“A tunnel in the first cliff might have been visible to whatever sentinels or patrols there are in that area,” Clemens said. “But the second cliff was hidden in mist.”
“That chain of white towels would be even more outstanding,” the German said.
“Maybe it was placed there not too long before Joe got there,” Clemens said. Von Richthofen shivered.
“For Heaven’th thaketh, let me tell thith! After all, it ith my tale.”
“And a big one, too,” Clemens said, looking at Joe’s huge buttocks. “Thtickth and thotneth may break my boneth.”
6
The party pushed on over another tableland for about ten miles. They slept or tried to, ate, and began climbing. Now, though the mountains were very steep and rough, they were scalable. Their chief enemy was lack of oxygen. They gasped for breath and had to halt often to rest.
By now Joe’s feet were hurting him, and he was limping. He did not ask if he could rest. As long as the others walked, so would he.
“Joe can’t stay on his feet as long as a human,” Clemens said. “All of his species suffer from flat feet. Their weight is just too much for a biped that size. I wouldn’t be surprised if his kind became extinct on Earth because of broken arches.”
“I know one thpetthimen of Homo thapienth who’th going to suffer from a broken nothe if he don’t keep hith nothe out of my buthineth, vhich ith telling thith thtory,” Joe said.
They climbed until The River, broad as it was, was only a thread below them. Much of the time they could not see even that thread because of the clouds. Snow and ice made climbing even more dangerous. Then they found a way downward to another plateau and groped through the fog against a wind that howled and beat at them.
They found themselves beside a tremendous hole in the mountains. Out of the hole rushed The River, and on every side except Riverward the mountain rose straight and smooth. The hole was the only way to go. Out of it blasted a roar so loud they could not hear each other, the voice of a god who spoke as loud as death.
Joe Miller found a narrow ledge entering the cave high above the waters. Joe noticed that the leader had now dropped back behind him. After a while, the titanthrop became aware that all of the pygmies were looking to him as their guide and helper. When they shouted to make themselves heard above the bellow, they called him Tehuti. There was nothing unusual in that, but before this he had detected overtones of jesting in their use of the name, No more. Now he was truly their Tehuti.
Clemens interrupted again. “It was as if we called the village idiot Jehovah or something like that. When men have no need of gods, they mock them. But, when afraid, they treat them with respect. Now, you might say, Thoth was leading them into the opening into the Underworld.
“Of course, I’m only indulging in mankind’s vice of trying to make a symbol out of coincidence. If you scratch any dog, you’ll scare out a flea.”
Joe Miller was breathing heavily through his grotesque nose, and the vast chest rose and fell like a bellows. Clearly, the reliving of that experience had aroused the old terror, in him.
The ledge was not like the tunnel in the mountain. It had not been prepared. It was rough, and there were gaps in it, and sometimes it ran so high that Joe had to crawl to squeeze between the ledge and the roof of the cavern. The darkness blinded him as if his eyes had been plucked out. His sense of hearing did not help him; the bellow filled his ears. Only his touch was left to guide him, and he was so agitated that he sometimes wondered if that were betraying him. He would have quit except that, if he did, the men behind him would not have been able to go on.
“Ve thtopped tvithe to eat and voneth to thleep,” Joe said. “Jutht vhen I vath beginning to think ve might crawl until ve ran out of food, I thaw a grayneth ahead. It vathn’t a light. Jutht a leththening of the darkneth.”