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moment seemed an age to the rescued stranger. Then the professor slowed his
ship, looking around in order to determine upon the wisest route to take.
For one thing, it would be severe work to draw the stranger bodily up and into
the aerostat. For another, unless he should grow weak, or suffer from
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vertigo, both time and labour would be saved by taking him direct to the shore
of this broad lake.
As soon as the rope was made fast, and the strain taken off their muscles as
well as their minds, Bruno flashed a look around, naturally turning his eyes
in the direction of the whirlpool.
Although less than a couple of minutes had elapsed since the man was lifted
off the circling drift, even thus quickly had the end drawn nigh; for, even as
he looked that way, Gillespie saw the great trunk sucked into the hidden sink,
the top rising with a shiver clear out of the water as the butt lowered, a
hollow, rumbling sound coming to all ears as --
"Gone!" cried Bruno, in awed tones, as the whole drift vanished from sight for
ever.
"Sucked in by Jonah's whale, for ducats!" screamed Waldo, excitedly. "Fetch on
your blessed `sour-us'
of both the male and female sect! Trot 'em to the fore, and if my little old
suck don't take the starch out of their backbones, -- they did have backbones,
didn't they, uncle Phaeton?"
Professor Featherwit frowned, and shook his head in silent reproof. More
nearly, perhaps, than either of the boys, he realised what an awful peril this
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stranger had so narrowly escaped. It was far too early to turn that escape
into jest, even for one naturally light of heart.
He leaned over the hand-rail, peering downward. He could see the rescued man
sitting firmly in the
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The Lost City bend of the grapnel, one hand tightly gripping the rope, its
mate shading his eyes, as he stared fixedly towards the whirling death-pool,
from whose jaws he had so miraculously been plucked.
There was naught of debility, either of body or of mind, to be read in that
figure, and with his fears on that particular point set at rest, for the time
being, Professor Featherwit called out, distinctly:
"Is it all well with you, my good friend? Can you hold fast until the shore is
reached, think?"
"Heaven bless you, -- yes!" came the reply, in half-choked tones. "If I fail
in giving thanks -- "
"Never mention it, friend; it cost us nothing," cheerily interrupted the
professor, then adding, "Hold fast, please, and we'll put on a wee bit more
steam."
The flying-machine was now fairly headed for a strip of shore which offered an
excellent opportunity for making a safe landing, and as that accelerated
motion did not appear to materially affect the stranger, it took but a few
minutes to clear the lake.
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"Stand ready to let go when we come low enough, please," warned the professor,
deftly managing his pet machine for that purpose.
The stranger easily landed, then watched the flying-machine with painfully
eager gaze, hands clasped almost as though in prayer. A more remarkable sight
than this half-naked shape, burned brown by the sun, poorly protected by light
skins, with sinew fastenings, could scarcely be imagined; and there was
something close akin to tears in more eyes than one when he came running in
chase, arms outstretched, and voice wildly appealing:
"Oh, come back! Take me, -- don't leave me, -- for love of God and humanity,
don't leave me to this living death!"
Professor Featherwit called back a hasty assurance, and brought the air-ship
to a landing with greater haste than was exactly prudent, all things
considered; but who could keep cool blood and unmoved heart, with yonder
piteous object before their eyes?
When he saw that the flying-machine had fairly landed, and beheld its inmates
stepping forth upon the sands with friendly salutations, the rescued stranger
staggered, hands clasping his temples for a moment of drunken reeling, then he
fell
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The Lost City
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forward like one smitten by the hand of sudden death.
Professor Featherwit called out a few curt directions, which were promptly
obeyed by his nephews, and after a few minutes' well-directed work
consciousness was restored, and the stranger feebly strove to give them
thanks.
In vain these were set aside. He seemed like one half-insane from joy, and
none who saw and heard could think that all this emotion arose from the simple
rescue from the whirlpool. Nor did it.
Wildly, far from coherently, the poor fellow spoke, yet something of the awful
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truth was to be gleaned even from those broken, disjointed sentences.
For ten years an exile in these horrible wilds. For ten years not a single
glimpse of white face or figure.
For ten ages no intelligible voice, save his own; and that, through long
disuse, had threatened to desert him!
"Ten years!" echoed Waldo, in amazement. "Why didn't you rack out o' this,
then? I know I would;
even if the woods were full of -- `sour-us' and the like o' that! Yes, sir!
"
A low, husky laugh came through those heavily bearded lips, and the stranger
flung out his hands in a sweeping gesture, sunken eyes glowing with
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an almost savage light as he spoke with more coherence:
"Why is it, young gentleman? Why did I not leave, do you ask? Look! All about
you it stretches: a cell, -- a death-cell, from which escape is impossible!
Here I have fought for what is ever more precious than bare life: for liberty;
but though ten awful years have rolled by, here I remain, in worse than
prison!
Escape? Ah, how often have I attempted to escape, only to fail, because escape
from these wilds is beyond the power of any person not gifted with wings!"
"Ten years, you say, good friend? And all that time you have lived here
alone?" asked the professor, curiously.
"Ten years, -- ten thousand years, I could almost swear, only for keeping the
record so carefully, so religiously. And -- pitiful Lord! How gladly would I
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