Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 199: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Mee ae The Story of William Hyde to me then, distinct upon a breathing of wind, the shouts of that mob. “Hee-ah! Hee-ah!l’’ the shouts came; and again: “‘Hee-ah! Hee-ah!” eS That was the war-cry of the Poonan which echoes through interminable distance of windless air. And it was an exultant war-cry now. It was more like the view halloo of a fox-pack when the object of the chase is sighted. And the Poonan had sighted us. That was the reason for those exultant war-cries. Standing as we were, out in that moon- drenched stretch of avenue the Poonan had sighted us! But we stood there no longer. Hand in hand, onward up that avenue, we ran and ran. We were running thus past the Elephant Stone when, of a sudden, I had an idea. “This way!” I cried sharply, and franti- _ Cally pulling Golden Feather of Flame by the hand, I drew her, stumbling and breath- ing quickly, to the foot of the left-hand stairs. But we did not mount those stairs. We went past those stairs. We went around and behind that Elephant Stone. I desired to throw the Poonan off the track. I wanted them to think we had en- tered the Elephant Cave. Burdened as I was with the Green, Green God, and as was Golden Feather of Flame with that heavy revolver and the flapping folds of her silken | robe, the Poonan were gaining considerably on us—gaining on us like a great straggling flood. But they had seen us, no doubt, _ dart from the avenue toward the Elephant Stone, and I hoped now that they would pause to search for us within the Elephant Stone. There was no waiting at that you may be sure, to determine the success of the move. © Leading Golden Feather of Flame by the hand I made quickly through a brake of slender sugar-cane which hedged the Ele- phant Stone about on the left-hand side. And Golden Feather of Flame followed where I led, blindly, unquestioningly, obe- diently. She trusted me, during that tragic time, as a child trusts some one it loves very much, At thé rear of the Elephant Stone we faced about toward the head of the crater or valley where, far above in the moon- silvered night, the nearest lava wall of the crater slanted down from the sky like a “ 197 great spill of ink. Hurriedly, hand in hand, we made, my wife and I, for that nearest lava wall. The way was now much like that round- about way we had pursued, but the night before, in. our first attempt to return the Green, Green God. It lay between the rear of the stones that faced on the Avenue of Palms and the rear of the stones that faced on the Avenue of Camphor Trees. Only this tragic time we were not headed toward the Stone Dobo, we were not trying to return the Green, Green God. We were headed now toward that sunken lava path, and that tunnel through the wall of the crater; we were trying to win to the outer world with the Green, Green God, and with our lives. From that brake of sugar-cane we clam- _ bered over a rude fence of rattans, andmade through a broad patch spiked with the tall leaves of some form of tobacco. We were moving quickly beneath the gigantic leaves of a walk of bananas, just beyond that to- bacco patch when there burst upon our ears, once again, the cries of the Poonan. High and shrill cries they were; eager, most eager cries. They were a clamor of cries, like that which goes up from a fox- pack when they run the fox to hole. I com- prehended in a vivid flash the reason for those eager cries. The mob of Poonan had reached the Ele- phant Stone. They thought they had driven us in the Elephant Stone. In that vivid flash of comprehension I almost could see them crowding up both staircases, sweeping through the entrances, lighting torches, and searching the corridor and the huge cave-chamber within. But there was no time to lose. They would soon determine that we were not at bay in that Elephant Stone; and right then would they realize that we were making a dash for the tunnel and the outside. We pressed on. We pressed on through . an area waving with jungle maize; then through a crudely-scraped field, upon the ruffled, moon-lighted surface of which tiny seeds were sparkling like dewdrops; and then through a waste overgrown, with cogon grass, taller than myself. That sunken lava path began, you reé- member, at the head of the Avenue o Palms, and ‘cut deeply through a rise of jungled ground. Well, it was after we had hurried through the waste of rustling cogon Eomichooks com.