CHAPTER VII.THE WONDERFUL CITY.
That the Steam Man had escaped from the attack of the pigmies, this would make certain.
Straight for the barrier erected by the foe Frank sent the Man.
When twenty yards from it, he closed the throttle and applied the brake.
“Now, Pompy!” he cried, “it’s a fight for life.”
“Yo’ kin jes’ bet on dat, Marse Frank,” cried the plucky darky.
“We must not waste a shot.”
“Not a one, Marse Frank.”
At the loopholes the two adventurers stationed themselves, and opened fire upon the foe.
The pigmies hurled their lances at the cage.
But they were shattered against the steel netting and did no harm at all.
On the other hand, the repeaters did deadly work.
No human power could face such a destructive fire. The pigmies were driven from the barricade.
Then Frank Reade, Jr., kept them at a distance, while Pomp dismounted and set about clearing a pathway for the Man.
This was not a very easy job, but Pomp finally succeeded and the Steam Man passed through the barrier.
A few shots were sent after the pigmies, and then the Man under Frank’s skillful guidance set out for the plain.
It was not long before the Steam Man was out of the forest.
Once out upon the open plain, Frank set his course along the edge of the forest.
Suddenly Pomp sprang up with a sharp cry:
“Golly sakes, Marse Frank, dar am dat I’ishman alibe an’ well as I’m a nigger. Jes’ look dar.”
“Barney!” gasped Frank.
“Dat am a fac’.”
“Thank Heaven.”
Frank gazed in the direction indicated by Pomp, and saw Barney waving his arms frantically in the air.
At once Frank pulled the whistle valve and increased the Steam Man’s speed.
A few moments later the Steam Man came to a halt upon the spot where Barney had stood.
The meeting was a joyous one. Barney and Pomp embraced, and Frank gripped Buckden’s hand.
“Tony, I’m awful glad to see you,” he declared. “I feared you were dead. They assured me at Campeachy that you would never be found alive.”
“Well, they didn’t know anything about it,” declared Tony, sententiously; “then you got my letter?”
“Yes.”
“And you have answered it in person. Just like you.”
“Look here, Tony,” said Frank, seriously; “I was sent here by your father to look you up and bring you home.”
“Humph!” exclaimed Tony, with a shrug of his shoulders.
“That is the truth.”
“Well, I’m not ready to go home yet.”
“You are not?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I propose to find the ruined city and its treasure first. I thought that you had come here to help me.”
“Do you believe it exists?”
“Of course I do.”
“Near here?”
“Why, I believe that we are not ten miles from it.”
“But if it is inhabited with people like these with whom we have just had a little experience——”
“But it is not. It is a ruined and deserted city. Come, Frank, with your Steam Man we can find it. You must agree to go.”
Frank was silent a moment.
Now that he had accomplished the real object of his mission—the rescue of Tony Buckden—he was quite willing to turn about and go home.
But he knew Tony well enough to be sure that he was very much in earnest.
He would not leave his purpose unaccomplished, even though it cost him his life.
There was no doubt but that with the Steam Man the country could be safely explored.
Frank was a trifle skeptical now as to the real existence of Mazendla.
But he reasoned that it would do no great harm to give at least another week to exploration.
In that time, no doubt, Tony would be satisfied, and then of course would willingly return.
So Frank extended his hand.
“All right, Tony,” he declared, “I am with you.”
“Good for you, old pard!” cried Buckden, joyfully. “I knew you would do it. Now for Mazendla.”
“But I must say I have no idea of the location of the city.”
“But I do.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I learned it from a native.”
“Ah!”
“Go due east across this table-land. When a tall, sugar-loaf shaped mountain is directly ahead of you, bear to the right and enter a canyon. It will take you directly to Mazendla, the most wonderful of cities.”
“All right,” cried Frank. “We will follow your directions. All aboard, everybody!”
All scrambled into the cage, and Frank set the Steam Man in motion.
The temple in the forest and the strange race of pigmies were left behind. Nothing more was seen of them.
The Steam Man rapidly crossed the plain.
In the course of an hour the distant shadowy peak of a mountain was seen.
It was some while before its shape became sufficiently clear to decide the question as to whether it was the sugar loaf mountain they were in quest of.
But Buckden declared that it was, and that they were on the right track.
So Frank kept the Steam Man going at full speed.
Every moment now they drew nearer the mountain.
“Look!” cried Buckden, suddenly springing up, “there is the canyon. I tell you we are all right.”
“Shall we go for the canyon?” asked Frank Reade, Jr.
“Yes.”
A short while later the Steam Man was picking his way along through a mighty gorge fully a thousand feet deep.
For hours the travelers toiled through this mighty gorge.
Then suddenly the Steam Man came out on a mighty plateau.
And before the explorers was now spread a most wonderful sight.
Not one hundred yards distant was the mighty gateway of a city.
The towers upon either side rose to a height of fully one hundred feet.
The wall was high, massive and thick. But it was time cracked and tumbling and decayed.
It required but a glance, however, to detect the evidences of former magnificence and grandeur.
“Hurrah!” shouted young Buckden, completely beside himself. “At last we have found the city of Mazendla.”
All was excitement and our explorers could hardly contain themselves.
Frank steered the Steam Man straight for the gateway and passed through it.
Before them stretched the wide street of the city.
It was fully two hundred feet wide. Upon either side rose high buildings and all in a state of decay.
The wide street, which seemed to extend for miles through this mammoth city, was paved with blocks of a species of sandstone.
Between the stones grass had grown up, and in places trees had attained a great height.
Palms grew and flourished upon the roofs of many of the buildings, and everywhere clinging vines bedecked the ruins.
It was a wonderful sight, and one which our adventurers never forgot.
The sight of this wonderful city of ruins awoke many strange thoughts and sentiments in the breasts of all.
The one question occurred to each: What manner of people had built this wonderful city, how many centuries ago, and what had become of them?
How long had it been since the feet of human beings had trod these streets?
It must have been many centuries previous, as the appearance of the buildings would proclaim that they had not been erected in very recent times.
All this must remain a mystery.
One day a powerful race had here flourished, enlightened, civilized, and certainly intellectual.
Now nothing remained of them but a few crumbling palaces.
It was a wonderful thing to ponder upon. Indeed, the more one studied upon it the more befogged one became.
What had carried off this vast nation of people?
Was it a pestilence, or a war of extermination, or had their seed by some strange fate exhausted itself and they became extinct as the dodo or the megatherium, or any other antediluvian animal?
There was nothing at hand to answer this question, and there seemed no other way but to accept it as a mystery never to be solved.
The Steam Man jogged leisurely along the broad street.
The occupants of the wagon gazed with wonder upon the stupendous piles upon either side.
Suddenly Barney gave an exclamation and picked up his rifle.
From one of the buildings a spotted leopard had leaped.
The pretty creature crouched for a moment in the Steam Man’s path, snarling and defiant.
“Begorra, ain’t he a beauty?” cried Barney, eulogistically. “Shure, I’m goin’ to have the skin of the baste.”
So without a moment’s hesitation the Celt drew aim and fired.
The leopard gave a quick, sharp yelp of pain, leaped in the air and fell dead.
The bullet had sped true to the mark. Barney was a dead shot.
“Hooray!” cried the excited Irishman. “I flunked him just off. Now av yez plaze, Misther Frank, will yez jist howld an wan minnit?”
Frank could not refuse this request, so he brought the Steam Man to a halt, saying:
“Pshaw! You don’t want his skin, Barney. It is of little use.”
“Don’t I?” exclaimed the Celt. “Yez kin jist bate I do. I’ll take it home to me friends in Ameriky, an’ tell thim what a foine shot I am.”
Barney opened the rear door and leaped out of the cage.
He went directly up to the leopard, and was about to lift the creature upon his shoulders, when a thrilling thing occurred.
Suddenly, from the same building, four more of the savage animals appeared.
They saw Barney, and without further ceremony came for him like a flash.
The Irishman saw his predicament, and knew that he was in deadly peril.
It required but a moment for him to act.
“Whurroo!” he yelled. “I’m a son av a say cook if the woods ain’t full av the divils. Luk out there, yez spotted imps. Be off, I say.”
Barney fired at the first leopard, and the shot struck the animal’s shoulder.
For a moment it wavered and then tumbled in a heap. But the next moment the three leopards left were upon Barney.
The Celt went to the ground like a ten-pin. It began to look as if his fate was surely sealed.
With three of the animals upon him he would speedily have been clawed to death.
But fortunately for him Barney had valuable allies in the three friends aboard the Steam Man.
A startled cry came from Frank’s lips as he saw the leopards appear.
He at once snatched up his rifle.
“Heavens!” he cried. “Barney will be killed.”
Pomp and Tony were no less quick in also coming to the rescue.
All three fired. As chance had it all fired at the same leopard and every shot told.
The animal pitched forward dead across Barney’s body. The other two leopards tumbled over him, and by the time they had recovered themselves the repeaters had got into working order again.
Crack—ack—ack!
Another leopard tumbled over. Before the marksmen could again fire the surviving animal with a snarling cry fled and was quickly out of range.
Frank descended and rushed to Barney’s side.