Chapter III
How we accomplished the descent is one of the mysteries that will always be associated in my mind with the Valley of Sobul. Even for the unhampered traveler, as I was to learn, the grades were perilous; but for climbers impeded with the weight of a disabled man, they must have been well-nigh impossible. Unfortunately, I have little recollection of what happened on the way down; I believe that I was half delirious from hunger and pain; I have indistinct memories of muttering and screaming strange things, and at best I can recall that we trailed as in a dream along endless spiral paths by the brink of bottomless chasms.
It was late twilight when I was aroused to a dim awareness of myself. Evidently our party had halted, for I was lying on the ground; on all sides of me, unfamiliar voices were chattering. Although still too listless to care much what happened, I opened my eyes and observed a crowd of dusky forms moving shadow-like through the gloom. In their midst, perhaps a hundred paces to my right, a great golden bonfire was blazing, casting a fantastic wavy illumination as it glared and crackled; and by its light I thought I could distinguish a score or more of little cabin-like structures.
In my feverish state of mind, I had the impression that I had been captured by savages; tales of cannibals and cannibal feasts, in a nightmarish sequence, streamed across my memory. Perhaps I cried out in a half-witted way; or perhaps it was merely that I groaned unconsciously at my wounds, for suddenly I found myself the focus of attention for the dusky figures; a dozen pairs of eyes were peering at me curiously. Among them were two which, even in the dimness, I thought I could recognize: while the multitude were mumbling unintelligibly, a feminine form bent over me, and a feminine voice murmured so gently that I was reassured even though I did not understand the words.
And again I felt myself lifted by strong hands; and, after a minute, I was borne through a doorway into the vagueness of some rude dwelling. The room was a small one, I judged; in the sputtering candlelight it appeared to me that my outspread arms could have reached halfway across. Yet I took no note of details as the unseen hands placed me on a mass of some stringy, yielding substance. So exhausted was I that I quickly lost track of my surroundings in much needed sleep.
It may have been hours before I awoke, greatly refreshed, yet with a sensation of terror. All about me was darkness; the silence was complete. For an instant I had an impression of being back on the mountain in the fog; then, as recollection came flashing upon me, I understood that I was safe among friends. But all the rest of that night I was tormented by dreams of lonely crags and mantling mists; and when again I awoke it was abruptly and after a nightmare fall over a precipice whose bottom I never reached....
To my joy, it was once more twilight. By the illumination of an open, glassless window, I could distinguish the details of the room—and singular details they were! The walls were of logs, great rough-hewn pine logs standing erect and parallel, with the bark still clinging; slenderer logs formed the flat low ceiling; and timbers crudely smoothed and levelled constituted what passed for a floor. Scattered masses of straw did duty as a carpet, while straw likewise composed my couch; and I was lying so low that I could have rolled to the floor without injury. I noted that the room had neither ornament nor furniture; that the wide, open fireplace, filled with cold ashes, seemed almost the only convenience; and that the door, while as massively built as the walls, was apparently without lock or bolt.
But as the light gradually increased, it was not the room itself that held my attention, but rather the view from the window. No painting I had ever observed was so exquisite as that vision of a green and white eastern mountain, rounded like a great head and aureoled with rose and silver where the rays of sunrise fought their way fitfully through serried bands of cloud.
The last faint flush had not yet faded from above the peak when the cabin door creaked and slowly opened, and I caught a glimpse of auburn hair, and saw two brown eyes peering in at me curiously. A strange joy swept over me; and as the fair stranger stood hesitating like a bashful child in the doorway, my only fear was that she would be too timid to enter.
But after a minute she overcame her shyness; gently and on tiptoe she stepped in, closing the door carefully behind her. I observed that she had not come empty-handed; she carried not only a water-jug but several odd little straw-colored objects. Approaching slowly, still with just a hint of hesitation, she murmured pleasantly in the native tongue; then, having seated herself cross-legged on the floor within touching distance, she offered me the water, which was crystal-clear and cool. The eagerness with which I drank sent a happy smile rippling across her face; and the daintiest of dimples budded on both her cheeks.
After I had satisfied my thirst, she held out one of the straw-colored objects invitingly. I found it to be hard and gritty of texture, like some new kind of wood; but while I was examining it, turning it round and round like a child with a new toy, my visitor was pointing to her open lips, and at the same time revolved her gleaming white teeth as though chewing some invisible food. I would have been dull indeed not to understand.
A single bite told me that the object was a form of native bread. The flavor of whole wheat was unmistakable; and, to my famished senses, it was the flavor of ambrosia. Only by exercising unusual will power could I refrain from swallowing the loaf almost at a gulp.
My greedy disposal of the food was evidently reward enough for my hostess, who beamed upon me as if well pleased with herself. I even thought—and was it but imagination?—that her shy glances were not purely impersonal. Certainly, there was nothing impersonal in the stares with which I followed her every motion—or in my disappointment when after a time the great log door swung inward again to admit a second caller.
Yet I did my best to greet my new visitor with signs of pleasure; for I recognized him as one of my rescuers. He entered as silently and cautiously as though on his best sick-room behavior; and after peering at me curiously and returning my nod of welcome, he murmured a few words to the girl, and as silently and cautiously took his leave.
Thenceforth, I was to receive visitors in a stream. The moments that day were to be few when three or four natives were not whispering in a corner of the room. A census of my callers would have been a census of the village; no one able to stand on his own legs missed the opportunity to inspect me. Children of all ages and sizes appeared in groups; gaped at me as if I had been a giraffe in a menagerie; and were bustled out by their elders, to be followed by other children, by men in their prime, women with babes in arm, and tottering grayheads. But most of my hosts showed that they were moved by warmer motives than curiosity; many bore offerings of food and drink, fruit and berries, cakes and cereals, bread and cheese and goats' milk, which they thrust before me with such generosity that I could consume but a small fraction.
While they swarmed about the cabin, I observed them as closely as my condition permitted. Their actions and garb made it plain that they were peasants; all, like yesterday's acquaintances, were dressed in rude garments of red and blue, with colored turbans and striped trousers and leggings, the feminine apparel differing from the masculine chiefly in being more brilliant-hued. And all, men and women alike, were robustly built and attractive. The majority had handsome, well modelled faces, with swarthy skins and candid, expressive eyes, at the sight of which I felt reassured; for here in the mountains of Afghanistan, among some of the fiercest and most treacherous tribes on earth, I might easily have fallen into less kindly hands.
During the day I was visited by two men who took a particular interest in me. The first, who came early in the morning, was evidently the local equivalent of a physician, for he examined me from head to foot with a solemn and knowing air and caused me much annoyance by feeling my limbs as if to see that they were whole. Of course, he did not overlook my right arm; and I passed a miserable half hour while he adjusted a crude splint and bound and bandaged the broken member with stout vegetable fibres.
My second visitor performed less of a service. He was an old man, still erect and sparkling-eyed, although he must have passed the traditional three score years and ten; and his long white beard, drooping untended as far as his waistline, gave him a Rip Van Winkle appearance. Upon his entrance, the others made way with little bows of awe; and as he sedately approached the straw where I was lying, five or six men and women gathered to my rear, whispering in half-suppressed agitation. These were quickly joined by others from without; and soon my visitors were massed layers deep against all the walls, and the air became fetid and hot with overcrowded humanity.
Meanwhile I felt like a sacrificial victim awaiting the priestly knife. Had my hosts spared me only so that I might serve as an offering to some pagan god? So I wondered as I watched the white-bearded one gravely bending over me; watched him rubbing his hands solemnly together as though in pursuance of a religious rite. And when, after several minutes, he turned from me to smear a brown ointment on his palms, my apprehension mounted to terror, which was not soothed when he stooped down and dampened my forehead with the ointment, meanwhile mumbling unintelligibly to himself. His next step, which I awaited in the trembling helplessness of a vivisected animal, was to reach toward my clothes and examine them fold by fold; after which he drew from his pocket a sparkling object, a prism of glass, which he held up in the sunlight of the window, shedding the rainbow reflection on the opposite wall, and staring at it as though it were the key to some transcendent truth.
Much to my relief, the ordeal was apparently over now; the old man turned his back upon me as though I had ceased to matter, and began sonorously to address his people. Not understanding a word, I could not be much interested; but I did observe how reverentially his audience stood regarding him, with staring dark eyes and gestures of self-abasement, while hanging on his every syllable as if it embodied divine wisdom.
His first remarks were evidently cheerful or even jocular; for they evoked smiles and occasionally laughter. But soon, apparently, he turned to graver subjects; and his listeners became serious and thoughtful, as though spellbound by his eloquence. How long they remained thus I do not know; my watch having run down, I had no way of reckoning time; but it seemed to me that the speaker held forth for at least an hour. And long before he had finished, my mind had drifted to more interesting matters.
I was asking myself what had happened to Damon, and whether my fellow geologists were searching the mountains for my corpse, when the old man wheeled about abruptly, and with fiery eyes pointed at me as if in accusation.
In high-pitched, staccato tones, almost like a cry of agony, he uttered three sharp monosyllables, then became silent.
At the same time, suppressed cries burst from the spectators. It may have been only imagination, but I thought they were eyeing me in alarm and reproach, and that they were edging away from me; and I know that, in a moment, those to the rear had crowded through the door. Soon only three or four remained, and I was left to wonder whether my rescuers were after all not the kindly mountaineers I had taken them to be, but merely superstitious savages.