BEYOND THE WHITE ROCK.
The grewsome work of burial completed, they reëntered the little fort
and made preparations for the night. First, they went to the river bank
and enjoyed a bath in the cool, crystal waters; and there for the first
time they discovered many bruises on their bodies, caused by bumps and
knocks received during the quick action of the afternoon.
Ferguson had scraped one of his shins while sliding down the rock after
emptying his rifle at the approaching Majeronas, and the cut on his left
hand pained him greatly. Hope-Jones found a black and blue spot on his
right shoulder, which he could not account for until he remembered that
in his excitement he had several times neglected to press his shot-gun
close when firing; and a little later he discovered that the lobe of his
right ear was torn.
“An arrow struck there,” said the captain, after examining the wound.
“You had as narrow an escape as had Harvey.”
Then the captain looked at his own physical condition and reported that
the tendons of his left ankle had been strained, and that a long powder
burn on his right cheek marked where a flash had sprung upward from an
imperfect cap on his old-fashioned rifle.
But of them all Harvey showed more marks of battle. A very painful black
and blue spot on his side told where the foot of the Majerona had struck
him after the drop from the rock, and two bruises on the back of the
head marked his contact with stones on the occasions of his falling. His
hands were scratched and torn in several places, but he could not tell
how these minor wounds had been received until the captain remarked that
he had never seen a brush-heap disappear so rapidly as when the boy
pulled away branches from the opening, to make room for the bomb; and
then the lad recalled that at the time he had felt the sharp prick of
thorns.
Although they were refreshed after the bath, they limped more or less on
their return to camp.
“Is that due to the fact that we have just seen where we have been
hurt?”
“Partly that and partly because the excitement is over,” said the
captain.
“It will be good to have a hot supper,” the elder American remarked,
changing the subject; “but I’ll be switched if I feel much like making a
fire and cooking.”
“What have we to cook, anyway? There’s not a bit of fresh meat in the
camp, and I’d rather go to bed hungry than hunt for anything,”
interposed Harvey.
“Go to bed?” queried Hope-Jones.
“Well, turn in, lie down, go to sleep, or whatever you call it; but it’s
going to be ‘go to bed’ for me, because I shall pile up some of that
dried moss over there and make a couch.”
“A good idea,” said the señor. “We will all do it. As for supper, I for
one propose to eat my last ration of dried meat and not try for any game
to-night.”
The others did not demur, and although the sun was not yet set, they
proceeded to bring in the moss and distribute it under the boughs that
had sheltered them from dropping arrows. But as the three adventurers
from Callao were spreading their blankets and kicking off their shoes,
Señor Cisneros interrupted them with, “Not so fast there! What about a
watch?”
“A watch to-night? Is one necessary?”
“Certainly, and every night, so long as we are in this region. The
Majeronas are probably gone for good, but some of them might return.
Yes, sirs, we will take our turns, above and below, as they say on
shipboard.”
“Who first?” asked Hope-Jones.
“Suppose we draw lots. Better still, let Harvey choose which watch he
will stand, as he is the one most used up, and we men will draw straws!”
Harvey decided that he would prefer to be sentinel from six till eight
o’clock, then have a night’s rest through, so the others lay down under
the shelter, and he stationed himself in the opening, near the river,
with Ferguson’s rifle in hand.
A heavy rain fell on the following day, and they were only too glad to
remain under the shelter of the boughs which, reënforced with the canvas
of the shelter-tent, made an almost perfect watershed. Harvey was
somewhat feverish in the morning, and the others felt even more wearied
than on the night before, so all were rather pleased than vexed that the
elements had conspired to delay their journey.
Lest the younger member of the party should fall ill, Señor Cisneros
early set about administering the remedies which were at hand, the first
of which was quinine, and he gave Harvey ten grains. Then, believing
that a hot foot-bath would prove beneficial, he cast about for a utensil
that could be improvised as a tub, and finding none, he dug a hole, two
feet deep and about two feet square, into which he poured water heated
by Hope-Jones over a brisk fire built in a corner of the fort, where a
ledge of rock sheltered the crackling wood from the rain. This novel
bath was at the edge of the lean-to of boughs, and when Harvey,
following the captain’s directions, plunged his lower limbs into it,
raindrops fell on his knees, but these and his body to the waist were
covered with moss, and the lad was compelled to stay in that posture for
ten minutes and “steam,” while the captain added hot water until the
patient yelled out that he was being scalded.
“I dare say you think you are,” said the Peruvian, as he desisted, “but
I can bear my hand in here.”
Notwithstanding a demonstration to this effect, Harvey protested against
the temperature being increased, and at last was permitted again to roll
over on his moss couch, where, covered with blankets, he soon fell
asleep.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon when he awakened. The fever had
passed, the aches had disappeared from the muscles, and he said that he
felt somewhat better, though a trifle weak. To prove there was at hand a
remedy for this condition, Señor Cisneros pointed to Ferguson, who was
busy in the far corner, turning ‘round and ‘round, over the glowing heat
of embers, the ramrod of the captain’s rifle, on which were spitted a
dozen little birds; and from the broilers came a savory odor that caused
Harvey to smack his lips in expectation.
“They are plovers,” said the señor. “Hope-Jones went out about ten
o’clock to find you a delicacy, and he succeeded in bagging enough for
us all.”
The wild birds, reënforced by one of the captain’s palm-shoot
vegetables, furnished a most edible repast, and it was not long
thereafter before Hope-Jones, Ferguson, and the youngest member of the
party turned in, the captain taking the first watch.
When Harvey awoke in the morning, he reported himself fit for any task,
and the others, having recovered from strains and bruises, agreed to
start as soon after breakfast as the packing of the camp equipment would
permit. Before the departure, Señor Cisneros fastened a pole firmly
between two of the rocks and attached thereto a handkerchief.
“It’s possible, though not probable, that hostile Indians may appear
again,” he said. “In that event it would be well for us to retreat to
this position, which is naturally fitted for defence, and which we have
rendered even more impregnable. As the boulders do not show their
peculiar form from down stream, we might pass the place by in our haste
to seek shelter, but with that flagstaff set I don’t believe we could
miss it.”
“Hadn’t we better give our little fort a name?” asked Harvey.
“To be sure we had,” said Ferguson. “Victory do?”
“I would suggest Majerona Hill,” said Hope-Jones.
“Would not Fort Pincushion be more appropriate?” asked the captain.
“Capital! Capital!” exclaimed the two men, and the boy blushed as he had
done on the occasion when he felt the object in his pocket which had
been pierced by the arrow.
Although the white rock, which had been their goal since leaving Callao,
had seemed only a short distance from the fort, yet they were nearly
half an hour reaching a point beneath its strange formation, and all
four expressed astonishment at the brilliant, pearly white lustre.
Ferguson was the first to touch the stone, and in passing his hand over
the surface, he noticed that his finger nail left a mark.
“My, how soft it is! Almost as soft as soapstone! Can you tell us, Mr.
Geologist, what manner of outcropping the Earth has given us here?”
Harvey, thus appealed to, took from his knapsack the little hammer which
he had brought for such purpose, and knocking off a fragment, he
examined it critically, then said:—
“It looks very much like alabaster.”
“Alabaster in these regions?”
“Yes, and it is not unusual. The stone is found near Cuzco, and it
abounds in the Cordilleras of Chile. To be sure, the best quality comes
from Tuscany, but excellent specimens abound in this interior region,
and we have found an unusually large deposit.”
“It seems to me that I perceive a faint odor of lime,” said Hope-Jones.
“Then I am correct in saying that this is alabaster,” the boy answered;
“for alabaster is a compact variety of sulphate of lime.”
“Now for the mine!” exclaimed Ferguson, and they at once turned from the
shaft and made ready to continue the journey.
“Old Huayno directed you to proceed farther north for a half mile, until
you should see another white rock, did he not?” asked the captain.
“Yes.”
“Then put your compass on something level, Hope-Jones, and give us the
bearings.”
The Englishman did so, and the needle pointed in a direction that took
them away from the stream, into the light growth of woods. They
tightened their belts and started, pushing forward rapidly and eagerly.
Months afterward Harvey said that no stage or event of the journey, not
even the encounter with the savages, was so firmly impressed on his mind
as was this period after they swung to the left from the bank of the
river Marañon.
“I had a stuffy feeling,” he explained; “all choked up, and didn’t know
whether I should cry like a baby when I reached the mine, or shout like
a man. I thought all the time of mother, father, Rosita, and Louis, of
what riches would do for them. Yes, to be sure, I thought of myself as
well, but to tell the honest truth, it was not so much with the idea of
having great riches at hand, as it was to be able to purchase some books
that I wanted, and a sail-boat.”
These thoughts of the boy were shared in their intensity by the other
members of the party. Hope-Jones had left an aged mother in England,
who, though not in want, would be none the less a sharer in any good
fortune that might come to her son; Ferguson built air-castles for his
sister, who was studying music in Boston, and who had written him only
by the last mail that she would be perfectly happy, could she but go
abroad. As for the captain, he had long wished that six months might be
passed in Lima and the remaining period of the year in their home in
Huari. Thus busied they said little or nothing during the first ten
minutes after leaving the Marañon, but kept on diligently, making as
much speed as was possible over the rough country.
Their speculating reveries were interrupted by the captain, who called a
halt for a conference.
“Your old Indian friend said something about trees having been felled
across the path from the river to the mine, did he not?”
“Yes.”
“Then it is about time for us to meet with them in quantity. There are a
few here and there, but not enough as yet to indicate that we have
reached the region where the Ayulis placed obstructions. Another matter
to consider is that a white rock hereabouts, although the timber is
sparse, would not be so readily seen as the pile of alabaster on the
river bank. And again, it must be remembered that the Ayulis did not use
a compass in determining the course of their journeys; they judged such
a direction to be north, and another south, by the relative bearing of
the sun. Therefore, although Huayno said to go north from the river, yet
his ‘north’ might have been northeast or northwest.”
“What then do you propose to do, sir?”
“I believe it would be wise to spread out. You, Hope-Jones and Harvey,
walk over to the right until you are within easy calling distance of one
another, and Ferguson and I will do the same on the left. We will then
move forward in a fan-shape and cover the country closely, watching out
for a white rock and for fallen trees that seem to have been felled
systematically. Everybody move slowly,” he added. “About like this,” and
he took several paces, to give them an example.
Fifteen minutes later not one was in sight of the other, and then they
commenced the slow forward journey, “beating the country,” one might
say, not for animals or birds, but for signs that a century before had
marked for the aborigines of Peru the place where great treasure lay
buried.
Harvey, between the captain and Hope-Jones, could hear the swish of the
latter’s walking-stick as he cut the plants through which he moved, but
not a sound came from his left. Occasionally a little animal darted from
a decayed log; or, with a whir, a bird, startled from the undergrowth,
would fly ahead, slanting upwards. But he saw nothing else. The trees
were not much nearer together than in an orchard. Of course they were
large of trunk and branch, and the shade was almost continual. Here and
there one had fallen, but the boy saw no signs of a number having been
felled by man. After fifteen minutes had passed he heard Hope-Jones
call: “Anything in sight, Harvey?”
“Nothing.” Then he repeated the question, turning to the left.
“Not a sight that is cheering, my boy,” was the captain’s answer.
The Peruvian’s voice was quite indistinct, and Harvey, believing he had
borne too far to the right, altered his direction somewhat. Then time
commenced to hang heavy, and the minutes dragged like hours as he moved
on, but ahead he saw an interminable succession of giant trees,
interspersed here and there with immense heliotrope bushes, but never a
rock of prominence or a number of trees felled as if to offer a bar to
progress. Finally there came a call that set his blood tingling.
“Come on, Harvey, and bring Hope-Jones with you!” shouted the captain.
The lad repeated the cheerful words, and soon the crackling of
underbrush announced the approach of the Englishman, who, panting from
his exertions, joined the boy, and then the two made equal haste to the
side of the Peruvian, who guided them by frequent shouts.
“What is it?” both asked.
“Ferguson has seen something and is waiting,” he answered, then called
out: “Give us a word, over there!”
A shout came in reply, and going in the direction of the sound, the
three made the most haste possible.
They found the elder American standing near a mass that resembled a
mound, and in every direction ahead of him were similar curious shapes.
“Don’t you think these have been formed by heaps of fallen trees,
covered in time with vegetation?” he inquired.
“You may be right. Here, lend me your pick-axe, Hope-Jones;” and taking
the tool the captain commenced vigorously to make an opening. The mound
yielded beneath the blows and proved to be little more than a mass of
foliage supported by soil that had been formed of dead timber. Within
were gray, shrivelled pieces of wood, some of which Harvey drew forth
and eagerly examined.
“Yes,” he exclaimed, “these are pieces of trees, almost fossilized.”
“Then we are in the right path,” said Hope-Jones. “But where is the
white rock?”
“That remains to be found. Let’s push onward,” said the captain.
As all the mounds seemed to be within reach of the eye on both sides,
and to extend in a line straight ahead, they continued their way
together and travelled through the strange land that spoke of the
Ayulis’ anger and the efforts of the aborigines to prevent their
treasure falling into the intruders’ hands.
Captain Cisneros remarked that the trees were not so tall as those they
had left behind, which, he said, was conclusive evidence that the
primeval growth had been cut down, and that this thin forest had sprung
into being since that day. It was noticed that the ground sloped
somewhat from both right and left; they were, in fact, in a little
valley, through which, as Ferguson remarked, a stream once flowed and
probably still flowed during the rainy season.
For nearly fifteen minutes they kept on, and then as suddenly as the
mounds had commenced, they came to an end, and beyond them the trees
were of ancient growth once more. They looked at one another
quizzically, as if to say: “We have passed the obstructions. Where is
the white rock that marks the mine?”
“We’ve missed it somehow,” said the captain. “Perhaps it’s to the right,
or the left. Hope-Jones, you and Harvey go around the mounds on one
side, and Ferguson and I will go on the other.”
They separated, as proposed, and carefully surveyed the country for the
landmark which meant fortunes to them. The two parties were an hour
making the detour, and when they met again at the point where Ferguson
had first called their attention to the curious earth formations,
neither had any encouraging report to make. All were puzzled. What could
it mean? Had old Huayno hoaxed them, and thus vented his wrath against
white men? The captain asked this question and was assured by both
Hope-Jones and Ferguson that they, who had known the old Indian, could
not entertain the thought for a minute. Could he have been mistaken
concerning the location of the second white rock? That was possible, but
where could they search for it, if not among these mounds? Huayno’s
estimate of distances had proved different from theirs; still the
general direction had been correct, and they had found all the landmarks
that he had named—all save the last and the most important.
While discussing what had better be done, they unstrapped their
knapsacks and ate the noonday meal, for the morning had passed. This
done, the captain said that he would keep on some distance in the
general direction they had followed since leaving the river, and while
he was gone the others could explore the mound region more thoroughly.
It was four o’clock when they met again, weary and discouraged, for not
one had seen aught that led him to believe they had located the mine.
“I thought I had the rock in sight once, boys, but it turned out to be a
tree with white blossoms,” said the captain.
As the shades were lengthening in the woods, the explorers turned back
to the river, and once arrived at the white rock on the bank, they
decided to camp there for the night and not walk to Fort Pincushion. So
they pitched the shelter-tent, built a fire and cooked some game which
they had killed on the return trip. Then, after arranging for the watch,
those who could “turn in” went to sleep immediately, for their brains
were fatigued by the disappointment, even as their bodies were by the
physical exertion.