The Crystal Sceptre: A Story of Adventure

by Philip Verrill Mighels

All being in readiness I should have been gratified to see the fog roll away and the enemy starting up the hill in a solid phalanx. We stood on guard as an extra precaution, in case the Blacks should summon a courage sufficient to attack us under cover of the mist, but the world was silent and the objects about us were ghostly in the vaporous shrouds. The hours wore on and the fog continued thick and warm. We had all been hungry before the mist arose; we were now growing restless and desperate to satisfy our cravings.

To add to my own discomforts I began to worry about the fuse absorbing dampness. Should it be ruined by the fog the mines would be useless. What might happen then was beyond conjecture, for we should have no large bombs to use, and the small ones left in the magazine could not be provided with fuse. In the midst of my troubles, little Tike came stumbling against my leg. He fell down at my feet, but was up at once and gazing in my face with his odd little smile playing lightly on his lips. I took him on my arm and going to my shelter gave him all he would take of the fruits. Fatty, on seeing this, fetched his hidden store and rolled about in ecstasy when he had placed it before me. I ate a piece of his hoarded fruit to please the old fellow, after which I endeavoured, vainly, to get him to eat what remained.

He was ravenously hungry, so much so that he could not keep his eyes from the tempting mangoes and papaw, nor keep his tongue from lapping at his chops, yet he still refused to eat when I signified that I should take no more. He concealed the hoard again, returning to his place with his stomach empty.

Only once, since my advent among the Links, had a fog remained all day to obscure the hills and forest, but this one threatened to perform a similar feat. From time to time it lifted for a moment from a local area, only to descend again more quickly than before. I began to believe that perhaps it might be possible for a party of us to deploy on a foraging tour and visit the grove of fruit-bearing trees. Unfortunately the Blacks had made their camp in the most accessible “orchard,” which gave them a great advantage. However, I knew of several cocoanut palms, a little removed from the enemy’s position, which I thought I could find, even in the dark. I decided to make an attempt to reach this grove.

It was well along in the afternoon by this, and the fog still hung heavily on the country. As before, I had considerable trouble in getting a force of fellows to back me in the enterprise. But the hungriest became the bravest and therefore with ten stout fellows, all armed, I left the wall behind and went cautiously down the hill.

Very soon I found that everything appeared so altered in the mist that piloting my party was not at all an easy matter. I disliked exceedingly the prospect of finding myself in the enemy’s lines, but having started, I was too proud, or too stubborn, to do such a sensible thing as retreat and own myself baffled. We therefore proceeded uncertainly along, near the edge of the trees, getting deeper and deeper, it seemed, into the maze of fog and unfamiliar objects. The mist down here was much more dense than that which floated about the camp above.

As we prowled stealthily ahead, looking aloft at the shadowy trees, the curtain of vapour was rended about us, abruptly, leaving us bare—as it were—and completely revealed. On the second a cry of alarm broke from a Black, not fifteen yards away, and a chorus of yells made answer, as a score of the demons rushed out from the cover of trees, to give us battle.

My nimble fellows vanished like shadows, bounding swiftly up the slope and into the kindly bank of fog, before the Blacks could so much as count their heels. I also started to dash away toward the camp, but tripped over a rolling stone and fell down heavily, my ankle sprained and pain shooting all through my leg and body. Scrambling on hands and knees in desperate haste, I made toward the fog, conscious that three or four of the Blacks were dashing toward me. I breathed a great sigh of relief and thankfulness to see the mist close in upon the place.

Turning instantly, when this veiling pall was about me, I moved at the top of my speed toward the trees and undergrowth of vines. I heard the cry of triumph which burst from the lips of the creatures who thoroughly expected to leap upon me, and I heard even the quick, light tread of their feet as they ran, but the turn had deceived them and diving into the tangle of leaves and creepers, pushing my bow and dragging my aching foot, I lay at full length, to pant, for a brief time, when I crawled laboriously off in the direction which I believed to be opposite the camp of the foe.

My pursuers raced about at random on the slope, chattering in disgust and amazement, but they were soon confused by the fog. They searched about for several minutes, one of them coming almost upon me, as I lay beneath the vines, but at last all returned to their savage companions. I could now guess the direction of the camp they had formed by the sounds they made in retiring. This direction seemed entirely contrary to what I had mentally determined to be right. However, I crawled away from the vicinity which I now knew bordered on their position, and turned to go toward the hill.