Real Gold: A Story of Adventure

But still that blow did not fall, and it seemed to Cyril, as he stood there holding his breath, that the Indian who had struck at him so treacherously was waiting until he moved, so as to make sure before striking again. At last the painful tension came to an end, for suddenly, from just in front, there was a heavy sigh, and crop, crop, crop, followed by a burst of laughter from the boy.

“Oh, I say, Perry,” he cried, “what a game! Fancy being scared like that by a mule.”

“Then it was one of the mules?”

“Of course; we frightened the poor thing, and it kicked out at us. Come along.”

He bore off a little to one side, and they passed the browsing animal, and, though describing rather an irregular circle, made their way round the fire, getting back pretty exactly to the place from which they started.

This was repeated several times, and then, for a change, Cyril proposed that they should strike off a little, straight away from the camp.

Perry was willing, and they put their plan in operation, for no special reason other than that of seeing the ground was clear in different directions, and to relieve the monotony of the watch.

“You lead now,” said Cyril, in a low voice, so as not to disturb the others, who, in thorough confidence that a good watch would be kept, and that there was no fear of any danger, were sound asleep.

Perry led on, finding the way more open a short distance from the camp, but he had not led thirty yards when he stopped short.

“Hallo! another mule?” said Cyril.

“Indian!” said Perry huskily; and, as Cyril pressed forward to his companion’s side, there, hard to define, but plain at last, stood one of the Indians, who raised his arm and pointed back, uttering two or three words in a guttural tone.

“What does he say?”

“That we must go back to the fire. Perhaps we had better,” said Cyril. “I don’t like his being there, though. Look here,” he said quickly; “let’s make haste back, and go right out the other way.”

“What for?” said Perry, following his companion.

“I’ll tell you directly.”

Five minutes later they were checked just on the other side by another Indian who started up right in their path.

“Come and warn my father,” said Perry excitedly. “They’re going to attack us.”

“No; I think not,” replied Cyril decisively. “They’re sentries. Come and try another way.”

He led off again, after they had returned to the fire, finding that they were not followed, and that all was still; and again they were stopped by an Indian starting up and ordering them back.

“That’s it,” said Cyril quietly; “they’ve surrounded us with sentries.”

“To attack us?”

“No; to see that we don’t escape; and while we were walking round and round, they were within a few yards of us, listening to all our movements.”

“But they couldn’t have been there then, or they would have started up as they did just now.”

“No; we weren’t doing anything they minded; but as soon as we tried to go straight away, they stopped us. Let’s try once more.”

He led off quickly again, with the same result; and then Perry turned back to where his father lay asleep.

“What are you going to do?” whispered Cyril.

“Wake up my father, of course. We are attacked.”

“Don’t do that,” said Cyril decisively. “We are not attacked, or they would have seized us at once. I’m sure they are only guarding us, to make sure that we don’t try to escape. It’s of no use to wake him till the proper time.”

Perry hesitated.

“But we are in danger.”

“No; I don’t think we are. They are watching us, but they don’t mean to attack us, or they would do so. You’ll see now. We’ve come among them, and they’ll keep us under their eye, and perhaps will not let us go again. Look here: let’s go and speak to Diego.”

Perry was easily led, and yielding to his companion’s decisive manner, he followed to the fire and then round to the other side, where the Indian guide and his companion were squatted down with their chins resting upon their chests.

They made no sign as the boys came silently up, and appeared to be fast asleep; but Cyril knew better, for he saw in the dim glow shed by the fire, a slight tightening of the man’s hand upon his bow.

“They’re asleep,” whispered Perry. “Better come to my father.”

“Asleep with one eye open, and on the watch,” said Cyril quietly, and he bent down and whispered a few words.

They were electric in their effect, for both men raised their heads, and their eyes glittered in the faint light from the fire.

“Didn’t take much waking,” said Cyril, with a little laugh. Then turning to Diego, he said, in the man’s half-Spanish jargon:

“Why are the Indians on the watch all round here?”

The man looked at the speaker intently.

“Are the Indians watching all round?” he said quietly.

“You know they are. Why is it? To keep us from going away?”

The man looked at him intently, and then nodded his head.

“And suppose we try to go away, what then? Would they fight?”

“Yes,” said the guide gravely.

“And try to kill us?”

“Yes, they would kill you.”

“Try to, you mean.”

“No,” said the man gravely. “Kill you. You are few, they are many.”

“Stop a moment,” said Cyril, as the man turned his head aside wearily. “Will they try to kill us if we stay?”

“No.”

Cyril tried to get more information from the man, but he shook his head, and made a pretence of being so lazy and unable to comprehend the boy’s words, that Cyril gave up in disgust, and turned impatiently away.

“It’s of no good to-night,” he said. “We heard all that he is likely to know. Let’s walk round again.”

“But they may strike at us in the dark.”

“No, they will not do that. I’m not afraid. Let’s go through with our watching, till we think it’s midnight, and then wake up the colonel.”

“We’d better call him now.”

“No; if we did, it would only be giving a false alarm, when we know that there is no danger. Come along.”

The weaker mind yielded to the stronger, and the march round was begun again, one which required no little courage, knowing, as the boys did, that there must be quite a dozen Indians within striking distance, and every rustle they heard, made probably by one of the grazing mules, might be caused by an enemy creeping forward to strike a blow.

At last, when they felt that it must be getting toward midnight, Cyril proposed that they should go back close to where the colonel lay asleep, and they had not been standing near him ten minutes, hesitating to call him for fear he should be awakened too soon, when he suddenly made a hasty movement, opened his eyes, looked round, and sprang to his feet.

“Midnight, boys,” he said, “is it not?”

“We don’t know, father, and did not like to call you too soon.”

“Yes, it must be about midnight,” he said decisively, “or I should not have woke up. Well, is all right?”

“No, father,” whispered Perry.

“Oh yes; there’s nothing to mind,” said Cyril hastily. “We only found that there are a lot of Indians round about the camp.”

“You saw them?”

“Yes, sir. So soon as we moved a little way, a man rose up and stopped us.”

“On one side?” said the colonel.

“All round, sir.”

“On guard, then, in case we wished to escape. We’re prisoners, my lad, for the present. However, they will not venture to hurt us, unless we give them good reason, by loading up the mules to take away something they consider ought to be kept here, and that we shall not be ready to do for some days to come.”

“That’s what I wanted Perry to feel sir,” said Cyril, “but he would have it that they were going to attack us to-night.”

“There is no fear of that, my boy,” said the colonel firmly. “There, lie down, and sleep till breakfast-time; there is nothing to fear.”

“But are you going to watch alone, sir?”

“Yes, quite alone, my lad,” said the colonel, smiling. “There, take my place; I’m rested now, and you have nothing to mind. Don’t meet perils half-way; its bad enough when they come. Till they do, it is our duty to be patient and watch. Afterwards we must fight – if it is necessary. Now – to bed.”

The boys obeyed, and the colonel commenced his solitary watch.

Chapter Fifteen

Collecting the Gold

“Ever see ’em ketch eels at home, Master Cyril?” said John Manning one morning.

“We used to set night lines in the lake at school,” said Cyril. “We threw the bait out ever so far, and tied the other end to a brick sunk in the water.”

“Oh yes: but I don’t mean that way, where every twopenny eel spoils four pen’orth o’ good line and hooks. I mean with an eel-trap, one of those made of osiers, so that it’s very easy to get in, but very hard to get out.”

“Yes; I saw some of those once,” cried Perry, “up by a weir. But why? There are no eels here.”

John Manning chuckled, and shook all over, as if he enjoyed what he was saying.

“Not many, sir, but quite enough. We’re the eels, and we’ve wriggled ourselves right into a trap, and there’s no getting out again.”

“It doesn’t seem as if there were,” said Cyril thoughtfully; “but we’re getting what the colonel wanted, and I don’t think the Indians have noticed it yet.”

“’Tain’t for want of looking, sir,” said the old soldier. “I go for a bit of a walk in one direction, and begin picking something, and feel a tickling about the back. ‘Some one’s eyes on me,’ I says to myself, and I go a bit farther, and feel the same tickling in front. Then one side, then t’other, and it’s always eyes watching.”

“Yes,” said Perry. “We’ve been a week here, and I get so sick of it: I never move without there being some one after me; and the worst of it is, you don’t see him coming, but find him watching you from behind a rock, or out of a bush.”

“Yes,” said Cyril, “it isn’t nice. They crawl about like snakes, and almost as quietly.”

“Don’t matter,” said John Manning, with another chuckle. “We can be as cunning as they. How have you young gents got on since the colonel give his orders?”

“Pretty well,” said Cyril. “Of course it’s of no use to try and get roots or cuttings, they look too sharp after us; but I’ve found some seed, and he has got more than I have.”

“How much have you got, both of you together?” asked the old soldier, with his eyes twinkling.

“Nearly a handful, I should say,” replied Cyril.

“A handful, sir! Why, what’s that? I’ve got quite half a gallon.”

“You have?” cried Perry. “Father will be so pleased.”

“Course he will, sir,” said John Manning, with a self-satisfied smile. “‘Get every seed you can,’ he says, ‘and they’ll hardly notice you.’

“‘Right, sir,’ I says, and I set to work quietly, going a bit here, and a bit there, in among the trees, making believe I was making for them cocoa-nut leaves as the Indians chew; and whenever I caught one of the Injuns watching me, I picked a leaf, and began to chew it, and nodded at him, and said bono, bono. You should have seen how he grinned and showed his teeth at me, Master Cyril, and I could see he was thinking what a fool this Englishman was. But I wasn’t quite so stupid as he thought, eh?”

“But that’s not cocoa-nut leaf,” said Cyril, “but the leaf of the coca.”

“Well, sir, that’s what I say. I know it isn’t the nuts but the leaves they chew.”

“But the coca leaf’s a different thing.”

“Course it is, sir; one’s a leaf and t’other’s a nut.”

“But, don’t you see, cocoa-nut leaf and coca leaf are different things?”

“No, sir; but it don’t matter. They think I’m hunting for them leaves to chew, and they laugh at me, and all the time I’m getting a good heap of the seeds the colonel wants. ’Tain’t the first time he’s sent me to forage.”

“But where are the seeds?” said Cyril.

“All right, sir,” said John Manning, with a look full of cunning. “Never you put all your eggs in one basket, sir.”

“Of course not; but I hope you’ve put them in a dry place. Seeds are no use if they’re not kept dry.”

“They’re all right, sir. I’ve got some in each of my pockets, and some along with my cartridges in my satchel, and some inside the lining of my coat, and a lot more round my waist.”

“Round your waist?” cried Cyril. “You can’t wear seeds round your waist.”

John Manning chuckled once more.

“Can, if you put ’em in an old stocking first, sir,” he said. “But look here, young gents, as I’m so much more lucky than you are, and know better where to go for ’em, you’d better take part o’ mine, and leave me free to fill up again.”

“Yes, that will be best,” assented Perry. “I can take a lot in my pockets.”

“Any one looking, sir?”

“Very likely; but I shall take no notice. They won’t know what we’re changing from one pocket to the other, so let them watch.”

“All right, sir; then here goes,” said the old soldier, thrusting a hand deep down into his trousers pocket, and drawing out a quantity of seed. “Here you are, sir; and I’d make believe to eat a bit in case any one is watching.”

But as they were seated out of the sun, in the shade of the rough hut that had originally been put up for drying the kina bark, they were pretty well hidden from watchers, and able to carry on the transfer in comparative secrecy.

“But this isn’t seed of the cinchona tree,” cried Cyril excitedly.

“What!” said the old soldier sharply, and as if startled. Then altering his tone to one of easy confidence, with a dash of the supercilious. “Don’t you talk about what you can’t understand, sir. These here are what the colonel showed me, and told me to pick for him.”

“They’re not the same as my father told me to pick,” cried Perry.

“Well, seeing as you’re young gents, and I’m only a sarvant,” grumbled the man, “it ain’t for me to contradict, and I won’t; but I will say them’s the seeds the colonel told me to pick, and there they are, and you’d better put ’em away.”

“I’m not going to put these in my pocket,” said Cyril, “for I know they’re wrong.”

“And I certainly shan’t put them in mine,” said Perry.

“Look here, young gents, ain’t this a bit mutinous?” said John Manning. “Colonel’s orders were that we should collect them seeds, and if you’d got the best lot, I should have helped you; but as you haven’t got the best lot, and I have, ain’t it your duty to help me?”

“Yes; and so we should, if you hadn’t made a blunder.”

“But I ain’t, young gents; these here are right.”

“No,” said Perry. “These are right,” and he took a few seeds from his pocket.

“And these,” said Cyril, following his companion’s example.

“Not they,” cried John Manning warmly. “They ain’t a bit like mine.”

“No, not a bit,” said Cyril triumphantly.

“No, nor his ain’t like yours, Master Perry.”

The boys stared, for this was a new phase of the question, and they eagerly inspected the treasures.

“I’m sure I’m right,” said Perry confidently.

“And I’m sure I’m right,” cried Cyril.

John Manning put his arms round his knees, as he sat on the ground, and rocked himself to and fro, chuckling softly.

At that point the colonel came up, and looked round wonderingly.

“You’re just in time, father,” cried Perry. “Look at this seed John Manning has collected. – Show him, John.”

The old soldier triumphantly pulled out a handful, and held it under the colonel’s nose.

“What’s that?” said his master.

“The seed you told me to forage for, sir.”

“Absurd! There: throw it away.”

“Throw it away, sir?”

“Of course. It is not what I told you. There, take and throw it away, where the Indians see you do it, and they will pay less attention next time they see you collecting.”

John Manning said nothing then, but went out of the slight hut frowning, came back, and the colonel turned to the boys.

“Well,” he said, “what have you got?”

They both eagerly showed a little of the seed, and the colonel uttered an ejaculation full of impatience.

“No, no,” he said; “pray be careful. That is not the same as you got for me the day before yesterday.”

“Not mine?” cried Perry.

“No, sir; nor yours either, Cyril. They are both cinchona, but of the inferior, comparatively useless kinds.”

John Manning chuckled.

“But the seeds are so much alike, sir,” said Cyril.

“Yes, but the broken capsules with them are not, boy. The good splits down one way, the inferior the other. There, I suppose I must give you all another lesson. Come and have a walk at once.”

He led the way out, all taking their guns, in the hope of getting a little fresh provision, as well as to throw off the attention of the Indians, who smiled at them pleasantly enough, as they looked up from their tasks of cutting and peeling the bark from the trunks and branches, most of the men with their jaws working, as they chewed away at the coca leaf, which every one seemed to carry in a little pouch attached to the waist.

No one seemed to pay further heed to them, but they were soon conscious that they were being watched, for an Indian was visible, when they went past the spot where their two guides were watching the browsing mules; and then, as they plunged into the forest, from time to time there was an indication that they were being well guarded, and that any attempt at evasion would result in an alarm being spread at once.

Once well out among the trees, the colonel began picking leaf and flower indiscriminately, to take off the watcher’s attention; but he contrived, at the same time, to rivet the boys’ attention upon the flower and seed of the most valuable of the cinchona trees, indicating the colour of the blossom, and the peculiarities of the seed-vessels, till even John Manning declared himself perfect.

“Seeds only,” said the colonel. “I give up all thought of trying to take plants. We must depend upon the seeds alone, and we ought to get a good collection before we have done.”

“And then, father?” asked Perry.

“Then we go back as fast as we can, if – ”

“If what?” asked Perry.

“The Indians will let us depart.”

“That’s it, sir,” put in John Manning. “What I was saying to the young gentleman this morning. They don’t mean to let us go. We’ve regularly walked into a trap.”

There was silence for a few moments, the colonel frowning, as if resenting the interference of his servant, but directly after he said quietly:

“I’m afraid you are right, John Manning, but we must set our wits against theirs. In another week we shall have quite sufficient of the treasured seed to satisfy me – that is, if you three are more careful – then we must start back, before our stores begin to fail.”

“What about the guides, sir?” said Cyril. “They will not help us.”

“No,” said the colonel. “Not the Indian guides, but I have a little English guide here, upon which we shall have to depend. There must be other passes through the mountains, and we know that our course is due west. We shall have to trust to this.”

He held out a little pocket-compass as he spoke, and then, after they had added somewhat to the store of seed already collected, both boys this time making the proper selection of tree from which to gather the reproductive seeds, they walked slowly back toward the camp.

But not alone: the Indians who had followed them outward, returning slowly behind them, carefully keeping far in the background, and trying to conceal the fact that they were on the watch; but it was only too plain to all that it would require a great deal of ingenuity to escape notice and get a fair start when the time came for making their escape.

Chapter Sixteen

Preparing for Flight

“I say, Cil, I don’t quite know what to make of it,” said Perry, a few days later. “These people are as civil and amiable as can be; they surely won’t try to stop us when we want to go?”

“You wait and see,” was the reply. “They will. I know them better than you do.”

“But they don’t think we have got anything to take away.”

“Perhaps not; but they will think that as soon as we are out of their sight we shall be searching for and taking something away that they want to preserve, and if we do get away unseen, they will be after us directly.”

“Well, we shall soon see,” said Perry rather gloomily, as he sat gazing down into a deep valley running due south, in whose depths a bright gleam here and there told of the presence of water.

“Yes, we shall soon know now. Your father and John Manning have been carefully examining the mules, and going over the stores and packages.”

“Have they? I didn’t know.”

“I did, and then they came out here and sat for some time over their guns.”

“On the lookout for birds?”

“On the lookout to see if this way would do for us to escape.”

Perry whistled.

“Did they tell you so?”

“No; but I put that and that together.”

“Put why go this way? This does not lead over the mountains.”

“Because the Indians will not think we should choose this route.”

“But we couldn’t get over the mountains from down there.”

“We must,” said Cyril quietly.

“But,” said Perry, “we can’t get the mules and their loads away without Diego knowing.”

“Must again,” replied Cyril. “We can’t escape without a supply of food, and we must have the mules to carry it, for we may be weeks wandering about in the gorges of the mountains. So it’s must, must, must, my lad. We’ve got it to do, and we’re going to do it.”

“I say.”

“Well – what?”

“Do you think it will come to a fight?”

“Not if your father can help it; but if it does, we shall have to do some shooting.”

Perry drew his breath hard.

“Don’t stare down the valley any more,” said Cyril, after a pause.

“Why? It’s very beautiful.”

“Because you’re watched. We’re watched always, sleeping or waking.”

“Then we shall never be able to get away,” said Perry despondently.

“Must, my lad. Why, we’re not going to let a pack of half-savage Indians prove too clever for us. What are you thinking about? There, let’s get back at once, or they’ll be thinking we mean something by sitting here.”

Perry rose and followed his companion, who made several halts in the forest before they reached the shelter-hut, to find the colonel and John Manning away; but they returned soon after, each carrying a couple of good-sized birds, which gave a colour to their morning’s walk.

This game John Manning bore off to prepare by the fire which Diego and his companion kept going night and day; and as soon as he had gone, the colonel seated himself, and looked curiously from one boy to the other.

“Well Cyril,” he said sharply, “ready to go home and meet your father?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the boy promptly. “I want to get it over.”

“And you, Perry, ready to go back to where you can sleep in a decent bed again?”

“Yes, father,” replied Perry; but there was a dubious tone to his words.

“That’s right. Listen, then, both of you. I trust to you to make no sign whatever, but to go on precisely the same as usual, so as to keep the Indians in ignorance of our intentions.”

“Then you are going to make a start, sir?” said Cyril eagerly.

“All being well, very soon, my lad.”

“But the mules, sir?”

“Ah, we shall see about that,” said the colonel. “I have now got together quite as much of the seed as I dared to hope for, and it would be foolish to delay longer. These Indian labourers are only working for somebody of importance, and if whoever he may be comes and finds us here, our position may be made very unpleasant, so I have decided for us to start at dark, to-morrow evening.”

This announcement caused a peculiar fluttering in the breasts of both lads, for they felt that they would not be able to get away without a struggle, since that they were detained here until some one in authority arrived, seemed certain; and they well understood how necessary it was for them to get away if possible.

The rest of the day passed like a feverish dream to Cyril, whose thoughts were of a very mingled nature. On the one hand, there was the risk to be run in making their escape, and the long perilous journey before them; on the other hand, there was home at San Geronimo, and his father’s stern face rose before him, full of reproach for his conduct; and now, more than ever, he asked himself how he could have been so mad and so cruel to those who loved him, as to leave in the way he had.

Too late for repentance then, as he knew, and he had to face the inevitable, and take the punishment he deserved as patiently as he could.