by E. J. Craine
CHAPTER III.
THE HORRIBLE CAVERN
There was no use resisting the gang for the six promptly jumped to thetask of securing the Flying Buddies with their own lariats, and everyman of them saw to it that there was no possible chance of them gettingout of the bonds.
"Now, let's take these nice rings--"
"Let those rings alone." It was the tall man and he spoke so sharplythat the would-be thief paused.
"Say, how do you get that way?"
"I'm telling you, let them alone, don't touch 'em."
"Aw, what's eatin' you--"
"Listen, if any man jack of you touches those rings, I'm through, see, Iquit right now--"
"Yeh, well, we aint grievin' none."
"What you got on your mind? What's the matter with the rings?"
"You weren't with the Big Boss as long as I was, see, and maybe younever heard his orders to steer clear of green rings, 'specially emeraldones. Lord amighty, his brother shot a guy one night fer taking them tworings."
"Shot him!"
Through the Flying Buddies' minds flashed the recollection of the nightwhen the De Castro plane had been driven through a raging storm only tobe brought down by members of the Big Boss' gang, including youngGordon. That was the time when the four were bound on a ledge and afellow who wore a tight green costume and close fitting mask, hadappeared, called the men to task for what they had done, and later beenfrightened away from the spot by the ingenious Ynilea.
"Yes. He said his brother's orders were not to touch the rings, anddon't I know once in Chicago a guy brought one in, said he'd picked itup in a hock shop, and the Big Boss kicked it through the window intothe lake, that's what he done."
"Yeh. Well, what do you reckon's the matter with them rings?"
"Sounds like a lot of stewed tripe to me," declared the chap who wasdetermined to possess himself of the jewels.
"Maybe it does," retorted Mills, "But I'm tellin' you to leave 'em be. Iasked one of the lieuts en' he told me that a long time ago, when therewasn't no white folks in the U. S. er down in these parts either, therewere rich Indians."
"Go on, Indians aint rich."
"Shut up, some of 'em were and are. Well, the whites came along, and sawthem all dressed up in gold feathers, the women wearing ropes ofdiamonds and pearls big as eggs. It made 'em sore so much wealth goin'ter waste, so they shot a mess of 'em and took the stuff. Only a few wasleft and they were good and sore, so they dug hiding places, deep onesin these here mountains, and they took a lot of the best green stonesthey could find and made 'em into rings--nice ones that a fella wouldlike to want fer himself en maybe fer his girl. Then, when the rings wasall ready they took them to their temple on top of one of the peaks, andthey prayed fer weeks and weeks, then they cussed them rings up one sideand down the other. Cussed everybody who got a look at one, cussed allhis family, and put some extra cussin' on the white guy who carried one,even fer a minute. Then they prayed some more to make it stronger, andthey cooked up a lot of meat on the temple and the smoke all wentstraight into the sky, meanin' that the cussin' had took, see! Then theypassed them rings around here and there so they'd bob up fer a long timeand raise Sam Hill with any white man that got hold of one," he saidimpressively.
"Cussed 'em, eh." The chap straightened, and despite their predicament,the Flying Buddies had difficulty to keep from roaring with laughter atthe strange recital. "Aw, I say, these fellows has been wearin' 'em!"
"Sure, en aint they outta luck?" That was evident to the gangster, whoresolutely turned his face from temptation and such glaring misfortune.
"Say, you guys know the way outta here 'cept by plane?" Mills demandedsuddenly.
"No we do not," Jim replied emphatically. He recognized the questioneras one of the men who had been on the ledge the night they were capturedwith the De Castros.
"Quit wastin' time on them. Come on in this place en we'll see whereit's leading," proposed the pilot. "We aint none of us hankerin' to hangaround here."
"No we aint," responded Lang. "You take that whirlgig plane en fly herwhere she won't be spotted--"
"I aint flying no plane that can be spotted side every other one betweenhere en Medicine Hat. En what's more, I aint leavin' my machine while Igo off some place else, see. How'd I get back, you goop--"
"That'll do--"
"Sure it will, but when I leave, it's in my own cock-pit, see."
"Yeh, en when he goes, I'm goin' long," spoke up a red-headed fellowstepping beside the pilot, his fist dug menacingly in his pocket.
"Oh, keep your shirts on," snapped the leader. "I fergot you couldn'tget back. Can you cover the machine up so if any one flies over shewouldn't stick out like a sore thumb?"
"Sure," the pilot agreed readily, then he and his pal strode off to thehelicopter. "Get the boys to chop us some vines," he called.
Paying no further attention to their captives, the men set to work witha will and soon the two planes were so effectively covered with foliagethat only a very close observer in the air would have suspected for amoment that they were not clumps of underbrush which had sprung out ofthe rocky crevices. Cautiously Mills and his red-headed pal examined thework and finally pronounced it finished.
"And we can get it off quick if we're needin' to leave in a hurry,"Mills announced with satisfaction.
"That's good," Lang nodded.
"What you going to do with those bozos," the red head demanded.
"Take 'em along," came the short answer. "Untie their feet so they canwalk." Two men set to the job and in a few minutes the Flying Buddieswere loose enough to stand but their arms were securely fastened andeach rope had a length left dangling so that their captors could keep afirm grip on them.
"Now, step lively--" came the order.
"You got to give us a minute so the blood will circulate in our legs,"Bob protested. "They are like pin cushions."
"Kick 'em around and they'll be good enough," Lang answered. "Move on,we're going."
With a helpless glance at each other the boys kicked and bent theirknees to relieve the discomfort, and in a moment they were being marchedbehind the red headed fellow into the opening where Bob had stood whenthe butterfly "storm" started such a series of misfortunes. Caldwell hadbeen in the place before and he knew that the soil was softer than outin the open, so now, on a pretense of limbering his stiffened limbs, hetook very short steps, bringing each foot down hard so that his shoesleft a heavy imprint. He was thankful that he had not worn soft soledshoes that morning and that his heels left a larger mark than those madeby the feet of members of the gang.
Jim observed this activity on the part of his step-brother, and added tothe clue in the trail by kicking bits of brush and sand with his toes.If by any possible bit of luck pilots from the British town found wherethe pair had been spending the morning almost anyone could be trusted todiscover in which direction they had been taken. He managed to glanceover his shoulders to see if the men coming behind him had thought ofthe possibility, but they were stepping quickly, for Red-head wasleading at a lively pace.
"Go on, you don't need to stop to kick all day. Your legs are goodenough," Lang snapped suddenly.
"Yeh, you're holdin' up traffic."
"They feel better now," Jim grinned cheerfully, but both boys continuedto make a track whenever possible.
The way they were following was undoubtedly some path used by eithernatives or woodsmen traversing the dense forest, and the further theywent into it, the more convinced the boys were that they were proceedingalong a secret trail built by the ingenious natives. Overhead the leavesand vines grew in a thick mass and soon the route began to grow darkerand darker, but Red-head kept going, feeling his way with his feet untilthey were making very little progress.
"Come on, get the lights out," Mills growled.
"Sure, nobody can see a light in here now," Red added. He did notproduce a flash himself, but two of the men in the rear did, sending th
erays on the floor of the trail. On they went at a quicker pace.
At times the forest cave lead them down steep declivities where it wasevident to the Flying Buddies that the enclosure was made by hand, notnature, although she had helped. Another time they were walking forwardon a woven floor and through the loosely secured vines they caughtglimpses of sparkling water which pounded against the rocks thatconfined it and sent a spray so high that the place was spongy and wet.Later they were close to the surface of the stream and the boys guessedits bed was an underground passage. At this point the route turnedsharply to the left and presently the flooring ended; they began toascend a gradual incline which they judged was a circuitous path throughsome rugged section of the country.
It seemed to Jim that they must have been going for hours. His feet werebeginning to tire and his calves felt as if every muscle was strained.He wondered about the Indians they had seen before the bandits came downin their plane and marveled more and more that nothing was done toimpede progress. By that time they began to climb, and now the foliagewas more dense, the air grew hot and stifling, as if the enclosure hadnot seen the light of day in many generations. Thinking it over the boyconcluded that this route was rarely used and it certainly was not sowell constructed as the hidden trail from Cuzco which he had traversedmonths before. In the first place, that was both light and the foul airdriven out, then he remembered that it was cared for by the men in thegreat Amy Ran Laboratories from which it was constantly purified.
Austin tried hard to keep his mind clear and reasoned that perhaps Langhad in some way discovered the bare spot in the vast Andean forest, andmay have investigated it, or he may have learned of it while working forthe Big Boss. Then, overcome with greed, he had organized this handfulof men to explore with him, calculating that the haul they would makewould give each greater wealth if they were not forced to divide whatthey found with the whole organization. It struck the boy as odd that somany of the gang members had started out on their own, and each musthave been thoroughly convinced that untold wealth lay at the end of this"rainbow" and they were eager to risk their lives in pushing their owndiscoveries to the limit. It was disquieting to realize that such anumber of small groups were viciously determined to fathom the Don'ssecrets and reap the benefits of the riches which rumor carried likewild fire among the outlaws.
Following the wiry Red, Caldwell marveled at the strength of the littleman who leaped briskly ahead as energetically as when they first enteredthe opening. Through his mind ran a series of plans for their escape butwith arms bound, ropes held by grimly determined gangsters who doubtlesshad guns ready to fire at the first false move, the situation appearedutterly hopeless. He, too, was beginning to feel fatigue, his feetseemed weighted with lead, and his head and lungs ached from the foulair. Occasionally he glanced back at Jim, who kept as close as possible,but they spoke no word as they went on and on. At last the journey wastelling on all of the men, for their panting breaths were coming inpainful sobs. Even Red faltered; twice he slipped and almost fell flat,but he managed to recover himself.
"Better let someone else take the lead," Lang proposed.
"Better stay where you are," Red snapped angrily. Nothing more was said,then the boys began to wonder if any of the gang would drop out fromexhaustion, but as far as they could tell, none had. Then one of thelights grew dim, and Red cursed.
"Change your battery." This was done, and soon they were going onswiftly, but there was a steep climb ahead. With difficulty it wasfinally negotiated, but it took nearly half an hour. At last they wereall on the top. The place looked as if it crossed, or followed a highledge, the wall which was moss grown formed one side, while the otherwas slanting, like a shed roof. Again they passed over a stream, but itwas a mighty dangerous undertaking, for great holes yawned beneath them,and Red managed to make it by hanging on to the vines above him.
"We can't catch hold," Jim protested.
"Go on." Mills gave them a boost, and after a struggle they were on theother side. Then the way descended again, and suddenly the air seemed toclear.
"Whew, this is better," Mills gasped, with relief, and they all paused amoment to inhale deeply.
"There's daylight," Red shouted a few minutes later, and with a bellowof joy, he sprang forward. His shout changed quickly to the snarl ofterror, and a shriek of abject fear. The Buddies saw his feet slip fromunder him on the log he was crossing. His arms shot up in a franticeffort to catch hold of something, then his body twisted and droppedfrom sight, leaving a great hole in the rotten tree. An agonized wailsplit the air, then all was silent.
"What's the matter," gasped Lang fearfully.
"Quit shovin', the thing's rotten as hell," Mills snarled and he threwhis weight against the men who were pressing forward. "Get more light."
Two more flashes were produced, illuminating the spot. It appeared as ifhalf of the great log which was suspended from great boulders, had givenway. The lights revealed a deep, narrow cavern, they could hear watergurgling as if it formed a passage for a small spring or stream, andafter fumbling with the light, Mills finally was able to locate thehuddled body of the red-headed man. Silently, and shivering, the groupstood for several minutes.
"I'm going back," Mills announced positively.
"Yes, come on." As if they were one man they turned about.
"Don't be quitters," Lang urged. "This air is better than back there andwe must be almost out."
"Yeh, well, I'm going back." The ropes which bound the Buddies were notforgotten, and in a minute they were retracing their steps, this timewith more lights than when they came forward. Although Lang argued thatthey were giving up when they had almost won, no one paid the slightestattention to him. They seemed to forget their earlier discomfort andwent swiftly until they reached the last stream.
Again they stopped suddenly. The woven bridge, or flooring had broken atthe edge and was dangling forty feet away. Mute with horror, the menstared paralyzed at the calamity.
"There's no way to get over," a gangster sobbed.
"Maybe we can chop our way through the roof," one suggested. He caughtthe side of the natural wall and hauled himself up, but when his axstruck the roof it rang against solid stone. Besides the stuff uponwhich the fellow was braced, gave way, and he slid back with a howl offear.
"That log wasn't all rotten," Lang declared. "Come on back and at leastwe can cut some of the vines, make it stronger and get out that way."
"Yeh, en get pitched down with Red--"
"If you can think of anything better, suppose you get busy," Langsnapped at him.
"All right, I'm comin."
"Let them kids do the leadin' this time," Mills proposed, and withoutfurther ado the Flying Buddies were turned about and forced to head themarch back.
"Give us a chance with our arms," Jim urged.
"Nothing doing, you go ahead. If you slip we'll haul you back."
They had to be content with this uncertain promise and in a moment thehard barrel of a gun was poked in Jim's ribs. Slowly they went ahead,and after what seemed like an eternity, they came again to the rottenlog. Lang himself wriggled forward, tested it with the back of his ax,then tearing loose a number of long vines, he straddled the dangerouspath, hauled himself forward with the vines, and after ten breathlessminutes, he dropped off at the other side and the men he had leftbehind, sighed with relief.
"It's solid over here," he called. Then Mills made the journey, but hedid not need to loosen the vines, so it took him less time, andpresently he was standing beside the leader. The Flying Buddies saw thetwo confer, and finally nod agreement.
"Leave them kids till next to the last," Mills ordered. Quickly thethird man made his way over, then the fourth, while the fifth stood withhis gun out ready to shoot if either of the boys moved.
"We can't make it with our arms tied," Jim protested.
"I don't care if you make it or not. Get on there--"
"Listen, if we don't make it, you don't, see," Bob spoke quietly.
"No. It's this way, if the log doesn't hold us or we have to kick itmuch to keep on, it's going to break good and plenty, and when itbreaks, it leaves you here, just like that, caught between the twotraps," he explained, and the fellow's face went white as a sheet.