The Motor Scout: A Story of Adventure in South America

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER XXI

  RUN TO EARTH

  Young Tim was at an age when boys are a trifle sensitive about theirpersonal appearance. He was glad that on returning to camp his ravagedcomplexion was obscured in the dark. Nobody seemed at all concernedabout his protracted absence. Colonel Zegarra was playing at cards witha friend from the town; the other officers and the men were amusingthemselves after their fancy. Tim made a round of the camp, and wasalmost surprised to find that sentries were properly posted. Thevedettes along the roads had been changed at the intervals arranged;military routine had been observed. The only departure from custom,perhaps, was Colonel Zegarra's allowing Tim to append a postscript tohis nightly despatch. Tim had intended to say nothing of his recentadventure; but reflecting that Pardo might visit his father for thepurpose of extorting a ransom, he thought it just as well to certify hissafety.

  During the night, when his turn for guard duty came, he pondered thegeneral situation. With a zeal natural in a young officer, he wanted to"do something": inactivity was boring; he wished the sluggish enemywould wake up. He wondered by which route they would march when themovement did at last begin: by the eastern track or by the western? Inthinking over the probabilities, it suddenly struck him that bydestroying the wooden bridge a few miles beyond Durand's house he couldrender the eastern road--the more likely one--impassable. The ravinewas about thirty feet wide. The one other spot at which it could becrossed was several miles to the east, approachable only over very roughcountry. By preventing the passage of the enemy by the bridge he wouldcompel them to return to the cross-track and come by the western route,at a loss of many hours.

  To destroy the bridge would be a very simple matter. It wanted only agood charge of powder. But Tim reflected that it would be a pity toblow it up prematurely, in case the enemy elected to come by the otherroute after all. The bridge might be useful to his own side. So hedecided to ask Colonel Zegarra's permission to mine it, to clear of allcover a space on each side of the ravine, and to leave a smalldetachment of his own Japanese at some distance on the south side withorders to fire the mine at the critical moment. One of the mountedvedettes might be posted at the top of the long incline beyond, to rideat full speed to the bridge as soon as he should discover signs of anapproach in force. Such a headlong gallop would be dangerous in thedark, so Tim thought of replacing him at night by an infantry outpost offour men. He would station them say a hundred yards north of thebridge, and theirs would be the duty to fall back and blow it up ifdanger threatened.

  He was explaining the scheme next morning to his complacent colonel whennews arrived through his chain of vedettes that small parties of theenemy had been seen moving down from the Inca camp towards the upperjunction of the paths. There was no indication of a general forwardmovement. They were merely feeling their way, having apparentlydiscovered, perhaps by the want of news from the town, that somethingunusual was afoot. The wooden bridge being only a little more than fivemiles from Colonel Zegarra's position, there would probably be time tomake all preparations for the explosion before the real advance of theenemy began. The colonel agreed to the suggestion. Tim was surprisedat his extraordinary complaisance, his perfect contentment with thestate of figure-head. Afterwards, with more knowledge, he feltconsiderable respect for President Mollendo's tact. Zegarra had beenappointed to the command merely for the sake of appearances--to avoidany discontent among the Peruvians at being led by a foreigner. Hiscompliance with every proposal of Tim's had been prearranged.

  Tim chose the men for the work, took them out, and explained to them onthe spot what he wished them to do. Then he left them. He had resolvedto ride up the western road again, and see for himself what the enemywere about. Being convinced that their advance would be made along theeastern road, he intended to scout as far as the cross-track, andperhaps to ride some distance along it, till he came to a spot where anymovement from the Inca camp would be visible to him.

  His cycle had been well cleaned by one of the Japanese. He overhauledit finally himself, tested the sparking and the brakes, assured himselfthat the engine worked with the least possible noise, and that there wasplenty of petrol. Having filled the chambers of his revolver, and puton a well-stocked bandolier, he took leave of the colonel and set off.

  He felt safe for at least a dozen miles. There were four mountedvedettes along the track, the last of them being posted about a milebeyond Romana's cave. If the enemy was moving on this route also, thefact would already have been reported.

  The day was still young, and Tim, none the worse for his trouble of theprevious afternoon, rode on in high spirits. Though continually rising,the track was not really steep for the first fifteen or twenty miles. Hekept up a good speed, stopping every three miles to exchange a word withthe vedettes, and had just reached the spot where he expected to findthe last of them, when he was startled at seeing a man lying in acuriously huddled fashion at the side of the track a few yards ahead.He was slowing down, intending to stop and look more closely at theprone form; but suddenly there was a shot, and a bullet whistled pasthis head.

  Instantly he clapped on the brakes, brought the cycle to a standstill,sprang off--for the track was too narrow to turn while riding--andwheeling it round, ran a few yards, remounted, and set off at full speeddown the incline, bending over the handle-bar. There was a volleybehind him: the bullets pattered on the cliff at his right hand; and ashe wondered whether his pace would carry him out of danger, he heard theclatter of hoofs and the shouts of men at his back.

  He had no doubt of being able to distance the pursuers. The cycle couldleave the swiftest horse standing. They had ceased to fire, which hethought foolish. But his assurance was rudely dashed in a few seconds.A few hundred yards below the stream that crossed the track nearRomana's cavern, three men stood with levelled rifles, covering him.They were plainly waiting for him to come close enough to make certainof their aim.

  It was a desperate situation. On the one side a high cliff; on theother a steep precipice; behind, an unknown number of gallopinghorsemen; before, the waiting marksmen. If he dashed on, the three mencould scarcely fail to hit him; if he stopped, he would be quicklyovertaken by the men behind.

  In that critical dilemma, when a moment's hesitation would have beenfatal, he remembered the cave, some little distance on his right towardsthe waterfall. He brought his machine up with a jerk, sprang off,pushed it into a bush--there was no time to attempt to hide it, stillless to haul it with him--and dived among the scrub and saplings thatfringed the banks of the little stream. Bending double he raced up thewatercourse towards the beacon tree, tore aside the leafy screen at theentrance to the cave, and plunged breathless into the darkness. He waslike a fox that has run to earth.

  The cave must be discovered in a few minutes. He had no protection butthe darkness and his weapons. Could he block up the entrance? Hurryingto the wall, he dragged the box-beds over the floor, and placed themacross the gap, just within the threshold. The legs of the table wereso deeply imbedded in the ground that he could not move that; but he setthe stools on the boxes, thus forming a rough and very insecurebarricade. It was the best that he could devise; and, posting himselfin the dark a little to the left of the entrance, he hoped to be able tohold the enemy at bay for some time with his revolver.

  But it was a ticklish situation. As yet he did not know with how manymen he had to deal; there were probably enough to block up the trackcompletely in either direction. The vedettes whom he had passed did notexpect him to return by the same route; he would not be missed for aconsiderable time, unless they should have happened to hear the shots.This was unlikely. The wind was blowing from them to him; the windingsof the track and the height of the hills did not favour the travel ofsound. It seemed that the utmost he could hope was to be able to keepthe enemy off until nightfall, and then try to steal past them in thedarkness. They were probably, he thought, merely a scouting party
, notan advanced guard of the main body. Evidently they had fallen upon hisvedette unawares, killed him, and then divided. Seeing the motorbicycle approach, the three men scouting down the track had hidden untilhe had passed, knowing that he would be trapped between them and theircomrades higher up.

  When he had made his flimsy barricade, Tim stole to the entrance, pulledthe foliage aside, and looked out. On the track he saw eleven mengathered, holding their horses. They were talking excitedly; one manpointed to the motor-bicycle, another in the direction of the cave.They must have realised that they had their quarry safe, if they couldget at him. There was no way up the hill-side. He must be concealedsomewhere in the patch of scrub between them and the hill. To escape hewould have to come down to the track within a space of about a hundredyards above and below the stream. By thoroughly beating the scrub theysupposed they could drive him out.

  The discussion soon came to an end. They tied up their horses; then,leaving one man to guard the motor-cycle, so that if Tim ran from coverhe could not escape them, they scattered, and began to advance. Theymight have been hunters stalking a tiger through jungle. They movedwarily, and only now and then were visible to the anxious watcher at thecave. With a rifle he could have picked them off; the revolver wasuseless until they came to close quarters. He had a fleeting hope thatthey might pass the entrance to the cave without discovering it, and asthey drew nearer he slipped back out of sight. His nerves tingled;minute after minute went by, and he had almost concluded that the menmust have overshot the hiding-place when the curtain of foliage was bentaside, letting in a gleam of light. The entrance was discovered!

  The screen was dropped again. No doubt the men were discussing whatthey should do. The opening was narrow. To attempt to carry such aplace by assault might give the boldest pause. Some one must go first,and that man, if the defender was resolved to fight, was certain to beshot. The men were not particularly courageous; but there was a priceon the Ingles boy, and even timorous folk will pluck up their couragewhen there is a reward in view.

  A CHECK AT THE CAVE]

  When some minutes had elapsed, Tim ventured to draw near to the entranceand peep out through the leaves. The men were grouped some littledistance away at the brink of the stream; he heard the murmur of theirvoices. In a few moments they separated, and spread out to right andleft of the cave, keeping as much as possible under cover. One climbedinto the tree, and concealed himself amid the foliage. Tim guessed whatwas coming, and slipped away to the side of the cave. He was not amoment too soon. The enemy opened fire, and their shots, coming indifferent directions, flew criss-cross into the entrance. Fortunatelythe walls were soft, and the bullets dug into them instead ofricochetting or splintering. One fragment grazed Tim's wrist, a warningto retreat still farther.

  After two or three volleys the firing ceased. The enemy supposed, nodoubt, that some of their shots had taken effect, or had at any ratedriven their quarry from the entrance. Tim rushed back to his formerpost, just in time to fire his revolver as the assailants, shouting toencourage one another, came with a dash through the foliage. At thethreshold they were checked by the unexpected obstacle of Tim's barrier.For a few moments they stood there, trying to throw it down, cursing,yelling with pain as Tim, invisible in the inner darkness, slowly anddeliberately emptied his revolver. This was too hot for them. Theybroke away, and Tim, running to the entrance, saw them hurrying down theslope to find cover. They were carrying one of their comrades; anotherlay across the threshold.

  They returned to the track. There was another consultation among them;then four of them leapt on their horses and rode away northward. Threewent on foot down the track, doubtless to guard against surprise in thatdirection; one man still remained in charge of the bicycle, the lastheld the horses. Clearly they had not abandoned their purpose. Timwondered what their next move was to be. Surely the horsemen had notridden back to the Inca camp for help! It was more than twenty milesdistant. There and back the journey would take several hours. Theywould hardly spend so much time with the risk of assistance coming upfrom the Mollendists. The vedette who had been killed must be relievedere long, and for all they knew there might be a numerous detachment oftheir enemy within reach.

  Tim was not long left in doubt. In half an hour he saw the mounted menreturning, and recognised the explanation of their absence. One of themcarried an oblong object which revealed itself in a few moments as asheet of corrugated iron. Tim wondered where they could have got it,until he remembered that some distance up the hill there was a desertedhut, which had probably been at some time occupied by a Cholo shepherd.He jumped to the use to which the iron was to be put. It was to serveas a shield against his bullets.

  The riders dismounted at the stream, gave their horses to the manguarding the cycle, and disappeared into the scrub. Some time passed.When they emerged again Tim saw that they had surrounded the iron with akind of wicker cage. It could now be carried in front of the bearerwithout his exposing himself in any way to Tim's fire. Wicker and irontogether would be impervious to a revolver bullet.

  Tim had a few moments to make up his mind how to meet this ingeniousdevice. He slipped across the cave to the opposite side to that at whichhe had formerly been posted. The enemy would probably expect attackfrom the same quarter as before, and would turn their shield in thatdirection. He had just taken up his new position when bullets began tofly crosswise through the entrance. After this preparatory move theenemy made a determined rush. The first man, bearing the shield, camein and faced to the right, turning his back upon Tim, who had amomentary qualm about firing from the rear. That moment allowed the twonext men time to pull away the stools. He felt that hesitation would befatal, and fired. The first man dropped with a groan, and the shieldfell clattering upon the long box. Before Tim could fire a second shot,two men had scrambled across on all fours, and the entrance was darkenedby their comrades pressing behind.

  One of those who had entered sprang to his feet and discharged hisrevolver at random in the direction of Tim, whom he was as yet unable tosee, having come suddenly out of brilliant sunshine into gloom. Timslipped back quickly along the wall until he was in complete darkness,then ran on tiptoe across the cave. Turning when he reached the wall,he fired his barrels one after another, slipped more cartridges into thechambers, and crossed again. By this manoeuvre he bewildered the enemy,who were now, however, all in the cave, and protected almost as much ashimself by the darkness.

  He did not fire again, lest the flashes revealed his whereabouts. Allthat he could hope to do was to find some defensible position in theinterior and sell his life dearly. There was not even a chance ofdodging his enemy and slipping out, for one man had been left near theentrance. He was determined not to surrender. Even if the men nowhunting him did not butcher him on the spot to avenge their fallencomrades, the Prefect would have no mercy on his prisoner. He mustdefend himself to the last. Perhaps when it came to the final stand hemight have an opportunity of dealing with the four men singly.

  He retreated slowly along the wall, listening for the enemy, whom he wasquite unable to see. All at once he remembered the opening at thefarther end which Romana had shown him. A last hope flashed into hismind. If he could slip out there, replace the turning stone before hisexit was discovered, and pass through the waterfall into the open, therewas a bare chance of escape. It was true that he might be discovered bythe man with the cycle, or by the others on the watch down the track.But it was better to be killed in a dash for liberty than cooped up andslaughtered like a badger in a hole.

  Now he hastened his steps, creeping as fast as possible along thecurving wall. His hunters were no doubt feeling their way, on theirguard against an ambuscade. Everything depended upon his gaining theexit before they came to a spot where the removal of the stone would leta little daylight upon the scene. He ran along on tip-toe, bruising hisarms now and then when he encountered projections from the wall, andalmost dashing his head against the stone when
he suddenly stumbled uponit. Pressing the top, as he had seen Romana do, he turned the stone,clambered through the gap on to a ledge, and in ten seconds restored thestrange gate to its place. He reflected that the enemy, if they hadseen the fleeting gleam of light, would take some time to find the stoneand discover its manipulation, or, on the other hand, make their wayback through the cave to the opening by which they had entered.Whatever they did, he had gained at least a few minutes.

  From the ledge on which he now stood he looked eagerly about him. Infront of him was the waterfall, forming a filmy screen. He could seethrough it and around it. There was the man on the track a hundred andfifty yards away. Farther down the three men were still posted: theywere now on horseback. Tim hoped that they could not see him. He was,in fact, quite invisible to them, as a person behind a curtain in a roomis invisible to those without; though it is difficult for the one withinto realise this: he feels that, being himself able to see, he musthimself be seen.

  The rough ground and scrub in front of the cave was deserted. Thesolitary figure at the end of the watercourse was in charge of thehorses of the men in the cave, and of the three who had fallen to Tim'sshots. Near him, at the edge of the track, lay the man who had beencarried away wounded after the first attack. Tim could not see thecycle, but he had no doubt that it was there.

  What should he do? The men in the cave must soon discover that he wasgone. If one had the courage to strike a match the discovery must bemade almost at once. There was very little time. The obvious course wasto steal along the watercourse, and gain possession either of a horse orof the cycle. Escape on foot was impossible. He could not go otherwisethan by the track, and as soon as he appeared there he would be pursuedby the horsemen and overtaken in a few minutes. He resolved to creepdown to the man who stood alone, try to secure the cycle, or, if notthat, a horse, and ride away.

  To reach the watercourse he had to pass through the waterfall, or skirtit and appear within full view from the track. He decided on the formercourse. The magnified shower bath was shattering. Though it was soonover, he was almost stunned by the pelting water, and emerged breathlessand wet to the skin. Pausing for a moment to recover breath, he creptdown the watercourse. The channel was shallow; he had very little cover;but he could not waste time in careful scouting. At any moment the menmight return to the entrance of the cave and discover him. But bytaking advantage of every bush and patch of long grass that heencountered, he at last came within twenty yards of the Peruvianunperceived. The man had his eyes fixed on the cave, or he could hardlyhave failed to see the bent form stealing along.

  Stooping until his eyes were level with the top of the bank, Tim lookedahead. There was the cycle, propped against a thick bush. It was headeddown the track, as he had left it. He considered rapidly what he hadbetter do. He could not shoot the man in cold blood. The alternativeswere equally hazardous. He might make a dash for the cycle, start it,and try to get away before its guardian could seize him. But the manwas only a few yards from it; this plan could hardly succeed. Or hemight wriggle to within a few feet of the watchman, spring upon him witha sudden rush, and deal him a knock-out blow. He could not fail to beseen at that moment by the wounded man, if he was conscious; the alarmwould be given; but there might be just time for him to get away beforethe three men lower down the track, or the four in the cave, could takeaim at him.

  The latter course was recommended by the fact that the watchman'sattention was divided between the cave and the horses he held by thebridles. They were restless; the jingle of their harness and thestamping of their hoofs would mask any slight sound that Tim might makeas he approached.

  He slipped his revolver into his belt and crept along; then, gatheringhis strength, hurled himself upon the unsuspecting trooper. At the lastmoment of his rush the man half turned, hearing his footsteps, and gavehim the opportunity for getting home a smashing blow on the point of hischin. He tumbled like a log. But the success of the attack was almostTim's undoing. The horses kicked up their heels and stampeded wildly,some up, some down the track, one of them knocking Tim head over heels.But there were no bones broken. Springing to his feet, he rushed to thecycle, and wheeled it round. The engine was still firing; Tim ran a fewyards, vaulted into the saddle, and throwing open the throttle to itsfull extent, rode up the hill after the galloping horses. He wasscarcely conscious that the wounded man lying on the grass near by wasshouting at the top of his voice.