‘Listen, I don’t want to do any of that cultural stuff,” my dad, John, said, as we planned our trip to Amsterdam, “I just want to get baked.” I had gone but a short distance further when what seemed to be an excellent trail opened up around the face of a high cliff. The trail […]
‘Listen, I don’t want to do any of that cultural stuff,” my dad, John, said, as we planned our trip to Amsterdam, “I just want to get baked.” I had gone but a short distance further when what seemed to be an excellent trail opened up around the face of a high cliff. The trail was level and quite broad and led upward and in the general direction I wished to go. The cliff arose for several hundred feet on my right, and on my left was an equal and nearly perpendicular drop to the bottom of a rocky ravine. Dismounting, I laid Powell upon the ground, but the most painstaking examination failed to reveal the faintest spark of life. I forced water from my canteen between his dead lips, bathed his face and rubbed his hands, working over him continuously for the better part of an hour in the face of the fact that I knew him to be dead. I was very fond of Powell; he was thoroughly a man in every respect; a polished southern gentleman; a staunch and true friend; and it was with a feeling of the deepest grief that I finally gave up my crude endeavors at resuscitation. Leaving Powell's body where it lay on the ledge I crept into the cave to reconnoiter. I found a large chamber, possibly a hundred feet in diameter and thirty or forty feet in height; a smooth and well-worn floor, and many other evidences that the cave had, at some remote period, been inhabited. The back of the cave was so lost in dense shadow that I could not distinguish whether there were openings into other apartments or not. It is the custom of the Mahars to liberate those who remain alive within the arena after the beasts depart or are killed. Thus it has happened that several mighty warriors from far distant lands, whom we have captured on our slave raids, have battled the brutes turned in upon them and slain them, thereby winning their freedom. In the instance which you witnessed the beasts killed each other, but the result was the same—the man and woman were liberated, furnished with weapons, and started on their homeward journey. The chances are that ere long you will know much more about it than I," and he grinned as he spoke. The Sagoths have a well-developed sense of humor. "And suppose it is the arena," I continued; "what then?" "You saw the two who met the tarag and the thag the time that you escaped?" he said. "Yes." "Your end in the arena would be similar to what was intended for them," he explained, "though of course the same kinds of animals might not be employed." "It is sure death in either event?" I asked.