The Lost Valley of Iskander | Page 5

leg, but moving with sufficient alacrity. Gordon
heard his pursuers shouting on the cliff above and behind him, heard
them crashing recklessly through stunted bushes, dislodging pebbles as
they ran, heedless of everything except their desire to sight their quarry.
Although the pursuers had one advantage, the fugitives had another.
They could follow the slightly slanting floor of the gorge more swiftly
than the others could run along the uneven cliffs, with their broken
edges and jutting ledges. They had to climb and scramble, and Gordon
heard their maledictions growing fainter in the distance behind him.
When they emerged from the further mouth of the gorge, they were far
in advance of Hunyadi's killers.
But Gordon knew that the respite was brief. He looked about him. The
narrow gorge had opened out onto a trail which ran straight along the
crest of a cliff that fell away sheer three hundred feet into a deep valley,
hemmed in on all sides by gigantic precipices. Gordon looked down
and saw a stream winding among dense trees far below, and further on,
what seemed to be stone buildings among the groves.
Bardylis pointed to the latter.
"There is my village!" he said excitedly. "If we could get into the valley
we would be safe! This trail leads to the pass at the southern end, but it
is five miles distant!"
Gordon shook his head. The trail ran straight along the top of the cliff
and afforded no cover. "They'll run us down and shoot us like rats at
long range, if we keep to this path."
"There is one other way!" cried Bardylis. "Down the cliff, at this very
point! It is a secret way, and none but a man of my people has ever
followed it, and then only when hard pressed. There are handholds cut
into the rock. Can you climb down?"

"I'll try," answered Gordon, sheathing his pistol. To try to go down
those towering cliffs looked like suicide, but it was sure death to try to
outrun Hunyadi's rifles along the trail. At any minute he expected the
Magyar and his men to break cover.
"I will go first and guide you," said Bardylis rapidly, kicking off his
sandals and letting himself over the cliff edge. Gordon did likewise and
followed him. Clinging to the sharp lip of the precipice, Gordon saw a
series of small holes pitting the rock. He began the descent slowly,
clinging like a fly to a wall. It was hair-raising work, and the only thing
that made it possible at all was the slight convex slant of the hill at that
point. Gordon had made many a desperate climb during his career, but
never one which put such strain on nerve and thew. Again and again
only the grip of a finger stood between him and death. Below him
Bardylis toiled downward, guiding and encouraging him, until the
youth finally dropped to the earth and stood looking tensely up at the
man above him.
Then he shouted, with a note of strident fear in his voice. Gordon, still
twenty feet from the bottom, craned his neck upward. High above him
he saw a bearded face peering down at him, convulsed with triumph.
Deliberately the Turk sighted downward with a pistol, then laid it aside
and caught up a heavy stone, leaning far over the edge to aim its
downward course. Clinging with toes and nails, Gordon drew and fired
upward with the same motion. Then he flattened himself desperately
against the cliff and clung on.
The man above screamed and pitched headfirst over the brink. The rock
rushed down, striking Gordon a glancing blow on the shoulder, then the
writhing body hurtled past and struck with a sickening concussion on
the earth below. A voice shouting furiously high above announced the
presence of Hunyadi at last, and Gordon slid and tumbled recklessly the
remaining distance, and, with Bardylis, ran for the shelter of the trees.
A glance backward and upward showed him Hunyadi crouching on the
cliff, leveling a rifle, but the next instant Gordon and Bardylis were out
of sight, and Hunyadi, apparently dreading an answering shot from the
trees, made a hasty retreat with the four Turks who were the survivors

of his party.

III. The Sons of Iskander
"YOU SAVED MY life when you showed me that path," said Gordon.
Bardylis smiled. "Any man of Attalus could have shown you the path,
which we call the Road of the Eagles. But only a hero could have
followed it. From what land comes my brother?"
"From the west," answered Gordon; "from the land of America, beyond
Frankistan and the sea."
Bardylis shook his head. "I have never heard of it. But come with me.
My people are yours henceforth."
As they moved through