Загублений світ
It was Dreadful in the Forest
Theairaboveitwasshimmeringwithheat,andthegroundroundwassohotthatIcouldhardlybeartolaymyhandonit.Itwasclearthatthegreatvolcanicoutburstwhichhadraisedthisstrangeplateausomanyyearsagohadnotyetentirelyspentitsforces.BlackenedrocksandmoundsoflavaIhadalreadyseeneverywherepeepingoutfromamidtheluxuriantvegetationwhichdrapedthem,butthisasphaltpoolinthejunglewasthefirstsignthatwehadofactualexistingactivityontheslopesoftheancientcrater.IhadnotimetoexamineitfurtherforIhadneedtohurryifIweretobebackincampinthemorning.
Itwasafearsomewalk,andonewhichwillbewithmesolongasmemoryholds.InthegreatmoonlightclearingsIslunkalongamongtheshadowsonthemargin.InthejungleIcreptforward,stoppingwithabeatingheartwheneverIheard,asIoftendid,thecrashofbreakingbranchesassomewildbeastwentpast.Nowandthengreatshadowsloomedupforaninstantandweregone—great,silentshadowswhichseemedtoprowluponpaddedfeet.HowoftenIstoppedwiththeintentionofreturning,andyeteverytimemyprideconqueredmyfear,andsentmeonagainuntilmyobjectshouldbeattained.
Atlast(mywatchshowedthatitwasoneinthemorning)Isawthegleamofwateramidtheopeningsofthejungle,andtenminuteslaterIwasamongthereedsuponthebordersofthecentrallake.Iwasexceedinglydry,soIlaydownandtookalongdraughtofitswaters,whichwerefreshandcold.
