Kitabı oku: «The Web of the Golden Spider», sayfa 14
CHAPTER XXII
The Taste of Rope
Stubbs was lying flat upon his chest staring anxiously down into the fissure where Wilson had disappeared when suddenly he felt a weight upon his back and another upon each of his outstretched arms. In spite of this, he reached his knees, but the powerful brown men still clung. He shook himself as a mad bull does at the sting of the darts. It was just as useless. In another minute he was thrown again, and in another, bound hand and foot with a stout grass rope. Without a word, as though he were a slain deer, he was lifted to their shoulders and ignominiously carted down the mountain side. It was all so quickly done that he blinked back at the sun in a daze as though awaking from some evil dream. But his uncomfortable position soon assured him that it was a reality and he settled into a sullen rage. He had been captured as easily as a drunken sailor is shanghaied.
They never paused until they lowered him like a bundle of hay within a dozen feet of where he had tethered his burros. Instantly he heard a familiar voice jabbering with his captors. In a few minutes the Priest himself stepped before him and studied him curiously as he rolled a cigarette.
“Where is the other?” he asked.
“Find him,” growled Stubbs.
“Either I or the Golden One will find him,–that is certain. There is but one pass over the mountain,” he added in explanation.
“Maybe. What d’ ye want of us, anyway?”
The Priest flicked the ashes from his cigarette.
“What did you want–by the hut yonder? Your course lay another way.”
“Ain’t a free man a right up there?”
“It is the shrine of the Golden One.”
“It ain’t marked sech.”
“But you have learned–now. It is better in a strange country to learn such things before than afterwards.”
“The same to you–’bout strange people.”
The Priest smoked idly a few minutes longer.
“Where is the other?” he asked again.
“Ask your Golden Man.”
“He knows only the dead. Shall I wait?”
“Jus’ as you damned please,” growled Stubbs.
He saw no use in trying to pacify this devil. Even if he had seen a hope, it would have gone too much against him to attempt it. He felt the same contempt for him that he would of a mutinous sailor; he was just bad,–to be beaten by force and nothing else.
The yellow teeth showed between the thin lips.
“The bearded men are like kings until–they lie prostrate like slaves.”
Stubbs did not answer. His thoughts flew back to Wilson. He pictured his return to find his partner gone. Would he be able to climb out of that ill-fated hole without aid? It was possible, but if he succeeded, he might fall into worse hands. At any cost he must turn suspicion aside from that particular spot. Apparently it had as yet no especial significance, if its existence were known at all, to the natives.
“My partner,” said Stubbs, deliberately, “has gone to find the girl.”
“And you waited for him–up there in the sun?”
“Maybe.”
“He had better have remained with you.”
“There would have been some dead niggers if he had.”
“My friend,” said the Priest, “before morning I shall know if you have told the truth this time. In the meanwhile I shall leave you in the company of my children. I hope you will sleep well.”
“D’ ye mean to keep me tied like this till morning?”
“I see no other way.”
“Then damn your eyes if–”
But he bit off the phrase and closed his eyes against the grinning face before him. As a matter of fact, he had made a discovery which brought with it a ray of hope. He found that with an effort he was able to bring his teeth against the rope where it passed over his shoulder. His hands were tied behind his back, but with the slack he would gain after gnawing through the rope, he would be able to loosen them. They had taken his revolver, but they had overlooked the hunting knife he always carried within his shirt suspended from his neck–a precaution which had proved useful to him before. The very thing he now hoped for was that they would leave him as he was.
The Priest departed and did not appear again. The three brown men settled down on their haunches and fell into that state of Indian lethargy which they were able to maintain for days, every sense resting but still alert. With their knees drawn up to their chins they chewed their coca leaves and stared at their toes, immovable as images. Stubbs looked them over; they did not appear to be strong men. Their arms and legs were rounded like those of women, and their chests were thin. He wondered now why he had not been able to shake them off.
Stubbs settled back to wait, but every now and then he deliberately tossed, turning from his back to his side and again to his back. He had two objects in mind; to keep the watchmen alert so that the strain would tell eventually in dulled senses, and to throw them off their guard when the time came that the movements really meant something. But they never even looked up; never shifted their positions. Each had by his side a two-edged sword, but neither revolver nor rifle. His own Winchester still lay in the grass near the hut, if they had not stolen it.
In this way several hours passed before he made the first move towards escape. They gave him neither water nor nourishment. So he waited until dark. Then he turned his head until his teeth rested upon the rope. He remained in this position without moving for ten minutes and then slowly, carefully began to nibble. The rope was finely knit and as tough as raw hide. At the end of a half hour he had scarcely made any impression at all upon it. At the end of an hour he had started several strands. The wiry threads irritated his lips and tongue so that they soon began to bleed, but this in turn softened the rope a trifle. The three brown men never stirred. The stars looked down impartially upon the four; also upon the girl by the lake and the man in the cave. It was all one to them.
He gnawed as steadily and as patiently as a rat. Each nibble soon became torture, but he never ceased save to toss a bit that the guards might not get suspicious. The dark soon blurred their outlines, but he had fixed their positions in his mind so that he could have reached them with his eyes shut. At the end of the third hour he had made his way half through the rope. It took him two hours more to weaken one half of the remainder. The pain was becoming unendurable. He quivered from head to foot each time he moved his jaw, for his lips were torn to the quick. His tongue was shredded; his chest damp with blood. Finally he ceased. Then carefully, very carefully, threw back his shoulders so as to bring a strain to the rope. He felt it pull apart, and sank to rest a bit.
Apparently he lay without moving. The brown men were like dead men. But inch by inch he had drawn the rope slack until he was able to unwind it from his wrists. Then by half inches he moved his hands free, slipping one of them from behind him to his side. It seemed to him as though Nature herself had paused to watch and listen. He turned now with his free hand beneath him. Slowly his fingers crept towards his chest, grasped the sheath, freed the blade, and then back to his side once more. He turned to his back, his hand behind him, his fingers grasping the horn handle.
His feet were still bound, but he figured that he could raise himself to a sitting posture and sever these with a single slash at the moment he sprang. But he must be quick–must be strong–must be calm. To this end he stretched himself upon his back and waited. If he were able to kill the first man with a single blow, he felt he would stand more than an equal chance with the two others. He was an adept in the use of the knife.
In a flash he was upright; in another he had cut through the rope on his ankles. He leaped forward, striking deep as his feet touched the earth. The knife sank to the hilt in the brown body. One of the others was reaching for his sword as Stubbs struck home again. But as he drew out his knife, the third was rushing for him with his long sword in his hands. He never reached him. With the skill of long experience, Stubbs threw his knife with the speed of an arrow from a bow. It struck the man just above the heart and he stumbled over his own feet. Stubbs melted into the shadow of the trees.
Once out of sight of the scene of this struggle, he stopped and listened. If this were all of them, there were several things he would get before he returned to the heights. A light breeze rustled the heavy tops above him, but otherwise the world seemed sound asleep. There was not the cracking of a twig–not the movement of a shadow. He ventured back. The three forms, save that they had settled into awkward positions, looked very much as they had a few minutes ago when they had stood between him and freedom. He passed them, stopping to recover his knife, and then moved on to where he had hidden the provisions. He took a rope, a can of beef, some crackers, and a small quantity of coca leaves. Then he went to the spring nearby and soothed his sore throat and mouth with water. He also filled a quart flask which he tied behind him. Returning to the caché, he covered it up again and, placing a roll of the coca leaves beneath his tongue, started on the ascent.
The dawn was just appearing in a flush of pink when he reached the top. A reconnaissance of the rocks around the hut and at the entrance to the crevice convinced him that no guards had been left here. Evidently the Priest had not thought their capture of supreme importance. It was more an act of precaution than anything else.
He felt more refreshed at the top of the peak than he had at the bottom and, wondering at this, it suddenly occurred to him that this was the effect of the coca leaves. He had heard in Bogova that the natives under its influence were able to endure incredible hardships without other nourishment of any kind. He took a larger mouthful. At any rate, they acted as balm upon his tongue and macerated lips. He felt no inclination to rest. Even had he felt fatigue, his anxiety over Wilson would have forbidden further delay.
He fastened one end of his rope securely about a point of rock and then sat down to study the map once more. He realized that he would need the help of every detail of these directions. Already he had committed them to memory,–he was calmer than Wilson about it and so had remembered them better,–but he went over them once more. There was more than treasure at stake this time.
He lowered himself into the crevice which had swallowed up his companion, with almost a sense of relief at being for the moment beyond the power of the Priest. He was tempted to cut the rope behind him, but a brief examination convinced him that this would be foolhardy. He still had sufficient left for an emergency–in case the rope was drawn up from above. Two men should stand a better chance of getting out of here than would a single man.
At the end of the first ten feet along the narrow path Stubbs felt much less confident than at the start that Wilson was alive. And he worked his way along the dangerous course with increasing fear. It was with a gasp of relief that he finally saw the opening ahead of him which marked the end. He paused to shout. He received no reply. He called his comrade’s name again. The dark walls about him caught his voice and imprisoned it.
Taking new risks, he pushed ahead. To the left he saw the cave mouth. He stopped once more, half fearing what he should find, and ran the remaining steps. At the entrance to the cave itself he stumbled over a prostrate body.
CHAPTER XXIII
The Spider Snaps
Stooping, Stubbs ran his hand down the length of Wilson’s arm and felt for his pulse. He caught a weak but steady beat. Prying open his mouth, he poured a large mouthful of water down the dry throat. Wilson quickly revived and begged for more.
“No, m’ son, this’ll do fer now. You’ll need it worse later on. An’ I’m darned glad to see yer again.”
“How–how long have I been here, Stubbs?” panted Wilson.
“Nigh twenty-four hours.”
“A day–a whole day wasted!”
“An’ another cross agin yer fren’ the Priest.”
“Was it he?”
“Th’ same.”
He gave Wilson a little food and a wisp of the coca leaves to chew and briefly told him what he had just been through. He concluded with a wave of his hand about him.
“So here we are at last, an’ a crew of savages waitin’ fer us at the top, which makes a fine and fittin’ end fer any v’yage upon which I embarks.”
“Water–give me more water.”
Stubbs rested the bottle to the man’s lips a moment and then had to fight with him to get it away.
“Now,” said Stubbs, “if ye’ve gut th’ breath, tell me, has ye explored at all?”
Wilson shook his head. He answered vaguely, his thoughts still upon the one thing.
“A day wasted and the Priest on his way! He said within a day, didn’t he, Stubbs? Lord! we’ve got to get out of here; we’ve got to get to her. He’ll kill them both–”
Wilson struggled to his feet and plunged towards the exit to the cave. Stubbs was upon him in a second and bore him down.
“Gawd, man, h’ain’t yer any sense left at all?”
A second later he repented his sharp speech, and added,
“There, lay still a moment, lad. I knows how yer feel, but we might’s well look aroun’ an’ find out how much bigger damned fools we are. Ye’ve gotter git yer strength before ye can move back over that course.”
“The treasure is there,” whispered Wilson; “but, Stubbs, I want more water–buckets of it.”
“What’s there?”
“Diamonds–diamonds, and not a drop of water.”
Stubbs did not believe it. He took it to be the hallucination of a man weak with thirst. But one thing was settled in his mind: if the cave were empty, he wouldn’t waste any more time here. Danger was increasing with every minute. He pawed his way into the rear of the cave and had not gone ten feet before he stumbled over the same pile Wilson had found. He seized a handful of the stones and made his way back to the light.
The jewels sparkled in his rough palm like chips from the stars themselves. They were of all sizes from a beechnut to a pecan. Even roughly cut and polished as they were, they still flashed back their rainbow hues with pointed brilliancy. He picked out a large yellow diamond which even in this dim light glowed like molten gold in a fog; another which imprisoned the purple of the night sky; and another tinged with the faint crimson of an afterglow. Jumbled together in his hand, they were a scintillating pile of tiny, living stars, their rays fencing in a dazzling play of light. Even to Stubbs, who knew nothing of the stones, they were so fascinating that he turned them over and over with his finger to watch their twinkling iridescence.
Just those he held there now were such as a lapidary would spend his life willingly in the getting. If not another stone were found in the cave, these alone represented a fortune worthy of the expedition. Each stone as it stood was worth probably from three to eight hundred dollars, and some of the larger would run into the thousands. It was difficult to realize their full value here where they counted for so little,–no more than the rays of the stars themselves,–here where so many others lay in a heap like broken glass. Vaguely Stubbs grasped the fact that he had in his possession the worth of many good ships and freedom for the rest of his life. Yet he thrilled less with this thought than he did with the sheer joy of discovery. A man will cherish a dime he picks up on the street more than he does a five-dollar bill in his pocket. It was this spirit of treasure-trove that got into his blood, sending a tingle of new life through his veins. He tried to rouse Wilson to it.
“Come here, man,” he shouted. “Come here and see what we’ve got. God! there’s millions in this cave!”
But Wilson lifted his head indifferently.
“I don’t give a damn,” he answered.
“You haven’t seen ’em sparkle–you haven’t gut it inter yer head! Ye’re rich–richer than Danbury!”
He hurried back to where Wilson sat and thrust the jewels before his eyes.
“D’ ye see ’em?” he cried excitedly. “Bigger ’n yer thumb?”
For a second his old-time suspicion and doubt returned.
“But maybe,” he added sorrowfully, “maybe they’re jus’ glass. Jus’ my luck.”
Nevertheless he believed sufficiently in them to return to the quest. He struck match after match, wandering farther and farther into the darkness, hoping to find something with which he could make light enough to see around him. He gave a little cry of joy as he came upon an old-time altar light–a platter of oil containing a crude wick. He lighted this. The flame sputtered feebly, died down, then revived to a big, steady flame. With his arms at his side, his mouth wide open, he gaped at what the light revealed.
The cave was not large; this lamp disclosed its boundaries. It also disclosed other things, chief of which was a leering idol some three feet tall which squatted, cross-legged, with one hand extended. This hand held a polished diamond larger than a walnut. The eyes were of ruby which, catching the light, burned with ghoul-like ferocity, while the mouth grinned,–grinned with a smile which strangely resembled that of the Priest. The image was of gold. To the right and left, piled up as though they had been hastily thrown together, was a jumble of vases, bowls, plates, shields, all of beaten gold. They made a heap some four feet high, and from six to eight feet broad at the base. Strewn about the foot of this were many little leather bags tied at the top with dried sinews.
Minute after minute Stubbs stared at this sight in silence. There was more gold here than he thought existed in the world,–so much that it lost its value. Here was enough almost to load down a ship. If he could crowd a few hundred dollars into a bag small enough to stuff into his pocket, this must run up into the millions. He had always spoken of a man worth a million with a certain amount of awe and doubt; and here lay ten, perhaps fifty, times that amount. At the end of forty years of sailing the seas he had saved a little over three thousand dollars against the days he should be old and feeble. Three thousand dollars! Two or three of those stones he had slipped into his pocket,–four or five of these plates of which there were hundreds!
He moved forward and tried to lift one of the big vases of crudely beaten gold. With his full weight against it, he could scarcely move it. Farther on there was a bar of gold heavier than three men could carry. To the left of this there was a pile of golden shields studded with jewels, strange ornaments, and heavy plates. Back of this he caught a glimpse of still other ingots of gold in the shadows.
And always the big image held extended towards him with a cynical leer the big, polished diamond which seemed rather to give out light from within itself than to reflect the altar flames. It blazed with a brilliancy that he had never seen equalled save by the stars on faultless winter nights.
He was too dumbfounded at first to take it all in. He turned about in a circle, resting his eyes again upon one thing after another, and then raised his hand and looked at that to make sure that he was seeing correctly–was not the victim of some strange illusion. Yes, his eyes were all right; he saw his calloused, big-jointed hand–the hand which had labored so long for a millionth part of what he now saw here. The gold and the jewels were within arms’ reach of him–there was no longer any doubt about that. His luck must have turned.
He moved back to where Wilson still lay sprawled out upon his back only half conscious of his surroundings. He tried to speak calmly, but he blurted out,
“Gawd, man, there’s tons of it!”
Wilson did not move or speak.
“Shiploads of it. Man! Man! wake up an’ see what’s afore yer eyes!”
“What is it, Stubbs?”
“Gold! Gold! Gold! The stuff thet outside here yer haster fight ter git a pinch of,–the stuff I’ve sailed aroun’ the worl’ ter git a handful of; the stuff ye’ve come so far on the bare chance of seein’.”
“It’s here, then? The treasure is here?”
“More than ever ye dreamed of. Small wonder that Sorez was willin’ ter take chances agin the Priest if he knew of this.”
Wilson brushed his hand over his eyes. The name roused him. This meant getting back to Sorez–getting back to him with proof of the treasure and so releasing the girl. He made his feet and stood a moment with his hand upon Stubbs’ shoulder.
“I’m glad, Stubbs,” he answered. “Now–now let’s get back to her.”
“Aye, we’ll get back, but first we’ve got ter figger out some way for gittin’ of this stuff out.”
As a matter of fact, they learned that they were really facing something of a problem. It was a marvel how ever these things were got down here, but it would be a still greater task to get them out again. Twenty fanatical worshipers of the Sun God gave their lives to bearing these priceless offerings from the lake to this cave with the incentive of winning everlasting happiness. It was a different problem for two tired and nerve-exhausted men to retrace their steps.
Even if it were possible to get the treasure to the surface, it would need a small army of men and burros to carry it over the mountains to civilization, and another small army to defend it while on the journey. It would be almost equally impossible, probably, for them ever again to reach this cave. If they were successful in getting out of this country alive now that the Priest was roused and the natives incensed over the death of their fellows, it certainly would be sure death ever to return. As for organizing a company either at Bogova or in America for the purpose of removing the treasure, Stubbs had the usual independent man’s distrust of such means. It became clearer to him every minute that the only share of this hoard of which they ever could be sure was what they might now take out with them. This practically eliminated the vast store of golden implements, for it was impossible to carry even the smallest of them on their shoulders over so rough and dangerous a trail as this. It began to look as though they had reached this treasure at length merely to be tantalized by it. The very thought was like a nightmare.
His eyes fell upon the small leather bags. Stooping, he picked up one of them, untied it and poured its contents upon the cave floor; a flashing stream of rubies rippled out and glowed at his feet in a tiny, blood-red heap. And there were a dozen more of these bags in sight!
“Lord, man!” he exclaimed below his breath, “it’s ’nuff to make yer b’lieve ye’re dreamin’.”
The jewels gave him fresh courage. Here, at any rate, was a fortune which was within their present reach. They could carry these things back with them even though they were forced to leave the bulk of the treasure in its heavier form. A single one of these little leather bags was sufficient to repay them for their trouble if they didn’t get anything else. But one thing was sure–their single chance of escaping with even these was to start at once. The Priest would undoubtedly have the whole region up in arms before dark, and, if he didn’t find them before, would have a force at the mountain pass. It went against his grain to abandon such riches as these, but life and a few million was better than death with all the gold in the world piled about your tomb.
To Wilson, who in the last few minutes had become more himself, the treasure still meant just one thing–the opportunity of freeing Jo. With this evidence he could return to Sorez and persuade him of the futility of his search in the lake itself and induce him to join his party and escape while there was time. If he didn’t succeed in this, he would take the girl even if he had to do so by force.
“It’s a case of grab and jump,” said Stubbs. “You gather up the loose stones on the floor and I’ll collect the bags. The sooner we gets to the top, th’ better.”
Stubbs took the altar light and made a careful search of the bottom of the cave for jewels. These were the things which embodied in the smallest weight the most value. It made him groan every time he passed an ingot of gold or some massive vase which he knew must run into the thousands, but at the end of ten minutes he felt better; the stones alone were sufficient to satisfy even the most avaricious. About the base of the grinning idol they found fourteen leather bags, each filled with gems. The loose diamonds which had been roughly thrown into a small pile would fill four bags more. Even Wilson became roused at sight of these. He began to realize their value and the power such wealth would give him. If the girl was still alive, he now had the means of moving an army to her aid. If she was still alive–but the day was waning and the Priest, now thoroughly aroused, doubtless moving towards her intent upon wiping out every stranger, man or woman, in the hills.
Stubbs was for going farther back into the cave and exploring some of the recesses into which they had not yet looked at all. But Wilson, with returning strength, became impatient again. The coca leaves which he had chewed constantly brought him new life.
“Lord! would you sell the girl for a few more bags of jewels, Stubbs?” he burst out.
The latter straightened instantly and came nearer. But before he had time to speak, Wilson apologized.
“No, I know better, comrade, but I can’t wait any longer to get to her. I’m five years older than I was a day ago.”
The while they were gathering the little bags full of jewels, the big image in the corner smiled his smile and offered them the big diamond in his hand; the while they buckled the bags about their waists–as precious belts as ever men wore–the image smiled and offered; as they moved towards the mouth of the cave it still insisted. Yet for some reason neither man had felt like taking the stone. Stubbs felt a bit superstitious about it, while Wilson felt enough reverence, even for heathen gods, to refrain. But still it smiled and offered. In the flickering flare of the altar light the stone burned with increasing brilliancy. It was as though it absorbed the flames and, adding new fuel, flashed them forth again.
Wilson led the way out. Before they left the cave Stubbs turned. He saw the image once again, and once again the stone. The temptation was too great, especially now that they were on the point of leaving–perhaps forever. He started back and Wilson tried to check him.
“I wouldn’t, Stubbs. Those eyes look too ugly. It is only the mouth that smiles and–”
“Ye haven’t turned heathen yerself, have ye?” he called back.
He stepped forward and clutched it. But the jewel was fastened in some way although it seemed a bit loose. He pulled strongly upon it and the next second leaped back, warned in time by a suspicious rumbling above his head. He looked down to see a slab of granite weighing half a ton on the spot where he had stood a moment before. It was an ingenious bit of mechanism arranged to protect the treasure; the jewel had been attached by a stout cord which, when pulled, loosed the weight above. Not only this, but it became evident in a few seconds that it loosed also other forces–whether by design or chance, the two men never determined. They had pressed back to the path outside the cave, when they heard a rumble like distant thunder, followed instantly by a grinding and crashing. Before their eyes a large section of the cliff crashed down over the cave itself and into the chasm below. They didn’t wait to see what followed, but made their way along the path as fast as they dared.
Neither man spoke again until a half hour later after a journey that was like a passage through Hell, they lay exhausted in the sunlight above the chasm. The thunder of tumbling rock still pounded at their ears.
