The new northland

by L. P. Gratacap

But now the crux of the whole situation came to light. Two things had happened and both of these were known to Ziliah. Ziliah was splendid—the “best ever” said Spruce—“true down to her little toe bone; she turned down her own dad and turned ag’in the Government rather than see us licked. Tell you what, Alfred, I’ll take my chances with her, and—it’s good-bye to the States.”

It was this way. And to begin with, Ziliah’s father’s first name was Javan, and, because the coincidence is so extraordinary, the names of those little governors, and there were thirty of them, are worth repeating, because again—as the Professor was the first to observe—they can all be found in the first Chapter of the Book of Chronicles, in our Bible. This is the list: Riphath, Kittim, Put, Cush, Pathrusim, Lud, Hul, Joktan, Peleg, Hadad, Naphish, Jeush, Jaalam, Shammah, Shobal, Homan, Uz, Samlah, Bela, Zephi, Zyrah, Ebal, Manahath, Anah, Amram, Mibsam, Gomer, Magog, Anamim, Ludim.

I took these down carefully from Ziliah, by word of mouth, and they confirmed all we had inferred of Semitic relations but when later—much later sir, on my return to America—I made the comparison, as the Professor suggested, I was dumbfounded. But I will not stop now to elaborate reflections. My story has already lengthened beyond my expectations, and there is much to recount.

Two things had happened, I have said. Oh, by the way, Mr. Link, I might insert this here—Javan, Ziliah’s father, encouraged his daughter’s intimacy with Hopkins; he thought it would lead to something. It did. As Hopkins put it, “it was the Guy who put the eat in Beat it.”

The two things were—the theft of the tubes had been discovered, and there had been a Council held—a “pow-wow” according to Spruce, in which Javan threw a bomb into the deliberations for our destruction because he connected what he had to say at the “pow-wow” with the disappearance of the little wizard wands. A wonderful denouement was at hand. It all came about as follows:

The excursion through the pine tree shrines showed a considerable damage, and the inspectors were sure the mischief had been perpetrated by us. Our tracks were unmistakable; they found our camps, and they noted that the pillaging had been done, as it were, yesterday. Their indignation was great, but, as the detection of the outrage was actually unnoticed by the multitude, and had only come to the knowledge of the little doctors—the Sanhedrin as we had called them—and had not then been seriously considered at first, except by a few leaders—apparently the older and shrewder men, Put and Hul, Peleg, Hadad and Javan, himself, the President—it was concluded to keep still about it, and that nothing should be done until they had returned. But the outrage, as they considered it, made them rather anxious as to the state of mind of the insulted serpent and tree deities—the numina of their unseen world. Propitiation was in order, and they had taken pains to visit all the shrines, repair the mischief, attach new offerings, sing and dance and pray, and go through a snake ceremonial with the doctors as masters of the ceremony, as indeed these odd creatures were really priests to the nation.

They talked a great deal about it among themselves, but they were dreadfully bothered by Javan’s scruples as to touching us, and all because he recalled an ancient prophecy of a fall from the clouds of a beggar-like man, who would not know their language, and who would bring them a new wisdom, and who would be their King.

Now it seems this ancient prophecy was in their archives, as you might say, and action in our case was to be delayed until its exact portents or contents were ascertained. There were queer coincidences in the matter. Our descent from the top of the pine tree, albeit awkward and a little unseemly, was a good deal like a drop from the clouds. It seemed so to them. Our beggarly condition was really shamefully clear. Then we did not speak their language, and as to the new wisdom, the Professor’s harangue rather filled the bill there, and, in spite of themselves, his red hair had impressed them, as it did everybody else.

Certainly there were or might be discrepancies. There were four of us for instance; we had been in the wood some time—desecrating it too, a profanation inconceivable in a future King—a heaven-sent King! These considerations cheered them greatly, for really the little fellows did not wish to abdicate. So they mulled these things over and fixed their plans very craftily. They’d get back, ignore us, seem to forget all about us, hunt up the precious document, and, if they came to the conclusion to “do us,” as Hopkins said, the affair would be kept very secret, and—their white fingers clasped the ominous tubes as they raised them significantly over their big heads—they wouldn’t be long about it either.

At the return to Radiumopolis Javan heard from Ziliah’s own lips—very soon, I suppose, after she lifted him up in her arms on the terrace steps—what a dreadful state her heart was in over Spooce, and Javan (“perfidious dad,” Hopkins called him) simpered, sniggered, and encouraged her attachment. But Ziliah possessed some feminine acuteness—“No piker, she,” declared Hopkins—and she was not many minutes in finding out the true position of affairs; viz., the enmity of the Directorate, the existing government, for us. She was in an agony of fear, and, aflame with her love, she had met us and told me of our danger. Then, sir, as you may incredulously recall, I did that telepathic act, and cleared away the most formidable obstacle in our way.