GORUBA IS CAUGHT
On the morning after his discovery of Rabeh's hoard, Royce made a
second visit to the cave to search for the exit which he felt sure
must lead to the outer air.
Carrying a lighted candle, he walked slowly round the walls,
examining them carefully. They appeared to be in their natural
state--rough, irregular, knobby, but with no hole or gap large enough
to admit a man.
Then he tried the floor. It consisted of slabs of stone. He tapped
them here and there, but they gave no hollow ring; apparently they
were solid. The ivory tusks were ranged in such orderly rows that it
seemed hardly likely the entrance was beneath them.
Puzzling over what to do next, he suddenly thought of testing the
place with the candle flame. If there were an opening, there must be
a current of air. He returned to the slab in the wall of the well
and closed it as tightly as was possible from the inside; then placed
the candle at several spots on the floor of the cave, one after
another, and, retiring to a distance, watched the flame for signs of
flickering.
But he had no success; the flame only flickered in the current caused
by his own movements.
"Where can the entrance be?" he said to himself. "The air is stuffy,
but not foul. I'll try the passage."
He tapped the wall on each side; no sound rewarded him. Then he
placed the candle on the floor near the threshold of the cave, and
ejaculated "Got it!" when he saw the flame flicker gently. Hastening
to the spot, he knelt down and passed his hand slowly over the slabs,
and felt a distinct though slight draught at the seam between two of
them.
He pushed at each of the slabs. They did not move. He got up, and
jumped on them as forcibly as the low roof allowed, still without
effect. Then, lifting the candle, he examined the walls.
At his left hand, near the roof, was a single staple, like those in
the wall of the well. It could not be intended for climbing--what,
then, was the use of it? Standing under it, he grasped it and
pulled. It did not yield. Then he pushed, more and more forcibly.
The staple did not move, but he fancied that the slab on which he was
standing sank a little.
Looking down, he saw, just below the floor, a narrow jutting ledge of
rock. With his left foot on this, he pushed at the slab with his
right, still shoving at the staple with his hand. The stone began to
revolve, slowly, with a slight grinding sound. Presently it stood
upright in the middle of the passage, and moved no more.
Royce now saw beneath him half a dozen steep steps leading down into
gloom. He descended carefully, lighting his way with the candle, and
found himself in a passage, narrower than the upper one, but much
cooler and less stuffy. From the direction of the cave there was a
steady draught.
Moving against it, Royce, after about fifty paces, caught sight of a
glint of light ahead. He pressed on eagerly, and discovered that the
passage ended in an opening roughly circular in shape, about a yard
in diameter. Passing on, he came out into a tangle of brushwood
through which he saw trees. He forced his way forward, and stood in
a clump of woodland. There was nobody to be seen, no sound. He
stole cautiously among the trees until he came to the edge of the
clump. It looked over open country. Glancing round, taking care to
keep hidden from observation, he saw at last the fort, on the hill
about two hundred yards away.
"This must be the clump we noticed," he thought. "Now I understand
why Goruba has not used it for cover in attacking us. He doesn't
want any of his men to discover the secret entrance to his hoard. Of
course, with the slab down they couldn't find the hoard itself, but
evidently he doesn't mean to be bothered with inconvenient questions.
Well, Mr. Goruba, I have caught you out. I only wish I could catch
_you_."
Royce made his way back quickly, feeling that he was perhaps risking
a good deal in leaving the men so long. He carefully replaced the
two slabs, ascended the wall of the well, much to Kulana's relief,
and, having assured himself that the garrison were at their posts and
that the enemy had made no move, he sat down to devise a trap for
Goruba.
"I suppose the fellow will come again," he thought. "Why does he
come at all? A visit to the cave and no farther would prove that his
treasure is safe. I suppose his idea in penetrating right into the
fort is to spy, perhaps to frighten the men into deserting me. I
mean to stop your little game, my man."
His first notion was to place a couple of sentries in the cave, to
catch Goruba on his next appearance. In the darkness the giant would
not see them. But he soon gave that up. It would probably be better
not to let the men know anything about the cave for the present.
Besides, he could not tell when Goruba would pay his next visit, and
the superstitious negroes would never endure a long wait in the dark.
After long puzzling, Royce hit on a plan that seemed likely to be
successful. He attached a thin cord to the slab in the well, at a
point where it would not be seen in the semi-darkness by any one
entering from the passage.
Carrying the cord round the well, he passed it through hooks of his
own devising--nails driven into the brickwork and bent almost double.
At the top he fastened similar hooks to the wall of the well-yard,
near the floor, drew the cord through them, and finally tied it to
the topmost of a short column of empty meat tins in his own room.
When this was done, he went down to the well again, turned the slab
gently on its axis, and in a moment or two heard a slight clatter as
the tins were overturned.
"I call that a stroke of genius," he said to himself. "The question
is, will the sound scare Goruba away? He is bound to hear it, though
it is not so loud as I expected. But, after all, there is nothing to
make him connect the sound with his own movements, so I fancy there
will be a little surprise in store for him."
At dusk that evening he sat in his room, watching the pile of tins,
and waiting eagerly for the alarm signal. But it did not come. All
night he remained awake, unable to sleep from excitement. Not a
sound broke the stillness.
Next evening he took up his post at the same time. Tired and sleepy,
he was just falling into a doze when the tins fell with a crash that
made him jump.
Pulling off his boots, he slipped very quietly into the well-yard and
stooped below the top of the wall. He knew that he was in plenty of
time, for the intruder was sure to move slowly and with caution.
With his electric torch in his left hand and his revolver in his
right, he passed round to the side of the well opposite to where the
staples were placed. In a few seconds he heard a slight rustle; the
man was climbing over the coping of the well. He saw his form, a
huge black shape against the dark blue sky.
The man stood listening for a moment, then crept towards the doorway
leading to Royce's quarters. Royce stole on tiptoe after him, and
just as he reached the opening pressed the button of the torch. The
negro turned instantly, and the bright ray from the torch flashed
upon the startled eyes of Goruba.
Royce had expected astonishment, even dismay. He was not prepared
for the extraordinary readiness, decision, presence of mind with
which the negro would act. Without an instant's hesitation, Goruba
sprang at him with uplifted knife. Royce fired, but either he missed
or there was no stopping power in the bullet, for in another fraction
of a second he was hurled back towards the well, narrowly escaping
toppling over the coping into its depths.
But if Royce missed, so did Goruba, dazzled, perhaps, by the light of
his torch. His knife crashed on the coping, and was shivered to
pieces. Next moment Royce found himself for the second time locked
in the giant's embrace.
Exerting all his strength, he strove to prevent the negro from
hurling him into the well. He shouted. Answering shouts came from
the men. And then he discovered, to his surprise, that Goruba was
not so formidable an antagonist as when they had first met. His grip
was not so firm; all the pressure came from his left arm.
Encouraged by this, Royce grappled him closely, tried a back-throw he
had learnt in jiu-jitsu, and had Goruba on his back as the Hausas,
headed by Kulana, came shouting into the yard.
Royce was only just in time to prevent them from plunging their
knives into the struggling negro. At his order, they tied him up
with cords, so tightly that he howled with pain.
"Loosen them!" cried Royce. "Don't hurt him."
Kulana stared.
"Him hurt massa," he protested. "Him fit for kill all same."
"No; that's not our way," said Royce firmly. "We've got him, and
we'll keep him safe. I hope this is the end of our troubles."
The Hausas, grumbling sullenly, carried Goruba into the passage next
to Royce's room, and laid him against the wall. It was then found
that his right wrist was sprained.
"He must have struck it against the wall when he missed me and
smashed his knife," thought Royce. "That accounts for his feebler
grip."
To the further disgust of his men, he bound a wet rag tightly round
Goruba's wrist.
"Now for a good night's rest for once," he thought. "We shall not be
attacked to-night, at any rate."