The Day of Resis

by Lillian Frances Mentor

Our friends might have turned and faced the natives but they were still a great number of them following, and the capture of the strangers would have been certain if they had tried to fight it out. Their treatment at the hands of these natives had been such that they might expect nothing else but death if they were again captured, so the thought of taking any risk by fighting had not occurred to them until the last moment. There was but one way to escape these beings and that was by flight and they had been so intent on making their escape in this way, that they had forgotten for the moment the windy corridor, their former experience in this and the experience of the native of On, which their new companion had so recently related. They had rushed madly forward, caring little where the cross corridor led, so long as it enabled them to keep ahead of their pursuers. And they had dashed into the windy corridor, not giving it a thought and were now being blown through this at break neck speed.

It would be impossible for human being to stand alone in this gale, and in an instant the men were thrown violently forward and were now rolling over and over unable to stop themselves. Onrai, although he carried the wounded native, was the first in the tunnel and was now some feet ahead of his companions, but was being borne on just as fast as the others. The native had fallen behind him and his wounded body was suffering fearful tortures in this violent exercise; each time the wounded side would strike the rock a cry of pain would escape him. Mr. Bruce was right back of the native, and after a while managed to call to Onrai to work himself toward the wall, if possible, and get head on to the wind and thus offer less resistance to the awful gale. Onrai immediately began edging his way toward the wall and would have succeeded in doing this if the native had not struck him full force on the side, thus starting him rolling again. But Onrai had caught the native and had clung fast to him and they were not moved nearly so rapidly, being together. As a consequence Mr. Bruce, Mr. Graham and Harry came bowling along and bumped into them, and as they did this the men grabbed each other, and held on, and in this way they were all joined and the wind could no longer move them.

“Now,” said Mr. Bruce, “let us get into position and try to regain our feet, and in single file, as we did upon our first entering this corridor, try to resist its awful power.”

They worked around until one was immediately behind the other, and at a given signal, first rose to one knee and then to both knees, and in this way continued until they were standing on their feet. The poor native asked them to leave him in the corridor to die, but they would not hear of this, and Onrai again threw him over his shoulder, when they were ready to move. They started, leaning well back so to offer greater resistance to the wind, but it was hard work tramping along in this darkness, frequently hitting up against the walls, and bruising their already sore bodies. And then the uncertainty of where the tunnel would finally land them, was making things all the more unpleasant. They could not possibly guess where this would lead them; they had had some experience in the tunnel before, and had heard more about it from the native, but all this had told them nothing. They knew that this gale of wind must have an outlet some place, but what sort of place was this? Would it be a shaft leading to the surface as did the shaft which seemed to be its source? Would it take them back to the great cavern, or to the center of the earth, or where? The thought was maddening, but they could do nothing but go with it, wherever it might lead them.

They had gone on in this way for miles, they thought, and their bodies were bruised and exhausted; still there was no way to stop and rest even for a moment; they would have to keep up the awful rush until too exhausted to longer keep their feet, they would drop and be blown—where? To death, surely. Onrai, who was still carrying the native, tried hard to keep up, but he was fast giving out, and our friends knew that when he should do so, their mainstay was gone, and hope might be abandoned. Onrai suddenly stumbled, and would have fallen had not Mr. Bruce, who was next to him, held fast, thus saving him and may be the others.

“What is wrong, Onrai,” asked Mr. Bruce.

“It was something on the floor,” said Onrai. He had hardly said this when he stumbled again, and this time Mr. Bruce lost his hold, and Onrai went down bearing the native with him. The others threw themselves back, and managed to save themselves from falling.

“Can you get up, Onrai?” asked Mr. Bruce.

“I will try in a moment,” said Onrai. “But can you take the native?”

The others now held on to Mr. Bruce, and he stooped and raised the native.