# Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars/Chapter 28

CHAPTER XXVIII.
ACROSS THE RIFT.
“Maurice! Maurice! Wake up!”
“What's the row?” muttered Maurice. “ ’Taint time for the breakfast bell yet, mother. Do leave a fellow alone.”
As space had been obliterated when my friend Mr. ​Mirrikh made me see Lh’asa, so now with Maurice was time without existence. His dreams were of his mother; he was a boy again; his spirit, untrammeled, was living in the so-called past. And what is the past to man but a mental condition—a state? Free to act, how perfectly the spirit is able to resuscitate it. Maurice certainly saw his mother—in his dream.
“Come, come, old fellow! Wake up! Wake up,” I repeated. “This is no time for dreaming. We have work to do. Wake up, Maurice. We are to be saved!”
He leaped to his feet and began staggering about the rock. I caught him by the shoulder and held him fast, fearful lest he should totter over into the abyss.
“Are you awake? Do you know that you are walking?” I demanded.
The instant I called his attention to the fact he sank down and declared he could not walk a step.
“What is the matter, George? I feel so queer?”
“Worse than before?”
“Altogether different. I feel elated. Somehow I seem to have a profound assurance that I shall soon be let out of my awful fix.”
“God grant it; but look, Maurice. Look there! What do you see?”
“Merciful heaven! It is the bridge!”
“It is nothing else!” I cried triumphantly; “and look at this?”
I extended the letter.
“What is it, George?”
“Our safe conduct beyond the frontiers of Thibet.”
Maurice gave a quick gasp.
“Mirrikh has been here,” he breathed. “I knew it! He promised me and I knew he would keep his word. The laying of the bridge across the rift was his work.”
“You are right! Mirrikh has been here. Maurice, that man is deserving of all your enthusiasm. He is indeed a most wonderful individual.”
“Wonderful! He’s a right good fellow, but there is nothing very extraordinary about him. There are thousands of just such men on Mars. Oh George! Why, why didn’t you wake me? I shall never forgive myself for not having seen him. I counted on him to tell me what the deuce I am to do about Merzilla, and now it is too late!”
​“He would not permit it, Maurice. He came up at Walla’s feet, but he would not let me wake you. Said you had been made to sleep soundly on purpose, as he needed all the power he could gather to lay the bridge.”
“But how did he do it?”
“Don’t ask me. I was not allowed to witness the operation. All I can tell you is that he went across that cañon as though it was solid rock.”
“Pooh! That’s nothing. They do that floating in the air business right along, on Mars. All it requires is perfect faith; but about my affairs—did he leave any message for me, George?”
“He left his kindest regards. He told me that all had been arranged for your relief.”
“But how? Did he say?”
“Upon that point he was indefinite.”
“Confound his indefiniteness. I want—hold on! The Doctor is waking up.”
He was right. At that moment Philpot’s eyes opened; he stared stupidly, first at me, then at Maurice, then at the rift; springing up at last with a cry of surprise.
“Gad! The bridge! Padma has returned! We are saved!” And without waiting for me to answer he started across the rift.
“Selfish pig!” muttered Maurice in a tone of disgust.
I watched him breathlessly. Secretly I rejoiced that I had not been called upon to be the first, for the bridge was but a shaky affair at best, being simply long strips of hide laid close together with cross strips plaited in. There was no guard of any kind, not even a rope.
It creaked horribly as the Doctor trod upon it; worse still it took to swaying. I turned away in terror, expecting to see him dashed into the abyss.
“He can never do it,” I murmured, when a shout told me that he was safely on the other side.
Then I opened my batteries upon him, upbraiding him for his selfish act.
“Hush! Hush,” whispered Maurice. “For heaven’s sake control yourself, George! Will it pay for us to get up a quarrel at a time like this?”
“Can’t help it, Wylde,” called the Doctor coolly. “If I had thought twice I shouldn’t have done it, but I acted on ​impulse and here I am, and here you can bet your bottom dollar I mean to stay.”
“Better say you followed the promptings of some selfish devil you keep around you!”
My thoughts were upon what I had seen, but of course he did not understand.
“Take it easy! Take it easy,” he called back. “If you had been civil about it I might have repented and come over again to help you with Maurice. You had better join me and stop your talk. The first you know the thing will tumble into the rift.”
I had not thought of Maurice’s condition until now.
“In heaven’s name what are you to do?” I gasped. “You can never walk across."
“Never!”
“Nor can I carry you. Oh Maurice, we are as badly off as ever.”
“Better get Walla over and leave me to my fate, George,” he answered gloomily. “There is no help for it as matters stand. Perhaps you can get help once you are across.”
“I shall never leave you,” I replied firmly. “Maurice don’t you think you might do it if you tried?”
“It is impossible.”
“But—what’s the matter?”
“Hush! hush," he whispered, raising his hand suddenly. “Merzilla is speaking. She says for you to take Walla and leave me. She assures me that it will be all right.”
“No, no! I shall not do it.”
“But you must; Merzilla orders it.”
“You may feel it necessary to obey her—I do not.”
“George, I beseech you! For God’s sake do not refuse me!”
“Maurice, it is useless. My resolve is taken. Until I know that you are safe across the rift I shall remain where I am.”
“Oh what can I say?" he cried. “What can I say to make you yield?”
“Come on, Wylde? Don’t be a fool! We couldn’t have carried him over anyhow. Come on, and we will go for help,” shouted the Doctor.
But I never answered him, for creeping over Maurice’s face I saw the change come again.
It was no longer Maurice who looked at me—it was the ​face of the woman, if I ever saw a woman’s face in this world.
More perfectly than before was it transfigured and it turned toward me pleadingly; again I was addressed in that unknown tongue.
God knows what she said, but her manner was unmistakable. She pointed toward the bridge, at Walla, at me.
There could be no doubt whatever that she was beseeching me to yield; but I was still stubborn and would not. Seeing determination in my face she caught my hand and kissed it again and again—she even grovelled at my feet, crying out in agony, pleading in unintelligible words.
“You see how it is, Wylde. He’s off the handle again!” called the Doctor. “That settles it. You can do nothing now but save yourself if you have a grain of common sense left.”
Still I should have remained firm to my purpose if I had not distinctly heard that well-remembered voice in my ear. “Do it, George! Do it at once and trust in God!”
I felt that I could hesitate no longer.
“How is that thing fastened on your side?” I shouted to the Doctor. “Is there an iron peg, the same as here?”
“Yes.”
“Will it bear both Walla and myself? I cannot leave the poor creature to cross alone.”
“I should say it might; it seemed strong enough, but the swing is something terrible. You had better leave the girl till we can get help.”
I paid no heed to this, but bent down and shook Walla gently. She had never even lifted her head since the appearance of Mirrikh upon the rock, Now, however, she responded, and looking up asked me what I wanted. I raised her and pointed to the bridge.
Instantly she clapped her hands to her face and began sobbing.
“Ah, it has come! I saw it all in my dreams!” she murmured. “It is to be my fate!”
“No, no! You will be saved! I shall help you to cross. Come, Walla. We are to go now.”
“Let me say good bye. I know that I shall see him again, but now all looks so dark—so dark!”
She uncovered her face and moved toward Maurice, but drew back before she had taken three steps.
​“No, no! I want nothing to do with you!” she hissed. “But for you he would have loved me!”
The answer came promptly. Though the words were past my comprehension, the tone was one of kindly pity. It seemed to have no effect upon Walla, however, for with a gesture of disgust she turned away and caught my hand.
“Come,” she whispered. “Come! My father is over there! He is beckoning to me. Come—come! We must go!”
And we started, but I did not dare to look at Maurice.
“I will surely come back again if nothing turns up to help him,” I murmured, as I planted my foot upon the bridge.
For the first few seconds I almost feared that I had overestimated my courage. Though the bridge was wide enough for us to walk abreast the sway of the hides was fearful.
I closed my eyes, clutched Walla’s hand despairingly and pushed on.
“Courage!” roared the Doctor. “Courage! you are almost over, George!”
My eyes opened; perhaps three feet remained—it could not be more than four—but those swaying hides would rock like mad.
Steadying myself as best I could, never daring to drop my eyes to the waters which surged below me, I plunged madly on—I had almost made it—the Doctor’s right hand even grasped my left, when suddenly Walla slipped, fell forward, and in a twinkling was off our frail support.
Oh God, banish the memory of that moment!
I saw her fall; I saw her head strike the ragged edges of those merciless rocks, but thanks to the Doctor’s strong hand, I held on.
She never gave one cry. Never again did I hear the sound of her voice.
“Hold on, George! Hold on! Keep cool, old man! Slowly now! Slowly! I may be a selfish pig, but by God I am not going to let go your hand!”
Oh the horror of it! The black, unspeakable horror!
But the Doctor held on like a Trojan, while I, with all my strength, pulled her up; raised her until he could grasp her other arm, and somehow we managed to lay her on the rocks.
“She’s a goner, poor thing! That blow on the temple did it!”
Thus the Doctor; but I scarcely heard him. I staggered back a few steps, stretched out my hands toward Maurice, whose face I could dimly discern upon the other side of the rift; and then—why then I had no existence—I was obliterated. Chaos had come once more!