For months I have been waiting here for a white man to come. I
dared not leave the prospector for fear I should never be able to
find it again--the shifting sands of the desert would soon cover
it, and then my only hope of returning to my Dian and her Pellucidar
would be gone forever.
That I ever shall see her again seems but remotely possible, for
how may I know upon what part of Pellucidar my return journey may
terminate--and how, without a north or south or an east or a west
may I hope ever to find my way across that vast world to the tiny
spot where my lost love lies grieving for me?
That is the story as David Innes told it to me in the goat-skin tent
upon the rim of the great Sahara Desert. The next day he took me
out to see the prospector--it was precisely as he had described it.
So huge was it that it could have been brought to this inaccessible
part of the world by no means of transportation that existed there--it
could only have come in the way that David Innes said it came--up
through the crust of the earth from the inner world of Pellucidar.
I spent a week with him, and then, abandoned my lion hunt, returned
directly to the coast and hurried to London where I purchased a
great quantity of stuff which he wished to take back to Pellucidar
with him. There were books, rifles, revolvers, ammunition, cameras,
chemicals, telephones, telegraph instruments, wire, tool and more
books--books upon every subject under the sun.
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