FOUND!

At this point Mama Cachama became greatly agitated, and struggled

violently in an endeavour to wrench her hands out of Escombe's grasp,

crying that they were going to murder the Englishman, and that she would

not remain to see it. But the vision which she had thus far described

was of so extraordinary a character, and impressed the young man so

strongly with a sense of its reality and truth, that he was determined

to follow up the clue as far as possible; he therefore resolutely

retained his grip upon the old woman's hands, under the impression that,

if he released them, the vision would pass, possibly beyond recall.

But suddenly Cachama's struggles ceased, and she sighed as though

relieved of some great fear.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "they will not kill him after all; one of the peons

intervenes, pointing out that if the Englishman is killed, none of them

may dare to again show their faces in the towns, for information of the

murder will be given, and the Peruvian Corporation--who have employed

the Englishman to do this work for them--will never rest until every one

of the murderers is brought to justice. The others understand this at

once, and agree that there shall be no murder; but they are binding the

Englishman's hands and feet, so that he cannot escape; and now they are

asking each other what will be best to do with him. There is much

talk--some urge one thing, some another--now Jose, the man who prevented

the murder, speaks--he proposes that the prisoner shall be carried to a

certain place and there detained until the whole of their wages be paid

them, after which they are to release their prisoner, and each man will

go his way, working no more for the Englishman. Now they are pondering

on the proposal--yes, they have all agreed to it; and now they are

releasing the Englishman's feet, in order that he may walk with them,

but his hands remain tied behind him, and one of the peons holds the end

of the rope, to make sure that their prisoner shall not escape. Two

others grasp him, one by either arm, to help him, for the ground is

rough and steep, and the going bad. They move forward again, following

an easterly direction--their progress is slow, for the Englishman

stumbles at almost every step, his hands being tied. He declares that

walking, under such circumstances, is impossible, and angrily demands to

be released--but they laugh and jeer at him. He struggles on, falling

frequently despite the assistance of the two men who are holding him,

and at length the party emerge from the wood on its far side and find

themselves on the spur of the mountain, on barren, rocky, open ground.

Now they reach the crest of the spur, and, passing over it, still

travelling in an easterly direction, descend into the valley beyond

until they reach the margin of a small stream flowing northward. Here

they pause in the shadow of an enormous granite rock of very remarkable

appearance, for it bears a most extraordinary resemblance to the head

and neck of an Indian--I know it well; and among us it is called `The

Inca's Head'. They sit down beneath this rock and proceed to eat and

drink--for it is now two hours past midday--binding the Englishman's

feet and releasing his hands to enable him to feed himself. Now the

meal is over, and the party resume their march, going northward along

the western bank of the stream and plunging ever deeper into the valley.

The soil here is once more rich and fertile, being overgrown with long,

rank grass--through which they leave a trail easy to follow--and dense

masses of mimosa and other bush. Now it is evening, the valley grows

dark, and the party prepare to camp for the night; they have found a

suitable spot, quite close to the river bank, and are lighting a large

fire. They eat and drink again. Now they have finished, and are

disposing themselves to rest, one man of the party undertaking to remain

awake for a certain time to watch the prisoner, until relieved by

another who will perform the same service.

"The night passes; the light of dawn sweeps down the steep mountain

slopes into the valley, and the peon who is watching the prisoner awakes

his fellows. Again they eat and drink. Now they have finished their

meal and resume their march, still following the western bank of the

stream. I go with them as they plod on, hour after hour, until they

reach a point where the stream turns westward, and here they take

advantage of a shallow spot which enables them to cross to the other

side. They are now marching eastward up the slope of the valley, and at

length they emerge upon a great plateau, thickly dotted with extensive

clumps of bush, interspersed here and there with wide belts of timber

through which they pass. For many miles they plod onward, winding

hither and thither among the clumps of bush and through the belts of

forest trees, but all the while holding steadily toward the east. Night

comes again; a fire is lighted, as on the preceding night, they eat and

drink, and once more dispose themselves to sleep, one man again

undertaking to watch the prisoner. For a time--how long I know not, but

it appears to be about an hour--this man remains faithful to his duty;

but, as the moments pass and the prisoner appears to be sleeping

heavily, the watcher's vigilance relaxes, he grows drowsy, his eyelids

close, he dozes, awakes, dozes again, once more awakes, and finally

succumbs to sleep.

"Meanwhile the prisoner, who has to all appearance been sleeping

heavily, has remained very wide awake, and, observing that his guard is

not over watchful, proceeds to strain stealthily upon his bonds, which,

he has noticed, are not drawn quite so tight as usual. Gradually he

succeeds in loosening them to such an extent that eventually he is able

to free one hand. To free the other at once becomes easy, and, this

done, the prisoner very cautiously raises himself sufficiently to assure

himself that his captors are all soundly sleeping. Satisfied of this,

he rolls himself gently over and over, a few inches at a time, until he

is outside the circle of his captors, when he rises to his feet and with

infinite caution withdraws into the darkness, making for the nearest

clump of bush, which, upon reaching, he places between himself and the

faint glow of the dying camp fire. Hidden thus from his late captors,

should any of them chance to awake and miss him, he now walks rapidly

forward, constantly glancing over his shoulder in fear lest he should be

pursued; and in this manner he soon places a couple of miles between

himself and the sleeping peons. He believes that he is now returning

toward the camp over the ground which he has already traversed, and he

hastens onward as fast as the uneven nature of the ground will permit.

But the night is dark, the stars are obscured by heavy masses of

threatening rain-cloud; there is therefore no beacon by which he can

guide his footsteps, and, unsuspected by himself, he has gradually swung

round until he is heading south-east. And now the gathering storm

breaks, the rain falls heavily, and in a few minutes the unhappy

fugitive is drenched to the skin, and chilled to the marrow by the

fierce and bitter wind which comes swooping down from the snowfields and

glaciers of the higher Andes; yet he dares not take shelter from the

storm, even in the recesses of a clump of scrub, for he fears that by

dawn at the latest, his enemies will be on his track, and--forgetful or

ignorant of the fact that the storm will obliterate his trail from all

but dogs or experienced trackers--of which the peons have none--the

fugitive is madly anxious to put as many miles as possible between

himself and his pursuers. On he staggers, blindly and breathlessly,

whipped by the pelting rain, buffeted by the furious wind, half-fainting

already from exhaustion, yet spurred on by unreasoning terror--I think

that unless he is quickly rescued the Englishman will die."

Escombe shuddered and went white to the lips. This man, whose every

wandering footstep had been faithfully traced through Mama Cachama's

marvellous clairvoyant gift, was a remorseless tyrant in his petty way,

so curiously constituted that his one idea of pleasure appeared to be

the making miserable the lives of all about him, even to going out of

his way to do so, to such extent, indeed, that men had been heard to say

bitterly that, as in the case of some noxious animal or reptile, the

world would be the better for his death. The young Englishman could

recall without effort many an occasion when he had been so harassed and

worried, and his existence so embittered by the impish spite of this

same Butler that even he, gentle and kindly as was his disposition in

general, believed he could have contemplated the demise of the other

with a feeling not far removed from equanimity. Yet, now that the man

was in actual peril, all that was forgotten, every generous instinct in

the lad sprang at once to the surface, his one idea was to hurry to the

rescue, and he cried eagerly:

"Tell me exactly where to find him and I will go at once and bring him

in."

"Wait, _muchacho_, wait!" exclaimed Cachama impatiently. "Let me follow

him first as far as I may, lest I lose him, for now his way is growing

erratic, his mind and body are becoming numb with the misery of his

plight, and he no longer has any clear knowledge of anything, the one

conviction which haunts him being that he must press onward anywhere--no

matter where--otherwise his pursuers will overtake him and put him to a

terrible death. Ah! now the dawn breaks, and the storm is subsiding;

but the Englishman takes no note of this. He seems quite incapable of

noticing anything now, but runs on aimlessly, panting and gasping, his

breath bursting from his labouring lungs in great sobs, his eyes staring

unseeingly before him, his limbs quivering and staggering beneath him,

his thin clothing clinging in saturated tatters to his body, which is

streaked here and there with blood where the thorns have torn him, as he

burst through them in his headlong flight. Aha! the end must surely now

be drawing near, for see, the foam upon his lips is tinged with blood,

and rapidly grows a deeper crimson; he reels and stumbles as he runs--he

is down--no--yes--he is up again--and staggers onwards for a few yards--

now he is down again, falling with a crash--and, rolling over on his

back with outstretched arms, lies motionless, his eyes closed, and the

blood trickling out of the corners of his mouth."

"Is he dead, Mama Cachama? is he dead?" gasped Escombe, his grievances

all forgotten now, and his sense of pity stirred to its uttermost depths

by the shocking plight of his chief, so graphically painted by the words

of the old Indian woman.

"Nay," answered Cachama, "he still lives, for his chest heaves and he

now and then gasps for breath; but his flight is ended, for the present

at least, and if you would find him with the life still in his body you

must surely hasten."

"But how shall I find him?" demanded Harry. "You must direct me how to

go straight to where he lies; for should it be necessary for us to pick

up his trail and follow that, he would be dead long ere we could reach

him."

"Where is Arima?" demanded Cachama. "Let him come to me."

"I am here," answered the Indian, drawing near to the old woman.

"Then listen attentively, Arima, and mark well what I say," commanded

the Mama. She spoke to him for a full minute or more in the Indian

tongue, of which Escombe comprehended enough to understand that she was

describing what might be termed the bearings of the spot where Butler

lay exhausted and senseless, Arima nodding his head understanding and

murmuring here and there a word of comprehension as she went on. Her

description ended, she paused for a few seconds, then murmured: "It is

enough. Now let me awake, for I am old. I have wandered afar, and the

journey has wearied me."

Whereupon, after an interval of a minute or two, she slowly opened her

eyes, stared about her vacantly for a little, and finally said: "Ah,

yes, I remember! I was to tell you something, Senor. Have you learned

what you desired to know?"

"Yes, thanks," answered Harry, "always provided, of course, that--

that,"--he was about to say--"that your information is reliable"; but

substituted for those somewhat ungracious words--"that Arima can find

the spot which you have described to him."

"Think you that you can find it, Arima?" demanded the old woman.

"Yes, Mama Cachama," answered Arima, "I shall find it without doubt; for

I have listened attentively to all that you have said, and already know

the direction generally, in which to seek it, while the particulars

which you have given me are so explicit that I can scarcely miss the

exact spot."

"That is well," approved Cachama. Then, turning to Escombe, she said:

"And now, Senor, if you will remain with me for the rest of the day and

the coming night it will give me pleasure, and I will do my best for

your comfort; the afternoon is wellnigh spent, and if, as I understood

you to say, you started from your camp shortly after daybreak this

morning, you can scarcely return to it ere nightfall, and the way is a

rough and dangerous one to travel in the darkness."

"Nevertheless, with many thanks for your hospitable offer, I must go,"

answered Harry, "for the matter is urgent, as you must know, for your

last words to me were that if I would find my--friend with the life

still in him I must hasten."

"Nay, _amigo_, I know nothing of what I told you while in my state of

trance," answered the old woman; "but, whatever it may have been, you

may depend that it was true; therefore if I bade you hasten, it is

certain that hasten you must, and in that case it would be no kindness

in me to urge you to stay. Yet you will not go until you have again

eaten and drank."

"Thanks again, Mama," answered Harry, "but I fear we must. As you have

said, the afternoon is far advanced, and there is therefore all the more

reason why we should make the best possible use of every remaining

moment of daylight. If you will excuse us, therefore, we will bid you

adios and go forthwith. You have rendered me an inestimable service,

Mama, for which mere words of thanks seem a very inadequate recompense,

yet I will not offend you by offering any other reward. Still, if there

is a way--"

"There is none--at present--_amigo mio_" interrupted the old woman; "nor

do I wish any recompense beyond your thanks. If, as you say, I have

been able to help you I am glad, and shall be glad to help you again

whenever and as often as you may need my assistance. Nevertheless,"--

looking with sudden intentness into the young Englishman's eyes--"I

think--nay, I am certain--that a time is coming when, if you care to

remember them, Mama Cachama and Yupanqui will be glad that they

befriended you."

"Rest assured, then, Mama, that when that time arrives, you will not be

forgotten," answered Harry. "And now, _adios_, until we meet again.

Remember me to Yupanqui, and say that I am sorry I could not stay to see

him. Are you ready, Arima? Then march!"

It was close upon midnight when Escombe and his Indian guide rode into

camp, after a fatiguing and somewhat adventurous journey; for as Mama

Cachama had said, the way was rough and by no means devoid of danger

even in the daytime, while at night those dangers were multiplied a

hundredfold. Enquiry revealed that none of the six peons whom Harry had

that morning despatched to seek for traces of the missing party had

returned, and the young man therefore gave Arima instructions to make

all necessary preparations to start with him at daybreak, in search of

the spot at which Cachama had described Butler as falling exhausted

after his terrible flight through the night and storm. Of course Harry

scarcely expected to find Butler there, and still less did he hope it,

for in that event it would only too probably mean that the missing man

was dead, whereas Harry hoped that, after lying exhausted for perhaps

some hours, his chief would recover strength enough to make a further

effort to return to camp; but he knew that in any case the search must

necessarily start from the spot indicated by Cachama, and for that spot,

therefore, he must make in the first instance.

It was broad daylight, but the sun had not yet risen above the snow-

capped Andes when Escombe, accompanied by Arima, each of them mounted

upon a sturdy mule, and the Indian leading Butler's saddled and bridled

horse, rode out of camp the next morning on their quest for the missing

man, taking with them a week's rations for each, and a similar quantity

for Butler's use--should they be fortunate enough to find him--as well

as a small supply of medical comforts, the whole contained in a pack

securely strapped upon the saddle of the led horse.

For the first hour the route followed by Arima was identical with that

described by Mama Cachama while in her clairvoyant state; but when they

reached the wood wherein Butler's horse had been found straying, the

Indian bore away to the right, and, skirting the belt of timber for some

distance, cut through it near its southern extremity, emerging upon the

mountain spur some three miles from, and much higher than, the spot

where the first search party had come out. The crest of the spur now

lay about half a mile in front of them, and upon reaching it the

travellers beheld a magnificent prospect before them. The mountain spur

sloped away steeply from their feet, plunging down until it was lost in

a wide, densely wooded ravine about a mile in width, beyond which the

ground again rose somewhat irregularly in a wide sweep of upland,

gradually merging into foothills which, viewed from that distance,

appeared to be the advance guard of the towering Andes. The atmosphere

was exquisitely clear, revealing every object in the landscape with

photographic sharpness, and Arima paused for a few minutes, with the

double object of breathing the animals and taking a good, long,

comprehensive view of the scene before him. For some minutes he gazed

intently at the many landmarks, that stretched away before him and on

either hand, and at length turned to Escombe and said, pointing:

"You see those twin peaks yonder, Senor?"

"Assuredly," assented Harry.

"And you also see that hill between them and us--the one, I mean, with

the cloud shadow resting upon it which causes it to tell up dark against

the sunlit mountain slopes beyond?"

"Certainly," again assented Harry.

"It is a few miles on the other side of that hill that we shall find the

spot of which Mama Cachama spoke," explained Arima.

"Then you recognise the various marks which she described for your

guidance, do you, and believe that she actually saw them in her trance?"

"Without doubt, Senor," answered the Indian in a tone of surprise, as

though he wondered at the slight hint of incredulity suggested by the

question.

"And do you think that, when we arrive, we shall find the chief there?"

asked Harry.

"Nay, Senor, that I cannot say," answered Arima. "But this I know, that

if he is still there when we reach the spot he will be dead."

"Yes," assented Escombe, "I fear you are right. And how long will it

take us to reach the spot?"

"We shall do well if we get there before the sun sinks half-way down the

heavens to-morrow," was the answer.

"To-morrow!" ejaculated Harry incredulously. "How far, then, is it from

where we now stand?"

"If we could ride straight to it we might reach it to-day some two hours

before sunset," answered Arima. "But that is impossible, Senor; our

road lies off yonder to the right, along the slope of the mountain, to

the nearest point at which it will be possible for us to cross the

ravine; and when we have accomplished that, there will still be a

toilsome ride of some three hours before us, ere we can hope to emerge

from the ravine on the other side. We shall be fortunate if we

accomplish so much before we are overtaken by the darkness."

"Is that so?" questioned Harry. "Then in that case we had better press

forward without further delay." And, digging his heels into the ribs of

his mule, the young Englishman resumed his march.

It was shortly after three o'clock on the following afternoon when

Arima, who for the previous half-hour had been riding slowly and

studying the ground intently, suddenly reined up his mule, and, leaping

lightly to the ground, knelt down and carefully examined the long,

coarse grass that thickly carpeted the soil. For a full minute he

remained thus, delicately fingering the blades and gently pushing them

aside, then he rose to his feet, and, with a sigh of satisfaction,

pointed with his finger, saying:

"Here is the trail of the chief, Senor; he came from yonder and went in

that direction."

"Are you sure, Arima?" demanded Harry. "I can see no sign of the

passage of a man through this grass."

"Very possibly not, Senor," answered Arima dryly, "because, you see, you

are not accustomed to tracking; moreover, this trail is some days old,

and was made while the grass was wet and beaten down by the rain. But

it is there, nevertheless, for practised eyes to read, and, being found,

can now be easily followed. When the chief passed here he was in a

terribly exhausted state, and staggered as he ran, exactly as Mama

Cachama described, for just here he stumbled--if your honour will take

the trouble to dismount you can see the mark where the toe of his boot

dug into the soil--and I think the spot where he fell finally cannot be

very far from here."

"In that case," said Harry, "let us press on as quickly as possible, for

even minutes may be of inestimable value now. As to dismounting and

examining the marks for myself, we have no time for that at present,

Arima, and I am quite content to take your word for it that matters are

as you say. Can you follow the trail mounted, or must you proceed on

foot?"

"I can follow it mounted, Senor, seeing that I was mounted when I found

it," answered Arima. "But it will be well that you should ride a few

yards behind me, lest the trail should swerve suddenly to right or left

and be crossed by your mule." So saying, the Indian sprang into his

saddle and, turning the head of his animal, rode forward at a foot pace,

his eyes intently searching the sea of waving grass before him. For a

quarter of an hour he rode on thus, with Harry, leading Butler's horse,

following a yard or two in his rear; then he suddenly reined his mule

aside and, pointing to a barely perceptible depression in the grass,

said:

"See, Senor, there is where the chief first fell, as described by Mama

Cachama--yes--and,"--as his keen eyes roved hither and thither--"yonder

is the spot where he fell and lay."

A few paces brought them to the spot indicated, and here the signs were

clear enough for even Escombe's untrained eyes to read, the grass being

still depressed sufficiently to show that a human form had lain there

motionless and stretched at length for several hours; moreover, at that

part of the depression where the man's head had rested, the grass blades

were still flecked here and there with dried, ruddy froth, beneath which

lay a little patch of coagulated blood, from which a swarm of flies

arose as Arima bent over it and pointed it out to Harry. But the

fugitive had disappeared, and the Indian gave it as his opinion that the

chief had revived after lying insensible for about six hours, and had

immediately resumed his interrupted flight. As to the direction in

which he had gone, there was no difficulty in determining that, for,

leading away toward the eastward there were two wavering lines, close

together, traced through the long grass by the feet of the wanderer, and

still distinct enough to be followed by even so inexperienced a tracker

as the young Englishman.

"Now, Arima," exclaimed Harry, "is there anything worth knowing to be

gained by a prolonged examination of this `form'? Because, if not, we

will press on at once, since time is precious. The chief went in that

direction, of course--even I can see that--and the trail is so clear

that we ought to be able to follow it at a canter."

"Yes, quite easily, Senor," acquiesced Arima. "There is nothing to be

learned here beyond the fact that the Senor Butler fell at this spot,

and lay absolutely motionless for so long a time that he must have been

in a swoon. Then he revived, sat up, rose to his knees--see, there are

the impressions of his two knees, and of the toes of his boots behind

them--then he stood for several minutes, as though uncertain whither he

would go, and finally struck off to the eastward. But see how the trail

wavers this way and that way, even in the short length of it that we can

trace from here. He moved quite aimlessly, not knowing whither he would

go; and I think that, if he is still alive when we find him, Senor, he

will be quite crazy."

"So much the greater reason for finding him as quickly as possible.

Mount and ride, Arima," exclaimed Harry, pressing his heels into his

mule's sides, and urging the animal into a canter along the plainly

marked trail until he was taught better by the Indian.

"Never ride immediately over a trail which you are following, Senor, but

close beside it, on one side or the other of it, so that the trail

itself is left quite undisturbed. One never can tell when it may be

necessary to study the trail carefully in search of some bit of

information which might easily be obliterated if it were ridden or

walked over."

Harry at once pulled his mule to one side of the trail, Arima following

it on the opposite side, and the pair pushed on, winding hither and

thither as the track of the fugitive swerved this way and that, until

they had travelled a further distance of some nine or ten miles, when

they came upon another "form", where Butler had laid himself down to

rest for--as Arima estimated--a space of about two hours. There was

nothing of importance to be learned here; they therefore pushed forward

again with all possible speed, for the sun was now rapidly declining

toward the western horizon, and Escombe was anxious to find the wanderer

before nightfall, if possible, since another night's exposure in the

keen air of that elevated plain might very well prove fatal to a man in

Butler's terribly exhausted condition.

For the last hour of the pursuit the track had led over rising ground,

and it soon became pretty evident that the fugitive had been making his

uncertain way toward a gorge between two mountains, which had gradually

been opening out ahead of the pursuers. Meanwhile the spoor had been

growing fresher with every stride of the cantering mules, showing that

the trackers were rapidly gaining upon the chase, and that the latter

was now in the very last stage of exhaustion, for the "forms" where he

had paused to rest were ever becoming more frequent and closer together.

The Indian, therefore, after attentively studying the last form which

was encountered, gave it as his opinion that the hunted man could not

now be more than a mile or two ahead, and suggested that Harry should

push straight on for the entrance of the gorge, in the hope of sighting

the fugitive and running him down, while he (Arima), with the led horse,

should continue to follow the trail, for if Butler should gain the gorge

before being overtaken, his pursuit over the rocky ground might be slow

and difficult. Accordingly, Harry turned his mule slightly aside from

the trail, and made straight for a landmark indicated by the Indian,

pressing his beast forward at its best pace. He had ridden thus about a

quarter of an hour, and was rapidly approaching the entrance of the

gorge, when he suddenly caught sight of a moving object ahead, winding

its way among a number of masses of granite outcrop; and urging his

exhausted mule to a final effort, Escombe presently had the satisfaction

of identifying the moving object as a man--a white man--attired in a few

tattered remnants of what had once been civilised clothing. That the

man was Butler there could be no shadow of doubt, and a few strides

farther enabled Harry to recognise him. As he did so, the stumbling,

staggering figure paused for a moment, glanced behind him, and saw that

he was pursued; whereupon he flung his arms above his head, emitted a

most horrible, eldritch scream, started to run forward again, staggered

a few paces, and fell forward prone upon the ground, where he lay

motionless.