Real Gold: A Story of Adventure

“Yes,” was whispered back, “these two hours.”

“Couldn’t you sleep?”

“No; not for thinking. It’s all very well for you, but I’ve got to hear what your father says this morning.”

This was unanswerable, and Perry remained silent for a few minutes, wondering what he had better say next.

Then the inspiration came.

“Look here, Cil,” he said; “you won’t get on any the better for having a painted and dirty face. I’ll get a bit of soap, and we’ll go down and have a good wash.”

“What’s the good?” said Cyril. “Dirty painted face goes best with things like this.”

“Yes, but you’re not going like this,” said Perry. “You must put on decent clothes.”

“Haven’t got any,” said Cyril sourly.

“No, but I have – two spare suits, and you shall have one.”

Cyril gave a start.

“I say, Per,” he whispered excitedly, “do you mean that?”

“Of course I do. My things will fit you, and you can have a regular rig-out.”

“Oh!” ejaculated Cyril. “Come on then, quick.”

They stole out of their corner to the baggage pile, where Perry pointed to the portmanteau containing his kit, signing to Cyril to take one end and help him to bear it a dozen yards away to where a huge mass of rock had fallen from above.

“Here we are,” cried Perry, dragging out one of the suits that had been made expressly for the journey. “They’ll fit you, I know.”

“Fit!” cried Cyril excitedly; “of course they will. Once get myself decent, I shan’t so much mind what the colonel says – I mean, I can bear it better. I did feel such a poor miserable wretch when he was talking to me in the night. It all seemed so easy just to dress like one of the Indians; but as soon as I was in that long shirt thing, with my bare legs and feet, I felt as if I’d suddenly turned into a savage, and daren’t look any one in the face.”

“And I don’t wonder at it,” growled a deep voice. “Here, what game’s this, young gents?”

The boys looked up to see that John Manning was peering over the rock, and they were so startled for a few moments that neither spoke.

“Going off again, and you with him, Master Perry? Well, you don’t do that while I’m here.”

“Don’t be so stupid, John,” cried Perry, recovering himself. “Can’t you see what we’re doing?”

“Yes, that’s what I can see, making of yourselves a little kit apiece, ready to desert, both of you.”

“Rubbish!” cried Perry. – “That’s all, isn’t it, Cyril?”

“Boots!” said Cyril dolefully; “but I don’t know how I am going to get them on.”

“Oh, a good bathing will do that. Here you are. – Now, John Manning, fasten this up again, and take it back.”

“Honour, Master Perry?”

“Honour what?”

“You’re not going to desert?”

“You go and light a good fire and get breakfast ready; we’re going down to have a bathe.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said the old soldier, chuckling. “Well, a bath would improve Master Cyril. Shall I bring you down a tin of hot water, gentlemen.”

“You be off, and hold your tongue. I don’t want my father to know until we get back.”

“All right, gentlemen,” said John Manning, grinning; “but I say, Master Cyril, there’ll be court-martial on you arter breakfast.”

“Come along, and don’t mind him,” whispered Perry, and they hurried down to the side of the torrent, where they had to spend some time before a suitable place was found where they could bathe without being washed away, for the water ran with tremendous force. But at length a safe spot was hit upon, where the stream eddied round and round; and here Perry’s tin of soap was brought into play with plenty of vigour, there being no temptation to prolong their stay in water which had come freshly down from the snow, and which turned their skins of a bluish scarlet by the time they were dressed.

“Shall I pitch this smock-frock thing into the stream?” said Perry, with a look of satisfaction at his companion.

“Throw it away? No. Perhaps your father will order me to keep it to wear, and make me give back your clothes.”

“I know my father better than that,” cried Perry warmly.

“But see how he went on at me last night, and how he’ll go on at me again to-day. I wish I hadn’t done it.”

“I’m glad you are come, Cil,” said Perry; “but it does seem a pity. Whatever made you do it?”

“I hardly know,” said the boy sadly. “I was so down in the dumps because I couldn’t come with you, and I did so long, for it seemed as if you were going to have all the fun, and I was to be left drudging away at home, where it was going to be as dull as dull without you. And then I got talking to Diego, and when he heard that I was not coming too, he said he should give it up. He wasn’t coming with three strangers, he said, for how did he know how people with plenty of guns and powder and shot would behave to him.”

“He said that?” cried Perry.

“Yes, and a lot more about it, and he wanted me to ask father again to let me come.”

“And did you?”

“No; where would have been the use? When father says a thing, he means it. Then Diego turned quite sulky, and I thought he was going to give up altogether. That was two days before you were going to start, and I begged him not to throw you over, and he said he wouldn’t if I came too; and when I told him my father wouldn’t let me, he said why not come without leave? And after a great deal of talking, in which he always had the best of me, because I wanted to do as he proposed, at last I said I would, and he got me the Indian dress and the bow and arrows.”

“And when did you start?”

“That same night, after they’d gone to bed at home. I’d got the things all ready, and I soon dressed and locked up the clothes I took off in a drawer they weren’t likely to look into, so that they might keep on expecting to see me back, thinking I’d gone out next morning early, and that would give me a start of all that night and all next day.”

“What a thing to do!” said Perry.

“Yes; wasn’t it? Didn’t seem so bad in the hurry and worry of getting off I didn’t think about anything but hurrying on after you, and then I got very tired and hot, and that kept me too from thinking about anything but catching up to you.”

“But how did you know the way?” said Perry.

“Oh, that was easy enough. Diego told me which road he should take, and I’d been along there before as far as the place where he said he would wait for me.”

“Yes, he said when you would come.”

“And when at last I was getting nearer to you, I began to lose heart altogether, and I’d eaten all the food I brought with me; and I’d had so little sleep, because I was obliged to overtake you before you started. If I had not – ”

He stopped short, and Perry stared at him.

“Go on,” he said at last. “If you hadn’t what?”

“If I hadn’t caught up to you, it would have been all over.”

“Nonsense! Why? You’d have gone back.”

“No. I’d been one whole day without anything to eat, and I couldn’t have got back, tired as I was, in less than four days. I should have lain down and died.”

“But you’d have met somebody,” said Perry.

“Up here? No. There’s a caravan of llamas comes down about twice a year, and now and then a traveller comes along, but very seldom. How many people did you meet?”

“Not one.”

“No, and you were not likely to. I knew this, and it made me keep on walking to overtake you, for it was my only chance.”

“But did you think about what a risky thing you were going to do before you started?”

“No,” said Cyril sadly; “all that came after, and there was no going back.”

“But what a way your father and mother must be in. What will they think?”

“Oh, don’t, don’t, don’t!” groaned Cyril. “Think I haven’t gone over it all, times enough? I never thought how much there was in it, or what trouble it would make till it was too late. Do you think I’d have come to be near you for a minute last night, if I’d known that the colonel was going to shoot at me?”

“Of course not.”

“And that’s the way with lots of things: one don’t think about them till it’s too late. Hush, here he comes.”

For while the boys were busy talking, they had climbed up the side of the valley, and come close up to the fire before they were aware of it.

“Humph!” ejaculated the colonel sternly. “So you’ve given up being a savage then, young fellow, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” said Cyril humbly.

“You’ll join us at breakfast, then, eh?”

“I don’t feel as if I could eat anything, thank you, sir.”

“No, I shouldn’t think you did; I don’t think I should have much of an appetite if I had behaved to my father and mother as you have behaved to yours. But there, you are my friend’s son, and I must be hospitable, I suppose. Come and have breakfast, and then the sooner you are off back, the better.”

Perry stared at his father so hard that the colonel noticed it.

“Well, boy,” he said, “what is it?”

“I was thinking about what you said, father.”

“About his going back? Well, what about it?”

“How is he to go all the way back by himself?”

“The same way as he came, sir, of course.”

“He couldn’t do it, father. His feet are sore, and he’d have to carry all the provisions he’d want on the way.”

“Provisions! To carry? Why, he hasn’t got any. – Have you, sir?” Cyril shook his head. “Then how do you expect to get back?”

“I don’t know,” said the boy sadly. “No!” thundered the colonel. “Of course you don’t know. Nice sort of a young scoundrel you’ve proved yourself. Scoundrel? No: lunatic. You can’t go on with us, because, out of respect for your father, I won’t have you; and you can’t go back alone, because you have no stores. What do you mean to do – lie down and die?”

“Perhaps I’d better,” said Cyril bitterly; “there seems to be nothing else I can do.”

“Well, don’t lie down and die anywhere near where I’m camping, sir, because it would be very unpleasant, and spoil my journey. What time do you start back, now you can go decently?”

“Now, sir,” said Cyril, and he turned sharply and took a step to go, but the colonel caught him by the shoulder.

“Come and have your breakfast first, sir. If you can behave badly to your father and mother, I cannot, by ill-treating their son. No nonsense: come and sit down, and I’m very glad to see that you are beginning to realise what a mad trick it is of which you have been guilty. – Ready, Manning?”

“Yes, sir,” came back from the fire, and a minute later they were all seated in silence, partaking of the hot coffee and fried bacon made ready for them by Manning, who gave Cyril a bit of a grin as he saw the change in his appearance.

The colonel ate heartily, but Perry’s appetite was very poor; and Cyril could hardly master a morsel, in spite of the colonel’s manner becoming less harsh.

“Come, boy,” he said, “eat. You’ve a long journey back, and you’d better make much of the provisions, now you have a chance. I’ll send your father a line in pencil for you to bear, and to exonerate me from causing him so much uneasiness. By the way, how many days do you think it will take you to get back?”

Cyril tried to answer indignantly, but the words seemed to stick in his throat; and Perry’s face grew red at what he considered to be his father’s harsh treatment of the lad whom he looked upon as his friend. There was a painful silence, then, for some minutes, during which the colonel went on with his breakfast, and Perry sat with his eyes dropped, unable to get any farther.

All at once, Cyril spoke out in a half-suffocated voice, as he looked up indignantly at the colonel. “Isn’t it too hard upon me, sir,” he cried, “to keep on punishing me like this? You know I cannot go back, or I should have gone long ago.”

“I want to punish you, sir, because I want to make you feel what a mad thing you have done, and how bitterly cruel you have been to a father who trusted in your honour as a gentleman, and a mother whose affection for you was without bounds.”

“But, don’t I know all that?” cried Cyril, springing up and speaking passionately now. “Hasn’t it been torturing me for days past; and wouldn’t I have gone back if I could, and owned how wrong I had been?”

“Only you had found that, when once you had foolishly put your foot on the slippery decline, you could not get back to the starting-point, and have gone on gliding down ever since,” said the colonel, speaking quietly. “Yes, my lad, I believe you have been bitterly sorry for your foolish escapade since you started, and you have been severely punished. There, I will say no more about it.”

“And you will help me to get back, sir?”

“If an opportunity occurs. As soon as we meet an Indian who can be trusted, you can take two of the mules, and a sufficiency of provisions to last till you get back. I am a man short now, or one of these should return with you at once. I am sorry for your people, but I cannot turn back now, and I’m sure your father would not ask it of me.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Cyril humbly.

“There,” cried the colonel, “I have done my duty by you, boy. You have had your punishment, and you have taken it bravely. I have no more to say, especially as you are not yet out of the wood, but have your father to meet.”

“Yes, sir, I have my father to meet,” said Cyril.

“Then, now eat your breakfast, and let’s get on again. Take off that miserable face, for I shall not refer to the trouble again.”

He held out his hand. Something very like a sob escaped from Cyril’s lips, as the boy made a quick snatch at his hand, and held it in his for a moment or two.

Then the breakfast went on in silence, and Perry’s appetite suddenly returned; while Cyril did not do so very badly after all.

Chapter Eight

Signs of Suspicion

Half an hour later, the little caravan was in motion, and, for the first time the preparations were delightfully easy. Eager to be of some service, and to try to make up for what he had done, Cyril began to help to load the mules, and above all, helped the colonel.

For the latter was trying hard to make the guide understand that he would like to pass through the patch of forest below them, before they ascended the mountain path visible away to their left; and the man stared at him in the most blank way possible, and then kept on pointing to a couple of great fagots which lay tightly bound upon one of the mules’ backs.

“It’s all right, sir; let me speak to him,” cried Cyril eagerly. “He thinks you keep on telling him you want wood for the next fire we make, and he says he has got plenty.” Then, turning to the guide, he rapidly said a few words in the rough dialect of Indian and Spanish, with the result that the man gave the colonel a sharp look, and then nodded his head, and went off with the leading mule.

Perry gave his father an eager look, and the colonel, who was smiling with satisfaction at the ease with which a difficulty had been smoothed away, frowned.

“Oh yes, it’s very nice,” he said; “but I cannot afford to have an intelligent interpreter on such terms as these, Master Perry. There, get on; I said I would not refer to the trouble any more. – Hi! Cyril, my lad, you’d better ride that black mule.”

“Ride – the mule, sir?” said the boy hesitatingly.

“Yes; your feet are cut and sore. Rest till they are better.”

“Hurrah!” whispered Perry. “Jump up, old chap. Here, I’ll give you a leg. I shall ride, too, to-day.”

The next minute, both boys were mounted, and following the last mule with the second Indian.

That patch of scrubby forest looked to be close at hand, but it took them nearly an hour to reach it, everything being on so grand a scale among the mountains; but at last they began to thread their way through, with the colonel eagerly examining the different trees, the Indians noting his actions curiously, but always hanging their heads again if they thought that they were observed.

The colonel kept up his examination, but did not seem very well satisfied; and soon after, the bushy trees with their shining green leaves were left behind, and they journeyed on through what had looked at a distance like fields of buttercups, but which proved to be a large tract covered with golden calceolaria, whose rounded turban-like flowers glistened in the sun. This looked the more beautiful from the abundance of grass, at which the mules sniffed carelessly, for they had passed the night eating.

Then before starting upward, there was the rapid stream to cross at a spot where the rocks had fallen in a perfect chaos from the mountain-side, completely filling up the chasm along which the water ran; and here they could hear it rushing, gurgling, and trickling down a hundred channels far below, in and out amongst the rugged masses of rock which dammed it back.

The mules made no difficulty about going over here, merely lowering their muzzles, and sniffing at the cracks and holes as they felt about with their forefeet, and climbed more than walked across to the solid rock and the bare, very faintly marked, stony track, which led up and up to a narrow gap in the mountains, evidently a pass.

Steeper and steeper grew the way, now zigzagging along a stiff slope, now making a bold dash at the mountain-side, over loose stones which went rolling down, setting others in motion till regular avalanches rolled down into the valley hundreds of feet beneath.

“Have you ever been here before, Cil?” said Perry, who now rode close behind his friend.

“No. Never any farther than the place where I overtook you.”

“Isn’t this very dangerous?” continued Perry, as the mules climbed up, sending the loose stones rattling down to their right.

“Eh? Dangerous? I don’t know. I was wondering what they are thinking at home. Yes, I suppose it is dangerous.”

“Then hadn’t we better get down and walk?”

“What for? We couldn’t walk up so well as the mules. They’ve got four legs to our two. They’re a deal more clever and sure-footed than we should be.”

Perry kept his seat, fully expecting to have the mule make a slip, and then for them to go rolling down hundreds of feet into the valley; but in due time the gap-like opening was reached, and through this place, with the walls on either side so steep that they looked an if they had been cut, they passed into a narrow valley, or rather chasm, looking as if the mountains had been split down to their roots by some earthquake; and a chill of horror ran through Perry, as he checked his mule where the rest were panting and recovering their breath.

“Not a very cheerful-looking place, boys,” said the colonel, as he surveyed the great chasm, running apparently for miles through the mountains, zigzagging, returning upon itself, and always dark and profound in its lower part; so deep, in fact, that from where they stood it might have gone right down to the centre of the earth, while upward the sides rose, wall-like, toward three huge peaks, which looked dazzlingly white.

All at once Perry started, and it seemed as if an electric shock had passed through the mules. For there was a tremendous booming roar some distance away, followed by peal after peal, as if of thunder running for miles amongst the mountains, and not dying away till quite a couple of minutes had elapsed.

“Thunder,” whispered Perry.

“No, I think not,” said Cyril below his breath. – “What was that, Diego?” he said in the man’s tongue.

The answer was laconic, and accompanied by a smile.

“He says some of the snow fell over yonder, out of sight.”

Crash!

There was another roar, followed by its echoes.

“Look! look!” cried Cyril excitedly. “There, just below that place where the sun shines on the ice.”

“Yes, I see it,” said Perry; “a waterfall.” And he shaded his eyes to gaze at the glittering appearance of a cascade pouring over a shelf of ice into the depths below.

“Waterfall!” said the colonel, smiling. “There is no water up there to fall. It is a cataract of pieces of ice and solidified snow, thousands of tons of it broken away through the weight and the mass being loosened by the heat of the sun.”

“Gone!” cried Cyril.

“To appear again, lower down,” said the colonel, and they watched the glittering curve of dazzling ice as it reappeared and made another leap, and again another and another, lower down, till it finally disappeared by falling into some chasm behind a fold of the mountain. But the roar of the ice was continued like distant thunder, telling how enormous the fall must have been, though dwarfed by the distance into a size that appeared trifling.

Then the boys sat gazing at the black gulf before them, with its huge walls, which were nearly perpendicular in places.

“I say, of course, we’re not going along that way?” said Perry nervously.

“I don’t know,” replied Cyril; “the tracks generally do go along the worst-looking places.”

“But how can they have been so stupid as to pick those?” said Perry petulantly.

“They don’t pick them,” replied Cyril. “Only they are obliged to go along any places there are. Yes, we shall have to go along yonder.”

“Impossible.”

“How would you go, then?” said Cyril. “We’re not flies; we can’t climb up those walls; and you couldn’t go over the mountains if you wished, because of the ice and snow. You must go in and out round them where the valleys are open, and this is open enough. There is no other way.”

“But, I say, shan’t you be – er – just a little afraid to go down there?”

“No,” said Cyril quietly. “I don’t feel afraid a bit. There’s only one thing I feel afraid of now.”

“What’s that? Falling off one of the precipices?”

“No,” said Cyril sadly. “Meeting my father.”

Perry was silent, and his friend turned to Diego, who was going from mule to mule, examining the knots in the hide ropes by which the baggage was secured to the pack-saddles.

“Which way does the road go now?” he asked.

The man pointed straight along the black chasm running from below them away into the distance.

“Along there?” whispered Perry, as he comprehended the gesture.

“Yes, I thought so,” said Cyril coolly. “There can be no other way.”

“But what else did he say?” asked Perry breathlessly.

“He said, did your father want to go on any more.”

“What’s that?” cried the colonel.

Cyril repeated the man’s remark.

“Tell him of course, till I wish him to stop.”

Cyril delivered the message, and the man spoke again, gesticulating and pointing along the deep valley.

“He says, sir, that there is no place farther on where you will get a bigger valley, and that there are plenty of snow-mountains farther back.”

The colonel made a gesture full of impatience.

“What does he mean, Cyril? Doesn’t he want to go any farther?”

“I think that’s it, sir. I’ll ask him what he means.”

Cyril turned to the guide again, and there was a short, eager conversation, carried on for a minute or so.

“He says, sir, that the way along the track is very dangerous. It goes along that side, to the left, and the path is very narrow. If any one slipped, he would fall right to the bottom.”

“It must be the regular way across the mountains, where mules are accustomed to go, and he undertook to guide me; so tell him I go on.”

Cyril conveyed the colonel’s words to the man, who looked annoyed, and glanced suspiciously at the colonel as he said a few words, to which the boy replied angrily.

“What’s that? what’s that?” cried the colonel.

Cyril hesitated.

“Speak out, sir; what is it? Why don’t you speak?”

“He said he wanted to know where you wanted to go, and what for?” said Cyril, watching the colonel rather anxiously.

“Tell him as far as I please, and where I please,” said the colonel sternly. “Now then, at once; and tell him I should advise him not to ask me any more questions. Forward!”

Cyril interpreted the words, and the Indian looked sharply at his employer, to see in his eyes the glances of a man accustomed to command, and without a word he took the rein of the leading mule, and went away to the left, seeming to Perry as if he were passing over the edge of a precipice, so suddenly the descent began, a dozen yards away.

But, as is often the case among the mountains, that which had looked so terrible at a little distance, last its dangerous aspect when boldly approached, for, following closely upon the luggage mules, Perry reached the edge of that which he had supposed to be a precipice, and found that it was only a slope, going downward; but it was quite steep enough to require great care in crossing it, and the mules showed their comprehension of the fact that it must not be attacked lightly, by the way in which they walked, slowly and carefully, making sure of every step they took, till they were well across the green slope, and on to solid rock once more.