Загублений світ
Our Eyes have seen Great Wonders
Inaminutetheywerefeatheredwiththem,andyetwithnosignofpaintheyclawedandslobberedwithimpotentrageatthestepswhichwouldleadthemtotheirvictims,mountingclumsilyupforafewyardsandthenslidingdownagaintotheground.Butatlastthepoisonworked.Oneofthemgaveadeeprumblinggroananddroppedhishugesquatheadontotheearth.Theotherboundedroundinaneccentriccirclewithshrill,wailingcries,andthenlyingdownwrithedinagonyforsomeminutesbeforeitalsostiffenedandlaystill.WithyellsoftriumphtheIndianscameflockingdownfromtheircavesanddancedafrenzieddanceofvictoryroundthedeadbodies,inmadjoythattwomoreofthemostdangerousofalltheirenemieshadbeenslain.Thatnighttheycutupandremovedthebodies,nottoeat—forthepoisonwasstillactive—butlesttheyshouldbreedapestilence.Thegreatreptilianhearts,however,eachaslargeasacushion,stilllaythere,beatingslowlyandsteadily,withagentleriseandfall,inhorribleindependentlife.Itwasonlyuponthethirddaythatthegangliarandownandthedreadfulthingswerestill.
Someday,whenIhaveabetterdeskthanameat-tinandmorehelpfultoolsthanawornstubofpencilandalast,tatterednote-book,IwillwritesomefulleraccountoftheAccalaIndians—ofourlifeamongstthem,andoftheglimpseswhichwehadofthestrangeconditionsofwondrousMapleWhiteLand.
