Produced by Charles Keller
THE LOST CITY
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. NATURE IN TRAVAIL II. PROFESSOR FEATHERWIT TAKING NOTES III. RIDING THE TORNADO IV. THE PROFESSOR'S LITTLE EXPERIMENT V. THE PROFESSOR'S UNKNOWN LAND VI. A BRACE OF UNWELCOME VISITORS VII. THE PROFESSOR'S GREAT ANTICIPATIONS VIII. A DUEL TO THE DEATH IX. GRAPPLING A QUEER FISH X. RESCUED AND RESCUERS XI. ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR THE PROFESSOR XII. THE STORY OF A BROKEN LIFE XIII. THE LOST CITY OF THE AZTECS XIV. A MARVELLOUS VISION XV. ASTOUNDING, YET TRUE XVI. CAN IT BE TRUE? XVII. AN ENIGMA FOR THE BROTHERS XVIII. SOMETHING LIKE A WHITE ELEPHANT XIX. THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN GOD XX. THE PROFESSOR AND THE AZTEC XXI. DISCUSSING WAYS AND MEANS XXII. A DARING UNDERTAKING XXIII. A FLIGHT UNDERGROUND XXIV. THE SUN CHILDREN'S PERIL XXV. WALDO GOES FISHING XXVI. DOWN AMONG THE DEAD XXVII. PENETRATING GRIM SECRETS XXVIII. BROUGHT BEFORE THE GODS XXIX. BENEATH THE SACRIFICIAL STONE XXX. AGAINST OVERWHELMING ODDS XXXI. DEFENDING THE SUN CHILDREN XXXII. ADIEU TO THE LOST CITY
THE LOST CITY.
CHAPTER I. NATURE IN TRAVAIL.
"I say, professor?"
"Very well, Waldo; proceed."
"Wonder if this isn't a portion of the glorious climate, broken loosefrom its native California, and drifting up this way on a lark?"
"If so, said lark must be roasted to a turn," declared the third (andlast) member of that little party, drawing a curved forefinger acrosshis forehead, then flirting aside sundry drops of moisture. "I can'trecall such another muggy afternoon, and if we were only back in whatthe scientists term the cyclone belt--"
"We would be all at sea," quickly interposed the professor, the fingersof one hand vigorously stirring his gray pompadour, while the otherwas lifted in a deprecatory manner. "At sea, literally as well asmetaphorically, my dear Bruno; for, correctly speaking, the ocean alonecan give birth to the cyclone."
"Why can't you remember anything, boy?" sternly cut in the roguish-eyedyoungster, with admonitory forefinger, coming to the front. "How manytimes have I told you never to say blue when you mean green? Why don'tyou say Kansas zephyr? Or windy-auger? Or twister? Or whirly-gust on acorkscrew wiggle-waggle? Or--well, almost any other old thing that youcan't think of at the right time? W-h-e-w! Who mentioned sitting on asnowdrift, and sucking at an icicle? Hot? Well, now, if this isn't agenuine old cyclone breeder, then I wouldn't ask a cent!"
Waldo Gillespie let his feet slip from beneath him, sitting down withgreater force than grace, back supported against a gnarled juniper,loosening the clothes at his neck while using his other hand to ply hiscrumpled hat as a fan.
Bruno laughed outright at this characteristic anticlimax, whileProfessor Featherwit was obliged to smile, even while compelled tocorrect.
"Tornado, please, nephew; not cyclone."
"Well, uncle Phaeton, have it your own way. Under either name, Ifancy the thing-a-ma-jig would kick up a high old bobbery with a man'spolitical economy should it chance to go bu'st right there! And,besides, when I was a weenty little fellow I was taught never to calla man a fool or a liar--"
"Waldo!" sharply warned his brother, turning again.
"So long as I knew myself to be in the wrong," coolly finished theyoungster, face grave, but eyes twinkling, as they turned towards hismistaken mentor. "What is it, my dear Bruno?"
"There is one thing neither cyclone nor tornado could ever deprive youof, Kid, and that is--"
"My beauty, wit, and good sense,--thanks, awfully! Nor you, my dearBruno, although my inbred politeness forbids my explaining just why."
There was a queer-sounding chuckle as Professor Featherwit turned away,busying himself about that rude-built shed and shanty which shelteredthe pride of his brain and the pet of his heart, while Bruno smiledindulgently as he took a few steps away from those stunted trees inorder to gain a fairer view of the stormy heavens.
Far away towards the northeast, rising above the distant hill, nowshowed an ugly-looking cloud-bank which almost certainly portended astorm of no ordinary dimensions.
Had it first appeared in the opposite quarter of the horizon, Brunowould have felt a stronger interest in the clouds, knowing as he didthat the miscalled "cyclone" almost invariably finds birth inthe southwest. Then, too, nearly all the other symptoms werenoticeable,--the close, "muggy" atmosphere; the deathlike stillness; thelack of oxygen in the air, causing one to breathe more rapidly, yet withfar less satisfying results than usual.
Even as Bruno gazed, those heavy cloud-banks changed, both in shapeand in colour, taking on a peculiar greenish lustre which only tooaccurately forebodes hail of no ordinary force.
His cry to this effect brought the professor forth from the shed-likeshanty, while Waldo roused up sufficiently to speak:
"To say nothing of yonder formation way out over the salty drink, myworthy friends, who intimated that a cyclone was born at sea?"
Professor Featherwit frowned a bit as his keen little rat-like eyesturned towards that quarter of the heavens; but the frown was not forWaldo, nor for his slightly irreverent speech.
Where but a few minutes before there had been only a few light cloudsin sight, was now a heavy bank of remarkable shape, its crest a straightline as though marked by an enormous ruler, while the lower edge wasbroken into sharp points and irregular sections, the whole seeming tofloat upon a low sea of grayish copper.
"Well, well, that looks ugly, decidedly ugly, I must confess," the wirylittle professor spoke, after that keen scrutiny.
"Really, now?" drawled Waldo, who was nothing if not contrary on thesurface. "Barring a certain little topsy-turvyness which is somethingout of the ordinary, I'd call that a charming bit of--Great guns andlittle cannon-balls!"
For just then there came a shrieking blast of wind from out thenortheast, bringing upon its wings a brief shower of hail, intermingledwith great drops of rain which pelted all things with scarcely lessforce than did those frozen particles.
"Hurrah!" shrilly screamed Waldo, as he dashed out into the storm,fairly revelling in the sudden change. "Who says this isn't 'way up inG?' Who says--out of the way, Bruno! Shut that trap-door in your face,so another fellow may get at least a share of the good things comingstraight down from--ow--wow!"
Through the now driving rain came flashing larger particles, and oneof more than ordinary size rebounded from that curly pate, sending itsowner hurriedly to shelter beneath the scrubby trees, one hand ruefullyrubbing the injured part.
Faster fell the drops, both of rain and of ice, clattering against theshanty and its adjoining shed with an uproar audible even above thesullenly rolling peals of heavy thunder.
The rain descended in perfect sheets for a few minutes, while thehailstones fell thicker and faster, growing in size as the storm raged,already beginning to lend those red sands a pearly tinge with theirdancing particles. Now and then an aerial monster would fall, to drawa wondering cry from the brothers, and on more than one occasion Waldorisked a cracked crown by dashing forth from shelter to snatch up aremarkable specimen.
"Talk about your California fruit! what's the matter with good oldWashington Territory?" he cried, tightly clenching one fist and holdinga hailstone alongside by way of comparison. "Look at that, will you?Isn't it a beauty? See the different shaded rings of white and clearice. See--brother, it is as large as my fist!"
But for once Professor Phaeton Featherwit was fairly deaf to the claimsof this, in some respects his favourite nephew, having scuttled backbeneath the shed, where he was busily stowing away sundry articles ofimportance into a queerly shaped machine which tho
se rough planks fairlyshielded from the driving storm.
Having performed this duty to his own satisfaction, the professor cameback to where the brothers were standing, viewing with them such of thestorm as could be itemised. That was but little, thanks to the drivingrain, which cut one's vision short at but a few rods, while thedeafening peals of thunder prevented any connected conversation duringthose first few minutes.
"Good thing we've got a shelter!" cried Waldo, involuntarily shrinkingas the plank roof was hammered by several mammoth stones of ice. "One ofthose chunks of ice would crack a fellow's skull just as easy!"
Yet the next instant he was out in the driving storm, eagerly snatchingat a brace of those frozen marvels, heedless of his own risk or of thewarning shouts sent after him by those cooler-brained comrades.
Thunder crashed in wildest unison with almost blinding sheets oflightning, the rain and hail falling thicker and heavier than ever for afew moments; but then, as suddenly as it had come, the storm passed on,leaving but a few scattered drops to fetch up the rear.
"Isn't that pretty nearly what people call a cloudburst, uncle Phaeton?"asked Bruno, curiously watching that receding mass of what from theirpresent standpoint looked like vapour.
"Those wholly ignorant of meteorological phenomena might so pronounce,perhaps, but never one who has given the matter either thought orstudy," promptly responded the professor, in no wise loth to give a freelecture, no matter how brief it might be, perforce. "It is merely natureseeking to restore a disturbed equilibrium; a current of colder air, insearch of a temporary vacuum, caused by--"
"But isn't that just what produces cy--tornadoes, though?" interruptedWaldo, with scant politeness.
"Precisely, my dear boy," blandly agreed their mentor, rubbing hishands briskly, while peering through rain-dampened glasses, after thatdeparting storm. "And I have scarcely a doubt but that a tornado of noordinary magnitude will be the final outcome of this remarkable display.For, as the record will amply prove, the most destructive windstorms areinvariably heralded by a fall of hail, heavy in proportion to the--"
"Then I'd rather be excused, thank you, sir!" again interrupted theyounger of the brothers, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped forthfrom shelter to win a fairer view of the space stretching away towardsthe south and the west. "I always laughed at tales of hailstones largeas hen's eggs, but now I know better. If I was a hen, and had to matchsuch a pattern as these, I'd petition the legislature to change my nameto that of ostrich,--I just would, now!"
Bruno proved to be a little more amenable to the law of politeness, andto him Professor Featherwit confined his sapient remarks for the timebeing, giving no slight amount of valuable information anent thesestrange phenomena of nature in travail.
He spoke of the different varieties of land-storms, showing how atornado varied from a hurricane or a gale, then again brought to thefront the vital difference between a cyclone, as such, and the miscalled"twister," which has wrought such dire destruction throughout a largeportion of our own land during more recent years.
While that little lecture would make interesting reading for those whotake an interest in such matters, it need scarcely be reproduced in thisconnection, more particularly as, just when the professor was gettingfairly warmed up to his work, an interruption came in the shape of asharp, eager shout from the lips of Waldo Gillespie.
"Look--look yonder! What a funny looking cloud that is!"
A small clump of trees growing upon a rising bit of ground interferedwith the view of his brother and uncle, for Waldo was pointing almostdue southeast; yet his excitement was so pronounced that both theprofessor and Bruno hastened in that direction, stopping short as theycaught a fair sight of the object indicated.
A mighty mass of wildly disturbed clouds, black and green and white andyellow all blending together and constantly shifting positions, out ofwhich was suddenly formed a still more ominous shape.
A mass of lurid vapour shot downwards, taking on the general semblanceof a balloon, as it swayed madly back and forth, an elongating trunk ortongue reaching still nearer the earth, with fierce gyrations, as thoughseeking to fasten upon some support.
Not one of that trio had ever before gazed upon just such anothercreation, yet one and all recognised the truth,--this was a veritabletornado, just such as they had read in awed wonder about, time and timeagain.
Neither one of the brothers Gillespie were cravens, in any sense of theword, but now their cheeks grew paler, and they seemed to shrink fromyonder airy monster, even while watching it grow into shape and awfulpower.
Professor Featherwit was no less absorbed in this wondrous spectacle,but his was the interest of a scientist, and his pulse beat as ordinary,his brain remaining as clear and calm as ever.
"I hardly believe we have anything to fear from this tornado, my lads,"he said, taking note of their uneasiness. "According to both rule andprecedent, yonder tornado will pass to the east of our present position,and we will be as safe right here as though we were a thousand milesaway."
"But,--do they always move towards the northeast, uncle Phaeton?"
"As a rule, yes; but there are exceptions, of course. And unless thisshould prove to be one of those rare ex--er--"
"Look!" cried Waldo, with swift gesticulation. "It's coming this way, orI never--ISN'T it coming this way?"
"Unless this should prove to be one of those rare exceptions, my dearboy, I can promise you that--Upon my soul!" with an abrupt change ofboth tone and manner, "I really believe it IS coming this way!"
"It is--it is coming! Get a move on, or we'll never know--hunt a holeand pull it in after you!" fairly screamed Waldo, turning in flight.
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