When Ruggles came within a few yards of the spot where the two watchers
stood, Will softly hailed him. He looked round in alarm, and made as
though to beat a summary retreat. Then, lifting his eyes and seeing
Will among the trees, he steered towards the bank, saying--
"It's you, is it? I say, do you happen to have a glass of beer?"
"No, I haven't."
"Perhaps it's as well, but I am powerful dry."
"I say, I am awfully glad to see you. Hold on! I'll come down and show
you the entrance to my garage. Are the others safe too?"
"Not that I know of. I wish they were. Where have you been
skylarking?"
"Skylarking! Good heavens! I've been worried out of my life. I'll
tell you all about it, but first tell me where the others are, and how
you came here."
The raft was drawn into the recess, and Ruggles was soon seated beside
Will in the hydroplane, eating bread and cheese, and sighing for his one
glass of beer and a pipe to follow.
"Not but what it's as well to do without 'em," he said. "If I began
life over again I'd avoid beer and tobacco; at least, I would if I
could. Well, the morning after you went there was a rare shindy, as you
may imagine, when they found your manger empty. They hauled us out and
questioned us, and General Carabano looked as if he could have made a
meal of us. O'Connor and I were as much surprised as he was, and wild
with the Chief for not telling us. However, the General got nothing out
of us, and within an hour we were put on horses and marched up-country
with a strong escort of those ruffians. Our hands were tied behind us,
and our horses were led, the escort being mounted too.
"I made out from what some of 'em said that their General was going to
make a dash on Bolivar, and didn't think we'd be safe at the hacienda.
He wanted all his men for the raid, you see, and intended to leave only
a few peons to look after the camp and the horses. He couldn't trust
them, of course, and I reckon we'd have got away pretty soon if he had
left us there. I didn't hear where they were taking us, and when I
asked the fellow who led my horse, he only grinned at me like an ape."
"O'Connor was mad, no doubt," said Will.
"You'd have thought so, wouldn't you? But he wasn't, a bit; or didn't
show it. He tried to crack jokes with his man, and it was amusing,
though not as he intended, for, as you know, his Spanish wouldn't cover
a half-sheet of note-paper. But all the time I could see he was looking
round for a chance of escape. However, I managed it, and so far as I
know, he didn't. In my case it was sheer luck. Most of the escort were
llaneros, fine fellows, too, as near gentlemen as any Venezuelan can be.
But the fellow who tied me up was a bumpkin, who made a bungle of the
job. I held my wrists so that by giving them a twist afterwards I could
loosen the knots: you know the trick."
"Rather! I should have thought O'Connor would have known it too."
"He may or may not. Anyway, we came to a part where the path had a
sheer cliff on the one side and a precipice on the other; a sort of
steep dell, you know, overgrown with trees and shrubs. The path was so
narrow that we had to go in single file, and, as luck would have it, I
came last, except one man riding free behind me. Just as we came to the
precipice I kind of saw there might be half a chance, so as my bumpkin
drew ahead of me--he'd lengthened the leading-rein--I managed to give
his horse accidentally a kick in the flank that rather upset his temper.
The fellow was in a fright; it looked a nasty drop to the left. Being
busy with his horse he dropped the leading-rein. I wrenched my hands
free, brought my horse round on his hind legs--for an instant his
forelegs were fairly dangling over the precipice--and then drove him
straight for the man behind, wedging in between him and the cliff.
"The path was narrow, as I said. There wasn't room for two, and as I'd
got the inside, the other fellow simply had to go over the precipice. He
went. There was plenty of green stuff to break his fall, and I don't
wish him any particular harm. You may guess I didn't wait to give him
my kind regards, but made off like the wind. The Chief gave me a cheer.
Before I turned the corner that would hide me from the rest,
half-a-dozen shots were flying after me, and one of them struck my
horse. But he kept on. I got safe to the end of the ledge, and then
dived into the forest, where they might have hunted for a month of
Sundays without finding me.
"I dismounted as soon as I was pretty safe, and led the horse, but the
poor beast was done, and dropped after a few miles. I didn't feel very
happy. You know what these forests are. Let alone the chance of losing
yourself, there are too many jaguars and pumas and snakes to make
travelling on foot very pleasant. All I'd got to defend myself with
was--what do you think?"
"What was it?"
"A two-bladed pen-knife, one blade broken, that had slipped into the
lining of my pocket and wasn't discovered when they searched us before
tying us up. It wouldn't have scared a toad. However, I've roughed it
all over the world too long to grizzle over what can't be helped. My
game clearly was to make for the Orinoco. All roads lead to Rome, they
say: it's certain that all streams in these parts lead to the Orinoco.
It struck me I'd be safest on water, so I made up my mind to stop at the
first stream I came to and build myself a raft. Floating down with the
current I couldn't fail to strike the Orinoco sooner or later."
"A queer thing, this raft of yours."
"It served my turn. You see, I was in a quandary. When I came to a
stream it was swarming with caymans, and, what's worse, watersnakes. I
dursn't make a raft in their company, and yet I must make it on the
brink of the stream, for I couldn't have carried down one big enough to
float me. There was plenty of material, of course--dead branches, and
bejuco for fastening them together. After a power of thought I hit on
the notion of rigging up a sort of cage in which I could make the raft
without the risk of having reptiles closer than I liked. I did that on
the bank out of range of the caymans--they're not partial to journeys on
land. I pushed the cage--it was light enough--down to the edge of the
stream, and brought down my materials, and put the raft together inside
the cage, where I was safe. It was a longish job. I had to push it out
into the stream bit by bit as I finished it, and was always in a stew
when I left it in case the current carried it away before I was ready.
However, the current was sluggish at the bank, so I was spared that
calamity."
"But how have you lived? It's four days since you went away."
"I've lived in this country long enough to know what forest plants are
good for food. Not that they're very staying, nor to be compared with
bread and cheese. I slept in trees, and here I am, thank God! though I
hadn't a notion I had got into this particular stream."
"How far away were you when you escaped?" asked Will.
"Thirty or forty miles at a guess. We marched all the first day and
bivouacked for the night at a deserted estancia. I made a bolt for it
about ten next morning, struck the stream in the afternoon, and got
together the material for the raft before nightfall. I finished it next
day, but had to spend another night in a tree, and the stream winds
about so much that it has taken me all day to get here."
"I'm glad you've come, but it's a bad look-out for the others. General
Carabano has threatened to shoot you all to-morrow if he doesn't receive
L7,000."
"The villain! He won't get it. I don't know what you think, but we're
not worth all that. How do you know?"
Will then related all that had happened to him since he left the
stables. When Ruggles heard of General Carabano's defeat he looked very
grave.
"He'll be in a beastly temper," he said. "You and the Chief have dished
him between you. He's not the man to have any mercy on folks who have
stood in his way, and if he hears that I've escaped he'll be madder than
ever. I don't fancy they'll let him know, though."
"But he'll find out when he sends the order to shoot you, if he doesn't
go himself. Time's up to-night. If he means what he says it'll be all
up to-morrow, unless we can do something. Do you think we could go up
in the hydroplane to the place where you struck the stream and then
track them across country?"
"I doubt whether we could do it. You see, I wandered about in the
forest, and it might take us a week to find the precipice, even with
your Indian."
"Did you follow a road when you went off?"
"Not so much as a bridle-path."
"Could we lie in wait for the General's messenger to-morrow?"
"We might do that. I know the main direction from the camp. But where
should be we if the General goes himself? He's pretty sure to, and of
course he would take an escort. We couldn't tackle a crowd."
"I've got a revolver."
"One revolver wouldn't be much good. You might bring down the General
and another, but then you'd be set on and done for. No: that's no good,
and I can't see for the life of me that we can do anything."
"But we must, Ruggles. Isn't there some way of finding out where the
Chief is?"
"You can go and ask the General, and then he'd raise his terms to
L12,000."
Will was silent. It seemed, as Ruggles said, that the case was
hopeless. For some time he sat thinking, thinking hard. Suddenly he
got up.
"Ruggles, I'm going to the hacienda."
"Nonsense! I didn't mean it," said the man.
"I shall go. I got into the house before; I'll do it again."
"But what if you do?"
"I might hear Carabano talking."
"And you might not. It was a pure fluke before: luck won't play into
your hands again."
"Wait a bit. There's Machado. Ten to one he'll be at his cabin
sometime to-night waiting for an answer. The General demanded a reply
by midnight. If we could only catch Machado we could wring out of him
where the Chief is, and I wouldn't stick at a trifle in dealing with the
wretch. He's the worst of the lot, playing the traitor in our camp, and
torturing Jose. He deserves to be paid back in his own coin. I'll do
it, Ruggles. It's a mercy you are here. I'll take Azito; you bring the
hydroplane down with Jose, and wait at the end of the canal in case we
have to dash for it. Once on board the hydroplane we might defy them
and chance snags."
"It's dangerous, but if you're set on it I'm not the man to stay you.
I've been in tight corners myself, and I'd stretch a good many points
for the Chief and O'Connor. But for any sake be careful. If they are
to be shot we can't alter it, and what's the good of three being
murdered instead of two?"
"All right. I won't run my head into a noose if I can help it. I'll
start just before dark. You'll take care how you go down, won't you? It
would be a disaster if you were wrecked."
"Trust me, Mr. Pentelow. I hope you'll have as easy a job as I shall."
In half-an-hour Will set off with Azito. They went, as they had gone in
the morning, across the old camp to the farther side of the railway
line, but instead of plunging into the forest, ventured to steal along
at the foot of the embankment. It was pitch dark by the time they
arrived opposite the new camp. Crawling up the embankment, they lay on
the top to take a good look around before going farther. There were
fires in the camp, but these were beginning to die down: apparently the
men had already cooked their evening meal. They could see the dark
forms of the sentries as they passed between the tents. The house was
lit up.
They crept along the embankment until they came to the spot below which,
about twenty yards from the line, stood the telegraph cabin. Will told
Azito to go forward until he could see the side in which the window was.
In a few minutes the Indian returned and reported that there was no
light in the cabin. Will supposed that he had come too early: the
message was not expected before midnight. Yet it was strange that a man
had not been left at the cabin to give Machado notice if any
communication was made. It was strange, indeed, that Machado himself,
considering the importance of the expected message, had not thought it
worth while, or been ordered by the General, to remain constantly on
duty. Will was so much surprised that he determined to creep down to
the cabin and see for himself. Perhaps Machado might be taking a nap in
the dark. If he were not there, Will thought it possible to remain in
hiding between the cabin and the line, seize Machado when he arrived,
and wring out of him the information he desired.
Bidding Azito remain on guard and warn him if he saw any sign of danger,
Will descended the embankment on hands and heels and stole forward to
the cabin. He listened at the wall. There was no sound from within.
The door faced the hacienda. Will peeped round the corner. The nearest
tents were at least a hundred yards distant, and the fires were so low
that they seemed to make the darkness only the more intense where their
light did not directly fall. He crept round to the door, noiselessly
lifted the latch, and, listening with his heart in his mouth, stepped
in. It was pitch dark. There was not a sound. Grasping his revolver,
he moved forward on tip-toe. He remembered clearly the position of the
table and chair, and groped towards them, putting out his feet
stealthily so that he should not knock against them and make a noise.
The table and chair were not where they had been. He touched the wall,
and moved along inch by inch. To his amazement, the cabin was bare.
Table, chair, telegraph instrument--all had been removed.
What could be the meaning of this? Moving now without such extreme
care, Will passed out again and looked up to see if the wire still ran
into the cabin. He could just distinguish it against the starlit sky.
He crept back towards the embankment, following the wire to the place
where it left the telegraph line; and then he saw that another wire had
been connected, and ran across the gardens. Evidently after what had
happened at the cabin, General Carabano had taken the precaution of
removing the instrument. Will peered into the darkness to see if the
wire entered a tent or another cabin, but after a few yards he lost
sight of it. Returning to the spot where he had left Azito, he asked
him if he, with his sharper sight, could follow the course of the wire.
The Indian stood looking for a few seconds: then he said that he saw a
pole about thirty yards from the house. It had not been there before.
He went a few yards farther along the embankment, and declared that the
wire stretched from the pole to the house, where it ran through one of
the windows in a room at the side just behind the servants' quarters.
The window was half-closed, and within the room was a light. Will could
no longer doubt that this was the place where Machado was awaiting the
message from Bolivar.
Difficult as Will had known his task to be, it now seemed impossible. On
the former occasion of his nocturnal visit to the house the camp was
half-a-mile distant. Now the tents formed the arc of a circle about it,
the nearest of them being not more than a dozen yards away. Only
through the camp could the house be approached. Sounds of laughter and
conversation could be distinctly heard: it was clear that the men were
as yet very lively. Even had they turned in for the night there were
still the sentries to elude. But when Will thought of Machado sitting
at his instrument in that little room, almost within stone's throw of
him, he could not bring himself to give up all hope of helping his
friends. Five minutes with Machado, unless he had entirely mistaken his
man, would be enough to wring out of him the information he so earnestly
desired. Failing that information, he felt that the Chief and Jerry
O'Connor were doomed. Was there not, even now, a chance?
He resolved to wait. Nothing could be attempted while the camp was
still awake. Perhaps when the men had gone into their tents for the
night an opportunity for slipping past the sentries might offer. So he
lay down on the embankment, with Azito beside him, to keep vigil.
Waiting is always tedious, and Will's impatience was such that he found
the enforced delay almost unendurable. It was too dark for him to see
his watch, and he durst not strike a light. The fires sank lower and
lower, but it seemed hours before there was any sensible diminution of
the sounds in the camp. It was, in fact, nearly half-past ten before
silence reigned and Will thought it possible to leave his post. Bidding
Azito in a whisper to follow him, he crawled down the embankment with
great caution, so as not to disturb a single stone or clod of earth, and
stole as softly as a cat to the part of the encampment nearest to the
house.
When within a few yards of the tents, he lay on the ground to watch his
opportunity. He could just see the dark form of the sentry passing to
and fro beyond the line of tents. The man's beat appeared to extend for
about fifty yards, and at the end of it farthest from the house he
stopped to talk to the sentry next him. Will heard the low hum of their
voices. All was quiet within the house. To get into it he must pass
the lighted window of Machado's room. The sentries were bound to see
him. What could he do?
He lay for some minutes in sheer perplexity. The sentry passed more
than once. Suddenly he made up his mind to a desperate venture. The
room next to Machado's was in darkness. It was, he knew, a cloak-room.
There was a door between them. He would enter the enclosure boldly
between the nearest tent and the house, when the sentries were next
engaged in chatting. They would never dream that an unauthorized person
had dared to come into the very jaws of the lion. There were many
Indians among General Carabano's men, so that the sight of Azito would
not necessarily alarm the sentries. He would walk with Azito openly
along the back of the house, get beneath the veranda, where it was even
darker than in the camp enclosure, and by hook or by crook find an
entrance.
He explained his plan softly to Azito. The Indian was timorous, but
after a few moments' thought he agreed to accompany his master. They
crawled to the right until they came just behind the last tent of the
line, and waited until they heard the low hum of the sentries' voices.
Then they stepped round the tent, and walked slowly towards the house.
Will's heart was thumping violently, but he walked steadily on until he
reached the steps leading up to the veranda. He saw with joy as he
passed the lighted window that a thin curtain hung across it. The
sentries gave no sign. He mounted the steps, Azito close behind, and
stood by the window of the room next to Machado's. He waited for a
moment, then gently tried the latch of the French window. It was not
secured. He opened the door, and they stepped noiselessly in.