The Lost City, Jr. Joseph E. Badger [spicy books to read txt] 📗
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even through the trunk or tongue down to its contact with the
earth, that hollow is caused by a constant suction, through which
a steady stream of debris is flowing, to be sown broadcast for
miles around after emerging from the open top of the so-called
balloon.”
“But it isn’t at all like that,” eagerly cried Waldo, pointing to
where the fragments were flowing upward through those walls
themselves, yet far enough from that hollow interior to be but
indistinctly seen save on rare occasions. “Look at ‘em scoot,
will ye? Oh, if we could only climb up like that!”
Professor Featherwit was keenly watching and closely studying
that very phenomena through all, and now he gave a queer little
chuckle, as he nodded his head with vigour, before dryly
speaking.
“Well, it might be done; yes, it might be done, and that with no
very serious difficulty, my lad.”
“How? Why not try it on, then?”
“To meet with instant death outside?” sharply queried Bruno. “It
would be suicidal to make the attempt, even if we could; which I
doubt.”
Waldo gave a sudden cry, pointing upward where, far above that
destructive storm, could be seen a brace of buzzards floating on
motionless wings, wholly undisturbed by the tumult below.
“If we were only like that!” the lad cried, longingly. “If a
flying-machine could be built like those turkey-buzzards! I
wish—well, I do suppose they’re about the nastiest varmints ever
hatched, but just now I’d be willing to swap, and wouldn’t ask
any boot, either!”
Apparently the professor paid no attention to this boyish plaint,
for he was fumbling in the locker, then withdrew his hand and
uncoiled an ordinary fish-line, with painted float attached.
Before either brother could ask a question, or even give a guess
at his purpose, Professor Phaeton flung hook and cork into those
circling currents, only to have the whole jerked violently out of
his grip, the line flying upward, to vanish from the sight of
all.
That jerk was powerful enough to cut through the skin of his
hand, but the professor chuckled like one delighted, as he sucked
away the few drops of blood before adding:
“I knew it! It CAN be done, and if the worst should come to
pass, why should it not be done?”
Before an answer could be vouchsafed by either of the brothers,
the pall swooped down upon them once more, and again the supply
of natural air was shut off, while their vessel was rocked and
swayed crazily, just as though the delayed end was at last upon
them.
For several minutes this torture endured, each second of which
appeared to be an hour to those imperilled beings, who surely
must have perished, as they lay pinned fast to the floor of the
aerostat by that pitiless weight, only for the precious air-tubes
in connection with that cylinder of compressed air.
After a seeming age of torment the awful pressure was relaxed,
leaving the trio gasping and shivering, as they lay side by side,
barely conscious that life lingered, for the moment unable to
lift hand or head to aid either self or another.
In spite of his far greater age, Professor Featherwit was first
to rally, and his voice was about the first thing distinguished
by the brothers, as their powers began to rally.
“Shall we take our chances, dear boys?” the professor was saying,
in earnest tones. “I believe there is a method of escaping from
this hell-chamber, although of what may lie beyond—”
“It can’t well be worse than this!” huskily gasped Bruno.
“Anything—everything—just to get out o’ here!” supplemented
Waldo, for once all spirits subdued.
“It may be death for us all, even if we do get outside,” gravely
warned the professor. “Bear that in mind, dear boys. It may be
that not one of us will escape with life, after—”
“How much better to remain here?” interrupted Bruno. “I felt
death would be a mercy—then! And I’d risk anything, everything,
rather than go through such another ordeal! I say,—escape!”
“Me too, all over!” vigorously decided Waldo, lifting himself to
both knees as he added: “Tell us what to do, and here I am, on
deck, uncle.”
Even now Professor Phaeton hesitated, his eyes growing dimmer
than usual as they rested upon one face after the other, for
right well he knew how deadly would be the peril thus invited.
But, as the brothers repeated their cry, he turned away to
swiftly knot a strong trail-rope to a heavy iron grapnel, leaving
the other end firmly attached to a stanchion built for that
express purpose.
“Hold fast, if you value life at all, dear boys!” he warned, then
added: “Heaven be kind to you, even if my life pays the forfeit!
Now!”
Without further delay, he cast the heavy grapnel into that mass
of boiling vapour, then fell flat, as an awful jerk was given the
aerostat.
CHAPTER V.
THE PROFESSOR’S UNKNOWN LAND.
There was neither time nor opportunity for taking notes, for that
long rope straightened out in the fraction of a second, throwing
all prostrate as the flying-machine was jerked upward with awful
force.
All around them raged and roared the mighty winds, while missiles
of almost every description pelted and pounded both machine and
inmates during those few seconds of extraordinary peril.
Fortunately neither the professor nor his nephews could fairly
realise just what was taking place, else their brains would
hardly have stood the test; and fortunately, too, that ordeal was
not protracted.
A hideous experience while it lasted, those vicious currents
dragging the aerostat upward out of the air-chamber by means of
grapnel and rope, then casting all far away in company with
wrecked trees and bushes, and even solider materials, all
shrouded for a time in dust and debris, which hindered the
eyesight of both uncle and nephews.
Through it all the brothers were dimly aware of one fact uncle
Phaeton was shrilly bidding them cling fast and have courage.
All at once they felt as though vomited forth from a volcano
which alternately breathed fire and ice, the clear light of
evening bursting upon their aching, smarting eyes with actual
pain, while that horrid roar of warring elements seemed to pass
away in the distance, leaving them—where, and how?
“We’re falling to—merciful heavens! Hold fast, all!” screamed
the professor, desperately striving to regain full command of
their air-ship. “The tiller is jammed, but—”
To all seeming, the aerostat had sustained some fatal damage
during that brief eruption caused by the professor’s little
experiment, for it was pitching drunkenly end for end, refusing
to obey the hand of its builder, bearing all to certain death
upon the earth far below.
Half stupefied with fear, the brothers clung fast to the
life-line and glared downward, noting, in spite of themselves,
how swiftly yonder dark treetops and gray crags were shooting
heavenward to meet them and claim the sacrifice.
With fierce energy Professor Featherwit jerked and wrenched at
the steering-gear, uttering words such as had long been foreign
to his lips, but then—just when destruction appeared
inevitable—a wild cry burst from his lungs, as a broken bit of
native wood came away in his left hand, leaving the lever free as
of old!
And then, with a dizzying swoop and rapid recovery, the gallant
air-ship came back to an even keel, sailing along with old-time
grace and ease, barely in time to avoid worse mishap as the crest
of a tall tree was brushed in their passage.
“Saved,—saved, my lads!” screamed the professor, as his
heart-pet soared upward once more until well past the
danger-line. “Safe and sound through all,—praises be unto the
Lord, our Father!”
Neither brother spoke just then, for they lay there in half
stupor, barely able to realise the wondrous truth: that their
lives had surely been spared them, even as by a miracle!
That swooping turn now brought their faces towards the tornado,
which was at least a couple of miles distant, rapidly making that
distance greater even while continuing its work of destruction.
“And we—were in it!” huskily muttered Bruno, his lids closing
with a shiver, as he averted his face, unwilling to see more.
“Heap sight worse than being in the soup, too, if anybody asks
you,” declared Waldo, beginning to rally both in strength and in
spirit. “But—what’s the matter with the old ship, uncle
Phaeton?”
For the aerostat was indulging itself in sundry distressing
gyrations, pretty much as a boy’s kite swoops from side to side,
when lacking in tail-ballast, while the professor seemed unable
to keep the machine under complete control.
“Nothing serious, only—hold fast, all! I believe ‘twould be as
well to make our descent, for fear something—steady!”
Just ahead there appeared a more than usually open space in the
forest, and, quite as much by good luck as through actual skill,
Professor Featherwit succeeded in making a landing with no more
serious mishap than sundry bruises and a little extra
teeth-jarring.
As quickly as possible, both Bruno and Waldo pitched themselves
out of the partially disabled aeromotor, the elder brother
grasping the grapnel and taking a couple of turns of the strong
rope around a convenient tree-trunk, lest the ship escape them
altogether.
“No need, my gallant boy!” assured the professor, an instant
later. “All is well,—all IS well, thanks to an over-ruling
Providence!”
In spite of this expressed confidence, he hurriedly looked over
his pet machine, taking note of such injuries as had been
received during that remarkable journey, only giving over when
fairly satisfied that all damage might be readily made good,
after which the aerostat would be as trustworthy as upon its
first voyage on high.
Then, grasping the brothers each by a hand, he smiled genially,
then lifted eyes heavenward, to a moment later sink upon his
knees with bowed head and hands folded across his bosom.
Bruno and Waldo imitated his action, and, though no audible words
were spoken, never were more heartfelt prayers sent upward, never
more grateful thanks given unto the Most High.
Boy, youth, and man alike seemed fairly awed into silence for the
next few minutes, unable to so soon cast off the spell which had
fallen upon them, one and each, when realising how mercifully
their lives had been spared, even after all earthly hope had been
abandoned.
As usual, however, Waldo was first to rally, and, after silently
moving around the aerostat, upon which the professor was already
busily at work by the last gleams of the vanished sun, he paused,
legs separated, and hands thrust deep into pockets, head perking
on one side as he spoke, drawlingly:
“I say, uncle Phaeton?”
“What is it, Waldo?”
“It’ll never do to breathe even a hint of all this, will it?”
“Why so, pray?”
“Whoever heard it would swear we were bald-headed liars right
from Storytown! And yet,—did it really happen, or have I been
dreaming all the way through?”
Professor Featherwit gave a brief, dry chuckle at this, rising
erect to cast a deliberate glance around their present location,
then speaking:
“Without I am greatly mistaken, my dear boy, you will have still
other marvellous happenings to relate ere we return to what is,
rightfully or wrongfully, called civilisation.”
“Is that so? Then you really reckon—”
“For one thing, my lad, we are now fairly entered upon a terra
incognita, so far as our own race is concerned. In other
words,—behold, the Olympics!”
Both Bruno and Waldo cast their eyes around, but only a
circumscribed view was theirs. The shades of evening
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