Real Gold: A Story of Adventure

And now it was plain that the man had not exaggerated, for their path lay along what is known to geologists as a fault in the rock of which the side of the valley was composed – that is to say, the upper part of the huge mass appeared to have slipped sidewise, leaving four or five feet of the lower part of the valley wall like a shelf, and along this the mules began to walk cautiously, taking the greatest care that their loads did not touch the side of the rock, and consequently walking as close to the edge as possible.

The man had not exaggerated in the least. The shelf-like paths they had previously traversed were in places perilous enough, but here the bottom of the chasm-like valley was quite hidden from the travellers, and imagination added largely to the depth whenever either of the boys stole a glance downward.

No one spoke, but they rode on in single line, feeling appalled by the awful nature of the place, hour after hour, for the path wound and zigzagged, and seemed without end. At every slip of a mule’s hoof, at every kick against a loose stone, Cyril felt his pulses leap, and Perry turned cold with apprehension; while, whenever Cyril turned to look round at his friend, each saw in the other’s face a hard set look, and a strange, almost despairing stare in his eyes.

They were conscious of there being a rushing torrent somewhere far below, but it was down in the region of gloom, and they went on for hours without once catching even a gleam of the water, which at times sent up a dull thunderous roar, at others died away into a faint murmuring vibration, as if it were making for itself a subterranean channel through the bottom of the chasm. But little attention was paid to that, each of the travellers keeping his eyes fixed upon the narrow path in front, and rarely glancing up at the rocky wall on their left, or down into the profound gulf upon their right.

It was well on in the afternoon when, in turning an angle where the path shot off suddenly to their left, they came upon a wide opening lit up by the sun; but, saving that it was light, it was more repellent to the eye than the path along which they had come. For it was one wild chaos of tumbled-together rocks, looking as if, by some convulsion of nature, the whole of that portion of the valley side had been shattered and tumbled down from the shoulder of a huge mountain, destroying the pathway, and leaving in its place a broad stretch of masses of rocks, from pieces hundreds of tons in weight, to fragments not larger than a man’s head.

Progress across this appeared impossible, but the guide went on for a few minutes and then stopped; for rugged as the place was, it possessed the quality of being level enough to enable them to make a halt for refreshments, without being on a narrow shelf where there was not room for a mule to be turned.

Hideous as the place was, every face brightened, for the strain of feeling in great peril was for the time removed, and even the mules showed their satisfaction by whinnying to each other, and giving themselves a shake, as they began to sniff about and browse upon the dry vegetation which grew amongst the fallen stones.

“Hah!” ejaculated the colonel, as he got off his mule, and looked round and above at the pure blue sky. “One feels as if one could breathe and move now.”

“Yes,” said Perry, with a shudder; “it was horrible.”

“Nonsense, boy,” cried the colonel. “It was not a place one would select for a nice walk, but I should not have liked to miss such a journey. People at home do not know there are such wildly-grand places in the world – eh, Cyril?”

“No, sir,” replied the latter eagerly, for a pleasant word or two from the colonel was like a gleam of sunshine in his breast; “but it was dangerous. I should not have liked to get off my mule on that shelf.”

“Not on the precipice side, certainly,” said the colonel.

“Why, there wasn’t any room on the other,” cried Perry; “and if one had turned giddy, one would have gone down, down – ugh!”

“Yes, the place did look deep,” said the colonel, “but no one did turn giddy, and the mules went along as steadily as if they had been on a turnpike road. – Well, Manning, what’s the matter?”

“I was thinking about our having to go back along that there path, sir.”

“Well, I daresay we shall,” replied the colonel, “but you don’t mind.”

“Not mind, sir?” cried the old soldier gloomily.

“Not you, my man. I grant it is a little dangerous, but not so bad as walking along a shelf in the Nagari pass, with a Belooch behind every stone, taking aim at one with his long matchlock.”

John Manning grinned, took off his hat, and scratched his head.

“You did not complain about the danger then,” continued the colonel.

“No, sir, I didn’t, did I!” said the man, wrinkling up his face a little more; “and I ain’t going to grumble about this neither. I’ll go wherever you lead, colonel, like a soldier should.”

“Yes; I knew that when I chose you to come with us, Manning,” said the colonel quietly. “Well, what about dinner? We had better have it upon that flat-topped stone.”

“I shan’t be five minutes, sir; but I was hesitating about that stone. It’s just in the hot sunshine, and if there are any snakes about here, that seems a likely place.”

“Any snakes about here, Diego?” asked Cyril, and the man shook his head, and replied that it was too cold.

A few minutes later they were enjoying a hearty meal, and the mules were revelling in their freedom from their loads, while the two Indians sat munching their sun-dried strips of meat, and talking together in a low voice.

“All these stones and rocks tumbled down from above, I suppose, sir?” said Cyril, after a prolonged look upward at the peak which rose high above them, with its smooth sides glittering with snow, and a thin, white, gauzy cloud just hiding the extreme point.

“Yes, my lad,” said the colonel, shading his eyes, and looking up. “The snow hides the old scar, but I should say that during some eruption the whole side of the crater fell outward, and crumbled down to here, as you say.”

“Crater?” cried Cyril.

“Yes; don’t you see that it is a volcano?”

“I did not, sir. Then those clouds up there are smoke?”

“More likely steam.”

“Steam? Those clouds?” cried Perry, gazing up. “And is this a burning mountain?”

“Yes. You will be able to say you have been on the side of a volcano,” said the colonel quietly. “Look at all this broken stone about; how glistening a great deal is, as if it had been molten. That piece, too, looks like scoria.”

“Then hadn’t we better go on at once?” cried Perry, getting up from the stone on which he was seated.

“What for? Are you afraid of an eruption?” said the colonel, with a shade of contempt in his voice. – “Feel that stone where he was sitting, Cyril; perhaps it is warm.”

“Yes, it was quite warm when I sat down upon it,” said Perry hastily. “All the stones about here are nearly hot.”

“Of course they are, sir,” cried his father. “Have they not been baking in this hot sunshine? There, sit down and finish your dinner. Mountains don’t break out into eruption without giving some warning.”

“But this must have been quite lately, sir,” said Cyril, to turn the colonel’s fire.

“Geologically lately, my lad,” he said, picking up and examining a stone, “but not in our time, nor our grandfathers’. In all probability these stones came crumbling down some hundreds of years ago.”

“Then you think there is no fear of another eruption, father?”

“If I did think there was, do you think I should be sitting here so calmly?” replied the colonel.

Perry had nothing to say to this, and he soon after became interested in a conversation which took place between Cyril and the guide, waiting impatiently until it was at an end.

“What does he say?” asked Perry, as Cyril turned away.

“That as soon as we’ve passed this rough place there’s another path, like the one we’ve come by, and he wants to know if your father means to risk it.”

Perry felt a shrinking sensation, but he said nothing, knowing how determined his father was when he had set his mind upon a thing.

“I told him we were going, of course. But, I say, Perry,” whispered Cyril, “how far does he mean to go?”

Perry shook his head.

“Is it any use to ask him where he means to stop?” whispered Cyril.

“No; not a bit.”

“Hallo! Look here!” cried Cyril, and Perry snatched up his piece from where it lay.

“Look out, father!” he cried, as one by one, with solemn, slow stride, some half-dozen peculiar-looking, flat-backed, long-necked animals came into sight round an angle of the valley at the far side of the chaos of stones amongst which they had made their halt.

“Put down that gun. Don’t be stupid,” cried Cyril. “Can’t you see they are llamas?”

“What if they are? I suppose they are good to eat.”

“I shouldn’t like to try one,” cried Cyril, laughing.

The colonel had now caught sight of the animals, which kept on coming round the corner in regular file, with their long necks held up stiffly.

“Quite a caravan,” the colonel said. “Ask Diego what they are carrying.”

“I know, without asking, sir,” said Cyril eagerly. “They’re bringing down Quinquina – kina, as they call it. You know, sir – bark.”

“Hah!” ejaculated the colonel eagerly, and he took out the little double glass he carried to examine the train of animals, which had evidently come from the track that they were to pursue after their halt.

“You’re wrong, I think, my lad,” said the colonel, after a long examination through his glass. “They have all got bales of something on their backs, and, judging from the outside, I think they are skins or hides.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right,” cried Cyril, “but it is bark inside. They make the bark up into bales, and cover them with hides before binding them up. I know; I’ve seen them before.”

The colonel continued his inspection, and Cyril hurriedly questioned the guide before speaking to the former again.

“He says they are taking the kina down to the port, and that they will halt here to rest.”

“Then we’ll stay a little longer and see them,” said the colonel, closing his glass after seeing several armed men turn the corner and begin to climb beside the llamas over the rugged stones.

Chapter Nine

Cyril Scents Danger

As the men in charge of the llamas came in sight of the colonel and his party, they waited for more and more to join them, and it soon became plain that they expected or meditated an attack; but a peaceful message sent on by the colonel gave them confidence, and the swarthy men, for the most part armed, came on, followed now by their charge, till the great opening in the rock-wall was filled by the drove of rough, woolly-looking animals; there being over five hundred in the caravan, and each bearing about a hundredweight of the precious fever-averting bark.

Diego and Cyril’s powers were soon brought into requisition for interpreting; the strangers willingly stating where they were going, but proving themselves as eager to know the colonel’s business as he showed himself about the bark bales, before the mules were once more loaded, and the English party started again, so as to get to the end of the valley before dark.

The coming of the caravan had given the boys encouragement, for, as Cyril argued to Perry, the track could not be so very bad if that drove of animals bearing loads could come along it in safety.

“I don’t know about that,” replied Perry. “I had a good look at them. Short-legged, broad things like these, with soft spongy feet like camels, seem made for walking up here among the rocks; while the mules, with their long legs and hard hoofs, look as if they might slip and go over at any time.”

This was just after they had started, and found, as soon as they had cleared the rocky chaos, that the shelf path was so wide that the lads were able to ride abreast; and as the colonel had gone right in front with the guide, the boys began talking about the men with the llamas.

“Any one would think your father wanted to go into the kina trade,” said Cyril, who was rapidly recovering his spirits. “Did you notice how the Indian frowned when Diego kept on talking to him, and I asked all those questions for your father?”

“I thought he seemed impatient and tired, and as if he wanted to sit down and rest.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that,” said Cyril quietly; “it’s because they want to keep all about the bark trees very secret, so that no one else shall be able to grow it and supply it for sale. You heard my father say how the people who went in search of the trees never came back again. Father feels sure that they were murdered.”

“No; that was the people who went after the treasures.”

“Oh, was it? I forget. Perhaps it was both,” said Cyril. “My head got in such a muddle over my coming after you, that things are mixed. I suppose it was because Colonel Campion asked so much about the kina.”

“Father takes a great interest in everything; that’s why he travels and has come here,” said Perry. “Look, there goes a condor.”

“Well, let him go,” said Cyril. “He isn’t good to eat, and you’ve got plenty of provisions to last till you get to some village on the other side of the mountains. But, I say, it does seem strange that you people should come here of all places in the world.”

“I don’t see it,” replied Perry. “It’s a very wonderful place to come to, but I wish it wasn’t quite so dangerous. I keep feeling afraid of turning giddy.”

“Yes, it’s a wonderful place to come to, and I had no idea that the valleys were so awful and deep; but I should enjoy it if it wasn’t for thinking of them at home. I hope they believe I’ve come after you. Wish I’d left a line to say where I had gone.”

“It’s too late to wish that now,” said Perry.

“Yes, but one can’t help wishing it all the same. I wish I knew why your father has come up here.”

At that moment there was a warning shout from forward, and another from John Manning in the rear, for the boys had been so wrapped in their thoughts that they had not noticed how rapidly the path was narrowing. They had, however, another hint, and that was from Cyril’s mule, which, from long training on similar paths, knew exactly what to do, and went on ahead, while Perry’s stopped short on the narrowing shelf which followed all the windings and angles of the rocky wall, and had become so strait that Perry shrank from watching the laden mules, whose loads every now and then brushed against the stones, and one completely caught against a rough projection, making the intelligent animal that bore it stop and ease away a little, leaning more and more over the precipice till Perry’s hands turned cold and wet, and he held his breath. Just, though, as he was about to close his eyes, so as not to see the poor brute plunge headlong down to where it would certainly be dashed to pieces, the load escaped from the awkward corner, and the mule trudged on just as before, while Perry heard a deeply-drawn sigh just behind him.

“I thought he’d have gone, Master Perry,” said John Manning. “Mules ain’t got no nerves, that’s for certain, and if ever you hear any one say in the future as a donkey’s a stupid animal, you tell him he don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“That mule’s sensible enough, at all events,” said Perry, without venturing to turn his head, lest he should have to look down into the gulf.

“Sensible, sir? Why, he acted just as a human being would. I call it wonderful. I say, Master Perry, though.”

“Yes? But I wish you wouldn’t talk to me so, while we are going along a place like this.”

“Don’t say so, Master Perry, because I want to talk. It keeps one from feeling a bit skeary, because this is a place, sir, really.”

“Well, what do you want to say? Speak loud, for I can’t turn round to listen.”

“But if I speak loud, the colonel will hear me, sir, and I want to talk about him.”

“Well, go on then; what is it?”

“Can’t you tell me, sir, where we’re going to, and what we’re going for?”

“We’re going over the mountains, John.”

“Well, sir, I know that; but what are we going for?”

“To find the valley of diamonds, and throw down lumps of meat for the rocs to fetch out.”

“No, no, sir, that won’t do,” said John Manning, shaking his head. “As you said to me the other day, that’s only a story out of the ’Rabian Nights, and not real truth, though these places might just as well be something of the kind, from the looks of them. But, I say, sir, you do know where we’re going, and what for, don’t you?”

“No, I have not the slightest idea. Ask my father yourself.”

“What, sir! Me ask the colonel about the plan of his campaign? Why, I should as soon have thought of asking the Dook o’ Wellington.”

“We shall know in good time, I daresay,” said Perry; and then a slip on the part of one of the mules ahead made them turn cold once more.

But the clever animal recovered itself on the instant, and for hours they kept on along this path, till the boys despaired of reaching its end, and began to calculate on the possibility of having to encamp on a place like that for the night.

But it is a long lane that has no turning, and just when there was a sensible deepening of the gloom, and the peeps they had of the sky overhead were of a golden amber, they turned an angle and became aware of an increase in the murmuring sound of water, which thenceforth grew louder and louder, till it was evident that they were approaching some extensive fall.

An hour later they were in full sight of where it came thundering down hundreds of feet, spouting forth from a gap, and plunging down on to a huge buttress of rock, which shot it off again far into the air, distributing it so that it went on down into the valley like a misty rain, and without a sound arising from below.

The fall was magnificent, for, as they approached, the upper part was turned to gold by the setting sun, and to add to the beauty of the scene, there was a patch of forest on either side, and the narrow shelf was broadening out to where it ran into a side valley, all golden green and darkened shadow. For they had reached the end of the terrific gorge, and there were scores of places just in front ready for the formation of ideal camps, without the risk of an incautious step sending its unhappy author thousands of feet down into the depths below.

In another half-hour they were in a place which, by comparison with the sterile defile of darkness and depression, seemed to the lads beautiful in the extreme; and after a hearty meal, while the colonel was looking round the camp, as he called it, and having a farewell glance for the night at the mules, which were thoroughly enjoying the abundance of grass, Cyril sat looking very thoughtful and depressed.

“He’s thinking of home and his people,” said Perry to himself, and then, on the impulse of the moment:

“I say,” he cried, “why didn’t my father send you back along with the llama train? I never thought of that before.”

“Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?” said Cyril bitterly.

“No, of course not; but as he said he should send you home by the first, I thought it strange that he had not done so.”

“Because they were not going to San Geronimo,” said Cyril quietly. “They would turn off to the north, just where I first joined you, and I suppose he thought, after what I had suffered, it would be too cruel to send me to find a great deal of my way back with people like that.”

They relapsed into silence for a time, during which period John Manning cleared away and washed up as methodically as if he were at home, while the two Indians sat by the fire munching away at the supply of biscuit given to them.

“What are you thinking about, Perry?” said Cyril at last.

“The stars. How big and bright they are up here. What were you thinking about?”

“Diego, our guide.”

“What about him? – that he ought to be fonder of water, even if it is icily-cold?”

“No,” said Cyril seriously. “I want to know why he has turned so quiet and serious, and why he seems to be always watching your father in such a peculiar way.”

“Father was sharp with him, and ordered him to go on, when he seemed to want to go back.”

“Yes, and I suppose he did not quite like it; but that isn’t all.”

“What is all, then?” said Perry.

“Ah, that’s what I want to find out. He puzzles me. He’s thinking about something, and I shouldn’t wonder if he has taken it into his head that your father has come up here to look for the Incas’ treasures.”

“Pooh! Why should he think that?” returned Perry.

“Because these Indian chaps are horribly suspicious as well as superstitious. They would think it a horrible sin to touch the gold if there is any; and if it is found, they would be ready to defend it.”

“What with? Bows and arrows?” cried Perry, laughing.

“Yes, and blowpipes.”

“Why don’t you introduce pop-guns as well?”

“Because they are toys,” said Cyril seriously, “and blowpipes are not. Don’t you know the tiny darts they send out are poisoned, and that one will kill anything it hits?”

“Is that true?” said Perry, whose eyes dilated at the idea.

“Quite true. I saw a man kill several birds with the darts. They died almost directly they were struck, and I have been told by father that he has seen small animals die in a few minutes after being scratched.”

“But do you think – Oh, what nonsense! You have got your head crammed with that idea about the gold.”

“Perhaps so,” said Cyril thoughtfully, “and maybe I’m wrong. But I don’t like to see old Diego turn so gruff and distant, and it seemed strange for him to go and talk for a long time with the Indians in charge of the llamas. I saw them look very strangely and suspiciously at your father afterwards.”

“Those Indians? Why, what could it be to them? Ah, the Peruvian Indians are said to be joined together to protect everything belonging to the old days when they were a great nation, and keep it for the time when the Incas come back to rule over them again.”

“Say, Master Perry,” said John Manning in a low voice, “your eyes are younger than mine. Just cast ’em along the rock path we come to-day.”

“Yes, what for?”

“Are you looking straight along, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what do you see?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Try again, sir.”

Both Perry and Cyril looked along the path, tracing it faintly in the coming night for some distance along, beyond where the great fall came thundering down.

“I can’t see anything,” said Perry.

“Nor I,” said Cyril. “Yes, I can. There’s something that looks like shadows moving.”

“Steady, sir; don’t seem as if you were noticing it, but notice it all the same. It struck me as strange ten minutes ago, but I thought it was fancy. But you see it, sir, and it must be right. Now then, sir, what do you make that to be?”

“Indians,” said Cyril promptly.

“That’s right, sir – what I thought; and they’re watching us, and after no good.”

“What! Do you think they are hanging round the camp to try to steal?”

“Don’t know, sir,” said John Manning gruffly. “I hope that’s the worst.”

Chapter Ten

John Manning Thinks

John Manning’s curious remark sent a thrill through Cyril, and, trying hard not to appear as if watching, he strained his eyes in the direction indicated, but the gloom had increased, and neither he nor Perry could make out anything more.

“What do you mean by ‘you hope that’s the worst?’” said Perry.

“Well, sir, I hardly know how to tell you.”

“Speak out,” said Cyril rather huskily. “If you think there’s danger, tell us, so that we can tell the colonel, and put him on his guard.”

“Well, young gents, I did give him a hint once, but he nearly jumped down my throat,” said John Manning.

“What!” cried the boys in a breath.

“Well, sir, that’s what you clever folk call methy-physical. I told him I didn’t think the Indians was to be trusted, and that I fancied they were keeping an eye upon everything he did, and he insulted me, sir.”

“Nonsense, John,” said Perry. “My father wouldn’t insult you.”

“O’ course you stick up for your dad, Master Perry, as is quite right natural, and your duty to. But I put it to you, Master Cyril: he’s a soldier, and I’m a soldier, and if one soldier calls another a stoopid old woman, with no more pluck than a quill pen, isn’t that an insult?”