The Master of the World | Page 6

been an earthquake, the terrified people saw
that at least their houses had not crumbled beneath the shock. It was possible that the
uproar had been caused by an avalanche, the fall of some mighty rock from the summit of
the mountains.
An hour passed without other incident. A wind from the west sweeping over the long
chain of the Blueridge, set the pines and hemlocks wailing on the higher slopes. There
seemed no new cause for panic; and folk began to return to their houses. All, however,
awaited impatiently the return of day.
Then suddenly, toward three o'clock in the morning, another alarm! Flames leaped up
above the rocky wall of the Great Eyrie. Reflected from the clouds, they illuminated the
atmosphere for a great distance. A crackling, as if of many burning trees, was heard.
Had a fire spontaneously broken out? And to what cause was it due? Lightning could not
have started the conflagration; for no thunder had been heard. True, there was plenty of
material for fire; at this height the chain of the Blueridge is well wooded. But these
flames were too sudden for any ordinary cause.

"An eruption! An eruption!"
The cry resounded from all sides. An eruption! The Great Eyrie was then indeed the
crater of a volcano buried in the bowels of the mountains. And after so many years, so
many ages even, had it reawakened? Added to the flames, was a rain of stones and ashes
about to follow? Were the lavas going to pour down torrents of molten fire, destroying
everything in their passage, annihilating the towns, the villages, the farms, all this
beautiful world of meadows, fields and forests, even as far as Pleasant Garden and
Morganton?
This time the panic was overwhelming; nothing could stop it. Women carrying their
infants, crazed with terror, rushed along the eastward roads. Men, deserting their homes,
made hurried bundles of their most precious belongings and set free their livestock, cows,
sheep, pigs, which fled in all directions. What disorder resulted from this agglomeration,
human and animal, under darkest night, amid forests, threatened by the fires of the
volcano, along the border of marshes whose waters might be upheaved and overflow!
With the earth itself threatening to disappear from under the feet of the fugitives! Would
they be in time to save themselves, if a cascade of glowing lava came rolling down the
slope of the mountain across their route?
Nevertheless, some of the chief and shrewder farm owners were not swept away in this
mad flight, which they did their best to restrain. Venturing within a mile of the mountain,
they saw that the glare of the flames was decreasing. In truth it hardly seemed that the
region was immediately menaced by any further upheaval. No stones were being hurled
into space; no torrent of lava was visible upon the slopes; no rumblings rose from the
ground. There was no further manifestation of any seismic disturbance capable of
overwhelming the land.
At length, the flight of the fugitives ceased at a distance where they seemed secure from
all danger. Then a few ventured back toward the mountain. Some farms were reoccupied
before the break of day.
By morning the crests of the Great Eyrie showed scarcely the least remnant of its cloud of
smoke. The fires were certainly at an end; and if it were impossible to determine their
cause, one might at least hope that they would not break out again.
It appeared possible that the Great Eyrie had not really been the theater of volcanic
phenomena at all. There was no further evidence that the neighborhood was at the mercy
either of eruptions or of earthquakes.
Yet once more about five o'clock, from beneath the ridge of the mountain, where the
shadows of night still lingered, a strange noise swept across the air, a sort of whirring,
accompanied by the beating of mighty wings. And had it been a clear day, perhaps the
farmers would have seen the passage of a mighty bird of prey, some monster of the skies,
which having risen from the Great Eyrie sped away toward the east.
Chapter 2

I REACH MORGANTON

The twenty-seventh of April, having left Washington the night before, I arrived at
Raleigh, the capital of the State of North Carolina.
Two days before, the head of the federal police had called me to his room. He was
awaiting me with some impatience." John Strock," said he, "are you still the man who on
so many occasions has proven to me both his devotion and his ability?"
"Mr. Ward," I answered, with a bow, "I cannot promise success or even ability, but as to
devotion, I assure you, it is yours."
"I do not doubt it," responded the chief. "And I will ask