"I can't propose anything, sir," said Cyril frankly. "It seems to me
that we might pass one or two of the Indians, but the others would see
or hear the mules."
"And you can propose nothing else?"
Cyril shook his head, and the colonel got up and went out of the hut, to
go and walk up and down where the Indians were busy, giving first one a
friendly nod, and then another, evidently to their great satisfaction.
The party in the hut watched him for a few moments, and then John
Manning said:
"There aren't no better way, gentlemen, than mine. I don't want to kill
none of 'em, so long as they don't try to kill me, or any of you. If
they do, why, of course, it makes me feel nasty, and as if I could do
anything to stop 'em."
"It's too horrid and butcher like," said Cyril firmly.
"Yes," assented Perry.
"Very well, then, gentlemen, suppose you propose a better way. It's of
no use to go an' say, `Please we're tired of staying here, and want to
go,' because that only would be waste of breath."
"Yes," said Perry sadly. "We shall never get away till they give us
leave."
"Hear that, Mr Cyril, sir; that's my young master, and the son of a
stout soldier as never turned his back on an enemy in his life. Don't
say you're going to give up like that, sir."
"No," said Cyril, setting his teeth. "I'm not going to give up, and he
is not going to give up either. We'll get away somehow, though we can't
see the way just now."
"That we will, sir," cried John Manning excitedly. "Bri'sh wits again'
Injun wits. Bah! who says we can't beat them? It's all right,
gentlemen. I know the colonel, and have known him since he was a slip
of an ensign, and I was not much more than a raw Johnny of a boy fresh
from the awkward squad. I say I know the colonel, and he's only been
leading us on. Wait till to-morrow night. He's got some dodge or
another ready to fire off, and this time two days we shall be on our way
back, and the Injuns'll be howling like mad, because they can't make out
which way we've gone."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
PERRY'S HORROR.
"How do you feel, Cil?" said Perry, in the middle of that same night.
"Horrible. Can't sleep. I am hot and itchy, and all of a fidget about
things."
"Father said we were to take things coolly, when he said good-night."
"Didn't say how, did he?" whispered Cyril. "I shall be so glad when we
begin doing something. Anything's better than this waiting to begin. I
say--"
"Yes."
"Isn't it near morning?"
"No, it ain't," said a gruff voice in an ill-used tone. "How's a man to
get a good sleep before he relieves the colonel, if you two young gents
keep on twisting about and talking?"
"All right, we'll be quiet now."
"Ay, do, my lads. Get a good sleep, and have a nap or two to-morrow,
for we shall be travelling all night."
There was silence for the rest of the time in the little camp, broken
only by a weary sigh or two, for no sleep came to the restless lads; and
the next morning found them red-eyed and feverish in spite of the bathe
they had in the intensely cold water of the neighbouring mountain rill.
And all that day they were on the strain, and constantly on the watch
for the colonel, hoping that he would become communicative. But he was
very quiet, and spent the greater part of the day either sleeping or
pretending, and lounging about watching the Indians busy cutting down
trees, or peeling the boughs and twigs.
John Manning, too, looked wonderfully lazy, and avoided the boys, who at
last began to look at each other in despair.
"I can't make it out," said Perry at last. "We are not going to-night,
or father would have said something--don't you think so?"
"Don't know."
"But you don't think we can be going?"
"I think we are," replied Cyril, "and they are doing all this to throw
the Indians off their guard."
Dinner-time came, for which meal John Manning had prepared a very
satisfactory dish from some charqui flavoured with fruit and vegetables,
and the boys anxiously waited again for some communication from the
colonel. But he was still reticent, and after the meal was over, Diego
and his companion were summoned and left to clear the tin bowl which did
duty as a dish, a duty they always carried out to perfection, never
leaving it so long as there was a scrap to finish.
Then came the long, hot, weary afternoon, which the two boys started to
pass under the boughs of a sturdy tree, both feeling their irritability
increase as they listened to the crackling and breaking of wood near at
hand, and the murmur of voices from the Indians, who kept on busily with
their work.
There was a humming noise in the air, as the insects darted here and
there in the hot afternoon sunshine; and from where the two lads lay,
they could see the mountains slope down rapidly into the long deep
valley, filled now with a soft golden haze, while the air was delicious
with the aromatic perfume shed by the trees around.
Cyril felt hot, feverish, and weary still, but at the same time, as he
lay there, it seemed as if that valley at his feet was very beautiful
with the sun lighting it up from end to end, and that it would be a pity
to start that night, before he had had a good restful sleep, and then--
directly after it seemed to him--he felt vexed with Perry for worrying
and shaking him. The next moment he started up to find that the valley
below looked dark, and the sun was on the other side of the mountains,
while the colonel was standing over him, smiling.
"That's better, boys," he said. "I'm glad that you have both had a good
rest. You will be all the fresher for your walk."
"Then you are going to-night, sir?"
"Hush! Yes; of course.--Perry."
"Yes, father."
"Don't go away, either of you, and you must not look excited. Come and
have supper--it is ready--and then wait about by the hut while the
guides have theirs. You will take no notice of anything, but loiter
about outside while John Manning and I act. But be ready to help, if I
call upon you."
"We'll do all you wish, sir," said Cyril excitedly.
"Then do it calmly," said the colonel. "Mind this, the Indians must not
have a suggestion that shall make them suspicious. To them everything
must seem as if we were patiently submitting to our rather easy
captivity. Come."
The colonel led the way back to the fire, close to which their meal was
spread by John Manning, and as the boys drew nearer, they saw that Diego
and his companion were hanging about as if wondering why they had not
been summoned sooner to partake of the meal.
"Yes, we're late," said the colonel aloud, and setting the example, he
took his place and began to eat as calmly as if nothing important was on
the way.
"Come, boys," he said quietly, "make a good meal, and don't look
anxious; there are some of the Indians coming up. Recollect what I
said."
Cyril tried to act his part, and said something in a laughing way to
Perry, but it fell very flat. Still, there was nothing in the scene to
attract attention, and though they were all aware that work for the day
had long ceased near the huts, and the Indians who were not partaking of
their simple meal, were strolling about, and many of them keenly
watching the white party, no head was turned. At last the colonel asked
if all were done, and then rose and signed to Diego and the other man to
come and take their places.
This they did eagerly, and from where Cyril stood now in the
semi-darkness, he could see the men's faces by the light of the fire,
and that they were eating hungrily.
"Did you look to the mules?" said the colonel in a low voice.
"Yes, sir, all ready."
"That's right. Now, boys, the Indians have strolled back, and I don't
think they have set any watch yet. Keep on walking to and fro as you do
sometimes, with your arms on each other's shoulders. Keep between the
fire and the Indians' clearing, and take no notice of anything you see.
We shall not leave you behind."
Cyril's heart beat violently, and he heard Perry utter a low sigh as he
threw his arm over his companion's shoulder and they began walking to
and fro about twenty yards from their fire, while the low hum of many
voices came from the clearing where the Indians were talking together
before settling themselves for the night.
Meanwhile Diego and his companion were eating away as if they had
suffered a three days' fast, and showed no sign of leaving off, till all
at once, just as the boys turned, they became aware of the fact that the
colonel had gone from the spot where they had seen him last, and that he
and John Manning had suddenly appeared in front of the guides, where
they were eating. By the light of the fire they saw that guns were
presented at the men's heads, with the effect of making them throw out
their arms to seize their weapons, but before they could effect anything
for their defence, they were thrust backward, and Cyril at the same
moment saw by the firelight Diego lying upon his back, with the
colonel's foot upon his chest, and the other man in a similar position,
held down by John Manning.
"Keep on walking," Cyril said aloud to Perry, for the latter had
stopped, panting and startled, and Cyril felt him quiver as he
half-forced him along.
"What are they going to do? Kill them?" whispered Perry.
"They're going to master them," replied Cyril. "Don't speak like that.
Recollect our orders. It is to save them from being seen."
The boys kept on their walk, watching the proceedings by the fire as
much as they could, but in less than five minutes there was nothing to
see, for both the guides were bound with a hide rope from the mules'
packages; and urged onward by threats from the colonel's and John
Manning's pieces, they had passed out of sight among the bushes in an
enforced stooping position, a faint crackling telling of the direction
in which they had gone, while a louder crackling and snapping told, with
the accompanying blaze, that something had been thrown upon the fire.
"The bows and arrows," whispered Perry, and they kept up their
monotonous tramp to and fro.
"What are they doing now?" said Perry suddenly, and then he started, for
Cyril burst out into a merry laugh, and gave him a sharp slap on the
back, so suddenly, and with such force, that Perry stumbled forward, and
nearly fell.
"Are you mad?" cried the boy furiously.
"Not quite," said Cyril merrily. "Here, give us your hand, old chap:
I'll haul up. That's your sort. Ahoy! There you are again."
He said all this boisterously, and then in a low whisper:
"Keep it up. Hit me, or do something. Two Indians have come up close
to watch."
Perry trembled violently, but he tried to follow out his companion's
plan, and turning upon him, engaged in a mock struggle, each making
believe to throw the other for a minute or two, and then laughingly
resuming their walk to and fro.
Those laughs were very hysterical, though, and Perry's next words came
with gasps as he said:
"See the Indians now?"
"No; they're either gone back or they're hiding."
"Which? Let's go and see."
"We can't," replied Cyril. "Our orders are to walk up and down here, as
if nothing were wrong. Can't you see it will make them believe we are
going on as usual?"
"Yes," said Perry huskily; "but I wish my father would come now."
"So do I."
"Those two may have got the better of them."
"Not they," said Cyril stoutly. "It would take three Indians to get rid
of your John Manning. Your father will take care they do nothing.
Don't take any notice. Hear that?"
"Yes, some one going away through the bushes. Those two hadn't gone,
and they were hiding."
"Yes."
"But are they both gone now?"
"I only heard one," said Cyril, beginning to whistle a merry tune, but
before he had got through the first strain, there was another faint
rustling among the trees.
"There goes the other," said Cyril quietly, and then he broke into a
loud yawn. "Heigh--he--ha--hum," he said. "How dark it has grown."
"Listen," whispered Perry.
"I heard it," said Cyril. "One of the mules squeaking."
"No, it was a horrible cry. Some one has been killed."
"There goes another then," said Cyril, as a peculiar sound came from the
forest.
"Yes, they are killing the guides."
"I tell you, it was the squeaking of the mules. I know the sound well
enough."
"I'm sure you're wrong," protested Perry.
"And I'm sure _you_ are. If it was the cry of some one being killed,
wouldn't there be a rush of the Indians, to see what was the matter?"
"If they heard it."
"And they would. Trust them for that. The mules are excited and
calling to one another. I believe they are being loaded."
"Oh, how can you take it all so coolly?" groaned Perry. "My heart beats
as if it would break, and I feel a curious choking sensation at the
throat, and all the time you take it as if there was nothing the
matter."
"Do I? You don't know," said Cyril. "I believe I'm worse than you are;
but never mind, try to laugh."
"Laugh," said Perry piteously. "I feel as if I could sit down and cry."
"Leave that to the girls, lad. We've got something else to do. Don't
stop. We must keep on, so as to keep the Indians from thinking there's
anything wrong. There, cheer up. Can you sing any thing?"
"Sing!" cried Perry, in a voice full of reproach.
"Very well, then, I must whistle softly."
He commenced a tune, and got through a few bare. Then he ceased as
suddenly as he had begun, and began talking.
"I say it was very plucky of your father, wasn't it? The boldness of
the plan has made it do. The Indians could not even think we should
make such an attempt."
For a full hour the boys kept up that painful tramp up and down, Perry
growing more and more silent, and Cyril bursting out from time to time
with a little peal of forced laughter. Twice over, they were conscious
of the presence of the watchful Indians creeping furtively among the
trees; but the actions of the boys allayed their suspicions, and they
went back as softly as they came.
"Was it never to end?" the lads asked themselves, and though neither
made any allusion to their thoughts, they were tortured by fancies of
what might have happened, till at last Perry was certain that, instead
of the colonel and John Manning killing the two guides, these two men
had turned upon them and stabbed them to the heart.
At last the boy could bear this thought no longer. He fought hard to
keep it to himself, but it would have vent finally, and as they turned
to continue their weary tramp, he suddenly caught Cyril fiercely by the
arm.
"They won't come back to us," he whispered. "They cannot. Diego and
the other man turned upon them, killed them, and those were their cries
we heard. They're both dead, Cil--they're both dead."
"And your father has come to tell us he has been killed," said Cyril,
with a forced laugh, which was more like a hoarse cry of agony. "At
last," he groaned: "I don't think I could have borne it any longer."
"What do you mean?" said Perry.
"There--by the fire. Here they come."
Perry looked sharply round in the direction pointed out by his
companion, and then the pulses of both seemed to stand still, for they
heard the approach of Indians from the direction of the clearing.
Almost at the same moment, they could plainly see by the faint light of
the fire, not the colonel and John Manning coming to fetch them at last,
but the figures of the guides bending down, and then beginning to
approach, in the soft furtive manner of a couple of wild beasts about to
make their fatal spring.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT.
"He was right," muttered Cyril, as the blood rushed to his head and made
him feel giddy; "and now they mean to have us, but--"
He stopped short, and his teeth made a grating sound as he seized Perry
by the shoulder. "Can you fight?" he whispered. "I--I don't half
know," groaned Perry. "I'll try."
"That's right. We must," the boy continued. "They shall find we're
English after all."
"What are you going to do?" said Perry, holding on by his companion's
arm.
"Get our guns. They're close by the fire there. What are those two
doing?"
"I don't know," was the reply, and Perry gazed hard at the two guides,
who were stooping about the fire. "Yes, I do; they're putting on more
wood."
"Then, as soon as they come toward us, we must run round and try to get
our guns."
They stood in the darkness watching for some moments, while the guides
still busied themselves about the fire, wandering here and there, as if
busy about something; though, after seeing the flames rise, on the first
portion of wood being added, their object appeared vague.
All at once the rustling toward the clearing recommenced, and the boys
looked sharply in that direction, fully expecting that the first attack
would come from there; but the sound grew fainter, and they knew that
the Indians must be going back, apparently satisfied with their
scrutiny. This meant the danger lessened for the moment by one half;
and Cyril now gripped his companion's shoulder more tightly.
"Now, then," he said, "let's get round by the trees to the other side."
"Too late," said Perry; "they are coming here."
Cyril glanced toward the fire, but no one was visible. In the brief
moments during which their backs were turned, the guides had
disappeared, and all was silent; not a sound suggested the spot from
which the enemy would advance.
"We must chance it," whispered Cyril. "Quick; come along this way.
Quiet."
They started away to their right, so as to get round to the back of the
fire; but as fate had it, they went right into the arms of those whom
they were seeking to avoid. Not forty steps had been taken cautiously
through the dark shadows beneath the trees, before Perry uttered a cry
as the two guides sprang up in their path.
"This way, Cil; run," he whispered.
"Hush! Silence!" came in a familiar voice. "Don't you know us, boys?"
Both Cyril and Perry were speechless, so great was the emotion caused by
the surprise, and they stared at the dimly-seen, bare-headed figures
wearing the Indians' long, loose garments.
"Now, quick," said the colonel, stripping off the Indian frock, "off
with yours, too, Manning."
The man obeyed with all a well-drilled soldier's celerity and silence,
and, stooping down, the colonel was about to thrust the cotton garments
in amongst the undergrowth, when Cyril, who had now recovered himself,
whispered a few words to the colonel.
"Good! Capital!" he said. "Only quick, and we'll wait here."
Cyril snatched at the two frocks, and, stooping down, laid them, well
stretched out, at a short distance from the fire, where, in the dim
light, they gave a rough idea of covering a couple of Indians stretched
out in sleep.
It was only the work of a minute, and then Cyril was back to where Perry
stood excited and nervous, for the feeling was strong upon him that,
after all, his father and Manning had slain the two guides.
"Where are the mules?" said Cyril to the colonel.
"Silence! Follow. Stoop till we are well beyond the fire."
"But our guns, sir?" said Cyril.
"I said silence, boy!" replied the colonel, and they went off in single
file for about a couple of hundred yards in and out among the trees,
till the colonel stopped short, and the boys made out that they were
standing by the mules, which were waiting, all ready laden, and with
hanging heads, ready to proceed on their journey. Then, without another
word, the colonel took the rein of the old leader, started off, and
steadily and quietly the others followed, the unladen last, while John
Manning and the two boys followed for some time.
"Here, take your fireworks, my lads," whispered John Manning at last.
"Pouches are fastened to 'em, and well filled with ammunition. I'll
help you to put 'em on as we go."
All this in a whisper, and then Perry said: "You thought of our wanting
them, then?"
"Rum sort of soldier if I hadn't, my lad," growled the man. "Steady.
Keep on walking. Under your right arm, my lad. That's it.--Now you,
Mr Cyril."
"Mine's on all right," was the reply; and then it was always onward and
downward, in and out among the trees, with all around so dark beneath
branches, that, but for the steady, slow pace of the mules, which never
hesitated for a moment, the journey would have been next to impossible.
And all the time, as the rustling, soft, trampling noise made by the
animals' hoofs went on, very few words were spoken, for every ear was
attent and strained to catch the first announcement of the pursuit
having begun.
The two boys felt no inclination to converse, but tramped on silent
enough, while, when anything was said, John Manning was the speaker. He
would begin by enjoining silence in the ranks, and the minute after,
find he had something he must say.
"Don't think they've took the alarm yet, gentlemen," he said, after a
long time. "That dodge o' yourn with the Injuns' frocks was splendid.
When they do come, take your word from me, as I command the rearguard;
and fire low, for we must give them a volley."
Perry shrank from their old servant involuntarily, for it seemed to him
horrible that John Manning should speak in so cheery a tone from time to
time, when, only a short time back, he had imbrued his hand in the blood
of their two guides. But at last he felt constrained to speak, the
words coming forth unbidden.
"Those two guides," he said huskily.
"Ay, poor chaps, it seemed hard, sir," replied the old soldier; "but it
was us or them, and, of course, it had to be them. We was obliged to do
it, or else how was I to get the mules loaded?"
"But it seems so horrible," said Cyril.
"Oh, I don't know, sir. Sort o' tit for tat. They wouldn't ha' been
very particular about us, and it was, as you may say, in self-defence.
But, I say, Mr Cyril, don't you think I got all those packs down to the
mules pretty quick, and the beasts laden?"
"Wonderfully quickly," said Cyril.
"It was, sir, though I say it as shouldn't say it. I did get warm over
the job. Thought I should have had no end o' trouble with 'em, but they
took it as quietly as lambs; and as soon as they found out what was
going on, the pack-mules all hung together and waited their turns, while
the saddle mules seemed to be looking on."
"Of course that was after the--after Diego and the other man--"
"Of course, sir. There'd ha' been no mule packing if we'd left those
two chaps to lift up their lovely voices, and shout to their friends for
help. That would not have done, eh, Mr Cyril?"
"No; I suppose not, if we were to escape."
"And that's what we had to do, sir; for, as the colonel said to me more
than once, `We're not safe, John Manning, for sooner or later they'll
find out why I have come, and then I would not answer for our lives.'
But we're off now in spite of 'em, and well provisioned too. My word, I
did get a warming over those mules; but the colonel's wonderful handy at
the loading, and helped me well. You see, he superintended a lot out in
India, when we had mules and camels to carry our baggage. And we did it
all fine. Listen."
They paused, but the faint pattering of the mules' hoofs was the only
sound; and they followed on again, John Manning keeping silence for a
time, and then bursting out with a chuckle.
"I told you so yes'day, young gentlemen. The colonel 'll have some
dodge to get us off, and there you are! He led, and it was grand the
way in which he had worked it out. He didn't tell me till to-night, and
when he had done, I laughed out. `Think it will do, John Manning?' he
said. `Do, sir?' I says. `Of course it'll do;' and it's done. Don't
suppose those two liked it much, poor fellows, but they had to put up
with it."
"Oh, John Manning," cried Perry excitedly, unable to bear it any longer,
"how can you treat it so lightly? If you had tied and bound the poor
wretches, it would have been different, but to drag them away and kill
them in cold blood! It is horrible."
"Well I _am_ blessed!" exclaimed the old soldier, in a tone and with an
emphasis that showed how he was startled.
"And I'll never believe that my father meant it to be so."
John Manning gave Cyril a dig with his elbow, and he winked one eye, but
the act was invisible in the darkness.
"Why, it was him as 'vented the plan, sir. I only helped carry it out."
"Oh!" ejaculated Perry.
"Hadn't we got to escape, sir?"
"But in such a way!"
"Why, it was a splendid way, Master Perry. But I say I am ashamed of
you to go private court-martialling your own father in that way, and
find such fault with him for helping you to get off!"
"I'm not going to judge him," said Perry. "I only say it was horrible."