The Day of Resis

THE STRANGE DOCUMENT.

The following letter and document were the first causes of the long journey, and strange adventure.

“
Dear Miss Cameron
:—You will probably be much surprised to hear from me in this out-of-the-way place, but knowing the pleasure you take in everything pertaining to Africa, I thought you might be interested in a matter which came before my notice recently.

Some months ago I joined a hunting party bound for the interior of Africa, and on our return march at Rehenoko we fell in with another caravan bound for the coast. Having a common destination, Zanzibar, we travelled together. An Abyssinian, Sedai by name, was in charge of this caravan. He is a large, powerful man, and very intelligent. I often talked with him during the long marches, and one day he told me that he had on this trip, come across a strange manuscript, a part of which he had been able to decipher, but some
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words of which he could not make out. He asked me to help him decipher the difficult phrases; so that evening, after everything had been made snug for the night, Sedai produced a piece of goat-skin, on which was inscribed the following strange tale.

‘Name Philip Harding—English—left England July 6, 1801—Zanzibar, February 16, 1802—expedition just left Bagamayo—myself and nine other sailors started to overtake it—on 26th, lost our way—wandered long and far—hostile tribes—fight—four men killed—others escaped—three die with fever, reach mountains—one man killed by lion—discover opening into mountain—make torches and enter—companion starved—discovered line of broken stones—followed these—found bridge—crossed this—followed stones again—found secret door—Land of On—people thought me from another planet—lived in temple—strange people—no knowledge or connection with outside world—highly civilized in their way—have strange Day of Resis—mysterious ceremonies on this day—people never mention it—day sacred—here nineteen years one month and sixteen days—made escape—looked five days for opening key—removed stone set in cliff behind palm tree under eagle’s rock mountain—lifted lever seen in spring—rock door turned giving time to pass through—passed into cave—crossed bridge—dropped torches in lake, am lost—exhausted—starving—if document ever found write friends—growing weaker—can write no mo——’

Here the writing ended. The first part, or that part which had been written before entering the cave was in regular lines, but the last was evidently written after entering the dark cave, or passage, as the characters
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were scattered and very irregular. Sedai intends placing the matter before the next party who are about to enter the interior, and have them look up the mysterious cave and land. He says that the old man, of whom he got the manuscript, is still living, and knows the entrance to the cave, in which he found the body of Harding still warm, and on it this strange document.

Sedai is a trustworthy fellow, or otherwise I would take no stock in his story, or manuscript.

Hoping you may find some interest in this strange tale, I am,

Very Sincerely Yours,

Frank Boyd
.”

Such was the letter and weird tale which came in Enola Cameron’s mail one morning in the early nineties. Only the fact of hearing from Frank Boyd in Zanzibar surprised her. The story in itself did not surprise her, for she had so long made a study of Africa and its dark secrets, that nothing pertaining to it seemed strange to her. She was as enthusiastic in this research as most women were in studying the art of dress and beauty. She had met the great explorer Stanley during his late visit to New York, and had read the story of his travels again and again. She had met Herbert Warde socially, had overhauled his trophies to her heart’s content, and his books had also been added to the long shelf of African works in her library. Here poor Jameson’s story had filled her eyes with tears, and here, too, she had escorted Glave that she might, in confidence, reveal to him the one great desire of her heart, and to learn from him the possibility
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of its fulfillment. She had studied the history of the dark continent from every obtainable source.

Works, which for the average woman held no attraction, aroused in her the liveliest interest. Her enthusiasm had reached such a pitch that but one course seemed open to her, namely, to experience the adventures which had made the names of Baker, Grant, Speke, Livingstone and Stanley famous. She had passed her twentieth birthday; she was of medium height and well-rounded figure, brimming over with health and strength, as was shown by her clear, rosy complexion and bright eyes, which lighted up with enthusiasm as new thoughts opened to life in her active brain.

There was nothing of the so-called New Woman about her; far from it; she was a womanly woman with a great sympathetic heart and kindly nature. She was an orphan, her parents having died when she was yet a child, leaving her with a life-long friend of the mother. This was Mrs. Graham, a most estimable woman, wealthy and moving in the best circle in the city in which they lived. Enola had long since learned to look upon Mrs. Graham and her kind husband as her second parents, and she was as dearly loved by them as were their own children. She had a snug fortune of her own and was thoroughly independent.

But now that she had made up her mind to go to Africa and ascertain the truth, or fallacy, of the tale which had just reached her, she felt a little hesitancy in broaching the subject to her friends. But she was not the one to be intimidated so easily, so went direct to the library, where she knew that Mr. Graham and
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Harry, the son, would be, and opened the subject at once.

“Uncle,” she said (she always called her second parents uncle and aunt), “I am going to Africa, and will want your help.”

Mr. Graham’s glasses fell from his nose, so suddenly did he look up.

“To Africa,” said he; “Well, has it come to this.”

“Exactly,” said Enola. “Now don’t look as if I had declared my intention of committing suicide, although in your eyes I suppose the two are synonymous.”

“When do you start?” asked Mr. Graham. Having long since learned that to cross Enola was to make her the more determined to carry out her own plans.

“To-day or to-morrow, or as soon as you can make preparations. Now remember, I am only suggesting this adventure; you are the real instigator of the project, and have asked me to accompany you, you know.”

“Well, if that isn’t a woman for you,” said Mr. Graham, laughing in spite of himself. “You come here declaring your intention of going to Africa, asking my help and then tell me that it is I who must assume all responsibility. Well, I will do it for your sake, but I hope it is not to be out of the regular beaten paths of travel in Africa, for it might not be pleasant, you know, fighting hostile natives with a woman about.” And Mr. Graham again laughed.

“The woman will take care of herself, never fear,” said Enola. “But seriously, uncle, I never would have asked you to accompany me on this journey, but for your having spoken some time ago of your intention
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of going to France to spend your vacation, and the thought occurred to me that you might care to go with me for two reasons. First, of course, to be my escort, and secondly, because the adventure would please you. And as for the danger, from what I can glean from Mr. Boyd’s letter, I should say that we will not meet with any great amount of this, for, from the coast to the mountains, the road leads through a comparatively open country, and if we start now we will get to Zanzibar about the right time to enter the interior. I anticipate but very little trouble in reaching the mountains. What will happen after that I cannot say.”

“The adventure will just suit my ideas of such things,” said Mr. Graham, “and I will go with you gladly. And you want to start immediately?”

“Why, yes,” said Enola. “This man Sedai was to present the matter before the first party entering the interior, and if we should wish to be the ones to discover this strange land, we must lose no time in getting to Zanzibar. It will not take long to make preparations, will it?”

“Well, no,” said Mr. Graham. “We will take but very little with us from this country, for everything can be obtained in Zanzibar. Let us see,” and he consults a New York paper. “To-day is Friday and the Paris sails from New York next Wednesday. We can leave here on Sunday evening if you wish to, and mother and Nellie can get packed in that time, and arrive in New York Tuesday morning. We can make what few purchases we need, and go on the steamer that same night. Now what do you think of that for quick work?”

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“I see you are quite as enthusiastic as myself in this matter,” said Enola. “But where will we leave Auntie and Nellie while we are making our longer journey?”

“Oh, they can stop somewhere in Europe,” said Mr. Graham, “or go on to Zanzibar if they wish, and wait there for our return. I am afraid, Enola, that you will have harder work to convince them of the advisability of this trip, than you have had with me.”

“I am afraid so,” said Enola, “but you must help me.”

“I will do the best I can,” said Mr. Graham.

“But look here,” said Harry, who had kept perfectly quiet up to this time. “Where do I come in?”

“Why, Harry, I supposed you understood that you were to accompany us,” said Enola. “Your father is perfectly willing, I know, and your mother will not object when she learns that I am determined on going. It will be pleasanter to have you with us, for there will be so few of us at the most, and among strangers home faces will be very comforting.”

“It will have to be pleasant or otherwise,” said Harry, “for I intend accompanying you, most certainly. I wouldn’t see you take such a journey without me. There ought to be two of us with you anyway Enola, so that in case anything should happen one of us, you would still have another to protect you. It is a serious thing I should judge, to have to trust wholly to the half savage negroes who will make up your escort. So we must guard against any contingency.”

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“Very well,” said Enola, “then it is settled that we start on Sunday night.”

“Sunday night if you can get ready and I can get accommodations on the steamer,” said Mr. Graham.

“Don’t worry about me, uncle,” said Enola. “Look out for yourself and Auntie. I will be ready,” and saying this Enola turned and left the room.

Harry had long since learned to love Enola, but she had told him positively when he approached her on the subject of marriage, that she only thought of him as a brother, but that sometime she might learn to think of him in a different way; until that time, however, he must not mention the subject again. Harry had promised, and so the matter had rested; but he had not forgotten her words, and he now saw a chance, while on this long journey, to win the love he craved.

He was twenty-eight, and by hard work, and strict attention to his duties, had been promoted to the position of cashier in the bank of which his father was president. He and his father had both left the bank for an indefinite period just a few days before our story opens, fully decided on taking a long vacation, spending the time in Europe. So Enola’s plans had not upset theirs to any great extent; they would now take a trip into Africa, instead of through Europe.

When they had thought the matter over for some time, they came to the conclusion that the African trip would be more to their liking, for they were both good hunters and lovers of adventure. So Harry and his father lost no time but went out that same afternoon and made purchases of shotguns, rifles and pistols, fishing tackle, and some of the more necessary
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medicines. They trusted to getting everything else which they might need in New York and in Zanzibar.

That evening at the dinner table, the subject was brought up before Mrs. Graham and Nellie. Both objected, but when Mr. Graham and Harry both avowed their intention of accompanying Enola, then the ladies gave their consent.

Sunday came around and the party had gotten all ready and started for New York. Arriving there some few purchases were made, and then in the evening the party boarded the great steamer which was to carry them to Southampton. The following day opened up bright and beautiful, Enola remarking that this foretold success. The steamer left the dock early and moved slowly down the bay, past Governor’s Island, Bedloe’s Island, the Statue of Liberty, and then along the Staten Island shore, past Quarantine, the forts, Fire Island, Sandy Hook, and then, after a glimpse of Coney Island, Brighton, Manhattan Beach and Far Rockaway, the steamer turned her nose toward the Old World, and land was soon out of sight. The trip was an enjoyable one, the steamer not breaking her record, but still reaching Southampton in less than seven days. They did not tarry in England, but took one of the Channel steamers for Boulogne Sur Mer, and arriving here boarded a train for Paris, which city was reached the same night. The following day Mr. Graham looked up a steamer for Alexandria, and learned that one sailed for that port on Saturday from Marseilles. This was Thursday, so no time must be lost in reaching Marseilles. Sleeping accommodations were secured on the night train, and the following morning found them in the quaint old city. The day
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was spent in taking a drive along the Mediterranean. It was at a time when the Reviera is generally crowded, and the beautiful driveway was filled with elegant equipages.

The following morning they took the steamer for Alexandria.

This was the most delightful part of the trip. The sky never looked so blue, the water never so calm, the sun never so bright, and the air never seemed so pure as on this two weeks’ trip, from Marseilles to Alexandria. Stops were made at Algiers, Tunis and at several other points before reaching Alexandria, and at these different places, the boat stopping for a few hours, our friends disembarked, and made short excursions over the towns.

At Alexandria a freight steamer was found bound for Madagascar, and arrangements were made with the Captain to give the ladies his cabin, Mr. Graham and Harry being satisfied with humbler quarters. Down through the Suez Canal, into the Red Sea, out through the Gulf of Aden and then into the Indian Ocean, and the little steamer headed due south. This trip was rather slow but without much hardship, the Island of Zanzibar was at last sighted, and, later in the day, they were taken off in lighters.

“The civilized part,” as Enola called it, of the journey was finished, and it remained now to make preparations for that other journey, which might prove less agreeable and a great deal more dangerous.

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