vigorously--vigorously, at least, as compared to her usual manner of
taking things. She complained that guarding the baggage in a strange
country, where it was impossible to make even her simplest wants
intelligible, was not the sort of thing she was there for. But she could
not turn Una from her purpose; nor was it any easier, once his consent
was given, to move Leighton to a reconsideration of the matter. Only
one thing was left for her to do. If she wished to keep within reach of
Una she would have to accompany her on the expedition--"the picnic,"
as Leighton grimly called it. She hated to do this, but, as solicitude
for Una was stronger than concern for her own safety, she had ended by
tremblingly begging to be of the party.
"Let her come," said Miranda derisively. "It will not be for long time."
So Mrs. Quayle, much as she hated adventures, got what she wanted.
Early next morning, mounted on mules and carrying their supply of
provisions neatly packed in hampers, they reached Lake Guatavita.
Judging by appearances, one would say that they were after nothing
more serious than a day's outing. The air was crisp and sparkling, of
that crystal clearness peculiar to Andean altitudes. The lake laughed
in the sunlight; whatever there was of gloomy legend connected with it
slumbered beneath its silvery surface. Even the timorous felt the joy
of the place and indulged in hopes of high adventure. Miranda was in
the best of humor; Leighton, although maintaining his reserve, relaxed
something of his usual severity; while the rest of the party was in high
spirits, showing scarcely anything of the mental and physical strain to
which they had been subjected during the last twenty-four hours. Only
Una appeared anxious. Raoul Arthur, the more she saw of him, disquieted
her. She disliked him intensely, she could not tell exactly why. He was
assiduous in his regard for her comfort, but, in spite of his outward
friendliness, she was haunted by certain hints that had come to her from
David, hints that made of Raoul, in some inexplicable way, an active
enemy to the man she loved. She was suspicious of him. His presence on
the expedition that had David's rescue for its purpose made her twist
everything he did into something treacherous, of danger to all of them.
Her uncle, apparently, did not share her feeling. On the contrary,
he seemed to rely more and more on Raoul for advice and direction in
carrying out the project upon which he was engaged, and thus there grew
up between the two men a confidence that Una, had she tried, would have
been unable to shake.
Andrew, of course, still smarting from the experience of two days
before, could not be expected to make so speedy a return to the scene of
his adventure without some trepidation. But whatever sensations thrilled
his susceptible heart, he put on a brave front and did not flinch from
the part he was expected to take in the expedition. There was that
dreadful lake, there the wall of rock he had described, and there the
inconspicuous opening to the tunnel from whose hidden dangers he had
been so mysteriously rescued--he faced it all and braced himself for the
inevitable explanations. But his knowledge of the place was far less
than Raoul's.
"It was through this opening to Mr. Parmelee's tunnel that we entered
upon the excavation by which we hoped to drain the lake three years
ago," he remarked.
From an engineering point of view the statement was mystifying because
the opening of the tunnel was almost on a level with the surface of
the lake. Thus, it was difficult to see what would have been gained
had the waters of the latter been diverted into the tunnel. It was
explained, however, that an intersecting tunnel at a very much lower
level furnished the desired outlet, and the miners had planned to
connect with this. As Leighton and the rest were not concerned in these
bygone matters, the abortive attempts of the mining company to use this
subterranean passage in the mountain was not traced out in detail. Time
was urgent; there was no telling how long they might be in the tunnel.
If they wanted to avoid making a night of it they would have to hurry.
Unloading the mules, therefore, of their provisions, and leaving these
melancholy animals in the care of two peons who had come with them from
Bogota, the picnickers equipped themselves for their adventure--that
is, they fastened the miners' lamps to their hats. In the case of the
men this was not difficult. But Mrs. Quayle's extraordinary headgear,
architecturally deceptive and insecure, proved so hopelessly difficult
that its estimable owner was forced to do without the adornment of tin
and kerosene provided for her. The more stable bit of millinery worn by
Una was tractable enough, and with her lamp attached firmly to her gray
felt hat she looked the part she expected to play.
The opening to the tunnel was much as Andrew had described it, an
inconspicuous, narrow rift at the base of a great wall of rock. In
nine cases out of ten it would pass unnoticed; so small an aperture,
concealed by bushes and trailing vines, was safe from the most
inquisitive travelers. That so timid a person as the schoolmaster had
discovered (no one took seriously his tale of the togaed and sandaled
stranger) and forced his way through this opening caused no end of
wonder. To accomplish the same feat drew forth many a groan from the
corpulent Leighton and Miranda. As for Mrs. Quayle, what with the
squeezing and tugging needed to gain an entrance into the region of
terrors beyond, and anxiety lest some of her jewelry might be lost in
such strenuous effort, that good lady came dangerously near a condition
of hopeless panic. Undoubtedly she would have abandoned the expedition
then and there had it not been for the jeers of Miranda who assured
her she was developing symptoms that called for a generous dose of his
infallible pills. Such a goad would electrify the stubbornest of mules
and a series of desperate struggles brought Mrs. Quayle victoriously
through the tunnel's entrance.
This first step in their subterranean travels surmounted, the explorers,
having lighted their lamps, found themselves in a spacious rock
chamber, the walls of which rose above them to a majestic height.
Andrew, especially, was amazed at what he saw, declaring that it was all
quite different from his first experience in the same place. When it was
remembered, however, that on this former occasion the schoolmaster had
only the feeble glimmer of light that found its way through the opening
of the cave to show him where he was, the difference between his two
impressions was not surprising. But it puzzled his companions to choose
the route they were to follow in their explorations. Here Andrew could
not help them. Two passages were discovered leading from the chamber
in which they stood. One went straight ahead, offering a fairly easy,
unobstructed path to the explorer. The other, a branch from the main
tunnel, was narrow, strewn with debris of fallen rock, and altogether
forbidding in the glimpse that could be had of the first few hundred
feet of its course. One feature, however, belonging to this smaller
tunnel gave it the preference. But before discovering this feature and
making their choice the explorers thought it best to inform themselves,
as well as they could, of the character of the cave itself. In this
Leighton naturally took the lead, and from his investigations it was
concluded that, unlike other caves, the origin of the Guatavita cave was
primarily volcanic and due only secondarily to the action of water.
The implement employed by Nature in fashioning her underground
caverns is usually water. Some mighty spring, deep within the earth's
bosom, seeks an outlet for its accumulating current. It forces its
way through whatever porous layer of rock comes in its path, and by
persistent action, occupying ages of time, disintegrates and destroys
it altogether. There is left, as a result of the subterranean stream's
activity, a series of tunnels, widening out oftentimes into great rock
chambers, and extending, in several well known instances, for many
miles. Wherever water is the sole architect the lines that it carves,
the forms it molds, are smooth, well-rounded; there are no jagged edges,
sharp angles in the fairy palaces and intricate labyrinths that it
leaves as specimens of its artistic method. The walls of the Guatavita
tunnel, however, were eloquent of a totally different force employed in
their making. The marks of an angry Titan were upon them; the Titan of
Fire. They told of an elemental tragedy, swift and cataclysmic in its
action. The deep scars in their surfaces, the rough crags and pinnacles
jutting from them, were the epic characters in which the monster's
struggle for freedom were written down for all posterity to study and
wonder at.
Thus, Leighton did not hesitate to attribute an igneous origin to
the cave, and it was after a close examination of the earth and
pebble-strewn floor that the smaller tunnel was chosen as the best
for exploration. There were footprints in both tunnels, but in this
one they were more numerous than in the other, where they had been
made, according to Raoul, at the time dynamite had been used in the
excavations. Comparing these footprints, those in the larger tunnel
were evidently from ordinary shoes, while in the smaller they bore the
impress of sandals.
"Andrew's man in the toga is the one we want," remarked Leighton, a
decision that added to Mrs. Quayle's agitation and did not appear to
increase the schoolmaster's desire for adventure. The discovery of the
imprint of sandaled feet, however, changed Doctor Miranda's attitude
toward Andrew from banter almost to admiration.
"It is true, what he say, this leetle fellow," he declared in
astonishment. "He follow him here, the sandals--and he is alone. He is
brave man, this Parmelee!"
Raoul remained silent and Herran shrugged his shoulders skeptically.
After all, it was difficult to believe, on the strength of a mere
footprint, that the singular being described by the schoolmaster
actually existed and had disappeared, like some wraith, in the depths of
the cave.
"That will be a hard path to follow," said Raoul finally. "I tried
it--once."
"What did you find?"
"Nothing--a dead wall."
"Mercy!" ejaculated Mrs. Quayle, not catching his meaning.
"There was no danger that I could see," continued Raoul; "but there was
hard traveling, and no result worth the effort."
"Did you notice these footprints when you were here before?"
"It was the footprints that led me on."
"I don't see your footprints here. All these marks are from sandaled
feet," retorted Leighton.
The discovery did not attract attention. It seemed of slight
significance to the others; but the savant continued his examination
of the ground with redoubled interest. Raoul also showed astonishment
at the fact pointed out to him, and at first offered no explanation.
Obviously, a footprint in a cave, not subject to effacement by wind or
weather, should remain indefinitely, unless destroyed by man or animal.
But, curiously enough, the sandal prints were not sufficiently numerous
to stamp out all vestige of the prints that must have been made by
Raoul in his coming and going through the tunnel--if Raoul had really
ever been in this tunnel. So Leighton argued, and the conclusion that
Raoul had not been there at all seemed logical. Had he deliberately
deceived them--a supposition for which there appeared no motive--or was
he himself mistaken in the course he had pursued in his exploration some
years ago?
"Well, there it is," laughed Raoul. "Your reasoning is sound. My
footprints ought to be here, but they aren't. I can't explain it."
"It is not worth while," exclaimed Miranda impatiently, adding not over
lucidly, "they take them away."
"Perhaps Mr. Arthur wore sandals," suggested Andrew, illuminated by a
brilliant idea.
"Whatever happened, Uncle Harold," said Una, who had ventured into the
tunnel some distance ahead of the others, "what difference does it make
now? We are losing time from our search--from your picnic, Mrs. Quayle!"
"Picnic!" she shuddered. "How can we picnic with dead walls and
mysterious footprints all around us?"
"Good!" exclaimed Miranda in response to Una's appeal. "The womens
always are captains--the mens must follow!"
There being no objection to this way of putting it, Leighton and Raoul
gave up the puzzle of the footprints and set out seriously to explore
the tunnel.
They soon found, as Raoul said, that traveling here had its
difficulties. Huge boulders that took some little dexterity and
sureness of foot to get over obstructed the narrow passage. For Una,
who showed surprising agility, such impediments were not disconcerting;
but Mrs. Quayle found them not at all to her liking. Progress with
that bewildered lady was necessarily slow and, in some unusually rough
places, had to be made by a system of shoving from behind and hauling
from above that kept her in a state of breathless agitation. This was
increased by imaginary terrors, chief among which was the constant dread
of meeting the apparition described by Andrew, whose story had made a
deep impression on her mind.
As a matter of fact Andrew's man in the toga was not in evidence,
except as the occasional imprint of a sandal on the floor of the cave
suggested him. But the explorers were too busy surmounting the obstacles
with which the tunnel was strewn to heed details that otherwise might
have arrested their attention. The sharp edges of the rocky wall played
havoc with their clothing, drawing from Miranda, incensed at his own
rotundity, a choice series of expletives--fortunately in Spanish--and
arousing the wrath even of Mrs. Quayle. After the first five hundred
yards, however, the passage widened sufficiently for them to look about
and take account of the perils--if there were any--facing them.
The endless vista of rock, hewn in every conceivable shape and lighted
dimly by the rays from their lamps, was dispiriting, to say the least.
With the passing of the tunnel, however, and its alarming sense of
premature entombment, even Mrs. Quayle experienced a faint return of
confidence, while the schoolmaster, her companion in misery, began to
feel a mild curiosity in the outcome of an adventure for the undertaking
of which he had been the unwilling cause. He wondered vaguely to what
further depths of this hole in the mountain the more enterprising
spirits of the party would lead them.
"I am sure I never came as far as this," he protested.
"Well, what of that?" demanded Leighton.
"He say he never come here!" crowed Miranda. "Very well, my leetle
fellow, you are here now."
"Yes, but--how far will we go?" he persisted.
"You remember nothing of this?" asked Raoul.
"I--I rather think I stopped in the beginning of the tunnel."
"But here are the footprints," said Una eagerly.
"They are made by sandals. I never wear sandals," said Andrew sadly.
"Of course. They make by the other fellow."
"By that man who wears a toga?" asked Mrs. Quayle anxiously. "It would
be awful to meet him in this place."
"She is afraid, this old lady--she have nerves!" announced Miranda. "She
better go back."
There being sound sense in the observation, the others stopped to
consider it.
"I could never find my way alone through that tunnel," declared Mrs.
Quayle.
As this was quite obvious, something had to be done. No one wished to
desert the unfortunate lady; at the same time all, with the exception
of Andrew, were anxious to press on without delay. Miranda, in terse
Spanish, explained the difficulty to General Herran, who shrugged his
shoulders disgustedly, expressing emphatic disapproval of women as
explorers.
"We must do something before we go any further," said Raoul. "There may
be a long journey ahead of us."
"Do you expect it?" asked Leighton.
"I have no idea where we are."
"That means----"
"We have passed the dead wall."
"Merciful heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Quayle, "we are lost!"
"Hardly that," said Una reassuringly. "It will be easy to go back the
way we came. But this cave is too delightful to leave. I never breathed
such air."
There was ample warrant for Una's enthusiasm. From the stifling
atmosphere of the tunnel the explorers had entered a great rock
chamber that widened as they advanced, opening up vistas of majestic
spaciousness that contrasted strangely with the straitened path they
had first followed. Overhead the outlines of a vast arching roof could
be dimly made out by the flickering light from the lamps. At either
side the dusky walls, with their flanking pinnacles and fantastic
gargoyles, suggested the ornate escarpment of some Gothic cathedral.
More noticeable even than these architectural features, was the
delightful atmosphere, mild, fragrant, invigorating, pervading the great
silent spaces. Usually the air in the famous caves familiar to tourists,
although pure enough, is chilly and damp, so much so that the explorer
is forced to exercise in order to keep warm. Here, on the contrary,
one enjoyed the temperature of a perfect day in early summer--a fact
that had called forth Una's praise, and was silently noted by Harold
Leighton as one of the novel features of the Guatavita cave.
"Of course we must go on," Leighton decided impatiently. "If Mrs. Quayle
is nervous, she had better wait for us outside."
"Perhaps I will be only in the way here," said that lady contritely.
"But what will you do without me, Una?"
"I will take her," interposed Miranda in a chivalric outburst. "Come!"
he added, turning unceremoniously to retrace his steps to the opening of
the tunnel, a point that could not be far away, although not near enough
to be revealed by the light thrown from their lamps.
In spite of the extended area of the subterranean chamber in which they
were standing, it was easy to return to the tunnel by simply retracing
the path they were on. This path was marked by a depression in the
uneven rocky floor across which it was laid. It was fairly smooth
and overspread by a fine sand that bore the impress of many sandaled
feet. There was no danger of losing one's way, and the energetic
doctor, hurried along so as to spend the least possible time on his
self-appointed mission. He did not notice that the terrified Mrs.
Quayle, convinced that his invitation concealed a plot to rob her of
her jewels, failed to accompany him. The others, amused at his abrupt
departure, patiently awaited his return, watching the speck of light
made by his lamp bobbing about in the distance. Presently the light
disappeared, and they concluded that Miranda had entered the tunnel. But
in this they were mistaken. In a few minutes they were startled by an
explosive "Caramba!" followed shortly by the apparition of the doctor
running towards them, breathless from his exertions, and exploding with
mingled wrath and consternation.
"It has gone--lost! I cannot find him!" he shouted in an incoherent
torrent of Spanish and English.
"What has gone?" demanded Leighton.
"We are lost! We are lost! The tunnel has gone!"
"Nonsense!"
"It is true! I go there. I not lie. I find the tunnel where we come--and
it has gone!"
"Impossible! What did you find?"
"I not find it. It is true! I find there what this fellow say," he
replied, turning savagely on Raoul. "It is--what you call?--one dead
wall!"
XIII
MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD
Miranda was not dreaming--the tunnel had vanished. That may be a strong
word for it; but anyway, whatever had happened, the tunnel was not to be
found.
Returning by the path upon which they had entered the subterranean
chamber, they were confronted by a wall of rock where the entrance to
the tunnel should have been. They were perfectly certain that when they
passed out of the tunnel, less than half an hour before, into the main
body of the cave, this wall had not been there. Where it had come from,
why they had not seen it before, were posers too puzzling to waste time
over. No one had seen it, of that they were certain; and they couldn't
have helped seeing it if it had been there. Hence they were forced to
the astonishing conclusion that this wall had moved into its present
position during the last half hour through some invisible, superhuman
agency. The whole thing, in fact, was incomprehensible, ridiculous,
absurd. But there it was, for all that--and it had its depressing
consequences.
"You know that crocodile on the river," said Miranda impressively; "he
open the mouth--the bird walk in. He shut the mouth--the bird is in one
trap. So it is to us."
Terrified by this picture of what had happened, Mrs. Quayle
involuntarily clutched the jewels encircling her neck as if to protect
them from some invisible brigand. The schoolmaster, also, seemed to
suffer additional discomfort. Miranda's way of putting it, however,
failed to satisfy the others. Leighton stoutly refused to believe in
magic. Herran, in voluble Spanish, insisted that magic alone could
explain the affair. Miranda repeated his alligator theory.
"This cave is alive," he added. "You see the mark of the feets?"
"Where is Mr. Arthur?" suddenly asked Una.
They had been so absorbed in the mystery of the vanishing tunnel that
the absence of one of their number had not been noticed. Una's startled
query brought them face to face with another puzzle, as baffling and
uncanny, in a way, as the wall of rock that had come from nowhere and
planted itself between them and the entrance to the cave. Raoul had
disappeared; search as they might, call as loudly as they could, no
trace of him was to be found. Had he deliberately deserted them, or
had he suddenly been spirited away by the same invisible agency that
had prevented their leaving the cave? The more credulous of the party
believed he had been spirited away.
"But it is impossible," insisted Miranda angrily. "I see him now--and
now he is not here. The canaille!"
"There is only one thing to be done," declared Leighton emphatically.
"We can't get out of here; we must go on."
"Yes! Yes!" exclaimed Una.
"Caramba! What for we go on?" remonstrated Miranda. "We are lost, we
starve, if we leave this place."
"You mean, we are lost if we stay here," reasoned Leighton. "There is
nothing to be gained by staring at this rock. The fact that Arthur has
disappeared, that the entrance to the tunnel has been closed, that there
are fresh footprints besides our own all about us, proves that this cave
is inhabited. Whoever they are, we must find these people."
Leighton's way of putting things was effective. It at least prevented
a panic. Even Miranda admitted the necessity of the course proposed by
the savant, and as Herran had nothing else to offer in its place, it was
decided to press on with the exploration of the cave without delay.
Fortunately, they had a fair amount of provisions and enough oil to
keep their lamps going for several days. Before starting on their
expedition--when it promised to be nothing more than a "picnic"--this
supply of food and fuel seemed far beyond any possible need. Now, thanks
to the fussiness of Mrs. Quayle, who had insisted on these abundant
preparations, there was no immediate danger of starvation. Each carried
his or her portion of food in a light, capacious sack. These sacks,
woven by the natives from vegetable fiber, swung easily from the
shoulders. The oil for the lamps was in two cans, one of which Andrew
carried, Raoul the other. Whatever had become of Raoul, his can of oil
had not disappeared with him. It was found near the spot in the large
cave where Miranda had turned back to take Mrs. Quayle to the tunnel.
Here, then, Raoul had left them. Hoping for a clew, they examined the
ground for his footprints, but could discover nothing. The path beyond
showed the impress of sandaled feet only--and Raoul, they agreed, did
not wear sandals. Either he had left the path and chosen the rocky floor
of the cavern in its stead--in which case it would be impossible to
discover his trail--or he had followed them to the tunnel and gone off
on one of the side tracks that they had noticed and partially explored
there. Why he should have done either of these things was quite beyond
them to answer. At any rate, they tried every means to find him, and
their failure left them more despondent than ever. All except Leighton
and Una.