The Lost City by Jr. Joseph E. Badger (good summer reads TXT) 📕

side, the better to manipulate his hand-camera,

with which he was taking repeated snap-shots for future

development and reference.

 

Truly, as he more than once declared, mortal man never had, nor

mortal man ever would have, such a glorious opportunity for

recording the varying phases of nature in travail as was now

vouchsafed themselves.

 

“Just think of it, lads!” he cried, almost beside himself with

enthusiasm. “This alone will be sufficient to carry our names

ringing through all time down the corridors of undying fame! This

alone would be more than enough to—Look pleasant, please!”

 

In spite of that awful vision so perilously close before them,

and the natural uncertainty which attended such a reckless

venture, Waldo could not repress a chuckle at that comical

conclusion, so frequently used towards himself when their uncle

was coaxing them to pose before his pet camera.

 

“Is it—surely this is not safe, uncle Phaeton?” ventured Bruno,

as another retrograde gust of air smote their apparently frail

conveyance with sudden force.

 

“Let’s call it a day’s work, and knock off,” chimed in Waldo. “If

the blamed thing should take a notion to balk, and rear back

on its haunches, where’d we come out at?”

 

Professor Featherwit made an impatient gesture by way of answer.

Speech just then would have been worse than useless, for that

tremendous roaring, crashing, thundering of all sounds, seemed to

fall back and envelop the air-ship as with a pall.

 

A shower of sand and fine debris poured over and around them,

filling ears and mouths, and blinding eyes for the moment,

forcing the brothers closer to the floor of the aerostat, and

even compelling the eager professor to remit his taking of notes

for future generations.

 

Then, thin and reed-like, yet serving to pierce that temporary

obscurity and horrible jangle of outer sounds, came the voice of

their relative:

 

“Fear not, my children! The Lord is our shield, and so long as

he willeth, just so long shall we—Ha! didn’t I tell ye so?”

 

For the blinding veil was torn away, and once again the trio of

adventurers might watch yonder grandly awesome march of

devastation.

 

“Heading direct for the Olympics!” declared Professor Featherwit,

digging the sand out of his eyes and striving to clean his

glasses without removing them, clinging to tiller and camera

through all. “What a grand and glorious guide ‘twould be for

us!”

 

“If we could only hitch on—like a tin can to the tail of a dog!”

suggested Waldo, with boyish sarcasm. “Not any of that in mine,

thank you! I can wait. No such mighty rush. No,—SIR!”

 

There came no answer to his words, for just then that swooping

air-demon turned to vivid fire, lightning playing back and forth,

from side to side, in every conceivable direction, until in spite

of the broad daylight its glory pained those watching eyes.

 

“Did you ever witness the like!” awesomely cried Bruno, gazing

like one fascinated. “Who could or would ever believe all that,

even if tongue were able to portray its wondrous beauty?”

 

“What a place that would be for popping corn!” contributed Waldo,

practical or nothing, even under such peculiar circumstances. “If

I had to play poppy, though, I’d want a precious long handle

to the concern!”

 

More intensely interested than ever, Professor Featherwit plied

his shutter, taking shot after shot at yonder aerial phenomena,

feeling that future generations would surely rise up to call him

blessed when the results of his experiments were once fairly

spread before the world.

 

And hence it came to pass that still more thrilling experiences

came unto these daring navigators of space, and that almost

before one or the other of them could fairly realise that greater

danger really menaced both their air-ship and their lives.

 

Another whirly-gust of sand and other debris assailed the

flying-machine, and while sight was thus rendered almost useless

for the time being, the aerostat began to sway and reel from side

to side, shivering as though caught by an irresistible power, yet

against which it battled as though instinct with life and

brain-power.

 

Once again the adventurers found it difficult to breathe, while

an unseen power seemed pressing them to that floor as

though—Thank heaven!

 

Just as before, that cloud was swept away, and again air came to

fill those painfully oppressed lungs. Once again the trio

cleared their eyes and stared about, only to utter simultaneous

cries of alarm.

 

For, brief though that period of blindness had been, ‘twas amply

sufficient to carry the aeromotor perilously near yonder

storm-centre, and though Professor Featherwit gripped hard his

tiller, trying all he knew to turn the air-ship for a safer

quarter,-‘twas all in vain!

 

“Haste,—make haste, uncle Phaeton!” hoarsely panted Bruno,

leaning to aid the professor. “We will be sucked in and—hasten,

for life!”

 

“I can’t,—we’re already—in the—suction!”

 

CHAPTER III.

RIDING THE TORNADO.

 

Whether it was that the air-ship itself had increased its speed

during those few moments of dense obscurity, or whether the madly

whirling winds had taken a retrograde movement at that precise

time, could only be a matter of conjecture; but the ominous fact

remained.

 

The aerostat was fairly over the danger-line, and, despite all

efforts being made to the contrary, was being drawn directly

towards that howling, crashing, thundering mass of destructive

energy.

 

Already the inmates felt themselves being sucked from the

flying-machine, and instinctively tightened their grip upon

hand-rail and floor, gasping and oppressed, breath failing, and

ribs apparently being crushed in by that horrible pressure.

 

“Hold fast—for life!” pantingly screamed Professor Featherwit,

as he strove in vain to check or change the course of his

aeromotor, now for the first time beyond control of that

master-hand.

 

A few seconds of soul-trying suspense, during which the

flying-machine shivered from stem to stern, almost like a human

creature in its death-agony, creaking and groaning, with shrill

sounds coming from those expanded, curved wings, as the suction

increased; then—

 

A merciful darkness fell over those sorely imperilled beings, and

the vessel itself seemed about to be overwhelmed by an avalanche

of sand and dirt and mixed debris. Then came a dizzy, rocking

lurch, followed by a shock which nearly cast uncle and nephews

from their frantic holds, and the air-ship appeared to be whirled

end for end, cast hither and yon, wrenched and twisted as though

all must go to ruin together.

 

A blast as of superheated air smote upon them one moment, while

in the next they were whirled through an icy atmosphere, then

tossed dizzily to and fro, as their too-frail vehicle spun upward

as though on a journey to the faraway stars.

 

A shrieking blast of wind served to briefly clear away the

choking dust, affording the trio a fleeting glimpse of their

immediate surroundings: hurtling sticks and stones, splintered

tops of trees, shrubs with wildly lashing roots freshly torn from

the bed of years, all madly spinning through a blinding,

scorching, freezing mass of crazily battling winds, the different

currents twining and weaving in and out, as so many hideous

serpents at play.

 

A moment thus, then that horrid uproar grew still more deafening,

and the air-ship was whirled high and higher, in a dizzy dance,

those luckless creatures clinging fast to whatever their frenzied

hands might clutch, feeling that this was the end of all.

 

Further sight was denied them. They were powerless to move a

limb, save as jerked painfully by those shrieking currents.

Breath was taken away, and an enormous weight bore down upon

them, threatening to produce a fatal collapse through their ribs

giving way.

 

Upward whirled the flying-machine, powerless now as those

wretched beings within its cunning shape, smitten sharply here

and there by some of those ascending missiles, yet without

receiving material injury; until a last shivering lurch came,

ending in a sudden fall.

 

A dizzying swoop downward, but not to death and destruction, for

the aerostat alighted easily upon what appeared to be a sort of

air-cushion, and, though unsteady for a brief space, then settled

upon an even keel.

 

“Cling fast—for life!” huskily gasped the professor, unwittingly

repeating the caution which had last crossed his lips, which he

had ever since been striving to enunciate, faithful to his

guardianship over these, his sole surviving relatives.

 

“I don’t—where are we?”

 

Waldo lifted his head to peer with half-blind eyes about them, in

which action he was imitated by both brother and uncle; but, for

a brief space, they were none the wiser.

 

All around the aeromotor rose a wall of whirling winds, seemingly

impenetrable, apparently within reach of an extended arm,

changing colour with each fraction of a second, hideously

beautiful, yet never twice the same in blend or mixture.

 

A hollow, strangely sounding roar was perceptible; one instant

coming as from the far distance, then from nigh at hand, causing

the air-ship to quiver and tremble, as a sentient being might in

the presence of a torturing death.

 

“Look—upward!” panted Bruno, a few seconds later, his face as

pale as that of a corpse, in spite of the dirt and blotches of

sticky mud with which he had been peppered during that dizzy

whirl.

 

Mechanically his companions in peril obeyed, catching breath

sharply, as they saw a clear sky and yellow sunshine far

above,—so awfully far they were, that it seemed like looking

upward from the bottom of an enormously deep well.

 

And then the marvellous truth flashed upon the brain of Phaeton

Featherwit, almost robbing him of all power of speech. Still he

managed to jerkily ejaculate:

 

“We’re inside,—riding the—tornado—itself!”

 

Then those whirling winds closed quickly above them, shutting out

the sunlight, hiding the heavens from their view, enclosing that

vehicle and its occupants, as they were borne away into unknown

regions, within the very heart of the tornado itself!

 

Yet, incredible as it surely seems, no actual harm came to the

trio or to their flying-machine as it swayed gently upon its airy

cushion, although from every side came the horrid roar of

destruction, while ever and anon they could glimpse a wrestling

tree or torn mass of shrubbery whizzing upward and outward, to be

flung far away beyond the vortex of electrical winds.

 

Once more came that awful sense of suffocation. That painted

pall closed down upon them, robbing their lungs of air, one

instant fairly crisping their hair with a touch of fire, only to

send an icy chill to their veins a moment later.

 

In vain they struggled, fighting for breath, as a fish gasps when

swung from its native element. While that horrid pressure

endured, man, youth, and boy alike were powerless.

 

Again the pall lifted, folding back and blending with those madly

circling currents, once again affording a glimpse of yonder

faraway heavens, so marvellously clear, and bright, and peaceful

in seeming!

 

Weakened by those terrible moments, Bruno and Waldo lay gasping,

trembling, faint of heart and ill of body, yet filling their

lungs with comparatively pure air,—pity there was so little of

it to win!

 

Professor Featherwit still had thought and care for his nephews

rather than himself alone, and pantingly spoke, as he dragged

himself to the snug locker, where many important articles had

been stowed away:

 

“Here—suck life—compressed air!”

 

With husky cries the brothers caught at the tubes offered, the

method of working which had so often been explained by their

relative.

 

Once more the tube became a chamber, and that horrid force

threatened to flatten their bodies; but the worst had passed, for

that precious cylinder now gave them air to inhale, and they were

enabled to wait for the lifting of the cloud once more.

 

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