Загублений світ
It was Dreadful in the Forest
AsIemergedfrommyunconsciousness—whichcouldnot,Ithink,havelastedmorethanafewminutes—Iwasawareofamostdreadfulandpenetratingsmell.PuttingoutmyhandinthedarknessIcameuponsomethingwhichfeltlikeahugelumpofmeat,whilemyotherhandcloseduponalargebone.Upabovemetherewasacircleofstarlitsky,whichshowedmethatIwaslyingatthebottomofadeeppit.SlowlyIstaggeredtomyfeetandfeltmyselfallover.Iwasstiffandsorefromheadtofoot,buttherewasnolimbwhichwouldnotmove,nojointwhichwouldnotbend.Asthecircumstancesofmyfallcamebackintomyconfusedbrain,Ilookedupinterror,expectingtoseethatdreadfulheadsilhouettedagainstthepalingsky.Therewasnosignofthemonster,however,norcouldIhearanysoundfromabove.Ibegantowalkslowlyround,therefore,feelingineverydirectiontofindoutwhatthisstrangeplacecouldbeintowhichIhadbeensoopportunelyprecipitated.
Itwas,asIhavesaid,apit,withsharply-slopingwallsandalevelbottomabouttwentyfeetacross.Thisbottomwaslitteredwithgreatgobbetsofflesh,mostofwhichwasinthelaststateofputridity.Theatmospherewaspoisonousandhorrible.Aftertrippingandstumblingovertheselumpsofdecay,Icamesuddenlyagainstsomethinghard,andIfoundthatanuprightpostwasfirmlyfixedinthecenterofthehollow.ItwassohighthatIcouldnotreachthetopofitwithmyhand,anditappearedtobecoveredwithgrease.
