A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder James De Mille

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hiding. But I saw that she had already taken the alarm, and with more
presence of mind than I had she had hurried to the birds, who were
standing near, and had made them lie down. As I turned, she beckoned
to me without a word. I hurried to her. She told me to mount. I did so
at once; she did the same. Scarce had we mounted than the monster
perceived us, and with a terrible bellow came rushing toward us. Almah
drove her goad deep into her bird, which at once rose and went off
like the wind, and mine started to follow. The vast monster came on.
His roar sounded close behind, and I heard the clash of his tremendous
jaws; but the swift bird with a bound snatched me from his grasp, and
bore me far away out of his reach. Away I went like the wind. Almah
was ahead, looking back from time to time, and waving her hand
joyously. So we went on, returning on our course at a speed almost as
great as that with which we had come. By this time the novelty had in
part worn away, and the easy motion gave me confidence. I noticed that
we were travelling a wild, uninhabited, and rocky district by the
sea-side. Before me the country spread far away, interspersed with
groves, terminating in forests, and bounded in the far distance by
mountains. The country here was so rough that it seemed as if nothing
could pass over it except such creatures as these--the opmaheras.
At length we arrived at the spot which we had left--the scene of the
hunt. We could see it from afar, for the opmaheras stood quietly
around, and the men were busy elsewhere. As we drew nearer I saw the
vast body of the monster. They had succeeded in killing it, yet--oh
heavens, at what a cost! One half of all the party lay dead. The rest
were unharmed, and among these was the Kohen. He greeted me with a
melancholy smile. That melancholy smile, however, was not caused by
the sad fate of his brave companions, but, as I afterward learned,
simply and solely because he himself had not gained his death. When I
saw that there were no wounded, a dark suspicion came over me that the
wounded had again been put to death. I did not care to ask. The truth
was too terrible to hear, and I felt glad that accident had drawn me
away. It was all a dark and dreadful mystery. These people were the
most gentle, the most self-sacrificing, and the most generous in the
world; yet their strange and unnatural love of death made them capable
of endless atrocities. Life and light seemed to them as actual evils,
and death and darkness the only things worthy of regard.
Almah told me that they were going to bring the monster home, and had
sent for opkuks to drag it along. The dead were also to be fetched