A DISCOVERY AND AN ALARM.
They entered the forest the next day, and for a week were in its
confines, threading the right bank of the Marañon and following its
current.
The way along the river was easy to travel, when compared with the
seemingly impassable jungle to the right and the left of the stream, but
it was not without its difficulties, and many times they were compelled
to stop and cut the heavy growth of vines with the small axe which Señor
Cisneros had added to the outfit. At night they were bothered by
mosquitoes, and the insect plague became so great one evening that they
kept watch and watch, the one on duty throwing on the embers of the fire
a bark which emitted a light yellow smoke which drove the pests away.
Game was plentiful in this forest, and what with the flesh of
four-footed animals and birds, reënforced at times by fish caught in the
stream and the vegetables harvested by the Peruvian, they managed to
fare very well. But in other respects they were not treated so kindly.
Thorns tore their trousers and their coats, their shoes were wearing
out, and faces and hands became covered with scratches and bruises, the
latter caused by many falls, which it was impossible to avoid because of
the insecure footing.
In spite of this they were in the best of health; and as for their
clothing, they made good use each night of the needles and thread which
they had brought; and although some of the darns and patches were
curiosities to look upon, they served their purpose. Hope-Jones and
Ferguson had both been smooth-shaven while in the city, but by the time
they were a week from Huari, mustaches covered their upper lips and
light growths of beard were dependent from their chins.
“Nobody in Callao would know you,” said Harvey, one morning. “I never
saw such a change in persons.”
“How about yourself?” retorted Ferguson. “If you could but glance at
your own face in a mirror you would not say much.”
Somewhat later in the day the boy made use of a deep pool of water for
that purpose, and was surprised to see, peering up at him, features that
were copper-colored from sunburn and exposure to the elements. The
outdoor life at home had tanned him somewhat, but nothing in comparison
with this.
The weather, while they were in the forest, was dry and pleasant, but
the very day they emerged from its confines, a rain poured down that was
even heavier than that which had detained them twenty-four hours at
Huari. It commenced to fall as they were awakening, and descended in
such torrents that any thought of trying to pursue their way while it
lasted had to be abandoned. Their shelter-tent was fortunately pitched
on a slight elevation, beneath the branches of a large ironwood tree
which broke the force of the drops, or rather of the rain-sheets.
Señor Cisneros and Hope-Jones put on rubber coats and dug a shallow
trench around the canvas, making a channel toward the river, and for the
remainder of the day they sat in the little enclosure, except for a few
minutes when one or the other ventured forth for a “breath of fresh
air.” All wood in the vicinity was too wet for use as fuel; indeed,
there was no spot where they could build a fire, had they had dry
timber; so they were compelled to subsist upon smoked meat.
“This is Monday, is it not?” Harvey asked.
“Yes, and a decidedly blue Monday,” was the reply.
Toward evening they voted it the most miserable day of the journey, and
their only comfort came from the Peruvian, who assured them that the
heavy rains in that season seldom lasted for more than one day.
The rule held in this instance, and soon after dark the clouds were
driven away, the moon silvered the dripping trees and bushes, and the
travellers were able to emerge from under the canvas. By digging beneath
some leaves, they found dried, decayed wood, that served admirably for
fuel, and soon had a roaring blaze started, over which they cooked some
fish that Harvey had caught during the afternoon.
After leaving the dense forest behind, they followed the Marañon through
a much more open country. There were many trees, but they were not so
close together, nor were they so tangled with vines, and the undergrowth
also became thinner. This was due to a change in the soil, they having
passed from the region of black earth to a land that contained more
sand. It became quite rocky close to the river, and they were compelled
to make frequent detours from the bank because of the boulders through
which the stream passed.
One morning all became very much interested in witnessing a body of
foraging ants, to which their attention was called by Señor Cisneros.
“These little creatures can be seen only in South and Central America,”
he said, “and they have the reputation of being the wisest of all
antdom. Look how they are marching in regular phalanxes, with officers
in command!”
The diminutive black and gray army covered a space about three yards
square, and was moving from the river across the path.
“I will interrupt their progress,” said the Peruvian, “and we shall have
plenty of opportunity to observe them. Fetch me that pot full of water,
Harvey.”
While the lad was hastening to the river, he dug with one of the picks
until he had made a narrow channel about ten feet long, into which he
poured the water as soon as it was brought him, and just as the vanguard
of the ant army approached. The little soldiers halted on the edge of
this ditch, and from the sides and rear hurried ants that evidently were
officers.
“Now I shall give them a small bridge,” the señor said, “and if they
have the intelligence of a body that I observed about a month ago, they
will quickly make the footway broader and in a novel manner.”
Saying which, he cut a rather long twig, one that was narrow, but would
reach across the little trench, and this he placed in position.
Two of the ants hurried on the little span, then returned to the army.
They evidently gave some instructions, for two or three score of the
main body left the ranks, and hurrying on to the twig, swung themselves
from the sides in perfect line, until the passageway had been made three
times as broad as before. Then, at an order, the army commenced moving
over.
“Isn’t that wonderful!” exclaimed Hope-Jones.
“Indeed, yes. Many students of the ant rank him in intelligence next to
man. You will observe that the little fellows who are offering their
bodies as planks for the bridge are of a different color, and evidently
different species from the marchers, and that others of both kinds
constitute the main body.”
“Yes, that is so.”
“The little fellows are slaves.”
“Slaves?” echoed all three.
“Yes, slaves captured in battle, and made to do the masters’ bidding.”
“Do they always obey?”
“I have watched them many times and have never seen any sign of
rebellion. Frequently the superior ant, or the one who owns the slaves,
will remain perfectly still and direct the little servants. In that way
I saw a score of the slaves tug away at a dead bee, one day, and it was
perfectly plain that a larger ant that stood near by was giving orders.”
“You say they are called foraging ants?”
“Yes. They roam about in bands like this in search of food. They are
carnivorous and eat such insects as are unfortunate enough to be in
their path.”
The army was fully fifteen minutes crossing the living bridge, and when
the last company had passed, the slave ants detached themselves and
followed. But two or three, evidently exhausted by the strain, fell from
the twig into the river. No attention was given them; they were left to
drown.
“Did you notice that?” said the señor. “Now watch how differently
members of the superior class of ants are treated when in distress.”
He stepped ahead a few feet and drawing some of the larger species from
the main body with a stick, he covered them partly with gravel, until
only a leg or two were visible. At once several ants of the same species
stopped their march, and summoning a small body of slave ants, went to
the rescue. By butting with their heads and tugging away at the small
stones the slaves soon rescued the imprisoned masters, and all rejoined
the army, bringing up the rear.
“Bravo!” shouted Harvey, as if the little fellows could understand.
That afternoon the travellers fell to conversing of the old mine which
they expected to find. Not that it was an unusual subject for
conversation, for it was the topic most frequently broached; but the
talk this day was of special interest, because Señor Cisneros told them
minutely of the mining laws of Peru. Hope-Jones had expressed worry lest
foreigners would not be permitted to enjoy the results of discovery, but
his fears were set at rest by the Peruvian, who said:—
“Our mining laws have been greatly misunderstood in other countries, and
exaggerated reports concerning them have been sent broadcast. The
foreigner’s right to own what he finds, providing no one else has a
prior claim, has never been disputed. Recently it was made the subject
of special legislation. During the last session Congress passed a law
which, among other provisions, states that ‘Strangers can acquire and
work mines in all the territory of the Republic, enjoying all the rights
and remaining subject to all the obligations of the natives respecting
the property and the workings of the mines; but they cannot exercise
judicial functions in the government of the mines.’”
“What does that last clause mean, señor?” asked Hope-Jones.
“It has been interpreted to mean that the foreigner cannot hold the
position of mine superintendent, the object plainly being to prevent his
having active control of the natives who, of course, would be called in
to do the manual labor.”
“It is fortunate then that we have taken you with us,” said Ferguson.
“You will be able to act as superintendent, and we shall not have to
employ an outsider.”
“I should like nothing better; that is, providing we find the mine. But
are we not, as you say in the States, counting our chickens before they
are born?”
“Before they are hatched,” corrected Harvey, but not in a manner which
the señor could possibly take exception to—for that matter, he had asked
them many times to speak of his mistakes during the trip. “Oh, it’s fun
to do that,” continued the lad. “So I move that we have an election of
officers, and I place Mr. Hope-Jones in nomination for president.”
“I vote ay,” said Ferguson.
“And I also,” said the Peruvian.
“Of course _I_ do,” Harvey said. “And I nominate Mr. Ferguson for
treasurer.”
The others agreed as before.
“Let me propose Harvey Dartmoor for secretary,” said the señor, entering
into the spirit of the moment.
The choice was unanimous.
“And now,” Hope-Jones said, “we will name Señor Anton Cisneros
vice-president and general superintendent of all our properties.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the Peruvian, doffing his hat. “I only hope
the stockholders of the corporation will be of your mind.”
“The stockholders! How can they change our election?”
“You will have to sell stock in order to work the property, and those
who buy shares will have a right to vote.”
“Certainly. But cannot we hold the majority of shares?”
“I am glad to hear you say that. If we find anything nearly as valuable
as the old Indian claimed, it would be a pity to let the property pass
out of our control.”
“Tell us something more of the mining laws, won’t you?” asked Ferguson.
“In speaking of the recent enactment, you stated that ‘strangers should
be subject to all the obligations of natives.’ What does that mean? Is
the taxation heavy?”
“On the contrary, it is very light, just sufficient to meet the expenses
of the government mining bureau. The tax is fifteen dollars a year for
every mine,—gold, silver, nitrate of soda, salt, petroleum,—no matter
what it may be.”
“And how would we ‘prove a claim,’ as they say in the States?”
“Did you inquire in Lima whether any mines had been reserved in the
locality where we intend prospecting?”
“No, señor, for we did not wish to attract attention to that section of
the state.”
“You were doubtless right. It was perhaps unnecessary. In all
probability no one has sought treasure in that region. Still, that point
must first be definitely settled. The government issues a quarterly
statement, called the ‘padron,’ in which are given the boundaries of all
new claims. These padrons are indexed, and it is possible to learn the
location of all mines in a given region. If we discover valuable
properties where old Huayno said they were located, or anywhere else, we
will at once stake off the land, just as is done in the United States,
then return to Lima, examine the padron index, and if no one else has a
claim we will notify the Deputy Commissioner of Mining that we desire
title.
“He will issue us a document, upon our payment of the first year’s tax,
which will be similar to the ‘patent applied for’ paper given in the
United States. Within ninety days after receiving this, it will be
necessary to return to the mine with one of the officials of the mining
department and an official surveyor, whose expenses for the trip we
shall be compelled to meet. These will fix the actual boundaries, and
upon their return to Lima a document will be issued giving us the right
to mine the property, and guaranteeing our sole possession so long as we
pay the annual tax.”
“That all seems very simple,” said Harvey.
They had few adventures during this stage of the journey. Several times
wild animals crossed their paths, but the young men had learned wisdom
on the trip from Chicla to Huari, and Señor Cisneros was an old
woodsman, so they were always on the lookout. Game continued plentiful,
although the country grew more open each day.
The Marañon changed from a slow-running stream to a broad,
rapid-coursing river; in places were cataracts, and the shore line
became uneven, boulders being piled so high that the way between them
was difficult to find. In this rough country they were once all day
going three miles and were exhausted when night came. Harvey and
Ferguson had large blisters on their feet, and the other two proposed
that they rest for the twenty-four hours following; but the Americans
were too anxious to proceed, being so near the journey’s end, and the
next morning, binding pieces of a handkerchief around the bruised
places, they announced themselves able to push ahead.
This was the twelfth day from Huari, and all agreed that at any time
they might come upon the great rock that marked the way to the mine.
They were certain they had not passed it unobserved, for since the fifth
day from the village they had not moved a step forward after dusk or
until morning was well advanced. When compelled to make detours, one or
more of them had ascended every half hour to some eminence, like a tree
or a high mound, and had carefully surveyed the right bank to the
water’s edge.
Toward four o’clock on this day Hope-Jones and Harvey were walking
somewhat in advance of the others. The boy was limping slightly and was
in more pain than he would admit to his companion, who had urged him not
to go any further, to which Harvey had replied, “One more mile and then
I’ll give in.”
The lad was singing, to keep up his courage, and the words were those of
the familiar Sunday-school hymn:—
“Onward, Christian soldiers,
Marching as to war.”
Suddenly he stopped, gave a yell, and his face turned pale.
“What is it?” exclaimed Hope-Jones. “Are you hurt?”
“Look! Look! Look!” and the boy pointed straight ahead, between two
trees. There, bathed in sunlight, the Englishman saw that which made his
heart beat like a trip-hammer—a high boulder that shone as purest
marble.
“Hurrah!” he shouted, throwing his cap in the air. “Come on, everybody!
There’s the rock! There’s the great white rock!”
Ferguson and Señor Cisneros came up at a run.
“What? The rock?” they called.
“Yes. Look!” and the man pointed in the direction they had gazed.
That instant the Peruvian exclaimed excitedly: “Down with you! Drop
down, everybody! Down, flat on your stomachs!”
Startled by his commanding tones they obeyed.
“What is it?” asked Hope-Jones.
“Sh! In a whisper! Indians! A score of them! And they look like the
Majeronas!”