Authors: George England
Night came, and redder glowed the firelight in the gloom. They spoke
of life, of love, of destiny; and over them seemed to brood the
mystery of all that was to be.
The very purpose of the universe enwrapped itself about their passion,
and the untroubled stars kept vigils till the dawn.
Daylight called them to begin the epic campaign they had mapped
out—the rescue of a race.
After a visit to the patriarch's grave, which they decked anew with
blossoms and fresh leaves, they prepared for the journey in search of
a suitable temporary home for the Folk.
Nine o'clock found them once more on the wing. Stern laid a southerly
course along the edge of the Abyss. He and Beatrice had definitely
decided that the new home of humanity was not to be the distant
regions of the East, involving so long and perilous a journey, but
rather some location in the vast, warm, central plain of what had once
been the United States.
They judged they were now somewhere in the one-time State of Indiana,
not far from Indianapolis. So much warmer had the climate grown that
for some months to come at least the Folk could without doubt accustom
themselves to the change from the hot and muggy atmosphere of the
Abyss to the semitropic heat.
The main object now was to discover suitable caves near a good water
supply, where by night the Folk could prosecute their accustomed
fisheries. Agriculture and the care of domestic animals by daylight
would have to be postponed for some time, possibly for a year or more.
Above all, the health of the prospective colonists must be
safeguarded.
It was not until nearly nightfall of the next day, and after stops had
been made at the ruins of two considerable but unidentified towns—for
fuel, as well as to fit up an electric search-light and hooded lamps
to illuminate the instruments in the Abyss—that the explorers found
what they were seeking.
About half past five that afternoon they sighted a very considerable
river, flowing westward down a rugged and irregular valley, in the
direction of the chasm.
"This can't be the Ohio," judged Stern. "We must have long since
passed its bed, now probably dried up. I don't remember any such hilly
region as this in the old days along the Mississippi Valley. All these
formations must be the result of the cataclysm. Well, no matter, just
so we find what we're after."
"Where are we now?" she asked, peering downward anxiously. "Over what
State—can you tell?"
"Probably Tennessee or northern Alabama. See the change in vegetation?
No conifers here, but many palms and fern-trees, and new, strange
growths. Fertile isn't the name for it! Once we clear some land here,
crops will grow themselves! I don't think we'll do better than this,
Beta. Shall we land and see?"
A quarter-hour later the Pauillac had safely deposited them on a high,
rocky plateau about half a mile back from the edge of the river
canyon. Stern, in his eagerness, was all for cave-hunting that very
evening, but the girl restrained him.
"Not so impatient, dear!" she cautioned. "'Too fast arrives as tardy
as too slow!' To-morrow's time enough."
"Ruling me with quotations from Shakespeare, eh?" he laughed, with a
kiss. "All right, have your way—
Mrs.
Stern!"
She laughed, too, at this, the first time she had heard her new name.
So they made camp and postponed further labors till daylight again.
Morning found them early astir and at work. Together they traversed
the tropic-seeming woods, aflame with brilliant flowers, dank with
ferns and laced with twining lianas.
In the treetops—strange trees, fruit laden—parrakeets and flashing
green and crimson birds of paradise disturbed the little monkey-folk
that chattered at the intruders. Once a coral-red snake whipped away,
hissing, but not quick enough to dodge a ball from Stern's revolver.
Stern viewed the ugly, triangular head with apprehension. Well he knew
that venom dwelt there, but he said nothing. The one and only chance
of successfully transplanting the Folk must be to regions warm as
these. All dangers must be braved a time till they could grow
acclimated to the upper air. After that—but the vastness of the
future deterred even speculation. Perils were inevitable. The more
there were to overcome the greater the victory.
"On to the cliffs!" said he, clasping the girl's hand in his own and
making a path for her.
Thus presently they reached the edge of the canyon.
"Magnificent!" cried Beatrice as they came out on the overhang of the
rock wall. "With these fruitful woods behind, that river in front, and
these natural fortifications for our home, what more could we want?"
"Nothing except caves," Stern answered. "Let's call this New Hope
River, eh? And the cliffs?"
"Settlement Cliffs!" she exclaimed.
"Done! Well, now let's see."
For the better part of the morning they explored the face of the
palisade. Its height, they estimated, ranged from two to three hundred
feet, shelving down in rough terraces to the rocky debris through and
beyond which foamed the strong current of New Hope River, a stream
averaging about two hundred yards in width.
Up-current a broader pool gave promise of excellent fishing. It
overflowed into violent rapids, with swift, white waters noisily
cascading.
"There, incidentally," Stern remarked, with the practical perception
of the engineer, "there's power enough, when properly harnessed, to
light a city and to turn machinery ad libitum. I don't see how we
could better this site, do you?"
"Not if you think there are good chances for cave-dwellings," she made
answer.
"From what we've seen already, it looks promising. Of course, there'll
be a deal of work to do; but there are excellent possibilities here.
First rate."
Fortune seemed bent on favoring them. The limestone cliff,
fantastically eroded, offered a score of shelters, some shallow and
needing to be walled up in front, others deep and tortuous. All was in
utter confusion.
Stern saw that the terraces would have to be blasted and leveled,
roads and stairs built along the face of the rock and down to the
river, stalactites and stalagmites cut away, chambers fashioned, and a
vast deal of labor done; but the rough framework of a cliff colony
undeniably existed here. He doubted whether it would be possible to
find a more favorable site without long and tedious travels.
"I guess we'll take the apartments and sign the lease," he decided
toward noon, after they had clambered, pried, explored with improvised
torches, and penetrated far into some of the grottoes. "The main thing
to consider is that we can find darkness and humidity for the Folk by
day. They mustn't be let out at first except in the night. It may be
weeks or months before they can stand the direct sunlight. But that,
too, will come. Patience, girl—patience and time—and all will yet be
done."
Yet, even as he spoke, a strange anxiety, a prescience of tremendous
difficulties, brooded in his soul. These were not cattle that he had
to deal with, but
men
.
Could he and Beatrice, rulers of the Folk though they now were, could
they—with their paltry knowledge of the people's language,
superstitions, prejudices and inner life—really bring about this
great migration?
Could they ravish a nation from its accustomed home, transplant it
bodily, force new conditions on it, train, teach, civilize it? All
this without rebellion, anarchy and failure?
"God!" thought the engineer. "The labors of Hercules were child's play
beside this problem!"
His heart quaked at the thought of all that lay ahead; yet through
everything, deep in the basic strata of his being, he knew that all
should be and must be as he planned.
Barring death only, the seemingly impossible should come to pass.
"I swear it!" he murmured to himself. "For
her
sake, for theirs, and
for the world's, I swear it shall be!"
At high noon they emerged once more from the caverns, climbed the
steep cliff face, and again stood on the heights.
Facing northward, their gaze swept the lower river-bank opposite, and
reached away, away, over the rolling hills and plains that lay, a
virgin forest, to the dim horizon, brooding, mysterious, quivering
with fertility and wild, strange life.
"Some time," he prophesied, sweeping his arm out toward the
wilderness—"some time all
that
—and far beyond—shall be dotted
with clearings and rich farms, with cottages, schools, towns, cities.
Broad highways shall traverse it. The hum of motors, of machinery, of
industry—of life itself—shall one day displace the cry of beast and
bird.
"Some time the English tongue shall reign here again—here and beyond.
Here strong men shall toil and build and reap and rest. Here love
shall reign and women be called 'mother.' Here children shall play and
learn and grow to manhood and to womanhood, secure and free.
"Some time all good things shall here come to realization. Oppression
and slavery, alone, shall be undreamed of. These, and poverty and
pain, shall never enter into the new world that is to be.
"Some time, here, 'all shall be better than well.'
Some time!
"
He circled her with his arm, and for a while they stood surveying this
cradle of the new race. Much moved, Beatrice drew very close to him.
They made no speech.
For the dreams they two were dreaming, as the golden sun irradiated
all that vast, magnificent wilderness, passed any power of words.
Only she whispered "Some time!" too, and Allan knew she shared with
him the glory of his vast, tremendous vision!
They spent the remainder of that day and all the next in hard
work, making practical preparations for the arrival of the first
settlers. Allan assured himself the waters of New Hope River were soft
and pure and that an ample supply of fish dwelt in the pool as well as
in the rapids—trout, salmon and pike of new varieties and great size,
as well as other species.
Beatrice and he, working together, put the largest and darkest of the
caves into habitable order. They also prepared, for their own use, a
sunny grotto, which they thought could with reasonable labor be made
into a comfortable temporary home.
"Though it isn't our own cozy bungalow, and never can be," she
remarked rather mournfully, surveying the fireplace of roughly piled
stones Allan had built. "Oh, dear, if we only could have had that to
live in while—"
He stopped her yearning with a kiss.
"There, there, little girl," he cheered her, "don't be impatient. All
in good time we'll have another, garden and sun-dial and everything.
All in good time. The more we have to overcome, the more we'll
appreciate results, eh? The only really serious matter to consider now
is
you!
"
"Me, Allan? Why, what do you mean? What about me?"
He sat down on the rough-hewn bench of logs that he had fashioned and
drew her to him.
"Listen, Beta. This is very serious."
"What, Allan? Has anything happened?"
"No, and nothing must, either. That's what's troubling me now. Our
separation, I mean."
"Our—why, what—"
"Don't you see? Can't you understand? We've got to be apart a while. I
must go alone—"
"Oh, no, no, Allan! You mustn't; I can't let you!"
"You've
got
to let me, darling! The machine will only carry, at
most, three persons and a little freight. Now if you take the trip
back into the Abyss I can only bring one, just one of the Folk back
with me. And at that rate you can see for yourself how long it will
take to make even a beginning at colonization. I figure three or four
days for the round trip, at the inside. If you go we'll be all summer
and more getting even twenty-five or thirty colonists here. Whereas,
if you can manage to let me do this work alone, we'll have fifty in
the caves by October. So you see—"
"You don't want to go and leave me, Allan?"
"God forbid! Shall I abandon the whole attempt and settle down with
you here, all alone, and—"
"No, no, no! Not that, Allan!"
"I knew you'd say so. After all, the future of the race means more
than our own welfare or comfort or anything. Even our safety has got
to be risked for it. So you see—"
She thought a moment, clinging to him, somewhat pale and shaken, but
with an indefinable courage in her eyes. Then asked she:
"Wouldn't it be possible in some way—for you can do anything,
Allan—wouldn't it be possible for you to build another machine?
Surely in the ruins of some city not too far away, in Nashville,
Cincinnati, or Detroit, you could find materials! Couldn't you make
another aeroplane and teach me how to fly, so I could help you? I'd
learn, Allan! I'd dare, and be brave—awfully brave, for your sake,
and theirs, and—"
He gravely shook his head in negation.
"I know you would, dearest, but you mustn't. Half my real reason for
not wanting you to go with me is just this danger of flying. You'll be
safer here. With plenty of supplies and your pistol you'll be all
right. I know it seems heartless to talk of leaving you, even for
three days, but, after all, it's far the wisest way. We'll build a
barricade and make a regular fort for you and stock it with supplies.
Then you can wait for me and the first two settlers. And after that
you'll have company. Why, you'll have
subjects
—for, until they're
educated, we've simply got to rule these people. It'll be only the
first trip that will make you lonely, and it won't be long."
"I know; but suppose anything should happen to you!"
He laughed confidently.
"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "You know nothing ever
does
happen to me!
Everything will be all right, my best—beloved. Only a little patience
and a little courage, that's all we need now. You'll see!"