I remember that I hoped they would make short work of me as I
did not particularly relish the thought of the innumerable things
they might do to me if the spirit prompted them.
I had not long to wait before a stealthy sound apprised me of
their nearness, and then a war-bonneted, paint-streaked face was
thrust cautiously around the shoulder of the cliff, and savage eyes
looked into mine. That he could see me in the dim light of the cave
I was sure for the early morning sun was falling full upon me
through the opening.
The fellow, instead of approaching, merely stood and stared; his
eyes bulging and his jaw dropped. And then another savage face
appeared, and a third and fourth and fifth, craning their necks
over the shoulders of their fellows whom they could not pass upon
the narrow ledge. Each face was the picture of awe and fear, but
for what reason I did not know, nor did I learn until ten years
later. That there were still other braves behind those who regarded
me was apparent from the fact that the leaders passed back
whispered word to those behind them.
Suddenly a low but distinct moaning sound issued from the
recesses of the cave behind me, and, as it reached the ears of the
Indians, they turned and fled in terror, panic-stricken. So frantic
were their efforts to escape from the unseen thing behind me that
one of the braves was hurled headlong from the cliff to the rocks
below. Their wild cries echoed in the canyon for a short time, and
then all was still once more.
The sound which had frightened them was not repeated, but it had
been sufficient as it was to start me speculating on the possible
horror which lurked in the shadows at my back. Fear is a relative
term and so I can only measure my feelings at that time by what I
had experienced in previous positions of danger and by those that I
have passed through since; but I can say without shame that if the
sensations I endured during the next few minutes were fear, then
may God help the coward, for cowardice is of a surety its own
punishment.
To be held paralyzed, with one’s back toward some horrible and
unknown danger from the very sound of which the ferocious Apache
warriors turn in wild stampede, as a flock of sheep would madly
flee from a pack of wolves, seems to me the last word in fearsome
predicaments for a man who had ever been used to fighting for his
life with all the energy of a powerful physique.
Several times I thought I heard faint sounds behind me as of
somebody moving cautiously, but eventually even these ceased, and I
was left to the contemplation of my position without interruption.
I could but vaguely conjecture the cause of my paralysis, and my
only hope lay in that it might pass off as suddenly as it had
fallen upon me.
Late in the afternoon my horse, which had been standing with
dragging rein before the cave, started slowly down the trail,
evidently in search of food and water, and I was left alone with my
mysterious unknown companion and the dead body of my friend, which
lay just within my range of vision upon the ledge where I had
placed it in the early morning.
From then until possibly midnight all was silence, the silence
of the dead; then, suddenly, the awful moan of the morning broke
upon my startled ears, and there came again from the black shadows
the sound of a moving thing, and a faint rustling as of dead
leaves. The shock to my already overstrained nervous system was
terrible in the extreme, and with a superhuman effort I strove to
break my awful bonds. It was an effort of the mind, of the will, of
the nerves; not muscular, for I could not move even so much as my
little finger, but none the less mighty for all that. And then
something gave, there was a momentary feeling of nausea, a sharp
click as of the snapping of a steel wire, and I stood with my back
against the wall of the cave facing my unknown foe.
And then the moonlight flooded the cave, and there before me lay
my own body as it had been lying all these hours, with the eyes
staring toward the open ledge and the hands resting limply upon the
ground. I looked first at my lifeless clay there upon the floor of
the cave and then down at myself in utter bewilderment; for there I
lay clothed, and yet here I stood but naked as at the minute of my
birth.
The transition had been so sudden and so unexpected that it left
me for a moment forgetful of aught else than my strange
metamorphosis. My first thought was, is this then death! Have I
indeed passed over forever into that other life! But I could not
well believe this, as I could feel my heart pounding against my
ribs from the exertion of my efforts to release myself from the
anaesthesis which had held me. My breath was coming in quick, short
gasps, cold sweat stood out from every pore of my body, and the
ancient experiment of pinching revealed the fact that I was
anything other than a wraith.
Again was I suddenly recalled to my immediate surroundings by a
repetition of the weird moan from the depths of the cave. Naked and
unarmed as I was, I had no desire to face the unseen thing which
menaced me.
My revolvers were strapped to my lifeless body which, for some
unfathomable reason, I could not bring myself to touch. My carbine
was in its boot, strapped to my saddle, and as my horse had
wandered off I was left without means of defense. My only
alternative seemed to lie in flight and my decision was
crystallized by a recurrence of the rustling sound from the thing
which now seemed, in the darkness of the cave and to my distorted
imagination, to be creeping stealthily upon me.
Unable longer to resist the temptation to escape this horrible
place I leaped quickly through the opening into the starlight of a
clear Arizona night. The crisp, fresh mountain air outside the cave
acted as an immediate tonic and I felt new life and new courage
coursing through me. Pausing upon the brink of the ledge I
upbraided myself for what now seemed to me wholly unwarranted
apprehension. I reasoned with myself that I had lain helpless for
many hours within the cave, yet nothing had molested me, and my
better judgment, when permitted the direction of clear and logical
reasoning, convinced me that the noises I had heard must have
resulted from purely natural and harmless causes; probably the
conformation of the cave was such that a slight breeze had caused
the sounds I heard.
I decided to investigate, but first I lifted my head to fill my
lungs with the pure, invigorating night air of the mountains. As I
did so I saw stretching far below me the beautiful vista of rocky
gorge, and level, cacti-studded flat, wrought by the moonlight into
a miracle of soft splendor and wondrous enchantment.
Few western wonders are more inspiring than the beauties of an
Arizona moonlit landscape; the silvered mountains in the distance,
the strange lights and shadows upon hog back and arroyo, and the
grotesque details of the stiff, yet beautiful cacti form a picture
at once enchanting and inspiring; as though one were catching for
the first time a glimpse of some dead and forgotten world, so
different is it from the aspect of any other spot upon our
earth.
As I stood thus meditating, I turned my gaze from the landscape
to the heavens where the myriad stars formed a gorgeous and fitting
canopy for the wonders of the earthly scene. My attention was
quickly riveted by a large red star close to the distant horizon.
As I gazed upon it I felt a spell of overpowering fascination—it
was Mars, the god of war, and for me, the fighting man, it had
always held the power of irresistible enchantment. As I gazed at it
on that far-gone night it seemed to call across the unthinkable
void, to lure me to it, to draw me as the lodestone attracts a
particle of iron.
My longing was beyond the power of opposition; I closed my eyes,
stretched out my arms toward the god of my vocation and felt myself
drawn with the suddenness of thought through the trackless
immensity of space. There was an instant of extreme cold and utter
darkness.
Iopened my eyes upon a strange and weird landscape. I knew that
I was on Mars; not once did I question either my sanity or my
wakefulness. I was not asleep, no need for pinching here; my inner
consciousness told me as plainly that I was upon Mars as your
conscious mind tells you that you are upon Earth. You do not
question the fact; neither did I.
I found myself lying prone upon a bed of yellowish, mosslike
vegetation which stretched around me in all directions for
interminable miles. I seemed to be lying in a deep, circular basin,
along the outer verge of which I could distinguish the
irregularities of low hills.
It was midday, the sun was shining full upon me and the heat of
it was rather intense upon my naked body, yet no greater than would
have been true under similar conditions on an Arizona desert. Here
and there were slight outcroppings of quartz-bearing rock which
glistened in the sunlight; and a little to my left, perhaps a
hundred yards, appeared a low, walled enclosure about four feet in
height. No water, and no other vegetation than the moss was in
evidence, and as I was somewhat thirsty I determined to do a little
exploring.
Springing to my feet I received my first Martian surprise, for
the effort, which on Earth would have brought me standing upright,
carried me into the Martian air to the height of about three yards.
I alighted softly upon the ground, however, without appreciable
shock or jar.
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