their exploration they would solve the mystery of the cave, gain tidings
of David, and run down Raoul. Una shared his optimistic view, and both
chafed at the reluctance of their companions to go ahead with the energy
their plight demanded. The fact is, the feeling that they were caught in
a cavern of unknown extent, connected with certain mysterious happenings
in the immediate past, mixed up in the legendary history of a vanished
race, and inhabited even now by strange beings in outlandish costumes,
had a blighting effect upon them. Mrs. Quayle refused to be comforted
and, as it was out of the question to go on without her, Leighton, like
an astute general, proposed having lunch before doing anything else.
Every one brightened up at the idea; it was one of those masterstrokes
of policy that, when all else fails, saves the day. Miranda declared
emphatically that food was "good for the estomach," and, as no one
thought otherwise, they fell to with an appetite sharpened by their
exertions and made fairly razor-like--although this they did not
realize--by the bracing atmosphere of the cave.
There were bollos of corn and yucca--yellow, white, brown--variously
flavored, soggy, solid. This was a concentrated food that just hit the
need of a party of marooned picknickers. And there were large flat
disks of cassava, a native bread that Mrs. Quayle declared, with some
reason, resembled chips of wood, more than anything else, in taste and
toughness. This, too, furnished the maximum of nourishment in a small
space. These foods, with such fruits as the almond-like sapoti, the
juicy nispera, the delicate chirimoyo, furnished a meal that aroused
Miranda's enthusiasm, although to the untrained New England palate it
was not quite so satisfying as it might be. The thought, too, that after
this supply of food was exhausted, there would be nothing to eat, and
no way of getting anything to eat, spoiled just that part of the picnic
that should be most enjoyable. And then, worse than all, unthought of
until now, there was the appalling problem of--water. In the lunch bags
of Doctor Miranda and General Herran there were two small bottles of
red wine; but when this was offered to Mrs. Quayle that unhappy lady's
thirst for water reached an acute stage. She declared that all wine was
poison, and that she would die if she couldn't get a drink of water.
Even Leighton was disturbed. Water they must have, but--did it exist in
a cave that was, apparently, caused by fire and not--as all respectable
caves are--by water?
"Guatavita!" exclaimed Miranda, smacking his lips after a deep draught
of claret.
"Guatavita!" echoed Leighton irritably. "Why not say the river
Magdalena? How are we to reach Guatavita?"
"It is near," was the complacent reply. "It come into the cave."
"How do you know that?"
"Always there is water in the cave. And here--there is the lake
outside."
"Yes, outside," said Leighton bitterly.
"But first it is inside."
Miranda's confident assertion was worth considering. That there might
be--that there probably was--some subterranean connection between
the cave and the lake--even if the former did come from fire--was a
plausible theory. As he went over the matter in his own mind, Leighton's
respect for Miranda's common sense jumped from zero to a comparatively
high figure. But he was not convinced.
"You forget; we are above the level of the lake," he argued.
"That is true," agreed the doctor, who, in the meantime, bottle in
hand, had been nervously walking about, peering into the darkness that
surrounded them. "Yes, that is true. We come in over there; and always
we walk up, up. The lake is always below. This path it never go down.
But here--aha! Caramba!--is one other path--and it go down."
Miranda's voice shrilled with excitement. He was elated with the
importance of his discovery. And it was important. The spot they had
chosen for their lunch was the furthest point they had reached in their
explorations, the point where Miranda had turned back to take Mrs.
Quayle out of the cave and where they had last seen Raoul Arthur. It was
marked by a huge pyramidal rock rising from the floor of the cave. Along
one side of this rock the path they had followed went on indefinitely,
in a gradual upward incline. It was to the other side that Miranda
eagerly called attention. Placing his bottle of claret down on the rock
beside him, he got on his knees and, with his nose almost touching the
ground, made a minute study of the floor of the cave.
Even Andrew felt the contagion of the doctor's excitement. Fruits,
bollos, cassavas were abandoned pell mell as one and all scrambled to
their feet eager to find out what new puzzle Miranda had managed to
pick up. The light from their lamps cast huge, uncertain shadows on the
irregular masses of rock that everywhere blocked the view. At first
there was nothing to be seen that differed essentially from what they
had grown accustomed to in this subterranean world. There was the same
chaos of jagged pinnacles and bowlders, the same display of irresistible
energy that had been let loose and played itself out here ages ago. But
in the midst of it all, zigzagging through this maze of dusty forms,
there was the new path announced by Miranda. It led away from the
central rock, or pillar, where they had taken their lunch, and formed
an acute angle with the path they had already traversed. It was not so
plainly marked as the latter, and appeared little more than a rift among
the rocks that strewed the floor of the cave. But it was a path, there
was no mistaking that. Among the evidences that it had been recently
used was one that particularly delighted Miranda and justified his
prolonged microscopic examination of the path itself--the footprints of
a man wearing, not sandals, but shoes.
"Raoul Arthur!" exclaimed Leighton.
"Perhaps," agreed Miranda.
"Where could he have gone?" asked Una. "This path runs in nearly the
same direction as the one we followed."
"We will see."
As a matter of fact, the two paths, starting together at the central
rock and going thence in the same general direction, gradually diverged
from each other, much as do the two lines that form the letter V.
Then, another difference was noticeable. The first path followed a
comparatively uniform level; the second dipped steadily downward.
This peculiarity, first noted by Miranda, appealed particularly to
Herran. Gloom had been the dominant mood with the general ever since
he had entered the cave. He had made mental notes of things as they
had happened, but he had not shared in the discussions of the others.
This was partly due to his ignorance of English, partly to a sense of
responsibility that he felt as a citizen of Bogota whose duty it was
to guide a party of foreigners safely through one of the difficult
regions of his native land. But now, at last, he had something to say,
something that was due from him as their leader. Tugging at his beard in
characteristic fashion, he gave the result of his observations in terse
Spanish.
"At first we go away from the lake. Then we come back to it, just a
little. Then we go away. Now this path take us right there again."
"That is it," agreed Miranda.
It sounded rather mixed up, and no one paid much attention to it. But at
least it put General Herran in a better humor.
"Perhaps this will take us out of the cave," suggested Andrew. "The path
is nearly in the right direction."
"I hope it means water, anyway," said Una, thinking of Mrs. Quayle.
They gathered up what was left of their provisions and set off again,
single file, down the new path, General Herran in the lead, Andrew
bringing up the rear. They had not gone many yards before they noticed
the marked difference in the two paths. At first the change in level was
scarcely perceptible; but now the descent became more and more abrupt,
and as there was less sand and gravel for a foothold, they found the
smooth surface of the rocks, tilted often at a sharp angle, anything but
easy going. Another peculiarity that soon caught their attention was the
lessening height of the cave's roof. Until now this roof had been so far
above them that they had to throw their heads way back to see it, and
even then it appeared in only vague outlines. Now it took a downward
curve that brought it nearer and nearer to them. Following the same
descending sweep it was evident that floor and roof would shortly come
together and the confines, at least of that portion of the cave, would
be reached.
Along with this new architectural feature in the structure of the cave,
there was a noticeable change in the character of the rock forming it.
Walls and floor had, until now, been sharp and jagged in contour, dull,
almost black, in color. But the unevenness of surface was disappearing.
The rocks were smoother, as if worn and rounded by constant rubbing.
Vivid colors gleamed from wall and column with a pristine freshness
suggesting that this part of the cave belonged to a far more distant
period than the great rock chamber in which they had stopped to take
their luncheon. Finally, they were surrounded at every hand by those
spear-like formations, thrust upwards from the floor or depending from
the roof, that give to the interiors of most caves their fantastic
appearance--the stalactites and stalagmites about whose origin in the
workshop of Nature there can be no doubt.
This change had an invigorating effect upon the explorers. Passing from
the unrelieved gloom of the first cavern into this fairy-built grotto,
with its bright hues and pleasing shapes, they began to forget their
fears and felt instead something like the real enjoyment that belongs to
unexpected adventure. Everything in the way of glorious surprise seemed
possible. For one thing, Miranda's confident prediction was apparently
about to be realized, a probability that the doctor celebrated by
alternate chuckles and grunts of satisfaction.
"If we don't find water, there is at least no doubt that water has once
been here," declared Leighton. "These stalactites make that certain."
"You will see--you will see," persisted Miranda. "It is the Lake
Guatavita."
"How can that be?" argued Leighton. "No opening of the lake into this
cave has ever been discovered."
"You will see."
One might almost imagine that the intricacies of the cave were as
familiar to the doctor as the formula for his celebrated pills. But his
confident attitude was only one part genuine to three parts bravado. He
enjoyed opposing a scientist showing such supreme self-possession as
Leighton, and he delighted in startling statements of fact that merely
bewildered his hearers. But he was by no means sure in his own mind
of the truth, or even the probability of the theory he was advancing.
General Herran, however, who had heard as far back as he could remember
the strange tales of mystery regarding Lake Guatavita, and had often
speculated with other Bogotanos on the disappearance beneath its waters
of the fabulous wealth of the ancient Chibchas, was keenly alive to the
possibilities lying before them now that they were on the very spot
haunted by so many fascinating traditions of his race. Like most natives
of Bogota the Spanish blood in his veins was mixed with the blood of the
Chibchas--and it was an infusion he was proud to own. Hence, he readily
believed that at any moment they would stumble upon a perfect mountain
of treasure, all the lost gold and emeralds that Spanish romancers had
dreamed about and travelers of the old heroic times had risked their
lives for.
They had now reached the end of the precipitous incline down which the
path had led them, thankful to exchange the slipping and sliding, to
which the tilted rocks had treated them, for the firm footing offered by
a comparatively level floor. Here the roof hung only a few feet above
their heads, whence it curved downward, glistening with the delicate
fretwork that the subterranean torrents of bygone ages had carved upon
it, until it became a part of the rock-strewn ground beneath. The
chamber thus formed became a long, spacious corridor, one side of which
was open to the vast amphitheater they had just left, the other side
stoutly hemmed in by a maze of stalactites and stalagmites looming up
as sentinels in front of a wall that could be dimly seen behind them.
Down the middle of this corridor lay the path they had been following,
wider now and showing the imprint of many sandaled feet. Before them, at
the end of the corridor, they could distinguish the outlines of another
wall, apparently marking the limit of this portion of the cave.
"There is your lake," said Leighton ironically to Miranda, who shrugged
his shoulders in reply.
"At any rate, Uncle Harold," said Una reproachfully, "there must be an
opening here. And the air is just heavenly! Instead of walking, one
could dance."
The others appeared to feel the truth of Una's observation, for they
moved along with a briskness, a snap, they had not shown before. This
was particularly noticeable in Mrs. Quayle, who seemed to be propelled
by some inner gayety of spirit that quite changed her usually sedate
manner and appearance. The transformation was not lost on Una, who was
both amused and puzzled by it.
"Look at Mrs. Quayle's jewelry!" she exclaimed. "It is dancing about as
if it were moved by a breeze from somewhere."
"What do you mean? I can't feel any breeze," declared Leighton. "The
singular fluttering of Mrs. Quayle's jewelry simply means, I suppose,
that the wearer is, as usual, agitated."
That Mrs. Quayle was agitated, and not in the joyous frame of mind that
Una at first supposed, began to be painfully evident. Ever since she
had come into the cave agitation had been a chronic condition with her.
But in this instance it hardly explained the eccentric activity that
had suddenly developed among the ancient heirlooms that she guarded so
jealously. The large gold pendants that dangled from her necklace beat
an unaccountable tattoo upon her neck and shoulders, while the massive
brooch fastened to her bodice showed an obstinate tendency to break away
from its moorings. Even the gold rings on her fingers seemed possessed
with a rebellious spirit, a mischievous desire to dance in unison
with brooch and necklace, while two heavy bracelets, made of links
and chains, clicked and snapped like castanets under the prevailing
terpsichorean influence.
For several minutes before Una drew attention to these strange antics
Mrs. Quayle had been unhappily aware of the insurrection that had
broken out among her treasures and had clutched frantically at them in
an unavailing attempt to quiet their ill-timed frenzy. She dabbed at
them with one hand and caressed them with the other, only to find that
as soon as they were freed from her restraining touch they flapped and
jingled and tugged at her with renewed energy. Finally, with the eyes of
all the party upon her, the terrified lady gave up in despair.
"I don't know what is the matter with them," she wailed; "they never
acted this way before. I am not agitated," she added irritably, "as
Mr. Leighton says. And I don't think it is a breeze either. It takes
more than a breeze to make bracelets and brooches dance. They are just
possessed, and for no reason at all. Oh, why did I wear these precious
things on this terrible journey!"
Doctor Miranda, with the steadfast gaze of an exorcist, planting himself
firmly in front of her, his arms crossed on his chest Bonaparte-fashion,
added to Mrs. Quayle's dismay.
"I think she have the malaria," he announced solemnly. "I give her my
pills----"
"I won't take your old pills," was the spirited reply. "They nearly did
for poor Mr. Andrew. I think they may kill him yet. There is nothing the
matter with me. I want to get out of this cave--and I'm going to this
very minute."
Never in the annals of her long career as housekeeper and self-effacing
lady's companion had Mrs. Quayle been known to give way to such open
defiance of any one belonging to the opposite sex. And, as if to show
that she meant every word she said, she brushed past the astonished
doctor and strode ahead of the others along the path leading down the
corridor. To no one was her behavior more astonishing than to Leighton,
in whom the reserve of the scientist was sorely strained by this sudden
show of daring from a creature whose timidity was proverbial. As leader
of the expedition, and obeying also the skeptical bent of his nature,
the savant felt that his own dignity was involved.
"Mrs. Quayle is perfectly right," he announced coolly; "we must lose no
more time in these trifles. What if her jewelry does show a disposition
to dance? A woman's jewelry is always ridiculous--and Mrs. Quayle's has
always been a puzzle besides."
But the rest of the party soon found that Mrs. Quayle was not an easy
leader to follow. Where before she kept them back by her ineffectual
efforts to get over the various obstacles encountered in their
explorations, and had needed their help at almost every step, she
now set them a pace that atoned for her former lagging. Whether this
amazing activity was due to a sudden attack of fever, as Doctor Miranda
maintained, or whether it came from a frantic desire to escape from a
region that filled her with superstitious terrors, Mrs. Quayle showed no
sign of giving up what she proposed to do, whatever that might be. On
the contrary, as the far end of the corridor grew more distinct she sped
along faster than ever. Her rebellious jewelry fluttered and twitched
and danced more vigorously, until it fairly stood out before her,
straining and pulling her along, breathless and hysterical, as if drawn
by some irresistible force.
"I can't stop it! I can't stop it!" she gasped.
To which Miranda, puffing along in her wake, replied with dramatic
emphasis: "This little woman must be stop!"
But this was not easy, even for a doctor with unlimited experience in
quinine. The smooth, tapering surfaces of the stalactites, standing on
guard in long rows down one side of the corridor, glinted derisively as
the explorers rushed past them frantically trying to curb the frenzy
that had seized this perfectly harmless woman who was now leading them
on to a goal that might have all kinds of disaster in store for them.
As they drew nearer the end of the corridor, the expected opening that
was to deliver them from their subterranean prison was not visible,
at least to the hasty glance that could be spared from the absorbing
pursuit of Mrs. Quayle. Nevertheless, the awkward rapidity with which
they were hurrying on to their fate was to be rewarded, apparently,
by the discovery of something that was different, at any rate, from
the wilderness of rocks that hitherto had baffled them in this gloomy
underworld--and it was not General Herran's mountain of gold and
emeralds, either.
Something made by man, and not by nature, was here. This was
unmistakably revealed in an odd sort of structure towards which they
were hurrying. At last they were confronted, they believed, by the
clew to the mysterious beings who inhabited the place, whose presence
had been indicated by the footprints, by the man in the toga, seen, or
imagined, by Andrew, and vaguely suggested by the weird disappearance
of the entrance to the tunnel through which they had hoped to make
their escape. Here all these things that had filled them with alternate
anxiety and curiosity were to be explained. Unfortunately, Mrs. Quayle's
impatience to get on gave them no opportunity to reconnoitre, at a
safe distance, the object they were approaching. Leighton especially,
accustomed to the careful methods of science, would have preferred a
more deliberate and cautious mode of travel to the brainless hurry
into which his housekeeper had plunged them. As it was, the object
looming before them, so far as they could snatch time to make it out,
resembled a huge stone windlass. Even the cylindrical drum and the long
curved handle hanging at the side of one of the tall uprights were of
stone. Certainly, a windlass like this--if it was a windlass--had
never been seen before. It could not be the work of modern times--it
was much too clumsy for that. And of stone! Perhaps it belonged to the
Stone Age. It was conceivable--and the notion stirred the depths of the
savant's soul with delight--that here, in this subterranean chamber of
the Andes, they were about to stumble upon an archæological find that
would revolutionize the current theories as to primitive man and his
development. But--was it a windlass? The two uprights carrying the long
horizontal drum at the top, instead of in the middle, were some ten
or fifteen feet high. With such an abnormal height, and such singular
construction, the THING might be intended to serve as a gallows quite
as reasonably as a windlass. Whoever would have believed that they had
the gallows in the Stone Age! There, sure enough, was the rope dangling
most suggestively from the crosspiece--or drum, whichever it might be.
But then, a rope was the conventional adornment, whether for gallows
or windlass. As they came within fifty yards of it, the THING looked
unquestionably more and more like a gallows, less like a windlass. It
stood within ten feet of the wall, through a long, wide aperture in
which one end of the rope disappeared. The other end, attached to what
appeared to be a great oblong stone, lay coiled upon the ground.
Not until she had almost reached it did Mrs. Quayle realize the oddity
of the structure towards which she had been racing. Then its resemblance
to a gallows suddenly flashed upon her. With a gurgle of horror she
threw herself upon the ground, unable, apparently, so long as she
remained upon her feet, to contend against the invisible influence
that forced her to run fairly into the arms of this terrifying object.
Prostrate between two rocks lying across the path, her wild flight came
to an end. Here her companions gathered around her--Miranda, puffing and
panting from his exertions, determined to allay the violent attack of
fever that he still believed was the cause of the lady's unaccountable
paroxysms; Leighton, torn between the psychological interest of the case
and the archæological puzzle awaiting solution; Andrew, his huge hands
waving about in helpless dismay, muttering incoherent advice to any one
who would listen, and Una, anxious to soothe an agitation that, she
conceived, was due merely to a case of nerves.
"She will be all right--soon she will be all right," declared Miranda,
intent on his professional duties as he knelt on the ground beside Mrs.
Quayle. With which comforting assurance he seized one of her hands, and
with his other hand tried to force open her mouth.
"I am all right," she shrieked, tearing herself out of his clutches.
"There's nothing the matter with me. Something is pulling me to that
terrible thing over there. It seems to be my jewelry. My necklace is
cutting my head off. This brooch!--oh! it's awful! What shall I do? What
is the matter?"
"It is very simple," declared Leighton sternly. "Take off your jewelry
if it bothers you. I don't see why you should be wearing it, anyway."
Mrs. Quayle clutched wildly at her necklace and brooch, loath to part
with them and evidently regarding the people gathered around her as
little better than a lot of brigands who had lured her here to rob
her of her treasures. Every one else heartily agreed with Leighton's
proposal.
"Caramba! That is true!" shouted Miranda delightedly. "This necklace, it
choke her too much. I take him off of her."
Before Mrs. Quayle could protest further, Miranda seized her by the
throat, hauling at the massive necklace in an effort to find the clasp
that held it in place. The task proved difficult and promised to develop
features that savored more of surgery than anything else. The trouble
was not so much from the defensive tactics employed by Mrs. Quayle--who
contrived to elude Miranda's grasp with surprising agility--as it was
with the necklace itself. Never was a simple piece of jewelry more
rebellious. It slipped through the doctor's fingers and jumped about and
tugged at its victim's neck in the most baffling and erratic manner. But
Miranda, growing more eager and determined, triumphed at last. Holding
the snakelike coil in both hands as in an iron vise, he tore the chain
apart with a masterly jerk.