Затерянный мир / The Lost World - стр. 34
“Now, Challenger, if you really insist upon being the first man in,” said Lord John, when every preparation was complete.
“I don’t need your permission,” said the angry Professor.
It didn’t take Challenger long to cross the chasm and he was soon at the other side. He waved his arms in the air.
“At last!” he cried; “at last!”
Summerlee was the second. I came next, and tried hard not to look down into the horrible gulf over which I was passing. As to Lord John, he walked across… actually walked! He must have nerves of iron.
And there we were, the four of us, upon the dreamland, the lost world, of Maple White. It seemed the moment of our supreme triumph. Who could have guessed that it was the prelude to our supreme disaster?
We had turned away from the edge, when there came a frightful crash from behind us. We rushed back – the bridge was gone!
Far down we saw our beech tree broken to pieces. Then we saw Gomez on the opposite side, with a face convulsed with hatred and with the mad joy of revenge.
“Lord Roxton!” he shouted. “Lord John Roxton!”
“Well,” said our companion, “here I am.”
A shriek of laughter came across the abyss.
“Yes, there you are, you English dog, and there you will remain! I have waited and waited, and now has come my chance. We nearly killed you with a stone at the cave,” he cried; “but this is better. It is slower and more terrible. As you lie dying, think of Lopez, whom you shot five years ago on the Putomayo River. I am his brother, and I will die happy now, for his memory has been avenged.” A furious hand was shaken at us, and then all was quiet. The half-breed was descending on the farther side of the pinnacle. But before he could reach the ground, there was a single crack of Lord John’s rifle, and, although we saw nothing, we heard the scream and then the distant sound of the falling body. Roxton came back to us with a face of granite.
“I have been so blind,” said he, bitterly, “It’s my fault that has brought you all into this trouble. I should have remembered that these people have long memories.”
“What about the other one? It took two of them to push that tree over the edge.”
“I let him go. He may have had no part in it. Perhaps it would have been better if I had killed him.”
We were still discussing the whole situation, when a singular scene in the plain below caught our attention.
A man in white clothes, who could only be the surviving half-breed, was running. And behind him, was a huge figure of Zambo, our devoted negro. Finally he reached him. A moment afterwards Zambo rose, and then, waving his hand joyously to us, came running in our direction. The white figure lay motionless.