Here is the story of an expedition to a strange, forgotten world, deep in the South American jungle. Prehistoric birds and beasts, and even the missing link between man and the apes, were all there, waiting to be found!

The Lost World

by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

I was just a young reporter, Edward Malone of the Daily Gazette, when I first met that extraordinary man, Professor Challenger. He was a scientist and explorer, who had just returned from an expedition up the Amazon River, in South America, with a strange story about unusual animals he had seen. I had been sent to interview him. Little did I guess it would lead me into the adventure of my life.

"He's a violent, dangerous, cantankerous man," I was warned, "hated by everyone who comes across him." He had actually come to blows with several reporters who doubted his story! I was young and fit, and played Rugby football, so this did not put me off. Besides, I wanted to investigate something unusual, to impress my girl-friend, who had promised to marry me if I became a success.

The Professor was a huge, hairy man, with a black beard, a chest like a barrel, piercing eyes and enormous hands. He had a bellowing, rumbling voice, and was certainly frightening. He seemed to take to me, however, and showed me a sketch-book. It had belonged to an American artist, Maple White, whom he had found dying in a village near the Amazon Forest.

The first page was a sketch of a landscape. Pale-green feathery vegetation in the foreground sloped up to a line of red cliffs, stretching in an unbroken wall right across the picture. At one point there was a single column of rock, crowned with a great tree, separated from the cliffs by a wide gap. Behind it all was a blue tropical sky. On top of the red cliffs was more greenery.

"Very interesting," I said politely.

"Interesting?" roared the Professor. "There's nothing else like it in the world! It's incredible! Turn over the page!"

I did so and gave an exclamation. There was a picture of the most extraordinary creature I had ever seen, like something out of a nightmare. Its head was like a fowl and its body like a bloated lizard. Its trailing tail had a row of spikes. On its curved back was a strange fringe, like a dozen or so of cocks' combs, arranged one behind the other. A little man, like a dwarf, stood in front of it, staring up.

"What do you think made him draw such an animal?"

"He must have been drunk! What's your explanation?" I asked.

"The obvious one is that the creature exists. That it was actually sketched from life."

If I hadn't been told about the Professor's temper, I would have laughed in his face. He snorted like an angry buffalo, and prodded the drawing with a great hairy sausage of a finger.

"You see that plant behind the animal? I suppose you thought it was a brussels sprout! It's a vegetable ivory palm, and they grow at least fifty feet high. The man is just to show the scale. He would be five to six feet tall. The tree is ten times bigger. So what does that make the monster?" he asked, slowly and sarcastically.

"He'd have a job to fit into Charing Cross railway station!" I admitted.

The Professor produced a book from his shelves.

"Here is a reconstruction of what a prehistoric animal probably looked like, from a study of its fossilised remains. This is a Jurassic dinosaur, a stegosaurus."

I gasped. The Jurassic period of rock formation began about 135 million years ago, before man existed. It was the age of the great lizard, called dinosaurs. A stegosaurus was a dinosaur with armour plating. Professor Challenger wanted me to believe that one had been seen alive, in our century, in South America, by Maple White!

Now he thrust a faded photograph into my hand. It showed the same landscape as the sketch, except that there was what looked like a large bird on the top of the tree.

"Here, look through this magnifying glass."

"It's a bird with a large beak—I'd say it was a pelican," I guessed.

"I cannot congratulate you on your eyesight," grunted the Professor. "It is not a pelican and it is not a bird. I shot it, but unfortunately lost the carcass in a boating accident. Here is part of the wing I managed to save."

The fragment looked to me like part of the wing of a bat, a curved bone, with a piece of leathery skin attached.

"A monstrous bat?" I guessed.

The Professor opened his book again.

"Here," he said, pointing to a picture of a flying monster. "It is an excellent reproduction of a pterodactyl, a flying reptile of the Jurassic period. On the next page is a diagram of the mechanism of its wings. Kindly compare it with the specimen in your hand."

I knew something about pterodactyls. The "ptero" part of their name meant "wing", and the "dactyl" part meant "finger", that is, wings with fingers. I could hardly believe that such a creature could be flying around in the sky today, yet I was holding a piece of it in my hand. The Professor had real evidence on his side, incredible though it might be.

"It's the biggest thing I've ever heard of," I cried enthusiastically. "You've discovered a lost world! But how do you account for it?"

"There must have been a volcanic eruption in this region. It lifted up a district as large as an English county, with all its living contents, high above the level of the plain. This made a plateau, or table-land, cut off from the rest of the country. Creatures have survived there, that otherwise would have become extinct."

Suddenly an idea struck the Professor. "How would you like to join my expedition to the plateau?" he asked eagerly. "Professor Summerlee, my great rival, is coming to see for himself, as he does not believe me. So is the big-game hunter, Lord John Roxton. It would be useful to have a reporter to write up our story.

I did not hesitate—it was the chance of a lifetime. When I told my editor, he too was eager for me to go and get a good story for the Gazette. Later I met the other two members of the expedition. Professor Summerlee was a thin, bitter man, who scoffed at Challenger's claims. Lord John Roxton was a real adventurer, a famous hunter, deeply tanned, with red hair and keen blue eyes. I took a liking to him at once. I was the youngest member of the expedition. If I'd known what lay in front of us, I might not have been so enthusiastic.

The three of us made our way by sea to Brazil, and then by steamer to Manao, where we were joined by Professor Challenger. We were an odd group. Professor Summerlee, who was sixty-five, with a thin, goat-like beard, darted about with a butterfly-net, collecting specimens. He was the original "absent-minded professor", careless in his dress, not too clean in his habits, and constantly smoking a short, stubby pipe.

Lord John Roxton, in his forties, dressed very neatly in white tropical suits and high brown mosquito boots. He shaved at least once every day, and had a quiet voice and manner. He was respected by the native Indians, who called him "The red Chief" because of his hair. He had freed a whole tribe of them from captivity by slavers in Peru, and killed the slavers' leader, Pedro Lopez, with his own hands. His knowledge of the country and the language was a great help.

The first part of our journey was by steam-boat, but, as we reached further into the interior, we took two canoes and distributed our stores between them. We had two half-Portuguese, half-Indian brothers called Gomez, a negro, Zamba, and two Indians to help with the navigation.

At times we had to carry our canoes overland to avoid rapids. The solemn mystery of the forest overawed us. Huge trees shot up in majestic columns far above our heads. Their branches made a great, green, matted roof. Only stray rays of golden sunshine shot down through the gloom. We walked without noise on a thick carpet of rotting vegetation and everything was silent. Vivid orchids grew on the tree-trunks and great golden, scarlet and deep-blue flowers bloomed. Climbing plants twined round every tree. We only heard sounds of wild life at dawn and sunset—a chorus of howler monkeys screaming in the tree-tops, and the shrill chatter of parakeets. In the distance we heard drums beating.

"War drums," said Lord John.

"Yes," said the elder Gomez, "wild Indians. They watch us every mile of the way. Catch us if they can."

We were getting near the landmark Professor Challenger remembered as the way to the secret plateau. Suddenly he spotted a tall palm tree and a band of light-green rushes which marked the opening. We pushed through with our canoes and found ourselves on another stream, shallow, rippling and crystal-clear. It led through a green tunnel of trees into a fairyland of beauty. The drums could no longer be heard and there were sounds of birds and animals moving among the gorgeous vegetation.

"No Indians here—too much afraid of Curupuri," said Gomez.

"Curupuri is the spirit of the woods," explained Lord John.

After three days, we had to leave our canoes and wade through swamps infested with mosquitoes. Then the way began to lead upwards. The woods thinned out and there were clumps of palm-trees, with brushwood in between. As we went on, the two professors constantly squabbled about which of them was in charge of the expedition.

We continued for nine more days, and then had to cut a pathway through a thicket of bamboos. We could hear heavy animals plunging about nearby. Then as we reached the first of a series of hills we saw, about a mile away, something which looked like a great grey bird. It flapped slowly off the ground, and skimmed smoothly away into the tree-ferns.

Challenger cried, "Summerlee, did you see it?"

"What do you claim it was?"

"To the best of my belief, a pterodactyl!"

"A ptero-fiddlesticks!" laughed Summerlee. "It was a stork, if ever I saw one!"

Lord John had his binoculars to his eyes.

"That wasn't like any bird I ever saw before," he said, thoughtfully.

We were nearing our journey's object, and were on the brink of the unknown.

At last we stood at the foot of the towering cliffs which ringed the plateau, and looked up at the overhanging tops which made them impossible to climb. Only the column of rock was at a lower level, but it was separated from the plateau by a wide gap.

"There must be a way up somewhere," puzzled Challenger, "or how did Maple White manage it, to see that monster which he drew?"

"There's no proof yet that any living creatures are up there," scoffed Professor Summerlee. He was soon to eat his words.

We tracked our way all round the cliff base, over rocks and swampy ground. It took us several days. At one point we found traces of an old camp-fire, and followed arrows chalked on the cliffs, perhaps by Maple White. These led us to the mouth of a cave, which might have led upwards, but it was blocked by fallen rocks. Our most gruesome discovery was a human skull, gleaming white, in the centre of a tall clump of sharp bamboo canes. Near it was a skeleton. A silver cigarette case, with initials, suggested to Challenger that it might have belonged to one of Maple White's party.

"He must have fallen off the cliff. unfortunate fellow!" said Lord John.

"Did he fall—or was he pushed?" I wondered.

We decided to camp for the night and have supper. Lord John had shot a small wild pig, and we made a fire and started to roast it. Although there was no moon, we could see a short distance across the plain by starlight. Suddenly, out of the night, swooped something with a swish like an aeroplane. We were covered for a second by a canopy of leathery wings. I saw a long, snake-like neck, a red greedy eye and a great snapping beak. The next moment it was gone—and so was our dinner! A huge black shadow, twenty feet across, blotted out the stars and vanished over the cliff.

After a pause, Professor Summerlee broke the silence.

"Professor Challenger," he said solemnly, "I owe you an apology."

It was worth a stolen supper to have these two men shake hands and make friends at last.

In the morning we were determined to tackle the column of rock, which seemed the only way up. Challenger had brought a long coil of strong rope and other climbing equipment. He was the first to get to the top, and fastened the rope round the truck of the big tree on the summit. The rest of us were then pulled up, and found ourselves on a grassy platform, about twenty five feet square. We were amazed at the view of the great plain below us, and beyond it the forest through which we had passed, but Challenger was eager to get on to the plateau.

"This tree is the answer to our problem," he said, excitedly. "All we need is a bridge across the gap."

It was a brilliant idea. The tree already sloped that way, and, if it were cut carefully, it would fall straight across the gap. The Professor had brought an axe. He asked Lord John and me, as the youngest and fittest, to fell the tree. We worked with all our might for an hour, and then there was a rending crack. The tree toppled, and its branches rested among the bushes on the other side.

Naturally the Professor wanted to be the first across, and bounded over eagerly. We followed more cautiously, and I tried not to look down. Lord John strolled coolly across. That man had nerves of steel.

We had hardly gone fifty paces when there was a dreadful crash behind us. We rushed back, and found that our bridge had vanished—tumbled into the abyss. What could have happened?

The answer was not far to seek. The gloating face of the elder Gomez appeared, twisted with hatred. It was he and his brother who had managed to dislodge the truck, with the help of a great loose branch.

"There you are, you English dog!" he screamed at Lord John, "and there you will remain! You killed Pedro lopez five years ago and this is my revenge! You are trapped, every one of you!"

With that, he scrambled down the column of rock. Lord John ran along the edge of the plateau and fired a shot. There was a scream and the thud of a falling body.

"This is all my fault," said Lord John. "I should have remembered how long these fellows bear a grudge."

Down on the plain we saw the other brother captured by our faithful negro, Zamba. Soon Zamba's honest face and burly form appeared at the top of the column. He was now our only link with the outside world.

"I will not leave you," he cried, "but the Indians have run away. They're afraid of Curupuri!"

He untied the rope from the tree stump and threw it over to us. With its help we were able to drag some provisions and ammunition over the gap, but it was too short for us to climb down. We were in a hopeless position, as far from human aid as if we had been on the moon.

It was lucky I had some old notebooks and a pencil with me to record some of the amazing experiences we had on this plateau. I had already made a chart of our journey so far.

We established our headquarters in a clearing, protected by a barrier of thorny bushes. In this we stacked our supplied. A huge gingko tree overshadowed our small fort and a stream ran close by. The climate was not too hot. We were safe as long as we made no noise. Lord John said: "We must have a good look at our neighbours before we get on visiting terms!" We christened the plateau Maple White Land, after its first discoverer.

The first sign of life we found was an enormous three-toed track-print in the soft mud near the stream.

"By George!" exclaimed Lord John. "This surely must be the grandfather of all birds!"

Among the huge prints was what looked like the mark of a five-fingered human hand.

"I've seen this before," cried Challenger, "—in fossilised tracks in clay. It's a creature walking erect on three-toed feet and occasionally putting a five-fingered fore-paw to the ground. Not a bird, my dear Roxton—a reptile! It's a dinosaur!"

With that, we came upon a glade where there were five of the most extraordinary creatures I had ever seen. We crouched in the bushes and watched them in amazement.

They looked like monstrous kangaroos, twenty feet long, with scaly skins like black crocodiles.

They sat up, balancing themselves on their powerful tails, and pulled down branches with their five-fingered forefeet, eating the green shoots. They were enormously strong, able to tear whole branches off the trees. Two were parents, the other three young ones. Their brains were very small and their reactions slow. They lumbered peacefully off in search of more food.

"What are they?" asked Lord John.

"Iguanodons," said Summerlee. "They're vegetarian dinosaurs. You'll find their tracks all over the south of England. They died out when there was not enough green stuff to keep them going. Here conditions haven't changed and the beasts have survived."

These monstrous creatures were unlikely to hurt anybody, but we did not know what other, more ferocious, survivals we might find.