Kitabı oku: «Real Gold: A Story of Adventure», sayfa 13

Chapter Twenty Three
At the Bivouac

The boys were heartily glad when, just before nightfall – night, which fell much sooner, shut in there in the deep valleys of the Andes – the colonel snatched at a suggestion made by John Manning.

“Water, sir, coming out of that slit in the rock, plenty o’ breastwork, and a bit of green stuff for the mules.”

“Yes, we’ll halt here. We are not likely to find a better place,” said the colonel.

So instead of tramping on for another hour, a halt was called early, the packages formed into a shelter in front of the “slit” in the rock, as John Manning called it, a place which suggested its being a way into a good-sized cavern, and then a fire was lit, and they prepared their meal.

For no more had been seen of the Indians, and though the colonel had a shrewd suspicion that they might still be in chase of them, those which had been seen in the valley were, he concluded, only wanderers, whom they had startled while on some hunting expedition, and whom they would probably see no more.

The fire was only used to heat the water for their coffee, and as soon as this was made, carefully extinguished by John Manning, so as not to attract attention if any one was still about; and then they sat, glad of the rest, eating biscuit and charqui, and sipping coffee from the tin.

Over the meal, John Manning made a report respecting what he called the commissariat department.

“Stores getting low, sir,” he said.

“Yes, I must supplement them with one of the guns,” said the colonel. “I have been so much taken up with getting the cinchona seed, that I have hardly thought of anything else.”

Very little was said then for some time, the weariness mentally felt by all making them ill disposed for conversation; but just before dark the colonel carefully inspected their surroundings, and with John Manning’s help, made a few arrangements for their defence.

“I don’t think they would dare to attack us if they found where we are,” said the colonel; “but we must be prepared.”

“Is it worth all this trouble and risk, father?” said Perry, who was, in addition to being weary and low-spirited, stiff, and a good deal bruised.

“What! to get the seed, boy?”

Perry nodded.

“Lie down and rest, and wait till the knowledge comes to you, boy. There, I’ll speak out and ask you a question. Do you think it is good for humanity at large for one of the greatest blessings discovered by them, for the prevention and cure of a terrible ill, to be solely under the control of one petty, narrow-minded government, who dole it out to the world just as they please, and at what price they like? Why, such a blessing as quinine ought to be easily accessible all the world round, and if I can succeed in getting our precious little store safely to England, it will be the beginning of a very great work. Worth the trouble? Why, the tenth part of what I have obtained of full ripe seed, of what is undoubtedly the finest white-flowered kind, would be worth a hundred times the labour and risk we have gone through – worth even giving up life, my lad, so that others might benefit by what I have done.”

“But suppose, when we get it to England, it won’t grow,” said Perry.

“Why, you doleful young croaker!” cried the colonel merrily, “I don’t expect it to grow in England. Tropic plants do not flourish in our little, cool, damp isle. There are plenty of places, though, where it would grow, if we get it safely home.”

“Getting it wet isn’t good for it, is it?” said Perry sleepily.

“You are thinking of what you have in your pockets,” said the colonel. “That will not have hurt, for it would dry again pretty soon. – You have yours safe, Cyril?”

“Yes, sir, there’s about three pounds in my pockets.”

“I have as much, and John Manning a little more, while I have a small packet in each of the mules’ loads.”

“So as to make sure of saving some of it?” said Cyril eagerly.

“Yes, that is the idea, my lad,” said the colonel. “Now, boys, Manning and I will take it in turns to watch. There, get a good rest, and don’t think that I should have gone through all this labour, risk, and excitement unless I had felt that I was doing something well worthy of the trouble; so make up your minds to get it safely to San Geronimo.”

He left them, as usual, to see where the mules were grazing, and Cyril sat gazing down before him.

“What’s the matter?” said Perry.

“I was thinking that it’s all very well for you people to get back home, only it isn’t so pleasant for me.”

“Father will speak to Captain Norton for you,” said Perry.

“No: I don’t want him to. I shall speak myself. I wouldn’t have my father see me sneak in behind yours in that cowardly way. Oh dear, I wish it was over!”

“Mules feeding well and all quiet, boys,” said the colonel; “and to all appearance there isn’t a soul near us for miles. – By the way, Manning, did you go into the cave?”

“No, sir. Did you tell me? Seemed too damp to use for sleeping.”

“No, I did not tell you; but get the lantern and let’s look inside. We don’t want to be disturbed by some animal coming out in the night.”

Manning took the battered lantern, and led the way to where the spring came gushing out of what at a distance looked like a long, narrow, sloping crack, but which proved to be, on closer acquaintance, large enough for a man to walk in upright by stepping from stone to stone, round about which the water came gurgling and bubbling out.

It was about a dozen yards from where their fire had been lit, amongst the stones fallen at different times from the heights above; and as they approached, a low musical rippling greeted their ear in a pleasant murmur, suggesting that the spring must come for some distance through a low, natural passage, whose stony walls caused the echoings of silvery splashings, which now grew louder and more strange.

“Yes, too damp-looking for a resting-place,” said the colonel; “and it does not look like the lair of any dangerous beast, but we may as well examine it, and we ought to have done so before. Why, boys, it would make quite a fortress if we had to defend ourselves. Plenty of water-supply, and ample room to drive in the mules.”

John Manning had gone inside at once, and as soon as he was a short distance from the narrow entrance, he struck a light and applied it to the candle within the lantern, holding it above his head, and then cautiously picking his steps along from stone to stone in the bed of the stream.

Whish, whirr, came a peculiar sound, and, as if moved by one impulse, the two boys rushed out, startled, to stand looking back, wondering why the colonel had not followed.

“What was that?” cried Cyril.

“I don’t know. Something rushed by my head,” said Perry excitedly, as he looked vainly round in the dim light, and then back at the faintly lit-up entrance to the cave, where the lantern, now invisible behind a curve, shone upon the moist stone wall.

“Come along back,” cried Cyril; “what cowards they will think us. It must have been birds. Ah! yes; look, dozens of them,” he cried, pointing to where what seemed to be faint shadows kept gliding out and shooting upward over the face of the rock, to disappear at once in the evening gloom.

“Think they are birds?” said Perry, in an awe-stricken voice.

“Birds or bats,” said Cyril. “How stupid to be startled like that! Come along.”

He sturdily led the way back, ashamed of the sudden access of fear which had come upon him; though entering so strangely weird-looking a place by the feeble light of a lantern, and when unnerved by long toil and the dangers they had lately passed through, it was not surprising, and stronger folk might easily have been scared.

He had hardly got well inside again before his face was brushed by a soft wing, and he felt ready to run back once more, but this time he mastered the dread, and felt that Perry’s hand was laid upon his arm just as the colonel’s voice, which sounded hollow, echoing, and strange, said softly: “Goes in, perhaps, for miles. – Look, boys.”

The voice sounded close to his ear; but to his surprise he found that the lantern was quite a hundred yards in, and the light glimmering from the surface of the tiny stream, while there was plenty of room on either side for them to walk.

“Where are you, boys?” said the colonel, more loudly.

“Here, sir; coming,” cried Cyril, who grasped the fact, now, that their sudden rush out had not been noticed.

“It’s all safe so far; no crevices or chasms,” said the colonel; and as the two lads approached, “Did you see the birds? They are flying about overhead in flocks. Hark at the rush of their wings!”

As he ceased speaking, and his voice was no longer reverberating and whispering about overhead, a peculiar fluttering, whirring sound, as of many wheels in rapid motion, struck upon the boys’ ears, a sound which added strangely to the mysterious air of the place. It was evident, too, that the roof was now far above their heads, giving room for the strange dwellers in darkness to wheel and swoop about, often so close that the wind raised by their pinions beat upon the explorers’ cheeks.

“Lucky I’d got the lantern door shut,” said John Manning, in a strange whisper, “or they’d have blown it out a dozen times over. – Shall I go any farther, sir?”

“No; it is of no use. But what a hiding-place! There’s room, Manning, for quite a brigade. – What’s that?”

A sharp crash fell upon their ears, as of a stone dislodged somewhere high up in the distance; and this was evidently the case, for they heard it rattle down, loosening others, and sending a reverberating echo along the cavern, which told of its vastness being greater than they had before imagined.

“One of the birds loosened a stone, sir,” said John Manning. “Look out: here they come.”

For, evidently alarmed by the falling stones, there was now the rush as of a mighty wind, and the little party could feel that a great flock of birds was passing overhead toward the entrance, hurriedly making their escape out into the open air.

“Let’s follow their example,” said the colonel; “we are only wasting time. But this would make a capital retreat if we were attacked; and we could defend it against hundreds.”

“Till we were starved, or burned out,” grumbled John Manning.

“It would take a forest on fire to burn us out of this, sir,” said the colonel. “What! make difficulties? We have plenty to encounter without. Now then, forward with the light.”

John Manning faced round, and led on at once, while, as he held up the lantern, the dark mass of birds in a regular train could be seen passing on toward the entrance, which was reached directly after, both boys uttering a sigh of relief on finding themselves once more in the outer darkness, where they could breathe freely, and feel as if a great danger had been escaped.

Chapter Twenty Four
The Cave’s Mouth

As soon as they were outside, Cyril looked round for the birds, expecting to see them swooping about in all directions, but there was nothing visible between him and the stars; and with the peculiar nervous feeling which he had felt in the cavern assailing him again, he turned to the colonel, who laughed.

“Well,” he said, “did you think it was something of what the Scotch call ‘no canny,’ my lad?”

Cyril felt more uncomfortable still.

“Do you think they really were birds?” he said.

“Of course; the South American cave-bird. A regular nocturnal creature.”

“What! a sort of owl, sir?”

“No. Perry here has seen their relatives at home.”

“I? No, father,” said the boy wonderingly.

“Nonsense. What about the nightjars you have seen hawking round the oak trees in Surrey, after sunset?”

“Oh yes, I remember them,” cried Perry.

“Well, these are, I fancy, birds of a similar kind, but instead of frequenting trees, they live in flocks in these dark caverns, and go out of a night to feed. Our light startled them just as they were about to take flight. This must be one of their great breeding-places. – But no more chatter. Sleep, and get a good night’s rest.”

Easier said than done. The boys lay down in company with John Manning, but it was long enough before either Cyril or Perry could drop off! They would close their eyes, but only by an effort, for they were always ready to start open again at some sound high up on one or the other side of the narrow winding valley. It was cold too, in spite of the blankets, and when Cyril did at last slumber, he felt that he could hardly have been asleep an hour, as he started up into wakefulness again.

Something was wrong he was sure, and he stretched out his hand to touch John Manning, who awoke instantly and sat up.

“All right,” he said, in a low voice.

“No, no, don’t move,” whispered Cyril, grasping his arm. “I fancied I heard something.”

“Eh? Fancied? Perhaps it was fancy, sir. I’ll ask the colonel.”

“Listen first.”

They knelt there in the darkness, attent for some minutes.

“Don’t hear anything, sir. I’ll go and speak to the colonel. What did you fancy?”

“I – I don’t know,” faltered Cyril. “It must have been while I was asleep. Yes,” he whispered excitedly, “that was it.”

“The mules!” said the old soldier. “What are they doing here in camp?”

For there came plainly now the soft pattering of hoofs on the stony ground, and directly after a tall figure loomed up out of the darkness.

“Want me, sir?” said John Manning, in a quick whisper.

“As you are awake, yes. There is something stirring close at hand, whether wild beast or Indian I can’t say. Keep watch, and cover us while I get the mules into that cave.”

John Manning’s double gun was already in his hand, and he stood fast while the colonel went by with the leading mule, the others following. Then directly after the soft pattering ceased, and the watchers knew that the patient animals had been led right into the cave.

“Hear anything, Master Cyril?” whispered John Manning.

“No.”

“And one can’t see down in this dark gash,” grumbled the man. “We humans are worse off than any of the animals. We can’t see so well, nor hear so well, nor smell so well, nor run, nor fly. Lucky for us, we’ve got gumption enough to make telescopes and steam-engines and ships, or I don’t know what we should do.”

“Who’s that?” said the colonel, returning. “Cyril?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go and stand at the mouth of the cave, and mind that the mules don’t come out.”

Cyril obeyed, and took up his position on a stone in the gurgling stream, to stand listening to the soft patter of the mules within, and to the faint whispers which came time after time from where he had left the colonel and John Manning.

He had been at his position for some few minutes, turning from time to time in the darkness to cast a furtive look back into the entrance of the cavern, hardly able to restrain a shudder, as he thought of its unknown depths and the strange sound they had heard of the stone falling, and he could not help wishing that Perry was with him for company’s sake.

For there was a terrible feeling of lonesomeness there in the darkness, especially at a time like that, when he had just been roused from an uneasy sleep by something unexplained at which the colonel had taken alarm.

“He said either Indian or wild beast,” mused the boy. “What wild beast could there be?” There were, he knew, the wild varieties of the llamas, guanacoes, and the like, but they were timid, sheep-like creatures; and there were, he knew, pumas, the South American lions, as they were called, and perhaps jaguars – both these latter cat-like, nocturnal creatures; but they were animals of the forests, and not of these sterile, rocky valleys. Still, there might be other dangerous beasts in plenty, and his eyes wandered here and there, and he held his gun ready, though in that deep gloom he felt that he would be quite at the mercy of anything which attacked.

He had just reached this point, when his thoughts took a fresh direction – suppose some savage creature should be in the cave, and suddenly spring upon him from behind.

He turned cold with horror, and tried to call for help, but his mouth and throat were dry from the nervous trepidation he suffered; for he had suddenly been touched just below the shoulders, something big having given him a rude thrust. This was followed by another, which nearly sent him down into the water from the stone.

But he recovered himself, turned sharply, and struck out with his right hand – a quick angry blow, while he felt as angry with himself for his absurd cowardice, the second thrust having awakened him to the fact that he had received a heavy push from the head of one of the mules, which had come silently close up, and was desirous of getting out again into the open air.

Cyril’s blow drove the animal hastily back, and as he stood listening, he heard the effect of his sharp action, for there was a good deal of pattering about when the mule turned sharply to its companions, driving them farther in. Then there was silence once more.

“How easy it is to let one’s self be frightened,” thought Cyril. “I wish I were braver, and more like a man.”

Then he wondered why the colonel and John Manning did not come to him, and whether they were searching about for the cause of alarm. All was very still now, and it was some time since he had heard a whisper.

“Very likely I shall hear a shot fired,” he thought, and making up his mind not to be startled if he did, for that it would be a good sign and a proof that the cause of their night alarm had either been killed or frightened away, he stood gazing out into the darkness in all directions, and then smiled and complimented himself on his firmness.

“Not going to be scared at that,” he muttered, for there had been a sudden clattering of hoofs among the stones inside the cavern – just such a sound as would be made if one of the mules had kicked out at its companions, and made them start.

All was silent again for a minute, and then there was a faint splash.

“One of them gone down to drink,” said Cyril to himself, and he turned now and looked inward along the narrow opening, and could see faintly one of the stars reflected in the black water, now twinkling, now burning brightly. Then it disappeared, as if a cloud had passed across the heavens, though that could not be, for another star gleamed closer to him, but that was blotted out too.

“One of the mules coming out,” he said, starting and raising his hand, when there was a sudden bound made by something which had been crawling slowly out of the cave’s mouth; and as the boy struck at it wildly, his fist touched something warm and soft, and the object, whatever it was, made a stone or two rattle where it alighted, and then was gone.

Cyril raised his gun, but he did not draw trigger, for it was folly to fire quite at random, and he was leaning forward, peering into the darkness, when a faint click made him turn again toward the mouth of the cave, just in time to be driven backward and lose his feet as another of the creatures leaped out and dashed away into the darkness.

Two, and they were not mules, though evidently four-footed creatures. But what could they be? he asked himself, as he recovered his feet and stood with presented piece, his heart throbbing, and his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at the next movement from the cave. They could not be pumas, for the touch he had of the first one’s body was not furry; neither could they be large monkeys, for they would not have smooth bodies, and besides, these creatures were too large.

He was still in doubt, when there was a sound behind him, and as he turned sharply, a husky whisper:

“Don’t fire, my lad. What was that?”

“Did you hear it, Manning?”

“Yes, and had a glint of some one running by me.”

“Some one?”

“Yes. Indian, I think; did you see him?”

Cyril told him of what he had seen, and was just finishing, when there was a faint whisper and a movement of a stone or two as some one hurried up.

“Manning – Cyril – ”

“Yes, sir.” – “Yes, sir.”

“Look out. Some one passed me just now. Who’s this – Perry?”

“Yes, father,” came in excited tones from out of the darkness. “Was it you who fell over me?”

“No: when? where?”

“Just now. Then it must have been Cyril. He went down heavily, but jumped up and ran away.”

“Indians, sir,” said John Manning, in a low angry growl. “They passed the line of sentries, and must have been trying to spot the camp.”

“Absurd.”

“Fact, sir. Ask Mr Cyril here.”

“Yes, sir; two Indians – I thought they were wild beasts – came crawling out of the cave and jumped by me.”

“You saw them?”

“Oh no, sir: it was so dark; but I hit at one of them and felt him.”

“Came out of the cavern?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But are you sure?”

“Quite, sir; I heard them frighten the mules, which began trampling, and then one of the men sprang out.”

“Shall I light the lantern, sir, and go in and see if there’s any more?” growled John Manning.

“No, my man; in all probability there were only the two, and perhaps they were not enemies to be feared. Possibly we have scared them more than they scared us.”

Cyril mentally demurred to that, but said nothing, and the colonel went on:

“I’m afraid our night’s rest has gone,” he said, “for it is impossible to lie down with the knowledge that Indians who may be enemies are about. – Did you see anything as you made your round, John Manning?”

“No, sir; but I heard something twice. It may have been only an animal, but something moved a few little stones up to the left. When I went cautiously up, whatever it was had gone. Did you see or hear anything, sir?”

“I thought I heard a whisper a short distance away, but I could not be sure. I am sure, though, that some one glided by me, and Perry here had the best of evidence that one of the Indians fell over him.”

“Unless it was Cyril; he did lie down to sleep by me, father.”

“I’ve been on guard here by the cave’s mouth for ever so long,” said Cyril sharply, as if resenting the fact that his companion should have been sleeping while he watched.

“Then it was an Indian,” said the boy sharply.

“We have the mules safe, Manning,” said the colonel, “and now we must make sure of the baggage. Stand together, boys, facing two ways, while Manning and I get the packs into the cave.”

“But there may be more Indians in there, sir,” said Cyril.

“If there are, we must drive them out. That must be our fort for the present.”

At that moment there was a faint whistle from a distance, and it was answered from somewhere high up on the mountain-side.