The world below
ground, slimy enough, but firm also, and felt the soft touch on my cheek
that I had felt before, and knew that trees were round us.
We went on for a hundred yards, while the ground sloped upward. Then it
commenced to fall away, and we stopped at once. There we stayed, and
there, at last, the dawn found us, still distant from the cover which we
had aimed to reach in the darkness.
We were on a narrow twisting tongue of land, perhaps fifty yards broad
by two-hundred long, the conformation of which had betrayed us to the
swamp in the darkness. On the left hand it merged into bog and water,
with occasional islands of verdure, and scattered trees. On the right
hand was the deep water of the great lake that we had seen from the
mountains two days before.
The sun had not yet appeared above the ridge of higher ground that ran
between us and the sea, but the faint light of dawn was sufficient to
show us a mile-width of still water, and beyond it a level woodland of
great trees, the extent of which, from the low ground on which we stood,
we could not determine.
The few trees that surrounded us were of a different character. Most of
them were of the kind that had touched us in the night so weirdly. They
had trunks of a livid white, not more than eight feet high, from the top
of which a cluster of rising boughs rayed outward. On the length of
these there were no leaves, but large flowers of a very brilliant
scarlet only, while at the end of every bough grew a cluster of long
ribbon-like leaves of a bright green, that hung downward, almost to the
ground in the still air, or fluttered very lightly when the wind stirred
them. I was not sure whether I thought them beautiful, or strange only.
I had an unreasonable feeling that they were unfriendly.
In the hollow of one of these tree-tops, where the branches rose, there
sat a duck-billed bird, of a halcyon blue colour, and of the size, and
somewhat of the shape of a partridge. As the dawn widened, it rose and
flew outward, not crossing the lake, but going up the mid-water, to the
right, where it extended for many miles, gradually widening as it did
so.
“It does not fear us at all,” I remarked to my companion, before it rose
to leave us.
“I made peace in the night with all things,” she answered, “come and
see. You will know that it was needful.”
I walked with her to the end of the tongue of land on which we stood,
and, where the lake and swamp were mingling, there were huge shapes that
wallowed in the mud like gigantic tadpoles, but with two forelimbs,
short and thick, and ending in a row of claws of great length. A
hippopotamus would have been small beside them. The most part of the
head was a large-toothed mouth, flat and shallow, with one down-curving
tusk, growing like a hook from the centre of the upper jaw. There were
two large circular eyes, on the top of the flat head.
“They were lying closely,” she told me, “in the deeper mud. We were
walking on, or slipping between them for some time before I knew they
were living.
“It was only as one of them waked to consciousness of us, and began to
roll over, that I became aware of that on which we were walking.
“I knew that he had already decided to spill us in the mud, so that he
should reach us the more easily, and that if the others should combine
against us we should be helpless. They are the Dwellers’ creatures, not
of the sea, and for a moment I almost had the doubt which would have
destroyed us. But I think I have not ruled the monsters that the oceans
hold for so long, to lose my body at last in such talons. Also, you did
well.
“A javelin, such as this, is a cunning weapon, and I had joy when I used
it, but I think that our ways of peace are greater than those which you
are designed to practise.
“You see the monster that still has his tusk hooked on to that
projecting root, to steady him while he slept in the shallow? It was in
the edge of his eye-socket that your foot caught when you stumbled.”
CHAPTER III
THE PERIL OF THE LAKE
We watched for some minutes while the giant leviathans lazily moved
themselves from the mud-shallows to the deeper water. They seemed
half-asleep, and very slow, and somewhat clumsy, as they did so, with no
life in the flat unlustred eyes, and a thought crossed me as to whether
they were really as formidable as my companion had supposed them, when I
noticed that one of them, who had moved out a short distance, had sunk
his head, and raised his tail, as a duck does when he feeds under water.
Suddenly his tail waggled in an uncontrolled excitement, and in an
instant a dozen of these huge creatures had flung themselves at the
spot.
Those that were already in the deeper water drove like huge torpedoes
toward it.
Those that were still in the shallows propelled themselves at almost
equal speed with huge claw-grips and flapping tails through mud and
water.
So great was the converging rush that the spot at which they aimed was
splashed bare for an instant, and we saw that tusks and claws were
tearing up the muddy bottom in chase of something that was burrowing
deeply to avoid them. The next moment something of a dirty-white colour,
and of the size of a small cow--but we could not see clearly--was
dragged out and torn to pieces.
Then with contented grunts, and a switching of great tails, they swam
out phalanx shape into the deep water, where they dived together, and
the still lake gave no sign of their presence.
It was after this that my companion closed her mind from me, as she
would do when a doubt came which she could not quickly answer.
At last she told me, “It is in my mind that we have done wrongly to come
this way. The morning is here, and we have not reached the forest which
should be our immediate safety. Between us and it the swamp is extending
far on the left, and the lake for many miles on the right. If we try to
go round on either hand, I have little doubt that we shall be observed
from the heights behind us, where the Dwellers will be patrolling.
“If we hide through the day, we shall have a long way to go over the low
land, which we have proved to be an evil path in the darkness, and to
cross the hills beyond may be still more difficult. Beside that, the
delay is misfortunate, for we should not arrive at the tunnel-entrance
at the beginning of the night, as we had planned to do.”
I replied, “Can we not swim the lake?” and surprised a thought of relief
and wonder in the mind that heard me.
She answered, “I could, of course, do so very easily. I should swim
under the water, and land beneath the cover of the trees upon the
farther bank. But I supposed that you could only swim on the surface, if
at all, and that in any case the distance would be beyond your power.”
The answer annoyed me, for her contempt of my physical capacity was
always hurtful, friendly and entirely reasonable though I knew it to be,
and I had always accounted myself an accomplished swimmer.
I said, “I have swum longer distances. I can swim under water for a
short time, if necessary; but one of us swimming on the surface will be
far less conspicuous than two walking on the bank, and we shall be out
of sight very much sooner. Beside that, if we are seen and chased, we
shall have a far better opportunity of escaping.”
I do not think my reply quite satisfied her. I saw that she thought I
was illustrating the habit of collecting all the available arguments for
a course that I had pre-chosen, of which she had already accused me, but
after a moment she answered equably, “It is far best, if you are sure
that you can do it; and for myself it is far pleasanter. If we are going
that way, it is foolish to stand here longer, where we may be observed
easily.
“But can you swim in those rags, or will you not at last discard them?”
I think that most people would have hesitated, as I did. I could not
swim such a distance encumbered by the clothes I was wearing. I could
make them into a bundle in such a way that they would not impede me too
greatly. All my instincts were against their abandonment. There were
still a few things in the pockets which I greatly valued--my
clasp-knife,--some matches--some cord--a note book (but I had made no
use of this, so far)--some small scissors--a razor, and a quantity of
spare blades. But I knew that the rags I wore in this new world exposed
me to the contempt of every eye that beheld them. To be modest is to be
inconspicuous. It is to follow the mode. By that test my present clothes
reached the last extreme of indecency.
I had no means of stitching them further, and the rough usage they had
received had already caused such damage that they would dispense with
me, if I did not dispense with them very promptly.
I considered temperature, but the sun was already gaining power, and I
knew how warm it became on the lower levels in the daytime.
Under the surface I knew that I had found the tunnel to be of a
comfortable warmth.
I took off my boots, and knew that the operation was final. A sole
already tied with string on the previous day, was now entirely loose.
The other was scarcely better. The uppers were leaving me by successive
details. My socks--what was left of them--were clotted with dirt and
blood.
My companion watched the gradual revelation with amused and lively eyes,
but she hid her thoughts from me as it proceeded.
In the end, public opinion was too strong for me. All my life I had made
myself grotesque in the ugliest garments by which the human form can be
hidden, because my fellow-men required it.
Here I was conscious of a different verdict, and the slave crouched
instinctively to the crack of a new whip. On a sudden impulse, I
resolved to leave them.
I wrapped my small possessions in my waistcoat, which was still a fairly
sound garment. I tied it securely. Then I threaded a piece of cord
through the button-holes, which I fastened round my waist, so that the
little parcel could be easily carried behind me.
I made of the boots and other garments a bundle which I resolved to sink
in the lake, so that there should be no sign left of our presence, and
we dived into the water together.
The lake was smooth, and the water was not too cold to be pleasant. It
became clear and very deep as we left the bank behind us. I swam
strongly at first, rejoicing in the morning freshness of sun and air and
water, and buoyed by the exhilaration of my companion’s mind. But a time
came when I looked with doubt at the distance of the wooded headland
which we had agreed to make our objective. The shore was far off, but
yet I seemed to have made no progress to the one before us.
My comrade swam beneath, but not closely. In the delight of her
recovered element she dived and rose, and swam beneath and round me,
with a speed and ease that did nothing to encourage me to satisfaction
with my clumsier efforts.
I had a strong desire to call on her for the vitality of which I was
learning to rely too absolutely, but against this I fought with a
stubborn wish to show her that I was not entirely incapable, even in an
unfamiliar element.
For a moment she stayed quietly beside me, sliding through the water at
the same pace as myself, but without apparent effort, while she rose
sufficiently to view the scene around her.
“Look back,” she suggested suddenly, and I changed a stroke which was
becoming wearier than I was willing to recognise, so that I might turn
my eyes to the distant heights behind us.
I searched them, but could see nothing of a new interest. Once I thought
that there was a flicker of flame on the hillside, but it was too minute
and far off for any certainty, and the next moment I had lost it
entirely.