THE SLEEPWALKER
Naturally, there was one subject above all others discussed that night
as the explorers ate their meal and later, when they lay about and
relaxed from the strain of the day.
But even more important than that was one that the captain had with
Don’s father, as he drew the latter a little apart from the group later
in the evening.
“How are things shaping, Richard?” asked the captain, laying his hand
on his brother’s arm with an affectionate gesture.
“I think I’m beginning to get matters in their true relations,” replied
Mr. Sturdy. “The discovery to-day has done a lot toward clearing things
up. I don’t recall a thing as yet about my voyage from Brazil to Egypt.
But I am beginning to remember some of the things that have occurred
since my reaching here. I can dimly recall the faces of some of the
workmen I employed. It’s still rather dreamlike, but it’s coming.”
“That’s great!” exclaimed the captain. “It won’t be long at this rate
before the last haziness will have vanished. But there is one thing
especially that I wish you would try to remember. It’s a thing on which
the lives of all of us may depend. How did you get in here?”
Richard Sturdy closed his eyes and tried to remember. But after a
prolonged effort, he opened his eyes and shook his head wearily.
“I can’t do it, Frank,” he said. “The sudden blending of the
recollections of Brazil with those of Egypt has left me confused on
some points. I don’t yet remember anything of what passed just before I
found myself on the bank of the stream.”
“Let me see if I can help you,” said his brother. “You heard Don
describe the way he got in, or rather fell into, this place. Did you
come in that way?”
Richard Sturdy shook his head.
“I’m sure I didn’t,” he answered. “I’d probably have some scratches and
bruises to show for it just as the boys have.”
“Don’t you recall the one rock balanced on the other where we came in?”
persisted the captain.
“All Greek to me,” was the reply.
“I see,” said the captain. “Now, Richard,” he went on solemnly, “the
lives of all of us are in your hands. Somewhere, somehow, you found an
entrance into this place. We’ve searched for it in vain. Our provisions
will last for only a short time longer. When they are gone we shall
starve. Try, Richard, try to remember. Concentrate your mind on it.
Make a supreme effort.”
“I will,” promised Richard Sturdy, deeply moved. “Oh, if my mind were
what it used to be! But I will make a desperate effort.”
“Good!” encouraged the captain. “In the meantime we’ll call it a day
and settle down to sleep, so that you can think undisturbed.”
A quiet word to the others and the talk subsided, and they stretched
out in slumber.
But Richard Sturdy lay awake far into the night cudgeling his brain in
vain, and it was only toward morning that he fell exhausted into a deep
sleep.
Just as the first faint streaks of dawn stole into the chamber Don was
awakened by the captain’s hand on his arm and the captain’s other hand
on his lips.
“S--sh!” whispered his uncle, as Don sat up in surprise.
Don followed the direction of his uncle’s eyes, and saw that his father
had risen, and was standing in a somewhat strained and unnatural
attitude.
Richard Sturdy stood for a moment and turned his face first to the
right and then to the left. Don caught a glimpse of his eyes, and saw
that they had an expressionless appearance, almost as though they were
made of glass.
Then his father started off with the stiff step of a soldier on parade,
down one of the passages that led off to the right. In an instant the
captain and Don were on their feet and following him on tiptoe.
On Richard Sturdy went, until Don could hear the faint falling of the
water that had been such a blessed boon to him the morning before.
His father followed the bank of the stream until he came to a place
where the little river seemed to lose itself through a narrow passage
into a small mound of earth.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Mr. Sturdy stepped into the stream,
bent down until his back was in almost a horizontal position, and
disappeared under the mound.
Don and the captain followed his example. Their faces almost touched
the water as they bent down, but there was still room for them to
breathe.
A moment later, they emerged into an apartment of about twenty feet in
length and width. At one side it sloped gently upward.
Richard Sturdy climbed the slope, bent over and pushed away a heavy
growth of bushes, and a rush of light and fresh morning air swept in
from the outside world.
Don leaped into the air and was about to give utterance to a delighted
whoop, but the captain clapped his hand over his mouth.
“Not a sound,” he whispered. “We mustn’t wake him.”
So Don, though in his glee he fairly ached to shout and dance, was
forced to restrain himself.
Richard Sturdy stood for a moment looking outside. Then, with the same
stiff, soldierly stride, he passed the silent watchers, retraced his
steps, and sank down in his former place with a deep drawn sigh.
Then and only then did the captain and Don dare to give vent to their
delight. They shook hands vigorously, their faces beaming. Then they
wakened the others, and after cautioning them about disturbing Mr.
Sturdy, imparted the joyous news that threw them all into a delirium of
rapture.
It was late when Don’s father awoke.
“No use, Frank,” he said sadly, as his eyes encountered those of the
captain. “I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t think of the way I got in
here.”
The captain took his hand.
“You’ve already shown us, Richard,” he said gently. “You thought about
it so intently last night that it came to you in your sleep and you led
us to it. We are saved, Richard, and you are our savior.”
Then he narrated briefly and simply the events of the night. Mr.
Sturdy was overwhelmed, though in his joy there was a tincture of
embarrassment.
Apart altogether from the value of his service, unconscious as it
was, the fact that he had saved the party was of immense benefit in
helping Don’s father to recover his mental balance. Knowing dimly
his infirmity, he had had a sense of dependence, of uselessness, of
inferiority, and had felt that he was more or less of a burden on the
others. He feared to look into the future. But the service he had
done them removed this feeling altogether, and from that time on his
progress was rapid.
They could now eat freely, not only of Mr. Sturdy’s provisions, but Don
and Teddy served for communication with Ismillah and Abdul, bringing in
supplies daily, though taking the utmost precautions to see that they
were not followed.
They were uneasy at learning, however, that though the servants had not
been molested in their hidden retreat, they had frequently seen a band
of Bedouins ranging the vicinity, headed by Tezra and Nepahak, both of
whom were known to Ismillah.
Don had recovered his own rifle, and on reporting the facts gained
from Ismillah, had been directed by the captain to bring plenty of
ammunition from their store and enough rifles to equip every member of
the party.
Nearly a week was required for the professor and Zeta Phalos, with
the assistance of the others, to catalogue the treasures of the tomb
for submission to the Egyptian Government. A great many of the most
portable of these were packed to carry along with them, as proofs of
their discovery.
On the night before they planned to leave, they were engaged in an
earnest conversation about their future movements when once again
the horrible shriek brought them to their feet and the dreadful
figure, more frightful, it seemed to them, than ever, seemed to move
threateningly toward them, its banshee wail arousing a thousand echoes.
The captain reached for his gun and fired, and the figure vanished.
“Come along!” called the captain, as he seized a torch and rushed in
that direction. “We’ll settle this thing right here and now!”
The others, all except Phalos, followed with torches and flashlights,
and found the captain standing on the brink of a chasm.
They looked over fearfully, and then the captain broke into a gale of
laughter.
“There’s your ghost!” he cried. “Look at him!” and he pointed to a
large platform made of reeds and covered with a white sheet on which
some phosphorescent substance had been daubed, hanging a little below
the brink of the chasm.
“And I winged him too with that shot,” the captain chuckled, as he
pointed to a broken hinge, the brightly gleaming shattered edge of
which showed that the break had been recent. “Come here, Phalos,” he
shouted, “and look at your ghost.”
The old Egyptian, reassured by the laughter, came forward and looked
rather sheepishly at the discredited “ghost.”
“Simplicity itself,” declared the professor, “and yet ingenious too.
There’s no doubt the thing was designed to frighten off intruders. You
see the thing is made of reeds, through which the wind plays, something
on the principle of an Æolian harp, only in this case they were so
arranged as to produce discords instead of harmonies. When the night
wind springs up, there’s a tremendous draught comes up this funnel-like
chasm, as you can tell by putting your hand over the edge. When an
unusually heavy gust comes, it sends this thing up into the air with
its phosphorescent sheet and other fixings.”
“But it will never fly up again,” cried the captain. “I’ve broken one
of its wings. Here goes the other.”
His rifle cracked and the remaining hinge snapped. There was a moment’s
fluttering, and then the whole hideous contraption sank out of sight
forever to the bottom of the abyss.
The next morning the explorers bade farewell to the Tombs of Golds,
and passed out into the open. It took them several hours to get out
their precious burdens, and several more to get them packed on the
extra camels they had brought along for pack purposes.
They were making their way down the rocks with the last consignment
when a squad of rough-looking riders, about a score in number, came in
sight from around a stony slope a quarter of a mile away.
“Down!” cried the captain, setting the example.
The others sought to obey, but, encumbered as they were by their
burdens, could not do it so quickly as to avoid detection.
That they had been seen was plain from the actions of the riders, who
pulled their mounts to a sudden halt, and two or three of whom, who
appeared to be the leaders, gathered in excited discussion.
Then, the conference at an end, the newcomers rode on slowly and came
to a pause at the foot of the slope where the explorers had chosen
their position behind the rocks, not more than two hundred feet away.
In the front, like birds of ill omen, rode Tezra and Nepahak.