Magnet."
"Take us out of here, my fellow, and we believe you are not one scamp,"
said Miranda brusquely.
"I am not bound to do anything of the kind, even if I could," retorted
Raoul. "Look out for yourselves."
"So! that is good," commented Miranda. "We take the advice. Here we can
do nothing. Into Guatavita we cannot jump through this well. Me--I am
too fat!"
The bustling doctor's show of energy proved infectious. He and Herran
unceremoniously pocketed their revolvers, leaving Raoul at liberty to do
as he pleased, while they looked about for a way of escape.
Since he had become suspicious of Raoul, Leighton was inclined to
trust the leadership of the two South Americans. The latter, convinced
that there was no way out from this part of the cave, determined to go
back to the central chamber, hoping to find there the entrance to the
tunnel leading to the outside world. They hit on this plan because they
feared an ambush on any of the labyrinthian trails leading off in other
unexplored directions. The rest agreeing, they set out along the path
flanked by the grove of stalactites, traveling at a quicker pace but
with greater caution than before. Miranda and Herran marched ahead with
revolvers drawn, Andrew in the rear still holding his pocket-knife ready
for action. They had been delayed on Mrs. Quayle's account, for that
lady, in spite of her anxiety to get away, had refused to budge without
her jewelry. But it was not easy to satisfy her demand. For, when the
jewelry was taken from its hiding place beneath a rock, it still showed
the same strong tendency to fly to the Black Magnet. This distressed
Mrs. Quayle, who refused to touch the treasures that she was at the
same time loath to part with. But a compromise was finally effected by
tying all the jewelry securely around Andrew's waist. This arrangement
appeased the owner--but it gave an uncomfortable backward pull to
every step the schoolmaster took, who thus resembled, in walking, a
ship sailing against the wind. This inconvenience, however, steadily
decreased as they came out of the disturbing region of the Black Magnet,
until finally these ancient heirlooms of Mrs. Quayle's regained their
natural composure.
But there were other things besides the Black Magnet to interrupt
their progress. No sooner had they gotten well under way and were
congratulating themselves on their escape from mishap so far, than they
were startled by a wild and piercing strain of music, seeming to come
from the grove of stalactites before which they were hurrying. Amazed
by so singular an interruption, they stopped short and looked fearfully
about them. A sound of scornful laughter blended with the music.
"Raoul!" muttered Leighton.
But there was nothing to be seen of the strange American whose mocking
laughter they were sure, nevertheless, they had heard. Then the music
grew louder and louder, as if the musicians were steadily approaching
in their direction. The music itself was subtly different, in tone
and pitch, from anything played in the outside world. The high notes
evidently came from wind instruments, but of a unique quality and
caliber. Mingling with these notes, and sustaining the bass, were the
heavy beatings of drums of the kind still used, although deeper and
mellower, by the native Indians in their festivals.
The melody produced--if it could be called a melody--was of an
extraordinary character. Its effect, its charm--for it had unmistakable
charm--was quite impossible to define. In some respects it resembled the
monotonous chantings peculiar to most primitive races, occasionally,
as was customary with the latter, rising and falling, whole octaves
at a time, in a wailing key. In the main, it carried a sort of theme,
emotional and inspiring, that was far too complex to be attributed
to the uncultivated musical taste common to savagery. There was an
exultant swing to the measure, a lilting cadence that betrayed a
fine esthetic sense, a rich imagination coupled with the simplicity
and freedom that has not felt the pressure, except very remotely,
of our western civilization. Such music was good to listen to--and
under ordinary circumstances the explorers would have been content
to listen and nothing more. But curiosity, and some remnant of fear
the lulling influence of the music had not dissipated, kept them on
the alert. Their fate depended, they felt, on these musicians. They
must find out who they were before it was too late to retreat. And
then--presently--through the clustering green and white stems of the
stalactites, they caught sight of them.
They were over twenty in number, moving, as nearly as the unevenness
of the ground would permit, in time to the choral march they were
playing. At sight of them Mrs. Quayle didn't know whether to be pleased
or terrified. For the music was such an enchanting, soothing sort of
thing, and the players so mild, benignant of aspect, anything like fear
seemed out of place. But, on the other hand, the strange instruments
they carried, their outlandish dress, the whole effect of them, in a
way, was distinctly unearthly, supernatural--and Mrs. Quayle drew the
line at the supernatural. So, she ended by being simply amazed beyond
measure--and her companions shared her feelings in lessening degree.
Miranda and Herran, dumbfounded by the apparition, forgot to handle
their revolvers in the warlike fashion they had intended with the first
approach of a foe; Andrew gaped in an open-mouthed sort of dream, during
which his pocket-knife came imminently near doing fatal execution upon
himself, while Una and Leighton, forgetting their anxiety, were lost in
admiration of the delicious music and of the spectacle before them.
One and all of this singular band of cavemen were clothed after the
fashion described by Andrew. Each wore a loose white mantle, or toga,
that draped the figure in voluminous folds, adding to the grace and
freedom of movement with which they kept time to the music. Their feet
were shod with sandals, their heads encircled with bands of white cloth
from the flying ends of which hung ornaments of gold and emerald. The
musical instruments upon which they played were long, slender tubes,
curving upward at the extremity, of a metal that glittered and sparkled
like the purest gold.
Most singular of all was the light that each of these musicians carried.
This light came from neither torch nor lantern, but radiated in sparks
and flashes from oval disks worn, jewel-wise, on the breast. By what
fuel these incandescent fires were fed was not apparent. They burned
with a clear white brilliance, illuminating each flowing figure with
startling vividness, and filling the beholder, ignorant of their
nature, with wonder at their admirable adaptability to the needs of a
subterranean world.
To Leighton these strange lights were much more mystifying than all
the rest of the apparition--for as yet it was difficult to regard the
approaching throng as being anything more real than an apparition
that one expects to have vanish away almost as soon as it makes its
appearance. But these musicians, weird and unearthly though they first
seemed when seen at a distance, as they drew nearer, proved to be
substantial, flesh-and-blood human beings right enough. Their dark
skins and aquiline features gave evidence, for one thing, that they
were of Indian origin and not inhabitants of the remote, invisible
fairyland that they appeared to the fervid imaginations of some of
Leighton's companions. Doubtless, argued the savant, they were a band
of revelers--or bandits--from the city to whom the secrets of the cave
were familiar. But where they had picked up such extraordinary means for
the illumination of their merry-making was more than he could fathom.
Lights? They were unlike any lights he had ever heard of. All that he
could make of it was that these illuminated disks belonged to the
marvels of a hitherto unknown world of science, marvels among which he
counted the Black Magnet and--possibly--that disappearing wall at the
entrance to the cave.
As these people showed no sign of hostility, the explorers began to hope
that through them they would win their way out of the cave. Certainly,
they were worth cultivating with this end in view. Hence, Miranda and
Herran looked stealthily at their revolvers and restored them as quickly
as possible to their hip-pockets, while such a burst of confidence
seized Mrs. Quayle that she prepared and was actually seen to exhibit
one of her most ingratiating smiles for the benefit of the approaching
Indians, at the same time expressing in a loud voice to Una her approval
of their music.
This pleasant feeling, however, that they were about to regain
their liberty did not last long. The Indians, although showing no
unfriendliness, gave unmistakable evidence that they meant to control
the movements of the explorers. Still playing on their trumpets and
beating solemnly on their drums, they marched around them, bowing
courteously enough, but intimating at the same time that they were
acting upon a definite plan that could not be interfered with. Somewhat
dashed by this singular behavior, which was the more difficult to meet
just because it lacked outward menace, the explorers conferred hastily
together, hoping to hit on a safe line of action. The men of the party,
suspicious of the friendly attitude assumed by the Indians, favored
immediate resistance. Their first flush of confidence in them was gone.
Herran and Miranda, especially, were doubtful of the intentions of
these strange people. From whatever motive, it seemed to them that the
latter had deliberately planned their capture, evidently carrying out in
this the orders of some one in authority over them. That these orders
might come from Raoul Arthur was their principal cause for alarm. The
departure of the American miner, under every appearance of treachery,
marked him out as one to be feared. He was not, it is true, among the
Indians who were surrounding them in their glittering line of dancers,
but his absence was not proof that he had nothing to do with this odd
demonstration. But--how resist a party so superior to their own in
number, one that had already gained an obvious advantage of position
over them. Leighton was doubtful what to do; Andrew was helpless; Mrs.
Quayle was temporarily lost in admiration of the picturesque circle
of dancing figures, all regarding her with gratifying amiability. Una
alone insisted that the friendliness of the Indians was genuine, and
that their own safety depended on obeying them. As a compromise it was
decided to talk to these people--to find out what they were after. For
this diplomatic duty Miranda and Herran were chosen.
Although the energetic little doctor was certainly not gifted with an
unusual amount of tact, he had at least the merit of directness, and
lost no time in calling the attention of the dancers to his desire to
come to an understanding with them.
"Do you talk Spanish?" he shouted brusquely in that language.
"Surely, Senor Doctor," gravely replied a tall personage whose dignity
of bearing and the fact that the border of his flowing toga was
distinguished by a decorative design in embroidered gold indicated his
superiority in rank over his comrades. "Surely, some of us talk
Spanish."
Having given this assurance, the speaker checked the music and dancing
of the others and stood, with the air of one accustomed to ceremonious
usage, waiting to hear further from Miranda.
"Yes, I am doctor, famous doctor," said the latter, bustling up to
the speaker and looking him over as if he were about to claim him for
medical purposes. "I cure thousands and thousands with my pills. But how
you know I am doctor?"
The Indian smiled, inclining his head graciously before answering.
"Doctor Miranda is so famous every one knows him."
Ordinarily the vanity of Miranda was easily touched, but just now he was
too suspicious to be beguiled by the compliment.
"Caramba!" he snorted; "and who are you?"
"I am Anitoo."
"That is not Spanish," said Miranda sharply.
"I am not Spanish," replied Anitoo stiffly. "I come from an ancient race
that ruled here long before there were any Spaniards."
"Well, Senor Anitoo--you say it is Anitoo?--that may be. You are
Indian--Chibcha Indian, perhaps--and not Spanish, not Colombian. But
what do you make in this cave?"
Anitoo smiled broadly.
"This is the home of my people for many centuries," he said. "And now,
suppose I ask you a question. What do you make in this cave?"
XV
AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR
There is no doubt about it; Miranda had much the worst of it in his tilt
with Anitoo. The Indian's point blank question as to why the explorers
were in the cave was not easily answered. The more Miranda thought it
over the less able was he to discover--or at least explain--just that
very thing: why he and his companions were there. To say they were
looking in a cave on the Bogota plateau for a man who had disappeared
many miles away on the Honda road sounded rather unreasonable, now that
he looked at it from the standpoint of a stranger; while to recall the
story of foul play that linked this place with David's disappearance
years ago seemed, under the circumstances, dangerous even to the
impetuous Miranda. So, he shrugged his shoulders and resorted to a more
evasive reply than was his custom.
"We come for a picnic, and we want to get out--that is all."
Anitoo again smiled broadly, yet with the subtle suggestion of holding
in reserve an unuttered fund of wisdom that comes so naturally with the
people of his race.
"That is all?"
"We look for one friend who is lost. Then, we come with another who has
gone. He is one canaille! You have seen him?"
"Ah!" murmured Anitoo, half to himself. "What is his name? What is he
like?"
"He is one Yankee. He is called Senor Don Raoul Arthur. He look--well,
he look like this----" and Miranda gave an exaggerated example of
Raoul's rolling and twitching eyes.
"So, he is here!" said Anitoo, startled, apparently, by the information
and amused by the grotesque lesson in optics given by the doctor.
Miranda, on the other hand, gathered that Anitoo disliked Raoul--and
this pleased him immensely. But he could get nothing more from the
Indian who, although still friendly, began to show signs of impatience,
talking earnestly to his followers in a language unintelligible to
Miranda and Herran.
On both sides there was evident uneasiness; and when Anitoo, in a tone
that sounded disagreeably like a command, told the explorers that they
could not continue their tour of the cave unattended by them, things
seemed to come to a climax. Miranda expostulated, the others grumbled
and talked of resistance. But Anitoo was inflexible, insisting, all the
while, that there was nothing unfriendly in his attitude. He reminded
them that they could not possibly find their way out of the cave without
his guidance. Miranda jumped at this hint of a rescue, but was again
unable to extract a definite promise from Anitoo.
"We will first show the Senores some of the wonders of the Guatavita
kingdom," said the smiling Indian.
"We don't want to see any more," said Miranda emphatically. "We have
seen enough."
"No! No!" continued Anitoo. "Whoever comes so far as this must see our
queen before he goes away."
"A queen! A kingdom in a cave! But that is impossible!"
"I like his offer," interposed Leighton, who understood enough to catch
the meaning of this strange proposal. "Anitoo seems honest. We have lost
our way. If he has a queen and a kingdom to show us, they may be worth
seeing. We can be no worse off, certainly, for seeing them."
"Once in the land of goblins and fairies," remarked Una, "queens and
kingdoms are a matter of course."
"It is some idle mummery, I suppose," added Leighton; "we are too
near civilization for anything else. All the same, these lanterns--or
whatever you call them--that they carry, are worth knowing more about."
"What are they?"
"I would give a good deal to know."
"Well, Senor," said Anitoo impatiently, "you will come with us?"
Without waiting for Miranda, who seemed reluctant to place himself in
the Indian's power more than he could help, Leighton bowed assent.
"And this Senor Arthur?" inquired Anitoo.
"He has gone," replied Miranda promptly. "He will not come again."
"Perhaps," said Anitoo vaguely.
At his signal the Indians lifted the curved trumpets to their lips,
the drums were beaten and, to the same curious spirited music that
had heralded their approach--half march, half dance--they moved off,
the explorers in their midst, down the path flanked by the forest of
stalactites, to the great entrance chamber whence, after finishing their
hasty meal, the "picknickers" had first started on their journey of
discovery.
The friendly bearing of Anitoo and the other cavemen did not fail
to impress the explorers favorably, dispelling whatever suspicions
they might have had in the beginning, and giving them a taste of real
enjoyment in their adventure. All had this feeling of security except
Miranda and Herran. The two South Americans, however, were less easily
moved. Instead of sharing Una's and Mrs. Quayle's admiration of the
picturesque appearance of their guides, they grumbled something to
the effect that it was a lot of meaningless foolery. This skeptical
attitude grew to open disapproval when, having reached the central
rock where they had taken their meal in the main cavern, the Indians,
instead of proceeding toward the entrance to the tunnel that had been
so mysteriously lost, kept on in the opposite direction. This meant
that they were now to explore an entirely new, unknown region; and the
possibilities that awaited them, with such uncommunicative guides, in
the gloomy depths that stretched before them, stirred up something of
a mutinous spirit in the two South Americans. But their protests were
futile. Without halting his rhythmic march, Anitoo smiled courteously
at their objections, merely repeating his intention of taking them to
"the queen." As this was all he would say, they were compelled to make
the best of the vague indication of the course they were following. The
others continued to enjoy the oddity of the adventure. The enlivening
strains of music, the gala costumes of the Indians--all seemed part of a
curious carnival the purpose of which was unknown to them. The novelty
was kept up by the strange scenes through which they were passing; it
reached its climax at the further wall of the great central chamber.
So far, the natural features of the cave had absorbed their attention;
now they were confronted with a series of Titanic specimens of human
architecture as amazing in design as they were unexpected. It is
misleading, perhaps, to describe this architecture as the product of
human genius, because in line, material, and general plan it followed
closely the pattern and the workmanship of the cave itself. Man had
here adopted the half finished designs of nature and completed them in
a way that carried out his own ends. Thus, the gradually widening trail
followed by Anitoo and his band of musicians made toward a great archway
that swept upward in a glistening half circle of white stone. In the
center of this rounded arch, twenty-five feet from the ground, gleamed a
huge round tablet upon whose smooth white surface could be distinguished
a series of engraved characters. These characters, outlined in gold,
were immediately recognized by General Herran as similar in design
to the picture-writing, presumably of Chibcha origin, that covered a
rocky promontory rising above one of the foothills skirting the Bogota
tableland.
The mighty portal to which this tablet formed the keystone, was only
partially the work of man. Here the elemental forces that originally
hollowed out the great central chamber through which the explorers had
passed, had encountered a granitic rock effectually resisting their
ravages. Hence, the narrowing of the passage-way to the diameter of the
half-circle described by the white arch, and hence the opportunity that
had been seized by an aboriginal race of men to complete and embellish
what nature had so nobly planned. The sides of the arch rose in majestic
columns, shaped and smoothed to the semblance of such pillars as those
used in the massive temples of ancient Egypt; and, still bearing out
this similarity, each of these pillars stood at the head of a long row
that stretched away indefinitely in the darkness beyond. The curve of
the arch overhead had also followed the simplest of lines, but with so
glowing a symmetry that the beholder yielded to the conviction that
here, whether of Nature's design or Man's, he stood on the threshold
of a realm wherein were garnered treasures of art and science unique
in the world's history. Besides the golden characters engraved on the
keystone of this gigantic portal there was but one attempt at sculptural
adornment. This was the rudely carved head of a condor, made to curve
downward from the central tablet of the arch, as if the sleepless duty
had been given to this winged monarch of the Andes of inspecting all who
passed beneath its lofty eyrie.
Before this imposing structure the explorers paused in astonishment.
Anitoo smiled, somewhat disdainfully, and signed to them to enter. This
they were loath to do until they could learn more definitely whither the
cavemen were leading them.
"Senores," remonstrated Anitoo, "when you were lost in this cave, I came
to your rescue. Now, you must follow me."
"That is very good," said Miranda irritably. "We have enough of this
cave. We want to go out."
"Follow me," persisted Anitoo.
"You take us out?"
"I take you to the queen," he retorted.
"Why we go to your queen? We make nothing with your queen."
"Ah, but perhaps she make something with you."
"Caramba! What she make with me?"
"You will see."
The explorers looked at each other helplessly. One thing was
evident--the Indians had no intention of parting with them. But they
could not tell whether they were hostile or friendly. They were not
treated as captives; but they felt that any attempt to escape would be
quickly frustrated. They were too far outnumbered by the cavemen to
make resistance possible. Leighton therefore decided that there was
nothing for it but submission. Upon this the Indians gave a grunt of
satisfaction, and Anitoo signaled to advance, pointing upward to the
Sign of the Condor.
But the signal came too late.