Kitabı oku: «Real Gold: A Story of Adventure», sayfa 2
Chapter Three
Preparing to Start
“Well, did you ask him?” cried Cyril eagerly, as Perry went out into the parched garden, the boy pouncing out upon him from behind a patch of dry-looking shrubs.
“Yes, I asked him, and then your father came in.”
“Yes,” said Cyril eagerly, “I saw him, and kept in hiding, because I thought it best to leave it for you to do. Well, what did your father say?”
“He as good as said no.”
“Yes, at first,” cried Cyril. “I knew he would. But he came round.”
“And then your father came in.”
“Yes?”
“And my father made me ask him what he had to say about it.”
“Yes? Do go on, old chap. You are so slow.”
“The captain was quite angry, and wouldn’t listen to the idea for a moment.”
“That was because he had made his plans for you to stay with me. But he came round, didn’t he?”
“No,” said Perry sadly. “He was firm as a rock, and they are both dead against it. I should have liked for you to come, Cil.”
There was a dead silence; and as Perry looked at his companion, he saw that his brow was full of deep lines, and that the boy’s face looked hard and set, the eyes fixed, and the lips tightened together into quite a hard crease.
Perry looked at him for a few moments, feeling pained to see the way in which the lad took his disappointment.
“I’m so sorry, Cil,” he said at last.
Cyril did not seem to have heard him, and after a pause Perry spoke again.
“Perhaps your father will give way before we go.”
“What?”
Perry started, the word sounded so sharp and harsh.
“I say perhaps he’ll give way before we go.”
“No, he won’t. He never does. Father says a thing, and means it.”
“It’s very disappointing,” said Perry, “but it’s of no use to fret.”
Cyril laughed bitterly.
“You’re going,” he said sharply. “It can’t disappoint you.”
“Yes, it can. I am disappointed. I don’t care about going so much now without you.”
“Then stop here with me,” cried Cyril sharply.
“I can’t,” was the reply. “You wouldn’t give up going if you were me. Don’t let’s think any more about it now, but go and do something.”
Cyril made no reply, but walked straight away out of the garden and then down towards the harbour, while Perry watched him for a few minutes sadly, and then followed slowly, missed sight of him, and after quite a long search found him sitting on the edge of his wharf, where the sun beat down most fiercely, and staring straight out to sea. “Cil!” said Perry, after going close up, but without exciting the slightest notice of his presence.
There was no reply.
“Cil – don’t be sulky with me.”
“Not sulky,” came with quite a snap.
“Well, angry then. It isn’t my fault. I wish you could come.”
“Didn’t say it was your fault.”
“Then why do you take it like that?”
Cyril turned upon him quite fiercely.
“What’s the good of talking?” he cried. “You can’t understand. You go sailing about with your father and seeing things everywhere. I never go even into the forest. It’s horrible always shut up here with book-keeping and classics. I wish sometimes I was only one of the Indians, like that one yonder.”
Perry felt disposed to say, which one? for there was a second Indian close by; but wishing to brighten his companion, and turn the current of his thoughts, he merely said:
“Well, I shouldn’t wish to be a she Indian.”
“Those are not shes – they’re both men,” said Cyril sharply.
Perry looked at the pair incredulously, for they certainly had a most feminine aspect, being broad of figure and face, plump-cheeked, and with thick long hair cut square across the forehead and allowed to hang down behind. Their eyes were dreamy-looking and oblique, their faces perfectly devoid of hair, and to add to their womanish look, they wore a loose kind of cotton garment, which hung down from their shoulders nearly to their ankles.
“I say, what are they doing?” said Perry, as he stared at the pair.
“Taking snuff. That’s their way. They carry some in a little bag, and when they want to take any, they put the powder in that little siphon-like pipe, and hold it to their nose, and another one blows it up. That one sitting down’s the guide father is getting for you. – Here, hi!”
The Indians looked round, nodded, finished the snuff-taking business, and then came deliberately toward the boys.
“They’re Antis,” said Cyril, as Perry watched the two sleepy-looking Indians curiously, and noted that they were both about his own height.
The men came close up, and stood there smiling, waiting to be spoken to; and as Perry had hoped, their presence took Cyril out of himself for the time.
“Been to see my father?” said Cyril in a mongrel kind of Spanish.
One of the Indians nodded.
“And his father too?”
The man replied that he was going now. So Cyril interpreted the few words.
“That’s the worst of them; and it’s so hard to make them understand exactly what you mean. He didn’t know what I meant, and had not been – What say?” For the Indian had muttered something which he repeated.
“Wants to know if I’m going too,” said Cyril bitterly; and he shook his head at the Indian, when both smiled and looked pleased.
Cyril gave his teeth a grind. “You beggars,” he cried in English, “looking glad because I’m disappointed. – And I’ve given that first chap many a good tuck out, and lots of tobacco dust for snuff, and paid him no end of times for birds he has shot with his blowpipe, besides buying butterflies and eggs he has brought down out of the mountains. All right, though; I’ll serve them out. – I say,” cried the boy, and a complete change came over him, “can you speak Spanish?”
“I? No, not a word.”
“That’s a pity. You’ll have to learn a few words, so as to be able to talk to these chaps. But you’ll soon pick them up – some Indian, some Spanish, and some half-and-half. Wait a moment; I want to talk to this chap about – about your going.”
He began to speak to the man in a low voice, and then grew more and more eager, while the Indian began by smiling and looking amused, but, directly after, shook his head, and seemed to be refusing something which Cyril was asking. Then Perry saw the lad put his hand in his pocket and give the Indian a good two-bladed pocket-knife, whose keenness he demonstrated to the great interest of the Indian, who tried it on one of the heavy posts by the wharf, and then transferred it to his pocket with a smile of satisfaction, nodding his head now to everything Cyril said.
Their conversation lasted for some time, and Perry began to grow impatient after he had satisfied his scrutiny of the two Indians’ appearance, and wondered why they should disfigure themselves by painting horizontal lines from their noses across their cheeks.
“There,” cried Cyril, speaking rather excitedly, “it’s all right now. He says he’ll take great care of you, and wait upon you as if you were his father, and always find the best places for sleeping, and mind you don’t tumble down into any of the great gaps. But, I say, Perry, old chap, you do wish I was going, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Ah, well, I suppose I must give in and make the best of it, mustn’t I?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And you can’t write to me and tell me how you are getting on. There are no post-offices up there.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“You suppose not!” cried Cyril, laughing, and looking as if his bitter fit had quite passed away.
“Why, you’re going where you’ll hardly see a soul, unless you meet a party coming down from the mines, or bringing bales of bark. There, I’m not going to look grumpy any more, but I did feel savage for a bit.”
“That’s right. Let’s make the best of it while we’re together, and do some more fishing, or have a mule ride or two.”
“No,” said Cyril decisively, “that’s all over now. Father told me this morning that I should have to work and help you make all your preparations, for there would be no end to do. Come along. They’re going up to see your father now.”
The two Indians were both moving off, and the boys followed to the house, where they were witnesses to the meeting, Captain Norton having followed shortly, and acting as interpreter between the parties.
“It is rather awkward,” he said, “but I daresay you will soon pick up enough of their jargon to make them understand.”
“Oh yes,” said the colonel. “I could gather the man’s meaning from the Spanish words he used.”
“Then you will soon manage. Of course, if you had been a Spaniard, it would have been easy enough.”
“I shall not worry about that part of the business,” said the colonel, “so long as the man is willing, and will do his best. But we shall want two others to attend to the mules.”
“He understands that. He is going to bring another trustworthy fellow. He proposed doing so himself.”
“And they can manage the mules?”
“Oh yes, you may trust them. This man, Diego, as we call him, has been in the habit of coming down from the mountains for years to trade and sell. I consider that I was very lucky in getting him for you. When will you start, shall I tell him?”
“On the sixth day from now.”
“That is soon, is it not?”
“No; that ought to be time enough to get our mule-packs ready, and a sufficiency of stores. I have everything else.”
“Don’t hurry,” said Captain Norton. “You are very welcome here, and I shall regret your going.”
“I know that,” said the colonel warmly, “but I am eager to begin, and shall be restless till I start.”
The captain nodded, and said a few words to the Indians, who replied, and then took their departure, it being fully understood that they would be there, ready, on the sixth morning.
“Ha!” exclaimed the colonel, “that is satisfactory. – Now then, Perry, my boy, call up John Manning to unpack the luggage, and we’ll make our selection of what we mean to take. Captain Norton will keep in store for us all that we decide to leave, and he will help us with his experience in making our selection. – And you will help too, Cyril, will you not?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Thanks. Sorry I can’t take you, my lad, but your father is right.”
Those next five days passed almost like magic. Six highly-bred mules were selected by Captain Norton’s help, and furnished with packages and hide ropes, besides more for riding purposes.
“But we shan’t be able to manage so many, sir,” said John Manning, a lithe, dry-looking man of about forty, who had been the colonel’s servant when he was in the army, and had stayed with him ever since, to Perry’s great disgust; for the lad declared that he was the most disagreeable fellow under the sun, since he was always grumbling.
It was quite true, for he found fault with everything to the two boys; though silent, as if he were still in the ranks, in the presence of the colonel. But he quite won Cyril’s heart in one of his grumbles, and always after, during their preparations, the boy declared that he was capital fun, and that he liked him.
“There, young gentlemen,” said John, “that’s as much toggery as I can get in the colonel’s soft portmanter, and you’ll have to make shift, Master Perry, if you want any more flannels and things.”
“Oh, there’ll be enough, John,” said Perry. “A fellow don’t want collars and cuffs up in the mountains.”
“But there ain’t enough, sir. The man must ha’ been a hijot as made that portmanter. If it had been six inches longer, it would have held ever so much more.”
“Why, of course it would,” said Cyril contemptuously.
“It ain’t my business,” continued the man; “I’m only a servant. But what ought to ha’ been done was to have had Mr Cyril here with us, and filled a portmanter up with his things. Then they’d ha’ balanced quite easy on the mule’s back.”
“Yes, that’s what ought to have been done,” said Cyril excitedly.
“I wish you’d hold your tongue, John,” cried Perry angrily.
“All right, sir. Cut it out, if you like. We’re in savage lands, and there’s no magistrates to stop it, for all I know. But there, sir, that’s all I can do as I see.”
“How are you getting on?” cried the colonel, joining them. “All packed now?”
“Yes, sir,” said John Manning, drawing himself up stiffly.
“Did you oil the rifles and pistols?”
“Oh yes, sir; I went all over the armoury. Everything’s in perfect order.”
“And the cartridges?”
“Some in every package, sir; so that you can always get a few.”
“That’s right.”
By this time the captain had had an abundance of the most portable and useful provisions packed, simplicity having been especially studied; and on the evening of that fifth day, it was felt that nothing more could be done.
“I can think of nothing else to help you, Campion,” said Captain Norton.
“No, you have done wonders for me. There’s only one thing I wish.”
“What is it?”
“That you were coming too.”
“Colonel Campion!” cried Mrs Norton, as the boys exchanged glances.
“I beg your pardon, madam,” said the colonel. “I will not be so selfish. No, I do not wish that. – Come, boys, make the most of your last hours together. Shall you be up to see us off in the morning, Cyril?”
“Of course,” said the boy with a sigh.
“To be sure,” said the captain; “and we’ll ride a few miles with you – eh, Cil?”
“No, thank you father, I’d rather not,” said the lad dolefully. “I’ll bid them good-bye here. – Coming out, Perry?”
“Yes,” said the latter.
“Don’t be long, my lad,” said the colonel. “I want you to get to bed in good time. You must be up by four.”
“Breakfast will be ready by then,” said Mrs Norton.
“All right, father,” said Perry, and the two lads went out into the soft moonlight, to be accosted directly by John Manning.
“I was looking for you, Master Perry, sir,” he said. “I’ve been a-making of my will, and want you to see me sign it, and witness it.”
“You want to sign your will?” cried Perry, laughing.
“Yes, sir; this here’s going to be my last journey, I’m afraid, for one o’ them mules has marked me down. He means to kick me over the first pressy pass we comes to.”
“Don’t let him,” cried Cyril. “If he’s going to, shove him over instead.”
John Manning stared.
“Thankye, sir, I will. Now, do you know, I never thought o’ that.”
“Come along, Cil,” said Perry, laying his hand upon his companion’s shoulder, and they strolled along to where they could look over the sparkling lights of the town, away across the glittering ocean, with its broad path of silver, and then back up to the huge mountain, whose icy top flashed in the brilliant moonbeams, while every here and there the deep ravines marked the sides with an intense black.
They neither of them spoke, both feeling too sad at heart, but stood there, rapt in thought about the coming morrow, till they were interrupted by the coming of John Manning.
“Colonel says it’s lights out, young gentlemen,” he said respectfully. “There’s allers something wrong in this world. – You ought to ha’ been with us, Master Cyril, sir, in this forlorn-hope job. But, I suppose, we must make the best of it.”
“Yes,” said Cyril bitterly. “I suppose we must.”
A quarter of an hour later the lads were in their bedrooms, listening to the hum of the mosquitoes, and feeling weary, but restless in the heat. Cyril felt as if he could not sleep for thinking of the coming day, but all the same, he went off soundly in spite of his depressing thoughts, and woke up with a start, to find that his father was standing by his bedside.
“Half-past three, my lad,” he cried. “Up with you, and act like a man. Show our visitors that you can be unselfish, and let’s start them happily upon their expedition.”
Cyril tried to say, “Yes, father,” cheerfully, but not a word would come.
“Sulky?” said Captain Norton rather sternly. “I’m sorry that you turn like that. I’ll talk to you this evening, Cyril, my boy.”
The boy drew his breath hard, but he said no word, only began hurriedly to dress, as his father left the room.
Chapter Four
Three Shadows
“Hallo, sir,” cried Captain Norton, as they stood outside in the enclosure where the mules were being loaded, “where’s the a other man?”
The Indian guide looked a little troubled, but spoke out quickly in his half-Indian, half-Spanish jargon.
“He will come. He will meet us soon in the mountains.”
“Is that to be depended upon?” said the colonel harshly; for the absence of one man of his force jarred upon his military precision.
“Yes. I have always found the Antis trustworthy.”
“But we shall be a man short for the mule-driving.”
“No,” said Cyril quickly. “They want no driving. All you have to do is to start the leading mule, and the others will follow right enough.”
“One more thing,” said the colonel, who had had many a weary march across the hot dusty plains of India. “Ought we not to take water?”
“No; the Indians will take you from spring to spring. They know all the streams and falls in the mountains.”
The mules were laden after a good deal of squealing and kicking, and, during the process, John Manning shook his head, and confided to Perry that the big leading mule with the bells had squinted round and shaken one hind-leg at him.
“He means me, Master Perry, sir. I ought to have got that will done.”
“Nonsense! it’s all right,” cried the boy; and soon after, an affectionate farewell was taken of the Nortons, it being decided, at the last moment, that the captain should not accompany them. Then the little mule train started in the darkness up the bridle road leading straight away for the mountains, Cyril sending a cooee-like call after them as they reached the first turn of the zigzag road, and, ten minutes after, they were slowly rising above the town, which still lay in the darkness below.
The guide went first quite out of sight with the leading baggage mule, the others following; then the colonel walked next, beside his mule, with John Manning behind him; lastly, followed Perry with his mule, and the second Indian came last of all.
The road was fairly wide at first, giving room for three mules to have walked abreast, but their habit was to keep in single file, and, in spite of all efforts on Perry’s part, his animal followed the example of others, and walked close to the edge.
As the day broke, John Manning noticed the trouble his young master was taking, and he shook his head.
“’Tain’t no good, sir; I’ve been a-trying as hard as a man can try to get the crittur to walk like a Christian, and he won’t. One of ’em ’ll go over the edge directly, and kill hisself, and serve him right.”
But the mule team plodded on, in their slow patient way, higher and higher, while from time to time the travellers stopped to gaze back away over the town, at the glittering, far-spreading sea, till all at once, after surmounting the last zigzag up the side of the mountain, the leading mule turned a sharp corner and disappeared from Perry’s view, the others following, just as if they had entered a door in the side of the mountain. But, upon leaching the spot, Perry found that they had entered a chasm in the slope – a huge rift, not twenty feet wide, and made quite dim by the distance to where it opened upon the sky; while below, it rapidly ran together, and closed some forty feet beneath the ledge along which the path ran, and with a swift gurgling stream hurrying downward to the shore.
It was Perry’s first sight of a mountain stream whose waters came direct from the melting snow of the heights above, where winter always reigned, but he could see little but an occasional flash as the mules plodded on close to the edge of the path, which, as it rose, grew narrower and more rugged. And, as they still ascended, and the walls on either side of the gorge shut out the light, the boy shuddered, and wondered whether the way would become more dangerous, for, if so, he felt that he dared not mount and ride where a false step on the part of the mule would send him down headlong from the shelf-like track, twenty – forty – why, it must be a hundred feet down to the stream!
“Two, I should say, boy,” said the colonel, for Perry had involuntarily spoken aloud. “Don’t take any notice of the depth; you’ll soon get used to it. Look at the mules, how they keep to the very edge.”
“Yes, it’s horrible, father. The guides ought to train them to keep close to the wall.”
“The mules know best, boy. They are used to carry loads which spread out on either side, and they avoid the wall because it is as dangerous. They might catch their burden against it, and be jerked off.”
“I don’t think I shall ever get used to such paths as this.”
The colonel laughed.
“Not in half a day,” he said. “In a short space of time you will run along them as fearlessly as if you were on an English road.”
“But are there many like this?”
“Pooh, this is nothing, Perry. You are going up into a land of wonders, where everything is so vast and grand that you will have no time to feel nervous.”
“But what are we going for?” asked Perry.
The colonel turned and looked his son full in the eye. Then, smiling:
“Wait,” he said. “You will know in good time.”
Perry felt abashed, and wished that he had not asked, mentally determining not to question his father again, while, as he recalled his conversations with Cyril, he began to feel that his new friend’s ideas must be right. Directly after, he felt sure that they were, for John Manning edged up to him, where the path was a little wider, and said in a whisper:
“Master won’t tell you, then, Master Perry?”
“Won’t tell me what?” said Perry rather shortly.
“What we’re going after. Strikes me as we’re going treasure-hunting, and we shall get into one of them wonderful valleys you read of in the ’Rabian Nights, where the precious stones lies about so thick, you can scoop ’em up.”
“Oh, nonsense!”
“Do you know what the next country is to this?”
“Well, I suppose, if you went far enough over the mountains, you’d come to Brazil.”
“Zackley, sir; and what comes from Brazil?”
“Nuts,” said Perry, laughing. “Hard-shelled, oily nuts, that are horribly nasty to eat.”
“Yes, sir, and di’monds. So don’t you say it ain’t likely that we may come to a valley of precious stones, because it strikes me that’s what it means.”
Onward and upward, along paths partly natural, partly cut in the sides of the gorge where the stream ran, and about mid-day Perry began to realise how high the mountains were, for, upon reaching an opening where he could look up and down, he saw that they had been climbing up and up for about seven hours, and were able to look down at a wonderful panorama of mountain-side and valley; but upon looking upward, the great snowy peak appeared to be as far away as when they started.
Just then the guide spoke to the leading mule, his voice echoing back from across the gorge, for they had reached a slope where the sun shone, and there were patches of grass and green shrub which promised pasture for the animals. They all stopped at once, waited patiently to be relieved of their burdens; and then, when the packs were neatly arranged in a circle, the patient beasts threw themselves down, had a good roll, tossing their legs high in the air, so as to balance themselves for a few moments upon their spines, and then rose again, to begin nibbling at such herbage as they could find.
John Manning busied himself at once and started a fire, while, taking a tin, the second Indian went down the steep slope to the bottom of the gorge, and toiled up again with his load of clear icily-cold water, into which, when it boiled, a small handful of tea was thrown, the tin removed from the fire, and the provisions the colonel’s servant had taken from a basket were served out.
The Indians took what was given to them, and sat down by themselves, while the others partook of their portions with great gusto.
Then, upon looking round, Perry found that the Indians were fast asleep, and asked his father whether he ought not to go and wake them up.
“No, boy; they’ll take their mid-day nap and wake up soon.”
And so it proved, for at the end of a couple of hours, the two men suddenly sprang up, caught the leading mule and led him back to the path, the others following and standing patiently to be laden.
Then onward again till dark, when the guides halted at a spot like the last, the fire was lit, the evening meal prepared, and, well tired out, Perry lay down to pass the first night in the awful solitude to which they had climbed, and gazed up at the brilliant stars seen between large walls of rock. He wondered what Cyril was doing; felt that it would be impossible to sleep cushioned on that hard rock, and fell asleep directly, as a matter of course.
The night was cold up there beneath the glittering stars, but when Perry woke up, warmly rolled in his blanket, there was a sight before him that was as new to him as it was grand.
Right away, apparently at the head of a long narrow valley, and high up toward the heavens, there was a huge peak that might have been the mass of glittering rock from which broke away the diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, rubies, opals, and amethysts, which went to form the valleys of precious stones of which John Manning had spoken. For it was all dark below, but up there one of the gigantic Andean peaks was bathed in the full blaze of the rising sun.
The boy lay gazing up, enraptured, thinking of the delight of climbing up into such a world of glory, and then rolling himself out of his blanket, he leaped up, with the stiffness and uneasiness of the past night quite gone, for the colonel’s voice reached him:
“Now, my lad, jump up; breakfast.”
At the same moment he heard the crackling sound of burning wood, and in a nook of the great wall of rock, where otherwise it would have been quite dark, the glow of a bright fire shone upon the intent, hard face of John Manning, who was baking a bread cake upon a disc of iron, while the two plump, effeminate-looking Indians watched him complacently.
Just below, the mules were cropping the green herbage, and from below them came the rush, roar, and splash of falling water.
“That’s right,” cried the colonel, holding out his hand. “Slept well? Find your bedroom draughty?”
“I don’t know, father,” said Perry. “I was looking at the stars one minute, and the next I was staring at that glorious peak.”
“Glorious indeed, my boy. Hah! There’s nothing like a tramp in the mountains, and a night’s rest in the beautiful, crisp, fresh air. Come along down to the dressing-room.”
“Where?” said Perry, staring.
“Down yonder for a wash,” said the colonel merrily; and, leading the way, they descended the precipitous slope to where the stream ran thundering by, reaching first a place where it was not above a couple of yards across.
“Why, I thought it would be bigger than this,” said Perry, “from the noise it makes.”
“Bigger than you think, my lad,” said the colonel. “There is an enormous amount of water going by here. I daresay that crack is a hundred feet deep. Look at the speed at which it runs.”
“Yes, it seems to run fast.”
“Seems!” cried the colonel. “Here, give me your hand. Don’t be afraid. Stop a moment; roll up your sleeve above your elbow. That’s it. Set your feet fast, and trust to me.”
The boy obeyed, and after making sure of his own footing, the colonel let his son sink down sidewise till he was nearly horizontal, and could plunge his arm right into the stream above the elbow.
It was a strange sensation for the boy to be sinking lower and lower, gazing in the gloom at that rushing, glassy water, which, as it darted along, carried with it another stream – one of air, which blew his hair about and felt icily-cold, but nothing to compare with the water into which he plunged his arm.
The shock was electric. It was as if he received a blow from a mass of ice which numbed him, and gave his limb a sudden snatch and drag to draw it from the socket.
Perry gave a gasp, and pulled his arm out of the torrent.
“Ugh!” he ejaculated. “It’s freezing.”
“Yes; would you like a plunge in?”
“What! there, father? It would sweep me away.”
“Yes, if you were a thousand times as strong, my lad. The force is tremendous. Come along here.”
He led the way upwards to where there was a fall of some few feet, and at the side a shallow pool of the water, wonderfully round, and forming a basin, giving them ample room for their ablutions; after which, fresh and glowing, they climbed up past the mules to where the breakfast was waiting, the hot coffee, bread, and frizzled charqui, or dried beef, being partaken of with an appetite Perry had never felt before.
Then the remains were packed up, the squealing mules loaded, and they started once more; now rising a thousand feet, now descending, but always following the stream deeper and deeper into the mountains, till the grandeur and weird sternness of the gorge’s defiles through which they passed grew monotonous, so that at the end of two days Perry began to long for some change and the open sunshine, away from the tremendous precipices which closed them in, and, in spite of the elasticity of the air, had sometimes a strangely depressing effect.
John Manning felt it, evidently, and sought every opportunity of keeping Perry by his side, so as to have a good grumble about the colonel.
“I don’t know what he could be thinking about, Master Perry, to come to such a place as this. It’s the world’s end, I say. We shan’t have a bit o’ shoe to our foot when we’ve gone a bit farther.”
“Why don’t you ride more, then?” said Perry. “You’ve got a mule on purpose.”
“What!” said John Manning, turning sharply round, “ride that mule? No, thankye, sir. I’ve seen him kick. I’m not going to give him a chance to send me over his head down into one of them cracks. I believe some of them go right through the world. Look at this one now. I can’t see no bottom to it – can you?”
He pointed down into the deep chasm along one of whose sides the rough path led.
“No, not from here,” said Perry, glancing down, and wondering at the absence of giddiness.
“Nor from anywhere else, sir,” grumbled the man. “Why, if any one told me that if you dropped down there, you’d come out somewhere by Simla, I should believe him, for I know they go right through.”
“Nonsense!” said Perry, laughing. “There, father’s beckoning to me.”
It was evening once more, and they were coming again to an opening among the lower mountains, where they would halt for the night. In fact, half an hour later the leading Indian checked his mule in a bowl-shaped hollow, where there was a dense little wood of goodly-sized trees, and a thread-like fall of water came curving down into a mossy basin, while the whole place was brightened by the reflection from the mountains, made dazzling now by the setting sun.
