Herland | Page 6

Naturally I did myself. I knew the stuff that savage dreams
are
made of.

But when we had reached our farthest point, just the day
before we all had to turn around and start for home again, as
the
best of expeditions must in time, we three made a discovery.

The main encampment was on a spit of land running out into
the main stream, or what we thought was the main stream. It
had
the same muddy color we had been seeing for weeks past, the
same taste.

I happened to speak of that river to our last guide, a rather
superior fellow with quick, bright eyes.

H e told me that there was another river--"over there, short
river, sweet water, red and blue."

I was interested in this and anxious to see if I had
understood,
so I showed him a red and blue pencil I carried, and asked again.

Yes, he pointed to the river, and then to the southwestward.
"River--good water--red and blue."

Terry was close by and interested in the fellow's pointing.

"What does he say, Van?"

I told him.

Terry blazed up at once.

"Ask him how far it is."

The man indicated a short journey; I judged about two hours,
maybe three.

"Let's go," urged Terry. "Just us three. Maybe we can
really
find something. May be cinnabar in it."

"May be indigo," Jeff suggested, with his lazy smile.

I t was early yet; we had just breakfasted; and leaving word
that we'd be back before night, we got away quietly, not wishing
to be thought too gullible if we failed, and secretly hoping
to
have some nice little discovery all to ourselves.

It was a long two hours, nearer three. I fancy the savage
could
have done it alone much quicker. There was a desperate tangle
of wood and water and a swampy patch we never should have
found our way across alone. But there was one, and I could
see
Terry, with compass and notebook, marking directions and trying
to place landmarks.

We came after a while to a sort of marshy lake, very big,
so
that the circling forest looked quite low and dim across it.
Our
guide told us that boats could go from there to our camp--but
"long way--all day."

This water was somewhat clearer than that we had left, but
we could not judge well from the margin. We skirted it for
another half hour or so, the ground growing firmer as we
advanced, and presently we turned the corner of a wooded
promontory and saw a quite different country--a sudden view
of mountains, steep and bare.

"One of those long easterly spurs," Terry said appraisingly.
"May be hundreds of miles from the range. They crop out like
that."

Suddenly we left the lake and struck directly toward the
cliffs. We heard running