_A strange manuscript found in a copper cylinder_
          (the sixteenth installment)

   from _Harper's weekly_ (1888-apr-21) 
           (by James De Mille)


Chapter XXIV.  RECAPTURE  (continued)

At last our interview was terminated.  Layelah came and
informed us that all was ready for our departure.  We walked
sadly to the place, and found the athalebs crouched to
receive their riders.  There were four beside ours.  Layelah
informed me that I was to go with her, and Almah was to go
on another athaleb.  I entreated her to let Almah go with
me; but she declined, saying that our athaleb could only
carry two, as he seemed fatigued, and it would not be safe
to overload him for so long a flight.  I told her that Almah
and I could go together on the same athaleb; but she
objected on the ground of my ignorance of driving.  And so,
remonstrances and objections being alike useless, I was
compelled to yield to the arrangements that had been made. 
Almah mounted on another athaleb.  I mounted with Layelah,
and then the great monsters expanded their mighty wings,
rose into the air, and soon were speeding over the waters.

  We went on in silence for some time.  I was too despondent
to say a word, and all my thoughts turned toward Almah, who
was now separated from me--perhaps forever.  The other
athalebs went ahead, at long intervals apart, flying in a
straight line, while ours was last.  Layelah said nothing. 
She sat in front of me; her back was turned toward me; she
held in her hands the reins, which hung quite loose at
first, but after a while she drew them up, and seemed to be
directing our course.  For some time I did not notice
anything in particular, for my eyes were fixed upon the
athaleb immediately before us, upon which was seated the
loved form of Almah, which I could easily recognize.  But
our athaleb flew slowly, and I noticed that we were falling
behind.  I said this to Layelah, but she only remarked that
it was fatigued with its long journey.  To this I objected
that the others had made as long a journey, and insisted
that she should draw nearer.  This she at first refused to
do; but at length, as I grew persistent, she complied, or
pretended to do so.  In spite of this, however, we again
fell behind, and I noticed that this always happened when
the reins were drawn tight.  On making this discovery I
suddenly seized both reins and let them trail loose,
whereupon the athaleb at once showed a perceptible increase
of speed, which proved that there was no fatigue in him
whatever.  This I said to Layelah.

  She acquiesced with a sweet smile, and taking the reins
again, she sat around so as to face me, and said:

  "You are very quick.  It is no use to try to deceive you,
Atam-or: I wish to fall behind."

  "Why?"

  "To save you."

  "To save me?"

  "Yes.  I can take you to the land of the Orin.  Now is the
time to escape from death.  If you go back you must surely
die; but now, if you will be guided by me, I can take you to
the land of the Orin.  There they all hate death, they love
life, they live in the light.  There you will find those who
are like yourself; there you can love and be happy."

  "But what of Almah?" I asked.

  Layelah made a pretty gesture of despair.

  "You are always talking of Almah," said she.  "What is
Almah to you?  She is cold, dull, sad!  She never will
speak.  Let her go."

  "Never!" said I.  "Almah is worth more than all the world
to me."

  Layelah sighed.

  "I can never, never, never," said she, "get from you the
least little bit of a kind word--even after all that I have
done for you, and when you know that I would lie down and
let you trample me under your feet if it gave you any
pleasure."

  "Oh, that is not the question at all," said I.  "You are
asking me to leave Almah--to be false to her--and I cannot."

  "Among the Kosekin," said Layelah, "it is the highest
happiness for lovers to give one another up."

  "I am not one of the Kosekin," said I.  "I cannot let her
go away--I cannot let her go back to the amir--to meet death
alone.  If she dies she shall see me by her side, ready to
die with her."

  At this Layelah laughed merrily.

  "Is it possible," said she, "that you believe that?  Do
you not know that if Almah goes back alone she will not
die?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why, she can only die when you are in her company.  She
has lived for years among us, and we have waited for someone
to appear whom she might love, so that we might give them
both the blessing of death.  If that one should leave her,
Almah could not receive the blessing.  She would be
compelled to live longer, until some other lover should
appear.  Now, by going with me to the land of the Orin, you
will save Almah's life--and as for Almah, why, she will be
happy--and dear papa is quite willing to marry her.  You
must see, therefore, dear Atam-or, that my plan is the very
best that can be thought of for all of us, and above all for
Almah."

  This, however, was intolerable; and I could not consent to
desert Almah, even if by doing so I should save her life. 
My own nature revolted from it.  Still it was not a thing
which I could dismiss on the instant.  The safety of Almah's
life, indeed, required consideration; but then the thought
came of her wonder at my desertion.  Would she not think me
false?  Would not the thought of my falsity be worse than
death?

  "No," said I, "I will not leave her--not even to save her
life.  Even among us there are things worse than death. 
Almah would rather die by the sacrificial knife than linger
on with a broken heart."

  "Oh no," said Layelah, sweetly; "she will rejoice that you
are safe.  Do you not see that while you are together death
is inevitable, but if you separate you may both live and be
happy?"

  "But she will think me dead," said I, as a new idea
occurred.  "She will think that some accident has befallen
me."

  "Oh no, she won't," said Layelah; "she will think that you
have gone off with me."

  "Then that will be worse, and I would rather die, and have
her die with me, than live and have her think me false."

  "You are very, very obstinate," said Layelah, sweetly.

  I made no reply.  During this conversation I had been too
intent upon Layelah's words to notice the athalebs before
me; but now as I looked up I saw that we had fallen far
behind, and that Layelah had headed our athaleb in a new
direction.  Upon this I once more snatched the reins from
her, and tried to return to our former course.  This,
however, I was utterly unable to do.

  Layelah laughed.

  "You will have to let me guide our course," said she. 
"You can do nothing.  The athaleb will now go in a straight
line to the land of the Orin."

  Upon this I started up in wild excitement.

  "Never, never, never!" I cried, in a fury.  "I will not; I
will destroy this athaleb and perish in the water!"

  As I said this I raised my rifle.

  "What are you going to do?" cried Layelah, in accents of
fear.

  "Turn back," I cried, "or I will kill this athaleb!"

  Upon this Layelah dropped the reins, stood up, and looked
at me with a smile.

  "Oh, Atam-or," said she, "what a thing to ask!  How can I
go back now, when we have started for the land of the Orin?"

  "We shall never reach the land of the Orin," I cried; "we
shall perish in the sea!"

  "Oh no," said Layelah; "you cannot kill the athaleb.  You
are no more than an insect; your rod is a weak thing, and
will break on his iron frame."

  It was evident that Layelah had not the slightest idea of
the powers of my rifle.  There was no hesitation on my part.

I took aim with the rifle.  At that moment I was desperate. 
I thought of nothing but the swift flight of the athaleb,
which was bearing me away forever from Almah.  I could not
endure that thought, and still less could I endure the
thought that she should believe me false.  It was therefore
in a wild passion of rage and despair that I levelled my
rifle, taking aim as well as I could at what seemed a vital
part under the wing.  The motion of the wing rendered this
difficult, however, and I hesitated a moment, so as to make
sure.  All this time Layelah stood looking at me with a
smile on her rosy lips and a merry twinkle in her
eyes--evidently regarding my words as empty threats and my
act as a vain pretence, and utterly unprepared for what was
to follow.

  Suddenly I fired both barrels in quick succession.  The
reports rang out in thunder over the sea.  The athaleb gave
a wild, appalling shriek, and fell straight down into the
water, fluttering vainly with one wing, while the other hung
down useless.  A shriek of horror burst from Layelah.  She
started back, and fell from her standing-place into the
waves beneath.  The next instant we were all in the water
together--the athaleb writhing and lashing the water into
foam, while I involuntarily clung to his coarse mane, and
expected death every moment.

  But death did not come; for the athaleb did not sink, but
floated with his back out of the water, the right pinion
being sunk underneath and useless, and the left struggling
vainly with the sea.  But after a time he folded up the left
wing and drew it close in to his side, and propelled himself
with his long hind-legs.  His right wing was broken, but he
did not seem to have suffered any other injury.

  Suddenly I heard a cry behind me:

  "Atam-or! oh, Atam-or!"

  I looked around and saw Layelah.  She was swimming in the
water, and seemed exhausted.  In the agitation of the past
few moments I had lost sight of her, and had thought that
she was drowned; but now the sight of her roused me from my
stupor and brought me back to myself.  She was swimming, yet
her strokes were weak and her face was full of despair.  In
an instant I had flung off my coat, rolled up the rifle and
pistol in its folds, and sprung into the water.  A few
strokes brought me to Layelah.  A moment more and I should
have been too late.  I held her head out of water, told her
not to struggle, and then struck out to go back.  It would
have been impossible for me to do this, encumbered with such
a load, had I not fortunately perceived the floating wing of
the athaleb close beside me.  This I seized, and by means of
it drew myself with Layelah alongside; after which I
succeeded in putting her on the back of the animal, and soon
followed myself.

  The terror of the rifle had overwhelmed her, and the
suddenness of the catastrophe had almost killed her.  She
had struggled in the water for a long time, and had called
to me in vain.  Now she was quite exhausted, and lay in my
arms trembling and sobbing.  I spoke to her encouragingly,
and wrapped her in my coat, and rubbed her hands and feet,
until at last she began to recover.  Then she wept quietly
for a long time; then the weeping fit passed away.  She
looked up with a smile, and in her face there was
unutterable gratitude.

  "Atam-or," said she, "I never loved death like the rest of
the Kosekin; but now--but now--I feel that death with you
would be sweet."

  Then tears came to her eyes, and I found tears coming to
my own, so that I had to stoop down and kiss away the tears
of Layelah.  As I did so she twined both her arms around my
neck, held me close to her, and sighed.

  "Oh, Atam-or, death with you is sweet!  And now you cannot
reproach me--You have done this yourself, with your terrible
power; and you have saved my life to let me die with you. 
You do not hate me, then, Atam-or, do you?  Just speak once
to a poor little girl, and say that you do not hate her!"

  All this was very pitiable.  What man that had a heart in
his breast could listen unmoved to words like these, or look
without emotion upon one so beautiful, so gentle, and so
tender?  It was no longer Layelah in triumph with whom I had
to do, but Layelah in distress: the light banter, the
teasing, mocking smile, the kindling eye, the ready laugh,
all were gone.  There was nothing now but mournful
tenderness--the timid appeal of one who dreaded a repulse,
the glance of deep affection, the abandonment of love.

  I held Layelah in my arms, and I thought of nothing now
but words of consolation for her.  Life seemed over; death
seemed inevitable; and there, on the back of the athaleb, we
floated on the waters and waited for our doom.


CHAPTER XXV  FALLING, LIKE ICARUS, INTO THE SEA

THE aurora light, which had flamed brightly, was now
extinct, and darkness was upon the face of the deep, where
we floated on the back of the monster.  He swam, forcing
himself onward with his hind-legs, with one broad wing
folded up close.  Had both been folded up the athaleb could
have swum rapidly; but the broken wing lay expanded over the
water, tossing with the waves, so that our progress was but
slight.  Had it not been for this, the athaleb's own
instinct might have served to guide him toward some shore
which we might have hoped to reach before life was extinct;
but as it was, all thought of reaching any shore was out of
the question, and there arose before us only the prospect of
death--a death, too, which must be lingering and painful and
cruel.  Thus amid the darkness we floated, and the waves
dashed around us, and the athaleb never ceased to struggle
in the water, trying to force his way onward.  It seemed
sweet at that moment to have Layelah with me, for what could
have been more horrible than loneliness amid those black
waters? and Layelah's mind was made up to meet death with
joy, so that her mood conveyed itself to me.  And I thought
that since death was inevitable it were better to meet it
thus, and in this way end my life--not amid the horrors of
the sacrifice and the _Mista Kosek_, but in a way which
seemed natural to a seafaring man like myself, and with
which I had long familiarized my thoughts.  For I had fallen
upon a world and among people which were all alien and
unintelligible to me; and to live on would only open the way
to new and worse calamities.  There was peace also in the
thought that my death would snatch the prospect of death
from Almah.  She would now be safe.  It was only when we
were together as lovers that death threatened her; but now
since I was removed she could resume her former life, and
she might remember me only as an episode in that life.  That
she would remember me I felt sure, and that she would weep
for me and mourn after me was undeniable; but time as it
passed would surely alleviate that grief, and Almah would
live and be happy.  Perhaps she might yet regain her native
land and rejoin her loved kindred, whom she would tell of
the stranger from an unknown shore who had loved her, and
through whose death she had gained her life.  Such were the
thoughts that filled my mind as I floated over the black
water with darkness all around, as I held Layelah in my
arms, with my coat wrapped around her, and murmured in her
ear tender words of consolation and sympathy.

  A long, long time had passed--but how long I know
not--when suddenly Layelah gave a cry, and started up on her
knees, with her head bent forward listening intently.  I too
listened, and I could distinctly hear the sound of breakers.

It was evident that we were approaching some shore; and,
from what I remembered of the shore of Magones, such a shore
meant death, and death alone.  We stood up and tried to peer
through the gloom.  At length we saw a whole line of
breakers, and beyond all was black.  We waited anxiously in
that position, and drew steadily nearer.  It was evident
that the athaleb was desirous of reaching that shore, and we
could do nothing but await the result.

  But the athaleb had his wits about him, and swam along on
a line with the breakers for some distance, until at length
an opening appeared, into which he directed his course. 
Passing through this we reached still water, which seemed
like a lagoon surrounded by a coral reef.  The athaleb swam
on farther, and at length we saw before us an island with a
broad, sandy beach, beyond which was the shadowy outline of
a forest.  Here the monster landed, and dragged himself
wearily upon the sand, where he spread his vast bulk out,
and lay panting heavily.  We dismounted--I first, so as to
assist Layelah; and then it seemed as if death were
postponed for a time, since we had reached this place where
the rich and rank vegetation spoke of nothing but vigorous
life.

  Fortune had indeed dealt strangely with me.  I had fled
with Almah, and with her had reached one desolate shore, and
now I found myself with Layelah upon another shore, desolate
also, but not a savage wilderness.  This lonely island,
ringed with the black ocean waters, was the abode of a life
of its own, and there was nothing here to crush the soul
into a horror of despair like that which was caused by the
tremendous scenes on Magones.

  In an instant Layelah revived from her gloom.  She looked
around, clapped her little hands, laughed aloud, and danced
for joy.

  "Oh, Atam-or," she cried, "see--see the trees, see the
grass, the bushes!  This is a land of wonder.  As for food,
you can call it down from the sky with your _sepet-ram_, or
we can find it on the rocks.  Oh, Atam-or! life is better
than death, and we can live here, and we can be happy.  This
shall be better to us than the lands of the Orin, for we
shall be alone, and we shall be all in all to one another."

  I could not help laughing, and I said:

  "Layelah, this is not the language of the Kosekin.  You
should at once go to the other side of this island, and sit
down and wait for death."

  "Never," said Layelah; "you are mine, Atam-or, and I never
will leave you.  If you wish me to die for you, I will
gladly lay down my life; but I will not leave you.  I love
you, Atam-or; and now, whether it be life or death, it is
all the same so long as I have you."

  Our submersion in the sea and our long exposure afterward
had chilled both of us, but Layelah felt it most.  She was
shivering in her wet clothes in spite of my coat which I
insisted on her wearing, and I determined, if possible, to
kindle a fire.  Fortunately my powder was dry, for I had
thrown off my flask with my coat before jumping into the
sea, and thus I had the means of creating fire.  I rubbed
wet powder over my handkerchief, and then gathered some
dried sticks and moss.  After this I found some dead trees,
the boughs of which were dry and brittle, and in the
exercise I soon grew warm, and had the satisfaction of
seeing a great heap of fagots accumulating.  I fired my
pistol into the handkerchief, which, being saturated with
powder, caught the fire, and this I blew into a flame among
the dried moss.  A bright fire now sprang up and blazed high
in the air; while I, in order to have an ample supply of
fuel, continued to gather it for a long time.  At length, as
I came back, I saw Layelah lying on the sand in front of the
fire, sound asleep.  I was glad of this, for she was weary,
and had seemed so weak and tremulous that I had felt
anxious; so now I arranged my coat over her carefully, and
then sat down for a time to think over this new turn which
my fortune had taken.

  This island was certainly very unlike Magones, yet I had
no surety but that it might be equally destitute of food. 
This was the first question, and I could not think of sleep
until I had found out more about the place.  The aurora
light, which constantly brightens and lessens in this
strange world, was now shining gloriously, and I set forth
to explore the island.  The beach was of fine sand all the
way.  The water was smooth, and shut in on every side by an
outer reef against which the sea-waves broke incessantly. 
As I walked I soon perceived what the island was; for I had
often seen such places before in the South Pacific.  It was,
in fact, a coral islet, with a reef of rocks encircling it
on every side.  The vegetation, however, was unlike anything
in the world beyond; for it consisted of many varieties of
tree-ferns, that looked like palms, and giant grasses, and
bamboo.  The island was but small, and the entire circuit
was not over a mile.  I saw nothing that looked like food,
nor did it seem likely that in so small a place there could
be enough sustenance for us.  Our only hope would be from
the sea, yet even here I could see no signs of any sort of
shell-fish.  On the whole the prospect was discouraging, and
I returned to the starting-point with a feeling of
dejection; but this feeling did not trouble me much at that
time: my chief thought was of rest, and I flung myself down
on the sand and fell asleep.

  I was awakened by a cry from Layelah.  Starting up, I saw
her standing and looking into the sky.  She was intensely
excited.  As soon as she saw me she rushed toward me and
burst into tears, while I, full of wonder, could only stare
upward.

  "Oh!" cried Layelah, "they've turned back--they've found
us!  We shall have to leave our dear, lovely island.  Oh,
Atam-or, I shall lose you now; for never, never, never again
will you have one thought of love for your poor Layelah!"

  With these words she clung sobbing to me.  For my part I
do not remember what I said to soothe her, for the sight
above was so amazing that it took up all my attention.  The
aurora shone bright, and in the sky I saw two vast objects
wheeling and circling, as if about to descend.  I recognized
them at once as athalebs; but as their backs were hid from
view by their immense wings, I could not make out whether
they were wanderers about to alight of their own accord, or
guided here by riders--perhaps by the Kosekin from whom we
had been parted.

  This much at least I remember.  I said to Layelah that
these athalebs were wild ones, which had come here because
they saw or scented our wounded one; but Layelah shook her
head with mournful meaning.

  "Oh no," said she; "Almah has come back for you.  This
fire-light has guided them.  If you had not made the fire
they never, never, never could have found us; but now all is
lost."

  There was no time for conversation or discussion.  The
athalebs drew swiftly nearer and nearer, descending in long
circuits, until at length they touched the ground not far
away on the wide sandy beach.  Then we saw people on their
backs, and among them was Almah.  We hurried toward them,
and Almah rushed into my arms, to the great disgust of
Layelah, for she was close beside me and saw it all.  She
gave an exclamation of grief and despair, and hurried away.

  From Almah I learned that our disappearance had caused
alarm; that two of the athalebs had come back in search of
us; that they had been to Magones, and had searched over the
seas, and were just about giving us up as lost, when the
fire-light had attracted their attention and drawn them
here.

  I said nothing at that time about the cause of our
disappearance, but merely remarked that the athaleb had
fallen into the sea and swam here.  This was sufficient. 
They had to remain here for some time longer to rest their
athalebs.  At length we prepared to depart.  Our wounded
athaleb was left behind to take care of himself.  I was
taken with Almah, and Layelah went on the other.  We were
thus separated; and so we set forth upon our return, and at
length arrived at the _amir_.

(End of the sixteenth installment.)