The Great Eyrie

: The Master Of The World

The next day at dawn, Elias Smith and I left Morganton by a road

which, winding along the left bank of the Catawba River, led to the

village of Pleasant Garden. The guides accompanied us, Harry Horn, a

man of thirty, and James Bruck, aged twenty-five. They were both

natives of the region, and in constant demand among the tourists who

climbed the peaks of the Blueridge and Cumberland Mountains.



A light wag n with two good horses was provided to carry us to the

foot of the range. It contained provisions for two or three days,

beyond which our trip surely would not be protracted. Mr. Smith had

shown himself a generous provider both in meats and in liquors. As to

water the mountain springs would furnish it in abundance, increased

by the heavy rains, frequent in that region during springtime.



It is needless to add that the Mayor of Morganton in his role of

hunter, had brought along his gun and his dog, Nisko, who gamboled

joyously about the wagon. Nisko, however, was to remain behind at the

farm at Wildon, when we attempted our ascent. He could not possibly

follow us to the Great Eyrie with its cliffs to scale and its

crevasses to cross.



The day was beautiful, the fresh air in that climate is still cool of

an April morning. A few fleecy clouds sped rapidly overhead, driven

by a light breeze which swept across the long plains, from the

distant Atlantic. The sun peeping forth at intervals, illumined all

the fresh young verdure of the countryside.



An entire world animated the woods through which we passed. From

before our equipage fled squirrels, field-mice, parroquets of

brilliant colors and deafening loquacity. Opossums passed in hurried

leaps, bearing their young in their pouches. Myriads of birds were

scattered amid the foliage of banyans, palms, and masses of

rhododendrons, so luxuriant that their thickets were impenetrable.



We arrived that evening at Pleasant Garden, where we were comfortably

located for the night with the mayor of the town, a particular friend

of Mr. Smith. Pleasant Garden proved little more than a village; but

its mayor gave us a warm and generous reception, and we supped

pleasantly in his charming home, which stood beneath the shades of

some giant beech-trees.



Naturally the conversation turned upon our attempt to explore the

interior of the Great Eyrie. "You are right," said our host, "until

we all know what is hidden within there, our people will remain

uneasy."



"Has nothing new occurred," I asked, "since the last appearance of

flames above the Great Eyrie?"



"Nothing, Mr. Strock. From Pleasant Garden we can see the entire

crest of the mountain. Not a suspicious noise has come down to us.

Not a spark has risen. If a legion of devils is in hiding there, they

must have finished their infernal cookery, and soared away to some

other haunt."



"Devils!" cried Mr. Smith. "Well, I hope they have not decamped

without leaving some traces of their occupation, some parings of

hoofs or horns or tails. We shall find them out."



On the morrow, the twenty-ninth of April, we started again at dawn.

By the end of this second day, we expected to reach the farm of

Wildon at the foot of the mountain. The country was much the same as

before, except that our road led more steeply upward. Woods and

marshes alternated, though the latter grew sparser, being drained by

the sun as we approached the higher levels. The country was also less

populous. There were only a few little hamlets, almost lost beneath

the beech trees, a few lonely farms, abundantly watered by the many

streams that rushed downward toward the Catawba River.



The smaller birds and beasts grew yet more numerous. "I am much

tempted to take my gun," said Mr. Smith, "and to go off with Nisko.

This will be the first time that I have passed here without trying my

luck with the partridges and hares. The good beasts will not

recognize me. But not only have we plenty of provisions, but we have

a bigger chase on hand today. The chase of a mystery."



"And let us hope," added I, "we do not come back disappointed

hunters."



In the afternoon the whole chain of the Blueridge stretched before us

at a distance of only six miles. The mountain crests were sharply

outlined against the clear sky. Well wooded at the base, they grew

more bare and showed only stunted evergreens toward the summit. There

the scraggly trees, grotesquely twisted, gave to the rocky heights a

bleak and bizarre appearance. Here and there the ridge rose in sharp

peaks. On our right the Black Dome, nearly seven thousand feet high,

reared its gigantic head, sparkling at times above the clouds.



"Have you ever climbed that dome, Mr. Smith?" I asked.



"No," answered he, "but I am told that it is a very difficult ascent.

A few mountaineers have climbed it; but they report that it has no

outlook commanding the crater of the Great Eyrie."



"That is so," said the guide, Harry Horn. "I have tried it myself."



"Perhaps," suggested I, "the weather was unfavorable."



"On the contrary, Mr. Strock, it was unusually clear. But the wall of

the Great Eyrie on that side rose so high, it completely hid the

interior."



"Forward," cried Mr. Smith. "I shall not be sorry to set foot where

no person has ever stepped, or even looked, before."



Certainly on this day the Great Eyrie looked tranquil enough. As we

gazed upon it, there rose from its heights neither smoke nor flame.



Toward five o'clock our expedition halted at the Wildon farm, where

the tenants warmly welcomed their landlord. The farmer assured us

that nothing notable had happened about the Great Eyrie for some

time. We supped at a common table with all the people of the farm;

and our sleep that night was sound and wholly untroubled by

premonitions of the future.



On the morrow, before break of day, we set out for the ascent of the

mountain. The height of the Great Eyrie scarce exceeds five thousand

feet. A modest altitude, often surpassed in this section of the

Alleghanies. As we were already more than three thousand feet above

sea level, the fatigue of the ascent could not be great. A few hours

should suffice to bring us to the crest of the crater. Of course,

difficulties might present themselves, precipices to scale, clefts

and breaks in the ridge might necessitate painful and even dangerous

detours. This was the unknown, the spur to our attempt. As I said,

our guides knew no more than we upon this point. What made me

anxious, was, of course, the common report that the Great Eyrie was

wholly inaccessible. But this remained unproven. And then there was

the new chance that a fallen block had left a breach in the rocky

wall.



"At last," said Mr. Smith to me, after lighting the first pipe of the

twenty or more which he smoked each day, "we are well started. As to

whether the ascent will take more or less time--"



"In any case, Mr. Smith," interrupted I, "you and I are fully

resolved to pursue our quest to the end."



"Fully resolved, Mr. Strock."



"My chief has charged me to snatch the secret from this demon of the

Great Eyrie."



"We will snatch it from him, willing or unwilling," vowed Mr. Smith,

calling Heaven to witness. "Even if we have to search the very bowels

of the mountain."



"As it may happen, then," said I, "that our excursion will be

prolonged beyond today, it will be well to look to our provisions."



"Be easy, Mr. Strock; our guides have food for two days in their

knapsacks, besides what we carry ourselves. Moreover, though I left

my brave Nisko at the farm, I have my gun. Game will be plentiful in

the woods and gorges of the lower part of the mountain, and perhaps

at the top we shall find a fire to cook it, already lighted."



"Already lighted, Mr. Smith?"



"And why not, Mr. Strock? These flames! These superb flames, which

have so terrified our country folk! Is their fire absolutely cold, is

no spark to be found beneath their ashes? And then, if this is truly

a crater, is the volcano so wholly extinct that we cannot find there

a single ember? Bah! This would be but a poor volcano if it hasn't

enough fire even to cook an egg or roast a potato. Come, I repeat, we

shall see! We shall see!"



At that point of the investigation I had, I confess, no opinion

formed. I had my orders to examine the Great Eyrie. If it proved

harmless, I would announce it, and people would be reassured. But at

heart, I must admit, I had the very natural desire of a man possessed

by the demon of curiosity. I should be glad, both for my own sake,

and for the renown which would attach to my mission if the Great

Eyrie proved the center of the most remarkable phenomena--of which I

would discover the cause.



Our ascent began in this order. The two guides went in front to seek

out the most practicable paths. Elias Smith and I followed more

leisurely. We mounted by a narrow and not very steep gorge amid rocks

and trees. A tiny stream trickled downward under our feet. During the

rainy season or after a heavy shower, the water doubtless bounded

from rock to rock in tumultuous cascades. But it evidently was fed

only by the rain, for now we could scarcely trace its course. It

could not be the outlet of any lake within the Great Eyrie.



After an hour of climbing, the slope became so steep that we had to

turn, now to the right, now to the left; and our progress was much

delayed. Soon the gorge became wholly impracticable; its cliff-like

sides offered no sufficient foothold. We had to cling by branches, to

crawl upon our knees. At this rate the top would not be reached

before sundown.



"Faith!" cried Mr. Smith, stopping for breath, "I realize why the

climbers of the Great Eyrie have been few, so few, that it has never

been ascended within my knowledge."



"The fact is," I responded, "that it would be much toil for very

little profit. And if we had not special reasons to persist in our

attempt"



"You never said a truer word," declared Harry Horn. "My comrade and I

have scaled the Black Dome several times, but we never met such

obstacles as these."



"The difficulties seem almost impassable," added James Bruck.



The question now was to determine to which side we should turn for a

new route; to right, as to left, arose impenetrable masses of trees

and bushes. In truth even the scaling of cliffs would have been more

easy. Perhaps if we could get above this wooded slope we could

advance with surer foot. Now, we could only go ahead blindly, and

trust to the instincts of our two guides. James Bruck was especially

useful. I believe that that gallant lad would have equaled a monkey

in lightness and a wild goat in agility. Unfortunately, neither Elias

Smith nor I was able to climb where he could.



However, when it is a matter of real need with me, I trust I shall

never be backward, being resolute by nature and well-trained in bodily

exercise. Where James Bruck went, I was determined to go, also;

though it might cost me some uncomfortable falls. But it was not the

same with the first magistrate of Morganton, less young, less

vigorous, larger, stouter, and less persistent than we others.

Plainly he made every effort, not to retard our progress, but he

panted like a seal, and soon I insisted on his stopping to rest.



In short, it was evident that the ascent of the Great Eyrie would

require far more time than we had estimated. We had expected to reach

the foot of the rocky wall before eleven o'clock, but we now saw that

mid-day would still find us several hundred feet below it.



Toward ten o'clock, after repeated attempts to discover some more

practicable route, after numberless turnings and returnings, one of

the guides gave the signal to halt. We found ourselves at last on the

upper border of the heavy wood. The trees, more thinly spaced,

permitted us a glimpse upward to the base of the rocky wall which

constituted the true Great Eyrie.



"Whew!" exclaimed Mr. Smith, leaning against a mighty pine tree, "a

little respite, a little repose, and even a little repast would not

go badly."



"We will rest an hour," said I.



"Yes; after working our lungs and our legs, we will make our stomachs

work."



We were all agreed on this point. A rest would certainty freshen us.

Our only cause for inquietude was now the appearance of the

precipitous slope above us. We looked up toward one of those bare

strips called in that region, slides. Amid this loose earth, these

yielding stones, and these abrupt rocks there was no roadway.



Harry Horn said to his comrade, "It will not be easy."



"Perhaps impossible," responded Bruck.



Their comments caused me secret uneasiness. If I returned without

even having scaled the mountain, my mission would be a complete

failure, without speaking of the torture to my curiosity. And when I

stood again before Mr. Ward, shamed and confused, I should cut but a

sorry figure.



We opened our knapsacks and lunched moderately on bread and cold

meat. Our repast finished, in less than half an hour, Mr. Smith

sprang up eager to push forward once more. James Bruck took the lead;

and we had only to follow him as best we could.



We advanced slowly. Our guides did not attempt to conceal their doubt

and hesitation. Soon Horn left us and went far ahead to spy out which

road promised most chance of success.



Twenty minutes later he returned and led us onward toward the

northwest. It was on this side that the Black Dome rose at a distance

of three or four miles. Our path was still difficult and painful,

amid the sliding stones, held in place only occasionally by wiry

bushes. At length after a weary struggle, we gained some two

hundred feet further upward and found ourselves facing a great gash,

which, broke the earth at this spot. Here and there were scattered

roots recently uptorn, branches broken off, huge stones reduced to

powder, as if an avalanche had rushed down this flank of the mountain.



"That must be the path taken by the huge block which broke away

from the Great Eyrie," commented James Bruck.



"No doubt," answered Mr. Smith, "and I think we had better follow the

road that it has made for us."



It was indeed this gash that Harry Horn had selected for our ascent.

Our feet found lodgment in the firmer earth which had resisted the

passage of the monster rock. Our task thus became much easier, and

our progress was in a straight line upward, so that toward half past

eleven we reached the upper border of the "slide."



Before us, less than a hundred feet away, but towering a hundred feet

straight upwards in the air rose the rocky wall which formed the

final crest, the last defence of the Great Eyrie.



From this side, the summit of the wall showed capriciously irregular,

rising in rude towers and jagged needles. At one point the outline

appeared to be an enormous eagle silhouetted against the sky, just

ready to take flight. Upon this side, at least, the precipice was

insurmountable.



"Rest a minute," said Mr. Smith, "and we will see if it is possible

to make our way around the base of this cliff."



"At any rate," said Harry Horn, "the great block must have fallen

from this part of the cliff; and it has left no breach for entering."



They were both right; we must seek entrance elsewhere. After a rest

of ten minutes, we clambered up close to the foot of the wall, and

began to make a circuit of its base.



Assuredly the Great Eyrie now took on to my eyes an aspect absolutely

fantastic. Its heights seemed peopled by dragons and huge monsters.

If chimeras, griffins, and all the creations of mythology had

appeared to guard it, I should have been scarcely surprised.



With great difficulty and not without danger we continued our tour of

this circumvallation, where it seemed that nature had worked as man

does, with careful regularity. Nowhere was there any break in the

fortification; nowhere a fault in the strata by which one might

clamber up. Always this mighty wall, a hundred feet in height!



After an hour and a half of this laborious circuit, we regained our

starting-place. I could not conceal my disappointment, and Mr. Smith

was not less chagrined than I.



"A thousand devils!" cried he, "we know no better than before what is

inside this confounded Great Eyrie, nor even if it is a crater."



"Volcano, or not," said I, "there are no suspicious noises now;

neither smoke nor flame rises above it; nothing whatever threatens an

eruption."



This was true. A profound silence reigned around us; and a perfectly

clear sky shone overhead. We tasted the perfect calm of great

altitudes.



It was worth noting that the circumference of the huge wall was about

twelve or fifteen hundred feet. As to the space enclosed within, we

could scarce reckon that without knowing the thickness of the

encompassing wall. The surroundings were absolutely deserted.

Probably not a living creature ever mounted to this height, except

the few birds of prey which soared high above us.



Our watches showed three o'clock, and Mr. Smith cried in disgust,

"What is the use of stopping here all day! We shall learn nothing

more. We must make a start, Mr. Strock, if we want to get back to

Pleasant Garden to-night."



I made no answer, and did not move from where I was seated; so he

called again, "Come, Mr. Strock; you don't answer."



In truth, it cut me deeply to abandon our effort, to descend the

slope without having achieved my mission. I felt an imperious need of

persisting; my curiosity had redoubled. But what could I do? Could I

tear open this unyielding earth? Overleap the mighty cliff? Throwing

one last defiant glare at the Great Eyrie, I followed my companions.



The return was effected without great difficulty. We had only to

slide down where we had so laboriously scrambled up. Before five

o'clock we descended the last slopes of the mountain, and the farmer

of Wildon welcomed us to a much needed meal.



"Then you didn't get inside?" said he.



"No," responded Mr. Smith, "and I believe that the inside exists only

in the imagination of our country folk."



At half past eight our carriage drew up before the house of the Mayor

of Pleasant Garden, where we passed the night. While I strove vainly

to sleep, I asked myself if I should not stop there in the village

and organize a new ascent. But what better chance had it of

succeeding than the first? The wisest course was, doubtless, to

return to Washington and consult Mr. Ward.



So, the next day, having rewarded our two guides, I took leave of Mr.

Smith at Morganton, and that same evening left by train for

Washington.