mules, followed by the Indian.
"You dunno what I mean, sir," said John Manning testily. "I meant on
the track for one o' them di'mond valleys. Know what that bird was?"
"Yes; a condor."
"Con grandmother, sir. It was a roc, one o' them birds as carried
Sindbad out o' the valley. This was only a chicken, I should say; but
it was a roc, all the same."
"What nonsense!" said Perry. "That was all fancy tale and romance."
"Not it, sir. I might have thought so once, but I don't now. Let me
ask you this, sir," said Manning: "suppose there was no way out or no
way into the valleys we've come along, could you climb up the sides?"
"No, of course not."
"And if you'd heard tell of birds with wings thirty foot across before
you'd seen 'em, would you have believed in them?"
"No, and I don't now."
"What! after one of 'em come down to attack you, and we scared it away."
"That was only about half the size."
"Oh, come, Master Perry, sir, don't get a haggling about trifles; there
ain't much difference between fifteen foot and thirty. You mark my
words, sir, the colonel's been studying up his _'Rabian Nights_, and
he's on the right track now for one of them valleys, and we shall go
back to San-what's-its-name with these ugly-looking donkey mules loaded
up with all kinds of precious stones. You're a lucky one, Master Perry,
sir, and your fortune's about made."
"Think so?" said Perry, for the sake of speaking, for he was very
thoughtful.
"Yes, sir, I just do; and as for me, I hope it's going to be my luck to
get just a few nubbly bits for myself, so as I can buy myself a cottage
and a bit o' garden, and keep a pig, so as to live retired. You'll come
and see me, Master Perry, then, won't you?"
"Of course," said the boy, and then, making a trivial excuse to get
away, he hurried along the line of slow-going mules to see that his
father was right in front before their guide, who walked by the first
mule; then there were three more plodding along, just far enough behind
each other to be safe from any playful kick. By the head of the third
mule their new Indian driver was walking with his bow over his shoulder,
a handful of long arrows tucked under his arm, and his head bent down
watching his footsteps.
Perry kept behind at some distance, watching the Indian's every gesture,
till he saw his father returning, for the track had become wider, and
the boy watched intently; for he saw the colonel bend down from his mule
and tap the Indian on the shoulders as he said a few words in Spanish.
But what they were Perry was too far off to hear, the mules too making a
good deal of clattering on the rocky track, which noise was echoed all
around in a wonderful way.
"It must have been my fancy, but I could have been sure he said
something to me in English," muttered Perry. "I was so excited, I
suppose."
CHAPTER SIX.
A NIGHT ALARM.
"Did you give the Indian lad the knife?" said the colonel as they came
abreast.
"No, father."
"Go and do it at once, and mind how you give it; the fellow's as wild as
a hawk. I thought he was going to spring over the precipice as soon as
I touched him."
Perry took out the pocket-knife he had with him, and stepped forward;
but a word from his father checked him.
"I don't want to make too much fuss over this, Perry, my lad," he said,
"but you displayed a great want of nerve. You did not act like a
healthy, sturdy, English boy, and but for that Indian's quick decision,
you would have lost your life."
"Yes, father, I'm afraid so."
"Then, for goodness' sake, my lad, try to shake off this girlish
cowardice, or you'll make me regret bringing you."
"I'll try, father," said the boy, his face flushing hotly.
"That's right. I'm sure Captain Norton's son would have cut a better
figure."
Perry's face grew hotter, and he felt a bitter feeling of annoyance at
being compared so unfavourably with the lad who had been his companion.
The feeling was only momentary, though, and he went on and overtook the
Indian, with the knife in his hand.
He was going to give it without a word, but the idea that, perhaps,
after all, the half-savage being might understand a few words of
English, flashed into his mind, and he said:
"This is not worth much, but I hope you'll keep it in memory of my
gratitude for your bravery to-day."
To his disgust, the Indian paid not the slightest attention, but trudged
on barefooted beside the mule, as if perfectly unconscious of any one
beside him, and Perry's nerves being all on the jar, he felt irritated
at giving, un-noticed, a pretty speech.
"Here, catch hold," he said. "This is for you."
He thrust the knife into the Indian's grimy hand as he spoke, and then
walked on to where Diego received him with a smile of welcome, and began
talking directly in his mongrel tongue, perfectly content if the boy
seemed to understand a word here and there, when he pointed to
cavernous-looking holes in the cliff face opposite to him, to some
brighter and greener spot in the gorge, or to some distant fall which
glittered in the sunshine which came obliquely down into the narrow
vale.
All at once there was a beating of wings, and one of the huge condors,
startled from the eyrie it occupied high up above their heads, suddenly
threw itself off, and began to fly round, rising higher and higher,
while the Indian rapidly fitted one of the long feathered arrows be
carried to the string of his bow, waited till the great bird was gliding
by, and then loosed the shaft. The arrow struck the condor in the wing,
and made the huge bird give itself an angry jerk, as if it were disposed
to turn upon its aggressor; but as Perry watched, the bird gave a few
rapid beats with its pinions, shooting upwards rapidly, and though it
was some distance away, the air was so clear that Perry distinctly saw
the long feathered arrow shaken out of the condor's white wing, and fall
slowly down into the depths of the gorge, while the great bird literally
shot up for some distance, and then glided over a shoulder of the
mountain they were flanking, and disappeared.
The Indian looked at Perry and shook his head, as he muttered some words
which were easily interpreted.
"Lost my arrow, and did not get my bird."
"And a good thing too," said Perry. "It would have been of no use, and
only wanton destruction."
The man nodded and smiled as if Perry's words were full of sympathy for
his loss. But they fell upon other ears as well, for the colonel was
close behind.
"Rather misdirected sympathy, I'm afraid, Perry, my lad," he said. "The
bird would have been no use to us, but I dare say its death would have
saved the lives of a good many young vicunas and llamas."
Perry stared for a moment or two, and then: "Oh yes, I know. Do they
live up in these mountains?"
"Yes, you'll see plenty by-and-by."
"Sort of goats, aren't they, father?"
"Well, my boy, they partake more of the nature of a camel or sheep, as
you'll say whenever you see the long-necked, flat-backed creatures. But
it's getting time for camping. The mules are growing sluggish, and
sniffing about for food."
"I hope we shan't camp here," said Perry with a shiver.
"Not an attractive place, but I daresay Diego has some spot marked out
in his eye, for he has evidently been along here a good many times
before."
Ten minutes later, as the snowy peaks which came into view began to grow
of a bright orange in the western sunshine, one of the mules in front
uttered a whinnying squeal, and the rest pricked up their ears and
increased their pace.
"Steady there! Wo-ho!" shouted John Manning. "Hadn't we better sound a
halt, sir, or some of 'em 'll be over the side of the path."
"I think we may trust them; they smell grass or something ahead, and
know it is their halting-place."
"But look at that brown 'un, sir; he's walking right out from under his
load."
A few hitches, though, and a tightening of the hide ropes, kept the
loosened pack in its place; and soon after, to Perry's great delight,
the gorge opened out into a bright green valley, where, a snug,
well-sheltered nook being selected, the mules were once more unloaded,
and a fire lit. Then, thanks to John Manning's campaigning cleverness,
before the light on the mountain tops quite died out, they were seated
at a comfortable meal, with a good fire crackling and burning between
them and the Indians, wood for once in a way being fairly plentiful,
there being a little forest of dense scrubby trees low down by the
stream which coursed through the bottom of the valley.
"Not quite such a savage-looking place, Master Perry," said John
Manning, when the colonel had taken his gun and gone for a final look
round before they retired to their blankets on the hard ground.
"Savage! Why, it's beautiful," cried Perry, who had been watching the
colours die out on one snowy peak.
"Yes, sir, I suppose it is," said the man, shaking his head; "but we
didn't take all the trouble to see things look beautiful. We can do
that at home. What I'm thinking is that the place don't look healthy."
"Not healthy? Up here in the mountains?"
"Tchah! I don't mean that way, sir; I mean healthy for your pocket.
This looks like a place where you might have a farm and gardens, and
keep sheep. You'd never come here to search for di'monds, and
sapphires, and things."
"N-no," assented Perry.
"O' course not. We want good wild broken stone muddle over rocky
places, where you have to let yourselves down with ropes."
"Or ride down on rocs' backs, eh, John?"
"Yes, sir, that's your sort. We've passed several good
wholesome-looking places that I should have liked to have hunted over;
but of course the colonel knows best, and he is leading us somewhere for
us to have a regular good haul. Tired, sir?"
"Yes, pretty well, but one feels as if one could go on walking a long
way up in these mountains."
"Well, sir, we've got every chance, and I'd just as soon walk as get
across one of these mules, with your legs swinging, and the thin,
wiry-boned crittur wriggling about under you. I always feel as if my
one was groaning to himself, and looking out for a good place where he
could thrust his hind-legs up and send me flying over his head into the
air, where he could watch me turn somersaults till I got to the bottom."
"Oh, they're quiet enough," said Perry.
"Oh, are they, sir? Don't you tell me. My one never misses a chance of
rubbing my leg up against a corner, and when he has done there, he goes
to the other extreme and walks right along the edge, so that my other
leg is hanging over the side; and if I look down, I get giddy, and
expect that every moment over we shall both go."
"I tell you, they don't mean anything," cried Perry.
"Then why does my one, as soon as he knows he has frightened me, begin
to show his teeth, and laugh and wriggle his ears about, as if he were
enjoying himself right down to the roots. I don't believe these mules
are any good, Master Perry, that I don't, and as aforesaid, I always
feel as if I'd rather walk."
Further conversation was put an end to by the return of the colonel, and
soon after, leaving the Indians crouching near the fire, which they
seemed reluctant to leave, the English party sought the corner which had
been selected for their sleeping-place, rolled themselves in their
blankets, and with valises for pillows, and their stores piled up for a
shelter from the wind, they were not long in dropping off to sleep.
Perry's was sound enough at first, but after a time he began to dream
and go through the troubles connected with crossing the swinging bridge
again. He found himself half-way across, and then he could go no
farther in spite of all his efforts, till, just as the condor was about
to take advantage of his helplessness, and descend to fix its talons in
the sides of his head and pick out his eyes, the Indian made a snatch at
him, and dragged him across for him to awake with a start.
It was all so real that his brow was wet with perspiration, but he
settled what was the cause, and changed his position peevishly.
"That comes of eating charqui late at night, and then lying on one's
back," he muttered, and dropped off to sleep again directly.
But only to begin dreaming again of the condor, which was floating
overhead, spreading its wings quite thirty feet now; and there was the
scene of the day repeated with exaggerations. For the Indian guide bent
an immense bow, and sent an arrow as big as a spear whizzing through the
air, to strike the huge bird, which swooped down close by, and looked at
him reproachfully, as it said in a whisper: "I only came to bring back
your knife."
Perry lay bound in the fetters of sleep, but all the same, his ears
seemed to be open to outer impressions, for the words were repeated
close to him, and he started up on to his elbow.
"Who's there? who spoke?" said a low firm voice close to him. "That
you, Perry?"
"Yes, father," replied the boy, as he heard the ominous _click-click_ of
the double gun that lay by the colonel's side.
"What were you doing?"
"Nothing, father. I just woke up and fancied I heard some one speak."
"There was a whisper, and some one brushed against me just before. Did
you move from your place?"
"No, father," said Perry, feeling startled now.
"Manning!"
"Sir!"
"Have you been moving?"
"No, sir; fast asleep till you woke me, talking."
"Then some one has been visiting us," whispered the colonel. "Hah!
what's that?"
"Something rustling along yonder, sir."
_Bang! bang_! Both barrels were discharged with a noise which seemed to
have awakened all the sleeping echoes of the mountains around their
camp.
Then, as the colonel hastily reloaded his piece, Perry and John Manning
sprang up, each seizing his gun, and waited.
"I missed him; but, whoever it is, he won't come prowling about again.
Follow me quickly. Stoop."
Bending down, they hurried across the few yards which intervened between
them and the smouldering ashes of the fire, which, fanned now and then
by the breeze sweeping along the valley, gave forth a faint
phosphorescent-looking light, by which they could just make out the
figures of the three Indians standing with their bows and arrows ready,
as if about to shoot.
"Which of you came over to us?" said the colonel in Spanish; but there
was no reply, and the speaker stamped his foot in anger. "What folly,"
he cried, "not to be able to communicate with one's guide!"
"Could it have been some one from the valley lower down?" whispered
Perry, who then felt a curious startled sensation, for he recalled
perfectly the words he had heard while asleep, or nearly so: "I only
came to bring back your knife."
"Then it must have been the little Indian, and he could speak English
after all."
Accusatory words rose to Perry's lips, but he did not speak them. A
strange reluctance came over him, and he shrank from getting the poor
fellow into trouble, knowing, as he did, that his father would be very
severe on the intruder upon their little camp. For it was a fact that
the little Indian had crept up to where they slept and spoken to him.
The excitement had prevented him from noticing it before, but he held in
his hand the proof of the visit, tightly, nervously clutched: the knife
was in his left hand, just as it had been thrust there while he slept.
"Attend here," said the colonel. Then very sternly: "You cannot
understand my words, perhaps, but you know what I mean by my actions.
One of you came for some dishonest purpose to where we lay sleeping, and
I wonder I did not hit whoever it was as he ran.--Give me your hand,
sir," he cried; and he seized and held Diego's right hand for a few
moments.
Then dropping it, he held out his hand to the other Indian, who eagerly
placed his in the colonel's palm.
"An outside enemy, I'm afraid," muttered the colonel; "they are both
perfectly calm.--Now you, sir," he continued, turning to the last comer,
who hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hand.
This was all in the dim starlight, the figures of the men being made
plainer from time to time by the faint glow from the fire; but their
faces were quite in the shade as the colonel took the last comer's hand
and grasped it tightly, while Perry's heart began to beat, for he felt
that the discovery was coming; and hence he was not surprised at the
colonel's fierce and decided action.
"Your pulse galloping," he cried angrily, as he dragged the dimly-seen
figure forward. "Perry, Manning, cover those two men, and if they make
a gesture to draw their bows, fire at once.--Now, you scoundrel, it was
you, and you had come to steal."
"No, he had not, father; he came to give me back my knife."
"What!" cried the colonel angrily.
"It's a fact; he put it in my hand while I slept; and here it is."
"Then--"
"It's quite true, sir, and no good to keep it up any longer."
"Cil!" cried Perry in astonishment.
"Yes. Don't be very angry with me, Colonel Campion. I felt obliged to
come; I couldn't stop away."
"Why, you treacherous young rascal," cried the colonel, shaking him
violently.
"Don't, sir, please; you hurt!" cried Cyril half angrily.
"How dare you mutiny against your father's commands, and come after us
like--?"
"I dunno," said Cyril mournfully. "I felt obliged; I wanted to be with
Perry there."
"But to come masquerading like this, sir! How dare you?"
"I dunno, I tell you," said the boy petulantly. "It isn't so very nice
to come over the stones without shoes or stockings, and only in this
thing. It's as cold as cold, besides being painted and dirtied up as I
am. My feet are as sore as sore."
"And serve you right, you young dog. What will your father say?"
"I don't know what he'd have said if you'd shot me," grumbled Cyril.
The colonel coughed.
"You precious nearly did, you know," continued Cyril querulously. "I
heard the shots go crashing in among the bushes as I ran."
"Then you shouldn't have come prowling about the camp in the middle of
the night," cried the colonel. "Of course, sir, I took you for some
wild beast or marauding Indian."
"Well," said Cyril, "now you know, sir, and I suppose I can go back and
try to sleep."
"Go back? Yes, sir, first thing--to your father," cried the colonel
fiercely. "I suppose he does not know you have come?"
"No, sir."
"Of course not. A pretty disgraceful escapade, upon my word, sir! I
only wish I were back in my regiment, and you were one of my subalterns.
I'd punish you pretty severely for this, I promise you."
"Would you, sir?" said Cyril drearily. "I thought I was getting
punished enough. I'm sorry I disturbed you, sir; I only wanted to get
close up, and touch Perry's hand."
"Bah!" cried the colonel. "Why did you want to touch Perry's hand?"
"Because I was so lonely and miserable, lying there with my feet sore.
I couldn't sleep, sir. The stones have cut them, and I was afraid to
wash them, for fear you should see how white my legs were."
The colonel coughed.
"Here; stop a moment, sir," he said, in rather a different tone. "You
see, I might have shot you."
"Yes, sir," said Cyril dolefully. "And it did seem hard to be shot at,
because I felt glad the poor fellow didn't go off the bridge."
The colonel coughed again.
"Hum, ha, yes," he said, a little huskily. "It was a very narrow
escape, of course, and you behaved very well. You--er--yes, of course,
you quite saved his life. But I shall say no more about that now.--
Here, Manning, get Mr Cyril Norton a couple of blankets.--And you'll
come and lie down by us, sir; and mind this: no more evasions, no
attempts to escape."
"I shan't try to escape in the dark," said Cyril drearily. "Where
should I escape to, sir?"
"Ah! of course. Where to, indeed! So recollect you are a prisoner,
till I place you back safely in your father's hands.--Stop! Halt! What
are you doing, Perry?"
"Only shaking hands with him, father," said the lad.
"Then don't shake hands with him, sir. Shake hands with gentlemen, and
not with lads who disgrace themselves by disobeying their father's
orders, and satisfying their own selfishness by causing others intense
anxiety."
Perry drew in a long, deep breath, which did not go down into his lungs
properly, but seemed to catch here and there.
"One moment," said the colonel; "can you make that man Diego
understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then tell him and his companion to go to sleep again."
Cyril said a few words to the guide, and the two Indians dropped down at
once, close to the warm ashes.
"I suppose, then, he knew all about your escapade, sir, eh?" cried the
colonel. "Of course, he must have got you the Indian clothes and
paint."
"It was all my fault, sir; don't blame him," said Cyril humbly. "I'm
very sorry I did it now. It seemed--"
"Seemed? Well, what did it seem, eh? There, hold your tongue now, and
go and lie down by Perry. Recollect you are in an old soldier's camp,
and I forbid all talking now. Stop!--er--are you hungry?"
"No, sir; I can't eat," said Cyril bitterly.
"Humph! There, go and lie down, both of you, and get to sleep.--Once
more, no talking, Perry; not till to-morrow morning.--Good-night, both
of you."
By this time John Manning had taken two soft blankets out of one of the
packs, and handed them to the prisoner with a very unmilitary whisper.
"My!" he said, "what a game, Mr Cyril."
But neither of the boys smiled. They lay down in Perry's old place, and
Cyril uttered a sigh of content, and then a stifled sob, as he felt
Perry's hand seeking for his to hold it tightly.
"Good-night," he whispered, as Perry bent over him, and then there was
another whisper.
"Can father send you back, Cil?" and the answer came:
"It's too late now. No."
Just then the colonel lay down again in his old place, and another
rustling told that John Manning was curling up in his.
"Good-night, Perry, my boy," said the colonel.
"Good-night, father," replied Perry, and then to himself, "Oh, I hope
he'll say good-night to poor old Cil."
He had his wish.
"Good-night, Cyril," came rather huskily.
"Good-night, sir," said the boy, in a voice he could hardly keep steady.
And then came:
"Thank God I did not hit you when I fired, my lad."
Then there was nothing heard but the whispering of the wind below them
among the trees.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE SLIPPERY WAY.
"Awake, Cil?" whispered Perry, just as daylight was making its way down
into the depths of the valley, and a faint glow became visible on one of
the snow peaks.
"Yes," was whispered back, "these two hours."
"Couldn't you sleep?"
"No; not for thinking. It's all very well for you, but I've got to hear
what your father _says_ this morning."
This was unanswerable, and Perry remained silent for a few minutes,
wondering what he had better say next.
Then the inspiration came.
"Look here, Cil," he said; "you won't get on any the better for having a
painted and dirty face. I'll get a bit of soap, and we'll go down and
have a good wash."
"What's the good?" said Cyril. "Dirty painted face goes best with
things like this."
"Yes, but you're not going like this," said Perry. "You must put on
decent clothes."
"Haven't got any," said Cyril sourly.
"No, but I have--two spare suits, and you shall have one."
Cyril gave a start.
"I say, Per," he whispered excitedly, "do you mean that?"
"Of course I do. My things will fit you, and you can have a regular
rig-out."
"Oh!" ejaculated Cyril. "Come on then, quick."
They stole out of their corner to the baggage pile, where Perry pointed
to the portmanteau containing his kit, signing to Cyril to take one end
and help him to bear it a dozen yards away to where a huge mass of rock
had fallen from above.
"Here we are," cried Perry, dragging out one of the suits that had been
made expressly for the journey. "They'll fit you, I know."
"Fit!" cried Cyril excitedly; "of course they will. Once get myself
decent, I shan't so much mind what the colonel says--I mean, I can bear
it better. I did feel such a poor miserable wretch when he was talking
to me in the night. It all seemed so easy just to dress like one of the
Indians; but as soon as I was in that long shirt thing, with my bare
legs and feet, I felt as if I'd suddenly turned into a savage, and
daren't look any one in the face."
"And I don't wonder at it," growled a deep voice. "Here, what game's
this, young gents?"
The boys looked up to see that John Manning was peering over the rock,
and they were so startled for a few moments that neither spoke.
"Going off again, and you with him, Master Perry? Well, you don't do
that while I'm here."
"Don't be so stupid, John," cried Perry, recovering himself. "Can't you
see what we're doing?"
"Yes, that's what I can see, making of yourselves a little kit apiece,
ready to desert, both of you."