The Land That Time Forgot

It was a sad leave-taking as in silence I shook hands with each of the three remaining men.  Even poor Nobs appeared dejected as we quit the compound and set out upon the well-marked spoor of the abductor.  Not once did I turn my eyes backward toward Fort Dinosaur.  I have not looked upon it since—­nor in all likelihood shall I ever look upon it again.  The trail led northwest until it reached the western end of the sandstone cliffs to the north of the fort; there it ran into a well-defined path which wound northward into a country we had not as yet explored.  It was a beautiful, gently rolling country, broken by occasional outcroppings of sandstone and by patches of dense forest relieved by open, park-like stretches and broad meadows whereon grazed countless herbivorous animals—­red deer, aurochs, and infinite variety of antelope and at least three distinct species of horse, the latter ranging in size from a creature about as large as Nobs to a magnificent animal fourteen to sixteen hands high.  These creatures fed together in perfect amity; nor did they show any great indications of terror when Nobs and I approached.  They moved out of our way and kept their eyes upon us until we had passed; then they resumed their feeding.

The path led straight across the clearing into another forest, lying upon the verge of which I saw a bit of white.  It appeared to stand out in marked contrast and incongruity to all its surroundings, and when I stopped to examine it, I found that it was a small strip of muslin—­part of the hem of a garment.  At once I was all excitement, for I knew that it was a sign left by Lys that she had been carried this way; it was a tiny bit torn from the hem of the undergarment that she wore in lieu of the night-robes she had lost with the sinking of the liner.  Crushing the bit of fabric to my lips, I pressed on even more rapidly than before, because I now knew that I was upon the right trail and that up to this, point at least, Lys still had lived.

I made over twenty miles that day, for I was now hardened to fatigue and accustomed to long hikes, having spent considerable time hunting and exploring in the immediate vicinity of camp.  A dozen times that day was my life threatened by fearsome creatures of the earth or sky, though I could not but note that the farther north I traveled, the fewer were the great dinosaurs, though they still persisted in lesser numbers.  On the other hand the quantity of ruminants and the variety and frequency of carnivorous animals increased.  Each square mile of Caspak harbored its terrors.

At intervals along the way I found bits of muslin, and often they reassured me when otherwise I should have been doubtful of the trail to take where two crossed or where there were forks, as occurred at several points.  And so, as night was drawing on, I came to the southern end of a line of cliffs loftier than any I had seen before, and as I approached them, there was wafted to my nostrils the pungent aroma of woodsmoke.  What could it mean?  There could, to my mind, be but a single solution:  man abided close by, a higher order of man than we had as yet seen, other than Ahm, the Neanderthal man.  I wondered again as I had so many times that day if it had not been Ahm who stole Lys.

Cautiously I approached the flank of the cliffs, where they terminated in an abrupt escarpment as though some all powerful hand had broken off a great section of rock and set it upon the surface of the earth.  It was now quite dark, and as I crept around the edge of the cliff, I saw at a little distance a great fire around which were many figures—­apparently human figures.  Cautioning Nobs to silence, and he had learned many lessons in the value of obedience since we had entered Caspak, I slunk forward, taking advantage of whatever cover I could find, until from behind a bush I could distinctly see the creatures assembled by the fire.  They were human and yet not human.  I should say that they were a little higher in the scale of evolution than Ahm, possibly occupying a place of evolution between that of the Neanderthal man and what is known as the Grimaldi race.  Their features were distinctly negroid, though their skins were white.  A considerable portion of both torso and limbs were covered with short hair, and their physical proportions were in many aspects apelike, though not so much so as were Ahm’s.  They carried themselves in a more erect position, although their arms were considerably longer than those of the Neanderthal man.  As I watched them, I saw that they possessed a language, that they had knowledge of fire and that they carried besides the wooden club of Ahm, a thing which resembled a crude stone hatchet.  Evidently they were very low in the scale of humanity, but they were a step upward from those I had previously seen in Caspak.

But what interested me most was the slender figure of a dainty girl, clad only in a thin bit of muslin which scarce covered her knees—­a bit of muslin torn and ragged about the lower hem.  It was Lys, and she was alive and so far as I could see, unharmed.  A huge brute with thick lips and prognathous jaw stood at her shoulder.  He was talking loudly and gesticulating wildly.  I was close enough to hear his words, which were similar to the language of Ahm, though much fuller, for there were many words I could not understand.  However I caught the gist of what he was saying—­which in effect was that he had found and captured this Galu, that she was his and that he defied anyone to question his right of possession.  It appeared to me, as I afterward learned was the fact, that I was witnessing the most primitive of marriage ceremonies.  The assembled members of the tribe looked on and listened in a sort of dull and perfunctory apathy, for the speaker was by far the mightiest of the clan.

There seemed no one to dispute his claims when he said, or rather shouted, in stentorian tones:  “I am Tsa.  This is my she.  Who wishes her more than Tsa?”

“I do,” I said in the language of Ahm, and I stepped out into the firelight before them.  Lys gave a little cry of joy and started toward me, but Tsa grasped her arm and dragged her back.

“Who are you?” shrieked Tsa.  “I kill!  I kill!  I kill!”

“The she is mine,” I replied, “and I have come to claim her.  I kill if you do not let her come to me.”  And I raised my pistol to a level with his heart.  Of course the creature had no conception of the purpose of the strange little implement which I was poking toward him.  With a sound that was half human and half the growl of a wild beast, he sprang toward me.  I aimed at his heart and fired, and as he sprawled headlong to the ground, the others of his tribe, overcome by fright at the report of the pistol, scattered toward the cliffs—­while Lys, with outstretched arms, ran toward me.

As I crushed her to me, there rose from the black night behind us and then to our right and to our left a series of frightful screams and shrieks, bellowings, roars and growls.  It was the night-life of this jungle world coming into its own—­the huge, carnivorous nocturnal beasts which make the nights of Caspak hideous.  A shuddering sob ran through Lys’ figure.  “O God,” she cried, “give me the strength to endure, for his sake!” I saw that she was upon the verge of a breakdown, after all that she must have passed through of fear and horror that day, and I tried to quiet and reassure her as best I might; but even to me the future looked most unpromising, for what chance of life had we against the frightful hunters of the night who even now were prowling closer to us?

Now I turned to see what had become of the tribe, and in the fitful glare of the fire I perceived that the face of the cliff was pitted with large holes into which the man-things were clambering.  “Come,” I said to Lys, “we must follow them.  We cannot last a half-hour out here.  We must find a cave.”  Already we could see the blazing green eyes of the hungry carnivora.  I seized a brand from the fire and hurled it out into the night, and there came back an answering chorus of savage and rageful protest; but the eyes vanished for a short time.  Selecting a burning branch for each of us, we advanced toward the cliffs, where we were met by angry threats.

“They will kill us,” said Lys.  “We may as well keep on in search of another refuge.”

“They will not kill us so surely as will those others out there,” I replied.  “I am going to seek shelter in one of these caves; nor will the man-things prevent.”  And I kept on in the direction of the cliff’s base.  A huge creature stood upon a ledge and brandished his stone hatchet.  “Come and I will kill you and take the she,” he boasted.

“You saw how Tsa fared when he would have kept my she,” I replied in his own tongue.  “Thus will you fare and all your fellows if you do not permit us to come in peace among you out of the dangers of the night.”

“Go north,” he screamed.  “Go north among the Galus, and we will not harm you.  Some day will we be Galus; but now we are not.  You do not belong among us.  Go away or we will kill you.  The she may remain if she is afraid, and we will keep her; but the he must depart.”

“The he won’t depart,” I replied, and approached still nearer.  Rough and narrow ledges formed by nature gave access to the upper caves.  A man might scale them if unhampered and unhindered, but to clamber upward in the face of a belligerent tribe of half-men and with a girl to assist was beyond my capability.

“I do not fear you,” screamed the creature.  “You were close to Tsa; but I am far above you.  You cannot harm me as you harmed Tsa.  Go away!”

I placed a foot upon the lowest ledge and clambered upward, reaching down and pulling Lys to my side.  Already I felt safer.  Soon we would be out of danger of the beasts again closing in upon us.  The man above us raised his stone hatchet above his head and leaped lightly down to meet us.  His position above me gave him a great advantage, or at least so he probably thought, for he came with every show of confidence.  I hated to do it, but there seemed no other way, and so I shot him down as I had shot down Tsa.

“You see,” I cried to his fellows, “that I can kill you wherever you may be.  A long way off I can kill you as well as I can kill you near by.  Let us come among you in peace.  I will not harm you if you do not harm us.  We will take a cave high up.  Speak!”

“Come, then,” said one.  “If you will not harm us, you may come.  Take Tsa’s hole, which lies above you.”

The creature showed us the mouth of a black cave, but he kept at a distance while he did it, and Lys followed me as I crawled in to explore.  I had matches with me, and in the light of one I found a small cavern with a flat roof and floor which followed the cleavage of the strata.  Pieces of the roof had fallen at some long-distant date, as was evidenced by the depth of the filth and rubble in which they were embedded.  Even a superficial examination revealed the fact that nothing had ever been attempted that might have improved the livability of the cavern; nor, should I judge, had it ever been cleaned out.  With considerable difficulty I loosened some of the larger pieces of broken rock which littered the floor and placed them as a barrier before the doorway.  It was too dark to do more than this.  I then gave Lys a piece of dried meat, and sitting inside the entrance, we dined as must have some of our ancient forbears at the dawning of the age of man, while far below the open diapason of the savage night rose weird and horrifying to our ears.  In the light of the great fire still burning we could see huge, skulking forms, and in the blacker background countless flaming eyes.

Lys shuddered, and I put my arm around her and drew her to me; and thus we sat throughout the hot night.  She told me of her abduction and of the fright she had undergone, and together we thanked God that she had come through unharmed, because the great brute had dared not pause along the danger-infested way.  She said that they had but just reached the cliffs when I arrived, for on several occasions her captor had been forced to take to the trees with her to escape the clutches of some hungry cave-lion or saber-toothed tiger, and that twice they had been obliged to remain for considerable periods before the beasts had retired.

Nobs, by dint of much scrambling and one or two narrow escapes from death, had managed to follow us up the cliff and was now curled between me and the doorway, having devoured a piece of the dried meat, which he seemed to relish immensely.  He was the first to fall asleep; but I imagine we must have followed suit soon, for we were both tired.  I had laid aside my ammunition-belt and rifle, though both were close beside me; but my pistol I kept in my lap beneath my hand.  However, we were not disturbed during the night, and when I awoke, the sun was shining on the tree-tops in the distance.  Lys’ head had drooped to my breast, and my arm was still about her.

Shortly afterward Lys awoke, and for a moment she could not seem to comprehend her situation.  She looked at me and then turned and glanced at my arm about her, and then she seemed quite suddenly to realize the scantiness of her apparel and drew away, covering her face with her palms and blushing furiously.  I drew her back toward me and kissed her, and then she threw her arms about my neck and wept softly in mute surrender to the inevitable.

It was an hour later before the tribe began to stir about.  We watched them from our “apartment,” as Lys called it.  Neither men nor women wore any sort of clothing or ornaments, and they all seemed to be about of an age; nor were there any babies or children among them.  This was, to us, the strangest and most inexplicable of facts, but it recalled to us that though we had seen many of the lesser developed wild people of Caspak, we had never yet seen a child or an old man or woman.

After a while they became less suspicious of us and then quite friendly in their brutish way.  They picked at the fabric of our clothing, which seemed to interest them, and examined my rifle and pistol and the ammunition in the belt around my waist.  I showed them the thermos-bottle, and when I poured a little water from it, they were delighted, thinking that it was a spring which I carried about with me—­a never-failing source of water supply.

One thing we both noticed among their other characteristics:  they never laughed nor smiled; and then we remembered that Ahm had never done so, either.  I asked them if they knew Ahm; but they said they did not.

One of them said:  “Back there we may have known him.”  And he jerked his head to the south.

“You came from back there?” I asked.  He looked at me in surprise.

“We all come from there,” he said.  “After a while we go there.”  And this time he jerked his head toward the north.  “Be Galus,” he concluded.

Many times now had we heard this reference to becoming Galus.  Ahm had spoken of it many times.  Lys and I decided that it was a sort of original religious conviction, as much a part of them as their instinct for self-preservation—­a primal acceptance of a hereafter and a holier state.  It was a brilliant theory, but it was all wrong.  I know it now, and how far we were from guessing the wonderful, the miraculous, the gigantic truth which even yet I may only guess at—­the thing that sets Caspak apart from all the rest of the world far more definitely than her isolated geographical position or her impregnable barrier of giant cliffs.  If I could live to return to civilization, I should have meat for the clergy and the layman to chew upon for years—­and for the evolutionists, too.

After breakfast the men set out to hunt, while the women went to a large pool of warm water covered with a green scum and filled with billions of tadpoles.  They waded in to where the water was about a foot deep and lay down in the mud.  They remained there from one to two hours and then returned to the cliff.  While we were with them, we saw this same thing repeated every morning; but though we asked them why they did it we could get no reply which was intelligible to us.  All they vouchsafed in way of explanation was the single word Ata.  They tried to get Lys to go in with them and could not understand why she refused.  After the first day I went hunting with the men, leaving my pistol and Nobs with Lys, but she never had to use them, for no reptile or beast ever approached the pool while the women were there—­nor, so far as we know, at other times.  There was no spoor of wild beast in the soft mud along the banks, and the water certainly didn’t look fit to drink.

This tribe lived largely upon the smaller animals which they bowled over with their stone hatchets after making a wide circle about their quarry and driving it so that it had to pass close to one of their number.  The little horses and the smaller antelope they secured in sufficient numbers to support life, and they also ate numerous varieties of fruits and vegetables.  They never brought in more than sufficient food for their immediate needs; but why bother?  The food problem of Caspak is not one to cause worry to her inhabitants.

The fourth day Lys told me that she thought she felt equal to attempting the return journey on the morrow, and so I set out for the hunt in high spirits, for I was anxious to return to the fort and learn if Bradley and his party had returned and what had been the result of his expedition.  I also wanted to relieve their minds as to Lys and myself, as I knew that they must have already given us up for dead.  It was a cloudy day, though warm, as it always is in Caspak.  It seemed odd to realize that just a few miles away winter lay upon the storm-tossed ocean, and that snow might be falling all about Caprona; but no snow could ever penetrate the damp, hot atmosphere of the great crater.

We had to go quite a bit farther than usual before we could surround a little bunch of antelope, and as I was helping drive them, I saw a fine red deer a couple of hundred yards behind me.  He must have been asleep in the long grass, for I saw him rise and look about him in a bewildered way, and then I raised my gun and let him have it.  He dropped, and I ran forward to finish him with the long thin knife, which one of the men had given me; but just as I reached him, he staggered to his feet and ran on for another two hundred yards—­when I dropped him again.  Once more was this repeated before I was able to reach him and cut his throat; then I looked around for my companions, as I wanted them to come and carry the meat home; but I could see nothing of them.  I called a few times and waited, but there was no response and no one came.  At last I became disgusted, and cutting off all the meat that I could conveniently carry, I set off in the direction of the cliffs.  I must have gone about a mile before the truth dawn upon me—­I was lost, hopelessly lost.

The entire sky was still completely blotted out by dense clouds; nor was there any landmark visible by which I might have taken my bearings.  I went on in the direction I thought was south but which I now imagine must have been about due north, without detecting a single familiar object.  In a dense wood I suddenly stumbled upon a thing which at first filled me with hope and later with the most utter despair and dejection.  It was a little mound of new-turned earth sprinkled with flowers long since withered, and at one end was a flat slab of sandstone stuck in the ground.  It was a grave, and it meant for me that I had at last stumbled into a country inhabited by human beings.  I would find them; they would direct me to the cliffs; perhaps they would accompany me and take us back with them to their abodes—­to the abodes of men and women like ourselves.  My hopes and my imagination ran riot in the few yards I had to cover to reach that lonely grave and stoop that I might read the rude characters scratched upon the simple headstone.  This is what I read: 

Here lies JOHN Tippet Englishman killed by TYRANNOSAURUS 10 SEPT., A.D. 1916 R. I. P.

Tippet!  It seemed incredible.  Tippet lying here in this gloomy wood!  Tippet dead!  He had been a good man, but the personal loss was not what affected me.  It was the fact that this silent grave gave evidence that Bradley had come this far upon his expedition and that he too probably was lost, for it was not our intention that he should be long gone.  If I had stumbled upon the grave of one of the party, was it not within reason to believe that the bones of the others lay scattered somewhere near?