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The Lost World
by Arthur Conan Doyle

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"It was Dreadful in the Forest"

I have said--or perhaps I have not said, for my memory plays me
sad tricks these days--that I glowed with pride when three such
men as my comrades thanked me for having saved, or at least
greatly helped, the situation. As the youngster of the party,
not merely in years, but in experience, character, knowledge, and
all that goes to make a man, I had been overshadowed from the first.
And now I was coming into my own. I warmed at the thought.
Alas! for the pride which goes before a fall! That little glow
of self-satisfaction, that added measure of self-confidence, were
to lead me on that very night to the most dreadful experience
of my life, ending with a shock which turns my heart sick when I
think of it.

It came about in this way. I had been unduly excited by the
adventure of the tree, and sleep seemed to be impossible.
Summerlee was on guard, sitting hunched over our small fire,
a quaint, angular figure, his rifle across his knees and his
pointed, goat-like beard wagging with each weary nod of his head.
Lord John lay silent, wrapped in the South American poncho which
he wore, while Challenger snored with a roll and rattle which
reverberated through the woods. The full moon was shining
brightly, and the air was crisply cold. What a night for a walk!
And then suddenly came the thought, "Why not?" Suppose I stole
softly away, suppose I made my way down to the central lake,
suppose I was back at breakfast with some record of the place--
would I not in that case be thought an even more worthy associate?
Then, if Summerlee carried the day and some means of escape were
found, we should return to London with first-hand knowledge of
the central mystery of the plateau, to which I alone, of all
men, would have penetrated. I thought of Gladys, with her "There
are heroisms all round us." I seemed to hear her voice as she
said it. I thought also of McArdle. What a three column article
for the paper! What a foundation for a career! A correspondentship
in the next great war might be within my reach. I clutched at a
gun--my pockets were full of cartridges--and, parting the thorn
bushes at the gate of our zareba, quickly slipped out. My last
glance showed me the unconscious Summerlee, most futile of
sentinels, still nodding away like a queer mechanical toy in front
of the smouldering fire.

I had not gone a hundred yards before I deeply repented my rashness.
I may have said somewhere in this chronicle that I am too
imaginative to be a really courageous man, but that I have an
overpowering fear of seeming afraid. This was the power which
now carried me onwards. I simply could not slink back with
nothing done. Even if my comrades should not have missed me, and
should never know of my weakness, there would still remain some
intolerable self-shame in my own soul. And yet I shuddered at
the position in which I found myself, and would have given all I
possessed at that moment to have been honorably free of the
whole business.

It was dreadful in the forest. The trees grew so thickly and
their foliage spread so widely that I could see nothing of the
moon-light save that here and there the high branches made a
tangled filigree against the starry sky. As the eyes became more
used to the obscurity one learned that there were different
degrees of darkness among the trees--that some were dimly
visible, while between and among them there were coal-black
shadowed patches, like the mouths of caves, from which I shrank
in horror as I passed. I thought of the despairing yell of the
tortured iguanodon--that dreadful cry which had echoed through
the woods. I thought, too, of the glimpse I had in the light of
Lord John's torch of that bloated, warty, blood-slavering muzzle.
Even now I was on its hunting-ground. At any instant it might
spring upon me from the shadows--this nameless and horrible monster.
I stopped, and, picking a cartridge from my pocket, I opened the
breech of my gun. As I touched the lever my heart leaped within me.
It was the shot-gun, not the rifle, which I had taken!

Again the impulse to return swept over me. Here, surely, was a
most excellent reason for my failure--one for which no one would
think the less of me. But again the foolish pride fought against
that very word. I could not--must not--fail. After all, my
rifle would probably have been as useless as a shot-gun against
such dangers as I might meet. If I were to go back to camp to
change my weapon I could hardly expect to enter and to leave
again without being seen. In that case there would be
explanations, and my attempt would no longer be all my own.
After a little hesitation, then, I screwed up my courage and
continued upon my way, my useless gun under my arm.

The darkness of the forest had been alarming, but even worse
was the white, still flood of moonlight in the open glade of
the iguanodons. Hid among the bushes, I looked out at it. None of
the great brutes were in sight. Perhaps the tragedy which had
befallen one of them had driven them from their feeding-ground.
In the misty, silvery night I could see no sign of any living thing.
Taking courage, therefore, I slipped rapidly across it, and among
the jungle on the farther side I picked up once again the brook
which was my guide. It was a cheery companion, gurgling and
chuckling as it ran, like the dear old trout-stream in the West
Country where I have fished at night in my boyhood. So long as
I followed it down I must come to the lake, and so long as I
followed it back I must come to the camp. Often I had to lose
sight of it on account of the tangled brush-wood, but I was always
within earshot of its tinkle and splash.

As one descended the slope the woods became thinner, and bushes,
with occasional high trees, took the place of the forest.
I could make good progress, therefore, and I could see without
being seen. I passed close to the pterodactyl swamp, and as I
did so, with a dry, crisp, leathery rattle of wings, one of
these great creatures--it was twenty feet at least from tip to
tip--rose up from somewhere near me and soared into the air.
As it passed across the face of the moon the light shone clearly
through the membranous wings, and it looked like a flying
skeleton against the white, tropical radiance. I crouched low
among the bushes, for I knew from past experience that with a
single cry the creature could bring a hundred of its loathsome
mates about my ears. It was not until it had settled again that
I dared to steal onwards upon my journey.

The night had been exceedingly still, but as I advanced I became
conscious of a low, rumbling sound, a continuous murmur,
somewhere in front of me. This grew louder as I proceeded, until
at last it was clearly quite close to me. When I stood still
the sound was constant, so that it seemed to come from some
stationary cause. It was like a boiling kettle or the bubbling
of some great pot. Soon I came upon the source of it, for in the
center of a small clearing I found a lake--or a pool, rather,
for it was not larger than the basin of the Trafalgar Square
fountain--of some black, pitch-like stuff, the surface of which
rose and fell in great blisters of bursting gas. The air above
it was shimmering with heat, and the ground round was so hot that
I could hardly bear to lay my hand on it. It was clear that the
great volcanic outburst which had raised this strange plateau so
many years ago had not yet entirely spent its forces. Blackened rocks
and mounds of lava I had already seen everywhere peeping out from
amid the luxuriant vegetation which draped them, but this asphalt
pool in the jungle was the first sign that we had of actual
existing activity on the slopes of the ancient crater. I had no
time to examine it further for I had need to hurry if I were to be
back in camp in the morning.

It was a fearsome walk, and one which will be with me so long as
memory holds. In the great moonlight clearings I slunk along
among the shadows on the margin. In the jungle I crept forward,
stopping with a beating heart whenever I heard, as I often did,
the crash of breaking branches as some wild beast went past.
Now and then great shadows loomed up for an instant and were
gone--great, silent shadows which seemed to prowl upon padded feet.
How often I stopped with the intention of returning, and yet every
time my pride conquered my fear, and sent me on again until my
object should be attained.

At last (my watch showed that it was one in the morning) I saw
the gleam of water amid the openings of the jungle, and ten
minutes later I was among the reeds upon the borders of the
central lake. I was exceedingly dry, so I lay down and took a
long draught of its waters, which were fresh and cold. There was
a broad pathway with many tracks upon it at the spot which I had
found, so that it was clearly one of the drinking-places of
the animals. Close to the water's edge there was a huge isolated
block of lava. Up this I climbed, and, lying on the top, I had
an excellent view in every direction.

The first thing which I saw filled me with amazement. When I
described the view from the summit of the great tree, I said that
on the farther cliff I could see a number of dark spots, which
appeared to be the mouths of caves. Now, as I looked up at the
same cliffs, I saw discs of light in every direction, ruddy,
clearly-defined patches, like the port-holes of a liner in
the darkness. For a moment I thought it was the lava-glow from
some volcanic action; but this could not be so. Any volcanic action
would surely be down in the hollow and not high among the rocks.
What, then, was the alternative? It was wonderful, and yet it
must surely be. These ruddy spots must be the reflection of
fires within the caves--fires which could only be lit by the
hand of man. There were human beings, then, upon the plateau.
How gloriously my expedition was justified! Here was news indeed
for us to bear back with us to London!

For a long time I lay and watched these red, quivering blotches
of light. I suppose they were ten miles off from me, yet even
at that distance one could observe how, from time to time, they
twinkled or were obscured as someone passed before them. What would
I not have given to be able to crawl up to them, to peep in, and
to take back some word to my comrades as to the appearance and
character of the race who lived in so strange a place! It was
out of the question for the moment, and yet surely we could not
leave the plateau until we had some definite knowledge upon the point.

Lake Gladys--my own lake--lay like a sheet of quicksilver before
me, with a reflected moon shining brightly in the center of it.
It was shallow, for in many places I saw low sandbanks protruding
above the water. Everywhere upon the still surface I could see
signs of life, sometimes mere rings and ripples in the water,
sometimes the gleam of a great silver-sided fish in the air,
sometimes the arched, slate-colored back of some passing monster.
Once upon a yellow sandbank I saw a creature like a huge swan,
with a clumsy body and a high, flexible neck, shuffling about
upon the margin. Presently it plunged in, and for some time I
could see the arched neck and darting head undulating over the water.
Then it dived, and I saw it no more.

My attention was soon drawn away from these distant sights and
brought back to what was going on at my very feet. Two creatures
like large armadillos had come down to the drinking-place, and
were squatting at the edge of the water, their long, flexible
tongues like red ribbons shooting in and out as they lapped.
A huge deer, with branching horns, a magnificent creature which
carried itself like a king, came down with its doe and two fawns
and drank beside the armadillos. No such deer exist anywhere
else upon earth, for the moose or elks which I have seen would
hardly have reached its shoulders. Presently it gave a warning
snort, and was off with its family among the reeds, while the
armadillos also scuttled for shelter. A new-comer, a most
monstrous animal, was coming down the path.

For a moment I wondered where I could have seen that ungainly
shape, that arched back with triangular fringes along it, that
strange bird-like head held close to the ground. Then it came
back, to me. It was the stegosaurus--the very creature which
Maple White had preserved in his sketch-book, and which had been
the first object which arrested the attention of Challenger!
There he was--perhaps the very specimen which the American artist
had encountered. The ground shook beneath his tremendous weight,
and his gulpings of water resounded through the still night.
For five minutes he was so close to my rock that by stretching out
my hand I could have touched the hideous waving hackles upon his back.
Then he lumbered away and was lost among the boulders.

Looking at my watch, I saw that it was half-past two o'clock, and
high time, therefore, that I started upon my homeward journey.
There was no difficulty about the direction in which I should
return for all along I had kept the little brook upon my left,
and it opened into the central lake within a stone's-throw of the
boulder upon which I had been lying. I set off, therefore, in
high spirits, for I felt that I had done good work and was
bringing back a fine budget of news for my companions. Foremost of
all, of course, were the sight of the fiery caves and the certainty
that some troglodytic race inhabited them. But besides that I
could speak from experience of the central lake. I could testify
that it was full of strange creatures, and I had seen several
land forms of primeval life which we had not before encountered.
I reflected as I walked that few men in the world could have spent
a stranger night or added more to human knowledge in the course of it.

I was plodding up the slope, turning these thoughts over in my
mind, and had reached a point which may have been half-way to
home, when my mind was brought back to my own position by a
strange noise behind me. It was something between a snore and
a growl, low, deep, and exceedingly menacing. Some strange
creature was evidently near me, but nothing could be seen, so I
hastened more rapidly upon my way. I had traversed half a mile
or so when suddenly the sound was repeated, still behind me, but
louder and more menacing than before. My heart stood still
within me as it flashed across me that the beast, whatever it
was, must surely be after ME. My skin grew cold and my hair
rose at the thought. That these monsters should tear each other
to pieces was a part of the strange struggle for existence,
but that they should turn upon modern man, that they should
deliberately track and hunt down the predominant human, was a
staggering and fearsome thought. I remembered again the
blood-beslobbered face which we had seen in the glare of Lord
John's torch, like some horrible vision from the deepest circle
of Dante's hell. With my knees shaking beneath me, I stood and
glared with starting eyes down the moonlit path which lay behind me.
All was quiet as in a dream landscape. Silver clearings and the
black patches of the bushes--nothing else could I see. Then from
out of the silence, imminent and threatening, there came once more
that low, throaty croaking, far louder and closer than before.
There could no longer be a doubt. Something was on my trail, and
was closing in upon me every minute.

I stood like a man paralyzed, still staring at the ground which I
had traversed. Then suddenly I saw it. There was movement among
the bushes at the far end of the clearing which I had just traversed.
A great dark shadow disengaged itself and hopped out into the clear
moonlight. I say "hopped" advisedly, for the beast moved like a
kangaroo, springing along in an erect position upon its powerful
hind legs, while its front ones were held bent in front of it.
It was of enormous size and power, like an erect elephant, but its
movements, in spite of its bulk, were exceedingly alert. For a
moment, as I saw its shape, I hoped that it was an iguanodon,
which I knew to be harmless, but, ignorant as I was, I soon saw
that this was a very different creature. Instead of the gentle,
deer-shaped head of the great three-toed leaf-eater, this beast
had a broad, squat, toad-like face like that which had alarmed us
in our camp. His ferocious cry and the horrible energy of his
pursuit both assured me that this was surely one of the great
flesh-eating dinosaurs, the most terrible beasts which have ever
walked this earth. As the huge brute loped along it dropped forward
upon its fore-paws and brought its nose to the ground every twenty
yards or so. It was smelling out my trail. Sometimes, for an
instant, it was at fault. Then it would catch it up again and
come bounding swiftly along the path I had taken.

Even now when I think of that nightmare the sweat breaks out upon
my brow. What could I do? My useless fowling-piece was in my hand.
What help could I get from that? I looked desperately round for
some rock or tree, but I was in a bushy jungle with nothing higher
than a sapling within sight, while I knew that the creature behind
me could tear down an ordinary tree as though it were a reed.
My only possible chance lay in flight. I could not move swiftly
over the rough, broken ground, but as I looked round me in despair
I saw a well-marked, hard-beaten path which ran across in front
of me. We had seen several of the sort, the runs of various wild
beasts, during our expeditions. Along this I could perhaps hold
my own, for I was a fast runner, and in excellent condition.
Flinging away my useless gun, I set myself to do such a half-mile
as I have never done before or since. My limbs ached, my chest
heaved, I felt that my throat would burst for want of air, and yet
with that horror behind me I ran and I ran and ran. At last I
paused, hardly able to move. For a moment I thought that I had
thrown him off. The path lay still behind me. And then suddenly,
with a crashing and a rending, a thudding of giant feet and a
panting of monster lungs the beast was upon me once more. He was
at my very heels. I was lost.

Madman that I was to linger so long before I fled! Up to then he
had hunted by scent, and his movement was slow. But he had
actually seen me as I started to run. From then onwards he had
hunted by sight, for the path showed him where I had gone. Now, as
he came round the curve, he was springing in great bounds.
The moonlight shone upon his huge projecting eyes, the row of
enormous teeth in his open mouth, and the gleaming fringe of
claws upon his short, powerful forearms. With a scream of terror
I turned and rushed wildly down the path. Behind me the thick,
gasping breathing of the creature sounded louder and louder.
His heavy footfall was beside me. Every instant I expected to feel
his grip upon my back. And then suddenly there came a crash--I was
falling through space, and everything beyond was darkness and rest.

As I emerged from my unconsciousness--which could not, I think,
have lasted more than a few minutes--I was aware of a most
dreadful and penetrating smell. Putting out my hand in the
darkness I came upon something which felt like a huge lump of
meat, while my other hand closed upon a large bone. Up above me
there was a circle of starlit sky, which showed me that I was
lying at the bottom of a deep pit. Slowly I staggered to my feet
and felt myself all over. I was stiff and sore from head to
foot, but there was no limb which would not move, no joint which
would not bend. As the circumstances of my fall came back into
my confused brain, I looked up in terror, expecting to see that
dreadful head silhouetted against the paling sky. There was no
sign of the monster, however, nor could I hear any sound from above.
I began to walk slowly round, therefore, feeling in every direction
to find out what this strange place could be into which I had been
so opportunely precipitated.

It was, as I have said, a pit, with sharply-sloping walls and a
level bottom about twenty feet across. This bottom was littered
with great gobbets of flesh, most of which was in the last state
of putridity. The atmosphere was poisonous and horrible.
After tripping and stumbling over these lumps of decay, I came
suddenly against something hard, and I found that an upright post
was firmly fixed in the center of the hollow. It was so high that
I could not reach the top of it with my hand, and it appeared to be
covered with grease.

Suddenly I remembered that I had a tin box of wax-vestas in
my pocket. Striking one of them, I was able at last to form some
opinion of this place into which I had fallen. There could be no
question as to its nature. It was a trap--made by the hand of man.
The post in the center, some nine feet long, was sharpened
at the upper end, and was black with the stale blood of the
creatures who had been impaled upon it. The remains scattered
about were fragments of the victims, which had been cut away in
order to clear the stake for the next who might blunder in.
I remembered that Challenger had declared that man could not exist
upon the plateau, since with his feeble weapons he could not hold
his own against the monsters who roamed over it. But now it was
clear enough how it could be done. In their narrow-mouthed caves
the natives, whoever they might be, had refuges into which the
huge saurians could not penetrate, while with their developed
brains they were capable of setting such traps, covered with
branches, across the paths which marked the run of the animals as
would destroy them in spite of all their strength and activity.
Man was always the master.

The sloping wall of the pit was not difficult for an active man
to climb, but I hesitated long before I trusted myself within
reach of the dreadful creature which had so nearly destroyed me.
How did I know that he was not lurking in the nearest clump of
bushes, waiting for my reappearance? I took heart, however, as I
recalled a conversation between Challenger and Summerlee upon the
habits of the great saurians. Both were agreed that the monsters
were practically brainless, that there was no room for reason in
their tiny cranial cavities, and that if they have disappeared
from the rest of the world it was assuredly on account of their
own stupidity, which made it impossible for them to adapt
themselves to changing conditions.

To lie in wait for me now would mean that the creature had
appreciated what had happened to me, and this in turn would argue
some power connecting cause and effect. Surely it was more
likely that a brainless creature, acting solely by vague
predatory instinct, would give up the chase when I disappeared,
and, after a pause of astonishment, would wander away in search
of some other prey? I clambered to the edge of the pit and
looked over. The stars were fading, the sky was whitening, and
the cold wind of morning blew pleasantly upon my face. I could
see or hear nothing of my enemy. Slowly I climbed out and sat for
a while upon the ground, ready to spring back into my refuge if any
danger should appear. Then, reassured by the absolute stillness
and by the growing light, I took my courage in both hands and
stole back along the path which I had come. Some distance down
it I picked up my gun, and shortly afterwards struck the brook
which was my guide. So, with many a frightened backward glance,
I made for home.

And suddenly there came something to remind me of my absent companions.
In the clear, still morning air there sounded far away the sharp,
hard note of a single rifle-shot. I paused and listened, but
there was nothing more. For a moment I was shocked at the thought
that some sudden danger might have befallen them. But then a
simpler and more natural explanation came to my mind. It was now
broad daylight. No doubt my absence had been noticed. They had
imagined, that I was lost in the woods, and had fired this shot
to guide me home. It is true that we had made a strict resolution
against firing, but if it seemed to them that I might be in danger
they would not hesitate. It was for me now to hurry on as fast as
possible, and so to reassure them.

I was weary and spent, so my progress was not so fast as I
wished; but at last I came into regions which I knew. There was
the swamp of the pterodactyls upon my left; there in front of me
was the glade of the iguanodons. Now I was in the last belt of
trees which separated me from Fort Challenger. I raised my voice
in a cheery shout to allay their fears. No answering greeting
came back to me. My heart sank at that ominous stillness.
I quickened my pace into a run. The zareba rose before me, even
as I had left it, but the gate was open. I rushed in. In the cold,
morning light it was a fearful sight which met my eyes. Our effects
were scattered in wild confusion over the ground; my comrades had
disappeared, and close to the smouldering ashes of our fire the
grass was stained crimson with a hideous pool of blood.

I was so stunned by this sudden shock that for a time I must
have nearly lost my reason. I have a vague recollection, as
one remembers a bad dream, of rushing about through the woods
all round the empty camp, calling wildly for my companions.
No answer came back from the silent shadows. The horrible
thought that I might never see them again, that I might find
myself abandoned all alone in that dreadful place, with no
possible way of descending into the world below, that I might
live and die in that nightmare country, drove me to desperation.
I could have torn my hair and beaten my head in my despair.
Only now did I realize how I had learned to lean upon my
companions, upon the serene self-confidence of Challenger,
and upon the masterful, humorous coolness of Lord John Roxton.
Without them I was like a child in the dark, helpless and powerless.
I did not know which way to turn or what I should do first.

After a period, during which I sat in bewilderment, I set myself
to try and discover what sudden misfortune could have befallen
my companions. The whole disordered appearance of the camp
showed that there had been some sort of attack, and the rifle-
shot no doubt marked the time when it had occurred. That there
should have been only one shot showed that it had been all over
in an instant. The rifles still lay upon the ground, and one
of them--Lord John's--had the empty cartridge in the breech.
The blankets of Challenger and of Summerlee beside the fire
suggested that they had been asleep at the time. The cases of
ammunition and of food were scattered about in a wild litter,
together with our unfortunate cameras and plate-carriers, but
none of them were missing. On the other hand, all the exposed
provisions--and I remembered that there were a considerable
quantity of them--were gone. They were animals, then, and not
natives, who had made the inroad, for surely the latter would
have left nothing behind.

But if animals, or some single terrible animal, then what had
become of my comrades? A ferocious beast would surely have
destroyed them and left their remains. It is true that there was
that one hideous pool of blood, which told of violence. Such a
monster as had pursued me during the night could have carried
away a victim as easily as a cat would a mouse. In that case the
others would have followed in pursuit. But then they would
assuredly have taken their rifles with them. The more I tried to
think it out with my confused and weary brain the less could I
find any plausible explanation. I searched round in the forest,
but could see no tracks which could help me to a conclusion.
Once I lost myself, and it was only by good luck, and after an
hour of wandering, that I found the camp once more.

Suddenly a thought came to me and brought some little comfort to
my heart. I was not absolutely alone in the world. Down at the
bottom of the cliff, and within call of me, was waiting the
faithful Zambo. I went to the edge of the plateau and looked over.
Sure enough, he was squatting among his blankets beside his fire
in his little camp. But, to my amazement, a second man was seated
in front of him. For an instant my heart leaped for joy, as I
thought that one of my comrades had made his way safely down.
But a second glance dispelled the hope. The rising sun shone
red upon the man's skin. He was an Indian. I shouted loudly
and waved my handkerchief. Presently Zambo looked up, waved his
hand, and turned to ascend the pinnacle. In a short time he was
standing close to me and listening with deep distress to the story
which I told him.

"Devil got them for sure, Massa Malone," said he. "You got
into the devil's country, sah, and he take you all to himself.
You take advice, Massa Malone, and come down quick, else he get
you as well."

"How can I come down, Zambo?"

"You get creepers from trees, Massa Malone. Throw them over here.
I make fast to this stump, and so you have bridge."

"We have thought of that. There are no creepers here which could
bear us."

"Send for ropes, Massa Malone."

"Who can I send, and where?"

"Send to Indian villages, sah. Plenty hide rope in Indian village.
Indian down below; send him."

"Who is he?

"One of our Indians. Other ones beat him and take away his pay.
He come back to us. Ready now to take letter, bring rope,--anything."

To take a letter! Why not? Perhaps he might bring help; but
in any case he would ensure that our lives were not spent for
nothing, and that news of all that we had won for Science
should reach our friends at home. I had two completed letters
already waiting. I would spend the day in writing a third, which
would bring my experiences absolutely up to date. The Indian could
bear this back to the world. I ordered Zambo, therefore, to come
again in the evening, and I spent my miserable and lonely day in
recording my own adventures of the night before. I also drew up
a note, to be given to any white merchant or captain of a
steam-boat whom the Indian could find, imploring them to see that
ropes were sent to us, since our lives must depend upon it.
These documents I threw to Zambo in the evening, and also my
purse, which contained three English sovereigns. These were to
be given to the Indian, and he was promised twice as much if he
returned with the ropes.

So now you will understand, my dear Mr. McArdle, how this
communication reaches you, and you will also know the truth, in
case you never hear again from your unfortunate correspondent.
To-night I am too weary and too depressed to make my plans.
To-morrow I must think out some way by which I shall keep in
touch with this camp, and yet search round for any traces of my
unhappy friends.



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Warner Robins, GA, USA