'I am glad that I did not live in those times,' said Duare.
* * * * *
For several days we wandered on through the forest. I knew that we were hopelessly lost, but I was anxious to get out of that gloomy wood. It was getting on our nerves. I managed to kill small game with my spear and my arrows; there was an abundance of fruit and nuts; and water was plentiful. In the matter of food we lived like kings, and we were fortunate in our encounters with the more formidable creatures we met. Luckily for us we saw none that were arboreal, though I am positive that this was merely by the luckiest chance, for the woods of Amtor harbor many terrible creatures that live wholly in the trees.
Duare, notwithstanding all the hardships and dangers she was constantly undergoing, seldom complained. She remained remarkably cheerful in the face of what was now palpably the absolute certainty that we could never hope to find the distant island where her father was king. Sometimes she was sober and silent for long periods, and I guessed that at these times she was sorrowing; but she did not share her sorrows with me. I wished that she would; we often share our sorrows with those we love.
But one day she suddenly sat down and began to cry. I was so surprised that I just stood there for several minutes staring at her before I could think of anything to say, and then I didn't think of anything very brilliant.
'Why, Duare!' I cried. 'What's the matter? Are you ill?'
She shook her head and sought to stifle her sobs. 'I'm sorry,' she managed to say at last. 'I didn't mean to; I've tried not to; but this forest! Oh, Carson , it's on my nerves; it haunts me even in my sleep. It is endless; it goes on and on forever—gloomy, forbidding, filled with terrible dangers. There!' she exclaimed, and rising she shook her head as though to dispel unwelcome visions. 'I'm all right now; I won't do it again.' She smiled through her tears.
I wanted to take her in my arms and comfort her—oh, how badly I wanted to! But I only laid a hand upon her shoulder. 'I know just how you feel,' I told her. 'I've felt the same way for days. I have to take it out by swearing to myself. But it can't last forever, Duare. There must be an end to it pretty soon; and, anyway, you must remember that the forest has fed us and sheltered us and protected us.'
'As a jailer feeds and shelters and protects the criminal condemned to die,' she responded dully. 'Come! Let's not speak of it any more.'
Once again the underbrush was thick, and we were following a game trail that was as erratic as most game trails. I think it was this thick brush that depressed Duare even more than the forest itself. I know it always depressed me. The trail was wide and we were walking abreast when suddenly at a turning the forest seemed to disappear in front of us. There was a void staring us in the face, and beyond that, far, far away, the outlines of distant mountains.
Chapter 8—Down the Escarpment
WONDERINGLY we advanced until we stood upon the brink of a lofty escarpment. Far below, at least five thousand feet, a great valley spread before our eyes. Far, far away, across it, we saw the outlines of the distant mountains that hemmed it upon that side; but to the right and left its extent was shrouded in the mists of distance.
During the days that we had been wandering in the forest we must have been climbing steadily, but the ascent had been so gradual that we had scarcely noticed it. Now, the effect of coming suddenly upon this mighty depression was startling. It was as though I were looking into a deep pit that lay far below sea level. This impression, however, was soon dispelled, for in the distance I saw a great river winding along the bed of the valley; and I knew that it must run downward to some sea.
'A new world!' breathed Duare. 'How beautiful by contrast with this frightful forest!'
'Let us hope that it will be no less kind to us than the forest has been.'
'How could it be otherwise than kind? It is so beautiful,' she replied. 'There must be people living there, generous, kindly people as lovely as their lovely valley. There could be no evil where there is so much beauty. Perhaps they will help us to return to my Vepaja. I am sure they will.'
'I hope so, Duare,' I said.
'See!' she exclaimed. 'There are little rivers running into the big river, and there are level plains dotted with trees, and there are forests, too, but no terrible forest that stretches on and on seemingly without end as this that we are escaping. Do you see any cities or signs of man, Carson?'
I shook my head. 'I cannot be positive. We are very high above the valley; and the large river, where it is probable the cities would be, is far away. Only a very great city with tall buildings would be visible from here, and the haze that hangs over the valley might even hide a large city from us. We shall have to go down into the valley to find out.'
'I can scarcely wait,' exclaimed Duare.
The trail on which we had approached the edge of the escarpment turned sharply to the left and skirted the brink, but from it a smaller trail branched and dropped over the edge.
This trail was little better than a faintly marked foot path, and it zigzagged down the almost vertical face of the escarpment in a manner calculated to send the cold chills up one's back if he happened to be affected by such things.
'Few creatures go up and down here,' remarked Duare, as she looked over the edge of the escarpment at the dizzy trail.
'Perhaps we had better go on farther; there may be an easier way down,' I suggested, thinking that she might be fearful.
'No,' she demurred. 'I wanted to get out of the forest, and here is my chance. Something has gone up and down here; and if something else has, we can.'
'Take my hands, then; it is very steep.'
She did as I bid, and I also handed her my spear to use as a staff. Thus we started the perilous descent. Even now I hate to recall it. It was not only fraught with danger but it was exceedingly exhausting. A dozen times I thought that we were doomed; seemingly it was impossible to descend farther, and certainly it would have been impossible to retrace our steps to the summit, for there had been places where we had lowered ourselves over ledges that we could not have again scaled.
* * * * *
Duare was very brave. She amazed me. Not only was her courage remarkable, but her endurance was almost unbelievable in one so delicately moulded. And she kept cheerful and good-natured. Often she laughed when she would slip and almost fall, where a fall meant death.
'I said,' she recalled, once while we were resting, 'that something must have come up and down this trail. Now I wonder what manner of creature it may be.'
'Perhaps it is a mountain goat,' I suggested. 'I can think of nothing else that might do it.'
She did not know what a mountain goat was, and I knew of no Venusan animal with which to compare it. She thought that a mistal might easily go up and down such a trail. I had never heard of this animal, but from her description I judged it to be a rat-like animal about the size of a house cat.
As we were starting down again after a rest, I heard a noise below us and looked over the edge of the ledge on which we stood to see what had caused it.'
'We are about to have our curiosity satisfied,' I whispered to Duare. 'Here comes the trail maker.'
'Is it a mistal?' she asked.
'No, nor a mountain goat; but it is just the sort of a creature that might most easily cling to this vertical pathway. I don't know what you Amtorians call it. Take a look; perhaps you will recognize it.'
It was a huge, hideous lizard about twenty feet in length that was climbing sluggishly upward toward our position.
Leaning on my shoulder, Duare glanced downward over the ledge. She voiced a low gasp of terror.
'I think it is a vere,' she said, 'and if it is we are in for it. I have never seen one, but I have read of them in books and seen their pictures; this one looks like the pictures I have seen.'
'Are they dangerous?' I asked.
