Several years ago Sebastian Balfe Dangerfield, one-time Associate Curator of the Museum of Archaeology in New York City, related to a few of his close friends a fascinating discovery which was made by Christian Thornton of the Kon-Tiki expedition, a discovery which was not revealed to the public.
Sebastian, who was in regular correspondence with Thornton, was told that while the members of the expedition were in the jungles of PERU searching for balsa trees they came across a hairy hermit, who spoke in the garbled tongue of the natives a tale of gold, fair women and a city where the gods play. Here Thornton came in contact with this same dirty old hairy hermit, and through certain rare relics found upon his loathsome body they came to the conclusion that he was telling the truth.
Sebastian himself later journeyed to Peru, with the support of the National Geographic Society, to find out "if this is the lead we have been waiting for or just another dirty old hairy hermit hoax."
Sebastian later found himself in the jungles of Peru, and confirmed the existence of the relics and the hermit, who consented to guide them to the "city of the gods."
"I know from the relics," added Sebastian, "from the faint inscriptions on them that we have labored into English and from the hermit, this hairy hermit whose eyes light up in visions of splendor that is beyond his garbled tongue, but in his manner certain gestures and a look about him that he unleashes in the night, squatting by the campfire and scratching antic figures in the dust... he has been there, and God wiling, I shall follow him to the very seat of his wildest dreams to that lost but happy Kingdom of MU."
Details on the outcome of this expedition are mysteriously lacking, other than the fact that the expedition was wrought with much difficulty, injury and misfortune. Whether or not they finally reached their goal is not known, but Christian Thornton did, according to reports, discover a cave near the walls of a high range of mountains, which contained inscriptions "very similar to cuneiform." Here, then, is Thornton's translation of the mysterious message left ages ago by an unknown adventurer:
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THORNTON'S TRANSLATION OF THE INSCRIPTION ON THE CAVERN WALL:
"OH WHAT CAN AIL THEE, KNIGHT AT ARMS, ALONE AND PALEY LOITERING, THE SEDGE IS WITHERED FROM THE LAKE AND NO BIRDS SING."
TO THE GODS DO I LEAVE THE SUNLIGHT, FILLING MY LUNGS WITH AIR. FOR INTO THIS DARK CAVERN I MUST ENTER AS INTO A TOMB WITH LITTLE HOPE AND AN OVERPOWERING FEAR THAT I AM ALREADY TOO LATE.
FROM THE FOREST I TRACED THEIR FOOTSTEPS READING HIS CLEAVED SANDALS HEAVY IN THE MUD AND THE FAINT BIRD-TOES BEHIND HIM AS IF SHE RAN BLINDLY AND SHORT OF BREATH, EAGER TO SURPRISE HIM LIKE A COLT BEHIND ITS MOTHER GAMBOLING FROM SIDE TO SIDE YET QUICK TO FOLLOW WHENEVER THE DISTANCE GREW.
AND DO YOU GRIN, FAT MAN, MUSTACHED WITH YOUR CHESHIRE SMILE? O, BY THE SAINTS, I SEE YOU SWEATING IN THE SANDS AS YOU BEGIN THE ASCENT. SADLY I SIFT THE STORY FROM THE DUST. HERE IS WHERE YOU TOOK HER HAND, PERHAPS TO GUIDE HER UP THAT HUGE CREVICE IN THE BOULDER. AND DID IT FLUTTER LIKE A BIRD SLIGHTING ON A LIMB FEARFUL OF ITS TRUST, OR DID IT PINION YOU SECURELY AS IF TO ANCHOR TO A ROCK AND HERE, WHERE THE STORY ENDS IN THE DUST, RED DUST AS IF THAT GAPING HOLE WERE BUT A TOOTHLESS MOUTH AND THIS ITS LIVING TONGUE.
HERE I WATCHED HER FOOTSTEPS AS THEY QUICKEN WITH ANTICIPATING JOY, AND THEN HER HESITATION. HOW QUICKLY YOU OVERCOME IT. SEE HOW SURELY SHE SLIDES.
WHY, WHAT IS THE PROTEST OF HER HEELS TO THE STRENGTH OF YOUR ARMS; ONLY TWO NARROW FURROWS QUITE SMALL IN THE LIVID DUST AND ALMOST ERASED BY THE WIND. AND ARE YOU STRONG? O, MAY THE DEVILS MAKE YOU STRONG. HEALTH TO YOUR ARMS, THAT I MIGHT FIND YOU WELL TO FEEL YOU STRUGGLE WHEN MY FINGERS DAGGER IN YOUR THROAT.
O, GOD, IF THEY HAVE HURT HER, GIVE ME THE POWER TO KILL. FINGER ME IN TIGER-CLAWS AND FANG ME SHARP AS THE CROCODILE WITH THE MIGHTY ARMS OF THE GIANT ANTEATER. SEND ME TO SLAUGHTER.
O, MY LOVE, MY LIFE, WHY DID YOU FOLLOW HIM? WITH VOICE SO SOFT AS IF IT HAD CHAMBERS WITHIN ITSELF FILLED WITH SWEET ECHOES REPEATING SOUNDS THAT PLEASURED ME FROM SOME FORGOTTEN AGE AS IF THIS SLAVE WERE ONCE HER LOVE AND LAUGHED AND GREW WITH HER IN KINGDOMS TIME FORGOT.
AND IN THOSE GLANCES OF HER EYES PRIDE AS IF ONE FLUNG A TORCH HIGH INTO THE NIGHT AND WHILE IT FLEW I HELD MY BREATH IN WORRY FOR IT; AND BEAUTY AS IF THOSE EVES HAD SPUN IN ORBIT WITH THE STARS WHERE THE GODS CAUGHT THEM IN A GOLDEN NET AND TRACED AN IMAGE OF ALL THE PLAY OF THE HEAVENS IN THEM BEFORE THEY CAST THEM BACK SPINNING IN HER HEAD. EYES THAT I TRACE MY CHILDHOOD IN AND WITH A SPACE AS IF THE UNIVERSE WERE NEW AND THERE BEFORE YOU WAS A SILVER PATH STRAIGHT AS THE ROAD TO GLORY.
O, MY LOVE, I MUST FOLLOW THEE EVEN INTO HELL. INTO THY HANDS O LORD I TRUST MY SOUL AND FATE. I HAVE HEARD OF THE DEVILS AND THE TROGLODYTES DEEP IN THE CAVERNS. I FEAR WITH ALL MY BEING, BUT LORD IF THOU CANST NOT HELP ME I MUST STILL GO ON FOR THERE IS NO LIFE WITHOUT HER.
AND IF I DIE AND YOUR SPIRIT BE FREE THEN COME AN TRACE ME ON THE ROCK THAT I MIGHT WARN ALL ELSE WHO ENTER HERE.
