Kitabı oku: «Real Gold: A Story of Adventure», sayfa 7

Chapter Eleven
The Peril Thickens

There must have been something wonderfully lulling in the roar of that fall, and a feeling of great confidence in the fact that the colonel would keep watch over them half the night, and John Manning, stern, tried, old soldier that he was, for the second half; for, though the boys lay there, fully convinced that they would not be able to sleep, and had visions of knife-armed Indians creeping toward them through the darkness, they soon dropped off, and rested uninterruptedly for eight hours, when they sprang up at a touch from John Manning.

“If you gentlemen will relieve guard,” he said quietly, “I’ll see about breakfast.”

Soon after, as if nothing whatever had happened, they all sat down to a hearty meal, and that over, once more started upon their journey through the mountains; the Indians seeming more willing, and at the suggestion that the mules should rest for a day or two in that luxuriant pasturage, eagerly assuring the colonel, through Cyril, that for days to come they would find plenty, and that the road would be easier.

On hearing this, the colonel decided to go on, and soon found that the guide’s words were correct; for, during the next six days, they traversed smiling valleys, with grass and trees in abundance. Snowcapped hills rose high above them; but where they journeyed, they were in a beautiful temperate climate, with rich soil and abundance of flowers.

This part of their journey was delightful; for the way along the passes was easy, and the colonel, who was a dead shot, several times over added to their larder with his gun.

But they went on in no false security; for several times over they passed Indians, and were made fully aware of the fact that every mile they took was carefully watched, and that the leader of the expedition inspected no mountain shelf, cave, or patch of dwarf forest, without his acts being duly noted, though in no observant way.

Diego proved to be a perfect guide; and, making no objections now, he led them steadily on in a way which would have disarmed suspicion with some people; but the colonel was quietly on the alert, and went on examining plant, flower, and tree, at one time with all the patient care of a botanist; and at another time, when they were climbing some rugged shelf in a ravine, letting no mineral escape his observation.

And all the while the little party, though they made no sign, were perfectly well aware that they were being watched.

“Strikes me that when we’ve got it, they won’t let us take a simple lump of gold out of the place, Master Cyril.”

“No,” said the boy drily.

“But I mean some of the precious stones, Master Perry. I shall have them.”

“How?”

“Swaller ’em, sir, if I can manage it without being seen. Why, do you know I went down by that bit o’ stream, last night, to bathe my feet, and before I got there, I stopped short and sneezed, and before I had time to say, ‘Bless me!’ there was an Indian’s head popped up over a bush, and another from behind a stone, to see what was the matter.”

“Yes; I’ve noticed something of the kind,” said Cyril thoughtfully. “But I shouldn’t advise you to swallow any stones you find.”

“Why, sir?”

“Because they won’t agree with you.”

“They agree with chickens,” said Manning, grinning, “and make their hard food digest, so I don’t see why they shouldn’t agree with me, sir. But, I say, Master Perry, let it out now; I’m sure you’d feel a deal happier if you told us what the colonel’s hunting for.”

“I shall not tell you, because I don’t know. My father knows best about what he’s doing, I daresay. We thought, the other day, that we were in great danger; but you saw how quietly he took it, and how it all came to nothing.”

“Perhaps the time has not come yet,” said Cyril rather seriously; “don’t let’s talk too soon.”

No more was said then; but a few days later, the others thought of how prophetic the boy’s words had proved.

But it was not until another fortnight had passed, and a day had arrived when, after journeying through a deep defile of a similar character to that which they had threaded upon the day when they met the llama caravan, they reached a point upon the slope of a huge mountain, from which they looked down over a glorious picture of hill and dale, verdant forest and wide-reaching plain, with, in two places, thin serpentine threads of water glistening in the sun.

“At last,” said the colonel gravely. “It has been a long journey, boys, but we have reached the point I sought.”

Cyril looked at him inquiringly; and Perry, who felt that he was expected to speak, said: “Yes; it’s very grand. How different to being in amongst the mountains!”

“Yes, boy; we can breathe out here. Did you notice the water in the last two streams we passed?”

“Yes; very beautiful with the overhanging trees, father.”

“Yes; but the way they ran?”

“No,” said Perry.

“Look yonder, then,” said the colonel, pointing to a little rivulet which leaped out from between two masses of rock. “Where is that going?”

“Into another stream, I suppose,” said Perry, “and that will run into another, and so on, till they all together form a big river, and run into the ocean.”

“Yes; but what ocean, my boy? Don’t you see that we have crossed the watershed? Till the last day or two, all the streams we passed have been going constantly west into the Pacific. Now we have passed through the mountains, and found the eastern slope, where all run down to make the vast rivers which flow into the Atlantic.”

“I should not have known,” said Perry.

“Nor I,” said Cyril; “but its much fresher out here.”

“Yes, we have left the dry region behind, to get into the land of rains and many waters. We saw no such forests as those which are spread before us even at this height.”

“Is this high, sir?” asked Cyril.

“Yes, my lad, about nine thousand feet.”

“And shall we go back the same way?” asked Perry.

“Possibly, my lad, but more probably not. It depends upon the way the Indians treat us.”

“But we can never find our way back any other way,” cried Cyril. “Don’t think about it. We should be lost up here in these mountains.”

“No, because we have a guide with us, my boy, and if I can help it, he will not leave us till he has seen us safely back.”

Cyril said nothing, but the thought occurred to him:

“Suppose we wake some fine morning, and the guides are gone.”

They camped that night on the slope of the hill, and till it was growing dark, the colonel busied himself with his glass, carefully, as it seemed to the boys, inspecting the forest in every direction, and ending by closing the telescope with a satisfied smile, which was not lost upon Cyril.

“He has found it,” he said to Perry, as soon as they were alone.

“Found what?”

“What he has come after.”

Perry looked at him wonderingly.

“You have found out?” he said.

“No, I wish I had; but didn’t you see how pleased he seemed when he came back to supper, and said that we should camp here for a few days?”

“Yes, I noticed that.”

“Well, doesn’t it mean that we have got to the spot at last that he was in search of?”

Perry shook his head.

“Well, you see if we don’t find out something to-morrow.”

Perry had almost forgotten his companion’s words at breakfast-time the next morning, but they came to his memory as soon as they had done, for the colonel said:

“Now, boys, we’ll make a little expedition along the edge of the forest here this morning. Cyril, tell the men to mind the mules don’t stray too far, and keep up the fire.”

John Manning looked sharply at the colonel, as much as to say: “Then you mean me to come also, sir?”

“Yes, I want you to carry spare ammunition and the game-bag. I hope we shall have some sport along here,” said the colonel, who had caught the old soldier’s inquiring gaze.

Half an hour later, they were tramping along the mountain-slope, through open woods that were quite park-like, and gave them glimpses of the far-spreading region below, all vested in a delicate bluish mist, while where they journeyed all was brilliant sunshine. There was a delicious feeling of spring in the air, for though the sun was hot, the air was crisp and cool, making the task of walking easy, and giving the travellers a feeling of elasticity, wanting when passing through the gloomy gorges of the huge mountain-chain.

The colonel led off as if he were quite accustomed to the place, though there was no sign of a track, and before they had gone far, Perry whispered a hope that they would not lose their way.

“No fear,” said Cyril. “We are keeping the mountains on our left, and we must keep them on our right as we go back. We have only to keep along till we strike the stream, and follow it up or down till we reach our fire. I daresay we shall see it long before we are near, by the smoke.”

They had gone quite a couple of miles without seeing any trace of game, the woods being wonderfully silent. The colonel was on in front, and the two boys about twenty yards behind, each bearing a gun, when Perry suddenly paused.

“Where’s John Manning?” he said. “I thought he was close up.”

They waited, and then whistled several times, but there was no response, and then Cyril ran back to where the land was more open, but still there was no sign; and he was about to run forward again, and signal to the colonel to stop, when the missing man suddenly appeared with his piece at the trail, running hard, but keeping himself bent down, to avoid being seen.

“What’s the matter?” said Cyril, as the old soldier came up. “Seen a deer?”

“No, sir; I only had a suspicion.”

“What of?”

“Struck me that Master Diego would come after us to see which way we went.”

“Well?”

“Yes, I hung back to watch, and he’s half a mile behind, tracking us by our footmarks, with his head down, or else he’d have seen me.”

“Come on, and tell the colonel.”

They hurried forward, and joined Perry, waiting for them anxiously.

“At last,” he said excitedly. “Did you see?”

“See what?”

“Those Indians.”

“No. Where?” said Cyril.

“On both sides, among the trees. They are watching us. What ought we to do?”

“Rearguard closes up on the main body,” said John Manning quickly. “Single file, and at the double. Now, sir, you head the advance. March.”

Cyril sprang forward to overtake the colonel, looking down as he trotted forward in search of trampled-down grass and broken twigs; but from the first he saw nothing, neither could he hear a sound, and after some minutes’ progress, he pulled up short, and breathing hard.

“We had better spread out now,” he said, “or we shall overlook him.”

“Didn’t you see which way he went?” said John Manning.

“Out this way somewhere,” said Perry. “He can’t be far away.”

“Enemy closing in,” said the old soldier in a low voice. “Forward, my lads. We must find him now.”

Those last words sent a chill through Cyril, who sprang forward again, and then nearly uttered a shout; for, about fifty yards in front, he caught sight of the colonel standing half hidden by the thick growth at the edge of a clearing, where some dozen or so of men were busy apparently cutting wood. Beyond them were two rough huts thatched with boughs, and piled up in little stacks were fagots of the wood which the men had cut down.

They were so busy over their task, that they had not noticed the presence of the colonel, neither did they hear the approaching footsteps as they worked on. But the colonel did, and turned and hurried back to meet the boys, holding up his hand to command silence. His eyes were flashing with satisfaction as they came up, and he had a branch of one of the trees about them in his hand.

“We thought we had lost you,” said Perry excitedly. “What’s that?”

“The magic tree I have come all these thousands of miles to seek, boy, and now – ”

“Will you cast your eye this way, sir?” said John Manning, in a hoarse low voice of warning. “Indians all around. Do it mean mischief, or are they only friends?”

He gave his head a backward wag as he spoke, and as Cyril looked excitedly in the indicated direction, he saw that which made him thrust his hand into his pouch to count the cartridges; for if the coming Indians meant offence, they as travellers were in mortal peril of losing their lives.

Chapter Twelve
At Bay

To have attempted to escape, the colonel said, would be madness, for it would have suggested fear of the approaching Indians, and made them think at once that the visit to their secluded haunts meant no good to them; so throwing his piece into the hollow of his left arm, and bidding the others do as he did, Colonel Campion took a few steps forward to meet the Indians, and held out his hand.

This had the effect of making them halt a few yards from them, and keeping their faces fixed upon the English party, they talked rapidly among themselves.

At that moment Cyril caught sight of Diego hanging back among the men in the rear.

“There’s our guide, sir,” he said hurriedly. “Shall I call him?”

“He there?” said the colonel sharply. “Yes, call him. No: go through them, and fetch him, boy.”

Cyril hesitated for a moment or two, and his heart beat high; but the order had been given in true military style, and it had its influence. The boy felt that he would be backed up by the colonel in all he did, and throwing his gun over his right shoulder, he stepped boldly forward, finding that the white was master even here; for the Indians, taken by surprise at his firmness, parted at once to let him pass, and then Cyril’s pulses beat a little more rapidly, for the men closed up again, shutting him off from his friends.

The boy felt this, but he knew that he must not show fear, and without a moment’s hesitation, he walked on up to where Diego stood half hidden behind a couple of the Indians, and clapping his hand upon the man’s shoulder, “Come,” he said, “the colonel wants you.”

The guide shrank at Cyril’s touch, and looked at his fellows for support, but no one stirred, and uttering a low sigh, the man allowed himself to be marched away to where the colonel stood, the Indians giving way on either side, and then closing up again in silence, and without the slightest show of menace.

For to them it was as if a superior being had calmly passed among them and fetched one, each man feeling relieved that he was not the one selected, and that, had he been, he would have felt compelled to go.

“Well done, British boy,” said the colonel to Cyril, as he stopped before him with the guide, who looked of a curious dusky colour now; his eyes showing the whites around the iris, and his lips seeming parched as he moistened them hastily with his tongue from time to time.

“Now then,” continued the colonel sharply, as if he were addressing a delegate from a mutinous company of his old regiment, “why have you brought all these men after me, sir? – Interpret quickly, Cyril.”

This was done, and the man’s voice trembled as he answered.

“He says they made him come, sir,” said Cyril.

“Which is a lie,” cried John Manning; “for he has been dodging us all the time.”

“Silence there. ’Tention!” cried the colonel harshly, and the old soldier drew himself up smartly, lowered and then shouldered arms, just as if he had been on parade.

It was a trifle, but it had its effect upon the Indians, giving them a great idea of the importance of the colonel, who stood there, erect and stern, issuing his orders; and in their eyes he was a great white chief, if not a king.

“Now,” he said sharply, “let that boy ask him what these people want.”

Cyril interpreted and obtained his answer, the peril of their position sharpening the boy’s faculties, and making him snatch at words of which he was in doubt.

“They have come,” said Cyril, “to see why you are here. They say you have no right to come amongst the kina gatherers, and that you must go back to the coast at once.”

“Indeed!” said the colonel haughtily. “We shall see about that. Tell them, boy, that I am the English chief of a great white queen; that I have come into this country to examine it and its products, and that I will shoot dead with this piece the first man who dares to interfere with me and mine.”

“Hear, hear!” growled John Manning.

“Silence in the ranks,” cried the colonel sharply; while, gaining confidence, Cyril’s voice partook somewhat of his leader’s imperious command, as he repeated the words as loudly as he could, so that all might hear.

There was a low fierce murmur from the little crowd, which was now augmented by the bark peelers, who closed the English party up from the rear.

“What do they say?” cried the colonel, taking a step forward, and cocking his piece at the same moment.

“That they will make us prisoners, sir,” said Cyril.

“Who dared say that?” roared the colonel, and taking another step forward, he looked fiercely round, with the result that to a man the Indians bent their heads before him, and not one dared look him in the face.

“Hah!” he ejaculated, “that is better. Now tell them I wish to see the kina gathered and prepared.”

Cyril gave the interpretation of his words, and Diego and an old Indian came humbly forward and laid down their bows and arrows at his feet.

The colonel took a step and planted his foot upon the weapons. Then drawing back, he pointed down.

“Pick them up!” he said sternly in English, and repeated the words in Spanish, when a low murmur of satisfaction arose, and the men stooped, lifted their weapons, and then making deprecating signs, they led the way into the clearing where the cinchona trees had been cut down, and the people had been busy collecting and drying the bark.

The colonel went on first, and Cyril and John Manning next, followed by Perry and Diego.

“It does one good, Master Cyril,” whispered John Manning, “it does one good again, my lad. That’s the sort of man the colonel is. Fit for a king, every inch of him. There ain’t many men as would have faced a body of savage Indians with their bows and arrows like that. He’s the right sort of stuff, ain’t he? and yet they let him leave the army and go on half-pay.”

“Yes, but do you think there will be any treachery?” replied Cyril.

“No, sir, I don’t, so long as we show ’em we mean to keep the upper hand of ’em. They daren’t. They know the colonel meant what he said, and felt that every word he said was true, and that a big chief had come among ’em.”

“Yes, I could see that,” said Cyril.

“My word, he was like a lion among a lot o’ them big, long-necked sheep, sir; and you did your part of it splendidly.”

“I did?” said Cyril, looking at the man in wonder.

“Yes, you, sir. I only wish our Master Perry would speak up as bold.”

“Why, John Manning,” said Cyril, half laughing, “if you only knew how I felt.”

“I do, sir.”

“Not you, or you would not talk like that.”

“I tell you I do, sir. You felt just as I did first time I went into action, and heard the bullets go whizzing by like bees in the air, and saw some of them sting the poor fellows, who kept on dropping here and there, many of ’em never to get up again. I thought I was in a terrible fright, and that I was such a miserable coward I ought to be drummed out of the regiment; but it couldn’t have been fright, only not being used to it; and I couldn’t have been a coward, because I was in the front rank all the time, close alongside of your father; and when we’d charged and driven the enemy flying, the colonel clapped me on the shoulder and said he’d never seen a braver bit of work in his life, and of course he ought to know.”

“I did feel horribly frightened, though,” said Cyril.

“Thought you did, sir, that was all. You couldn’t have done it better.”

“I don’t know,” said the boy, smiling. “Suppose the Indians had found me out?”

“Found you out, sir? Bah! If it comes to the worst, they’ll find out you can fight as well as talk. Now, just look here, sir; didn’t you ever have a set to at school, when you were at home in England?”

“Yes, two or three.”

“And didn’t you feel shimmery-whimmery before you began?”

“Yes.”

“And as soon as you were hurt, forgot all that, and went in and whipped.”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Of course you did, sir. That’s human nature, that is. But, I say, Mr Cyril, sir, what does it all mean? Why has the colonel come out here? He can’t have come just to see people cut down a few trees and peel off the bark.”

“I begin to think he has.”

“But I could have taken him down in Surrey, sir, and showed him into woods where they were doing all that to the oak trees, without coming out here, or running any risks of getting an arrow sent through you, just as if you was a chicken got ready to roast.”

“I don’t quite understand it yet,” said Cyril; “but don’t talk any more now. Look, look! what is he going to do?”