THE ARROW-MAKER
We were up and stirring early, and after a good breakfast and a draught
of cool water from a sparkling brook near by, we started again in search
of the valley of diamonds.
An hour’s swift run brought us to the slight depression in which stood
the great block of red granite we had so eagerly sought. There was no
mistaking it, as the German had said; curiously enough, it was the only
granite boulder we had seen in this country.
A long, horizontal spike of rock near the apex pointed unerringly into
the near-by forest, and I dismounted and walked from the boulder slowly
in the direction indicated by the guide.
Sure enough, on reaching the forest I found myself confronting a
gigantic mahogany tree, standing a little in advance of its fellows; so
with a shout of joy I beckoned to my comrades and waited for them to
join me. Duncan ran the automobile close up to the edge of the wood, and
then stopped the engines and closed the door of the dome so that we
could all take part in the discovery of the diamonds.
Entering the forest, which was quite open and clear at this one spot, we
had no difficulty in finding the dead stump, and then I fell upon my
knees and began to remove the thick moss that clung to the ground all
around the stump.
I was scarcely more excited than the others—if I may except the
princess, to whom treasure had no meaning. Moit, Nux and Bry were all
bending over me, while in the background the Indian maiden watched us
with a plaintive smile. To her this anxiety to secure a collection of
pebbles was not quite comprehensible.
At first the moss resisted my efforts. Then, as I moved farther around,
a great patch of the growth suddenly gave way to my grasp and disclosed
a large cavity between two prongs of the stump.
I leaned over to look. Then I thrust in my arm to make sure.
The cavity was empty.
“Try somewhere else!” cried Moit, hoarsely. He had risked a good deal
for the gems which were to enable him to become famous and wealthy, and
this disappointment was sufficient to fill his heart with despair, had
he not found another treasure in Ilalah which might somewhat mitigate
this baffling failure.
I worked all around the stump, digging up the moss with my knife and
finger-nails; but in every other place the ground was solid. There was
but this one vacant cavity, and when at last we knew the truth we stared
at each other in absolute dejection.
“He must have put them there, though,” I said, hopelessly. “The trouble
is that someone else has taken them away.”
“Oh, yes; I did it,” said a strange voice at our side.
I turned and found a tiny Indian standing near us. At first I thought it
was a child, but looking more closely perceived the lines of age on his
thin face and streaks of gray in his hair. Yet so small was his stature
that he was no taller than my breast.
He wore the ordinary San Blas tunic, striped with purple and yellow, a
narrow band of green showing between the two plebeian colors. When first
we saw him he had assumed a dignified pose and with folded arms was
looking upon us with a calm and thoughtful countenance.
“Greetings, Tcharn!” exclaimed the princess, in a pleased and kindly
tone.
The dwarf, or liliputian, or whatever he might be, advanced to her with
marked but somewhat timid respect and touched the fingers of his right
hand to the fair brow she bent toward him. Then he retreated a pace and
laid his hand upon his heart.
“My Princess is welcome to my forest,” he said in his native tongue.
“Is it near here, then, that you live, my Tcharn?” she enquired.
“Very near, my Princess.”
“But tell us,” I cried, unable to control myself longer, “did you find
many of the white pebbles in this cavity, and did you take them all
away?”
“Yes,” he answered readily, with a nod of his small head; “I found them
and I took them away, and they were many.”
“But why did you take them?” asked the girl, who, without knowing the
value to us of the stones, was able to sympathize with us in our bitter
disappointment.
Tcharn was thoughtful. He sat upon the stump and for a moment studied
the various faces turned toward him.
“Some time ago,” said he, “a white man came to this valley, which our
laws forbid the whites to enter. Perhaps he did not know that I rule the
forest which is my home—that I am the Master Workman of the Techla
nation. Why should he know that? But the white beast was well aware that
his race is by us hated and detested”—here he cast a sinister glance at
Duncan and myself—“and barred from our domain. He sneaked in like a
jackal, hiding himself by day while by night he prowled around upon all
fours, gathering from off the ground the pebbles which our master the
king has forbidden any man to see or to touch.
“Day after day I watched the white man at his unlawful toil. I sent
tidings to Nalig-Nad, the king, who laughed at the cowardly intruder,
and bade me continue to watch and to notify him if the beast tried to
escape.
“Finally he saw my face among the trees, and it frightened him. He
prepared to run away, and buried all the pebbles he had found under the
moss beside this stump. Then he slunk from the valley and I let him go;
for the king had been notified and would look after him.”
This relation proved to us the honesty of the German’s story. We knew
well the rest of the tragic tale, and were just then more deeply
interested in the loss of the diamonds.
“Why did you dig up the pebbles, when the commands of your king forbade
you to touch them?” I asked, in a bitter tone.
The little Indian gave me a scornful look and said to Ilalah:
“Must I answer the white child, my Princess?”
“It will please me to have you do so,” she answered. “I must tell you,
Tcharn, that these white people are my friends. Those who love me will
also befriend them, and treat them kindly.”
For a time the dwarf stood motionless, frowning and staring stolidly
upon the ground. Then he looked up and said:
“Does Nalig-Nad also love these whites?”
“He hates them, and seeks their destruction,” Ilalah replied.
The dwarf smiled.
“Then they will be destroyed,” he prophesied.
“Not so, my Tcharn,” replied the princess, gently. “The power of these
white chieftains is greater than the power of Nalig-Nad.”
Tcharn grew thoughtful again.
“I saw them approach in a moving house, that seemed alive and yet was
not,” he remarked.
“That is but one proof of their might,” said she.
“And is my Princess now opposed to her father the King?”
“Yes, Tcharn, in this one thing.”
“Then,” said he, “I will stand by your side, for my blood is the blood
of your dead mother, and not the blood of Nalig-Nad.”
“But the pebbles!” I cried, impatiently. “Tell us what you have done
with them.”
He turned his sombre eyes in my direction.
“I carried the pebbles to my own dwelling,” he returned. “They are
beautiful, and when the sun kisses them they borrow its light and glow
like fireflies at dusk. I love the pebbles; so I took them, and they are
mine.”
This was exasperating to a degree.
“You had no right to do that,” I protested. “Your king has forbidden you
to gather the pebbles.”
“I did not gather them; I but took them from the place where the white
jackal had placed them.”
“The king will punish you for keeping them!”
“The king? Ah, the king will not know. And we are opposed to the king
just now, the Princess Ilalah and myself,” with a queer smile. “But you
are strangers, and therefore you do not know that in my forest even
Nalig-Nad dare not molest the Master Workman.”
The last words were spoken confidently, and his prompt defiance of the
king pleased me.
“Who is this man, Ilalah?” asked Duncan.
“Tcharn is my mother’s cousin,” she replied, with frankness, “and in my
mother’s veins flowed the most royal blood of our great ancestors. For
this reason Tcharn is a person of consequence among my people. He is
called the Arrow-Maker, and forges all the arrow-heads that the Techlas
use. No one else is allowed to work in metals, which Tcharn brings from
the mountains. In this forest—I do not know exactly where—is his secret
work-shop and his dwelling place. Only one thing is forbidden him, under
penalty of torture and death: to gather or use the loathsome gold which
was at one time the curse of the Techlas. In all else Tcharn is master
of the forest, and the people honor and avoid him.”
An important individual, truly, and one who doubtless realized his own
importance. Since he had secured the diamonds and loved their beauty it
would be difficult to wrest them from him.
While the princess had spoken the little Techla had been regarding her
with an uneasy look.
“I see trouble in Ilalah’s path,” he now remarked gravely.
“Am I not the princess?” she asked, proudly.
“You are the princess, and one day you will succeed your father as ruler
of the Techlas—if you live. If you do not live, Nalig-Nad’s children by
another mother will succeed him. Will you live, Ilalah—you who defy the
traditional hatred of your race for the cursed white people?”
Ilalah flushed a little, but not with fear. She wanted Tcharn to
understand her, though, and began to tell him how the white people had
for many ages dominated the world beyond the seas, where they had many
distinct nations that warred with each other. Some of the white nations
were strong, and just, and wise; others were strong, but wicked and
unjust. It was one of these latter nations, she explained, whose people
were known as Spaniards, that had invaded the country of her forefathers
and robbed and oppressed them; therefore the Techlas, knowing no better,
had hated all of the white nations instead of that especial one that had
wronged them.
“These friends,” she added, pointing to us, “have never injured us, nor
have their people, who have themselves warred with the Spaniards, our
old and hated enemies. Why then, should I condemn and hate the
innocent?”
The dwarf listened carefully to this explanation, and without answering
her appeal he said, in a doubtful tone:
“The chiefs who rule the islands and the coast, all of whom trade with
the whites, have told me they are all alike. They are never satisfied,
but always want something that belongs to others.”
I laughed at his shrewd observation, for that was our case, just then.
We wanted the diamonds.
“Will you not permit us to see the beautiful pebbles?” I asked.
Tcharn hesitated.
“Will you let me see your moving house?” he demanded.
I nearly yelled with delight. I had been searching my brain for some way
to win this strange personage to our side, and he promptly put himself
in our hands by acknowledging his curiosity concerning our machine. But
this proved his intelligence, too, and betrayed his mechanical instinct,
so that it increased our respect for him.
“We will explain to you our moving house, which is the most wonderful
thing ever made by the hands of man,” I answered, seriously, “and we
will also take you to ride in it, that you may know how and why it
moves. But in return you must take us to your dwelling and show us the
pebbles.”
I was rather surprised that he consented readily.
“It is a bargain,” said he, quietly, and Ilalah whispered that his word
might be depended upon.
So we all walked out of the forest to where we had left the car, which
Tcharn first examined from the outside with minute intentness.
“Here is a man who might steal my patents, if he lived in our world,”
remarked the inventor, with a smile. But as there was no danger to be
apprehended Moit took pains to explain to the dwarf how the machine
would float and move in the water as well as travel upon the land, and
then he took the little Indian inside and showed him all the complicated
mechanism and the arrangements for promoting the comfort and convenience
of the passengers.
Tcharn listened with absorbed interest, and if he failed to comprehend
some of the technical terms—which is very probable, as I was obliged to
translate most of the description and there were no words in the native
language to express mechanical terms—he allowed neither word nor look to
indicate the fact.
Afterward Moit started the car and gave the arrow-maker an impressive
ride around the valley, gradually increasing the speed until we very
nearly flew over the ground.
When, at last, we came to a halt at the forest’s edge, it was evident we
had won the dwarf completely. His face was full of animation and
delight, and he proceeded to touch each of our foreheads, and then his
own heart, to indicate that we were henceforth friends.
“We will ride into the forest,” he said. “I will show you the way.”
It suited us very well to hide the machine among the trees, for we might
expect the natives to search for us and give us further annoyance. But
we failed to understand how the big machine might be guided into the
tangled forest.
Tcharn, however, knew intimately every tree and shrub. He directed Moit
to a place where we passed between two giant mahoganies, after which a
sharp turn disclosed an avenue which led in devious windings quite a
distance into the wood. Sometimes we barely grazed a tree-trunk on
either side, or tore away a mass of clinging vines or dodged, by a
hair’s breadth, a jagged stump; and, after all, our journey was not a
great way from the edge of the forest and we were soon compelled to halt
for lack of a roadway.
“The rest of the distance we will walk,” announced the dwarf. “Follow
me, if you will.”
I shall never forget the impressiveness of this magnificent forest. The
world and its glaring sunlight were shut out. Around our feet was a rank
growth of matted vines, delicate ferns and splendid mosses. We stood in
shadow-land, a kingdom of mystery and silence. The foliage was of such
dainty tracery that only in the deep seas can its equal be found, and
wonderful butterflies winged their way between the tender plants,
looking like dim ghosts of their gorgeous fellows in the outer world.
Here was a vast colonnade, the straight, slender, gray tree-trunks
supporting a massive roof of green whose outer branches alone greeted
the sun. Festooned from the upright columns were tangled draperies of
climbing vines which here rested in deep shadow and there glowed with a
stray beam of brilliant sunshine that slyly crept through the roof. And
ever, as we pressed on, new beauties and transformations were disclosed
in the forest’s mysterious depths, until the conviction that here must
be the favorite retreat of elfins and fays was dreamily impressed upon
our awed minds.
But almost before we were aware of it we came to a clearing, a circular
place in the wood where great trees shot their branches into the sky and
struggled to bridge the intervening space with their foliage. The vain
attempt left a patch of clear sky visible, although the entire enclosure
was more than half roofed with leaves.
Instead of mosses and vines, a grassy sward carpeted the place, and now
we came upon visible evidence that we had reached the abode of the
little arrow-maker.
On one side was a rude forge, built of clay, and supporting a bellows.
In a basket beside the forge were hundreds of arrow-points most cleverly
fashioned of bronze, while heaps of fagots and bars of metal showed that
the dwarf’s daily occupation was seldom neglected.
The tools strewn about interested me greatly, for many were evidently of
American or European make; but Tcharn explained this by saying that his
people often traded their cocoanuts and skins for tools and cutlery, and
at these times he was allowed to select from the store such things as he
required.
“But where do you live?” asked Moit; “and where are the pebbles?”
“Come,” said the arrow-maker, briefly, and led us across the glade and
through a little avenue where there was a well trodden path.
A moment later a mass of interwoven boughs covered with vines confronted
us, and stooping our heads we passed through a low archway into
wonderland.