Kitabı oku: «Real Gold: A Story of Adventure», sayfa 9
Chapter Fifteen
Collecting the Gold
“Ever see ’em ketch eels at home, Master Cyril?” said John Manning one morning.
“We used to set night lines in the lake at school,” said Cyril. “We threw the bait out ever so far, and tied the other end to a brick sunk in the water.”
“Oh yes: but I don’t mean that way, where every twopenny eel spoils four pen’orth o’ good line and hooks. I mean with an eel-trap, one of those made of osiers, so that it’s very easy to get in, but very hard to get out.”
“Yes; I saw some of those once,” cried Perry, “up by a weir. But why? There are no eels here.”
John Manning chuckled, and shook all over, as if he enjoyed what he was saying.
“Not many, sir, but quite enough. We’re the eels, and we’ve wriggled ourselves right into a trap, and there’s no getting out again.”
“It doesn’t seem as if there were,” said Cyril thoughtfully; “but we’re getting what the colonel wanted, and I don’t think the Indians have noticed it yet.”
“’Tain’t for want of looking, sir,” said the old soldier. “I go for a bit of a walk in one direction, and begin picking something, and feel a tickling about the back. ‘Some one’s eyes on me,’ I says to myself, and I go a bit farther, and feel the same tickling in front. Then one side, then t’other, and it’s always eyes watching.”
“Yes,” said Perry. “We’ve been a week here, and I get so sick of it: I never move without there being some one after me; and the worst of it is, you don’t see him coming, but find him watching you from behind a rock, or out of a bush.”
“Yes,” said Cyril, “it isn’t nice. They crawl about like snakes, and almost as quietly.”
“Don’t matter,” said John Manning, with another chuckle. “We can be as cunning as they. How have you young gents got on since the colonel give his orders?”
“Pretty well,” said Cyril. “Of course it’s of no use to try and get roots or cuttings, they look too sharp after us; but I’ve found some seed, and he has got more than I have.”
“How much have you got, both of you together?” asked the old soldier, with his eyes twinkling.
“Nearly a handful, I should say,” replied Cyril.
“A handful, sir! Why, what’s that? I’ve got quite half a gallon.”
“You have?” cried Perry. “Father will be so pleased.”
“Course he will, sir,” said John Manning, with a self-satisfied smile. “‘Get every seed you can,’ he says, ‘and they’ll hardly notice you.’
“‘Right, sir,’ I says, and I set to work quietly, going a bit here, and a bit there, in among the trees, making believe I was making for them cocoa-nut leaves as the Indians chew; and whenever I caught one of the Injuns watching me, I picked a leaf, and began to chew it, and nodded at him, and said bono, bono. You should have seen how he grinned and showed his teeth at me, Master Cyril, and I could see he was thinking what a fool this Englishman was. But I wasn’t quite so stupid as he thought, eh?”
“But that’s not cocoa-nut leaf,” said Cyril, “but the leaf of the coca.”
“Well, sir, that’s what I say. I know it isn’t the nuts but the leaves they chew.”
“But the coca leaf’s a different thing.”
“Course it is, sir; one’s a leaf and t’other’s a nut.”
“But, don’t you see, cocoa-nut leaf and coca leaf are different things?”
“No, sir; but it don’t matter. They think I’m hunting for them leaves to chew, and they laugh at me, and all the time I’m getting a good heap of the seeds the colonel wants. ’Tain’t the first time he’s sent me to forage.”
“But where are the seeds?” said Cyril.
“All right, sir,” said John Manning, with a look full of cunning. “Never you put all your eggs in one basket, sir.”
“Of course not; but I hope you’ve put them in a dry place. Seeds are no use if they’re not kept dry.”
“They’re all right, sir. I’ve got some in each of my pockets, and some along with my cartridges in my satchel, and some inside the lining of my coat, and a lot more round my waist.”
“Round your waist?” cried Cyril. “You can’t wear seeds round your waist.”
John Manning chuckled once more.
“Can, if you put ’em in an old stocking first, sir,” he said. “But look here, young gents, as I’m so much more lucky than you are, and know better where to go for ’em, you’d better take part o’ mine, and leave me free to fill up again.”
“Yes, that will be best,” assented Perry. “I can take a lot in my pockets.”
“Any one looking, sir?”
“Very likely; but I shall take no notice. They won’t know what we’re changing from one pocket to the other, so let them watch.”
“All right, sir; then here goes,” said the old soldier, thrusting a hand deep down into his trousers pocket, and drawing out a quantity of seed. “Here you are, sir; and I’d make believe to eat a bit in case any one is watching.”
But as they were seated out of the sun, in the shade of the rough hut that had originally been put up for drying the kina bark, they were pretty well hidden from watchers, and able to carry on the transfer in comparative secrecy.
“But this isn’t seed of the cinchona tree,” cried Cyril excitedly.
“What!” said the old soldier sharply, and as if startled. Then altering his tone to one of easy confidence, with a dash of the supercilious. “Don’t you talk about what you can’t understand, sir. These here are what the colonel showed me, and told me to pick for him.”
“They’re not the same as my father told me to pick,” cried Perry.
“Well, seeing as you’re young gents, and I’m only a sarvant,” grumbled the man, “it ain’t for me to contradict, and I won’t; but I will say them’s the seeds the colonel told me to pick, and there they are, and you’d better put ’em away.”
“I’m not going to put these in my pocket,” said Cyril, “for I know they’re wrong.”
“And I certainly shan’t put them in mine,” said Perry.
“Look here, young gents, ain’t this a bit mutinous?” said John Manning. “Colonel’s orders were that we should collect them seeds, and if you’d got the best lot, I should have helped you; but as you haven’t got the best lot, and I have, ain’t it your duty to help me?”
“Yes; and so we should, if you hadn’t made a blunder.”
“But I ain’t, young gents; these here are right.”
“No,” said Perry. “These are right,” and he took a few seeds from his pocket.
“And these,” said Cyril, following his companion’s example.
“Not they,” cried John Manning warmly. “They ain’t a bit like mine.”
“No, not a bit,” said Cyril triumphantly.
“No, nor his ain’t like yours, Master Perry.”
The boys stared, for this was a new phase of the question, and they eagerly inspected the treasures.
“I’m sure I’m right,” said Perry confidently.
“And I’m sure I’m right,” cried Cyril.
John Manning put his arms round his knees, as he sat on the ground, and rocked himself to and fro, chuckling softly.
At that point the colonel came up, and looked round wonderingly.
“You’re just in time, father,” cried Perry. “Look at this seed John Manning has collected. – Show him, John.”
The old soldier triumphantly pulled out a handful, and held it under the colonel’s nose.
“What’s that?” said his master.
“The seed you told me to forage for, sir.”
“Absurd! There: throw it away.”
“Throw it away, sir?”
“Of course. It is not what I told you. There, take and throw it away, where the Indians see you do it, and they will pay less attention next time they see you collecting.”
John Manning said nothing then, but went out of the slight hut frowning, came back, and the colonel turned to the boys.
“Well,” he said, “what have you got?”
They both eagerly showed a little of the seed, and the colonel uttered an ejaculation full of impatience.
“No, no,” he said; “pray be careful. That is not the same as you got for me the day before yesterday.”
“Not mine?” cried Perry.
“No, sir; nor yours either, Cyril. They are both cinchona, but of the inferior, comparatively useless kinds.”
John Manning chuckled.
“But the seeds are so much alike, sir,” said Cyril.
“Yes, but the broken capsules with them are not, boy. The good splits down one way, the inferior the other. There, I suppose I must give you all another lesson. Come and have a walk at once.”
He led the way out, all taking their guns, in the hope of getting a little fresh provision, as well as to throw off the attention of the Indians, who smiled at them pleasantly enough, as they looked up from their tasks of cutting and peeling the bark from the trunks and branches, most of the men with their jaws working, as they chewed away at the coca leaf, which every one seemed to carry in a little pouch attached to the waist.
No one seemed to pay further heed to them, but they were soon conscious that they were being watched, for an Indian was visible, when they went past the spot where their two guides were watching the browsing mules; and then, as they plunged into the forest, from time to time there was an indication that they were being well guarded, and that any attempt at evasion would result in an alarm being spread at once.
Once well out among the trees, the colonel began picking leaf and flower indiscriminately, to take off the watcher’s attention; but he contrived, at the same time, to rivet the boys’ attention upon the flower and seed of the most valuable of the cinchona trees, indicating the colour of the blossom, and the peculiarities of the seed-vessels, till even John Manning declared himself perfect.
“Seeds only,” said the colonel. “I give up all thought of trying to take plants. We must depend upon the seeds alone, and we ought to get a good collection before we have done.”
“And then, father?” asked Perry.
“Then we go back as fast as we can, if – ”
“If what?” asked Perry.
“The Indians will let us depart.”
“That’s it, sir,” put in John Manning. “What I was saying to the young gentleman this morning. They don’t mean to let us go. We’ve regularly walked into a trap.”
There was silence for a few moments, the colonel frowning, as if resenting the interference of his servant, but directly after he said quietly:
“I’m afraid you are right, John Manning, but we must set our wits against theirs. In another week we shall have quite sufficient of the treasured seed to satisfy me – that is, if you three are more careful – then we must start back, before our stores begin to fail.”
“What about the guides, sir?” said Cyril. “They will not help us.”
“No,” said the colonel. “Not the Indian guides, but I have a little English guide here, upon which we shall have to depend. There must be other passes through the mountains, and we know that our course is due west. We shall have to trust to this.”
He held out a little pocket-compass as he spoke, and then, after they had added somewhat to the store of seed already collected, both boys this time making the proper selection of tree from which to gather the reproductive seeds, they walked slowly back toward the camp.
But not alone: the Indians who had followed them outward, returning slowly behind them, carefully keeping far in the background, and trying to conceal the fact that they were on the watch; but it was only too plain to all that it would require a great deal of ingenuity to escape notice and get a fair start when the time came for making their escape.
Chapter Sixteen
Preparing for Flight
“I say, Cil, I don’t quite know what to make of it,” said Perry, a few days later. “These people are as civil and amiable as can be; they surely won’t try to stop us when we want to go?”
“You wait and see,” was the reply. “They will. I know them better than you do.”
“But they don’t think we have got anything to take away.”
“Perhaps not; but they will think that as soon as we are out of their sight we shall be searching for and taking something away that they want to preserve, and if we do get away unseen, they will be after us directly.”
“Well, we shall soon see,” said Perry rather gloomily, as he sat gazing down into a deep valley running due south, in whose depths a bright gleam here and there told of the presence of water.
“Yes, we shall soon know now. Your father and John Manning have been carefully examining the mules, and going over the stores and packages.”
“Have they? I didn’t know.”
“I did, and then they came out here and sat for some time over their guns.”
“On the lookout for birds?”
“On the lookout to see if this way would do for us to escape.”
Perry whistled.
“Did they tell you so?”
“No; but I put that and that together.”
“Put why go this way? This does not lead over the mountains.”
“Because the Indians will not think we should choose this route.”
“But we couldn’t get over the mountains from down there.”
“We must,” said Cyril quietly.
“But,” said Perry, “we can’t get the mules and their loads away without Diego knowing.”
“Must again,” replied Cyril. “We can’t escape without a supply of food, and we must have the mules to carry it, for we may be weeks wandering about in the gorges of the mountains. So it’s must, must, must, my lad. We’ve got it to do, and we’re going to do it.”
“I say.”
“Well – what?”
“Do you think it will come to a fight?”
“Not if your father can help it; but if it does, we shall have to do some shooting.”
Perry drew his breath hard.
“Don’t stare down the valley any more,” said Cyril, after a pause.
“Why? It’s very beautiful.”
“Because you’re watched. We’re watched always, sleeping or waking.”
“Then we shall never be able to get away,” said Perry despondently.
“Must, my lad. Why, we’re not going to let a pack of half-savage Indians prove too clever for us. What are you thinking about? There, let’s get back at once, or they’ll be thinking we mean something by sitting here.”
Perry rose and followed his companion, who made several halts in the forest before they reached the shelter-hut, to find the colonel and John Manning away; but they returned soon after, each carrying a couple of good-sized birds, which gave a colour to their morning’s walk.
This game John Manning bore off to prepare by the fire which Diego and his companion kept going night and day; and as soon as he had gone, the colonel seated himself, and looked curiously from one boy to the other.
“Well Cyril,” he said sharply, “ready to go home and meet your father?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the boy promptly. “I want to get it over.”
“And you, Perry, ready to go back to where you can sleep in a decent bed again?”
“Yes, father,” replied Perry; but there was a dubious tone to his words.
“That’s right. Listen, then, both of you. I trust to you to make no sign whatever, but to go on precisely the same as usual, so as to keep the Indians in ignorance of our intentions.”
“Then you are going to make a start, sir?” said Cyril eagerly.
“All being well, very soon, my lad.”
“But the mules, sir?”
“Ah, we shall see about that,” said the colonel. “I have now got together quite as much of the seed as I dared to hope for, and it would be foolish to delay longer. These Indian labourers are only working for somebody of importance, and if whoever he may be comes and finds us here, our position may be made very unpleasant, so I have decided for us to start at dark, to-morrow evening.”
This announcement caused a peculiar fluttering in the breasts of both lads, for they felt that they would not be able to get away without a struggle, since that they were detained here until some one in authority arrived, seemed certain; and they well understood how necessary it was for them to get away if possible.
The rest of the day passed like a feverish dream to Cyril, whose thoughts were of a very mingled nature. On the one hand, there was the risk to be run in making their escape, and the long perilous journey before them; on the other hand, there was home at San Geronimo, and his father’s stern face rose before him, full of reproach for his conduct; and now, more than ever, he asked himself how he could have been so mad and so cruel to those who loved him, as to leave in the way he had.
Too late for repentance then, as he knew, and he had to face the inevitable, and take the punishment he deserved as patiently as he could.
Toward dark the boys found themselves alone with John Manning, who whispered: “Been over the arms and ammunition, gentlemen, and they’re in splendid order. Bit touched with rust, but that won’t interfere with their shooting.”
“Don’t talk about it,” said Perry petulantly.
“Can’t help it, sir. We’re off to-morrow night, and some of us may have to cover the retreat. You can’t do that sort o’ work without tools.”
“Look here,” said Cyril eagerly. “How about the mules?”
“I don’t know, sir,” replied the old soldier. “That’s the puzzle of it. But the colonel knows what he means to do, of course. I’ve been with him before, when he was going to make an advance.”
“But this is a retreat,” said Cyril sharply.
“What, sir? Retreat? British soldiers don’t retreat. Of course they have to make an advance the other way on sometimes. You can’t always be going in one direction; but they don’t retreat. It’ll be all right, though, sir. You’ll see: for following orders, I’ve got all the packs ready to stow on the saddles at a moment’s notice, and we shan’t leave nothing behind.”
They had a hint soon after of there being a plan all ready, for the colonel came and hunted Cyril out to act as interpreter, and walked down with him to where Diego and his companion were seated, while the mules were browsing here and there, some fifty yards away.
“Now, interpret as well as you can,” said the colonel. “Tell him that I am very angry about the state of the mules, which look half-starved. The feed about here is disgraceful, and all the time there is a splendid supply on the other side of the clearing, beyond where the Indians are cutting and stacking the bark.”
Cyril’s voice shook a little from anxiety as he began his interpretation, but it soon grew stronger, and he gave the colonel’s wishes with so much energy that the guide looked terribly disturbed as he replied.
“What does he say?” cried the colonel angrily.
“That the head-man of the kina gatherers gave orders that they were to be pastured here.”
“Then tell him to go to the head-man, and say I order them to be moved at once over to the other side of the huts, ready for me when I wish to go on.”
Diego started off at once, and returned soon after with the head-man and about a dozen of the Indians, to whom the colonel’s wishes were repeated; and then came quite a deprecating reply that it was impossible, for the woodcutters were going in that direction the very next day, and the mules would be disturbed again.
“Tell him my mules are of more consequence than his bark gatherers,” said the colonel, “and that I insist upon the mules being moved.”
There was a laboured interpretation, a short buzz of conversation, and then a reply came through Diego that the head-man would obey the white chief’s orders, and remove the mules to better pasture; but it could not be there, in the place he wished.
“Tell him anywhere, so long as the poor beasts are properly fed.”
The colonel stalked away, with his rifle in the hollow of his arm, the Indians giving place obsequiously; but he turned back to Cyril. “Tell John Manning to stop and see where they are driven, and then come and report to me. – You two follow.”
Cyril gave the colonel’s orders, and then went after him to the hut, where they sat waiting for nearly an hour before Manning arrived.
“Well, where are the mules?”
“They’ve driven ’em out of the bit of forest, sir, and down on the other side toward the slope of that big valley.”
“Hah!” ejaculated the colonel; and then, after a pause, “The very spot.”
“But you said the other side,” said Cyril; “at the back of their huts.”
“Where I knew they would not have them,” said the colonel. “It looked to them, in their childish cunning, like an attempt on my part to get the animals down toward the point from which we came; and, of course, they would not do that. I hardly expected such good fortune, boys; but the mules are in the very place I wish. Now we have to devise a means of getting those mules loaded unseen, and then starting off down the valley as soon after dark to-morrow night as possible.”
A long conversation followed as to those best means, and the colonel heard each one’s proposal impatiently.
Perry said it was impossible, and that they must all take as much provision as they could carry, and leave the mules behind.
John Manning said there was only one way of doing it, and that was for him to take the stock off one of the guns, and as soon as it was dusk creep round the camp, and catch every one of the sentries by surprise, and then club him, and bind his hands and feet.
“I could stun ’em, sir, and then they couldn’t give no alarm.”
“You mean, murder the poor wretches,” said the colonel quietly.
“No, no, sir; not so bad as that,” grumbled the man. “These Injuns have got heads as thick as rams. More likely to spoil the gun.”
“Now you, Cyril,” said the colonel quietly.
“I can’t propose anything, sir,” said Cyril frankly. “It seems to me that we might pass one or two of the Indians, but the others would see or hear the mules.”
“And you can propose nothing else?”
Cyril shook his head, and the colonel got up and went out of the hut, to go and walk up and down where the Indians were busy, giving first one a friendly nod, and then another, evidently to their great satisfaction.
The party in the hut watched him for a few moments, and then John Manning said:
“There aren’t no better way, gentlemen, than mine. I don’t want to kill none of ’em, so long as they don’t try to kill me, or any of you. If they do, why, of course, it makes me feel nasty, and as if I could do anything to stop ’em.”
“It’s too horrid and butcher like,” said Cyril firmly.
“Yes,” assented Perry.
“Very well, then, gentlemen, suppose you propose a better way. It’s of no use to go an’ say, ‘Please we’re tired of staying here, and want to go,’ because that only would be waste of breath.”
“Yes,” said Perry sadly. “We shall never get away till they give us leave.”
“Hear that, Mr Cyril, sir; that’s my young master, and the son of a stout soldier as never turned his back on an enemy in his life. Don’t say you’re going to give up like that, sir.”
“No,” said Cyril, setting his teeth. “I’m not going to give up, and he is not going to give up either. We’ll get away somehow, though we can’t see the way just now.”
“That we will, sir,” cried John Manning excitedly. “Bri’sh wits again’ Injun wits. Bah! who says we can’t beat them? It’s all right, gentlemen. I know the colonel, and have known him since he was a slip of an ensign, and I was not much more than a raw Johnny of a boy fresh from the awkward squad. I say I know the colonel, and he’s only been leading us on. Wait till to-morrow night. He’s got some dodge or another ready to fire off, and this time two days we shall be on our way back, and the Injuns’ll be howling like mad, because they can’t make out which way we’ve gone.”
