Real Gold: A Story of Adventure

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER SIX.

  A NIGHT ALARM.

  "Did you give the Indian lad the knife?" said the colonel as they cameabreast.

  "No, father."

  "Go and do it at once, and mind how you give it; the fellow's as wild asa hawk. I thought he was going to spring over the precipice as soon asI touched him."

  Perry took out the pocket-knife he had with him, and stepped forward;but a word from his father checked him.

  "I don't want to make too much fuss over this, Perry, my lad," he said,"but you displayed a great want of nerve. You did not act like ahealthy, sturdy, English boy, and but for that Indian's quick decision,you would have lost your life."

  "Yes, father, I'm afraid so."

  "Then, for goodness' sake, my lad, try to shake off this girlishcowardice, or you'll make me regret bringing you."

  "I'll try, father," said the boy, his face flushing hotly.

  "That's right. I'm sure Captain Norton's son would have cut a betterfigure."

  Perry's face grew hotter, and he felt a bitter feeling of annoyance atbeing compared so unfavourably with the lad who had been his companion.

  The feeling was only momentary, though, and he went on and overtook theIndian, with the knife in his hand.

  He was going to give it without a word, but the idea that, perhaps,after all, the half-savage being might understand a few words ofEnglish, flashed into his mind, and he said:

  "This is not worth much, but I hope you'll keep it in memory of mygratitude for your bravery to-day."

  To his disgust, the Indian paid not the slightest attention, but trudgedon barefooted beside the mule, as if perfectly unconscious of any onebeside him, and Perry's nerves being all on the jar, he felt irritatedat giving, un-noticed, a pretty speech.

  "Here, catch hold," he said. "This is for you."

  He thrust the knife into the Indian's grimy hand as he spoke, and thenwalked on to where Diego received him with a smile of welcome, and begantalking directly in his mongrel tongue, perfectly content if the boyseemed to understand a word here and there, when he pointed tocavernous-looking holes in the cliff face opposite to him, to somebrighter and greener spot in the gorge, or to some distant fall whichglittered in the sunshine which came obliquely down into the narrowvale.

  All at once there was a beating of wings, and one of the huge condors,startled from the eyrie it occupied high up above their heads, suddenlythrew itself off, and began to fly round, rising higher and higher,while the Indian rapidly fitted one of the long feathered arrows becarried to the string of his bow, waited till the great bird was glidingby, and then loosed the shaft. The arrow struck the condor in the wing,and made the huge bird give itself an angry jerk, as if it were disposedto turn upon its aggressor; but as Perry watched, the bird gave a fewrapid beats with its pinions, shooting upwards rapidly, and though itwas some distance away, the air was so clear that Perry distinctly sawthe long feathered arrow shaken out of the condor's white wing, and fallslowly down into the depths of the gorge, while the great bird literallyshot up for some distance, and then glided over a shoulder of themountain they were flanking, and disappeared.

  The Indian looked at Perry and shook his head, as he muttered some wordswhich were easily interpreted.

  "Lost my arrow, and did not get my bird."

  "And a good thing too," said Perry. "It would have been of no use, andonly wanton destruction."

  The man nodded and smiled as if Perry's words were full of sympathy forhis loss. But they fell upon other ears as well, for the colonel wasclose behind.

  "Rather misdirected sympathy, I'm afraid, Perry, my lad," he said. "Thebird would have been no use to us, but I dare say its death would havesaved the lives of a good many young vicunas and llamas."

  Perry stared for a moment or two, and then: "Oh yes, I know. Do theylive up in these mountains?"

  "Yes, you'll see plenty by-and-by."

  "Sort of goats, aren't they, father?"

  "Well, my boy, they partake more of the nature of a camel or sheep, asyou'll say whenever you see the long-necked, flat-backed creatures. Butit's getting time for camping. The mules are growing sluggish, andsniffing about for food."

  "I hope we shan't camp here," said Perry with a shiver.

  "Not an attractive place, but I daresay Diego has some spot marked outin his eye, for he has evidently been along here a good many timesbefore."

  Ten minutes later, as the snowy peaks which came into view began to growof a bright orange in the western sunshine, one of the mules in frontuttered a whinnying squeal, and the rest pricked up their ears andincreased their pace.

  "Steady there! Wo-ho!" shouted John Manning. "Hadn't we better sound ahalt, sir, or some of 'em 'll be over the side of the path."

  "I think we may trust them; they smell grass or something ahead, andknow it is their halting-place."

  "But look at that brown 'un, sir; he's walking right out from under hisload."

  A few hitches, though, and a tightening of the hide ropes, kept theloosened pack in its place; and soon after, to Perry's great delight,the gorge opened out into a bright green valley, where, a snug,well-sheltered nook being selected, the mules were once more unloaded,and a fire lit. Then, thanks to John Manning's campaigning cleverness,before the light on the mountain tops quite died out, they were seatedat a comfortable meal, with a good fire crackling and burning betweenthem and the Indians, wood for once in a way being fairly plentiful,there being a little forest of dense scrubby trees low down by thestream which coursed through the bottom of the valley.

  "Not quite such a savage-looking place, Master Perry," said JohnManning, when the colonel had taken his gun and gone for a final lookround before they retired to their blankets on the hard ground.

  "Savage! Why, it's beautiful," cried Perry, who had been watching thecolours die out on one snowy peak.

  "Yes, sir, I suppose it is," said the man, shaking his head; "but wedidn't take all the trouble to see things look beautiful. We can dothat at home. What I'm thinking is that the place don't look healthy."

  "Not healthy? Up here in the mountains?"

  "Tchah! I don't mean that way, sir; I mean healthy for your pocket.This looks like a place where you might have a farm and gardens, andkeep sheep. You'd never come here to search for di'monds, andsapphires, and things."

  "N-no," assented Perry.

  "O' course not. We want good wild broken stone muddle over rockyplaces, where you have to let yourselves down with ropes."

  "Or ride down on rocs' backs, eh, John?"

  "Yes, sir, that's your sort. We've passed several goodwholesome-looking places that I should have liked to have hunted over;but of course the colonel knows best, and he is leading us somewhere forus to have a regular good haul. Tired, sir?"

  "Yes, pretty well, but one feels as if one could go on walking a longway up in these mountains."

  "Well, sir, we've got every chance, and I'd just as soon walk as getacross one of these mules, with your legs swinging, and the thin,wiry-boned crittur wriggling about under you. I always feel as if myone was groaning to himself, and looking out for a good place where hecould thrust his hind-legs up and send me flying over his head into theair, where he could watch me turn somersaults till I got to the bottom."

  "Oh, they're quiet enough," said Perry.

  "Oh, are they, sir? Don't you tell me. My one never misses a chance ofrubbing my leg up against a corner, and when he has done there, he goesto the other extreme and walks right along the edge, so that my otherleg is hanging over the side; and if I look down, I get giddy, andexpect that every moment over we shall both go."

  "I tell you, they don't mean anything," cried Perry.

  "Then why does my one, as soon as he knows he has frightened me, beginto show his teeth, and laugh and wriggle his ears about, as if he wereenjoying himself right down to the roots. I don't believe these mulesare any good, Master Perry, that I don't, and as aforesaid, I alwaysfeel as if I'd rather walk."

 
Further conversation was put an end to by the return of the colonel, andsoon after, leaving the Indians crouching near the fire, which theyseemed reluctant to leave, the English party sought the corner which hadbeen selected for their sleeping-place, rolled themselves in theirblankets, and with valises for pillows, and their stores piled up for ashelter from the wind, they were not long in dropping off to sleep.

  Perry's was sound enough at first, but after a time he began to dreamand go through the troubles connected with crossing the swinging bridgeagain. He found himself half-way across, and then he could go nofarther in spite of all his efforts, till, just as the condor was aboutto take advantage of his helplessness, and descend to fix its talons inthe sides of his head and pick out his eyes, the Indian made a snatch athim, and dragged him across for him to awake with a start.

  It was all so real that his brow was wet with perspiration, but hesettled what was the cause, and changed his position peevishly.

  "That comes of eating charqui late at night, and then lying on one'sback," he muttered, and dropped off to sleep again directly.

  But only to begin dreaming again of the condor, which was floatingoverhead, spreading its wings quite thirty feet now; and there was thescene of the day repeated with exaggerations. For the Indian guide bentan immense bow, and sent an arrow as big as a spear whizzing through theair, to strike the huge bird, which swooped down close by, and looked athim reproachfully, as it said in a whisper: "I only came to bring backyour knife."

  Perry lay bound in the fetters of sleep, but all the same, his earsseemed to be open to outer impressions, for the words were repeatedclose to him, and he started up on to his elbow.

  "Who's there? who spoke?" said a low firm voice close to him. "Thatyou, Perry?"

  "Yes, father," replied the boy, as he heard the ominous _click-click_ ofthe double gun that lay by the colonel's side.

  "What were you doing?"

  "Nothing, father. I just woke up and fancied I heard some one speak."

  "There was a whisper, and some one brushed against me just before. Didyou move from your place?"

  "No, father," said Perry, feeling startled now.

  "Manning!"

  "Sir!"

  "Have you been moving?"

  "No, sir; fast asleep till you woke me, talking."

  "Then some one has been visiting us," whispered the colonel. "Hah!what's that?"

  "Something rustling along yonder, sir."

  _Bang! bang_! Both barrels were discharged with a noise which seemed tohave awakened all the sleeping echoes of the mountains around theircamp.

  Then, as the colonel hastily reloaded his piece, Perry and John Manningsprang up, each seizing his gun, and waited.

  "I missed him; but, whoever it is, he won't come prowling about again.Follow me quickly. Stoop."

  Bending down, they hurried across the few yards which intervened betweenthem and the smouldering ashes of the fire, which, fanned now and thenby the breeze sweeping along the valley, gave forth a faintphosphorescent-looking light, by which they could just make out thefigures of the three Indians standing with their bows and arrows ready,as if about to shoot.

  "Which of you came over to us?" said the colonel in Spanish; but therewas no reply, and the speaker stamped his foot in anger. "What folly,"he cried, "not to be able to communicate with one's guide!"

  "Could it have been some one from the valley lower down?" whisperedPerry, who then felt a curious startled sensation, for he recalledperfectly the words he had heard while asleep, or nearly so: "I onlycame to bring back your knife."

  "Then it must have been the little Indian, and he could speak Englishafter all."

  Accusatory words rose to Perry's lips, but he did not speak them. Astrange reluctance came over him, and he shrank from getting the poorfellow into trouble, knowing, as he did, that his father would be verysevere on the intruder upon their little camp. For it was a fact thatthe little Indian had crept up to where they slept and spoken to him.The excitement had prevented him from noticing it before, but he held inhis hand the proof of the visit, tightly, nervously clutched: the knifewas in his left hand, just as it had been thrust there while he slept.

  "Attend here," said the colonel. Then very sternly: "You cannotunderstand my words, perhaps, but you know what I mean by my actions.One of you came for some dishonest purpose to where we lay sleeping, andI wonder I did not hit whoever it was as he ran.--Give me your hand,sir," he cried; and he seized and held Diego's right hand for a fewmoments.

  Then dropping it, he held out his hand to the other Indian, who eagerlyplaced his in the colonel's palm.

  "An outside enemy, I'm afraid," muttered the colonel; "they are bothperfectly calm.--Now you, sir," he continued, turning to the last comer,who hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hand.

  This was all in the dim starlight, the figures of the men being madeplainer from time to time by the faint glow from the fire; but theirfaces were quite in the shade as the colonel took the last comer's handand grasped it tightly, while Perry's heart began to beat, for he feltthat the discovery was coming; and hence he was not surprised at thecolonel's fierce and decided action.

  "Your pulse galloping," he cried angrily, as he dragged the dimly-seenfigure forward. "Perry, Manning, cover those two men, and if they makea gesture to draw their bows, fire at once.--Now, you scoundrel, it wasyou, and you had come to steal."

  "No, he had not, father; he came to give me back my knife."

  "What!" cried the colonel angrily.

  "It's a fact; he put it in my hand while I slept; and here it is."

  "Then--"

  "It's quite true, sir, and no good to keep it up any longer."

  "Cil!" cried Perry in astonishment.

  "Yes. Don't be very angry with me, Colonel Campion. I felt obliged tocome; I couldn't stop away."

  "Why, you treacherous young rascal," cried the colonel, shaking himviolently.

  "Don't, sir, please; you hurt!" cried Cyril half angrily.

  "How dare you mutiny against your father's commands, and come after uslike--?"

  "I dunno," said Cyril mournfully. "I felt obliged; I wanted to be withPerry there."

  "But to come masquerading like this, sir! How dare you?"

  "I dunno, I tell you," said the boy petulantly. "It isn't so very niceto come over the stones without shoes or stockings, and only in thisthing. It's as cold as cold, besides being painted and dirtied up as Iam. My feet are as sore as sore."

  "And serve you right, you young dog. What will your father say?"

  "I don't know what he'd have said if you'd shot me," grumbled Cyril.

  The colonel coughed.

  "You precious nearly did, you know," continued Cyril querulously. "Iheard the shots go crashing in among the bushes as I ran."

  "Then you shouldn't have come prowling about the camp in the middle ofthe night," cried the colonel. "Of course, sir, I took you for somewild beast or marauding Indian."

  "Well," said Cyril, "now you know, sir, and I suppose I can go back andtry to sleep."

  "Go back? Yes, sir, first thing--to your father," cried the colonelfiercely. "I suppose he does not know you have come?"

  "No, sir."

  "Of course not. A pretty disgraceful escapade, upon my word, sir! Ionly wish I were back in my regiment, and you were one of my subalterns.I'd punish you pretty severely for this, I promise you."

  "Would you, sir?" said Cyril drearily. "I thought I was gettingpunished enough. I'm sorry I disturbed you, sir; I only wanted to getclose up, and touch Perry's hand."

  "Bah!" cried the colonel. "Why did you want to touch Perry's hand?"

  "Because I was so lonely and miserable, lying there with my feet sore.I couldn't sleep, sir. The stones have cut them, and I was afraid towash them, for fear you should see how white my legs were."

  The colonel coughed.

  "Here; stop a moment, sir," he said, in rather a different tone. "Yousee, I might have shot you."

 
"Yes, sir," said Cyril dolefully. "And it did seem hard to be shot at,because I felt glad the poor fellow didn't go off the bridge."

  The colonel coughed again.

  "Hum, ha, yes," he said, a little huskily. "It was a very narrowescape, of course, and you behaved very well. You--er--yes, of course,you quite saved his life. But I shall say no more about that now.--Here, Manning, get Mr Cyril Norton a couple of blankets.--And you'llcome and lie down by us, sir; and mind this: no more evasions, noattempts to escape."

  "I shan't try to escape in the dark," said Cyril drearily. "Whereshould I escape to, sir?"

  "Ah! of course. Where to, indeed! So recollect you are a prisoner,till I place you back safely in your father's hands.--Stop! Halt! Whatare you doing, Perry?"

  "Only shaking hands with him, father," said the lad.

  "Then don't shake hands with him, sir. Shake hands with gentlemen, andnot with lads who disgrace themselves by disobeying their father'sorders, and satisfying their own selfishness by causing others intenseanxiety."

  Perry drew in a long, deep breath, which did not go down into his lungsproperly, but seemed to catch here and there.

  "One moment," said the colonel; "can you make that man Diegounderstand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then tell him and his companion to go to sleep again."

  Cyril said a few words to the guide, and the two Indians dropped down atonce, close to the warm ashes.

  "I suppose, then, he knew all about your escapade, sir, eh?" cried thecolonel. "Of course, he must have got you the Indian clothes andpaint."

  "It was all my fault, sir; don't blame him," said Cyril humbly. "I'mvery sorry I did it now. It seemed--"

  "Seemed? Well, what did it seem, eh? There, hold your tongue now, andgo and lie down by Perry. Recollect you are in an old soldier's camp,and I forbid all talking now. Stop!--er--are you hungry?"

  "No, sir; I can't eat," said Cyril bitterly.

  "Humph! There, go and lie down, both of you, and get to sleep.--Oncemore, no talking, Perry; not till to-morrow morning.--Good-night, bothof you."

  By this time John Manning had taken two soft blankets out of one of thepacks, and handed them to the prisoner with a very unmilitary whisper.

  "My!" he said, "what a game, Mr Cyril."

  But neither of the boys smiled. They lay down in Perry's old place, andCyril uttered a sigh of content, and then a stifled sob, as he feltPerry's hand seeking for his to hold it tightly.

  "Good-night," he whispered, as Perry bent over him, and then there wasanother whisper.

  "Can father send you back, Cil?" and the answer came:

  "It's too late now. No."

  Just then the colonel lay down again in his old place, and anotherrustling told that John Manning was curling up in his.

  "Good-night, Perry, my boy," said the colonel.

  "Good-night, father," replied Perry, and then to himself, "Oh, I hopehe'll say good-night to poor old Cil."

  He had his wish.

  "Good-night, Cyril," came rather huskily.

  "Good-night, sir," said the boy, in a voice he could hardly keep steady.

  And then came:

  "Thank God I did not hit you when I fired, my lad."

  Then there was nothing heard but the whispering of the wind below themamong the trees.