"Yes," said the doctor, as he scanned some little specks of the pale
yellow glistening metal, and the two blacks crept silently closer, "this
is gold, sure enough."
"I don't know much about these things," said Sir James, examining the
big flake carefully, "but I didn't think that it was possible to find
gold in cement. If it had been quartz rock, doctor--"
"Ah, you are thinking of gold ore, Sir James," said the doctor, taking
out his knife and opening it. "These are scraps of manufactured gold."
"Why, who could have manufactured them," said Mark sharply.
"We must go to history for that," replied the doctor, "and the only
people I can suggest would be the Phoenicians; but I may be quite wrong,
for gold has been searched for and used by most ancient people.--Allow
me, Sir James;" and he took back the piece of cement and with the point
of his knife picked out a little rivet, which he tried with a sharp
blade. "Yes," he said; "pure gold. You see it's quite soft. Why, I
can cut it almost as easily as a piece of lead. Here's another little
rivet. I should say this has been a piece cut off a length of gold
wire."
"But what would they want such little bits as that for?" asked Dean.
"For the purpose I name, as rivets, to fasten down gold plates. There
are more and more of them here--and look at this corner where the cement
has broken. Here's a scrap of thin hammered plate of gold. Why, boys,
we have come to the place where our little friend yonder must have
obtained his gold wire ornaments."
"But it isn't likely," said Mark, "that we should come by chance and dig
down in the right place."
"No, I don't think this can be the right place, but I do think that we
have come to the ruins where this precious metal is found."
"But that means," said Mark, now speaking excitedly, "that we have come
to a place where there must be quantities of such things."
"I think so too," said the doctor. "We have certainly made a very
curious discovery--one which may help us to find out who the people were
who raised these walls. What do you say, Sir James? Should we be
satisfied with what we have found, or leave it all for to-day?"
"I will go by what the boys say," said Sir James. "What do you think,
boys?"
"Oh, go on!" cried the lads together, and as they spoke Mark caught
sight of the pigmy leaning forward as if to draw his big companion's
attention to what was going on.
"Go on, then, doctor," cried Sir James.
"Well, then," said the doctor, "what I should like to do now would be to
bore right through this cement--tamp it, as the mining people call it--
then ram in the contents of a couple or three cartridges and fire them
with a fuse."
"You mean and blow the floor to pieces?"
"Exactly," said the doctor. "It will save a great deal of time and
labour, and show us whether it is worth while continuing our researches
here."
"Oh, go on, then," cried Mark.
Bob Bacon set to work the next minute tamping a hole diagonally down
from where the large piece of cement had been taken out.
The doctor had been under the expectation that they were nearly through
the cement floor, but the iron bar was driven down lower and lower,
re-pounding the granite into dust, which was fished out by means of a
cleaning rod, till the hole was about eighteen inches deep, measuring
from the surface of the floor. Then gunpowder was put in and rammed
down pretty hard, and the question arose, What was to be done for a
fuse?
"Here, I can soon manage that, gentlemen," said Dan the handy. "I want
a drop of water."
"I have some in my flask," said the doctor.
"Bit of string," continued Dan; and he fished out a piece directly from
his trousers' pocket, and after the doctor had poured a little water
into the cup of his flask the little sailor thrust in a piece of string,
let it soak for a few minutes, and then drew it through his fingers to
squeeze out as much of the water as he could and send it well through
the partly untwisted fibres.
"Now, Mr Mark, sir, got a blank cartridge?"
"No, but I can soon take the ball out of one."
This the boy did, and after removing the wad he poured a little of the
dry powder into Dan's palm. The piece of string was roughly rolled up,
laid upon the pinch or two of powder, and then the little sailor placed
his palms together and gave them a circular, millstone-like movement one
over the other till all the powder was absorbed and his hands as black
as ink.
"There, gentlemen," he said, passing the string two or three times
through his fingers, "that's nearly dry now, and if it's shoved down the
hole, one end left out, and the hole stopped with a bit of clay--"
"Where are you going to get your clay, mate?" said Bob Bacon.
"Oh, I don't know," said the man. "Never mind the clay. You can make
baskets."
"What's that got to do with it?" growled Bob.
"Not much, but pull out your knife and find a good soft bit of wood that
you can turn into a peg."
This was soon done, and laying the string fuse a little way along the
cement floor, Dan declared the mine to be ready.
"Only wants everybody to stand clear, gentlemen," said the little
fellow, "and somebody to go down with a match, and then run. Then up
she goes; and that's my job."
"Oh, I'll do that," cried Mark, and he pulled out a little silver box of
matches that he had in his pocket.
"Steady, Mr Mark, sir--steady!" cried the little fellow.
"Clear out, everybody!" cried Mark.
The doctor opened his lips to speak angrily, but on second thoughts he
followed those who were in the hole and had begun making for a safe
distance from the explosion that was to come.
"Spring out the moment you have lit the fuse," he shouted.
"All right," cried Mark impetuously, as, bending down, he rapidly struck
a wax match and held it to the string fuse; and then--he could not have
explained why--stood over it as if affected by some nightmare-like
feeling, watching the tiny sparkling of the damp powder as it began to
run along the string towards the hole.
"Mr Mark!" shouted the little sailor. "Run--run!"
The boy started violently, turned to look at the speaker, then back at
the faint sparkling of the fuse, and then stared helplessly again after
those who were now standing some little distance away.
"Yah! Run!" yelled Buck Denham, and as he shouted he snatched off
Dean's hat and sent it skimming like a boomerang right away over the
bushes, though, unlike a boomerang, it did not come back.
It affected his purpose, though, for startled by the driver's fierce
yell, and his attention being taken by the flying hat, Mark made a dash,
climbed out of the hole, rose to his feet, and had begun to run for
safety, when the explosion came with a roar; and it was as if a giant
had suddenly given the boy a tremendous push which sent him flying into
the nearest bushes, out of which he was struggling when Dean and Buck
Denham came running through the smoke and fragments of earth and cement
which were falling all around.
"Oh, Mark, don't say you are hurt!"
"Why not?" said Mark slowly, as he snatched at Buck's extended hand and
struggled out from amongst the thorns. "I am, I tell you," continued
the boy.
"Not much, sir, are you?" said the driver. "Only a bit pricked, eh?"
"Well, I don't know," said Mark slowly, as he began to squirm and alter
the set of his clothes. "Yes, pricked a bit, though."
"And a good job it's no worse, sir."
"Here, you," cried Dean angrily, for the excitement of the incident had
brought on a curious attack of irritation. "You, Buck Denham, how dare
you snatch off my hat like that and send it flying!"
"Eh?" said the man, staring. "Oh, ah, so I did."
"Then don't do it again, sir!" And then turning hurriedly away with a
feeling of annoyance at his display of fault-finding with one who he
felt now had probably saved his cousin from serious hurt, he went on
after his hat, but only to meet the pigmy half way to the spot where it
had fallen, holding out the missing straw at the end of Mak's spear.
"Are you hurt much, Mark?" said the doctor sternly; and the words were
echoed by Sir James, who came hurrying up.
"Oh, no," said the boy hastily, feeling half annoyed now at the bearing
of those near; and then he stood looking at his father's frowning
countenance and listened to the doctor's sternly uttered whisper.
"Foolishly impetuous and thoughtless," said the doctor. "How often have
I told you to try to think before you act!"
"I--I'm very sorry, sir," faltered Mark. "And so am I," said the doctor
gravely, as he turned away. "Now, Denham," he continued, in his natural
tones, speaking as if to put an end to the incident by those last words,
"how has the fuse acted?"
"Splendid, sir," replied the man, who had followed Dan down into the
hole. "There's no end of pieces loose ready for you to have a look at
them. Yah! Mind where you are coming to, my lads!" he continued, to
the two keepers, who had now followed him down into the hole. "Don't
trample. Get your baskets and bring them to the edge here, and me and
Dan'll hand you out the bits to lay ready for the boss to look over.
Here's one or two of them, Dr Robertson, sir, as has got a touch of
gold in them."
And so it proved, for as the pieces were carefully picked up and passed
on for the doctor to examine, he found more of the little eighth or
quarter of an inch long scraps of wire, and in addition, here and there
in the fragments of cement, tiny wedge-like tacks of the precious metal.
"Doesn't seem much," said Mark, "after all. It would take ten times as
many scraps as we have found to weigh a sovereign."
"I don't know about your calculation," said the doctor, speaking
cheerfully now, for his angry feeling had passed away. "From one point
of view we might say the whole find was of no value, but from another--
the archaeological point of view--valuable indeed. But by the way,
boys, I don't like those two blacks looking so glum at us. It's almost
as if they felt contempt for the white man seeming so anxious to find
gold."
"Here's another bit, sir," cried Buck Denham. "The powder chucked it
right over here, close to the wall."
As he spoke the man held a good-sized fragment of the cement pressed
against his side with one hand, and began to climb out of the hole.
"No, no, thank you, sir," he said, as Mark stooped down to take the
piece of cement; and then in a whisper, "I wanted for them blacks not to
see it; but they have got eyes like needles, and I think they did.
Don't look round at them. These chaps have got ideas of their own. See
that, doctor, sir?" He turned the fragment over now, as he stood with
his back turned to Mak and the pigmy. "See that, sir?"
"Yes," said the doctor; "that explains what I was talking about just
now. Their ideas are that to disturb the bones of the dead may mean
mischief or injury to themselves. I believe that is what they think.
Look, Sir James;" and he held the fragment so that his chief could see
that, fixed in the cement like a fossil, there was a large portion of a
human bone.
"Yes," said Sir James. "Possibly there has been fighting here."
"No, sir, I don't think that," said the doctor. "What we have found
before, and this, seem to point to the fact that we have hit upon one of
the old dwellings, for it is the custom among some of the nations to
bury their dead beneath the floor of their homes, and to cover them over
with a fresh floor before another family can occupy the old place."
"Fresh floor?" cried Mark eagerly.
"Yes, and we have seen confirmation of what I have read, for these
scraps of gold and the bone must have been covered-in with the wet
cement for it to be bedded within like this."
"This is rather gruesome, doctor," said Sir James.
"Yes, sir, but I think you must agree that it is very interesting,
teaching us as it does the habits and customs of people who lived many
hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years ago."
"Yes," said Sir James; "but it is rather ghoulish to disturb their
remains. What are you going to do now?"
"I was going to confirm my notions by going down into the pit and trying
to make sure whether there are any more remains; and if there are, I
propose that we shall refrain from doing anything that may arouse the
prejudices of the blacks."
"How?" said Sir James.
"By having that hole filled up again, for I feel convinced that we shall
find plenty to satisfy our desires without interfering with such relics
as these."
"I quite agree," said Sir James.
"Here, come with me, Denham," said the doctor, and without heeding the
two blacks, who stood aloof, leaning upon their spears close under the
wall, the doctor, closely followed by Denham and the boys, descended
into the deep square hole, where the sides of the round cavity torn out
by the charge of powder were examined for a few minutes, and then word
was given and the men set to work with alacrity to fill up the great
hole again.
"I say, Mark," said Dean, who had been looking on, quietly observant,
while the work progressed, for as there was no trampling down, that
which had been dug out kept on rising, till the hole was filled and rose
up above the edges in a loose heap, "have you noticed Mak?"
"Yes," said Mark, "and the Pig too. As usual, the doctor's right. The
more the hole gets filled up the more they seem to grow good-tempered
again. Yes, they didn't like it, and the doctor's always right."
"But I say, Mark, you didn't think so when he gave you such a snubbing
for rushing forward to fire the train."
"Yes, I did," said Mark, in a whisper. "I did think so, and I think so
now, and that's what makes it feel so hard."
It is impossible to say whether the doctor, who was supposed to be
always right, had any idea of what the boys were saying, but just then
in his cheeriest tones he cried, "Come along, boys; don't stop talking.
We have done work enough for one day. Let's go and see what Dan has
ready for us in the way of cooking. I feel half starved, don't you?"
"But Dan is helping to finish the covering in."
"Oh, no, he is not," said the doctor. "Brown came and fetched him half
an hour ago. He has been keeping up the fire, and I daresay we shall
not have to wait for our evening meal."
The doctor started off, and the boys before following him went back to
where the two blacks were standing waiting, to gaze at them with half
questioning looks.
"Come along, Mak," cried Mark cheerily. "Come along, pigmy;" and he
made signs suggesting something to eat.--"Oh, it's all right again," he
said. "They don't mind now. Why, black Mak's face came out all in one
big smile."
"Yes," said Dean, "and the little Pig looked as if he would like to rub
his head against you just like the old Manor House cat when we had been
out."