One of the missiles hurled from the cliff was about four feet in length, the other two. The javelin was a stout stick of wood, apparently the shoot of a tree, about an inch in diameter, and was painted a blood-red color. It was blackened at one end, as if it had been loaded with some kind of firework, on the rocket principle. Around the middle of it a strip of flexible bark was secured by a leathern string.
The dart was formed of the bone of the fore leg of an antelope, and was gilded, as if by the application of that kind of gold-leaf known to printers as “Dutch Metal.” This also had a strip of bark around it, but it was secured by a long black hair, soft and glossy, as if plucked from a woman’s head.
“Funny gim-cracks, those,” said Glyndon, as Lieutenant Gardiner unfastened the strips of bark.
“Yes; nothing very supernatural about these,” he replied. “But let us see what Smoholler has to say this time.”
He read the words upon the strip of bark taken from the javelin first:
“Begone, or fear my vengeance!”
“Good! So speaks the Fiend. Let’s hear what the Angel has to say.”
He read the second strip:
“Depart in peace, and escape the destruction that threatens you.”
Lieutenant Gardiner passed the pieces of bark to the surveyors for their inspection.