateau, both Summerlee and I were in great pain[60] and fever, while Challenger’s knee was so bruised that he could hardly walk. We spent all day in our camp, helping Lord John in raising the height and thickness of the thorny walls which were our only defense. I remember that during the whole long day I was haunted by the feeling that we were closely observed…

So strong was the impression that I told Professor Challenger of it, who said that it was caused by my fever. Again and again I glanced round, and yet the feeling grew ever stronger in my own mind that something observant and something dangerous was around us. I thought of the Indian superstition of the Curupuri – the dreadful spirit of the woods – and I could have imagined that his terrible presence haunted those who had invaded his land.

That night (our third in Maple White Land) we had an experience which left a fearful impression on our minds, and made us thankful that Lord John had worked so hard in making our refuge safe. We were all sleeping round our dying fire when we were aroused by a succession of the most frightful cries and screams, full of agony and horror. A cold sweat broke out over my body, and my heart turned sick at the misery of it. And then, under this high-pitched sound there was another, a low, deep-chested laugh, a growling. For three or four minutes the fearsome duet continued. Then it shut off as suddenly as it began. For a long time we sat in horrified silence. Then Lord John threw a couple of branches on the fire, and their red glare lit up the intent faces of my companions.

“What was it?” I whispered.

“We shall know in the morning,” said Lord John. “It was close to us…”

“We have just overheard a prehistoric tragedy, when the greater dragon killed the weaker one,” said Challenger, with more solemnity than I had ever heard in his voice.

Summerlee raised his hand.

“Hush!” he cried. “I hear something…”

From the silence there emerged a deep, regular pat-pat. Some animal placed its heavy pads cautiously upon the ground. It got nearer that we could hear the breathing of the creature. Only our hedge separated us from this horror of the night. Each of us had seized his rifle, and Lord John had pulled out a small bush to have a look at it.

“By George!” he whispered. “I see it!”

Yes, I could see it, too. In the deep shadow of the tree there was a deeper shadow – it was no higher than a horse, but everything spoke of its strength. Once, as it moved, I thought I saw two terrible, greenish eyes. There was an uneasy rustling, as if it were crawling slowly forward.

“I believe it is going to jump!” said I, taking my rifle.

“Don’t fire! Don’t fire!” whispered Lord John. “The crash of a gun in this silent night would be heard for miles. Keep it as a last card.”

“If it gets over the hedge we’re done,[61]” said Summerlee.

“No, it must not get over,” cried Lord John; “but hold your fire to the last. Perhaps I can make something of the fellow. I’ll try it.”

It was as brave an act as ever I saw a man do. He came up to the fire, picked up a blazing branch, and slipped through our gateway. The thing moved forward with a dreadful sound. Lord John never hesitated, and dashed the flaming wood into its face. For one moment I had a vision of a horrible head like a giant toad’s. The next, our dreadful visitor was gone.

“I thought he was afraid of fire,” said Lord John, laughing, as he came back.

“You should not have taken such a risk!” we all cried.

“There was nothing else to be done. If it had got here we should have shot each other in the darkness. What was it, then?”

Our learned men looked at each other with some hesitation.

“I am unable to classify the creature with any certainty,” said Summerlee, lighting his pipe from the fire.

“Me too,” said Challenger, with massive condescension. “Tomorrow some further evidence may help us to an identification. Meantime we can only renew our interrupted sleep.”

“But not without a watchman,” said Lord John. “We can’t afford to take chances in a country like this.”

“Then I’ll just finish my pipe in starting the first watch,” said Professor Summerlee; and from that time onwards we never trusted ourselves again without a watchman.

In the morning we discovered the source of the cry which had aroused us in the night. The iguanodon glade was the scene of a horrible tragedy. There were a lot of blood and enormous lumps of flesh in every direction over the green grass. The poor iguanodon had been literally torn to pieces by some creature not larger, perhaps, but far more dreadful.

Our two professors examined piece after piece, which showed the marks of savage teeth and of enormous claws.

“Our judgment must still be not precise,” said Professor Challenger, with a huge piece of whitish-coloured flesh across his knee. “It could be a saber-toothed tiger, such as are still found; but the creature actually seen was undoubtedly of a larger and more reptilian character. Personally, I should say it was allosaurus.”

“Or megalosaurus,” said Summerlee.

“Exactly. Any one of the larger dinosaurs would meet the case. Among them are to be found all the most terrible types of animal life that have ever cursed the earth or blessed a museum.” And he laughed at his own joke.

“Hush! The less noise, the better,” said Lord Roxton. “We don’t know who or what may be near us. By the way, what is this mark upon the iguanodon’s hide?”

On the dull skin somewhere above the shoulder, there was a singular black circle of some substance which looked like asphalt. None of us could suggest what it meant, though Summerlee was of opinion that he had seen something similar upon one of the young ones two days before. Challenger said nothing, but looked pompous, so that finally Lord John asked his opinion direct.

“If your lordship will graciously permit me to open my mouth, I shall be happy to express my opinion,” said he, with sarcasm. “I am inclined to agree with my friend and colleague, Professor Summerlee, that the stains are from asphalt. As this plateau is, in its very nature, highly volcanic, I cannot doubt that the asphalt exists in the free liquid state, and that the creatures may have come in contact with it. A much more important problem is the question as to the existence of the carnivorous monster which has left its traces in this glade. I hope we may have some future opportunity for the closer study of the carnivorous dinosaurs.”

“And I hope we may not,” I said.

The Professor only raised his great eyebrows.

That morning we mapped out[62] a small portion of the plateau, avoiding the swamp of the pterodactyls, and keeping to the east of our small river instead of to the west. In that direction the country was still thickly wooded that slowed down the whole process.

I have told up to now only the terrors of Maple White Land; but there was another side to the subject, for all that morning we wandered among lovely flowers – in many places the ground was absolutely covered with them. Many of the trees under which we passed had their branches bowed down with fruit, some of which were of familiar sorts, while other varieties were new. By observing which of them were pecked by the birds we avoided all danger of poison and added a delicious variety to our food reserve. In the jungle there were numerous paths made by the wild beasts, including iguanodons. Once we observed several of these great creatures grazing, and Lord John, with his binoculars, was able to say that they also were spotted with asphalt.

Ever since the mysterious visit which had been paid to our camp we always returned to it expecting the worst. However, on this occasion we found everything in order.

That evening we had a great discussion on our present situation and future plans, which I must describe at some length, as it led to a new departure by which we were enabled to gain a more complete knowledge of Maple White Land than might have come in many weeks of exploring. It was Summerlee who opened the debate.

“What we ought to be doing today, tomorrow, and all the time,” said he, “is finding some way out of the trap into which we have fallen. You are all turning your brains towards getting into this country. I say that we should be thinking how to get out of it.”

“I am surprised, sir,” boomed Challenger. “You are in a land which offers lots of discoveries, and you suggest leaving it. I expected better things of you, Professor Summerlee.”

“I must say,” said Lord John, “that I think it would be not reasonable to go back to London before I know a great deal more of this place.”

“And I could never dare to walk into the back office of my paper and face old McArdle,” said I. (You will excuse the frankness of this report, will you not, sir?) “He’d never forgive me for leaving such unexhausted copy behind me. Besides, so far as I can see it is not worth discussing, since we can’t get down, even if we wanted.”

“Our young friend makes up for many obvious mental lacunae by some measure of primitive common sense, remarked Challenger. “The interests of his deplorable profession are immaterial to us; but, as he observes, we cannot get down in any case, so it is a waste of energy to discuss it.”

“Let me remind you,” growled Summerlee from behind his pipe, “that we came here on a perfectly definite mission. That mission was to test the truth of Professor Challenger’s statements. Those statements, I should admit, we are now in a position to confirm. Our work is therefore done. As to the detail which remains… the plateau is so enormous that only a large expedition, with a very special equipment, could hope to cope with it. Should we attempt to do so ourselves, the only possible result must be that we shall never return with the important contribution to science which we have already gained.”

I confess that it struck me as very reasonable. Even Challenger was affected by the consideration that his enemies would never stand confuted if the confirmation of his statements should never reach those who had doubted them.

“The problem of the descent is a formidable one,” said he, “and yet I cannot doubt that the intellect can solve it. But I absolutely refuse to leave, however, until we have made at least a superficial examination of this country and drawn a map.”

Professor Summerlee gave a snort of impatience.

“We have spent two long days in exploration,” said he, “it would take months to penetrate it and to learn the relations of one part to another. If there were some central peak it would be different…”

It was at that moment that I had my inspiration. My eyes fell upon the enormous trunk of the gingko tree which cast its huge branches over us. Surely it was very high. Then why should this mighty tree not be a watchtower? My companions might be the masters on the rocks, but I knew that I would be supreme among those branches. My friends were delighted at my idea.

“Our young friend,” said Challenger, bunching up the red apples of his cheeks, “is capable of acrobatic exertions which would be impossible to a man of a more solid, though possibly of a more commanding, appearance. I applaud his resolution.”

“By George, my son, it’s great!” said Lord John, clapping me on the back. “How we never came to think of it before I can’t imagine! There’s not more than an hour of daylight left, but if you take your notebook you may be able to get some rough sketch of the place.”

I started climbing onwards with such speed that I soon lost sight of the ground and had nothing but leaves beneath me. I made excellent progress, and now the sound of Challenger’s voice seemed to be a great distance beneath me. The tree was, however, enormous, and, looking upwards, I could see no thinning of the leaves above my head. Then I saw something which seemed to be a parasite upon a branch up which I was holding. I leaned my head round it in order to see what it was, and I nearly fell out of the tree in my surprise and horror at what I saw.

A face was gazing into mine… at the distance of only a foot or two. It was a human face… or at least it was far more human than any monkey’s face. It was long, whitish, and blotched with pimples, the nose flattened, and the lower jaw projecting, with a bristle of coarse whiskers round the chin. The eyes, which were under thick and heavy brows, were angry, and as it opened its mouth to snarl what sounded like a curse at me I observed that it had curved, sharp teeth. For an instant I read hatred and menace in the evil eyes. Then, as quick as a flash, came an expression of overpowering fear. There was a crash of broken branches as it disappeared into the green. I caught a glimpse of a hairy body like that of a reddish pig.

“What’s the matter?” shouted Roxton from below. “Anything wrong with you?”

“Did you see it?” I cried, with my arms round the branch.

“We heard a noise. What was it?”

I was so shocked at the sudden and strange appearance of this ape-man[63] that I hesitated whether I should not climb down again and tell my experience to my companions. But I was already so far up the great tree that it seemed a humiliation to return without having carried out my mission.[64]

After a long pause, therefore, to recover my breath and my courage, I continued my ascent. Gradually the leaves thinned around me, and soon I reached the top. There I settled into a convenient branch, and, balancing myself securely, I found myself looking down at a most wonderful panorama of this strange country in which we found ourselves.

The sun was just above the western sky-line, and the evening was a particularly bright and clear one, so that the whole plateau was visible.

It was oval, about thirty miles long and twenty miles wide. There was a lake which was situated right in the centre. It lay very green and beautiful in the evening light, with a thick wall of reeds at its edges. Several yellow sandbanks gleamed golden in the sunshine. I could see a number of long dark objects, too large for alligators and too long for canoes. They were definetely alive but I couldn’t recognize what the creatures they were. In the wood I could see the glade of the iguanodones and the swamp of the pterodactyls. On the opposite side the plateau looked different: lots of cliffs and caves. Along the base of the red cliffs, some distance above the ground, I could see a number of dark caves through the binoculars. At the opening of one of these something white was shimmering, but I was unable to make out what it was. I sat mapping the country until the sun had set and it was so dark that I could no longer distinguish details. Then I climbed down to my companions waiting for me so eagerly at the bottom of the great tree. For once I was the hero of the expedition. Alone I had thought of it, and alone I had done it; and here was the map which would save us a month. Each of them shook me solemnly by the hand.

But before they discussed the details of my map I had to tell them of the ape-man among the branches.

“He has been there all the time,” said I.

“How do you know that?” asked Lord John.

“Because I have always had that feeling that something was watching us. I mentioned it to you, Professor Challenger.”

“Our young friend certainly said something of the kind. Tell me, now,” he added, “did you happen to observe whether the creature could cross its thumb over its palm?”

“No, indeed.”

“Did it have a tail?”

“No.”

“Did it use its feet as hands?”

“I do not think it could have climbed so fast among the branches if it could not get a grip with its feet.”

“In South America there are thirty-six species of monkeys, but the ape is unknown. It is clear, however, that he exists in this country. The question which we have to face is whether he approaches more closely to the ape or the man. In the latter case, he may well approximate to what the vulgar have called the ‘missing link’.[65] The solution of this problem is our immediate duty.”

“It is nothing of the sort,” said Summerlee, abruptly. “Now that, we have got our map, our one and only immediate duty is to get ourselves safe and sound out of this awful place. It is our task to put on record[66] what we have seen, and to leave the further exploration to others. You all agreed before Mr. Malone got us the map.”

“Well,” said Challenger, “I admit that I will be more satisfied when I am assured that the result of our expedition has been delivered to our friends. How we are to get down from this place I have not as yet an idea. I have never faced any problem, which my inventive brain was unable to solve, and I promise you that tomorrow I will turn my attention to the question of our descent.”

But that evening, by the light of the fire and of a single candle, the first map of the lost world was elaborated.[67] Every detail which I had roughly noted from my watch-tower was drawn out in its relative place.

“What shall we call the lake?” Challenger asked.

“Why should you not take the chance of using your own name?” said Summerlee, with his usual touch of acidity.

“I trust, sir, I need no such monument,” said Challenger, severely.

“It’s up to you,[68] my friend Malone, to name the lake,” said Lord John. “You saw it first, and if you choose to put ‘Lake Malone’ on it, no one has a better right.”

“By all means. Let our young friend give it a name,” said Challenger.

“Then,” said I, blushing, “let it be named Lake Gladys.”

“Don’t you think the Central Lake would be more descriptive?” remarked Summerlee.

“I should prefer Lake Gladys.”

Challenger looked at me and shook his great head in disapproval. “Boys will be boys,” said he. “Lake Gladys let it be.”

I have said that I beamed with pride when three such men as my companions thanked me for having saved the situation. As the youngest of the party I had been overshadowed from the first. And now I was coming into my own. That little glow of self-satisfaction, that added measure of self-confidence, were to lead me on that very night to the most dreadful experience of my life, ending with a shock which turns my heart sick when I think of it.

That is what happened. I had been very excited by the adventure of the tree, and sleep seemed impossible to me. Summerlee was on guard, sitting hunched over our small fire and dozing. The full moon was shining brightly, and the air was cold. What a night for a walk! And then suddenly came the thought, “Why not?” Suppose I made my way down to the central lake, suppose I was back at breakfast with some record of the place… I thought of Gladys, with her “There are heroisms all round us.” I seemed to hear her voice as she said it. I thought also of McArdle. What an article for the paper! What a foundation for a career! I took my rifle, my pockets were full of cartridges, and quickly slipped out.[69]

I had not gone a hundred yards before I deeply regretted my impulsiveness. I have already said that I am not a really brave man, but I have an overpowering fear of seeming afraid. This was the power which now carried me onwards. I simply could not come back with nothing done.

It was dreadful in the forest. The trees grew so thickly and their foliage spread so widely that I could see nothing. I thought of the horrible cry of the iguanodon… that dreadful cry which had echoed through the woods. I thought, too, of that terrible creature. Now I was on its hunting-ground. I stopped, and as I touched my gun my heart leaped[70] within me. It was the shot-gun,[71] not the rifle, which I had taken!

Here, surely, was a most excellent reason for coming back… But again my foolish pride fought that idea. After all, my rifle would probably have been as useless as a shot-gun against such dangers as I might meet. After a little hesitation, I screwed up my courage[72] and continued upon my way, my useless gun under my arm. Soon I discovered once again the brook which was my guide. It was a cheery companion, gurgling and chuckling as it ran. So long as I followed it down I must come to the lake, and so long as I followed it back I must come to the camp.

The woods became thinner, and bushes took the place of the forest. I could make good progress, therefore, and I could see without being seen. I passed close to the pterodactyl swamp, and as I did so, one of these great creatures rose up from somewhere near me and soared into the air. It looked like a flying skeleton against the moon-light. I lay among the bushes as I knew from past experience that with a single cry the creature could bring a hundred of its mates. It took me some time before I continued my journey.

The night had been exceedingly still, but as I walked on I heard a low sound somewhere in front of me. Soon I came upon the source of it, for in the centre of a small clearing I found a lake, or a pool, rather, some black, pitch-like stuff, the surface of which rose and fell in great blisters of bursting gas. The air above it was shimmering with heat. It was clear that the great volcanic outburst which had raised this strange plateau so many years ago had not yet entirely spent its forces. This asphalt pool in the jungle was the first sign that we had of actual existing activity on the slopes of the ancient crater. I had no time to examine it further for I had to hurry if I were to be back in camp in the morning.

In the jungle I crept forward, stopping with a beating heart whenever I heard, as I often did, the crash of breaking branches as some wild beast went past. Now and then great shadows loomed up for an instant and were gone…

At last (my watch showed that it was one in the morning) I saw the gleam of water and ten minutes later I was among the reeds upon the borders of the central lake. I was extremely thirsty, so I lay down and drank its waters, which were fresh and cold. There was a broad pathway with many tracks upon it at the spot which I had found, so that it was clearly one of the drinking-places of the animals. Close to the water’s edge there was a huge isolated block of lava. I climbed it, and, lying on the top, I had an excellent view in every direction.

The first thing which I saw filled me with amazement. When I described the view from the top of the great tree, I said that on the farther cliff I could see a number of dark caves. Now, as I looked up at the same cliffs, I saw light in every direction. For a moment I thought it was the lava-glow; but this could not be so. It was wonderful, but these spots must be the reflection of fires within the caves… fires which could only be lit by the hand of man. There were human beings on the plateau! Here was news indeed for us to bring back with us to London!

For a long time I lay and watched these red lights. It was out of the question for the moment, and yet surely we could not leave the plateau until we found out the truth.

Lake Gladys – my own lake – lay with a reflected moon shining brightly in the centre of it. It was not very deep. Everywhere on the still surface I could see signs of life, sometimes mere rings and ripples in the water, sometimes the gleam of a great silver-sided fish in the air, sometimes the black-coloured back of some monster. I watched two creatures come down to the drinking-place. Then a huge deer, with branching horns, came down with its doe and two fawns and drank beside those two creatures. A minute later the deer gave a warning snort, and was off with its family among the reeds. A new-comer, a most monstrous animal, was coming down the path.

For a moment I wondered where I could have seen it, that arched back with triangular fringes along it, that strange bird-like head held close to the ground. It was the stegosaurus… the very creature which Maple White had drawn in his sketch-book, and which had been the first object which arrested the attention of Challenger! There it was… The ground shook beneath its tremendous weight. For five minutes he was so close to my rock that by stretching out my hand I could have touched its back. Then it walked away and was lost among the trees.

Looking at my watch, I saw that it was half-past two o’clock, and high time that I started on my homeward journey. There was no difficulty about the direction in which I should return as I had the little brook on my left. I set off, therefore, in high spirits,[73] I felt that I had done good work and was bringing back lots of news for my companions. Foremost of all, of course, were the sight of the caves and the certainty that some human race inhabited them. But besides that I could tell them about the central lake. It was full of strange creatures, and I had seen several land forms of primeval life which we had not before come across.

I was thinking it over, when my mind was brought back by a strange noise behind me. It was something between a snore and a growl, low and deep. Some strange creature was evidently near me, but nothing could be seen, so I went faster on my way. After a mile or so suddenly the sound was repeated, still behind me, but louder. My heart stood still within me, whatever it was, must surely be after ME. My skin grew cold and my hair rose at the thought. With my knees shaking beneath me, I stood and glared with starting eyes down the moonlit path which lay behind me. All was quiet as in a dream landscape. Then from out of the silence there came once more that low, far louder and closer breathing than before. There could no longer be a doubt. Something was on my trail,[74] and was closing every minute.

I stood like a man paralyzed. Then suddenly I saw it. The beast moved like a kangaroo, jumping on its powerful hind legs, while its front ones were held bent in front of it. It was of enormous size and power, like an erect elephant. For a moment I hoped that it was an iguanodon, which I knew to be harmless, but I soon saw that this was a very different creature. This beast had a broad, toad-like face like that which had alarmed us in our camp. He was surely one of the great flesh-eating dinosaurs, the most terrible beasts which have ever walked this earth. It was smelling out my trail.

What could I do? I looked desperately round for some rock or tree, but I was in a bushy jungle. I knew that the creature behind me could tear down an ordinary tree as though it were a reed. My only possible chance lay in flight.[75] I saw a well-marked, hard-beaten path which ran across in front of me and I set myself to do such a half-mile as I have never done before or since. My limbs ached, my chest heaved, I felt that my throat would burst for want of air, and yet with that horror behind me I ran and I ran and ran. At last I paused, hardly able to move. For a moment I thought that it had lost my trail. And then suddenly, I heard it. It was at my very heels. I was lost.

With a scream of terror I turned and rushed wildly down the path. Behind me the thick, gasping breathing of the creature sounded louder and louder. And then suddenly there came a crash… I was falling through space, and everything beyond was darkness.

As I came to my senses I felt a most dreadful smell. Putting out my hand in the darkness I came on something which felt like a huge piece of meat and a large bone. Up above me there was a starlit sky, which showed me that I was lying at the bottom of a deep pit. I looked up in terror, expecting to see that dreadful head silhouetted against the sky. There was no sign of the monster, however. I began to walk slowly round, therefore, feeling in every direction to find out what this strange place could be into which I had been so opportunely precipitated.

It was, as I have said, a pit. The atmosphere was poisonous and horrible. Suddenly I came against something hard, and I found that an upright post[76] was firmly fixed in the centre of the hollow. It was so high that I could not reach the top of it with my hand, and it appeared to be covered with grease.

At that moment I remembered that I had a box of matches in my pocket. Striking one of them, I looked around. There could be no question – it was a trap… made by the hand of man. The post in the centre was sharpened at the upper end, and was black with the blood of the creatures who had been impaled on it. I remembered that Challenger had declared that man could not exist on the plateau, but now it was clear enough that they could. In their narrow caves the natives were safe, into which the carnivores could not penetrate. With their developed brains the men were capable of setting such traps, covered with branches, which would destroy prehistoric monsters in spite of all their strength and activity. Man was always the master.

I clambered to the edge of the pit and looked over. The stars were fading, the sky was whitening, and the cold wind of morning blew pleasantly upon my face. I could see or hear nothing of my enemy. Slowly I climbed out and sat for a while upon the ground, ready to spring back into my refuge if any danger should appear. Then, reassured by the absolute stillness and by the growing light, I took my courage in both hands and stole back along the path which I had come. Some distance down it I picked up my gun, and shortly afterwards struck the brook which was my guide. So, with a frightened backward glance, I made for home.

And suddenly there came something to remind me of my absent companions. In the clear, still morning air there sounded far away the sharp, hard note of a single rifle-shot. I paused and listened, but there was nothing more. For a moment I was shocked at the thought that some sudden danger might have befallen them. But then a more natural explanation came to my mind. It was now broad daylight. No doubt my absence had been noticed. They had imagined, that I was lost in the woods, and had fired this shot to guide me home. It is true that we had made a strict resolution against firing, but if it seemed to them that I might be in danger they would not hesitate. It was for me now to hurry on as fast as possible, and so to reassure them.

I was very much tired but at last I came into regions which I knew. There was the swamp of the pterodactyls upon my left; there in front of me was the glade of the iguanodons. Now I was in the last belt of trees which separated me from Fort Challenger. My heart sank at that ominous stillness. The refuge rose before me, even as I had left it, but the gate was open. I rushed in. In the cold, morning light it was a fearful sight which met my eyes. Our effects were scattered in wild confusion over the ground; my companions had disappeared, and close to the ashes of our fire the grass was stained with blood.

I was so stunned by this sudden shock that for a time I must have nearly lost my reason. I have a vague recollection, as one remembers a bad dream, of rushing about through the woods all round the empty camp, calling wildly for my companions. No answer came back from the silent shadows. The horrible thought that I might never see them again drove me to desperation. Only now did I realize how I had learned to lean on my companions, on the self-confidence of Challenger, and on the masterful, humorous coolness of Lord John Roxton. Without them I was like a child in the dark, helpless and powerless. I did not know which way to turn or what I should do first.

After a period, during which I sat in bewilderment, I set myself to try and discover what sudden misfortune could have befallen my companions. The whole disordered appearance of the camp showed that there had been some sort of attack, and the rifle-shot no doubt marked the time when it had occurred. That there should have been only one shot showed that it had been all over in an instant. The rifles still lay upon the ground. The blankets of Challenger and of Summerlee beside the fire suggested that they had been asleep at the time. The cases of ammunition and of food were scattered about in a wild litter, together with our unfortunate cameras and plate-carriers, but none of them were missing. On the other hand, all the exposed provisions – and I remembered that there were a considerable quantity of them – were gone. They were animals, then, and not natives, who had made the inroad, for surely the latter would have left nothing behind.

But if animals, or some single terrible animal, then what had become of my comrades? It is true that there was that one pool of blood, which told of violence. The more I tried to think it out with my confused and weary brain the less could I find any plausible explanation. I searched round in the forest, but could see no tracks which could help me to a conclusion.

Suddenly a thought came to me – I was not absolutely alone in the world. Down at the bottom of the cliff, and within call of me, was waiting the faithful Zambo. I went to the edge of the plateau and looked over. Sure enough, he was squatting among his blankets beside his fire in his little camp. But, to my amazement, a second man was seated in front of him. He was an Indian. I shouted loudly and waved my handkerchief. Zambo looked up, waved his hand, and turned to ascend the rock. In a short time he was standing on the edge of it and listening to the story which I told him.

“Devil got them for sure, Massa Malone,” said he. “You got into the devil’s country, and he take you all to himself. You take advice, Massa Malone, and come down quick, else he get you as well.”

“How can I come down, Zambo?”

“You get creepers from trees, Massa Malone. Throw them over here. I make fast to this stump, and so you have bridge.”

“We have thought of that. There are no creepers here which could bear us.”

“Send for ropes, Massa Malone.”

“Who can I send, and where?”

“Send to Indian villages. Plenty hide rope in Indian village. Indian down below; send him.”

“Who is he?

“One of our Indians. He come back to us. Ready now to take letter.”

To take a letter! Why not? Perhaps he might bring help; but in any case he would ensure that our lives were not spent for nothing, and that news of all that we had won for Science should reach our friends at home. I had two completed letters already waiting. I ordered Zambo, therefore, to come again in the evening, and I spent my miserable and lonely day in recording my own adventures of the night before. I also drew up a note, to be given to any white merchant or captain of a steam-boat whom the Indian could find, asking them for ropes, since our lives must depend on it. These documents I threw to Zambo in the evening, and also my purse, which contained three English sovereigns. These were to be given to the Indian, and he was promised twice as much if he returned with the ropes.

So now you will understand, my dear Mr. McArdle, how this communication reaches you, and you will also know the truth, in case you never hear again from your unfortunate correspondent. Tonight I am too tired and too depressed to make my plans. Tomorrow I shall search round for any traces of my unhappy friends.

It was quite dark when I at last turned back to our camp, and my last vision as I went was the red gleam of Zambo’s fire, the one point of light in the wide world below. And yet I felt happier, for it was good to think that the world should know what we had done.

Finally, I closed the door of the refuge, lit three separate fires, and having eaten a hearty supper[77] fell asleep. In the early morning, just as day was breaking, a hand was laid on my arm, and with all my nerves strained and my hand feeling for a rifle, I gave a cry of joy as in the cold gray light I saw Lord John Roxton.

It was he… and yet it was not he. He was pale and wild-eyed. His gaunt face was scratched and bloody, his clothes were hanging in rags, and his hat was gone. I stared in amazement, but he gave me no chance for questions. He was grabbing at our stores all the time he spoke.

“Quick, my friend! Quick!” he cried. “Every moment counts. Get the rifles, both of them. I have the other two. Now, all the cartridges you can gather. Fill up your pockets. Now, some food. Half a dozen tins will do. That’s all right! Don’t talk or think. Move on, or we are done!”

Still half-awake, and unable to imagine what it all might mean, I found myself hurrying madly after him through the wood, a rifle under each arm and a pile of various stores in my hands. Finally he came to a dense brush-wood.

“There!” he panted. “I think we are safe here. They’ll find us in the camp. It will be their first idea. But this should puzzle them.”

“What is it all about?” I asked. “Where are the professors? And who is it that is after us?”

“The ape-men,” he cried. “My God, what brutes! Don’t raise your voice, they have long ears… sharp eyes, too, but no power of scent, so far as I could judge, so I don’t think they can smell us out. Where have you been, my friend? You were well out of it.”

In a few sentences I told what I had done.

“Nothing good,” said he, when he had heard of the dinosaur and the pit. “It isn’t quite the place for a rest cure, is it? But I had no idea what this place was until those devils attacked us. The man-eating Papuans had me once, but they are nice compared to this crowd.”

“How did it happen?” I asked.

“It was in the early morning. Our learned friends hadn’t even begun to argue yet. Suddenly apes appeared. They had been hiding in the dark, I suppose. I shot one of them through the belly, but before we knew where we were they had us spread-eagled on our backs. I call them apes, but they carried sticks and stones in their hands and talked to each other, and ended up by tying our hands with creepers, so they are ahead of any beast that I have seen in my wanderings. Ape-men… that’s what they are… Missing Links, and I wish they had stayed missing. They carried off their wounded comrade. They were big fellows, as big as a man and even stronger. Challenger is no chicken, but even he was cowed.[78] He jumped to his feet and yelled and cursed at them like a lunatic.

“Well, what did they do?” I asked.

“I thought it was the end of us, but that is what happened. Suddenly one of them stood out beside Challenger. You’ll smile, my friend, but this old ape-man – he was their chief – was a sort of red Challenger. He had the short body, the big shoulders, the round chest, no neck, a great beard, the ‘What do you want, damn you!’ look about the eyes. When the ape-man stood by Challenger and put his paw on his shoulder, the thing was complete. Summerlee laughed till he cried. The ape-men started dragging us through the forest. They didn’t touch the guns and things – they thought them dangerous, I expect – but they carried away all our food. They were careless about Summerlee and I but Challenger was all right. Four of them carried him shoulder high, and he went like a Roman emperor.”

It was a strange clicking noise in the distance.

“There they go!” said my companion. “My friend, we’re not going to be taken alive! That’s the row they make when they are excited. By George! Can you hear them now?”

“Very far away.”

“I think their search parties are all over the wood. Well, I was telling you my tale. They got us soon to this town of theirs… about a thousand huts of branches and leaves near the edge of the cliff. It’s three or four miles from here. Those beasts tied us up and there we lay with our toes up, beneath a tree, while a great brute stood guard over us with a big stick in his hand. When I say ‘we’ I mean Summerlee and myself. Old Challenger was eating pineapples and having the time of his life. I should say that he managed to get some fruit to us, and with his own hands he loosened our bonds. If you’d seen him sitting there with his twin brother and singing in that rolling bass of his, because music of any kind seemed to put them in a good humor, you’d have smiled. But we weren’t in mood for laughing, as you can guess.”

“Well, now, young fellah, I’ll tell you what will surprise you. You say you saw signs of men, and fires, traps, and the like. Well, we have seen the natives themselves. They are poor people, down-faced little chaps, and had enough to make them so. It seems that there is bloody war between them and apes all the time. Well, yesterday the ape-men got hold of a dozen of the humans and brought them in as prisoners. The men were little red fellows, and had been bitten and clawed so that they could hardly walk. The ape-men put two of them to death[79]… it was perfectly beastly. Summerlee fainted, and even Challenger had as much as he could stand. I think they are gone, don’t you?”

We listened intently, but nothing except the calling of the birds broke the deep peace of the forest. Lord Roxton went on with his story.

“I think you have had the escape of your life, my friend, you are lucky not to be caught. Well, we had a horrid business afterwards. My God! what a nightmare the whole thing is! You remember the place where we found the skeleton of the American? Well, that is just under ape-town, and that’s the jumping off place of their prisoners. They have a sort of ceremony on the top. One by one the poor creatures have to jump, and the game is to see whether they are merely dashed to pieces or whether they get skewered on the bamboo canes. They took us out to see it, and the whole tribe lined up on the edge. Four of the Indians jumped, and the canes went through them like knitting needles through a pat of butter. No wonder we found that poor Yankee’s skeleton with the canes growing between his ribs. It was horrible… We thought we would be next.

“Well, it wasn’t. Their language is more than half signs, and it was not hard to follow them. So I thought it was time we made a break for it. I had thought out one or two points that were helpful. One was that these brutes could not run as fast as a man in the open.[80] They have short legs, you see, and heavy bodies. Another point was that they knew nothing about guns. I don’t believe they understood how the fellow I shot was hurt. If we could get at our guns there was no saying what we could do. So I broke away early this morning, gave my guard a kick and sprinted for the camp. There I found you and the guns, and here we are.”

“But the professors!” I cried.

“Well, we must just go back and save them. I couldn’t bring them with me. Challenger was up the tree, and Summerlee was not strong enough. The only chance was to get the guns and try a rescue. I don’t think they would touch Challenger, but I wouldn’t answer for Summerlee. So we are to go back and have them out or meet the end with them.”

Lord Roxton was a born leader. His love of danger, his intense appreciation of the drama of an adventure, a fierce game between you and Fate made him a wonderful companion at such hours. If it were not for our fears as to the fate of our companions, it would have been a positive joy to throw myself with such a man into such an affair. We were rising from our brushwood hiding-place when suddenly he gripped my arm.

“By George!” he whispered, “here they come!”

A party of the ape-men was passing. They went close to each other, their hands occasionally touching the ground, their heads turning to left and right as they walked along. Many of them carried sticks, and at the distance they looked like a line of very hairy and deformed human beings. Then they were lost among the bushes.

“Not this time,” said Lord John. “Our best chance is to lie quiet until they have given up the search. Then we shall see whether we can’t get back to their town and hit them where it hurts most. Give them an hour and we’ll march.”

We decided to have braekfast. Lord Roxton had had nothing but some fruit since the morning before and ate like a starving man. Then, at last, our pockets full of cartridges and a rifle in each hand, we started off on our mission of rescue. Lord John gave me some idea of his plans.

“So long as we are among the trees these monsters are our masters”, said he. They can see us and we cannot see them. But in the open it is different. There we can move faster than they. So we must stick to the open all we can. The edge of the plateau has fewer large trees than further inland. So that’s our line of advance. Go slowly, keep your eyes open and your rifle ready. Come quick! I hope we are not too late already!

I found myself shaking with nervous excitement as I lay down beside him, looking out through the bushes at a clearing which stretched before us.

It was a sight which I shall never forget until my dying day, so weird, so impossible. I know that it will seem to be some wild nightmare. But it is still fresh in my memory.

In the open, and near the edge of the cliff, there had gathered a crowd of some hundred of these red-haired creatures, many of them of immense size, and all of them horrible to look at. There was a certain discipline among them. In front there stood a small group of Indians… little, red fellows, whose skins glowed like polished bronze in the strong sunlight. A tall, thin white man was standing beside them, his head bowed, his arms folded. There was no mistaking – it was Professor Summerlee.

There were several ape-men, who watched the prisoners closely and made all escape impossible. Then, close to the edge of the cliff, were two figures, so strange, and under other circumstances so ridiculous, that they got my attention. The one was our friend, Professor Challenger. The remains of his coat still hung in strips from his shoulders, but his shirt had been all torn out. He had lost his hat, and his hair was flying in wild disorder. Beside him stood his master, the king of the ape-men. In all things he was, as Lord John had said, the very image of our Professor, except the fact that his colouring was red instead of black. The same short, broad figure, the same heavy shoulders, the same beard on the hairy chest. Only the shape of their skulls was different. At every other point the king was an absurd parody of the Professor.

Two of the ape-men had seized one of the Indians out of the group and dragged him forward to the edge of the cliff. The king raised his hand as a signal. They caught the man by his leg and arm, and swung him three times backwards and forwards with tremendous violence. Then, with a frightful heave they shot the poor over the chasm. As he vanished from sight, the whole assembly, except the guards, rushed forward to the edge of the chasm, and there was a long pause of absolute silence, broken by a mad yell of delight. They sprang about, tossing their long, hairy arms in the air and howling with joy. Then they fell back from the edge and waited for the next victim.

This time it was Summerlee. Two of his guards caught him by the wrists and pulled him brutally to the front. Challenger had turned to the king and waved his hands frantically before him. He was begging and pleading for his comrade’s life. The ape-man pushed him aside and shook his head. At that moment Lord John’s rifle cracked and the king sank down on the ground.

“Shoot into the thick of them! Shoot, sonny, shoot!” cried my companion.

There are strange depths in the soul of the most commonplace man. I have always been kind-hearted by nature. Yet the blood lust was on me now. I found myself on my feet emptying one magazine, then the other, clicking open the breech to reload, snapping it to again, while cheering and yelling with pure ferocity and joy of slaughter as I did so. With our four guns the two of us made a horrible mess. Both the guards who held Summerlee were down, and he was very much amazed, unable to realize that he was a free man. Ape-men ran about in bewilderment. They waved, gesticulated and screamed. Then, with a sudden impulse, they all rushed in a howling crowd to the trees for shelter. The prisoners were left for the moment standing alone.

Challenger’s quick brain had grasped the situation. He seized the bewildered Summerlee by the arm, and they both ran towards us. Two of their guards bounded after them and fell to two bullets from Lord John. We ran forward into the open to meet our friends, and pressed a loaded rifle into the hands of each. But Summerlee was at the end of his strength. He could hardly move. Already the ape-men were recovering from their panic. They were coming through the brushwood and threatening to cut us off. Challenger and I ran Summerlee along, one at each of his elbows, while Lord John covered our retreat, firing again and again as their heads appeared out of the bushes. For a mile or more the brutes were at our very heels. Then they evidently learned our power and stopped chasing. When we had at last reached the camp, we looked back and found ourselves alone.

So it seemed to us; and yet we were mistaken. We had hardly closed the door of our refuge, when we heard a patter of feet and then a gentle crying from outside our entrance. Lord Roxton rushed forward, rifle in hand, and threw it open. There lay the little red figures of the four surviving Indians, trembling with fear of us and yet asking for our protection. One of them pointed to the woods around them and indicated that they were full of danger. Then he threw his arms round Lord John’s legs, and rested his face upon them.

“By George!” cried our friend, “What are we to do with these people? Get up, little man, and take your face off my boots.”

Summerlee was sitting up and stuffing some tobacco into his old pipe.

“Well,” said he. “You’ve pulled us all out of the jaws of death. My God! it was very brave!”

“Admirable!” cried Challenger. “Admirable! Not only we as individuals, but European science collectively, owe you a deep debt[81] for what you have done. I do not hesitate to say that the disappearance of Professor Summerlee and myself would have left an appreciable gap[82] in modern zoological history. Our young friend and you have done most excellently well.”

European science would have been amazed could they have seen Challenger now, the hope of the future, with his tangled head, his bare chest, and his torn clothes.

The Indian looked up at him, and then, with a little yelp, clung to Lord John’s leg.

“Don’t be scared, my boy,” said Lord John, patting his head. “He is afraid of your appearance, Challenger! And I don’t wonder. All right, little man, he’s only a human, just the same as the rest of us.”

“Really, sir!” cried the Professor.

“Well, it’s lucky for you, Challenger, that you ARE not very ordinary. If you hadn’t been so like the king…”

“Upon my word, Lord John, you allow yourself a lot!”

“Well, it’s a fact.”

“I beg, sir, that you will change the subject. Your remarks are irrelevant and unintelligible. The question before us is what are we to do with these Indians? The obvious thing is to escort them home, if we knew where their home was.”

“There is no difficulty about that,” said I. “They live in the caves on the other side of the central lake.”

“Our young friend here knows where they live…”

Suddenly we heard far away the cry of the ape-men. The Indians trembled from fear.

“We must move, and move quick!” said Lord John. “You help Summerlee, my friend. These Indians will carry stores. Now, then, come along before they can see us.”

In less than half-an-hour we had reached our brushwood retreat and concealed ourselves. All day we heard the excited calling of the ape-men in the direction of our old camp, but none of them came our way, and the tired fugitives, red and white, had a long, deep sleep. I was dozing myself in the evening when someone plucked my sleeve, and I saw Challenger beside me.

“You keep a diary of these events, and you expect eventually to publish it, Mr. Malone,” said he, with solemnity.

“I am only here as a Press reporter,” I answered.

“Exactly. You may have heard some stupid remarks of Lord John Roxton’s which seemed to imply that there was some… some resemblance…”

“Yes, I heard them.”

“I need not say that any publicity… would be very offensive to me.”

“I will stick to the facts.”

“Lord John’s observations are frequently absolutely strange, and he is capable of expressing the most absurd things. Do you follow me?”

“Entirely.”

“I leave the matter to your discretion.” Then, after a long pause, he added: “The king of the ape-men was really a creature of great distinction… a most remarkably handsome and intelligent personality. Did it not strike you?”

“A most remarkable creature,” said I.

And the Professor, much eased in his mind, went to bed.

We had imagined that our chasers, the ape-men, knew nothing of our hiding-place, but we were soon to find out our mistake. There was no sound in the woods, all was peace around us… but we should have been warned by our first experience how cunningly and how patiently these creatures can watch and wait until their chance comes. I am very sure that I shall never be nearer death than I was that morning. But I will tell you the thing in its order.

We all awoke exhausted after the terrific emotions of yesterday. Summerlee was still so weak that it was an effort for him to stand; but the old man was full of courage which would never admit defeat. It was agreed that we should wait quietly for an hour or two where we were, have our breakfast, and then make our way across the plateau and round the central lake to the caves where the Indians lived. We relied on the fact that we could receive a warm welcome[83] from the Indians’ fellows. Then, with our mission accomplished, we should turn our thoughts to the vital problem of our return. Even Challenger was ready to admit that.

We were able now to take a better look at the Indians whom we had rescued. They were small men, wiry, active, and well-built, with black hair tied up in a bunch. Their faces were hairless, well formed and good-humoured. Their speech, though unintelligible to us, was fluent among themselves, and as they pointed to each other and uttered the word “Accala” many times over, we gathered that this was the name of the nation. Sometimes, with faces which were convulsed with fear and hatred, they shook their clenched hands at the woods round and cried: “Doda! Doda!” which was surely their term for their enemies.

“What do you make of them, Challenger?” asked Lord John. “One thing is very clear to me, and that is that the little man with the front of his head shaved is a chief among them.”

It was indeed evident that this man stood apart from the others, and that they never addressed him without every sign of deep respect. He seemed to be the youngest of them all, and yet, so proud and high was his spirit that, when Challenger lay his great hand on his head, he shuddered and, with a quick flash of his dark eyes, moved away from the Professor. Then the Professor seized the nearest Indian by the shoulder and proceeded to lecture on him as if he were a specimen in a classroom.

“The type of these people,” he said, “we must place as considerably higher in the scale than many South American tribes which I can mention. On no possible supposition can we explain the evolution of such a race in this place. A great gap separates these ape-men from the primitive animals which have survived on this plateau that it is inadmissible to think that they could have developed where we find them.”

“Then where did they drop from?” asked Lord John.

“That is a question which will, no doubt, be discussed in every scientific society in Europe and America,” the Professor answered. “My own reading of the situation for what it is that evolution has advanced under the peculiar conditions of this country, the old types surviving and living on in company with the newer ones. Thus we find such modern creatures as the tapir, the great deer, and the ant-eater with the reptilian forms of jurassic type. And now come the ape-men and the Indians. I can only account for it by an invasion from outside. As to the Indians I cannot doubt that they are more recent immigrants from below. Under the stress of famine or of conquest they have made their way up here. Faced by terrible creatures which they had never seen before, they took refuge in the caves which our young friend has described. They have had a bitter fight against wild beasts and especially against the ape-men who would regard them as intruders. Hence the fact that their numbers appear to be limited.”

There I made the remark that one of the Indians was missing.

“He has gone to fetch some water,” said Lord Roxton.

“To the old camp?” I asked.

“No, to the brook. It’s among the trees there.”

“I’ll go and look after him,” said I. I picked up my rifle and walked in the direction of the brook. I could hear the murmur of our brook somewhere ahead of me, but there was a tangle of trees and brushwood between me and it. As I approached it, I was shocked to see the dead body of the missing Indian. He lay on his side, his head screwed round at a most unnatural angle. I gave a cry to warn my friends that something was amiss.[84] Suddenly I looked upwards and saw two long muscular arms covered with reddish hair that were slowly descending. Another moment and the great stealthy hands were round my throat. I saw a frightful face with cold light blue eyes looking down into mine. There was something hypnotic in those terrible eyes. Dully and far off I heard the crack of a rifle and I was dropped to the earth, where I lay without sense or motion.

I awoke to find myself on my back on the grass. Lord John was sprinkling my head with water, while Challenger and Summerlee were propping me up, with concern in their faces. For a moment I had a glimpse of the human spirits behind their scientific masks. It was really shock, rather than any injury, so in a moment I was sitting up and ready for anything.

“My friend,” said Lord Roxton. “When I heard your cry and ran forward, and saw your head twisted half-off, I thought you were done. By George! I wish I had fifty men with rifles. I’d clear out the place of them and leave this country a bit cleaner than we found it.”

It was clear now that we were watched on every side. We had not so much to fear from them during the day, but they would be very likely to attack us by night; so the sooner we got away from their neighborhood the better.

One great regret we had, and that was to leave our old camp behind us, not only for the sake of the stores which remained there, but even more because we were losing touch with Zambo, our link with the outside world. However, we had a fair supply of cartridges and all our guns, so we could look after ourselves, and we hoped soon to have a chance of returning.

It was in the early afternoon that we started on our journey. The young chief walked at our head as our guide. Behind him came the two surviving Indians with our possessions on their backs. We, four white men, walked with our rifles loaded and ready. We saw no sign of chasing, however, and soon we had got into more open country.

As I walked along, I could not help smiling at the appearance of my three companions in front. We had, it is true, been a week or so on the top of the plateau. My three friends had all lost their hats, and had now bound handkerchiefs round their heads, their clothes were torn, and their unshaven grimy faces were hardly to be recognized. We were indeed a sorry crew, and I did not wonder to see our Indian companions glance back at us occasionally with horror and amazement on their faces.

In the late afternoon we reached the lake, and our native friends gave a cry of joy and pointed eagerly in front of them. It was indeed a wonderful sight which lay before us. Sweeping over the glassy surface was a great flotilla of canoes coming straight for the shore upon which we stood. We saw the Indians rise from their seats, waving their paddles and spears madly in the air, with loud cries of greeting before the young chief. Finally one of them, an elderly man, with a necklace and bracelet of great lustrous glass embraced most tenderly the youth whom we had saved. He then looked at us and asked some questions, after which he stepped up with much dignity and embraced us also each in turn. Then, at his order, the whole tribe lay down on the ground before us in homage.[85] Personally I felt shy and uncomfortable at this adoration, and I read the same feeling in the faces of Roxton and Summerlee, but Challenger expanded like a flower in the sun.[86]

“They may be undeveloped types,” said he, stroking his beard and looking round at them, “but their attitude towards their superiors might be a lesson to some of our more advanced Europeans. Strange how correct are the instincts of the natural man!”

It was clear that the natives had come out upon the war-path, for every man carried his spear, his bow and arrows, and some sort of stick or a stone-axe. Their dark, angry glances at the woods from which we had come, and the frequent repetition of the word “Doda,” made it clear enough that this was a rescue party who had set forth to save or revenge the old chief’s son. Finally our young friend made a spirited speech using such expressive gestures that we could understand it all as clearly as if we had known his language.

“What is the use of returning?” he said. “Sooner or later the thing must be done. Your comrades have been murdered. There is no safety for any of us. We are assembled now and ready.”

Then he pointed to us.

“These strange men are our friends. They are great fighters, and they hate the ape-men as we do. They command,” here he pointed up to heaven, “the thunder and the lightning. When shall we have such a chance again? Let us go forward, and either die now or live for the future in safety. How else shall we go back unashamed to our women?”

When he had finished the little red warriors burst into a roar of applause, waving their weapons in the air. The old chief stepped forward to us, and asked us some questions, pointing at the same time to the woods. Lord John made a sign to him that he should wait a bit and then he turned to us.

“Well, it’s up to you,” said he; “as for me I have to settle a score[87] with these monkey-folk. I’m going with our little red friends. What do you say, young fellah?”

“Of course I will come.”

“And you, Challenger?”

“I will undoubtedly cooperate.”

“And you, Summerlee?”

“If you are all going, I go with you.”

“Then it is settled,” said Lord John, and turning to the chief he nodded and slapped his rifle.

The old fellow clasped our hands, each in turn, while his men cheered very loudly. It was too late to advance that night, so the Indians organized the camp. There we learned that iguanodons were their sort of private property as a herd of cattle, and that these stains of asphalt which had so bewildered us were nothing more than the marks of the owner. Helpless and vegetarian, with great limbs but a small brain, they could be driven by a child. In a few minutes one of the huge beasts had been cut up and pieces of him were fried over camp fires, together with great fish out of the lake.

Summerlee had lain down and slept on the sand, but we others walked round the edge of the water, willing to learn something more of this strange country. Twice we found pits of blue clay, such as we had already seen in the swamp of the pterodactyls. These were old volcanic vents which for some reason excited the greatest interest in Lord John. What attracted Challenger was attracted by bubbling mud geyser, where some strange gas formed great bursting bubbles upon the surface.

There was nothing which seemed to me so wonderful as the great sheet of water before us. Our noise had frightened all living creatures away, all was still around the camp. But it was different out upon the rose-tinted waters of the central lake. It boiled and heaved with strange life. Great slate-coloured backs and high fins showed up, and then rolled down into the depths again. Here and there high serpent heads projected out of the water. Finally some of them wriggled on to a sand-bank within a few hundred yards of us, and exposed a barrel-shaped body and huge flippers behind the long serpent neck, that Challenger, and Summerlee, who had joined us, broke out into their duet of wonder and admiration.

“Plesiosaurus! A fresh-water plesiosaurus!” cried Summerlee. “That I should have lived to see such a sight! We are blessed, my dear Challenger, above all zoologists since the world began!”

At earliest dawn our camp was awaken and an hour later we had started on our memorable expedition. Our numbers had been reinforced during the night by the Indians, and we had four or five hundred people. Roxton and Summerlee took their position upon the right flank, while Challenger and I were on the left.

We didn’t wait long for our enemy. A wild uproar rose from the edge of the wood and suddenly ape-men rushed out with sticks and stones, and made for the centre of the Indian line. It was a brave move but a foolish one, because our friends were as active as cats. It was horrible to see the fierce brutes with open mouths and glaring eyes, rushing, while arrow after arrow buried itself in their bodies. One great fellow ran past me roaring with pain, with a dozen darts sticking from his chest and ribs. In mercy I put a bullet through his skull, and he fell. But this was the only shot fired. The attack had been on the centre of the line, and the Indians there had needed no help of ours.

But the matter was more deadly when we came among the trees. The ape-men jumped out from the trees so quickly that the Indians often didn’t have time to spear them. One of the ape-men broke Summerlee’s gun into pieces and was going to attack Professor again. An Indian speared him into the heart. Other ape-men in the trees above us dropped down stones and wood. Summerlee was weaponless, but I was emptying my magazine as quick as I could fire, and on the further flank we heard the continuous cracking of our companion’s rifles.

At last man was to be supreme and the man-beast to find forever his place. The Indians followed them step my step and from every side in the woods we heard the yells, as ape-men were brought down from their hiding-places in the trees.

I was following the others, when I found that Lord John and Challenger had come across to join us.

“It’s over,” said Lord John. “I think we can leave the tidying up to them. Perhaps the less we see of it the better we shall sleep.”

“We have been privileged,” cried Challenger, “to be present at one of the typical decisive battles of history, the battles which have determined the fate of the world. From now on this plateau the future must ever be for man.”

As we walked together through the woods we found the ape-men’s bodies. Always in front of us we heard the yelling and roaring which showed the direction of the chasing. The ape-men had been driven back to their city, they had been broken, and now we were in time to see the final fearful scene of all. Some eighty or a hundred males, the last survivors, had been driven to the edge of the cliff. A semicircle of spearmen had closed in on them, and in a minute it was over. Thirty or forty died where they stood. The others, screaming and clawing, were thrown over the chasm. It was as Challenger had said, and the reign of man was assured forever in Maple White Land. The males were killed, Ape Town was destroyed, the females and young were driven away to live in bondage,[88] and the long war had reached its bloody end.

For us the victory brought much advantage. Once again we were able to visit our camp and get at our stores. Once more also we were able to communicate with Zambo, who had been terrified by the spectacle of apes falling from the edge of the cliff.

“Come away, Massas, come away!” he cried, his eyes starting from his head. “The devil get you sure if you stay up there.”

“It is the voice of sanity!” said Summerlee. “We have had adventures enough and they are neither suitable to our character or our position. I hold you to your word, Challenger. From now onwards you devote your time to getting us out of this horrible country and back once more to civilization.”

We are held here with no clear means of making our escape, and we were very angry. Yet, I can well imagine that the day may come when we may be glad that we were kept, against our will, to see something more of the wonders of this singular place, and of the creatures who inhabit it.

The victory of the Indians and the destruction of the ape-men, marked the turning point of our fortunes. From now on, we were the masters of the plateau and the natives looked at us with a mixture of fear and gratitude. For their own sakes they would, perhaps, be glad to see such all-powerful people leaving, but even they could not suggest any way by which we may reach the plains below. So far as we could follow their signs, there was a tunnel by which the place could be approached. By this, no doubt, both ape-men and Indians had at different epochs reached the top, and Maple White with his companion had taken the same way. Only the year before, however, there had been a terrific earthquake, and the upper end of the tunnel had fallen in and completely disappeared. The Indians now could only shake their heads and shrug their shoulders when we expressed by signs our desire to descend.

We made our camp at the foot of the cliffs. The Indians would have had us share their caves with them, but Lord John would by no means refuse their suggestion. He thought that to do so would put us in their power. We kept our independence and had our weapons ready for any emergency, while preserving the most friendly relations. We also continually visited their caves.

The openings were about eighty feet above the ground, so no large animal could mount them. Inside they were warm and dry, running in straight passages of varying length into the side of the hill, with smooth gray walls decorated with many excellent pictures representing the various animals of the plateau.

Since we had learned that the huge iguanodons were kept as herds by their owners, and were simply walking meat-stores, we had understood that man, even with his primitive weapons, had established his power on the plateau. We were soon to discover that it was not so.

On the third day near the Indian caves that the tragedy occurred. Challenger and Summerlee had gone together to the lake where some of the natives were asked to catch them specimens of the great lizards. Lord John and I had remained in our camp. Suddenly there was a shrill cry of alarm. From every side men, women and children were rushing wildly for shelter, shouting the word “Stoa”.

Looking up, we could see them waving their arms from the rocks above and inviting us to join them in their refuge. We had both seized our magazine rifles and ran out to see what the danger could be. Suddenly from the near belt of trees there came a group of twelve or fifteen Indians, running for their lives. At their very heels there were two of those frightful monsters, which looked like horrible gigantic toads and which had disturbed our camp and chased me on my journey. We had never before seen them except at night. We stood amazed at the sight but had little time to watch them, however, as in a second they had overtaken the natives and were murdering them. The poor Indians screamed with terror, but were helpless. One after another they went down, and there were about five-six men surviving by the time my companion and I could come to their help. We emptied our magazines, firing bullet after bullet into the beasts, but with no more effect than if we were throwing paper balls into them. We could not hurt them, only distract their attention with the flash and roar of our guns. So we gave both the natives and ourselves time to reach the steps which led to safety. But where the bullets were of no use, the poisoned arrows of the natives could succeed. In a minute they were covered with them, and yet with no sign of pain they tried to get to the steps which would lead them to their victims. But at last the poison worked. One of them gave a deep groan and dropped his huge head on to the earth. The other ran round in a circle with cries, and then lying down writhed in agony[89] for some minutes before it also lay still. With yells of triumph the Indians came down from their caves and danced a dance of victory round the dead bodies, in mad joy that two more of the most dangerous of all their enemies had been beaten. That night they cut up the bodies, but not to eat as the poison was still active. They also removed them in order not to poison the air. The great reptilian hearts, each as large as a pillow, still lay there, beating slowly and steadily, in horrible independent life. Only on the third day the dreadful things stopped beating.

Some day, when I have a better desk and more helpful written tools, I will write some fuller account of the Accala Indians, of our life amongst them in the wondrous Maple White Land. Memory, at least, will never fail me, for so long as the breath of life is in me, I will remember every hour and every action of that period. When the time comes I will describe that wondrous moonlit night on the great lake when a young ichthyosaurus – a strange creature, half seal, half fish, with three eyes fixed on the top of his head – was entangled[90] in an Indian net, and nearly upset our canoe; the same night a green water-snake shot out from the rushes and carried off one Indian of Challenger’s canoe. I will tell, too, of the great white thing – we do not know whether it was beast or reptile – which lived in a swamp to the east of the lake. The Indians were so terrified at it that they would not go near the place, and, though we twice made expeditions and saw it each time. I can only say that it seemed to be larger than a cow and had the strangest odour. I will tell also of the huge bird which chased Challenger to the shelter of the rocks one day – a great bird, taller than an ostrich, with a cruel head which made it a walking death. This time at least modern weapons prevailed and the great creature, twelve feet from head to foot – phororachus its name, according to our Professor – went down before Lord Roxton’s rifle. Finally, I will assuredly give some account of the toxodon, the giant ten-foot guinea pig, with projecting sharp teeth, which we killed as it drank by the side of the lake.

All this I shall some day write at fuller length. I would tenderly sketch in these lovely summer evenings, when with the deep blue sky above us we all lay among the long grasses by the wood, while above us the bushes were heavy with fruit, and below us strange and lovely flowers. Or those long moonlit nights when we lay and watched with wonder and awe the huge circles on the lake from the sudden splash of some fantastic monster.

But, you will ask, why all these experiences, when you and your comrades should have been occupied day and night finding some means by which you could return to the outer world? My answer is, that our work had been in vain. One fact we had discovered: The Indians would do nothing to help us. In every other way they were our friends, but when it was suggested that they should help us to make and carry a plank which could be the bridge over the chasm, or when we wished to get from them liana to weave ropes which might help us, we were met by a good-humoured refusal. They would smile, shake their heads, and there was the end of it. Even the old chief met us with the same obstinate denial, and it was only Maretas, the youngster whom we had saved, who told us by his gestures that he was very sorry. They believed that so long as we remained with them good fortune would be theirs. A little red-skinned wife and a cave were freely offered to each of us if we would forget our own people and stay forever on the plateau. That is why we felt that our actual plans of a descent must be kept secret, otherwise they might try to hold us by force.

In spite of the danger from dinosaurs I have been twice in the last three weeks over to our old camp in order to see our negro who still kept watch below the cliff. My eyes strained eagerly across the great plain in the hope of seeing the help for which we had prayed.

“They will soon come now, Massa Malone. Come back and bring rope and fetch you down.” Such was a cry of our excellent Zambo.

As I came from this second visit I had one strange experience. I was returning along the well-remembered route, and had reached a spot within a mile or so of the swamp of the pterodactyls, when I saw an extraordinary object approaching me. It was a man who walked inside a cage made of bent canes. I was more amazed to see that it was Lord John Roxton. When he saw me he took off his curious protection and came towards me laughing, and yet, as I thought, with some confusion.

“Well, my friend,” said he, “who would have thought of meeting you up here?”

“What in the world are you doing?” I asked.

“Visiting my friends, the pterodactyls,” said he.

“But why?”

“Interesting beasts, don’t you think? But unsociable! Rude ways with strangers, as you remember. So I built this cage.”

“But what do you want in the swamp?”

He looked at me, and I read hesitation in his face.

“Don’t you think other people besides Professors can want to know things?” he said at last. “I’m studying them. That’s enough for you.”

But then his good-humour returned and he laughed.

“No offense,[91] my friend. I’m going to get a young devil chick for Challenger. That’s one of my jobs. No, I don’t want your company. I’m safe in this cage, and you are not. So long, and I’ll be back in camp by night-fall.”

He turned away and I left him wandering on through the wood with his cage around him.

If Lord John’s behaviour at this time was strange, Challenger was even stranger. He seemed to be very attractive for the Indian women, and so he always carried a large palm branch with which he beat them off as if they were flies, when their attentions became too pressing. To see him walking like a Sultan and a train of wide-eyed Indian girls behind him, is one of the most grotesque of all the pictures which I will carry back with me. As to Summerlee, he was absorbed in the insect and bird life of the plateau, and spent his whole time (except that considerable portion which was devoted to abusing Challenger for not getting us out of our difficulties) in cleaning his specimens.

Challenger went off every morning and returned from time to time with a look of great solemnity. One day, palm branch in hand, and his crowd of admirers behind him, he led us down to his hidden place and took us into the secret of his plans.

The place was a small clearing where there was one of those boiling mud geysers which I have already described. Around its edge we saw a number of leathern belts cut from iguanodon hide, and a large membrane which turned out to be the dried and scraped stomach of one of the great fish lizards from the lake. This huge sack had only one small hole, into which several bamboo canes had been inserted. The other ends of these canes were in contact with clay funnels which collected the gas in the geyser. Soon the organ began to slowly expand and Challenger fastened the belts which held it to the trunks of the surrounding trees. In half an hour a good-sized gas-bag had been formed. Challenger, like a glad father in the presence of his first-born, stood smiling and stroking his beard. It was Summerlee who first broke the silence.

“You don’t mean us to go up in that thing, Challenger?” said he, in an acid voice.

“I mean, my dear Summerlee, to give you such a demonstration of its powers that after seeing it you will, I am sure, you will trust me.”

“I’d like to see how it works,” said Lord John.

“So you will,” said Challenger. “We have understood that we cannot climb down and that there is no tunnel. We are also unable to construct any kind of bridge. How then shall I find a means to save us? Some little time ago I had remarked to our young friend here that free hydrogen was evolved from the geyser. The idea of a balloon naturally followed. I admit, I was worried by the difficulty of finding something to contain the gas, but the examination of the entrails[92] of these reptiles supplied me with a solution to the problem. Here is the result!”

“Madness!” snorted Summerlee.

Lord John was delighted with the whole idea. “Clever old man, isn’t he?” he whispered to me, and then louder to Challenger. “What about a car?[93]”

“The car will be my next care. I have already planned how it is to be made and attached. Meanwhile I will simply show you how capable my apparatus is of supporting the weight of each of us.”

“All of us, surely?”

“No, it is part of my plan that each in turn will descend as in a parachute. If it will support the weight of one and let him gently down, it will have done all that is required of it. I will demonstrate you the power of my balloon.” As he said so he cut with a knife the various ropes that held it.

Never was our expedition in more serious danger of complete destruction. The inflated membrane shot up with frightful speed into the air. In a moment Challenger was pulled off his feet and dragged after it. I managed to throw my arms round his waist and found myself up into the air. Lord John gripped me round the legs, but I felt that he also was coming off the ground. For a moment I had a vision of four adventurers floating like a string of sausages over the land that they had explored. But, happily, there were limits which the rope would stand. There was a sharp crack, and we were in a heap on the ground. When we were able to get up, we saw in the deep blue sky one dark spot where the balloon was speeding upon its way.

“Splendid!” cried Challenger, rubbing his injured arm. “A most thorough and satisfactory demonstration! I could not have imagined such a success. Within a week, gentlemen, I promise that a second balloon will be prepared!”

So it was on the very evening of our adventure with Challenger’s balloon that the change came in our fortunes. I have said that the one person from whom we had had some sign of sympathy in our attempts to get away was the young chief whom we had rescued. He alone had no desire to hold us against our will in a strange land. He had told us as much by his expressive language of signs. That evening he came down to our little camp, handed me a small roll of the bark of a tree, and then pointing solemnly up at the row of caves above him, he had put his finger to his lips as a sign of secrecy and gone away.

I took the slip of bark to the firelight and we examined it together. There was a singular arrangement of lines, which were neatly done on the white surface, and looked to me at first sight like some sort of rough musical score.

“Whatever it is, I can say that it is of importance to us,” said I. “I could read that on his face as he gave it.”

“It is clearly some sort of script,” said Challenger.

“Looks like a puzzle,” remarked Lord John, looking at it. Then suddenly he stretched out his hand and seized the puzzle.

“By George!” he cried, “I believe I’ve got it. The boy guessed right the very first time. See here! How many marks are on that paper? Eighteen. Well, there are eighteen cave openings on the hill-side above us. It’s a map, and here’s a cross on it. It is placed to mark one that is much deeper than the others.”

“One that goes through,” I cried.

“I believe our young friend has read the riddle,” said Challenger. “If it does go through and comes out at the corresponding point on the other side, we should not have more than a hundred feet to descend.”

“Well, our rope is still more than a hundred feet long,” I cried. “Surely we could get down.”

“How about the Indians in the cave?” Summerlee objected.

“There are no Indians in any of the caves above our heads,” said I. “They are all used as store-houses. Why should we not go up now at once and spy out the land?”

We made our way up steps to the particular cave which was marked in the drawing. It was, as I had said, empty, except for a great number of enormous bats, which flapped round our heads as we entered it. As we had no desire to draw the attention of the Indians to our proceedings, we started our expedition in the dark. Only when we were in the cave we lit our torches. We hurried eagerly along it until, with a deep groan of bitter disappointment, we were brought to a dead-end.[94] There was no escape for us there.

“Never mind, my friends,” said Challenger. “You have still my firm promise of a balloon.”

“Can we be in the wrong cave?” I suggested.

“No,” said Lord John. “Seventeen from the right and second from the left. This is the cave we need.”

I looked at the mark and gave a sudden cry of joy.

“Well, it is marked as a forked cave, and in the darkness we passed the fork before the torches were lit. On the right side as we go out we should find the longer arm.”

It was as I had said. We had not gone thirty yards before a great black opening loomed in the wall. We turned into it to find that we were in a much larger passage than before. Along it we hurried in breathless impatience for many hundreds of yards. Then, suddenly, in the black darkness of the arch in front of us we saw a gleam of light. We stared in amazement.

“The moon, by George!” cried Lord John. “We are through, boys! We are through!”

It was indeed the full moon. It was a small rift, not larger than a window, but it was enough for our purposes. Through it we could see that the descent was not a very difficult one. With the help of our rope we could find our way down, and then we returned, rejoicing, to our camp to make our preparations for the next evening.

We had to do it quickly and secretly. We decided to leave behind us, except only our guns and cartridges. But Challenger had some stuff which he desired to take with him, and one particular package, of which I may not speak, which gave us more labour than any. Slowly the day passed, but when the darkness fell we were ready for our departure. We got our things up the steps, and then, looking back, took one last long survey of that strange land, the dream of hunters, a land where we had suffered much, and learned much… OUR land. Even as we looked a high cry, the call of some weird animal, rang clear out of the darkness. It was the very voice of Maple White Land telling us good-bye. We turned and plunged into the cave which led to home.

Two hours later, we and all we owned were at the foot of the cliff. In the early morning we approached Zambo’s camp and as we reached it, we stopped in amazement. There were lots of fires on the plain. The rescue party had arrived. We saw about twenty Indians from the river, with stakes, ropes, and all that could be useful for bridging the chasm. At least we have no difficulty now in carrying our packages. Tomorrow we shall begin to make our way back to the Amazon.

And so I stop writing. Our eyes have seen great wonders. Each is in his own way a better and deeper man. It may be that when we reach Para we shall stop to refit. If we do, this letter will be a mail ahead. If not, it will reach London on the very day that I do. In either case, my dear Mr. McArdle, I hope to shake you by the hand very soon.

I can assure our friends in England that we had no notion of the uproar which the mere rumour of our experiences had caused through Europe. It was agreed among us, however, that no definite statement should be given to the Press until we had met the members of the Zoological Institute, since as delegates it was our clear duty to give our first report to the body from which we had received our commission of investigation. Thus, although we found Southampton full of Pressmen, we absolutely refused to give any information, which had the natural effect of focussing public attention upon the meeting which was advertised for the evening of November 7th. For this gathering, the Zoological Hall which had been the scene of the inception of our task was found to be far too small, and it was only in the Queen’s Hall in Regent Street that accommodation could be found. It is now common knowledge the promoters might have ventured upon the Albert Hall and still found their space too scanty. On the second evening after our arrival the great meeting had been fixed.

And now I turn to the last important moment of our adventure. As I was wondering how I should best describe it, my eyes fell on the issue of my own Journal for the morning of the 8th of November with the full and excellent account of my friend and fellow-reporter Macdona. This is the report:

THE NEW WORLD

GREAT MEETING AT THE QUEEN’S HALL

SCENES OF UPROAR EXTRAORDINARY INCIDENT

WHAT WAS IT?

DEMONSTRATION IN REGENT STREET (Special)

“The much-discussed meeting of the Zoological Institute was held last night in the greater Queen’s Hall, and it is likely to be a red letter date in the history of Science, as the proceedings were of so remarkable and sensational character that no one present is ever likely to forget them. The Great Hall was tightly packed. The public stormed the doors at a quarter to eight, several people were even injured, including Inspector Scoble of H. Division, whose leg was unfortunately broken. After this invasion it is estimated that nearly five thousand people awaited the arrival of the travellers. When they eventually appeared, they took their places in the front of a platform which already contained all the leading scientific men, not only of this country, but of France and of Germany. The entrance of the four heroes of the occasion was the signal for a remarkable demonstration of welcome, the whole audience rising and cheering for some minutes. No one could have foreseen this extraordinary turn.

When the audience resumed their seats after the ovation which they had given to the travellers, the chairman, the Duke of Durham, addressed the meeting. He rejoiced that these gentlemen had returned safe and sound from their difficult and dangerous task, for it cannot be denied that any disaster to such an expedition would have inflicted a great loss to the cause of Zoological science.’

“Professor Summerlee’s rising was the signal for another extraordinary outbreak of enthusiasm. He described their journey, apologized publicly to Professor Challenger for his incredulity and gave the actual course of their journey, carefully avoiding such information which would help the public to locate this remarkable plateau. Having described, in general terms, their course from the main river up to the time that they actually reached the base of the cliffs, he told his hearers about the difficulties encountered by the expedition in their repeated attempts to mount them. Then the Professor proceeded to describe both the horrors and the attractions of that remarkable land. He said little about personal adventures, but laid stress on the rich harvest reaped by Science in the observations of the wonderful beast, bird, insect, and plant life of the plateau. Forty-six new species of the one and ninety-four of the other had been secured in the course of a few weeks. The public was, however, interested in the larger animals, and especially in the larger animals supposed to have been long extinct. So he mentioned a snake, deep purple in colour, fifty-one feet in length, and a white creature, supposed to be mammalian. The plateau was very rich in known prehistoric forms, dating back in some cases to early Jurassic times. Among these he mentioned the gigantic stegosaurus, seen once by Mr. Malone at a drinking-place by the lake, and drawn in the sketch-book of that adventurous American who had first penetrated this unknown world. He described also the iguanodon and the pterodactyl. He then frightened the audience by some account of the terrible carnivorous dinosaurs. He sketched the mysteries of the central lake that the full interest and enthusiasm of the audience were aroused. One had to pinch oneself to be sure that one was awake as one heard this sane and practical Professor in cold tone describing the monstrous three-eyed fish-lizards and the huge water-snakes which inhabit the central lake. Next he told about the Indians and the extraordinary colony of anthropoid apes, the missing link. Finally he described the ingenious but highly dangerous aeronautic invention of Professor Challenger, and at last told how they found their way back to civilization.

It had been hoped that the proceedings would end there, but it was soon evident that the course of events was not destined to flow so smoothly. Dr. James Illingworth, of Edinburgh, rose in the centre of the hall. Dr. Illingworth asked whether an amendment should not be taken before a resolution.

“THE CHAIRMAN: ‘Yes, sir, if there must be an amendment.’

“DR. ILLINGWORTH: ‘Your Grace, there must be an amendment.’

“THE CHAIRMAN: ‘Then let us take it at once.’

It was clear, from the moment of his rising, that he had a number of friends and sympathizers in the hall, though they formed a minority in the audience. The attitude of the greater part of the public was neutral.

“Dr. Illingworth’s position, in fact, was almost the same as that taken up by Professor Summerlee at the last meeting. But what he asked for was evidence. The corroboration of these wondrous tales was really exciting, he said. What did they give? Some photographs. Was it possible that in this age of ingenious manipulation photographs could be accepted as evidence? What more? They had a story of a flight and a descent by ropes. It was great, but not convincing. It was understood that Lord John Roxton claimed to have the skull of a phororachus. He could only say that he would like to see that skull.

“LORD JOHN ROXTON: ‘Is this fellow calling me a liar?’ (Uproar.)

“THE CHAIRMAN: ‘Order! Order! Dr. Illingworth, I must direct you to bring your remarks to a conclusion and to move your amendment.’

“DR. ILLINGWORTH: ‘Your Grace, I have more to say, but I bow to your ruling. I move, then, that, while Professor Summerlee be thanked for his interesting address, the whole matter shall be regarded as ‘non-proven’, and shall be referred back to a larger, and possibly more reliable Committee of Investigation.’

“It is difficult to describe the confusion caused by this amendment. A large section of the audience expressed their indignation. On the other hand, some people cheered for the amendment. It was only the presence of many ladies which prevented an absolute riot. Suddenly, however, there was a pause, a hush, and then complete silence. Professor Challenger was on his feet. His appearance and manner are peculiarly arresting.

‘You remember,’ said Professor Challenger, ‘that similar foolish scenes marked the last meeting at which I have been able to address them. On that occasion Professor Summerlee was the chief offender, and though he is now on my side, the matter could not be entirely forgotten. I have heard tonight similar, but even more offensive things from the person who has just sat down. I need not remind this audience that, though Professor Summerlee, as the head of the Committee of Investigation, has been put up to speak tonight, still it is I who am the real leader in this business, and that it is mainly to me that any successful result must be achieved. I have safely conducted these three gentlemen to the spot mentioned, and I have, as you have heard, convinced them of the accuracy of my previous account. Warned, however, by my previous experience, I have not come without such proofs as may convince a reasonable man. As explained by Professor Summerlee, our cameras have been destroyed by the ape– men when they attacked our camp, and most of our negatives ruined.’ (Laughter, and ‘Tell us another!’ from the back.) ‘In spite of the destruction of so many invaluable negatives, there still remains in our collection a certain number of photographs showing the conditions of life on the plateau. The negatives were open to the inspection of experts. But what other evidence had they? Under the conditions of their escape it was naturally impossible to bring a large amount of baggage, but they had rescued Professor Summerlee’s collections of butterflies and beetles, containing many new species. Was this not evidence?’ (Several voices, ‘No.’) ‘Who said no?’

“DR. ILLINGWORTH (rising): ‘Our point is that such a collection might have been made in other places than a prehistoric plateau.’ (Applause.)

“PROFESSOR CHALLENGER: ‘No doubt, sir, I can exhibit to you from my portfolio a picture of the pterodactyl taken from life which would convince you…

“DR. ILLINGWORTH: ‘No picture could convince us of anything.’

“PROFESSOR CHALLENGER: ‘You would require to see the thing itself?’

“DR. ILLINGWORTH: ‘Undoubtedly.’

“PROFESSOR CHALLENGER: ‘And you would accept that?’

“DR. ILLINGWORTH (laughing): ‘No doubt.’

“It was at this point that the sensation of the evening arose, a sensation so dramatic that it can never have been paralleled in the history of scientific events. Professor Challenger raised his hand in the air as a signal, and at once our colleague, Mr. E. D. Malone, rose and made his way to the back of the platform. An instant later he reappeared in company of a gigantic negro, the two of them bearing between them a large square packing-case. It was evidently of great weight, and was slowly carried forward and placed in front of the Professor’s chair. All sound had hushed in the audience. Professor Challenger opened the lid and was heard from the Press seat to say, ‘Come, then, pretty, pretty!’ in a quiet voice. A moment later, with a scratching sound, a most horrible creature appeared from below. Even the unexpected fall of the Duke of Durham into the orchestra, could not distract the attention of the audience. The face of the creature was like the wildest gargoyle, with two small red eyes, long mouth, which was held half-open, was full of shark-like teeth. It was the devil of our childhood. There was a disorder in the audience, someone screamed, two ladies in the front row fell senseless from their chairs. For a moment there was danger of panic. Professor Challenger tried to still the audience, but the movement alarmed the creature beside him. It spread the pair of leathery wings. Its owner grabbed at its legs, but too late to hold it. It had flown up and was circling slowly round the Queen’s Hall with a leathery flapping of its ten-foot wings, while a terrible odour filled the room. The cries of the people frightened the creature. Faster and faster it flew, beating against walls and lamps in a blind frenzy[95] of alarm. ‘The window! For heaven’s sake shut that window!’ roared the Professor from the platform, dancing and wringing his hands in an agony of apprehension. But his warning was too late! In a moment the creature, beating and bumping along the wall, came upon the opening, squeezed its hideous bulk through it, and was gone. Professor Challenger fell back into his chair with his face buried in his hands, while the audience gave one long, deep sigh of relief as they realized that the incident was over.

“Then, oh! how shall I describe what took place then… everyone was on his feet, moving and shouting, gesticulating. A crowd of cheering men were round the four travellers. ‘Up with them! up with them!’ cried a hundred voices. In a moment four figures shot up above the crowd. In vain they tried to break free. ‘Regent Street! Regent Street!’ sounded the voices. A slow current, bearing the four on their shoulders, made for the door. Out in the street the scene was extraordinary. A gathering of not less than a hundred thousand people was waiting. The close-packed crowd extended from the other side of the Langham Hotel to Oxford Circus. A roar of acclamation greeted the four adventurers as they appeared, high above the heads of the people, under the vivid electric lamps outside the hall. ‘A procession! A procession!’ was the cry. The crowd set forth, taking the route of Regent Street, Pall Mall, St. James’s Street, and Piccadilly. The whole central traffic of London was stopped. Finally, it was not until after midnight that the four travellers were released at the entrance to Lord John Roxton’s flat in the Albany, and that the crowd concluded their programme with ‘God Save the King’. So ended one of the most remarkable evenings that London has seen for a considerable time.”

So far my friend Macdona; and it may be taken as a fairly accurate account of the proceedings. As to the main incident, it was a bewildering surprise to the audience, but not to us. The reader will remember how I met Lord John Roxton on the very occasion when, in his protective cage, he had gone to bring the “Devil’s chick” as he called it, for Professor Challenger. I have hinted also at the trouble which the Professor’s baggage gave us when we left the plateau. The thing is that the Professor’s earnest desire was that no possible rumour should be allowed to leak out[96] until the moment came when his enemies were to be destroyed.

One word as to the fate of the London pterodactyl. There is the evidence of two frightened women that it sat on the roof of the Queen’s Hall and remained there like a statue for some hours. The next day it came out in the evening papers that a man on duty outside Marlborough House, had left his post, and was therefore judged. According to his words he dropped his rifle and ran down the Mall because on looking up he had suddenly seen the devil between him and the moon, was not accepted by the Court. The only other evidence which I can give is that the captain of the “Start Point”, an American ship, reported that when they had just left the port something between a flying goat and a monstrous bat was flying very quickly southwest. If its homing instinct led it on the right line, there can be no doubt that somewhere in the waters of the Atlantic the last European pterodactyl found its end.

And Gladys – oh, my Gladys! – Gladys of the mystic lake, now to be renamed the Central. Did I not always see something hard in her nature? Did I not feel that it was surely a poor love which could drive a lover to his death or the danger of it? Did I not see her selfishness? Did she love the heroic and the spectacular for its own noble sake, or was it for the glory which might, without effort or sacrifice, be reflected on herself? It was the shock of my life. But already, as I write, a week has passed, and we have had our momentous interview with Lord John Roxton and… well, perhaps things might be worse.

Let me tell it in a few words. No letter or telegram had come to me from her, and I reached her little villa at about ten o’clock that night in a fever of alarm. Was she dead or alive? Where were all my dreams of the open arms, the smiling face, the words of praise for her man who had risked his life for his lady-love? Already I was down from the high peaks and standing flat-footed upon earth. I rushed down the garden path and entered the house. She was seated by the piano. In three steps I was across the room and had both her hands in mine.

“Gladys!” I cried, “Gladys!”

She looked up with amazement in her face. She had changed: the expression of her eyes, the hard stare, the set of the lips, was new to me.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Gladys!” I cried. “What is the matter? You are my Gladys, are you not… little Gladys Hungerton?”

“No,” said she, “I am Gladys Potts. Let me introduce you to my husband.”

How absurd life is! I found myself mechanically bowing and shaking hands with a little ginger-haired man.

“Father lets us stay here. We are getting our house ready,” said Gladys.

“Oh, yes,” said I.

“You didn’t get my letter at Para, then?”

“No, I got no letter.”

“Oh, what a pity! It would have made all clear.”

“It is quite clear,” said I.

“I’ve told William all about you,” said she. “We have no secrets. I am so sorry about it. But it couldn’t have been so very deep, could it, if you could go off to the other end of the world and leave me here alone. You’re not angry, are you?”

“No, no, not at all. I think I’ll go.”

“Have some refreshment,” said the little man, and he added, in a confidential way, “It’s always like this, isn’t it?” He laughed like an idiot, while I made for the door.

I was through it, when a sudden fantastic impulse came upon me, and I went back to my successful rival, who looked nervously at the electric push.

“Will you answer a question?” I asked.

“Well, within reason,[97]” said he.

“How did you do it? Have you searched for hidden treasure, or discovered a pole, or done time on a pirate, or flown the Channel, or what? How did you get it?”

He stared at me with a hopeless expression upon his good-natured little face.

“Don’t you think all this is a little too personal?” he said.

“Well, just one question,” I cried. “What are you? What is your profession?”

“I am a clerk,” said he. “Second man at Johnson and Merivale’s, 41 Chancery Lane.”

“Good-night!” said I, and vanished, like all broken-hearted heroes, into the darkness, with grief and rage and laughter within me.

One more little scene. Last night we all had supper at Lord John Roxton’s rooms. It was strange to see the old, well-known faces and figures. There was Challenger, with his smile, his intolerant eyes, his aggressive beard, his huge chest. And Summerlee, too, there he was with his gray goat’s beard, his yellowish face. Finally, there was our host, with his eagle face, and his cold, blue eyes with always a shimmer of humour in the depths of them. Such is the last picture of them that I have carried away.

It was after supper, in the room with trophies that Lord John Roxton had something to say to us. From a cupboard he had brought an old cigar-box, and this he laid before him on the table.

“There’s one thing,” said he, “that maybe I should have spoken about before this, but I wanted to know a little more clearly where I was. It’s facts, not hopes, with us now. You may remember that day we found the pterodactyl nests in the swamp. Well, something took my notice there. Perhaps you don’t notice, so I will tell you. It was a volcanic vent full of blue clay.” The Professors nodded.

“Well, now, in the whole world I’ve only had to do with one place that was a volcanic vent of blue clay. That was the great De Beers Diamond Mine of Kimberley. So you see I got diamonds into my head. I rigged up a contraption to hold off those stinking beasts, and I spent a happy day there with a spade. This is what I got.”

He opened his cigar-box showed us about twenty or thirty rough stones, varying from the size of beans to that of chestnuts.

“Perhaps you think I should have told you then. Well, so I should, only I know there are a lot of problems, one should know everything about the quality of them. Therefore, I brought them back, and on the first day at home I took one round to Spink’s, and asked him to have it roughly cut and valued.”

He took a pill-box from his pocket, and spilled out of it a beautiful glittering diamond, one of the finest stones that I have ever seen.

“There’s the result,” said he. “He prices the lot at a minimum of two hundred thousand pounds. Of course it is fair shares between us. I won’t hear of anything else. Well, Challenger, what will you do with your fifty thousand?”

“If you really persist in your generous view,” said the Professor, “I should found a private museum, which has long been one of my dreams.”

“And you, Summerlee?”

“I would retire from teaching, and so find time for my final classification of the chalk fossils.[98]”

“I’ll use my own,” said Lord John Roxton, “in fitting a well-formed expedition and having another look at the dear old plateau. As to you, my friend, you, of course, will spend yours in getting married.”

“Not yet,” said I, with a smile. “I think, if you will have me, that I would rather go with you.”

Lord Roxton said nothing, but a brown hand was stretched out to me across the table.

1. Why does Challenger believe that dinosaurs still exist in a Lost World?

2. What happens when Malone goes to interview Professor Challenger?

3. How did Challenger discover that Edward was a journalist?

4. Professor Challenger gives an envelope to be opened at Manaos on 15th July at 12 o’clock. What does the envelope contain?

5. How did they finally get to the plateau?

6. Which is the first dinosaur seen by the adventurers?

7 Why don’t iguanodons still live in the South of England?

8. How did they know that the skeleton belonged to the European?

9. Where did Challenger first see Maple White? Who was Maple White?

10. Why did prehistoric animals continue live on the plateau?

11. How did Challenger convince Edward that he was not a fraud?

12. How did the other scientists react on Challenger’s discoveries?

13. Why does Gomez destroy the tree bridge after the adventurers cross over to the Lost World?

14. What happens to the two professors by the time Malone returns from his adventure?

15. How do the explorers finally escape from the Lost World?

16. What does John Roxton carry back with him from the Lost World?

17. How many marks were there on the piece of bark, which the young chief gave to Malone?

18. Where did the Indians make their caves?

19. Why was Challenger treated well by ape-men?

20. What did ape-men do to their prisoners?

21. Who is the scientist who refuses to believe the explorers’ story of the lost world?

22. Lord Roxton informs the rest of the explorers that each of them will get fifty thousand pounds as he (Roxton) made a profit of 200,000 pounds from the adventure. How did Roxton earn this money?