Pellucidar Read online

  Ten minutes after reading this letter I had cabled Mr. Nestor asfollows:

  Story true. Await me Algiers.

  As fast as train and boat would carry me, I sped toward my destination.For all those dragging days my mind was a whirl of mad conjecture, offrantic hope, of numbing fear.

  The finding of the telegraph-instrument practically assured me thatDavid Innes had driven Perry's iron mole back through the earth's crustto the buried world of Pellucidar; but what adventures had befallen himsince his return?

  Had he found Dian the Beautiful, his half-savage mate, safe among hisfriends, or had Hooja the Sly One succeeded in his nefarious schemes toabduct her?

  Did Abner Perry, the lovable old inventor and paleontologist, stilllive?

  Had the federated tribes of Pellucidar succeeded in overthrowing themighty Mahars, the dominant race of reptilian monsters, and theirfierce, gorilla-like soldiery, the savage Sagoths?

  I must admit that I was in a state bordering upon nervous prostrationwhen I entered the ---- and ---- Club, in Algiers, and inquired for Mr.Nestor. A moment later I was ushered into his presence, to find myselfclasping hands with the sort of chap that the world holds only too fewof.

  He was a tall, smooth-faced man of about thirty, clean-cut, straight,and strong, and weather-tanned to the hue of a desert Arab. I likedhim immensely from the first, and I hope that after our three monthstogether in the desert country--three months not entirely lacking inadventure--he found that a man may be a writer of "impossible trash"and yet have some redeeming qualities.

  The day following my arrival at Algiers we left for the south, Nestorhaving made all arrangements in advance, guessing, as he naturally did,that I could be coming to Africa for but a single purpose--to hasten atonce to the buried telegraph-instrument and wrest its secret from it.

  In addition to our native servants, we took along an Englishtelegraph-operator named Frank Downes. Nothing of interest enlivenedour journey by rail and caravan till we came to the cluster ofdate-palms about the ancient well upon the rim of the Sahara.

  It was the very spot at which I first had seen David Innes. If he hadever raised a cairn above the telegraph instrument no sign of itremained now. Had it not been for the chance that caused Cogdon Nestorto throw down his sleeping rug directly over the hidden instrument, itmight still be clicking there unheard--and this story still unwritten.

  When we reached the spot and unearthed the little box the instrumentwas quiet, nor did repeated attempts upon the part of our telegraphersucceed in winning a response from the other end of the line. Afterseveral days of futile endeavor to raise Pellucidar, we had begun todespair. I was as positive that the other end of that little cableprotruded through the surface of the inner world as I am that I sithere today in my study--when about midnight of the fourth day I wasawakened by the sound of the instrument.

  Leaping to my feet I grasped Downes roughly by the neck and dragged himout of his blankets. He didn't need to be told what caused myexcitement, for the instant he was awake he, too, heard the long-hopedfor click, and with a whoop of delight pounced upon the instrument.

  Nestor was on his feet almost as soon as I. The three of us huddledabout that little box as if our lives depended upon the message it hadfor us.

  Downes interrupted the clicking with his sending-key. The noise of thereceiver stopped instantly.

  "Ask who it is, Downes," I directed.

  He did so, and while we awaited the Englishman's translation of thereply, I doubt if either Nestor or I breathed.

  "He says he's David Innes," said Downes. "He wants to know who we are."

  "Tell him," said I; "and that we want to know how he is--and all thathas befallen him since I last saw him."

  For two months I talked with David Innes almost every day, and asDownes translated, either Nestor or I took notes. From these, arrangedin chronological order, I have set down the following account of thefurther adventures of David Innes at the earth's core, practically inhis own words.