The Valley of the Moas

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 236, 5 October 1935, Page 40 (Supplement)

The Valley of the Moas

By

Ernest L. Eyre.

CHAPTER 111.

Fortunately, we possessed eight lanterns, and these we lighted and began to explore the gloomy cavity, which apparently broadened into a miniature underground valley, with the waters running down the middle. Here and there fat eels, some 6ft in length, could be seen gliding swiftly away among curious luminous weeds; and once I was certain I saw an immense fish, as large as a crocodile, arch its spiked red back above the surface and then hurriedly dive into the depths. Not a sign, however, could we discover of poor Charlie Malory, although we called him by name at the top of our voices—which echoed and re-echoed like thunder from the hidden walls—and searched assiduously on all sides. 1 His distressed parent took the lead, by common consent, and led us further and further into the mysterious, uncanny cave, where the flames of the lanterns flickered and danced in strange fantastic reds and pinks. Suddenly our leader gave an exclamation of astonishment as he fell heavily over a pile of huge bones. “Moa remains,” ejaculated John Vickers, who was a bit of a scientist. There must have been the remnants of at least forty of these huge birds lying about on’the dry, sandy patch in a good state of preservation. But a weirder sight was yet to attract our stupefied attention. We had just emerged into a lofty vaulted room, apparently stretching out into illimitable distance on either side of us, and ahead, when directly in our path a giant greenstone god, some 60ft in height, towered above us. It was not carved as the Maoris carve their gods, but was devised after the style of the ancient Hindu

idols, and seemed to be ablaze with numberless jewels, which cast on the silent stream an unearthly radiance. The head —so far as we could ascertain —was massive, ferocious and forbidding, with curious evil eyes, made of wondrous gems which appeared to emit pale fire. A stone platform, carved with religious symbols, surrounded the base of the god. and human bones and skulls, of all sizes, lay in scattered profusion upon it; they were evidently sacrificial relics of ghastly rites performed by the priests of some very ancient and cruel religion. Wonderful to relate, bows and arrows, the latter with bronze heads, were also lying amongst the bones;

and a huge greenstone axe, with a broken handle, rested against the curled-up legs of the gigantic idol, which was in a sitting posture. By the uncertain flickering light of our. lanterns, gleaming like fireflies in the subterranean temple, we could discern half a dozen smaller

but similar deities grouped in a semicircle at the rear of the large one. But, whereas the latter's mouth was wide open, but tongueless, its companion idols had their scarlet tongues protruding half-way down their jewelled breasts. We all felt unnerved, I can tell you, at encountering, in such strange surroundings, these mis-shapen gods; all, that is, except ’the scientist, whose scientific curiosity, I firmly believe, would have urged him to venture there alone had he known what a find was in store. “A very ancient people, a very ancient people,” we heard him mutter, “probably antedating the Sphinx.”

But we had no time to loiter when our poor ehum’s fate rested in the balance, so we hastily passed by the gruesome things, only to discover our further progress retarded by dozens of wooden coffin eases, raised tier upon tier like a wall, and seemingly containing mummies, to judge by one

which had no lid, and where reposed at full length a swathed form, in a splendid state of preservation. It ,was not in the least shrivelled — like'most mummies—but resembled a figure made of wax, ami as lifelike. It was the body of a bearded, bulky man of perhaps fifty years of age, with the supercilious, callous lips of a Nero. With a shudder we turned away, and negotiated the other coffins successfully, following the course of the creek as best we could. We noticed numerous parts of mummies—heads, trunks and limbs —lying about; there appeared to be thousands of them, all as waxen as the first, thrown promiscuously in all directions. Our anxiety was intense, heartbreaking. Would we never find poor Charlie Malory, for -whom we had faced the perils of this underground hell? Had he vanished from mortal gaze for ever? Even now, a grandfather, I can visualise the agonising torment written on the features of Charlie’s dad. The missing boy was his only son. Great beads of perspiration stood upon his forehead, and gleamed in the misty lantern-glow. A six-foot man, weighing 14 stone, he yet trembled visibly as he thought of his unhappy wife's mental sufferings, as she paced, helpless, the floor of their cottage in the lonely range, waiting for news. Strangely enough, the atmosphere now ceased to be so oppressive, and became more breathable, although we must have advanced several hundred yards, on a down grade, into the bowels of the earth. By this time we could not distinguish the roof, but the walls were again discernible, and the cavern narrowed with every step we took. Blindly we followed the dark, tortuous course of the small river, groping our way to unknown terrors. “What’s that?” My dad's ejaculation of surprise broke the tense silence, halted our feet, and checked the laboured breathing of the men, whose nerves were rapidly becoming shaken. Mine, I know, were on edge. A long- low ominous grow] sounded down the gloomy aisle in front of us, and was echoed back by the walls. Our boots slipped and we stumbled on the clay soil as we again pressed onward, a strange, renewed courage in our hearts.

(To be continued.)