CHAPTER II

Pellicudar

by Edgar R. Burroughs

CHAPTER II, PELLICUDAR by Edgar R. Burroughs
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TRAVELING WITH TERROR

We made camp there beside the peaceful river. There
Perry told me all that had befallen him since I had
departed for the outer crust.

It seemed that Hooja had made it appear that I
had intentionally left Dian behind, and that I did not
purpose ever returning to Pellucidar. He told them
that I was of another world and that I had tired of
this and of its inhabitants.

To Dian he had explained that I had a mate in the
world to which I was returning; that I had never
intended taking Dian the Beautiful back with me; and
that she had seen the last of me.

Shortly afterward Dian had disappeared from the
camp, nor had Perry seen or heard aught of her since.

He had no conception of the time that had elapsed
since I had departed, but guessed that many years had
dragged their slow way into the past.

Hooja, too, had disappeared very soon after Dian
had left. The Sarians, under Ghak the Hairy One, and
the Amozites under Dacor the Strong One, Dian's
brother, had fallen out over my supposed defection,
for Ghak would not believe that I had thus treacher-
ously deceived and deserted them.

The result had been that these two powerful tribes
had fallen upon one another with the new weapons
that Perry and I had taught them to make and to use.
Other tribes of the new federation took sides with the
original disputants or set up petty revolutions of their
own.

The result was the total demolition of the work we
had so well started.

Taking advantage of the tribal war, the Mahars had
gathered their Sagoths in force and fallen upon one
tribe after another in rapid succession, wreaking awful
havoc among them and reducing them for the most
part to as pitiable a state of terror as that from which
we had raised them.

Alone of all the once-mighty federation the Sarians
and the Amozites with a few other tribes continued
to maintain their defiance of the Mahars; but these
tribes were still divided among themselves, nor had it
seemed at all probable to Perry when he had last been
among them that any attempt at re-amalgamation
would be made.

"And thus, your majesty," he concluded, "has faded
back into the oblivion of the Stone Age our wondrous
dream and with it has gone the First Empire of Pel-
lucidar."

We both had to smile at the use of my royal title,
yet I was indeed still "Emperor of Pellucidar," and
some day I meant to rebuild what the vile act of the
treacherous Hooja had torn down.

But first I would find my empress. To me she was
worth forty empires.

"Have you no clue as to the whereabouts of Dian?"
I asked.

"None whatever," replied Perry. "It was in search of
her that I came to the pretty pass in which you dis-
covered me, and from which, David, you saved me.

"I knew perfectly well that you had not intentionally
deserted either Dian or Pellucidar. I guessed that in
some way Hooja the Sly One was at the bottom of
the matter, and I determined to go to Amoz, where
I guessed that Dian might come to the protection of
her brother, and do my utmost to convince her, and
through her Dacor the Strong One, that we had all
been victims of a treacherous plot to which you were
no party.

"I came to Amoz after a most trying and terrible
journey, only to find that Dian was not among her
brother's people and that they knew naught of her
whereabouts.

"Dacor, I am sure, wanted to be fair and just, but
so great were his grief and anger over the disap-
pearance of his sister that he could not listen to reason,
but kept repeating time and again that only your return
to Pellucidar could prove the honesty of your intentions.

"Then came a stranger from another tribe, sent I am
sure at the instigation of Hooja. He so turned the
Amozites against me that I was forced to flee their
country to escape assassination.

"In attempting to return to Sari I became lost, and
then the Sagoths discovered me. For a long time I
eluded them, hiding in caves and wading in rivers to
throw them off my trail.

"I lived on nuts and fruits and the edible roots that
chance threw in my way.

"I traveled on and on, in what directions I could not
even guess; and at last I could elude them no longer
and the end came as I had long foreseen that it would
come, except that I had not foreseen that you would
be there to save me."

We rested in our camp until Perry had regained
sufficient strength to travel again. We planned much,
rebuilding all our shattered air-castles; but above all we
planned most to find Dian.

I could not believe that she was dead, yet where
she might be in this savage world, and under what
frightful conditions she might be living, I could not
guess.

When Perry was rested we returned to the prospector,
where he fitted himself out fully like a civilized human
being--under-clothing, socks, shoes, khaki jacket and
breeches and good, substantial puttees.

When I had come upon him he was clothed in rough
sadak sandals, a gee-string and a tunic fashioned from
the shaggy hide of a thag. Now he wore real clothing
again for the first time since the ape-folk had stripped
us of our apparel that long-gone day that had witnessed
our advent within Pellucidar.

With a bandoleer of cartridges across his shoulder,
two six-shooters at his hips, and a rifle in his hand
he was a much rejuvenated Perry.

Indeed he was quite a different person altogether
from the rather shaky old man who had entered the
prospector with me ten or eleven years before, for the
trial trip that had plunged us into such wondrous ad-
ventures and into such a strange and hitherto un-
dreamed-of-world.

Now he was straight and active. His muscles, almost
atrophied from disuse in his former life, had filled out.

He was still an old man of course, but instead of
appearing ten years older than he really was, as he
had when we left the outer world, he now appeared
about ten years younger. The wild, free life of Pel-
lucidar had worked wonders for him.

Well, it must need have done so or killed him, for
a man of Perry's former physical condition could not
long have survived the dangers and rigors of the primi-
tive life of the inner world.

Perry had been greatly interested in my map and
in the "royal observatory" at Greenwich. By use of the
pedometers we had retraced our way to the prospector
with ease and accuracy.

Now that we were ready to set out again we decided
to follow a different route on the chance that it might
lead us into more familiar territory.

I shall not weary you with a repetition of the count-
less adventures of our long search. Encounters with
wild beasts of gigantic size were of almost daily occur-
rence; but with our deadly express rifles we ran com-
paratively little risk when one recalls that previously
we had both traversed this world of frightful dangers
inadequately armed with crude, primitive weapons and
all but naked.

We ate and slept many times--so many that we
lost count--and so I do not know how long we
roamed, though our map shows the distances and direc-
tions quite accurately. We must have covered a great
many thousand square miles of territory, and yet we
had seen nothing in the way of a familiar landmark,
when from the heights of a mountain-range we were
crossing I descried far in the distance great masses of
billowing clouds.

Now clouds are practically unknown in the skies of
Pellucidar. The moment that my eyes rested upon
them my heart leaped. I seized Perry's arm and, point-
ing toward the horizonless distance, shouted:

"The Mountains of the Clouds!"

"They lie close to Phutra, and the country of our
worst enemies, the Mahars," Perry remonstrated.

"I know it," I replied, "but they give us a starting-point
from which to prosecute our search intelligently. They
are at least a familiar landmark.

"They tell us that we are upon the right trail and not
wandering far in the wrong direction.

"Furthermore, close to the Mountains of the Clouds
dwells a good friend, Ja the Mezop. You did not know
him, but you know all that he did for me and all that he
will gladly do to aid me.

"At least he can direct us upon the right direction
toward Sari."

"The Mountains of the Clouds constitute a mighty
range," replied Perry. "They must cover an enormous
territory. How are you to find your friend in all the great
country that is visible from their rugged flanks?"

"Easily," I answered him, "for Ja gave me minute di-
rections. I recall almost his exact words:

"'You need merely come to the foot of the highest
peak of the Mountains of the Clouds. There you will find
a river that flows into the Lural Az.

"'Directly opposite the mouth of the river you will see
three large islands far out--so far that they are barely
discernible. The one to the extreme left as you face them
from the mouth of the river is Anoroc, where I rule the
tribe of Anoroc.'"

And so we hastened onward toward the great cloud-
mass that was to be our guide for several weary marches.
At last we came close to the towering crags, Alp-like in
their grandeur.

Rising nobly among its noble fellows, one stupendous
peak reared its giant head thousands of feet above the
others. It was he whom we sought; but at its foot no
river wound down toward any sea.

"It must rise from the opposite side," suggested Perry,
casting a rueful glance at the forbidding heights that
barred our further progress. "We cannot endure the
arctic cold of those high flung passes, and to traverse the
endless miles about this interminable range might re-
quire a year or more. The land we seek must lie upon
the opposite side of the mountains."

"Then we must cross them," I insisted.

Perry shrugged.

"We can't do it, David," he repeated, "We are dressed
for the tropics. We should freeze to death among the
snows and glaciers long before we had discovered a pass
to the opposite side."

"We must cross them," I reiterated. "We will cross
them."

I had a plan, and that plan we carried out. It took
some time.

First we made a permanent camp part way up the
slopes where there was good water. Then we set out in
search of the great, shaggy cave bear of the higher
altitudes.

He is a mighty animal--a terrible animal. He is but
little larger than his cousin of the lesser, lower hills; but
he makes up for it in the awfulness of his ferocity and
in the length and thickness of his shaggy coat. It was his
coat that we were after.

We came upon him quite unexpectedly. I was trudg-
ing in advance along a rocky trail worn smooth by the
padded feet of countless ages of wild beasts. At a shoul-
der of the mountain around which the path ran I came
face to face with the Titan.

I was going up for a fur coat. He was coming down
for breakfast. Each realized that here was the very thing
he sought.

With a horrid roar the beast charged me.

At my right the cliff rose straight upward for thou-
sands of feet.

At my left it dropped into a dim, abysmal canon.

In front of me was the bear.

Behind me was Perry.

I shouted to him in warning, and then I raised my
rifle and fired into the broad breast of the creature.
There was no time to take aim; the thing was too close
upon me.

But that my bullet took effect was evident from the
howl of rage and pain that broke from the frothing
jowls. It didn't stop him, though.

I fired again, and then he was upon me. Down I went
beneath his ton of maddened, clawing flesh and bone
and sinew.

I thought my time had come. I remember feeling
sorry for poor old Perry, left all alone in this inhos-
pitable, savage world.

And then of a sudden I realized that the bear was
gone and that I was quite unharmed. I leaped to my
feet, my rifle still clutched in my hand, and looked
about for my antagonist.

I thought that I should find him farther down the trail,
probably finishing Perry, and so I leaped in the direction
I supposed him to be, to find Perry perched upon a pro-
jecting rock several feet above the trail. My cry of warn-
ing had given him time to reach this point of safety.

There he squatted, his eyes wide and his mouth ajar,
the picture of abject terror and consternation.

"Where is he?" he cried when he saw me. "Where is
he?"

"Didn't he come this way?" I asked,

"Nothing came this way," replied the old man. "But I
heard his roars--he must have been as large as an
elephant."

"He was," I admitted; "but where in the world do you
suppose he disappeared to?"

Then came a possible explanation to my mind. I re-
turned to the point at which the bear had hurled me
down and peered over the edge of the cliff into the
abyss below.

Far, far down I saw a small brown blotch near the
bottom of the canon. It was the bear.

My second shot must have killed him, and so his
dead body, after hurling me to the path, had toppled
over into the abyss. I shivered at the thought of how
close I, too, must have been to going over with him.

It took us a long time to reach the carcass, and arduous
labor to remove the great pelt. But at last the thing was
accomplished, and we returned to camp dragging the
heavy trophy behind us.

Here we devoted another considerable period to
scraping and curing it. When this was done to our
satisfaction we made heavy boots, trousers, and coats
of the shaggy skin, turning the fur in.

From the scraps we fashioned caps that came down
around our ears, with flaps that fell about our shoulders
and breasts. We were now fairly well equipped for our
search for a pass to the opposite side of the Mountains
of the Clouds.

Our first step now was to move our camp upward to
the very edge of the perpetual snows which cap this
lofty range. Here we built a snug, secure little hut,
which we provisioned and stored with fuel for its di-
minutive fireplace.

With our hut as a base we sallied forth in search of a
pass across the range.

Our every move was carefully noted upon our maps
which we now kept in duplicate. By this means we were
saved tedious and unnecessary retracing of ways already
explored.

Systematically we worked upward in both directions
from our base, and when we had at last discovered what
seemed might prove a feasible pass we moved our be-
longings to a new hut farther up.

It was hard work--cold, bitter, cruel work. Not a step
did we take in advance but the grim reaper strode
silently in our tracks.

There were the great cave bears in the timber, and
gaunt, lean wolves--huge creatures twice the size of
our Canadian timber-wolves. Farther up we were as-
sailed by enormous white bears--hungry, devilish
fellows, who came roaring across the rough glacier tops
at the first glimpse of us, or stalked us stealthily by scent
when they had not yet seen us.

It is one of the peculiarities of life within Pellucidar
that man is more often the hunted than the hunter.
Myriad are the huge-bellied carnivora of this primitive
world. Never, from birth to death, are those great bellies
sufficiently filled, so always are their mighty owners
prowling about in search of meat.

Terribly armed for battle as they are, man presents
to them in his primal state an easy prey, slow of foot,
puny of strength, ill-equipped by nature with natural
weapons of defense.

The bears looked upon us as easy meat. Only our
heavy rifles saved us from prompt extinction. Poor Perry
never was a raging lion at heart, and I am convinced
that the terrors of that awful period must have caused
him poignant mental anguish.

When we were abroad pushing our trail farther and
farther toward the distant break which, we assumed,
marked a feasible way across the range, we never knew
at what second some great engine of clawed and fanged
destruction might rush upon us from behind, or lie in
wait for us beyond an ice-hummock or a jutting shoulder
of the craggy steeps.

The roar of our rifles was constantly shattering the
world-old silence of stupendous canons upon which the
eye of man had never before gazed. And when in the
comparative safety of our hut we lay down to sleep the
great beasts roared and fought without the walls, clawed
and battered at the door, or rushed their colossal frames
headlong against the hut's sides until it rocked and
trembled to the impact.

Yes, it was a gay life.

Perry had got to taking stock of our ammunition each
time we returned to the hut. It became something of an
obsession with him.

He'd count our cartridges one by one and then try to
figure how long it would be before the last was ex-
pended and we must either remain in the hut until we
starved to death or venture forth, empty, to fill the belly
of some hungry bear.

I must admit that I, too, felt worried, for our progress
was indeed snail-like, and our ammunition could not
last forever. In discussing the problem, finally we came
to the decision to burn our bridges behind us and make
one last supreme effort to cross the divide.

It would mean that we must go without sleep for a
long period, and with the further chance that when the
time came that sleep could no longer be denied we
might still be high in the frozen regions of perpetual
snow and ice, where sleep would mean certain death,
exposed as we would be to the attacks of wild beasts
and without shelter from the hideous cold.

But we decided that we must take these chances and
so at last we set forth from our hut for the last time,
carrying such necessities as we felt we could least afford
to do without. The bears seemed unusually troublesome
and determined that time, and as we clambered slowly
upward beyond the highest point to which we had
previously attained, the cold became infinitely more
intense.

Presently, with two great bears dogging our footsteps
we entered a dense fog,

We had reached the heights that are so often cloud-
wrapped for long periods. We could see nothing a few
paces beyond our noses.

We dared not turn back into the teeth of the bears
which we could hear grunting behind us. To meet them
in this bewildering fog would have been to court instant
death.

Perry was almost overcome by the hopelessness of
our situation. He flopped down on his knees and began
to pray.

It was the first time I had heard him at his old habit
since my return to Pellucidar, and I had thought that
he had given up his little idiosyncrasy; but he hadn't.
Far from it.

I let him pray for a short time undisturbed, and then
as I was about to suggest that we had better be pushing
along one of the bears in our rear let out a roar that
made the earth fairly tremble beneath our feet.

It brought Perry to his feet as if he had been stung by
a wasp, and sent him racing ahead through the blind-
ing fog at a gait that I knew must soon end in disaster
were it not checked.

Crevasses in the glacier-ice were far too frequent to
permit of reckless speed even in a clear atmosphere,
and then there were hideous precipices along the
edges of which our way often led us. I shivered as I
thought of the poor old fellow's peril.

At the top of my lungs I called to him to stop, but he
did not answer me. And then I hurried on in the di-
rection he had gone, faster by far than safety dictated.

For a while I thought I heard him ahead of me, but
at last, though I paused often to listen and to call to
him, I heard nothing more, not even the grunting of
the bears that had been behind us. All was deathly
silence--the silence of the tomb. About me lay the thick,
impenetrable fog.

I was alone. Perry was gone--gone forever, I had not
the slightest doubt.

Somewhere near by lay the mouth of a treacherous
fissure, and far down at its icy bottom lay all that was
mortal of my old friend, Abner Perry. There would his
body he preserved in its icy sepulcher for countless ages,
until on some far distant day the slow-moving river of
ice had wound its snail-like way down to the warmer
level, there to disgorge its grisly evidence of grim
tragedy, and what in that far future age, might mean
baffling mystery.