The Lost City

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by Jos. E. Badger


  CHAPTER XI. ANOTHER SURPRISE FOR THE PROFESSOR.

  The stranger laughed aloud at this, then seemed surprised that aughtof mirth could be awakened where grief and despair had so long reignedsupreme.

  "You will come with me to--to my den, gentlemen?" he asked, stillnervous, and plainly loath to do aught which indicated a return to hisrecent dreary method of living.

  "Is the distance great?" asked Professor Featherwit, with a glancetowards the aeromotor, then flashing his gaze further, as though toguard against possible harm coming to that valuable piece of property.

  More than ever to be guarded now, since the words spoken by thisexile. Better death in yonder mighty whirlpool than a half-score years'imprisonment here!

  Not so very far, he was assured, while it would be comparatively easy tofloat the air-ship above the trees, there of no extraordinary growth.

  At the same time this assurance was given, the stranger could not maskhis uneasiness of mind, and it was really pitiful to see one so strongin body and limb, so weak otherwise.

  But uncle Phaeton was a fairly keen judge of human nature, and possessedno small degree of tact. Divining the real cause of that dread, he tookthe easiest method of allaying it, speaking briskly as he moved acrossto the aerostat.

  "Bear the gentleman company, my lads, while I manage the ship. You willknow what signals to make, and I can contrive the rest."

  Again the recluse laughed, but now it was through pure joy, such as hehad not experienced for long years gone by. He was not to be desertedby his rescuers from the whirlpool, and that was comfort enough for themoment.

  Thanks to that guidance, but little time was cut to waste, ProfessorFeatherwit taking the flying-machine away from the shore of the lake,floating slowly above the tree-tops, guiding his movements by thosebelow, finally effecting a safe landing in a miniature glade, at nogreat distance from the "den" alluded to by their new-found friend.

  "It will be perfectly safe here," the exile hastened to give assurance,as that landing was made. "Then, too, this is the only spot nigh athand from which a hasty ascent could well be made, even with such anadmirable machine as yours. Ah, me!" with a long breath which lacked butlittle of being a sigh, as he keenly, eagerly examined the aerostat. "Amarvel! Who would have dared predict such another, only a dozen yearsago? I thought we had drawn very close to perfection while I was in theprofession, but this,--marvellous!"

  Both words and manner gave the keen-witted professor a clew to onemystery, and he quickly spoke:

  "Then you were familiar with aerostatics, sir? Your name is--"

  "Edgecombe,--Cooper Edgecombe."

  "What?" with undisguised surprise in face as in voice. "ProfessorEdgecombe, the celebrated balloonist who was lost so long ago?"

  "Ay! lost here in this thrice accursed wilderness!" passionately criedthe exile; then, as though abashed by his own outburst, he turned away,pausing again only when at the entrance to his dreary refuge of manyyears.

  "Give the poor fellow his own way until he has had time to rally, boys,"muttered uncle Phaeton, in lowered tones, before following that lead. "Ican understand it better, now, and this is--still is the terra incognitaof which I have dreamed so long!"

  That refuge proved to be a large, fairly dry cavern, the entrance towhich was admirably masked by vines and creepers, while the stony soiljust there retained no trace of footprints to tell dangerous tales.

  Mr. Edgecombe vanished, but not for long. Then, showing a light, formedof fat and twisted wick in a hollowed bit of hardwood, he begged hisrescuers to enter.

  No second invitation was needed, for even the professor felt a powerfulcuriosity to learn what method had been followed by this enforced exile;how he had managed to live for so many weary years.

  With only that smoky lamp to shed light around the place, criticalinvestigation was a matter of time and painstaking, although a generalidea of the cavern was readily formed.

  High overhead arched the rocky roof, blackened by smoke, and lookingmore gloomy than nature had intended. The side walls were likewiseirregular, now showing tiny niches and nooks, then jutting out to formawkward points and elbows, which were but partially disguised by sucharticles of wear and daily use as the exile had collected during theyears gone by, or since his occupancy first began.

  So much the professor took in with his initial glances, but then he leftWaldo and his brother to look more closely, himself giving thought tothe being whom they had so happily saved from the whirlpool.

  "Professor Edgecombe!" he again exclaimed, grasping those roughenedhands to press them cordially. "I ought to have recognised you at sight,no doubt, since I have watched your ascents time and time again."

  The exile smiled faintly, shaking his head and giving another sigh.

  "Ah, me! 'twas vastly different, then. I only marvel that you shouldgive me credit when I lay claim to that name, so long--it has long fadedfrom the public's memory, sir."

  But uncle Phaeton shook his head, decidedly.

  "No, no, I assure you, my friend; far from it. Whenever the topic isbrought to the front; whenever aerostatics are discussed, your name andfame are sure to play a prominent part. And yet,--you disappeared solong ago, never being heard of after--"

  "After sailing away upon the storm for which I had waited and prayed,for so many weary, heart-sick months!"

  "So the rumour ran, but we all believed that must be an exaggeration,and not for a long time was all hope abandoned. Then, more hearts thanone felt sore and sad at thoughts of your untimely fate."

  "A fate infinitely worse than ordinary death such as was credited me,"huskily muttered the exile. "Ten years,--and ever since I have beenhere, helpless to extricate myself, doomed to a living death, which noneother can ever fully realise! Doomed to--to--"

  His voice choked, and he turned away to hide his emotions.

  Professor Featherwit thoroughly appreciated the interruption which camethrough Waldo's lips just at that moment.

  "Oh, I say,--uncle Phaeton!"

  "What is it, lad? Don't meddle with what doesn't--"

  "Looking can't hurt, can it? And to think people ever got along withsuch things as these!"

  Waldo was squared before sundry articles depending from the sidewall, and as the professor drew closer, he, too, displayed a degree ofinterest which was really remarkable.

  A gaily colored tunic of thickly quilted cotton was hanging beside anoddly shaped war club, the heavier end of which was armed with blades ofstone which gleamed and sparkled even in that dim light. And attached tothis weapon was another, hardly less curious: a knife formed of copper,with heft and blade all from one piece of metal.

  "Here is the rest of the outfit," said Edgecombe, holding forth a bowand several feathered arrows with obsidian heads.

  Professor Featherwit gave a low, eager cry as he handled the variousarticles, both face and manner betraying intense delight, which foundpartial vent in words a little later.

  "Wonderful! Marvellous! Superb! I envy you, sir; I can't help but envyyour possession of so magnificent--and so well-preserved, too! That isthe marvel of marvels!"

  "Well, to be sure, I haven't used them very much. The bow and arrows Icould manage fairly well, after busy practice. They have saved me frommore than one hungry night. But as for the rest--"

  "You might have worn the--Is it a ghost-dance shirt, though?"hesitatingly asked Waldo, gingerly fingering the wadded tunic.

  "Waldo, I'm ashamed of you, boy!" almost harshly reproved the professor."Ghost-dance shirt, indeed! And this one of the most complete--the onlyperfectly preserved specimen of the ancient Aztec--pray, my good friend,where did you discover them? Surely there can be no burial mounds so farabove the latitude where that unfortunate race lived and died?"

  Mr. Edgecombe shook his head, with a puzzled look, then made reply:

  "No, sir. I took these all from an Indian I was forced to kill in orderto save my own life. I never thought--You are ill, sir?"

  "Bless my soul!" ejaculate
d the professor, falling back a pace or two,then sitting down with greater force than grace, all the while gazingupon those weapons like one in a daze. "Found them--Indian--killed himin order to--bless my soul!"

  Then, with marvellous activity for one of his age, the professorrecovered his footing, mumbling something about tripping a heel, thenresumed his examination of the curiosities as though he had care fornaught beside.

  Cooper Edgecombe turned away, and the professor improved the opportunityby muttering to the brothers:

  "Careful, lads. Give the poor fellow his own way in all things, for heis--he surely must be--eh?"

  Forefinger covertly tapped forehead, for there was no time granted forfurther explanations. Edgecombe turned again, speaking in hard, evenstrained tones:

  "Fifteen years ago this month, on the 27th, to be exact, a balloon withtwo passengers was carried away on a terrific gale of wind which blewfrom the southeast. This happened in Washington Territory. Can you tellme--has anything ever been heard of either balloon or its inmates?"

  Professor Featherwit shook his head in negation before saying:

  "Not to my knowledge, though doubtless the prints of the day--"

  Cooper Edgecombe shook both head and hand with strange impatience.

  "No, no. I know they were never heard from up to ten years ago, butsince then--I am a fool to even dream of such a thing, and yet,--onlyfor that faint hope I would have gone mad long ago!"

  Indeed, he looked little less than insane as it was.

 

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