In Search of the Unknown

by Robert W. Chambers

  VIII

  That afternoon our expedition, in two sections, moved forward. Thefirst section comprised myself and all the mules; the second sectionwas commanded by Professor Smawl, followed by Professor Van Twiller,armed with a tiny shot-gun. William, loaded down with the ladies'toilet articles, skulked in the rear. I say skulked; there was noother word for it.

  "So you're a guide, are you?" observed Professor Smawl when William,cap in hand, had approached her with well-meant advice. "The woods arefull of lazy guides. Pick up those Gladstone bags! I'll do the guidingfor this expedition."

  Made cautious by William's humiliation, I associated with the mulesexclusively. Nevertheless, Professor Smawl had her hard eyes on me,and I realized she meant mischief.

  The encounter took place just as I, driving the five mules, enteredthe great mountain gateway, thrilled with anticipation which almostamounted to foreboding. As I was about to set foot across theimaginary frontier which divided the world from the unknown land,Professor Smawl hailed me and I halted until she came up.

  "As commander of this expedition," she said, somewhat out of breath,"I desire to be the first living creature who has ever set footbehind the Graham Glacier. Kindly step aside, young sir!"

  "Madam," said I, rigid with disappointment, "my guide, William Spike,entered that unknown land a year ago."

  "He _says_ he did," sneered Professor Smawl.

  "As you like," I replied; "but it is scarcely generous to forestallthe person whose stupidity gave you the clew to this unexploredregion."

  "You mean yourself?" she asked, with a stony stare.

  "I do," said I, firmly.

  Her little, hard eyes grew harder, and she clutched her umbrella untilthe steel ribs crackled.

  "Young man," she said, insolently; "if I could have gotten rid of youI should have done so the day I was appointed president. But ProfessorFarrago refused to resign unless your position was assured, subject,of course, to your good behavior. Frankly, I don't like you, and Iconsider your views on science ridiculous, and if an opportunitypresents itself I will be most happy to request your resignation.Kindly collect your mules and follow me."

  Mortified beyond measure, I collected my mules and followed mypresident into the strange country behind the Hudson Mountains--I whohad aspired to lead, compelled to follow in the rear, driving mules.

  The journey was monotonous at first, but we shortly ascended a ridgefrom which we could see, stretching out below us, the wildernesswhere, save the feet of William Spike, no human feet had passed.

  As for me, tingling with enthusiasm, I forgot my chagrin, I forgot thegross injustice, I forgot my mules. "Excelsior!" I cried, running upand down the ridge in uncontrollable excitement at the sublimespectacle of forest, mountain, and valley all set with little lakes.

  "Excelsior!" repeated an excited voice at my side, and Professor VanTwiller sprang to the ridge beside me, her eyes bright as stars.

  Exalted, inspired by the mysterious beauty of the view, we claspedhands and ran up and down the grassy ridge.

  "That will do," said Professor Smawl, coldly, as we raced about like apair of distracted kittens. The chilling voice broke the spell; Idropped Professor Van Twiller's hand and sat down on a bowlder, achingwith wrath.

  Late that afternoon we halted beside a tiny lake, deep in the unknownwilderness, where purple and scarlet bergamot choked the shores andthe spruce-partridge strutted fearlessly under our very feet. Here wepitched our two tents. The afternoon sun slanted through the pines;the lake glittered; acres of golden brake perfumed the forest silence,broken only at rare intervals by the distant thunder of a partridgedrumming.

  Professor Smawl ate heavily and retired to her tent to lie torpiduntil evening. William drove the unloaded mules into an intervale fullof sun-cured, fragrant grasses; I sat down beside Professor VanTwiller.

  The wilderness is electric. Once within the influence of its currents,human beings become positively or negatively charged, violentlyattracting or repelling each other.

  "There is something the matter with this air," said Professor VanTwiller. "It makes me feel as though I were desperately enamoured ofthe entire human race."

  She leaned back against a pine, smiling vaguely, and crossing one kneeover the other.

  Now I am not bold by temperament, and, normally, I fear ladies.Therefore it surprised me to hear myself begin a frivolous _causerie_,replying to her pretty epigrams with epigrams of my own, advancing tothe borderland of badinage, fearlessly conducting her and myself overthat delicate frontier to meet upon the terrain of undisguisedflirtation.

  It was clear that she was out for a holiday. The seriousness andrestraints of twenty-two years she had left behind her in thecivilized world, and now, with a shrug of her young shoulders, sheunloosened her burden of reticence, dignity, and responsibility andlet the whole load fall with a discreet thud.

  "Even hares go mad in March," she said, seriously. "I know you intendto flirt with me--and I don't care. Anyway, there's nothing else todo, is there?"

  "Suppose," said I, solemnly, "I should take you behind that big treeand attempt to kiss you!"

  The prospect did not appear to appall her, so I looked around withthat sneaking yet conciliatory caution peculiar to young men who arenovices in the art. Before I had satisfied myself that neither Williamnor the mules were observing us, Professor Van Twiller rose to herfeet and took a short step backward.

  "Let's set traps for a dingue," she said, "will you?"

  I looked at the big tree, undecided. "Come on," she said; "I'll showyou how." And away we went into the woods, she leading, her kiltsflashing through the golden half-light.

  Now I had not the faintest notion how to trap the dingue, butProfessor Van Twiller asserted that it formerly fed on the tender tipsof the spruce, quoting Darwin as her authority.

  So we gathered a bushel of spruce-tips, piled them on the bank of alittle stream, then built a miniature stockade around the bait, a foothigh. I roofed this with hemlock, then laboriously whittled out andadjusted a swinging shutter for the entrance, setting it on springytwigs.

  "The dingue, you know, was supposed to live in the water," she said,kneeling beside me over our trap.

  I took her little hand and thanked her for the information.

  "Doubtless," she said, enthusiastically, "a dingue will come out ofthe lake to-night to feed on our spruce-tips. Then," she added, "we'vegot him."

  "True!" I said, earnestly, and pressed her fingers very gently.

  Her face was turned a little away; I don't remember what she said; Idon't remember that she said anything. A faint rose-tint stole overher cheek. A few moments later she said: "You must not do that again."

  It was quite late when we strolled back to camp. Long before we camein sight of the twin tents we heard a deep voice bawling our names. Itwas Professor Smawl, and she pounced upon Dorothy and drove herignominiously into the tent.

  "As for you," she said, in hollow tones, "you may explain yourconduct at once, or place your resignation at my disposal."

  But somehow or other I appeared to be temporarily lost to shame, and Ionly smiled at my infuriated president, and entered my own tent with astep that was distinctly frolicsome.

  "Billy," said I to William Spike, who regarded me morosely from thedepths of the tent, "I'm going out to bag a mammoth to-morrow, sokindly clean my elephant-gun and bring an axe to chop out the tusks."

  That night Professor Smawl complained bitterly of the cooking, but asneither Dorothy nor I knew how to improve it, she revenged herself onus by eating everything on the table and retiring to bed, takingDorothy with her.

  I could not sleep very well; the mosquitoes were intrusive, andProfessor Smawl dreamed she was a pack of wolves and yelped in hersleep.

  "Bird, ain't she?" said William, roused from slumber by her weirdnoises.

  Dorothy, much frightened, crawled out of her tent, where herblanket-mate still dreamed dyspeptically, and William and I made hercomfortable by the camp-fire.

>   It takes a pretty girl to look pretty half asleep in a blanket.

  "Are you sure you are quite well?" I asked her.

  To make sure, I tested her pulse. For an hour it varied more or less,but without alarming either of us. Then she went back to bed and I satalone by the camp-fire.

  Towards midnight I suddenly began to feel that strange, distantvibration that I had once before felt. As before, the vibration grewon the still air, increasing in volume until it became a sound, thendied out into silence.

  I rose and stole into my tent.

  William, white as death, lay in his corner, weeping in his sleep.

  I roused him remorselessly, and he sat up scowling, but refused totell me what he had been dreaming.

  "Was it about that third thing you saw--" I began. But he snarled upat me like a startled animal, and I was obliged to go to bed and tossabout and speculate.

  The next morning it rained. Dorothy and I visited our dingue-trap butfound nothing in it. We were inclined, however, to stay out in therain behind a big tree, but Professor Smawl vetoed that propositionand sent me off to supply the larder with fresh meat.

  I returned, mad and wet, with a dozen partridges and a whitehare--brown at that season--and William cooked them vilely.

  "I can taste the feathers!" said Professor Smawl, indignantly.

  "There is no accounting for taste," I said, with a polite gesture ofdeprecation; "personally, I find feathers unpalatable."

  "You may hand in your resignation this evening!" cried ProfessorSmawl, in hollow tones of passion.

  I passed her the pancakes with a cheerful smile, and flippantlypressed the hand next me. Unexpectedly it proved to be William'ssticky fist, and Dorothy and I laughed until her tears ran intoProfessor Smawl's coffee-cup--an accident which kindled her wrath tored heat, and she requested my resignation five times during theevening.

  The next day it rained again, more or less. Professor Smawl complainedof the cooking, demanded my resignation, and finally marched out toexplore, lugging the reluctant William with her. Dorothy and I satdown behind the largest tree we could find.

  I don't remember what we were saying when a peculiar sound interruptedus, and we listened earnestly.

  It was like a bell in the woods, ding-dong! ding-dong! ding-dong!--alow, mellow, golden harmony, coming nearer, then stopping.

  I clasped Dorothy in my arms in my excitement.

  "It is the note of the dingue!" I whispered, "and that explains itsname, handed down from remote ages along with the names of thebehemoth and the coney. It was because of its bell-like cry that itwas named! Darling!" I cried, forgetting our short acquaintance, "wehave made a discovery that the whole world will ring with!"

  Hand in hand we tiptoed through the forest to our trap. There wassomething in it that took fright at our approach and rushedpanic-stricken round and round the interior of the trap, uttering itsalarm-note, which sounded like the jangling of a whole string ofbells.

  I seized the strangely beautiful creature; it neither attempted tobite nor scratch, but crouched in my arms, trembling and eying me.

  Delighted with the lovely, tame animal, we bore it tenderly back tothe camp and placed it on my blanket. Hand in hand we stood before it,awed by the sight of this beast, so long believed to be extinct.

  "It is too good to be true," sighed Dorothy, clasping her white handsunder her chin and gazing at the dingue in rapture.

  "Yes," said I, solemnly, "you and I, my child, are face to face withthe fabled dingue--_Dingus solitarius_! Let us continue to gaze at it,reverently, prayerfully, humbly--"

  Dorothy yawned--probably with excitement.

  We were still mutely adoring the dingue when Professor Smawl burstinto the tent at a hand-gallop, bawling hoarsely for her kodak andnote-book.

  Dorothy seized her triumphantly by the arm and pointed at the dingue,which appeared to be frightened to death.

  "What!" cried Professor Smawl, scornfully; "_that_ a dingue? Rubbish!"

  "Madam," I said, firmly, "it is a dingue! It's a monodactyl! See! Ithas but a single toe!"

  "Bosh!" she retorted; "it's got four!"

  "Four!" I repeated, blankly.

  "Yes; one on each foot!"

  "Of course," I said; "you didn't suppose a monodactyl meant a beastwith one leg and one toe!"

  But she laughed hatefully and declared it was a woodchuck.

  We squabbled for a while until I saw the significance of her attitude.The unfortunate woman wished to find a dingue first and be accreditedwith the discovery.

  I lifted the dingue in both hands and shook the creature gently, untilthe chiming ding-dong of its protestations filled our ears like sweetbells jangled out of tune.

  Pale with rage at this final proof of the dingue's identity, sheseized her camera and note-book.

  "I haven't any time to waste over that musical woodchuck!" sheshouted, and bounced out of the tent.

  "What have you discovered, dear?" cried Dorothy, running after her.

  "A mammoth!" bawled Professor Smawl, triumphantly; "and I'm going tophotograph him!"

  Neither Dorothy nor I believed her. We watched the flight of theinfatuated woman in silence.

  And now, at last, the tragic shadow falls over my paper as I write. Iwas never passionately attached to Professor Smawl, yet I would gladlyrefrain from chronicling the episode that must follow if, as I havehitherto attempted, I succeed in sticking to the unornamented truth.

  I have said that neither Dorothy nor I believed her. I don't know why,unless it was that we had not yet made up our minds to believe thatthe mammoth still existed on earth. So, when Professor Smawldisappeared in the forest, scuttling through the underbrush like ademoralized hen, we viewed her flight with unconcern. There was alarge tree in the neighborhood--a pleasant shelter in case of rain. Sowe sat down behind it, although the sun was shining fiercely.

  It was one of those peaceful afternoons in the wilderness when thewhole forest dreams, and the shadows are asleep and every littleleaflet takes a nap. Under the still tree-tops the dappled sunlight,motionless, soaked the sod; the forest-flies no longer whirled incircles, but sat sunning their wings on slender twig-tips.

  The heat was sweet and spicy; the sun drew out the delicate essenceof gum and sap, warming volatile juices until they exhaled through thearomatic bark.

  The sun went down into the wilderness; the forest stirred in itssleep; a fish splashed in the lake. The spell was broken. Presentlythe wind began to rise somewhere far away in the unknown land. I heardit coming, nearer, nearer--a brisk wind that grew heavier and blewharder as it neared us--a gale that swept distant branches--a furiousgale that set limbs clashing and cracking, nearer and nearer. Crack!and the gale grew to a hurricane, trampling trees like dead twigs!Crack! Crackle! Crash! Crash!

  _Was it the wind?_

  With the roaring in my ears I sprang up, staring into the forestvista, and at the same instant, out of the crashing forest, spedProfessor Smawl, skirts tucked up, thin legs flying likebicycle-spokes. I shouted, but the crashing drowned my voice. Then allat once the solid earth began to shake, and with the rush and roar ofa tornado a gigantic living thing burst out of the forest before oureyes--a vast shadowy bulk that rocked and rolled along, mowing downtrees in its course.

  Two great crescents of ivory curved from its head; its back sweptthrough the tossing tree-tops. Once it bellowed like a gun fired froma high bastion.

  The apparition passed with the noise of thunder rolling on towards theends of the earth. Crack! crash! went the trees, the tempest sweptaway in a rolling volley of reports, distant, more distant, until,long after the tumult had deadened, then ceased, the stunned forestechoed with the fall of mangled branches slowly dropping.

  That evening an agitated young couple sat close together in thedeserted camp, calling timidly at intervals for Professor Smawl andWilliam Spike. I say timidly, because it is correct; we did not careto have a mammoth respond to our calls. The lurking echoes across thelake answered our cries; the full
moon came up over the forest to lookat us. We were not much to look at. Dorothy was moistening my shoulderwith unfeigned tears, and I, afraid to light the fire, sat hunched upunder the common blanket, wildly examining the darkness around us.

  Chilled to the spinal marrow, I watched the gray lights whiten in theeast. A single bird awoke in the wilderness. I saw the nearer treeslooming in the mist, and the silver fog rolling on the lake.

  All night long the darkness had vibrated with the strange monotonewhich I had heard the first night, camping at the gate of the unknownland. My brain seemed to echo that subtle harmony which rings in theauricular labyrinth after sound has ceased.

  There are ghosts of sound which return to haunt long after sound isdead. It was these voiceless spectres of a voice long dead thatstirred the transparent silence, intoning toneless tones.

  I think I make myself clear.

  It was an uncanny night; morning whitened the east; gray daylightstole into the woods, blotting the shadows to paler tints. It wasnearly mid-day before the sun became visible through the fine-spun webof mist--a pale spot of gilt in the zenith.

  By this pallid light I labored to strike the two empty tents, gatherup our equipments and pack them on our five mules. Dorothy aided mebravely, whimpering when I spoke of Professor Smawl and William Spike,but abating nothing of her industry until we had the mules loaded andI was ready to drive them, Heaven knows whither.

  "Where shall we go?" quavered Dorothy, sitting on a log with thedingue in her lap.

  One thing was certain; this mammoth-ridden land was no place forwomen, and I told her so.

  We placed the dingue in a basket and tied it around the leading mule'sneck. Immediately the dingue, alarmed, began dingling like a cow-bell.It acted like a charm on the other mules, and they gravely filed offafter their leader, following the bell. Dorothy and I, hand in hand,brought up the rear.

  I shall never forget that scene in the forest--the gray arch of theheavens swimming in mist through which the sun peered shiftily, thetall pines wavering through the fog, the preoccupied mules marchingsingle file, the foggy bell-note of the gentle dingue in its swingingbasket, and Dorothy, limp kilts dripping with dew, plodding throughthe white dusk.

  We followed the terrible tornado-path which the mammoth had left inits wake, but there were no traces of its human victims--neither onejot of Professor Smawl nor one solitary tittle of William Spike.

  And now I would be glad to end this chapter if I could; I would gladlyleave myself as I was, there in the misty forest, with an armencircling the slender body of my little companion, and the mulesmoving in a monotonous line, and the dingue discreetly jingling--butagain that menacing shadow falls across my page, and truth bids metell all, and I, the slave of accuracy, must remember my vows as thedauntless disciple of truth.

  Towards sunset--or that pale parody of sunset which set the forestswimming in a ghastly, colorless haze--the mammoth's trail of ruinbrought us suddenly out of the trees to the shore of a great sheet ofwater.

  It was a desolate spot; northward a chaos of sombre peaks rose, piledup like thunder-clouds along the horizon; east and south the darkeningwilderness spread like a pall. Westward, crawling out into the mistfrom our very feet, the gray waste of water moved under the dull sky,and flat waves slapped the squatting rocks, heavy with slime.

  And now I understood why the trail of the mammoth continued straightinto the lake, for on either hand black, filthy tamarack swamps layunder ghostly sheets of mist. I strove to creep out into the bog,seeking a footing, but the swamp quaked and the smooth surfacetrembled like jelly in a bowl. A stick thrust into the slime sank intounknown depths.

  Vaguely alarmed, I gained the firm land again and looked around,believing there was no road open but the desolate trail we hadtraversed. But I was in error; already the leading mule was wading outinto the water, and the others, one by one, followed.

  How wide the lake might be we could not tell, because the band of foghung across the water like a curtain. Yet out into this flat, shallowvoid our mules went steadily, slop! slop! slop! in single file.Already they were growing indistinct in the fog, so I bade Dorothyhasten and take off her shoes and stockings.

  She was ready before I was, I having to unlace my shooting-boots, andshe stepped out into the water, kilts fluttering, moving her whitefeet cautiously. In a moment I was beside her, and we waded forward,sounding the shallow water with our poles.

  When the water had risen to Dorothy's knees I hesitated, alarmed. Butwhen we attempted to retrace our steps we could not find the shoreagain, for the blank mist shrouded everything, and the water deepenedat every step.

  I halted and listened for the mules. Far away in the fog I heard adull splashing, receding as I listened. After a while all sound diedaway, and a slow horror stole over me--a horror that froze the littlenet-work of veins in every limb. A step to the right and the waterrose to my knees; a step to the left and the cold, thin circle of theflood chilled my breast. Suddenly Dorothy screamed, and the nextmoment a far cry answered--a far, sweet cry that seemed to come fromthe sky, like the rushing harmony of the world's swift winds. Then thecurtain of fog before us lighted up from behind; shadows moved on themisty screen, outlines of trees and grassy shores, and tiny birdsflying. Thrown on the vapory curtain, in silhouette, a man and a womanpassed under the lovely trees, arms about each other's necks; nearthem the shadows of five mules grazed peacefully; a dingue gambolledclose by.

  "It is a mirage!" I muttered, but my voice made no sound. Slowly thelight behind the fog died out; the vapor around us turned to rose,then dissolved, while mile on mile of a limitless sea spread awaytill, like a quick line pencilled at a stroke, the horizon cut sky andsea in half, and before us lay an ocean from which towered a mountainof snow--or a gigantic berg of milky ice--for it was moving.

  "Good Heavens," I shrieked; "it is alive!"

  At the sound of my crazed cry the mountain of snow became a pillar,towering to the clouds, and a wave of golden glory drenched the figureto its knees! Figure? Yes--for a colossal arm shot across the sky,then curved back in exquisite grace to a head of awful beauty--awoman's head, with eyes like the blue lake of heaven--ay, a woman'ssplendid form, upright from the sky to the earth, knee-deep in thesea. The evening clouds drifted across her brow; her shimmering hairlighted the world beneath with sunset. Then, shading her white browwith one hand, she bent, and with the other hand dipped in the sea,she sent a wave rolling at us. Straight out of the horizon it sped--aripple that grew to a wave, then to a furious breaker which caught usup in a whirl of foam, bearing us onward, faster, faster, swiftlyflying through leagues of spray until consciousness ceased and all wasblank.

  Yet ere my senses fled I heard again that strange cry--that sweet,thrilling harmony rushing out over the foaming waters, filling earthand sky with its soundless vibrations.

  And I knew it was the hail of the Spirit of the North warning us backto life again.

  * * * * *

  Looking back, now, over the days that passed before we staggered intothe Hudson Bay outpost at Gravel Cove, I am inclined to believe thatneither Dorothy nor I were clothed entirely in our proper minds--or,if we were, our minds, no doubt, must have been in the same conditionas our clothing. I remember shooting ptarmigan, and that we ate them;flashes of memory recall the steady downpour of rain through theendless twilight of shaggy forests; dim days on the foggy tundra,mud-holes from which the wild ducks rose in thousands; then thestunted hemlocks, then the forest again. And I do not even recall themoment when, at last, stumbling into the smooth path left by theGraham Glacier, we crawled through the mountain-wall, out of theunknown land, and once more into a world protected by the LordAlmighty.

  A hunting-party of Elbon Indians brought us in to the post, andeverybody was most kind--that I remember, just before going intoseveral weeks of unpleasant delirium mercifully mitigated withunconsciousness.

  Curiously enough, Professor Van Twiller was not very much battered,physically, for I had
carried her for days, pickaback. But the awfulexperience had produced a shock which resulted in a nervous conditionthat lasted so long after she returned to New York that the wealthyand eminent specialist who attended her insisted upon taking her tothe Riviera and marrying her. I sometimes wonder--but, as I have said,such reflections have no place in these austere pages.

  However, anybody, I fancy, is at liberty to speculate upon the fate ofthe late Professor Smawl and William Spike, and upon the mules and thegentle dingue. Personally, I am convinced that the suggestivesilhouettes I saw on that ghastly curtain of fog were cast bybeatified beings in some earthly paradise--a mirage of bliss of whichwe caught but the colorless shadow-shapes floating 'twixt sea andsky.

  At all events, neither Professor Smawl nor her William Spike everreturned; no exploring expedition has found a trace of mule or lady,of William or the dingue. The new expedition to be organized byBarnard College may penetrate still farther. I suppose that, when thetime comes, I shall be expected to volunteer. But Professor VanTwiller is married, and William and Professor Smawl ought to be, andaltogether, considering the mammoth and that gigantic and splendidapparition that bent from the zenith to the ocean and sent atidal-wave rolling from the palm of one white hand--I say, taking allthese various matters under consideration, I think I shall decide toremain in New York and continue writing for the scientificperiodicals. Besides, the mortifying experience at the ParisExposition has dampened even my perennially youthful enthusiasm. Andas for the late expedition to Florida, Heaven knows I am ready torepeat it--nay, I am already forming a plan for the rescue--but thoughI am prepared to encounter any danger for the sake of my belovedsuperior, Professor Farrago, I do not feel inclined to commitindiscretions in order to pry into secrets which, as I regard it,concern Professor Smawl and William Spike alone.

  But all this is, in a measure, premature. What I now have to relate isthe recital of an eye-witness to that most astonishing scandal whichoccurred during the recent exposition in Paris.