Kitabı oku: «Real Gold: A Story of Adventure», sayfa 8
Chapter Thirteen
In Treasure Land
They were by this time close up in front of the huts of the bark gatherers, when all at once one of the huge condors came swooping along overhead, looking gigantic up against the sky. And then it was as if a sudden idea had struck the colonel, who raised his piece, took aim, lowered it, and hesitated; for the huge bird was at a great distance, and the people looked at him wonderingly. The next moment his rifle was at his shoulder again, there was the flash and puff of white smoke, the sharp crack, and the rumbling echoing roar in the mountains, as the condor was seen to swerve and then dart straight upward.
“Missed!” muttered John Manning, “but he felt the bullet.”
“Hit!” cried Cyril excitedly, for all at once the bird’s wings closed, and it fell over and over and then dropped like a stone, crashing in among the trees about a hundred yards away.
The Indians had looked on at first incredulously, and several of them exchanged glances as the condor shot upward as if to escape unharmed; but the moment it turned over and began to fall, they set up a loud shout and rushed off to pick up the fallen bird, the whole crowd making for the dense patch of forest, and then walking back steadily, bearing the bird in triumph.
“Rather a risky thing to do, boys,” said the colonel, reloading as he spoke. “If I had missed, I should have done harm to the position we have made in these people’s estimation. But I felt that I could hit the bird, and now they will believe that I may prove a terrible enemy in anger.”
“Do it? Of course he could,” whispered John Manning. “I’ve known him take a rifle from one of our men lots of times, and pick off one of the Beloochees who was doing no end of mischief in our ranks up in the mountains.”
By this time the Indians were back, looking full of excitement, and ready almost to worship the white chief who had come amongst them, with such power of life and death in his hands – powers beside which their bows and arrows and poison-dealing blowpipes seemed to them to be pitiful in the extreme. They laid the body of the great bird, which was stone-dead, at his feet, and then looked at him wonderingly, as if to say, “What next?”
That shot had the effect which the colonel had intended to produce, for to a man the Indians felt the terrible power their white visitor held in his hand, and each felt that he might be the object of his vengeance if any attack was made.
But Colonel Campion felt that the effect was only likely to be temporary, and that he must gain the object for which he had made his perilous journey as quickly as possible, and begin to return before the impression had worn off.
Bidding Cyril then tell their guide that he should camp there for a few days, he sent the two men back for the mules, giving orders that they should take a couple of the Indians who had followed them to help.
His manner carried the day, and the party of four departed.
“I suppose it’s all right, Master Cyril,” whispered John Manning; “but I should have thought we’d ha’ done better by fortifying our own camp, and not running our heads right into the lion’s mouth; but the colonel knows best, and we’ve only got to obey orders.”
Certainly that seemed to be the safest course to pursue – a bold one; so in this spirit, and as if the colonel felt that there was nothing whatever to be feared from the people, the mules and packages were brought up. A snugly-sheltered spot was selected, close to a spring which came gushing from the rock, and a fresh camp made; the party going and coming among the cinchona gatherers as if they were invited visitors; while the Indians themselves looked puzzled, and watched every action from a distance.
That night, beside the fire, surrounded by the dense growth of the life-preserving trees he had sought, the colonel became more communicative.
“You boys have, I daresay, canvassed why I undertook this expedition,” he said, “and, I suppose, took it for granted that I came in search of the gold supposed to be hidden by the Peruvians, to save it from the rapacity of the Spaniards.”
“Yes, sir; that’s what I thought,” said Cyril.
“Or else to find one of the di’mond walleys,” growled John Manning.
“This is not the right direction for them, my man,” said the colonel, smiling. “You have to seek for them between the leaves of books. No, boys; I came to seek something of far greater value to my fellow-creatures than a buried store of yellow metal, which may or may not exist. It is possible that a number of the sacred vessels from some of the old temples may have been hidden by the priests, who, at their death, handed down the secret to their successors; but I think it is far more likely to be a fable. Still, the Indians believe in it, and if they knew that a discovery had been made, they would destroy the lives of the finders, sooner than that the gold should be taken out of the country.”
“Then you have not come to find the gold, sir?” said Cyril; while Perry lay there upon his chest, resting his chin upon his hands, and elbows on the earth, gazing up in his father’s face.
“No, boy; I have come, and I am running some risks, I know, to drag out into the light of day the wondrous medicine which has saved the lives of hundreds of thousands, and made it possible for men to exist in the fever-haunted countries spread around the globe.”
“You mean quinine,” said Cyril. “Father always keeps a bottle in his desk.”
“Yes, I mean quinine, the beautiful crystals obtained from the bark of these trees, boy; the medicine kept so jealously guarded here, the only place where it is produced, high up on the eastern slope of these mountains. I have come to seek it, and have found it far more easily than I expected: we are sitting and lying here right in the middle of one of the cinchona groves.”
“But we can’t take away much, father, even if they will let us,” said Perry.
“Wrong, boy. I hope that we shall be able to bear away, unseen, enough to stock the world, and to make the drug, which is a blessing to humanity, plentiful, instead of civilised Europe having to depend upon the supply from here – from this carefully-guarded place.”
“You mean to take away some young trees,” said Cyril excitedly.
“I should like to do so, but that is a doubtful way, my boy. The young trees would be awkward to carry, and transplanting trees often means killing them. We must try something better than that, though. I shall see what I can do in making one bundle, with the roots carefully bound up in damp moss.”
“Yes, we might do that,” assented Cyril, “but we didn’t bring a spade.”
“Let us find some tiny trees, and we’ll do without a spade,” said the colonel quietly. “But I am in this position, boys. I know very little about the trees we see around us. That they are the right ones there can be no doubt, for the Indians are camped here, cutting them down, and peeling off and drying the bark. There are several kinds which produce inferior kinds of quinine; but these laurel-like evergreen trees produce the true, the best Peruvian bark; and it is to take away the means of propagating these trees in suitable hot mountainous colonies of our own, that we are here. Now, how is it to be done?”
“Indians won’t let it be done, sir,” said Manning. “Here, I know lots o’ places up Simla way where it would grow fine. Up there, north o’ Calcutta, sir.”
“Yes; there are spots there where it might be grown, or in the mountains of Ceylon,” said the colonel; “but we have to get it there.”
“I know,” said Cyril. “Let’s get heaps of seed. Why, we might till our pockets that way.”
“Yes; that is my great hope, boys; so, whenever you see seed-pods or berries nearly ripe, secure them. But we are surrounded by difficulties. We may be here at the wrong time of year, though I calculated that as well as I could; and now that we are here, I have been terribly disappointed, for so far, instead of seeing seed, I have noted nothing but the blossoms. It is as if we are too early, though I hope these are only a second crop of flowers, and that we may find seed after all.”
“But these sweet-smelling flowers, something like small lilac, are not the blossoms of the trees, are they?” said Perry.
“Yes, those are they,” said the colonel. “Now my secret is out, and you know what we have to do. – Well, Manning, what is it?”
“My old father had a garden, sir, and he used to grow little shrubs by cutting up roots in little bits, which were often dry as a bone when he put them in, but they used to grow.”
“Yes,” said the colonel. “Quite right; and now we are here, in spite of all opposition, we must take away with us seeds, cuttings of twigs, and roots, and if possible, and we can find them, a number of the tiny seedlings which spring up beneath the old trees from the scattered seed. There, that is our work, and all must help. – Do you hear, Manning?”
“Oh yes, sir, I hear, and if you show me exactly what you want, I’ll do my best; but, begging your pardon, sir, ain’t it taking a deal o’ trouble for very small gains?”
“No, my man, the reward will be incalculable.”
“All right, sir, you know best. I’ll do what you tell me, and when we’ve got what we want, I’ll fight for it. That’s more in my way. But, begging your pardon once more, wouldn’t it be better for you to go to the head-man, and say, through Master Cyril here: ‘Look here, young fellow, we’ve come a long journey to get some seed and young plants of this stuff; can’t you make a sort of trade of it, and sell us a few pen’orth civilly.’”
The colonel laughed.
“No. They will not let us take a seed out of the country if they can prevent it. I will tell you all the worst at once. They will make a bold effort to master the dread with which I have succeeded in inspiring them, and fight desperately to stop us when we get our little store.”
“Then, begging your pardon again, colonel, wouldn’t it ha’ been better to have come with a couple of companies of foot, and marched up with fixed bayonets, and told him that you didn’t mean to stand any nonsense, but were going to take as much seed as you liked?”
“Invited the rulers of the country to send a little army after us?”
“Yes, of course, sir; but they’ve got no soldiers out here as could face British Grenadiers.”
The colonel was ready to listen to every opinion that night, and he replied quietly:
“I thought it all out before I started, and this was the only way – to come up into the mountains as simple travellers, reach the hot slopes and valley regions where the cinchona grows, and then trust to our good fortune to get a good supply of the seed. But, even now, from our start from San Geronimo we have been watched. You have noticed it too, boys. Even the guide we took has arrayed himself against us from the first, and, while seeming to obey my orders, has taken care to communicate with every one we passed that he was suspicious of my motives. Every mile we have come through the mountain-range has been noted, and will be noted, till we get back.”
“Why not go back, then, some other way, sir?”
“Because we cannot cross the mountains where we please. The road we followed is one which, no doubt, dates from the days when the Incas ruled, and there are others here and there at intervals, but they will be of no use to us. Somehow or other, we must go back by the way we came, and I hope to take at least one mule-load with us to get safely to England. There, that is enough for to-night. Now for a good rest and we shall see what to-morrow brings forth. Cyril and Perry, you will be on sentry till as near midnight as you can guess, and then rouse me. I’m going now to take a look round at the mules, and then I shall lie down.”
He rose and walked away to where the mules were cropping the grass, which grew abundantly in the open places, and as soon as he was out of hearing, John Manning began to growl.
“All right, young gentlemen,” he said, “I’m ready for anything; but, of all the wild scarum-harum games I was ever in, this is about the wildest. Come up here to steal stuff! for that’s what it is, and you can’t call it anything else. I’ve know’d people steal every mortal thing nearly, from a horse down to a pocket-knife. I’ve been where the niggers tickled you when you was asleep and made you roll over, so that they could steal the blanket you lay upon. I’ve seen the crows in Indy steal the food out of the dogs’ mouths; but this beats everything.”
“Why?” said Perry shortly.
“Why, sir? Because physic’s a thing as everybody’s willing enough to give to someone else; I didn’t think it was a thing as anybody would ever dream o’ stealing. As you may say, it’s a thing as couldn’t be stole.”
“Father knows what he is about,” said Perry shortly.
“Course he does, sir. Nobody denies that. We’ve got to begin taking physic with a vengeance. All right: I’m ready. And I was thinking all the time as we should bring back those four-legged jackasses loaded with gold and precious stones. All right, gentlemen. As I said before, I’m ready; and it’s a good beginning for me, for I shall get a long night’s rest; so here goes.”
He rolled himself in his blanket, then lay down with his feet near the fire, and began to breathe the heavy breath of a sleeper the next minute.
“Well, Cil,” said Perry, “what do you think of it?”
“Don’t know,” said Cyril. “Yes, I do. They’re wonderfully watchful over the bark, and as soon as they know what we are after, they’ll stop us.”
“Then we must not let them see what we are after, my lad,” said the colonel, who had returned unseen. “We must collect plants and flowers of all kinds, and load a couple of the mules. That will help to disarm suspicion. – Pieces loaded?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s right. We must keep military watch now regularly; but there will be nothing to fear to-night.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Night-Watch
Those were very encouraging words, and they seemed to tingle in the boys’ ears as the colonel followed his servant’s example, rolled a blanket about his shoulders, and lay down with his head resting on one of the mules’ loads; but the impression soon died away, leaving the lads close together, with their guns resting on the grass, listening in the deep silence of the starlit night, and for some time without speaking a word.
“Come a little farther away,” whispered Perry at last. “I want to talk.”
They moved a few yards away from the sleepers, and stopped beneath a great spreading tree at about equal distance from the colonel and the fire, which glowed faintly, but gave sufficient light for them to see Diego and the other Indian squatted down, making tents of their long garments, and with their chins bent down upon their breasts; but whether asleep, or waking and watchful, it was impossible to say.
“Well?” said Perry at last, after they had been straining their ears to catch different sounds, now the trickling murmur of falling water, now some strange cry from far away in the woods, or the whisper of a breeze which came down from the mountains to pass away among the trees.
“Well?” said Cyril.
“Isn’t it awfully quiet?”
“Yes.”
“Look over there, just to the left of the fire. Isn’t that some one watching us?”
“Tree trunk,” said Cyril laconically.
There was a pause, and then Perry whispered again.
“I say, I don’t want to be cowardly, but there’s some one coming slowly through the trees. I caught a glimpse of his back. He’s stooping down – there, between those two big trunks, where it’s open. Don’t you see – stooping?”
“Yes, I see, and nibbling the grass as he comes. One of the mules.”
Perry shaded his eyes – needlessly, for there was no glare to shut out – and he soon convinced himself that his companion was right.
But he felt annoyed, and said testily:
“I wish you wouldn’t be so ready to contradict everything I say.”
Cyril laughed softly.
“Why, you didn’t want it to be an enemy, did you?”
Perry made no reply, and they stood for some time together in silence, listening to the crop, crop sound made by the mules, and the whispering sighs of the wind, which came down sharp and chill from the mountains. At last Cyril spoke again.
“Let’s walk round the camp.”
“You can’t for the trees.”
“Oh yes, we can. It’s cold standing here. We’ll work in and out of the trees, and make a regular path round. It will be better than standing still.”
“Very well,” said Perry shortly. “Go on first.”
Cyril shouldered his piece and stepped off cautiously for a couple of dozen yards, and then struck off to the left, meaning to make the fire act as a centre round which they could walk, keeping guard and themselves warm; but before he had gone many steps he stopped short.
“Look here,” he whispered, “you are a soldier’s son, and ought to teach me what to do in keeping guard.”
“There’s nothing to teach,” said Perry. “All you’ve got to do is to keep a sharp lookout.”
“Yes, there is. If we keep together like this, we leave a lot of the camp exposed. What we ought to do is for one to go one way, and one the other; then meet, cross, and go on again. It would be far better.”
“But then we should be alone so long. We had better keep together.”
“Very well,” said Cyril shortly; but he owned to himself that he felt better satisfied, for it was lonely, depressing work there in the darkness.
Cyril stepped forward again, going slowly and carefully through the thick growth, making as little noise as possible, and trying to keep as nearly as possible to the same distance from the fire – no easy task, by the way – but he had not gone far before he stopped short and started aside, bringing his gun down to the present. For, all at once, from out of the darkness, some one seemed to strike at him, the blow cutting through the twigs and leaves by which he was surrounded with a loud whistling noise, while the stroke was so near, that he felt the air move close to his face.
“Fire – fire!” whispered Perry excitedly.
“What at? I can’t see any one,” replied Cyril, as he stood with his finger on the trigger.
He felt his heart beat with a heavy throb, and his hands grew moist, as he tried hard to pierce the darkness, and fix his eyes upon the enemy who had made so cowardly a blow at him; but the thick branches shut out every ray of light, and the silence was now painful in the extreme. The position was the more startling from the fact that neither could tell from which side the next blow would come.
But still that blow did not fall, and it seemed to Cyril, as he stood there holding his breath, that the Indian who had struck at him so treacherously was waiting until he moved, so as to make sure before striking again. At last the painful tension came to an end, for suddenly, from just in front, there was a heavy sigh, and crop, crop, crop, followed by a burst of laughter from the boy.
“Oh, I say, Perry,” he cried, “what a game! Fancy being scared like that by a mule.”
“Then it was one of the mules?”
“Of course; we frightened the poor thing, and it kicked out at us. Come along.”
He bore off a little to one side, and they passed the browsing animal, and, though describing rather an irregular circle, made their way round the fire, getting back pretty exactly to the place from which they started.
This was repeated several times, and then, for a change, Cyril proposed that they should strike off a little, straight away from the camp.
Perry was willing, and they put their plan in operation, for no special reason other than that of seeing the ground was clear in different directions, and to relieve the monotony of the watch.
“You lead now,” said Cyril, in a low voice, so as not to disturb the others, who, in thorough confidence that a good watch would be kept, and that there was no fear of any danger, were sound asleep.
Perry led on, finding the way more open a short distance from the camp, but he had not led thirty yards when he stopped short.
“Hallo! another mule?” said Cyril.
“Indian!” said Perry huskily; and, as Cyril pressed forward to his companion’s side, there, hard to define, but plain at last, stood one of the Indians, who raised his arm and pointed back, uttering two or three words in a guttural tone.
“What does he say?”
“That we must go back to the fire. Perhaps we had better,” said Cyril. “I don’t like his being there, though. Look here,” he said quickly; “let’s make haste back, and go right out the other way.”
“What for?” said Perry, following his companion.
“I’ll tell you directly.”
Five minutes later they were checked just on the other side by another Indian who started up right in their path.
“Come and warn my father,” said Perry excitedly. “They’re going to attack us.”
“No; I think not,” replied Cyril decisively. “They’re sentries. Come and try another way.”
He led off again, after they had returned to the fire, finding that they were not followed, and that all was still; and again they were stopped by an Indian starting up and ordering them back.
“That’s it,” said Cyril quietly; “they’ve surrounded us with sentries.”
“To attack us?”
“No; to see that we don’t escape; and while we were walking round and round, they were within a few yards of us, listening to all our movements.”
“But they couldn’t have been there then, or they would have started up as they did just now.”
“No; we weren’t doing anything they minded; but as soon as we tried to go straight away, they stopped us. Let’s try once more.”
He led off quickly again, with the same result; and then Perry turned back to where his father lay asleep.
“What are you going to do?” whispered Cyril.
“Wake up my father, of course. We are attacked.”
“Don’t do that,” said Cyril decisively. “We are not attacked, or they would have seized us at once. I’m sure they are only guarding us, to make sure that we don’t try to escape. It’s of no use to wake him till the proper time.”
Perry hesitated.
“But we are in danger.”
“No; I don’t think we are. They are watching us, but they don’t mean to attack us, or they would do so. You’ll see now. We’ve come among them, and they’ll keep us under their eye, and perhaps will not let us go again. Look here: let’s go and speak to Diego.”
Perry was easily led, and yielding to his companion’s decisive manner, he followed to the fire and then round to the other side, where the Indian guide and his companion were squatted down with their chins resting upon their chests.
They made no sign as the boys came silently up, and appeared to be fast asleep; but Cyril knew better, for he saw in the dim glow shed by the fire, a slight tightening of the man’s hand upon his bow.
“They’re asleep,” whispered Perry. “Better come to my father.”
“Asleep with one eye open, and on the watch,” said Cyril quietly, and he bent down and whispered a few words.
They were electric in their effect, for both men raised their heads, and their eyes glittered in the faint light from the fire.
“Didn’t take much waking,” said Cyril, with a little laugh. Then turning to Diego, he said, in the man’s half-Spanish jargon:
“Why are the Indians on the watch all round here?”
The man looked at the speaker intently.
“Are the Indians watching all round?” he said quietly.
“You know they are. Why is it? To keep us from going away?”
The man looked at him intently, and then nodded his head.
“And suppose we try to go away, what then? Would they fight?”
“Yes,” said the guide gravely.
“And try to kill us?”
“Yes, they would kill you.”
“Try to, you mean.”
“No,” said the man gravely. “Kill you. You are few, they are many.”
“Stop a moment,” said Cyril, as the man turned his head aside wearily. “Will they try to kill us if we stay?”
“No.”
Cyril tried to get more information from the man, but he shook his head, and made a pretence of being so lazy and unable to comprehend the boy’s words, that Cyril gave up in disgust, and turned impatiently away.
“It’s of no good to-night,” he said. “We heard all that he is likely to know. Let’s walk round again.”
“But they may strike at us in the dark.”
“No, they will not do that. I’m not afraid. Let’s go through with our watching, till we think it’s midnight, and then wake up the colonel.”
“We’d better call him now.”
“No; if we did, it would only be giving a false alarm, when we know that there is no danger. Come along.”
The weaker mind yielded to the stronger, and the march round was begun again, one which required no little courage, knowing, as the boys did, that there must be quite a dozen Indians within striking distance, and every rustle they heard, made probably by one of the grazing mules, might be caused by an enemy creeping forward to strike a blow.
At last, when they felt that it must be getting toward midnight, Cyril proposed that they should go back close to where the colonel lay asleep, and they had not been standing near him ten minutes, hesitating to call him for fear he should be awakened too soon, when he suddenly made a hasty movement, opened his eyes, looked round, and sprang to his feet.
“Midnight, boys,” he said, “is it not?”
“We don’t know, father, and did not like to call you too soon.”
“Yes, it must be about midnight,” he said decisively, “or I should not have woke up. Well, is all right?”
“No, father,” whispered Perry.
“Oh yes; there’s nothing to mind,” said Cyril hastily. “We only found that there are a lot of Indians round about the camp.”
“You saw them?”
“Yes, sir. So soon as we moved a little way, a man rose up and stopped us.”
“On one side?” said the colonel.
“All round, sir.”
“On guard, then, in case we wished to escape. We’re prisoners, my lad, for the present. However, they will not venture to hurt us, unless we give them good reason, by loading up the mules to take away something they consider ought to be kept here, and that we shall not be ready to do for some days to come.”
“That’s what I wanted Perry to feel sir,” said Cyril, “but he would have it that they were going to attack us to-night.”
“There is no fear of that, my boy,” said the colonel firmly. “There, lie down, and sleep till breakfast-time; there is nothing to fear.”
“But are you going to watch alone, sir?”
“Yes, quite alone, my lad,” said the colonel, smiling. “There, take my place; I’m rested now, and you have nothing to mind. Don’t meet perils half-way; its bad enough when they come. Till they do, it is our duty to be patient and watch. Afterwards we must fight – if it is necessary. Now – to bed.”
The boys obeyed, and the colonel commenced his solitary watch.
