CHAPTER 1 .
A Not Unnatural Enterprise This is written from memory , unfortunately .
If I could have brought with me the material I so carefully prepared , this would be a very different story .
Whole books full of notes , carefully copied records , firsthand descriptions , and the pictures -- that ’s the worst loss .
We had some bird ’s - eyes of the cities and parks ; a lot of lovely views of streets , of buildings , outside and in , and some of those gorgeous gardens , and , most important of all , of the women themselves .
Nobody will ever believe how they looked .
Descriptions are n’t any good when it comes to women , and I never was good at descriptions anyhow .
But it ’s got to be done somehow ; the rest of the world needs to know about that country .
I have n’t said where it was for fear some self-appointed missionaries , or traders , or land-greedy expansionists , will take it upon themselves to push in .
They will not be wanted , I can tell them that , and will fare worse than we did if they do find it .
It began this way .
There were three of us , classmates and friends -- Terry O. Nicholson ( we used to call him the Old Nick , with good reason ) , Jeff Margrave , and I , Vandyck Jennings .
We had known each other years and years , and in spite of our differences we had a good deal in common .
All of us were interested in science .
Terry was rich enough to do as he pleased .
His great aim was exploration .
He used to make all kinds of a row because there was nothing left to explore now , only patchwork and filling in , he said .
He filled in well enough -- he had a lot of talents -- great on mechanics and electricity .
Had all kinds of boats and motorcars , and was one of the best of our airmen .
We never could have done the thing at all without Terry .
Jeff Margrave was born to be a poet , a botanist -- or both -- but his folks persuaded him to be a doctor instead .
He was a good one , for his age , but his real interest was in what he loved to call “ the wonders of science . ”
As for me , sociology ’s my major .
You have to back that up with a lot of other sciences , of course .
I ’m interested in them all .
Terry was strong on facts -- geography and meteorology and those ; Jeff could beat him any time on biology , and I did n’t care what it was they talked about , so long as it connected with human life , somehow .
There are few things that do n’t .
We three had a chance to join a big scientific expedition .
They needed a doctor , and that gave Jeff an excuse for dropping his just opening practice ; they needed Terry ’s experience , his machine , and his money ; and as for me , I got in through Terry ’s influence .
The expedition was up among the thousand tributaries and enormous hinterland of a great river , up where the maps had to be made , savage dialects studied , and all manner of strange flora and fauna expected .
But this story is not about that expedition .
That was only the merest starter for ours .
My interest was first roused by talk among our guides .
I ’m quick at languages , know a good many , and pick them up readily .
What with that and a really good interpreter we took with us , I made out quite a few legends and folk myths of these scattered tribes .
And as we got farther and farther upstream , in a dark tangle of rivers , lakes , morasses , and dense forests , with here and there an unexpected long spur running out from the big mountains beyond , I noticed that more and more of these savages had a story about a strange and terrible Woman Land in the high distance .
“ Up yonder , ” “ Over there , ” “ Way up ” -- was all the direction they could offer , but their legends all agreed on the main point -- that there was this strange country where no men lived -- only women and girl children .
None of them had ever seen it .
It was dangerous , deadly , they said , for any man to go there .
But there were tales of long ago , when some brave investigator had seen it -- a Big Country , Big Houses , Plenty People -- All Women .
Had no one else gone ?
Yes -- a good many -- but they never came back .
It was no place for men -- of that they seemed sure .
I told the boys about these stories , and they laughed at them .
Naturally I did myself .
I knew the stuff that savage dreams are made of .
But when we had reached our farthest point , just the day before we all had to turn around and start for home again , as the best of expeditions must in time , we three made a discovery .
The main encampment was on a spit of land running out into the main stream , or what we thought was the main stream .
It had the same muddy color we had been seeing for weeks past , the same taste .
I happened to speak of that river to our last guide , a rather superior fellow with quick , bright eyes .
He told me that there was another river -- “ over there , short river , sweet water , red and blue . ”
I was interested in this and anxious to see if I had understood , so I showed him a red and blue pencil I carried , and asked again .
Yes , he pointed to the river , and then to the southwestward .
“ River -- good water -- red and blue . ”
Terry was close by and interested in the fellow ’s pointing .
“ What does he say , Van ? ”
I told him .
Terry blazed up at once .
“ Ask him how far it is . ”
The man indicated a short journey ; I judged about two hours , maybe three .
“ Let ’s go , ” urged Terry .
“ Just us three .
Maybe we can really find something .
May be cinnabar in it . ”
“ May be indigo , ” Jeff suggested , with his lazy smile .
It was early yet ; we had just breakfasted ; and leaving word that we ’d be back before night , we got away quietly , not wishing to be thought too gullible if we failed , and secretly hoping to have some nice little discovery all to ourselves .
It was a long two hours , nearer three .
I fancy the savage could have done it alone much quicker .
There was a desperate tangle of wood and water and a swampy patch we never should have found our way across alone .
But there was one , and I could see Terry , with compass and notebook , marking directions and trying to place landmarks .
We came after a while to a sort of marshy lake , very big , so that the circling forest looked quite low and dim across it .
Our guide told us that boats could go from there to our camp -- but “ long way -- all day . ”
This water was somewhat clearer than that we had left , but we could not judge well from the margin .
We skirted it for another half hour or so , the ground growing firmer as we advanced , and presently we turned the corner of a wooded promontory and saw a quite different country -- a sudden view of mountains , steep and bare .
“ One of those long easterly spurs , ” Terry said appraisingly .
“ May be hundreds of miles from the range .
They crop out like that . ”
Suddenly we left the lake and struck directly toward the cliffs .
We heard running water before we reached it , and the guide pointed proudly to his river .
It was short .
We could see where it poured down a narrow vertical cataract from an opening in the face of the cliff .
It was sweet water .
The guide drank eagerly and so did we .
“ That ’s snow water , ” Terry announced .
“ Must come from way back in the hills . ”
But as to being red and blue -- it was greenish in tint .
The guide seemed not at all surprised .
He hunted about a little and showed us a quiet marginal pool where there were smears of red along the border ; yes , and of blue .
Terry got out his magnifying glass and squatted down to investigate .
“ Chemicals of some sort -- I ca n’t tell on the spot .
Look to me like dyestuffs .
Let ’s get nearer , ” he urged , “ up there by the fall . ”
We scrambled along the steep banks and got close to the pool that foamed and boiled beneath the falling water .
Here we searched the border and found traces of color beyond dispute .
More -- Jeff suddenly held up an unlooked-for trophy .
It was only a rag , a long , raveled fragment of cloth .
But it was a well-woven fabric , with a pattern , and of a clear scarlet that the water had not faded .
No savage tribe that we had heard of made such fabrics .
The guide stood serenely on the bank , well pleased with our excitement .
“ One day blue -- one day red -- one day green , ” he told us , and pulled from his pouch another strip of bright-hued cloth .
“ Come down , ” he said , pointing to the cataract .
“ Woman Country -- up there . ”
Then we were interested .
We had our rest and lunch right there and pumped the man for further information .
He could tell us only what the others had -- a land of women -- no men -- babies , but all girls .
No place for men -- dangerous .
Some had gone to see -- none had come back .
I could see Terry ’s jaw set at that .
No place for men ?
Dangerous ?
He looked as if he might shin up the waterfall on the spot .
But the guide would not hear of going up , even if there had been any possible method of scaling that sheer cliff , and we had to get back to our party before night .
“ They might stay if we told them , ” I suggested .
But Terry stopped in his tracks .
“ Look here , fellows , ” he said .
“ This is our find .
Let ’s not tell those cocky old professors .
Let ’s go on home with ‘ em , and then come back -- just us -- have a little expedition of our own . ”