Suddenly an awful crash sounded, followed by the beating of drums and the clashing of cymbals and away in the distance he saw a procession of purple folk passing rapidly, all in the same direction. Cloaks of the same purple hue fell from their shoulders, and the women wore veils on their heads. He watched them with interest. The figures passed in quick succession, then they became less and less frequent, until only one or two stragglers came hurrying up. The sound of singing rose on the air, and Alan conjectured that it must be some religious service to which they all were bent. After the last one had disappeared Alan waited some minutes to see if any more would pass, but as no one else came he walked slowly in the direction from which the multitude had appeared.
In a very short space of time he found himself in a street. Peculiar huts lined either side of it, huts with their doors open wide and no sign of life. He looked about him carefully, and ventured inside one. He found it was divided into three rooms—all on the ground floor. There was a sleeping room, for mattresses of that same purple moss, dried, were on the floor; there was also a living room and a kitchen. Warily he looked about him, and then went out into the street. The main street merged into smaller ones and at last, at the very end, a large building rose upon the scene—larger and more impressive than any of the others he had passed on his way. All this time he had seen no sign of life—the inhabitants were content to rest secure in their belief of inviolability.
Cautiously Alan crept toward the building and as he came close to it, he saw that a sentry had been left on guard—a sentry with an evil-looking knife slung across his shoulders, and a scimitar-like instrument in his hand. The man was looking away into the distance and did not hear Alan’s approach. “Hullo,” said Alan pleasantly. The effect was magical. The undersized creature swung round and faced the strange, white man. For an instant he remained quite still, and then, with a sudden movement that Alan was unprepared for, sprang at him, and commenced to beat his horn in Alan’s face. In vain the white man tried to free himself from the savage grip; he was no match for this strange creature of the underworld. His adversary made no sound as he gradually weakened Alan, and at length he swung him over his shoulder as if he had been a child, and marched with him at a quick pace down the street.
The shock, the strenuous time Alan had been through, took his senses away, and when he came to, he found he was lying on a soft mattress and there was a stabbing pain in his arm. A fantastic figure was bending over him, a figure that licked its lips cruelly as it surveyed its victim, and Alan realized at once that he was in an enemy’s hand.
The figure spoke to him, but Alan was unable to understand the jargon it uttered. Suddenly it issued a command, and four men, clad in a kind of armour, came up to Alan, and lifting him up carried him once more out of the place into the street. Outside they placed him on a litter, drawn by four men, and at a fast trot dragged him through the streets. The air grew hotter and hotter, until Alan felt choked; at last, however, they came to their journey’s end, and Alan was rudely hauled out of the litter, and found himself standing outside high gates. They were very massive, of a gold colour, and heavily barred on the inner side. One of his captors struck a gong affixed to the wall, and in answer to its strident tones, two women, heavily veiled, came running toward them and unfastened the locks. Alan was almost too weak to walk, but was pushed along a passage until he found himself in a place so vast, so wonderful, so awful, that it left him breathless and trembling.
It was a huge temple into which he had been brought—so vast that he was unable to see the further end of it. An enormous high altar stood near him, and at intervals were smaller ones all round the walls. Statues and images, both grotesque and beautiful, ornamented the place, and the atmosphere reeked with a pungent incense that was sickly and overpowering. But it was not only the vastness and weirdness that left Alan breathless—it was a wonder more terrible, more awe-inspiring than his mind had ever conceived.
The whole of the centre of the temple was composed of a fire—a fire that ran down the length of the elliptically shaped building, and disappeared in the distance in a red glow. A glass-like wall rose to perhaps three feet above the level of the flames, and through it Alan could see into the heart of a bottomless pit of fire, whose flames of all hues danced and swerved and shimmered in a wild ecstasy. The substance of the fire he could not guess—but the fire possessed a terrifying appearance that alone was enough to break the spirit of any mortal man.
The heat was intense, yet the natives did not seem to notice it, and they led Alan to a pillar that rose near the high altar, bound him to it by a heavy chain, and then left him there, alone. He watched his captors disappear one by one. His brain was reeling. He wondered whether all he had seen was but the result of fever, and he would wake up presently to find himself in Mrs. Slater’s pretty little cottage at Marshfielden. But no, he knew he was awake and not dreaming,—and looked about him in bewilderment. That there were people living in the centre of the earth he would never have believed—yet here was the proof—for was he not a captive in their clutches?
He looked at the fire. Never before had he seen anything like it. It seemed to go deep into fathomless depths, and its flames danced and sang and crackled maliciously. He wondered whether he would be thrown into its fiery bosom by the purple folk, and shivered to think of it, but then a feeling of relief came over him. After all it would be a quick death, for nothing could live long in those hungry flames.
Immediately opposite him was the high altar. Six steps led up to it, and he looked with interest at them and at the red stains they bore; and with an uncanny laugh, asked himself whether these were blood. If so, whose? Round the walls on pedestals were huge, grotesque figures; and interposed here and there, an image of almost seraphic beauty, that contrasted strangely with the insidious cruelty and hideousness of the place.