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The Gold Idol - ebook
The Gold Idol - ebook
Welcome to the „The Gold Idol” book, were we present to you one of the best work of remarkable author of „pulp fiction” Francis Henry „Frank” Atkins (1847-1927), who contributed widely to the pre-sf Pulp magazines, writing at least three Lost-World novels along with much else. Despite his commercial success at the time, little is known about Atkins’ personal life. His son was writer Frank Howard Atkins too.
Kategoria: | Suspense |
Język: | Angielski |
Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
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ISBN: | 978-83-8292-495-4 |
Rozmiar pliku: | 2,8 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
ENGLAND’S colony in South America. British Guiana is a country that, since the time of Sir Walter Raleigh, has ever teemed with mystery and suggestions of romance. And it remains to-day very much what it was then, as regards possible discoveries, a region of fascinating potentialities. Though much has been accomplished of late years in the way of exploration, yet vast tracts of its forest land are still utterly unknown. There are mountains, too, which, being surrounded by belts of primeval forest so dense as to be practically impenetrable, have never yet been ascended, and about these, as well as about the untraversed forests, the Indians have many curious tales to tell, tales of strange, unknown peoples and ancient cities said to be still existing there. And these stories derive additional interest from the fact that travellers have stated that at night they have seen on these mountains lights for which they could not in any way account; and this statement has been made by European explorers and scientists, whose credibility cannot be impeached.
It was in the vicinity of one of these unexplored mountains–near that undefined borderland between British Guiana and Venezuela which have recently threatened to involve us in a dispute with the United States–that a party of travellers, some years ago, made a curious and unexpected discovery. The party consisted of three Englishmen and a few native Indians, the former being respectively, Dr Elderfield, a veteran explorer and antiquarian; Mr Allan Fendal, a botanist; and a friend of the latter, Arthur Meldon, a young man of good family, who had joined the expedition out of pure love of adventure.
The mountain near which they were encamped is called by the Indians ‘Maleema,’ and they found it to be surrounded by a belt or zone of forest of such dense growth as to baffle all their efforts to penetrate it beyond a comparatively short distance from the edge. But the place teemed with new and wonderful flowers, orchids, and other rare plants, the like of which they had never seen before, and this fact tended to console them for their failure to penetrate to the mountain itself, and for the dangers, fatigues, and privations they had undergone in their journey to the place. And these had been by no means of a light and trivial character. Food of all kinds was scarce, the sole inhabitants being a few tribes of Indians, and these only to be met with in certain districts. Extensive tracts of the country are wild solitudes, given over entirely to nature in its most savage form, and the strange animals, birds, reptiles and insects which flourish beneath the tropical sun. Here one may travel–as travellers have actually recorded–as many as thirty days together, without the sight of a human being, other than those in the traveller’s own party; and, naturally, therefore, supplies of food must be included in the expedition, and, when they run short, a fresh stock is difficult to procure.
Fendal and Elderfield’s party were in a difficulty as to food, so much so that it was threatening to bring their attempted exploration of this mountain to an abrupt conclusion. Of tinned provisions, flour, and some other necessaries–for themselves–they had a fairly good supply, and fresh meat could be had by hunting. The difficulty was that the “cassava”–upon which the Indians almost exclusively subsist–was running short; thus they would soon be without food for their native guides and carriers. Then a council was held, and it was decided to send their chief guide, Malao, and another Indian, on a visit to an Indian village, said to exist about two days’ journey distant, and called Lennamouta, with a view to treating for supplies of the all-important cassava. To this Malao had strongly objected, declaring that the people at this village were reputed to be savage and unfriendly, jealous of all who ventured upon their territory, and fiercely vindictive. But, in the end, his scruples had been overruled, and he had been prevailed upon to start. It was during his absence that the discovery which I have referred to was made.
Elderfield and Fendal, wandering farther afield than usual around the fringe of the forest belt, came, greatly to their surprise, upon a sort of path or track running into the wood, and so clearly defined that it had obviously been much used, and that recently. They returned to the camp for their friend, and then all three set out to explore this most unexpected mystery. The track led them far into the depths of the sombre forest, with its giant trees and tangled undergrowth of gigantic creepers, until they came to an extensive clearing filled with the most extraordinary, most fantastic ruins and sculptures they had ever seen or thought of. Remains of temples, palaces and other edifices, all of solid stone, were to be seen on every side scattered about in wild confusion; but beyond, and occupying a large clearing by itself, was a ring formed of a collection of huge rocks, sculptured with remarkable skill into the likeness of all kinds of men, women, animals and birds. It was, in fact, as Elderfield aptly expressed it, “a sort of glorified Stonehenge”; and the strange mystery of its presence in that gloomy forest rooted the three travellers to the spot. They stood speechless, gazing at the spectacle with awe and wonder. At one end was what seemed to be an altar. It consisted of a large stone block of curious shape; originally, apparently, it had been in the form of a star, with grooves sunk into the stone that led to overhanging spouts, like the lips of a jug. Elderfield at once divined and pointed out their object.
“They were to drain off the blood of the victims sacrificed upon this altar,” he explained, “that it might be caught in vessels placed under these spouts.”
“Do you suppose the victims were human beings?” asked Meldon, with a shudder.
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