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Page 104
"One long-drawn, dying shriek reached my ears.
"Of my return to the place at which I had left my bundle and
rifle I retain absolutely not one recollection. I was aroused
from a sort of stupor of horror by the sight of a faint light
moving across the platform ahead of me, as I was about to emerge
from the tunnel.
"It was the light of a lantern, carried by a man who might have
been the double of that yellow-robed mendicant who had first
unconsciously led me to this accursed place.
"I won't deny that, up to the moment of sighting him, my one idea
had been to escape, to return, to quit this unholy spot. But now,
as I watched the bearer of the lantern cross the platform and
enter one of the seven corridors, that old, unquenchable thirst
for new experiences got me by the throat again.
"As the light of the lantern was swallowed up in the passage, I
found my bundle and rifle and set out to follow the man. Four
paces brought me to the foot of more steps. I walked barefooted,
frequently pausing to listen. There were many carvings upon the
walls, but I had no leisure to examine them.
"Contrary to my anticipations, however, there were no branches in
this zigzag staircase, which communicated directly with the top
of the lofty plateau. When presently I felt the fresh mountain
air upon my face, I wondered why I could perceive no light ahead
of me. Yet the reason was simple enough.
"Since I had passed through that strange watergate to the City of
Fire, the day had ended: it was night. And when, finding no
further steps ahead of me, I passed along a level, narrow
corridor for some ten paces and, looking upward, saw the stars, I
was astounded.
"The yellow-robed man had disappeared, and I stood alone, looking
down upon that secret city which I had come so far to see.
"I found myself standing in deep undergrowth, and, pressing this
gently aside, I saw a wonderful spectacle. Away to my left was a
great white marble building, which I judged to be a temple; and
forming a crescent before it was a miniature town, each
white-walled house surrounded by a garden. It was Damascus
reduced to fairy dimensions, a spectacle quite unforgettable.
"The fact which made the whole thing awesome and unreal was the
presence, along the top of the temple (which, like that of
Hatshepsu at Deir elBahari, seemed to be hewn out of the living
rock but was faced with white marble) of seven giant flambeaux,
each surmounted by a darting tongue of blue flame!
"Legend had it that this was the temple built by Zoroaster and
preserved intact by that wonderful secretiveness of the Orient
through the generations, by a cult who awaited the coming of
Zoroaster's successor, of that Fire-Tongue who was to redeem and
revolutionize the world.
"I was afraid to move too far from the mouth of the tunnel, but
nevertheless was anxious to obtain a good view of the little city
at my feet. Gingerly I moved farther forward and forward, ever
craning out for a glimpse of the buildings more immediately below
me, forgetful of the fact that I walked upon the brink of a
precipice.
"Suddenly my outstretched foot failed to touch ground. I clutched
wildly at the bushes around me. Their roots were not firm in the
shallow soil, and, enveloped like some pagan god in a mass of
foliage, I toppled over the cliff and fell!"
CHAPTER XXXIII. STORY OF THE CITY OF FIRE (CONTINUED)
"My awakening was as strange as anything which had befallen me. I
lay upon a silken bed in a pavilion which was furnished with
exquisite, if somewhat barbaric, taste.
"A silken shaded lamp hung upon a golden chain near to my couch,
but it was dimmed by the rosy light streaming in through the open
door--a light which I believed to be that of dawn. I ached in
every limb and felt weak and ill. There was a bandage about my
head, too, but this great physical weakness numbed my curiosity,
and I just lay still, looking out through the doorway into a
lovely garden. I could form no impression of what had happened,
and the ceaseless throbbing in my head rendered any attempt to do
so very painful.
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