On the second day after the dispatch of Yupanqui to the surveyors' camp,
he had duly returned with a curt officially worded note from Butler
acknowledging the receipt of Escombe's "report" of his accident and its
result, and requesting the latter to rejoin the survey party with the
least possible delay, "as his absence was the cause of much
inconvenience and delay in the progress of the survey". Not a word of
regret at the occurrence of the accident, much less anything that could
be construed into an admission that the writer's own unreasonable
demands and orders were the cause of the mishap; and not even a word of
congratulation at Escombe's narrow escape from a terrible death; simply
a formal request that he would rejoin, "with the least possible delay",
for a certain good and sufficient reason. Poor Harry shrugged his
shoulders with something very like contempt for the hidebound creature
who was, to a great extent, the master of his fate, and who seemed to be
absolutely destitute of the very smallest shred of good feeling. He
felt that it would be quite hopeless to look for any praise or
appreciation from such a man; he foresaw that the fellow would
appropriate to himself whatever credit might result from the expedition,
and lay upon his (Harry's) shoulders the onus of any shortcomings of
complete success. And he came to the conclusion that since such a chief
was not worth putting oneself out for, he would remain where he was
until it was quite certain that he could travel with perfect safety, and
resume duty immediately upon his return to camp. But he was young, and
possessed a thoroughly sound constitution; moreover, he had miraculously
escaped with unbroken bones, his recovery therefore was rapid, and on
the nineteenth day after the accident he rejoined the camp and formally
reported himself as prepared to resume duty.
It had been Butler's custom, from the commencement of the survey, to
flag out a certain length of route daily, and to insist--without very
much regard to the difficulties of the task--that that amount of work
should be done by nightfall. This length of route usually amounted to
from two to three miles, and Escombe had once or twice protested--when
the natural difficulties of the work were excessive--that he could not
undertake to guarantee the accuracy of his work if so much were demanded
of him; to which Butler had retorted that, in his opinion, the amount of
work demanded was exceedingly moderate, that he should expect it to be
done, and that he should hold Escombe responsible for all inaccuracies.
Yet, upon Escombe's return to camp he found that, during the nineteen
days of his absence, Butler had advanced the survey by a distance of
less than four miles! the explanation which the elder man condescended
to make being that, during the four days immediately following the
accident, no survey work at all had been done, the whole body of peons
having been scattered in various directions, seeking some clue to
Harry's fate.
For a week or two after Escombe's return to camp matters went very much
more smoothly. Whether it was that Harry's accident had given Butler a
wholesome fright, or that the conviction had been forced upon the latter
that he had been outrageously exacting, there was nothing to show, but
certain it was that, for a while, Escombe was allowed to take his own
time over his work and do it his own way, with the result that while
this state of affairs lasted the lad actually took pleasure in, nay,
thoroughly enjoyed, his work. But on the third week after his return
Harry began to detect signs that these agreeable conditions were drawing
to an end. Thenceforth Butler allowed himself to gradually drift back
into his former exacting and autocratic ways, until at length life in
the camp again became a veritable purgatory for everybody concerned,
Butler himself included, the natural result of his tyrannical conduct
being that everybody--Harry excepted--did everything in his power to
thwart him, while even the lad himself ceased to attempt the apparently
impossible task of pleasing his chief.
In this unpleasant and unsatisfactory manner the railway survey
proceeded for the two months following Escombe's return to duty; by
which time Butler's behaviour had become so unendurable that nearly
three-fourths of the peons originally engaged had deserted,
notwithstanding the fact that their desertion involved them in the loss
of a sum in wages that, to these humble toilers, represented quite a
little fortune, and their places had been filled by others of a much
less desirable type in every way. And this was all the more to be
regretted since the surveyors were now in the very heart of the
mountains, where the natural difficulties to be contended with were at
their worst, while the newcomers, being of course utterly strange to
such work, had to be taught their duties, down to the simplest detail,
under the most adverse conditions possible. It can be readily
understood that the attempt to instruct a set of ignorant, stupid,
sullen, and lawless half-castes under such conditions was a task of
surpassing difficulty, resulting in constant acute friction, and
demanding the nicest judgment and the utmost diplomacy upon the part of
the teachers. Harry met this difficulty by bringing to his assistance
an almost sublime patience, that in the course of time--and not a very
long time either--completely wore down the opposition of his unwilling
pupils and brought a change in their mental attitude which was as
surprising as it was satisfactory. Butler, however, knew not the
meaning of the word "patience", nor did his character contain the
smallest particle of that valuable quality; his method was what he
termed "the rough-and-ready", and consisted in emphasising every order,
and item of construction, with a kick! It was not surprising,
therefore, that the relations between him and the peons daily grew more
strained.
It was when the tension between Butler on the one hand and the peons on
the other had developed to such an extent that the labourers had been
goaded into a state of almost open mutiny, that the former set out as
usual, on horseback, one morning, accompanied by a half-dozen of the new
hands, to seek for and stake out a few miles farther of practicable
route. Such a duty as this he usually contrived to complete in time to
return to the camp for lunch, after which he was wont to saunter out
along the line until he encountered Harry, when he would spend the
remainder of the day in making the poor lad's life a burden to him by
finding fault with everything he did, frequently insisting upon having
some particularly awkward and difficult piece of work done over again.
Consequently the progress of the survey was abnormally and
exasperatingly slow; and when, upon the day in question, Butler failed
to put in an appearance on the scene of operations, young Escombe's
first feeling was one of gratification, for he was just then engaged
upon an exceptionally difficult task which he was most anxious to
complete without being interfered with. So absorbed was the lad in his
work that he had not much thought to spare for speculation as to the
reason for so unusual a piece of good luck, although it is true that, as
the afternoon wore on, he did once or twice permit himself to wonder
whether "perchance" he had to thank a slight touch of indisposition, or
possibly a sprained ankle, for this unexpected and most welcome freedom
from interruption. But when at length, upon his arrival in camp at the
conclusion of his day's survey work, he learned, to his astonishment,
that neither Butler nor his party of peons had returned, the impression
forced itself upon him that something serious had happened, and
mustering afresh his own gang of tired and hungry assistants, and
providing them with lanterns, ropes, and other aids to a search, he led
them forth along the survey line in quest of the absent ones.
For a distance of nearly two miles from the camp the route of the
missing party was easily followed, being marked by stakes at frequent
intervals, indicating the line chosen by Butler as that to be surveyed
by Escombe. It ended at the foot of a precipitous slope of bare rock
towering aloft some seven or eight hundred feet, with further heights
beyond it. Here the searchers were brought to an abrupt halt, for Harry
was fully aware that no sane engineer would for a single moment dream of
carrying an ordinary railway up that rocky acclivity, while it was well
understood that the rack system of construction was to be avoided, if
possible, upon the score of expense. The probability was that Butler,
upon reaching this point, and finding himself confronted by the
necessity to make a wide detour, or, alternatively, to consider the
question of a tunnel, had struck off, either to the right or to the
left, on a tour of investigation; and there was the chance that,
becoming involved in the maze-like intricacies of his surroundings, he
had decided to camp out for the night rather than risk an accident by
attempting to return in darkness over difficult ground. But this was a
question which Harry felt ought to be settled forthwith, and he
accordingly issued instructions to his peons to search for the spoor of
the party and follow it up. To find the spoor was a very easy matter,
for the last stake had been driven in comparatively soft ground, and
despite the fact that it was by this time almost pitch dark, a short
search, aided by the light of the lanterns, disclosed the hoof prints of
Butlers horse, which led off to the left, and which were followed until
the searchers found themselves on the borders of an extensive pine wood
growing on hard, steeply rising ground over which it was impossible to
trace further the trail in the darkness. This impossibility once
realised, the search was abandoned for the night, and Harry very
reluctantly gave the word for a return to camp, which was reached about
nine o'clock.
At daybreak the next morning the camp was roused, breakfast prepared and
eaten, and, taking with them rations to last until nightfall, the search
party again set out upon their quest, making their way direct to the
spot where the trail had been lost on the previous night, where it was
again picked up without much trouble. It led in straight toward the
heart of the wood, and was followed, with ever-increasing difficulty,
for a distance of about three-quarters of a mile until it was lost on
hard, shaley ground, nor were the utmost efforts of the party equal to
finding it again. After carefully considering the situation, therefore,
Escombe detailed one man, an Indian, to accompany him, and, placing the
remainder of the peons in charge of a man whom he believed he could
trust, with instructions to search the wood thoroughly, returned to the
outskirts of the timber, and, beginning at the spot where the trail
entered it, proceeded, with the assistance of the Indian, to encircle
the wood, carefully examining every foot of the ground as they went, in
the hope that, if Butler and his party had passed through the timber and
emerged on its other side, the Indian would succeed in picking up the
spoor. But the hope was vain, for the wood was completely encircled--
the task occupying the entire day--without the discovery of the faintest
trace or sign of the passage of the missing party, which was not at all
surprising, for when the far side of the wood was reached the soil
proved to be of so stony a character, thickly interspersed with great
outcrops of rock, that even the most skilled and keen-eyed of trackers
might have been excused for failing in the search for footprints on so
unyielding a surface. It was a little puzzling to Harry that not even
the horse had left any trace behind him; but this was accounted for
when, upon rejoining the party who had been detailed to search the
interior of the wood, it was discovered that the animal had been found
by them, still saddled and bridled, wandering aimlessly about in search
of such scanty herbage as the soil there afforded. Upon the horse being
brought to him, the young Englishman--mindful of the scarcely concealed
hatred which Butler had, almost wantonly, as it seemed, aroused in the
breasts of the peons--immediately subjected the animal and his trappings
to a most rigorous examination in search of any sign of possible
violence, but nothing of the kind could be found, and the only result of
the examination was the conclusion, to which everything pointed, that
Butler had, for some reason, voluntarily dismounted and at least
temporarily abandoned the animal.
Butler and his party had now been missing for full twenty-four hours,
and Harry speedily arrived at two conclusions which inexorably led him
to a third. The first conclusion at which he arrived was that the peons
who had accompanied his chief, accustomed as they had been from their
earliest childhood to make their way about the country, were so little
likely to have lost their way that that theory might be unhesitatingly
abandoned; the second was that Butler would certainly not have absented
himself purposely from the camp for a whole night and a day, and that
therefore--this was the third conclusion--something had gone very
seriously wrong. The next problem that presented itself for solution
was: What was it that had gone wrong? Had the entire party met with an
accident? It was most unlikely. There were seven of them altogether,
and in the event of an accident, surely at least one of the seven would
have escaped and returned to the camp for help. Had they been seized
and carried off by brigands? When Harry put this question to the peons
who remained with him he was laughed at good-naturedly and assured that,
in the first place, there were no brigands in Peru, so far as they were
aware; and, in the second place, that if perchance there were they would
probably not have contented themselves with simply carrying off seven
men, six of whom would be only an encumbrance to them, but would almost
certainly have attacked and sacked the camp some time during the hours
of daylight, when it was left comparatively unprotected. There was but
one other probable alternative of which Harry could think, and that was
that Butler's peons, exasperated at length beyond endurance by some
fresh piece of petty tyranny on the white man's part, had deserted,
carrying off their employer with them, either with the purpose of being
revenged upon him, or in the hope that by holding him as a hostage they
might be able to secure payment of the amount of wages due to them. But
when Escombe submitted this alternative to his peons for their
consideration and opinion, they shook their heads and emphatically
declared that they did not believe that any such thing had happened.
And when further asked for their opinion as to what had happened, they
simply answered that they did not know what to think. But to Harry it
seemed that there was a certain lack of spontaneity in this reply, which
caused him to doubt whether the speakers were quite sincere in so
saying.
With a very heavy load of responsibility thus unexpectedly thrown upon
his shoulders, the young Englishman spent several anxious hours in camp
that night pondering upon what was the proper course for him now to
pursue, and he finally came to the conclusion that, having ascertained
beyond much possibility of doubt that his chief had been abducted, the
next thing to be done was to discover whither and under what
circumstances he had been carried off, and then to take the necessary
steps to effect his rescue. On the following morning, therefore, he
mustered the peons who still remained with him, and briefly explaining
to them his theory of an abduction, dispatched six of them in as many
different directions to seek for traces of the missing party, offering a
substantial reward to the one who should bring him such information as
should lead to the recovery of the missing white man; and then, taking a
couple of sure-footed mules, set off in company with an Indian tracker
to scour the entire neighbourhood, in the hope of obtaining some clue to
the whereabouts of the missing party from some of the people by whom
that particular part of the country was sparsely inhabited. And in
order to avoid the loss of time which would be entailed by returning to
camp at night, he took with him three days' provisions for himself and
his guide, intending to carry out as exhaustive a search as possible in
that space of time.
Thus far the search had been prosecuted entirely in a forward direction;
but at the last moment, before setting out upon his three days' quest,
it suddenly occurred to Escombe that the missing ones might possibly
have doubled back and be making their way toward the sea coast, so in
order to test the value of this theory he determined to return a few
miles along the line of the survey and see whether he could discover any
traces of them in that direction.
At this time the surveyors were in the heart of an exceptionally
difficult tract of country, where the obstacles to rapid work were such
that, since Harry's return to duty after his adventures in the
_quebrada_, they had not advanced very much more than twenty miles from
that spot; thus it was still early in the afternoon of the first day
when he found himself gazing down into the abyss, wherein he had so
narrowly escaped a terrible death. By a natural association of ideas he
no sooner beheld the scene so indelibly engraven upon his memory than
his thoughts reverted to Cachama, his kind-hearted old Indian nurse, and
her son Yupanqui, and he vaguely wondered whether perhaps either of
these might be able to afford him any information or suggestion that
would assist him in his quest. The more he thought of it the more did
the idea grow upon his mind, and at length he came to the decision that
he might as well prosecute his search in the direction of their cave as
in any other, and he forthwith communicated his decision to his guide,
who, somewhat to Escombe's surprise, at once admitted that he was well
acquainted with Cachama and her son, and offered to conduct the young
Englishman to the cave in which the two resided, by a short route, if
Harry would consent to be blindfolded during their passage of certain
portions of the way. To this the lad readily agreed--for he was by this
time becoming exceedingly anxious on Butler's account--and thereupon the
Indian, having hobbled the mules, demanded Harry's pocket--handkerchief
and immediately proceeded to blindfold the owner therewith, after which,
with joined hands, the pair resumed their way, travelling for two full
hours or more over exceedingly broken and difficult ground. Then the
pocket-handkerchief was removed, and Harry found himself standing in the
midst of a number of enormous fallen boulders at the foot of a
stupendous cliff, and facing an opening in the latter which had all the
appearance of being the mouth of a cavern. But by what route he had
arrived at the spot he could not tell, for he was so completely hemmed
in on every side by the boulders in the midst of which he stood that the
surrounding landscape was completely shut out, nothing being visible
save the boulders and the face of the cliff with the opening in it.
That he was correct in his surmise that this opening was a cavern was
now demonstrated by his Indian guide, who said:
"Be pleased to take my hand again, Senor, and follow me without fear.
This is one of several entrances to the cavern in which Cachama dwells.
You will find the ground smooth and even for almost the entire distance,
and presently we shall find torches by which to light our way."
And so, as a matter of fact, they did; for after traversing some ten or
fifteen yards the Indian halted and, releasing Escombe's hand, was heard
groping about in the darkness, and a moment later the rattling of dry
branches reached the lad's ears.
"Now, Senor," came the voice of the Indian out of the darkness, "if you
will graciously condescend to produce fire by means of those small
sticks which you call `matches' we shall soon have light to guide our
steps."
So said, so done; and as the torch kindled and blazed up the pair found
themselves standing in a rugged rock passage some five feet wide and
about eight feet high, with a perfectly smooth floor which, in the
flickering, uncertain light of the torch, presented the appearance of
having been brought into this condition by human agency. It was not
only smooth, but also level at the point where they stood. But even as
they started to resume their journey--the Indian bearing the torch and
leading the way--Harry saw that it almost immediately began to dip, and
ere they had advanced many paces the dip became so pronounced that the
smooth floor gave place to a long flight of roughly hewn steps, at first
broad and shallow, but rapidly steepening, until they became so narrow
and deep as to necessitate a considerable amount of care in the
negotiation of them. To Harry this flight seemed interminable; there
must have been hundreds of steps, for--although the lad did not time
himself--the descent appeared to have occupied considerably more than
half an hour; but at length they once more reached level ground and,
leaving the steps behind them, proceeded to traverse a narrow and
winding passage, the air in which smelt stale and musty, while here and
there they were obliged to squeeze their painful way between long, spiky
stalactites and stalagmites until they came to more steps--this time
leading upward. Harry counted these; there were only one hundred and
twenty-three of them, and they were not nearly so steep as the others;
and then they ceased, and the pair came to a gently rising floor, along
which they passed for about half a mile, finally entering a spacious
chamber or cavern, where, very much to the young Englishman's surprise,
they found Cachama awaiting them with a torch in her hand.
It was perfectly evident that the old lady was intensely angry, for upon
the appearance of her visitors she darted toward them and, shaking her
fist furiously in the face of the Indian--whom, by the way, she
addressed as Arima--she poured out upon him a torrent of strange words,
the virulence of which could be pretty accurately estimated by the
effect which they produced upon their recipient, for poor Arima writhed
under them as though they had been the lash of a whip. For fully ten
minutes the old woman stormed relentlessly before she was reduced to
silence through want of breath, and then the Indian got his chance to
reply, and apparently vindicate himself, for, as he proceeded with what
appeared to Escombe to be his explanation, Cachama's wrath gradually
subsided until she became sufficiently mistress of herself to greet the
young white man, which she did with more cordiality than her previous
outburst had led him to expect.
"Welcome back to my poor home, Senor!" she exclaimed. "I knew that you
were coming, and am glad to see you; but that dolt Arima enraged me, for
he brought you by the secret way, although he knew that it is forbidden
to reveal that way, or even the fact of its existence, to strangers. He
tells me, however, that the matter is urgent, and that he adopted the
precaution of blindfolding you so that you might not learn the secret of
the approach, therefore I will let the matter pass, especially as I feel
certain that I have but to express the wish and you will forget that
such a way exists."
"Certainly I will, Mama Cachama," answered Harry cheerfully. "You saved
my life not long ago, and I should be an ingrate indeed if I refused to
conform to your wishes in so simple a matter as that. But I understood
you to say that you knew I was coming to you! How on earth could you
possibly know that? I didn't know it myself until a few hours ago!"
"Did not I tell you that I possess the gift of foreknowledge?" remarked
Cachama somewhat impatiently. "You had no sooner conceived the idea of
coming to me than I became aware of it; nay, I even knew the way by
which you were coming, and it was that knowledge which angered me, for I
knew that you could not visit the cave by the secret approach except
with the help of one of us! But let that pass. Follow me to my living
room, where I have provided a meal for you; and while you are partaking
of it you may tell me in what manner you think I can assist you."
Ten minutes later Escombe once more found himself in the cavern which he
knew so well, partaking of a most excellent stew, and detailing to his
hostess between mouthfuls all the particulars relating to the
disappearance of Butler and his party of peons. He brought his recital
to a close by enquiring whether Cachama or Yupanqui had chanced to see
any of the missing ones.
"No," said Cachama. "They have not passed near here, or Yupanqui would
certainly have seen something of them and mentioned the fact to me. But
you have done well to come to me, for it will be strange indeed if I
cannot help you. You wish to know what has become of the Senor whom you
call Butler; is not that so? Very well. Seat yourself there before me,
hold my two hands in yours, and recall to your mind as vividly as
possible all the circumstances, be they ever so trivial, that you can
remember relating to the doings of the day upon which the Senor
disappeared, beginning with the moment of your awakening. Now begin,
for I am ready."
While the old creature spoke she was arranging matters in such a way
that she and Escombe could sit facing each other, knee to knee and with
their hands clasped, she leaning slightly back in a reclining posture,
with her eyes upturned toward the invisible roof of the cavern. As she
finished speaking the young Englishman directed his thoughts backward to
the morning of two days ago, mentally reproducing every incident of the
day, beginning with the moment when he arose from his camp bed, and
intending to continue, if need were, to that other moment when, after
the long fruitless search in the pine wood, he cast himself on that same
bed at the end of the day and, completely exhausted, sank to sleep.
But when he had reached this latter point of retrospection Mama
Cachama's eyes were closed and, to Harry's chagrin, she appeared to have
fallen into a deep sleep. Before, however, his disappointment had found
time to express itself in words the old Indian woman began to speak in a
low tone, as though soliloquising.
"Yes," she murmured, "I see it all quite distinctly, the white tents
gleaming in the brilliant sunshine of early morning, with their ropes
strained tight by the dew that has fallen heavily during the night; the
peons moving hither and thither, shivering in the keen air as they make
their preparations for the day's work; the horses and mules feeding
eagerly; the fires blazing cheerily and the blue smoke streaming
straight up in the still air. Yes, and I see the two Englishmen, the
old and the young one, sitting at breakfast in their tents. The elder
man is tall and thin, with black hair touched here and there with grey,
and a close-clipped moustache. He is dressed in dark-grey woollen
clothing, and wears brown boots reaching to the knee. He is glancing
through a little book as he eats, writing in it from time to time. Now
he rises and, taking a whip in his hand, puts on a soft cloth cap and
goes to the tent door. He calls to one named Jose to bring him his
horse, and then gives the young _Ingles_ certain instructions, speaking
sharply as though in anger.
"Now the horse is brought, and the elder _Ingles_ mounts him somewhat
awkwardly, as though he were not accustomed to life in the saddle, and
rides off, accompanied by six peons who carry long poles with small
flags on them, also heavy hammers, axes, machetes, ropes, and bundles of
wooden stakes. The young _Ingles_ also prepares to leave the camp, and
busies himself in examining certain strange instruments that are packed
in boxes of polished wood. But it is the elder _Ingles_ that I must
follow. He leads the way over rising ground, riding toward a snow-clad
peak that gleams like silver in the far distance, pausing occasionally
while his peons drive a stake into the ground where directed by him.
They proceed thus until they find themselves facing a bare rocky slope
so steep that scarcely might a llama climb it; and here they pause for a
time while the _Ingles_ looks about him. Then they move off to the
left, skirting the precipice until they come to a great wood growing on
a steep spur of the mountain. They enter this wood and penetrate it for
a considerable distance, the ground ever rising more steeply and
becoming looser and more difficult as they go. Here the horse finds it
so hard to keep his feet, and is in such constant danger of falling,
that at length the rider dismounts and, leaving the horse standing,
presses forward as though anxious to get to the other side of the wood,
his peons following and whispering eagerly together. They are
encumbered with the various articles which they carry, and consequently
cannot travel over that steep, loose ground so rapidly as the
Englishman, who carries nothing but his riding whip and one of the poles
with a flag on it, which he uses to help him over the rough ground, and
he turns upon them from time to time with angry words, urging them to
greater exertion. At first they answer nothing; but at length the
strictures of the _Ingles_ goad them to retort, humbly in the beginning,
but soon with such heat that he lifts his whip and strikes one of them
savagely with it across the face. And at that, as though the blow were
a signal, every peon flings from him his burden, and the whole of them
hurl themselves upon the white man and bear him to the ground, the one
who was struck raising his machete as though to split the skull of his
enemy."