“Then lit we fires, and smote over unresisting some of the great birds which without fear sat upon the sand, and roasted them to make a meal therefrom. As the fume of their roasting went up savorily upon the air, and all prepared to satisfy their hunger, behold one lifted up his eyes towards the land and cried aloud in awe and great terror, for thence came down towards us the god Cay himself in flesh apparent, his mouth agape as if demanding sacrifice. Then consulted we hurriedly upon the honor which had thus befallen us of the migration—shown now of a surety to be in direct favor of the god—and selecting Alfa, daughter of Halmac, as fairest, bound her for sacrifice. Her we thrust forth into the path of the god, though Hardal, to whom the maid was promised, would have stayed us. Then came Cay in his bodily shape, and did take the maid, and did eat her in token of blessing and acceptance to us his faithful people, and Hardal, seeing his bride rent and dismembered, ran forth to the feet of the god, and was himself devoured also. After which did Cay withdraw himself from our reverent and astonished eyes, and we gave thanks that he in his mercy had guided us to his own abode, though verily the land is passing savage and barren of every growing thing.
“So we hasted and collected of our stores and put them on our best ship, and have sent unto you Migdal and six of our bravest youth, that you too may come to the land which Cay himself hath deigned to bless. In witness whereof hereunto I subscribe the sign of the god, fervently desiring that to you may be given his protection until you also come to his own seat.
“Huanhac, priest of Cay, and chief
of the migration.”
I handed the paper on to Gerry without a word of comment, and then turned to Lessaution with questioning eyes. He was sitting opposite me chuckling and bubbling away in an indescribable manner. He beat his little hands together, digging at the soft earth with his restless heels while Gerry also digested this astounding rigmarole, evidently bursting with the desire to speak, but restraining himself till he could spring his fatuous surprises upon us both together. For the next five minutes he made the most hideous and unconscious faces at me, winking and smirking meaningly as he caught the emotions flitting swiftly across Gerry’s features, and finally, as the latter laid down the paper with a low whistle of astonishment and incredulity, he poured forth his abounding triumph boisterously.
“You see, my friends, you see?” he shouted. “It is as plain—but yes—as plain as the great temple behind you. You have heard, you have read of the great wall of the unknown lands of the Antarctic? You have remembered what M. Borchgrevink has told? Of the great cliff that stands up unclimbable from the ocean? There they have gone. It is there they have founded their new empire in the land that no man has discovered. It is all in one with the letter of the good Sir Dorinecourte of long ago. Where but there could it be? Where is the ice? Where else the great cliffs? We will go to them. We will discover them again. To the world we will present this ancient race, and to us will be a glory that we cannot as yet dream of. We shall be the great ones of the century. The discoverers of the peoples of yesterday. What do you say? Hein? Hein? Hein?” and he grunted like an inquiring pig.
“My dear Professor,” said I patiently, “you don’t really mean to imply that you believe that this race exists to the present day? Why, they’ve perished long ago by cold and hunger; or been eaten by their god. I must say that I think I may safely take this document to be—let us say—an allegory, written by some mendacious old priest for wicked purposes of his own. The story of the god Cay is quite sufficient to show the absurdity of it. How on earth could such a monstrous impossibility have ever walked the earth either in the Antarctic or anywhere else?”
“My friend, my friend,” he babbled, his words nearly tripping over each other in his hurry, “it is not so; I assure you of it. Let us even allow that the race is dead. But the remains of the wonderful people exist. We can go, we can dig, we can find the traces. And remember the gold. We go not for honor alone—though for me, I am French, and it is enough—but there will be the gold. Think of the very baling-vessels made of gold in the letter of the great Sir Dorinecourte. There will be wealth, and the fame—oh, the very great, magnificent fame.”
I tried to be tolerant with the enthusiastic little ass, but I will own that his credulity was altogether too much for me.
“You have not yet answered my question about the god Cay,” I replied. “How do you propose to explain that very obvious falsehood?”