THE EVENTS OF A NIGHT
Since the large chamber was in utter darkness, Saxe decided on
recourse to a device which had served him well in similar situations
of his boyhood among the mountains. As soon as Margaret moved and
drew a little away from him, he spoke.
“We must step back to the passage-way,” he said. “From it, I can take
our bearings, so that we can cross the place without floundering
about haphazard in the dark.”
“Yes,” the girl answered. Her voice came very low, quavering a little.
Two paces brought them again to the entrance of the corridor. There,
with a hand touching either side, Saxe made sure of the exact
direction in which he faced, and from this he judged his course, for
he remembered the relative positions of the passage by which they
had come into the big room and of the shadows he had seen on the
opposite wall. He had in mind as well his estimate of the diameter of
the chamber, and so, when he had made sure of his direction he set
off boldly, after again taking Margaret by the hand. He lengthened
his stride a trifle, to make it the measure of a pace. When he had
counted fifteen steps, he reduced his speed, and moved with caution,
groping before him. A moment later, his hands encountered the wall.
He was confident that he had held his course fairly straight in
crossing the chamber, and was certain, in consequence, that the
opening into the passage must lie a little to his left. He therefore
drew Margaret in this direction. An instant later, to his joy, his
left hand found emptiness. Without a word, the two hurried forward,
and presently they saw before them a dim glow that was the first hint
of outer light. Saxe fell behind the girl as the passage narrowed.
Margaret quickened her steps to a run, and he held fast at her heels.
In the same second with her, he issued from the cavern, and sent
forth a huge shout, which was a little for escape from the cave, but
chiefly for a primitive, masterful delight in the woman beside him.
Margaret smiled sympathy with his mood--and her smile, it may be, was
divided in its sources, even as was the lover’s cry of triumph.
The girl’s face was mantled with blushes. But she spoke bravely, with
a dainty air of inconsequence.
“Why, how late it is!” She pointed toward the west. “See, the sun has
set already, we were in there for ages.”
“Yes,” Saxe agreed. “And it’s like rebirth to come back--rebirth into
a new, glorious life.” With an effort, he checked himself, for he
would not embarrass her now, though passion bubbled to his lips. “We
must paddle over to where the rest are, and let them know about the
cave at once.”
The news brought by the two created a lively excitement among
the others, along with a considerable feeling of relief, for the
continued absence of Margaret and Saxe had been inexplicable, until
Billy Walker quoted, with ostentatious carelessness:
_Love’s a virtue for heroes--as white as the snow on high hills,
And immortal as every great soul is that struggles, endures and
fulfills._
At this utterance from the seer, who was by no means prone to
sentimental rhapsodizing, Roy appeared at first puzzled, then
enlightened, and he smiled--nor speculated more as to the whereabouts
of his missing friend, while David grinned appreciatively, and
accepted the innuendo as a sufficient explanation of Saxe’s absence
even in this crisis of affairs.
For the rest, the three, with some assistance from Jake, had passed a
busy afternoon, without accomplishing anything beyond a disheartening
certainty that the gold had been very effectually concealed. Much of
the cove was shallow, and Billy Walker had suited his convenience
by pursuing his investigations of these portions from the launch
which Jake guided to and fro as required. The clearness of the water
made it possible to see the bottom distinctly except at the greatest
depths, and in this comfortable fashion Billy conducted his search,
smoking the inevitable black cigar. In the deeper parts, Roy, clad
in a bathing-suit, made such examination of the bottom as he might
by diving. David either assisted Billy in the scrutiny from the
launch, or hunted over the islands near the shore. At no time did
it occur to them to extend their researches so far as the island
on which Saxe and Margaret had landed. They had just come to the
conclusion that they must give over work for the day, and were again
beginning to feel concern in regard to the continued absence of the
heir himself, when they were startled by a hail in the voice of the
missing man. They stared out over the lake, and perceived the canoe
darting toward them, with Margaret plying a skilled paddle from the
bow. Jake, who had just bent to the fly-wheel of the engine to crank
up, dropped again to the bench; the others stood up and shouted.
They had no least suspicion that the truants could be bringing news
of the treasure. When finally the light craft ranged alongside the
launch, and the story of the cavern was told, there were wonder and
satisfaction. Roy was the first to make a suggestion as to the course
to be pursued.
“The rest of you go on to the cottage,” he directed. “I’ll stay
here on guard, in case our friend, the engineer, should have a mind
to drop in on a visit. After dinner, let Jake bring me a snack to
eat, and I’ll keep watch through the night. You--” he turned toward
Margaret and Saxe--“can take me to the island, and show me the
entrance to the cave, and then leave me.”
There were protestations from the others, offers to share the watch
with him; but Roy resisted all importunities.
“I’d like to meet Masters again,” he declared, in his gentlest voice.
“I don’t want any help.” They recognized the emphasis of finality,
and forebore further argument.
But, when after dinner at the cottage Jake was about setting forth in
the launch with supplies for Roy, which in addition to food included
a pair of blankets and a lantern, David appeared at the boat-house,
and accosted the old man just as the propeller began to revolve:
“Hold your hosses, Jake!” he called; and the boatman obediently threw
out the clutch, and steered in a slowing circle to the dock. As he
came alongside, David produced--with a deftness of movement that
showed some degree of familiarity with gun-play--a very businesslike
appearing automatic, which lay snugly in his palm. With his other
hand, he brought forth a box of cartridges. These and the weapon, he
extended toward Jake.
“For Roy,” he explained. Jake nodded, and stowed the armament in a
locker.
The recipient of this equipment displayed small gratitude for his
friend’s thoughtfulness. On the contrary, he sniffed when Jake,
after beaching the launch on the strip of sand where Roy awaited his
coming, presented the automatic and cartridges as first fruits.
“I sha’n’t need a gun,” Roy declared superciliously; and his
pugnacious jaw was thrust forward yet once again. And, afterward,
when Jake had accompanied him to the cavern with the blankets and the
lighted lantern, the boatman’s well-meant offer to remain for the
night was rejected almost with indignation. “You don’t understand,
Jake,” Roy said, venomously. “I personally have an account to settle
with that infernal engineer.”
The old man grinned a cheerful appreciation of the situation.
“Of course,” he remarked, in a matter-of-fact tone, “you got quite
some hefty grudge agin ’im for the way he ducked your sweetheart.”
At this candid statement, Roy gaped in amazement.
“Why, how did you know she--” he began. Then, he halted in confusion.
For the first time in many years, he felt himself incapable of speech.
Jake chuckled in high good nature, and deemed that explanation enough.
“Well, lick ’im good, if ye ketch ’im,” he exhorted; and straightway
set out on his return to the cottage, where he and David were to
serve as guards throughout the night.
Thus left to his own devices, Roy proceeded to make himself as
comfortable as the circumstances of his situation would permit. He
was sure that the enemy would not appear on the scene for some time
yet, if at all, and in the interval before that possible coming he
proposed to make himself at ease. To this end, he placed the lantern
in the center of the chamber on the floor, and folded the blankets
into a comfortable rug, on which he seated himself cross-legged,
according to the fashion he had learned to like in the Far East. He
was at pains to have the luncheon-basket conveniently placed before
him, and now began an investigation of its contents with a curiosity
sharpened by keen appetite. He smiled contentedly as he brought out
a cold sliced fowl, fresh salad, a vacuum-bottle of hot coffee--the
dozen other things that would have made a formidable array, had it
not been for the strength of hunger with which he happily confronted
them. As he renewed energy with this repast, Roy smiled at the
contrast of its luxuriousness, as compared with many another that
had been his lot in the wild places. He was alone in the wilderness,
as often of old, but there the similarity ceased, for in those other
places, there had been no dainties, such as the ones before him, no
napkins of damask, or utensils of silver. And yet----
Roy broke off his musings, as he finished his third cigarette,
and set himself to make arrangements for the night. He removed
his blankets to a point against the wall of the cavern on the
side opposite the entrance, where a tiny recess offered partial
concealment. In this nook, he spread out the blankets, extinguished
the lantern, stretched himself in a comfortable posture, and thus
entered on the long vigil. He did not hesitate to doze, as he was
sure that he retained his old habit of becoming alert at the faintest
sound.
It was hours afterward when he became broad-awake in an instant. For
a time, he lay motionless, all his senses quickened. The blackness of
the chamber seemed impenetrable, yet his eyes stared steadfastly into
the dark, expectant for aught that might befall. It was on hearing,
however, that he depended chiefly to gather information, and his ears
were set keenly. Yet, though he listened so intently, minute after
minute passed, and there was no least interruption of the perfect
silence.
Roy found himself in a quandary. He gave Masters credit for a
shrewdness equal to the known unscrupulousness of the fellow.
Undoubtedly, the engineer had lurked on some vantage spot of the
shore throughout the day, and by this espionage had made himself
acquainted with the progress of events on the lake. If he had
perceived the landing of Margaret and Saxe on the island, as
probably, almost certainly, he had, he would have known also of their
long tarrying there, and of Roy’s remaining on the island. Perhaps
from some elevation Masters had followed all their activities through
a glass, and had been able by this method to inform himself precisely
concerning the location of the cavern in which Roy was lying.
Or, even, he might have come to the island, venturing in by the
north-east side, so that his approach would not have been observed by
the others. He could very easily have kept himself hidden afterward,
as the unevennesses of the island and the profuse growth of trees
and bushes offered ample concealment. But, whether the advent to
the island had been earlier or later, Roy was sure that it was now
accomplished, and that the engineer was there present in the chamber
with him. His sixth sense spoke the assurance.
After all, it was sight, and not hearing, that at last served to
guide the warden of the cavern. His eyes, which had been roving
vainly in an effort to pierce the black space, suddenly caught a
faintest glow. It was so indistinct, so subtly suggested rather than
seen, that for a little Roy believed his vision deluded by some
phosphorescence within his brain, which had set the nerves of sight
to vibrating. He closed the eyelids for a moment, then looked again.
The vague hint of radiance far remote still lingered. On the instant,
doubt vanished; in its stead came certainty.
There could be no question that the light shone from a distance. Even
the faintest spark anywhere near would have presented an appearance
radically different from this. The diffusion of it was proof that
its origin was in a light set a long way off. Finally, Roy guessed
that the source of it was shut out from his direct vision by some
obstacle intervening between him and it, while the nimbus extended
beyond the barrier, and thus became perceptible. If this were,
indeed, the case, it would be reasonable to suppose that the person
responsible for the light was equally far away. The conclusion was by
no means inevitable, but it was a fair assumption. Roy deemed himself
justified in acting upon it.
Forthwith, he got to his feet, using every caution to avoid the least
noise. When erect, he stood for a time listening, but could detect no
sound. He had removed his shoes before lying down, and now he went
forward in stockinged feet, very slowly, taking the direction whence
the light seemed to issue, although its feebleness made the location
far from sure. He used all the skill of which he was capable in this
advance, and did indeed contrive to avoid making any noise. When
he had gone for two rods, or more, he halted, and again listened.
Nothing, however, rewarded his attention, and presently he renewed
the tedious progress. Soon, it was borne in on him that the origin of
the light was within one of the passages leading downward, of which
Saxe had told him, and of which entrances had been observed by him
while he was eating his meal, though he had not troubled to examine
them. His sense of direction, strong naturally, had been developed by
experience, and he was convinced that the radiance streamed from the
passage that was on the left, as he faced the two.
From Saxe’s narrative, he knew that these tunnels were winding. The
fact would readily explain the manner of the light, visible where he
was in the big room like the afterglow from a sunset, with the cause
of it hidden beyond the turnings of the corridor in which it burned,
as the sun lies unseen below the horizon. With this understanding of
the situation, Roy felt an accession of confidence, and at once moved
forward more briskly in the direction from which the illumination
shone. He held his hands outstretched, for the light was still too
feeble to show objects round about him, even vaguely. Presently, his
right hand touched stone. After another step, his left hand also came
in contact with the wall, and he knew that he was within the passage,
though whether that on the right or on the left he could only guess,
nor did he regard the matter as of importance.
From this point onward, Roy’s advance, while made with unfailing
caution, was much more expeditious. His stockinged feet seemed to
possess a consciousness of their own, by which they searched for,
and found, the fragments of rubble that were smooth enough not to
cut, while solid enough not to yield a sound under the pressure of
his weight. And, as he went forward, the light increased, little
by little, until at last he could distinguish the sides of the
tunnel through which he was passing. Yet, even when the illumination
became sufficient to show what sort the footing, Roy chose still to
trust his sense of touch, and held his eyes alert for anything that
might appear in the distance beyond. He was aware that the passage
descended for a time, then mounted slowly, only to slope downward
again, and to continue thus. He noted, too, that sometimes it
widened, until he could touch only one wall. He mistook the opening
into the other passage for one of these broader places.
Roy aroused to the fact that the source of the light he sought was
itself advancing, even as he advanced. There was no other possible
explanation of the way in which it remained at about the same
brilliancy, though he went forward with good speed. By this time,
too, Roy was certain that the distance between him and the light was
such as to leave little danger in the slight noise of his progress.
So, he mended his pace, and soon perceived, with satisfaction, that
the radiance noticeably increased. He maintained the quickened speed
for a minute or two longer, then prudently moderated it again.
Indeed, so bright was the light now that he made sure of being very
close to the cause of it, and renewed the exercise of all his caution
as he crept forward. That this was none too much--nor, indeed,
enough--was shown by what presently followed.
Roy paused again, to examine the situation in detail. The brilliance
of the light now assured him that its source was shut from him only
by a single bend of the tunnel, which was hardly a rod in front. It
was plain, then, that the time had come for determining the manner
of his attack, since the moment could not be long delayed. He
had no intention of resorting to the weapon with which David had
equipped him. He planned that he would approach the turning of the
passage noiselessly, and seek to reconnoitre from that point without
being observed. Thereafter, as opportunity should serve, he would
steal upon his enemy unaware, overpower the fellow, handling him
with roughness enough to afford some adequate satisfaction for the
outrage against May Thurston, and finally, when the villain had been
reduced to passivity, hold him prisoner--to which purpose, at last,
the automatic might prove convenient. The arrangement was admirably
simple; there remained but to test its efficacy.
The length of tunnel thus traversed by Roy in his pursuit had been
considerable. Throughout the latter portion, the slope had been
downward, with frequent variations from a sharp incline to stretches
almost level. In the place to which he had now attained, the slant
was scarcely perceptible. At this distance from the big chamber, he
had long passed beneath the waters of the lake. The location of the
treasure might well be anywhere hereabouts, according to the saying
of the miser’s cipher. Roy was moved to devouring curiosity to learn
whether or no the man ahead of him had in truth come upon the gold.
If so, the accomplishment should avail the scoundrel little, he
vowed, and his jaw was thrust forward, as once again he advanced.
Roy looked to the placing of his feet for every step, neglecting no
precaution to avoid aught that might give warning of his approach.
In this stealthy fashion, he came to the turning of the tunnel, and
then, after another delay to make sure that his presence remained
unsuspected, he ventured to peer into the passage beyond the bend.
His heart exulted! Surely, fate had delivered his enemy into his hand.
A hundred feet beyond the corner from which Roy looked, a lantern
was set on the floor of the passage. This was the source of the
light that he had trailed so painstakingly. It burned clearly; the
radiance from it showed all about with distinctness. The conspicuous
thing on which the beams shone was the form of Masters, who was
kneeling and gazing fixedly down into an opening in the floor of the
cavern. The man was on the farther side of this, and so had his face
toward the watcher, but absorption in whatever was displayed beneath
him prevented his noticing the presence of the newcomer. Roy was,
therefore, able to continue his spying at ease. Curiosity, as well as
discretion, bade him delay attack. He was eager to learn the nature
of the engineer’s interest in the opening, and, too, the fellow’s
position, facing up the tunnel, rendered impossible at the moment
a rush that should take him by surprise. Undoubtedly, the engineer
would make some movement presently, which would place him more
conveniently for Roy’s purpose. In the meantime, it would be enough
to observe, and to await the right instant for assault.
It may be that Masters, too, possessed a sixth sense. Roy could never
be convinced that there was not something uncanny in the events that
now immediately followed. Masters jumped down into the opening,
where he stood with only head and shoulders exposed. Then, in an
instant, the light of the lantern vanished--with that, the crash of a
forty-five, thunderous there within the cavern. A second report came
in the same instant. A searing pain touched Roy’s brow, and he lay
unconscious.