Chapter Nine.
The Sculptured Rocks.
“Bravo! Dick, old chap,” exclaimed Earle, turning to his friend, with one hand outstretched in offered help while the other grasped a smoking pistol—“well fought! Are you hurt at all?”
“N–o, I think not,” replied Dick, a little doubtfully, as with the help of the other’s proffered hand he scrambled to his feet. “That fellow, there”—pointing to the body of the ape that had hurled him to the ground—“pretty nearly knocked the wind out of me, while the other did his level best to dash my brains out, and I’ve barked my knuckles rather badly against his chin; but otherwise I think I’m all right, thanks. And you?”
“I?” returned Earle. “Oh, I’m as right as rain. Say, Dick, that was something like a scrap at the last. What? Guess if it hadn’t been for old King Cole, we’d have been in rather a tight place. Look at the beggar. Ugh! he is not pleasant to look at when he’s real riled, is he? He has brought off his kill all right, and I guess we’d better leave him to it a bit. I believe I don’t particularly want to interfere with him just now. Let’s draw off a bit and have a look at one of those dead brutes out yonder. I rather want to examine one; for I guess this is an entirely new species of monkey.”
“They look to me very much like gorillas,” remarked Dick.
“They do,” agreed Earle. “But, all the same, they are not gorillas. There are no gorillas on this continent, so far as is known. The gorilla is, I believe, peculiar to Africa. And these creatures, though they certainly somewhat resemble gorillas in a general way, have certain points of difference, the most important of which is the shape of the skull, while another is their much greater bulk. I have shot several gorillas; but I never saw one to come near any of these brutes in point of size. By the way, where is the one you stopped with a broken leg? We may as well put him out of his misery.”
The creature in question was nowhere to be seen; but they eventually got upon his trail and followed him up to the border of the forest, into which he had evidently retreated; and they came to the conclusion that, as he had contrived to get thus far, they would leave him alone and give him a chance to recover. Then they found one of the dead apes, and Earle subjected the carcass to a long and exhaustive examination, making copious notes and discoursing learnedly meanwhile, though it is to be feared that his remarks and explanations left Dick but little the wiser. It was close upon sunset when at length they returned to the camp, where they were shortly afterward joined by King Cole, once more calm and in his right mind.
They took the precaution to surround the camp with a circle of fires that night, to ward off a possible attack, posting a sentinel at each fire for the double purpose of keeping it going and maintaining a watch.
The belt of forest which the explorers entered on the following day proved to be of no very great extent, the passage through it occupying but a day and a half. Emerging from it, the party crossed a splendid savannah, abounding in game, chiefly of the antelope variety, and large birds somewhat resembling bustard, the tameness of which seemed to indicate that man was practically unknown to them, while it enabled them to replenish their larder with the utmost ease. This savannah extended for a distance of about ten miles, and terminated among the foothills of a range of mountains of very moderate height stretching right athwart the path of the explorers. Among those foothills the party pitched their camp at the end of the day’s journey.
The next day’s march conducted them into country the character of which was different from any hitherto traversed by them. It was exceedingly rugged and broken, treeless, the soil covered with a short, rich grass, which would have rendered it ideal as grazing country, dotted here and there with small clumps of bush, some of which were fruit-bearing, while at frequent intervals great outcrops of metamorphic rock were met with, which time and weather had in many cases wrought into extraordinary shapes.
It was near noon when the party entered a narrow ravine bordered on either side by vertical sandstone cliffs of about a hundred feet high, and here they came to a halt and pitched their camp; for no sooner had they fairly entered the ravine than they found themselves confronted by a splendid example of those extraordinary sculptured rocks which have excited the wonder and admiration of the few travellers in South America who have been fortunate enough to find them.
In the present case the sculptured rock consisted of a stretch of sandstone cliff about two hundred and fifty feet in length by about a hundred feet in height, practically vertical, the entire surface of which was covered with panels presenting a series of pictures portraying what appeared to be a genealogical record of certain customs and ceremonies, mostly of a religious character, of some gone and forgotten race of people. The work was executed in fairly high relief, and the drawing of the figures, of which there were thousands on the entire sculptured surface, evidenced artistic ability of a truly remarkable character, including a considerable knowledge of perspective. The panels portraying religious ceremonies indicated that the sun and fire were, or symbolised, the principal deities worshipped; and there was abundant evidence that human sacrifice was common. All this was, of course, absorbingly interesting to Earle, as was the light which the sculptures threw upon the personal appearance and costumes of the people portrayed. If the artist—or artists, for there must have been thousands of them to have produced such a magnificent and colossal piece of work—could be believed, the departed race boasted some exceptionally fine examples of male and female beauty, while the costumes bore more than a casual resemblance to those pictured on the ancient monuments of Egypt. Earle announced with finality that he intended to remain in camp on the spot, not only until he had minutely and exhaustively examined the sculptures, but also until he had photographed them as a whole and some separately. That probably meant at least a week’s sojourn where they then were.
The proposed arrangement suited Dick Cavendish admirably, for the prolonged halt appealed to him as something very much in the nature of a holiday, especially when Earle declared that he would need no assistance in his photographic operations, so that Dick would be free to amuse himself in any way he pleased. Dick was rapidly becoming as keen a naturalist, in a way, as Earle; once or twice, during the morning’s march, he had observed some particularly gorgeous butterflies flitting about, and he promised himself that he would spend at least a portion of his sojourn in the ravine in an endeavour to secure a few specimens. There was one duty, however, which he at once recognised must fall upon him, which was the supply of the camp with meat, and accordingly, upon the conclusion of the mid-day meal, when Earle started to get his photographic gear ready for the campaign among the sculptures, Dick took his rifle and, accompanied by two of the Indians, proceeded up the ravine in search of game. The country rapidly became wilder and more picturesque as they went, to such an extent indeed that Dick quickly made up his mind to pay it another and more leisurely visit; and after about an hour’s tramp, which carried him into a labyrinth of rocks, he got a splendid shot at a creature strongly resembling a bighorn, which he neatly bowled over and with it triumphantly returned to camp.
On the fourth morning of the party’s sojourn in the ravine, Dick, accompanied as usual by two Indians, set out, immediately after breakfast, in search of meat for the day. Game was not particularly plentiful in that region, but the lad preferred to take his chance of finding something in his accustomed haunts, rather than tramp all the way back to the savannah, and accordingly he proceeded, as usual, right up the ravine, until he arrived at a point where a branch route led off toward the left. Hitherto he had not tried his luck in that particular direction, but he decided to do so now; and after about half an hour’s tramp, upon surmounting the crest of a ridge, he found himself looking down into a small circular basin, surrounded by rocky cliffs, the bottom of which was a smooth, grassy plain, in which, as luck would have it, several antelopes were grazing. The nearest of these, a fine fat buck to all appearance, was at least a thousand yards away, which was much too long a shot for Dick to risk; and he therefore set out to stalk the animal, leaving the Indians where they were to follow as soon as the buck should fall.
There were clumps of bush growing quite close up to the base of the encircling cliffs, offering admirable cover for stalking, as well as a certain amount of shelter from the sun’s scorching rays, and of these Dick gladly availed himself, ultimately succeeding in bringing down the buck with a three-hundred yard shot. Then, while waiting for the Indians to come and break up the quarry, the young man flung himself down in the shadow of a clump of bush to rest.
Stretched there at length in the cool, lush grass, with the great wall of sandstone cliff towering before him, it gradually dawned upon Dick that the enormous mass of rock upon which he was gazing must be that upon the opposite face of which were those wonderful sculptured pictures which Earle was doubtless at that moment busily engaged in photographing, and the thought caused him to regard the cliff with some interest. There were no sculptures upon it, but as Dick allowed his gaze to wander over the face of the cliff his quick eye detected a sort of crack some twenty feet above the surface of the ground, out of which, as he lay regarding it, there came fluttering one of those splendid butterflies, a specimen or two of which he was so eager to obtain; and he at once made up his mind that as soon as the Indians had broken up the buck and carried it away, he would explore that crack, which looked wide enough to allow him to squeeze his body through, and access to which seemed possible by way of a number of narrow ridges and projections in the face of the rock. Accordingly, as soon as the Indians had done their work and departed—Dick having informed them that he proposed to remain in the basin for a while and examine it thoroughly—he slung his rifle over his shoulder and started to climb the rock, reaching the crack with but little difficulty.
He found that the aperture was considerably larger than it had appeared to be when viewed from below and squeezed through it with ease, to find himself in the mouth of what looked like a cave, the dimensions of which, however, it was not possible to ascertain, for within a couple of yards of the entrance he found himself in darkness. But he saw enough to stimulate his curiosity and determine him to see more; and with this object he descended to the plain and, hunting about among the bushes, soon secured a sufficiency of dry twigs and branches to serve as torches. With these and a bit of dry moss he returned to the aperture in the face of the cliff, where, before entering, he ignited the moss with the aid of a powerful burning-glass which he habitually carried about in his pocket, and then, blowing the moss into flame, kindled one of his torches.
At first sight the cave appeared to be of very circumscribed dimensions, being only just high enough for Dick to stand upright in it, while he could touch both its sides at the same moment with his outstretched hands. But it extended back toward the heart of the cliff, and as the lad cautiously groped his way inward the crack gradually widened until at length he found himself traversing a spacious tunnel, piercing steadily deeper and deeper into the heart of the cliff. Determined now to see the full extent of the cave, and beginning to wonder whether perchance it pierced right through the rock, Dick pushed steadily on, oblivious of the fact that his stock of torches was rapidly diminishing; and when at length this fact was forced upon his attention by the necessity to kindle the last torch, it was far too late for him to think of returning, and feeling by this time convinced that there must surely be another outlet at no great distance, he set his teeth and pushed on, hoping to reach that other outlet before his last torch should be consumed. But the hope was vain, for in less than ten minutes Dick found himself in profound darkness, with still no indication of any other outlet than that by which he had entered.
Thus far the lad had gone without any difficulty; the tunnel-like passage which he had traversed for a distance of, as he estimated, nearly a mile, had been without pitfalls or complications of any kind, and he believed it would be possible for him to return by the way he had come without difficulty, even in the dark. He halted to consider the matter, debating within himself whether he should risk everything by pushing on, or whether he should go groping his way back over that long stretch of rough, rocky road in the darkness. There could be no question as to which was the more prudent of the two plans; but there was a vein of obstinacy in Cavendish’s character; he hated to confess himself beaten, and a light draught of warm air coming from the direction toward which he had been heading decided him to take the more risky course of pressing onward.
Accordingly, he resumed his course, holding his rifle horizontally before him to guard himself against the chance of collision with unseen obstacles, while he carefully felt the ground before him with one foot before throwing his weight upon it. Proceeding thus cautiously, in about a quarter of an hour he became aware of a faint glimmer of greenish light on the walls of the tunnel on either hand, and a few minutes later emerged into what appeared to be a great chamber, or cavern, the interior of which was just sufficiently illuminated by the light entering through another tunnel on its opposite side, to reveal the fact that the vertical walls of the chamber were, like the cliff which was occupying Earle’s attention, covered with sculptures from the floor upward as high as the light had power to reach. But it was altogether too feeble to reveal anything of the details of the sculptures, and with a mere glance about him Dick crossed the floor of the cavern—mechanically noting as he did so, that it was smooth and level—and passed into the opposite tunnel, entering which, he at once became aware that his journey was practically ended, for at a distance of but a few yards there appeared before him an irregular opening, into which, through a thick, screen of shimmering foliage, the light of day was streaming. A minute later, and he was once more in the open air, forcing his way through a tangle of bushes which effectually masked the opening from which he had just emerged.
Dick’s first act, after forcing a passage for himself through the screen of bushes, was to look about him, when he found, not very greatly to his surprise, that he was within a short half-mile of the camp, the tunnel through which he had journeyed piercing the great mass of sandstone from one side to the other. Then, knowing that Earle would wish to examine the sculptured chamber, he sought some means of identifying the position of the opening, and soon found it in a peculiarly shaped projection in the face of the rock almost immediately above. This done, he made the best of his way to Earle, who was busy with his camera, and informed the American of his morning’s adventure.
As Dick had anticipated, Earle manifested the utmost interest in the story of the cavern with sculptured walls, going even to the length of announcing his determination to visit it immediately after lunch. Dick accordingly proceeded to the camp and, summoning four of the Indians, instructed them to prepare a goodly supply of torches for the occasion.
When, some two hours later, the friends, accompanied by a couple of Indians—one to hold a pair of blazing torches aloft, and the other to carry the reserve supply—stood in the cavern and glanced about them, they at once became aware that they had stumbled upon a very remarkable and interesting monument. For the cavern, a great circular chamber, measuring forty-three paces in diameter—was, beyond all doubt, an ancient temple, as was made clearly manifest by the character of the sculptures on the walls. These depicted a number of different religious ceremonies, intermingled with subjects which seemed to be allegorical, but apart from the exceedingly curious scenes depicted, the most remarkable circumstance connected with the sculptures was that they were of a totally different character from those on the cliff outside, being much more crude in design and execution, and apparently of far earlier date. The fact, however, above all others, which stamped the cavern as a temple, was the presence of a hideously carved life-size idol, enshrined in a most elaborately carved niche, with a great block of stone before it which had evidently served as an altar.
The idol was a nude male figure, squatted cross-legged on a bench in the niche, its only decoration being a necklace with pendant attached. This ornament escaped the notice of the observers until they came to study the detail of the sculptured niche, when the glint of metal and a sheen of green rays attracted their attention and caused them to inspect it closely. The inspection ended in Earle taking possession of the thing, and subsequent examination revealed the fact that the chain was wrought out of pure gold, while the pendant consisted of a lozenge-shaped plate of gold nearly a quarter of an inch thick, chased all over both surfaces with strangely shaped markings or characters surrounding a great emerald. It was an unique ornament, if only from the barbaric character of its design and execution, while the emerald rendered it valuable, and Earle at once placed it round his own neck for safe keeping, voluntarily proposing to pay Dick its intrinsic value upon their return to civilisation, as his share in the profits of the discovery. He would fain have photographed the interior of the cavern but was reluctantly forced to forgo the gratification of this desire, from inability to produce artificial light of the necessary actinic value. But, to compensate for this disappointment, he spent no less than three days in the cavern, making sketches and voluminous notes.
At length, Earle having completed his photographs of the cliff, and provided against future disappointment by developing and fixing his negatives on the spot, the party moved on up the ravine, and came out upon the lower slopes of the mountain range toward which they had been steadfastly travelling from the moment when they first entered the great swamp. Two evenings later, greatly fatigued by a long day’s march, they encamped near the head of a rocky pass, the steep sides of which were shaggy with bush and trees, among which a number of small monkeys gambolled and chattered incessantly until darkness fell, staring down curiously from the branches at the intruders upon their domain.
The place looked as solitary as though it had never before been trodden by the foot of man, but watch-fires were lighted and sentinels posted about the camp as usual; and in due time the party retired to rest with that feeling of perfect security which the observance of every proper precaution, coupled with a conviction of perfect immunity from danger, is wont to inspire.
Excessive fatigue, aided doubtless by the cooler air of the mountains, caused the leaders at least to sleep heavily until the early hours of the following morning, when they were suddenly awakened by a savage snarl from King Cole, ending in a doleful moan, and they started up on their pallets, instinctively groping for their weapons, only to find themselves instantly thrust back again and their limbs pinioned by an overwhelming crowd of assailants, so many in number that the tent was packed with them. Before they fully comprehended what had happened, or, still less, realised the completeness of the disaster which had befallen them, they were so effectually bound with raw-hide thongs that they could scarcely move a finger, and in that condition were dragged forth into the open air, over the dead and mangled body of poor King Cole, to find the camp in the possession of a band of some eighty stalwart and ferocious-looking Indians, with every one of their followers, save four, like themselves, bound hand and foot. The four exceptions were the unfortunate sentinels, the corpses of whom, transfixed by spears, could be seen lying close to the smouldering watch-fires.
The captors wasted no time in any attempt to rummage the contents of the camp; on the contrary, they took each prisoner, and while half-a-dozen hemmed him in and threatened him with instant death upon the points of their spears, a seventh cast loose the thongs that bound him. Then, still threatening him, they indicated certain portions of the camp equipment and signed to him to pick it up and carry it, thus distributing the entire contents among the eleven survivors, Dick and Earle being each assigned a load like the other captives. The only exception made was in the matter of the firearms, which the captors seemed to recognise as weapons of some sort, and distributed among themselves; though from the carelessness with which they were handled, it seemed doubtful whether the method of using them was understood. This done, the leader of the marauders gave the word to march, and the entire party of captors and captives set off up the pass, each prisoner still surrounded by half a dozen Indians with spears held ever ready to strike upon the least provocation; thus it was impossible for any of them to hold converse with the others, the whites, in particular, being kept as far apart as possible, Dick being stationed with the head of the column, while Earle was compelled to march with the rearguard.
Luckily, as it at first seemed, for the captives, their march was not a long one; for upon surmounting the crest of the pass they found themselves only a short two miles from a native village, the inhabitants of which no sooner perceived the approach of the party than they turned out and greeted it with songs and dances of rejoicing, the fervour of which became almost frantic when, a little later, the presence of the two white men became known. The language of the strangers was utterly incomprehensible to Dick and Earle, and so jealously was every movement of the two watched that they found it impossible to communicate with Inaguy; but after observing their captors for some time, while they seemed to be explaining matters to the villagers, Earle gradually got the impression that the strangers had somehow obtained knowledge of the presence of the explorers in the country and had been watching them for perhaps a day or two, waiting for a favourable opportunity to fall upon the camp and take it by surprise.
Upon their arrival at the village the entire plunder of the camp was deposited in a large hut which was hastily prepared for its reception, and this done, the prisoners were once more securely bound and distributed among the huts of the village, one prisoner to a hut, the owner of which, with the several members of his family, was held responsible for his safe keeping.
The ensuing three days were spent by the captives in this village, during which nothing of moment happened except that they were kept in such rigorous confinement that none was permitted to obtain even a momentary glimpse of another, otherwise they had not much to complain about, being kindly treated, according to savage ideas of kindness. But although, during those three days, the inhabitants of the village seemed to go about their business pretty much as usual, there appeared to be an undercurrent of subdued excitement, coupled with a condition of eager expectancy, which was plain to both Earle and Dick, and which somehow produced in both a considerable amount of apprehension as to their ultimate fate.
Then, well on toward evening of the third day, a runner, hot, tired, and dusty, wearing every appearance of having travelled far and fast, arrived in the village, evidently bearing an important message or communication of some sort; for within a few minutes of his arrival the entire population of the village became imbued with a spirit of the wildest rejoicing and excitement, which lasted far into the night; and early on the following morning the prisoners were brought forth, loaded up with the baggage belonging to the explorers and, surrounded by an armed guard of sixty men, they set out upon a forward march, accompanied by the entire populace of the village, who beguiled the tedium of the journey by continually singing what seemed to be songs of a highly jubilant character.
Chapter Ten.
In the Hands of the Mangeromas.
For five weary days did that company tramp up hill and down dale through rugged, mountainous country, the Indian women carrying their meagre belongings in small bundles wrapped in matting upon their bowed shoulders, while their lords and masters strode blithely along, encumbered only with the weapons they carried, making the air vibrate with their barbarous songs, the unhappy captives meanwhile, staggering under their heavy loads, being compelled to keep pace with their light-footed guard. It was not so bad for Dick and Earle as it was for their unfortunate servants, for the two white men were by this time in the very perfection of training, and capable of an amount of physical exertion that, six months earlier, they would have regarded as impossible; moreover, they were both highly endowed with that inestimable quality known as “grit,” while the miserable bearers were, in addition to their heavy loads, weighed down by a premonition that their present misery was but the prelude to an inconceivably horrible and lingering death.
Late in the evening of the fifth day, after an exceptionally long and fatiguing march, the company reached what was without doubt the capital of the country, for it covered some two hundred acres of ground, and contained dwellings capable of accommodating, at a moderate estimate, at least five thousand persons. It is true the dwellings were of the most primitive description, consisting of huts, for the most part built of wattles and palm thatch, with here and there a more pretentious structure, the walls of which were adobe, and it was indescribably filthy; yet the place was laid out with some pretension to regularity, being divided up into several wide streets, while in the centre of the town there was a wide, open space, or square, one side of which was occupied by a hideous and ungainly idol of gigantic proportions, with a long sacrificial altar at its feet, while on the other three sides stood dwellings of such pretentious character that they could only belong to the chief dignitaries of the place.
The arrival of the captives in this town—the name of which, it subsequently transpired, was Yacoahite—was the signal for an outburst of most extravagant rejoicing on the part of the inhabitants, who turned out en masse to witness the event, crowding about the party so persistently that it was only with the utmost difficulty that the guards, reinforced by a strong body from the town, were able by a free use of the butts of their spears, to force a passage along the streets. The delight of the populace, it appeared, was almost wholly due to the capture of the white men, who were the objects of their unquenchable curiosity, to such an extent, indeed, that it looked very much as though they had never before seen a white man. At length, however, the procession reached the central square, and after having, in obedience to signs, deposited their burdens in one of the biggest of the buildings, the prisoners were divided up and marched away, Dick and Earle, to their mutual delight, being placed together in a small hut, which was at once surrounded by an armed guard of such strength as to render escape impossible.
Fortunately, their limbs were not bound, or their movements hampered in any way, therefore the moment that the wattle door of their prison was slammed upon them and barred on the outside, the pair joyously shook hands as they exchanged greetings.
“Well, Dick, how goes it, old son?” demanded Earle, as he wrung his friend’s hand. “Tired?”
“Yes, I am, a bit,” admitted Dick; “tired, and thirsty too. And just look at me. Jove! I’m ashamed to be seen. I feel as though I hadn’t washed for a month. And you don’t look very much better, old chap. Say! what would you give for a swim in a good, deep river, free from alligators, at this moment?”
“What would I give?” repeated Earle. “Why, a thousand good American dollars, willingly. And I’m not sure that I should worry very much as to whether there were any ’gators in it, or not. By the way, how did you come off that morning when those ginks rushed the camp? Did you get hurt any?”
“Not a scratch,” answered Dick. “Hadn’t a chance to. The beggars were upon me and had me trussed up so that I couldn’t move hand or foot, before my eyes were fairly open. Hadn’t even time to make a snatch for my revolver. Did you get hurt at all?”
“Nope,” replied Earle. “I was just as completely taken by surprise as you were. And I am not at all sure, Dick, but that it was as well. If we—you and I—had been able to put up a fight, we could never have beaten them off, there were too many of them. We should no doubt have killed a few, but it would have ended eventually in our meeting the same fate as poor old King Cole. Poor chap! I’m sorry they killed him.”
“So am I,” agreed Dick. “But I suppose it was bound to be. He would never have allowed them to lay hands upon either of us, so they would be compelled to kill him, sooner or later. And I believe he did not suffer much. They must have killed him on the spot, I think. Peace to his ashes! And now, what do you think is going to happen to us?”
“I don’t know,” answered Earle, suddenly adopting a much graver tone. “My motto is, ‘Never say die,’ for I have been in a good many tight places and have always managed somehow to get out of them. But there is a proverb to the effect that ‘the pitcher which goes oft to the well gets broken at last,’ and it may be that here is where I get ‘broken.’ I don’t know; I don’t care to hazard an opinion. But I wish to heaven, now, that I had not brought you along with me, Dick.”
“Do you really think it as serious as all that, then?” demanded Dick.
“What do you think yourself?” retorted Earle. “What does the capture of us at all mean? Friendly disposed natives don’t do that sort of thing, you know. And why, having captured us, are they taking such extreme care that we shall get no chance to escape? I’m afraid, Dick, it means that they want us for some particular purpose, of which, probably, we shall very strongly disapprove.”
“You mean—?” began Dick.
“Yes,” answered Earle. “Something like that. But say! don’t you take what I’m saying too seriously. I give you credit for being no more afraid of death than I am, therefore I think it only right you should have an inkling of what may possibly be in store for us. But don’t believe that I am going to take lying down what may be coming to us. I shall do everything I know to persuade these savages that they could not do a more unwise thing than hurt either of us. If we should by any chance be brought within earshot of that idol on the opposite side of the compound, I shall try the ventriloquial dodge again, among other things. The worst of it is that I can’t speak these beggars’ language; and for a man’s own idol to address him in a foreign tongue is not altogether convincing, is it?”
“It is not,” admitted Dick, “although it worked away back there, and it may again. Poor Grace! If it were not for her, I should not mind so much.”
“What’s that about Grace?” demanded Earle.
“My sister, you know,” explained Dick. “I have been hoping that, in one way or another, this expedition would enable me to provide for her, so that she would not be compelled to go on very much longer earning her own living. She is all right so long as she can remain with the Mcgregors; but if anything should happen necessitating her leaving them—”
“Say, Dick, don’t you worry about that,” interrupted Earle. “Your sister is all right for three years from the signing of our contract, anyway, for she will have your pay to fall back upon if anything should go wrong during that time. And for the rest, I may as well tell you for your comfort that although, in view of this confounded expedition, I did not think it right to bind Grace to me by a definite engagement, she and I understand each other to the extent that if I should return to England within three years, she will do me the honour to become my wife. And—this of course is strictly between you and me and my lawyer in New York—if I should not turn up in three years, I am to be presumed to be dead, and my will is to be executed forthwith. That will was made on the day before we left New York, and by its provisions your sister inherits everything that I possess.”
“What is that you say?” demanded Dick, utterly bewildered. “My sister—Grace—inherits everything you possess?”
“Guess that’s what I said,” replied Earle, composedly.
“But—but—” stammered Dick, “I can’t understand it. Why should you leave Grace all your property?”
“For two very excellent reasons,” answered Earle, “the first of which I have already explained to you, namely, that I love her—and mean to make her my wife, please God, if we should by any chance get out of this fix. And the second is, that if we don’t and I die, I have nobody else to whom to leave my property. You look astonished, Dick; and, come to think of it, I suppose it is only natural. For while you were kept busy, way back there in Liverpool, over the inquiry into the loss of the Everest, I saw a good deal of your sister, with, I believe, the full approval of your friends, McGregor and his wife. I was attracted to Grace from the very first, and the more I saw of her, the greater grew my admiration of her. McGregor saw what was happening, I guess, and at length he brought me to book upon the matter, pointing out that my attentions to Grace were such as threatened ultimately to engage her affections. I was glad that he did so, for it enabled me to come to a clear understanding with myself. It enabled me to realise that your sister was the one woman in all the world for me; and the upshot was that, after a very frank exchange of views, I was able to satisfy McGregor, and ultimately to come to an understanding with Grace. But, of course, she knows nothing about my will, although I made up my mind what I would do immediately that she consented to wait for me. And the reason why I have not mentioned this matter to you before is that I preferred we should, for a time at least, remain upon our original footing as simple comrades and co-adventurers. But, say, Dick, now that I have told you, are you agreeable to accept me as your brother-in-law?”
“My dear chap,” exclaimed Dick, grasping Earle’s outstretched hand with a strength which made the latter wince—“of course I am. I have seen enough of you and your character to convince me that you will be good to Grace—if we survive long enough to return to her. And if she loves you—and I know that she would never have encouraged you if she didn’t—why—that’s all that really matters. But—poor girl, it will be worse than ever for her if we should both be wiped out.”
“It will,” agreed Earle, gloomily. There was silence in the hut for a few moments as the two friends faced the doom that seemed to be impending; but neither of them was of a pessimistic nature, and presently Earle turned to his companion and said:
“Look here, Dick, you and I have got to buck up, for Grace’s sake as well as for our own. We are not going to take it for granted that we’re down and out, just because we happen to have fallen into the hands of a lot of savages. We’re not going to take, lying down, anything and everything that they choose to hand out to us. I guess I am going to have a chance to make these ginks sit up and take notice before they have done with me, and you bet I mean to do it. Give me a quarter of an hour’s talk with them, and I’ll make them believe I’m the boss medicine-man of South America. If only we could get into touch with Inaguy and prompt him what to say, I would soon make it all right. But, anyway, I’m some conjurer as well as a ventriloquist, and it will be strange if I can’t get a chance to astonish them before the end comes.”
The two friends continued to chat far into the night, discussing various schemes of escape; but the difficulty in every case was their Indian servants, whom neither of them for a moment dreamed of deserting; and at length, quite unable to hit upon any practicable plan, they composed themselves to sleep in preparation for the possible ordeal of the morrow.
Nine days passed, however, and nothing happened, except that—as the prisoners discovered, by peeping through a small chink in the wail of the hut, by way of beguiling the time—day after day the town became more crowded with people, who seemed to be pouring into it from all directions, as though mustering for some great event; while singing, hideous blasts from trumpets made of burnt clay, and the pounding of drums made from hollowed sections of trees, created a deafening din that lasted from early dawn until far into the night. On the ninth day this state of things reached its climax, for the din lasted all through the night without intermission, raging with especial fury in the great square, in the centre of which an enormous fire was kindled, round which multitudes of people, mostly naked, danced furiously, shouting and yelling themselves hoarse, while the trumpeters and drummers seemed to vie with each other in the effort to drown all other sounds.
“I guess,” yelled Earle into Dick’s ear, when the babel of sound was at its height—“this is the eve of some great festival; and before twenty-four hours more have passed, you and I will know our fate. Now, there is just one thing that I want to say, Dick. You and I have done our level best to devise some scheme by which we might save the lives of not only ourselves, but also of Inaguy and the rest of our followers; and we have failed.
“Now, if the worst should come to the worst, there will be no sense in throwing away our own lives because we can’t save those of the others—that would be carrying sentiment to a perfectly ridiculous extreme; therefore, in the last extremity, and if all other efforts should fail, you and I must endeavour to break away, make a sudden dash for the hut where all our belongings are stored, and get hold of a weapon or two. And if we should succeed in that, we must then be guided by circumstances, fight our way out, if there is a ghost of a chance; and if not, shoot ourselves rather than go tamely to the torture stake. How does that strike you?”
“I’m with you,” shouted Dick in reply. “I shall watch for your signal, and act directly you give the word.”
“Good!” returned Earle. And with a grip of the hand the two parted and made their way to opposite corners of the hut where, seating themselves, each in his own way proceeded to prepare himself for the anticipated tremendous ordeal of the morrow.
That ordeal seemed very near when, about an hour after dawn, the door of the hut in which Dick and Earle were confined was flung open, and a gigantic Indian, fully armed, and arrayed in a gorgeous mantle composed of the skins of brilliant plumaged birds, and with a narrow band of gold around his head, clasped to which, one above either ear, was a great scarlet and black wing, like that of a flamingo, beckoned the two prisoners forth. Hitherto they had been treated fairly well, having been supplied with three good meals per day; but no food was now offered them, and both thought the omission tragically ominous.
With a quick grip of the hand, which each felt might be his farewell to the other, the two stepped into the blazing sunlight, and, surrounded by a numerous guard, were led across the square and halted before the altar, which stood at the foot of the idol. But what a change had taken place within the last hour. The great square, as well as the streets leading to it was, with the exception of a small space, packed with people, as were the roofs of the buildings abutting on the square, yet the silence was so profound that, to use the hackneyed expression, one might have heard a pin drop. The small space left vacant consisted of an area some thirty feet square, bounded on one side by the sacrificial altar, and on the other by the front row of spectators, squatting on the ground, these evidently being, from the magnificence of their feather robes and the splendour of their barbaric ornaments, chiefs, to the number of about sixty, in the middle of whom sat an Indian who, by the superlative richness of his garb, the two white men at once decided must be the paramount chief, or king. The third side of this small open space was occupied by a front row of fantastically garbed men who eventually proved to be priests, behind whom stood a dense mass of ordinary spectators, while the fourth side was bounded by a row of nine massive posts, or stakes, to which—ominous sight—were securely bound Inaguy and the remaining eight of Earle’s followers.
Arrived at a spot some five paces from the altar, the two white men were turned with their backs to the altar and the idol, and their faces toward the long array of chiefs, and then the armed guard stationed themselves to the right and left of the prisoners, while the silence hovering over the scene seemed to become more intense than ever.
It was broken by Earle, who turned to Dick and murmured in a low voice:
“That scheme of mine for making a dash at the hut containing our weapons won’t work, Dick. We could never force our way through this crowd. I must try another stunt.”
“All right,” murmured Dick in return. “Go ahead. But I’m afraid it’s all up with us. I don’t see how—”
“You wait,” interrupted Earle, and fell silent again.
Meanwhile, all eyes were intently fixed upon the line of priests who, presently, at a signal from him who seemed to be their chief, prostrated themselves with their faces to the earth, and so remained.
For the space of some thirty seconds nothing happened. Then that vast assemblage was suddenly electrified by a loud voice, issuing apparently from the mouth of the idol, saying, in the Indian language:
“Inaguy, son of Mali, and servant of my son Toqui, speak to this people and say that if they dare to hurt so much as a hair of the heads of the white men, or of you and the others, those white men’s servants, I will visit them in my wrath and pour out upon them pestilence and famine, drought and fire, until not one remains alive. For the white man with black hair is a great medicine-man, capable of working wonders; he has come into this land to do good to my people, and it is my will that no harm shall come to him or his.”
The incredible wonder of the thing, the marvel that their god, who had never before been known to speak, should at this particular and solemn moment see fit to break his long silence, absolutely paralysed the thousands who heard the voice. They could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed, at the gigantic figure, afraid almost to breathe, lest something frightful should happen to them. There were many present who comprehended the meaning of the words, although they were spoken in a different tongue from that generally in use among them, and these began to question themselves:
“Inaguy, son of Mali! Who is he? We know no priest of that name. Is he one of us? Why does he not speak?”
Meanwhile Inaguy, who had once before witnessed such a phenomenon, was not altogether surprised that a god should again intervene to save his master; and turning his face to the idol, he cried:
“Lord, first bid them to release me. It is not meet that I, thy servant, should deliver thy message, bound here to the torture stake.”
“Nay, the man is right,” murmured Jiravai, the king, who understood Inaguy’s speech, and who began to fear that he was like to get into very serious trouble if he was not exceedingly careful. And, rising to his feet, he looked toward Inaguy and demanded:
“Art thou Inaguy, son of Mali?”
“Lord, it is even so,” answered Inaguy.
“Then, release him,” ordered the king. Turning toward the idol and prostrating himself, he continued:
“Great Anamac, god of the Mangeromas, forgive us, thy servants. What we have done was in ignorance—”
“Tell him, Inaguy, that I am displeased with him and his people, for acting as he has done without first consulting me, and that I refuse to listen to him or communicate with him, save through thee,” interrupted the idol sternly.
At the king’s command a crowd of officious guards dashed forward, and with the hardened copper blades of their spears quickly severed Inaguy’s bonds, whereupon the latter strode forward and, puffed up with pride at again being made the mouthpiece of a god, stood before the grovelling figure of Jiravai, haughtily awaiting the moment when it should please his Majesty to rise and receive Anamac’s message. And presently the king, realising perhaps that his grovelling was not doing any good, rose to his feet, and the message was duly delivered.
“It is well,” returned Jiravai. “It must be as the Great Anamac pleases. Yet, say to him, good Inaguy, that if I have erred, it was through ignorance. To-day is his festival, and when the news was brought to me that two white men had been taken alive in my country, I rejoiced, and bade them and their followers be brought hither; for I thought that to sacrifice them upon the altar would be pleasing to him; while as for you and those with you, it was a great opportunity for— But it is as our great Lord Anamac pleases. And now, I would fain know what is his will toward the white men and you, their followers.”
Facing round, Inaguy shouted to the idol, repeating the words of the king’s apology. Whereupon the idol graciously replied:
“It is well. I know that the Mangeromas have erred through ignorance, therefore I forgive them. But it must never be permitted to happen again, for I do not forgive twice. There must be no more human sacrifices offered to me; nor must the Mangeromas ever again eat men; for both are offences in my sight. And touching these white men and their servants, it is my will that the king and his people shall make them welcome in Mangeroma, treating them as honoured guests and doing all things to help them; so shall the Mangeromas derive great profit and happiness from their visit. I have spoken.”
This message Inaguy repeated in the tongue commonly used among the Mangeromas, shouting it in tones which were distinctly audible all over the square, and for some distance beyond it.
“It is good,” answered the king. “Say to our Lord Anamac that his will shall be obeyed in all things, and the white men, ay, and ye, too, his servants, are henceforth my brothers, the sons of my father’s house.” Then, turning to the armed guards, he added, pointing to the eight figures still bound to the stakes:
“Release those men and take them to my guest house until my white brother with the black hair shall be pleased to express his wishes concerning them. As for my brothers, the white men”—he turned to the chiefs immediately about him—“make ye room for them that they may sit, the one on my right hand and the other on my left.”
These orders having been carried out, Jiravai appeared to be somewhat at a loss what to do next. For to-day was the annual festival of the Great God Anamac, and an elaborate programme of proceedings had been prepared, the chief items of which had been the offering up of the white men as a sacrifice to the god, and the torturing to death of the white men’s followers, to which festivity all the people of note throughout Mangeroma had been invited; and now, by the omission of these two “star” turns, so to speak, the whole affair was likely to fall woefully flat. In his perplexity, the king faced round toward the array of priests on the left side of the open space and, addressing the chief of them, said:
“Since the offering of human sacrifices is displeasing to our Lord Anamac, say now, O Macoma, in what other manner shall we fittingly and acceptably do honour to him on this day which is especially dedicated to his service?”
But Macoma, the chief of the priests, was in no humour just then to help his illustrious master out of a difficulty. He was an exceedingly proud and haughty man, the greatest man in Mangeroma, next to King Jiravai himself, and he felt slighted and humiliated to an intolerable extent that, before all that vast assemblage, consisting of the pick of the Mangeroma nation, Anamac should have absolutely ignored him, the chief priest, and have chosen instead to make his wishes known by the mouth of an obscure stranger, coming from heaven only knew where. Therefore, in response to the king’s question, he rose to his feet and said:
“Nay, Lord, ask me not, for I cannot answer thee. Ask rather the man Inaguy, whom it has pleased our Lord Anamac so signally to honour this day before thee and all the people. Doubtless he will be able to tell thee all that thou may’st desire to know.”
And in high dudgeon Macoma resumed his seat.
The king frowned. There was a hint of veiled insolence in Macoma’s manner that at once set his majesty’s easily kindled anger aflame; and it was not the first time that the chief of the priests had so offended, though never until now had the man dared to flout the supreme ruler of the Mangeroma nation in public, much less in the presence of all Mangeroma’s nobility. The fellow threatened to get out of hand if he were not checked, and the present moment seemed to offer an excellent opportunity not only to check Macoma’s growing insubordination, but also that of the priesthood in general, which had for some time past manifested a disposition to claim for itself rights and privileges which Jiravai was by no means willing to concede. Therefore he said to Macoma:
“Thou can’st not answer me, Macoma? Then will I act as seems good to myself. A sacrifice of some sort has always been offered to Anamac on this day, and he shall have one now. And what better sacrifice can we offer him than those who have devoted their lives to his service? Therefore, stand forth, Macoma; we will offer thee and ten other priests, to be chosen by lot, in the place of these strangers whom our Lord Anamac has forbidden us to sacrifice.”
In a paroxysm of mingled anger and consternation Macoma sprang to his feet—as did all the rest of the priests—and for several seconds the king and the chief priest faced each other, the one smiling sardonically at the effect of the bomb which he had hurled into the enemy’s camp, while the other stood clenching and unclenching his hands as he racked his brain in the effort to find an answer to what he had sense enough to understand was a personal challenge on the part of the king, and a challenge, moreover, which, unless he could quickly find the right answer to it, might very easily result in utter disaster to himself. For Jiravai, like most savage kings, was an absolute monarch whom none might beard with impunity, and now, when it seemed too late, the chief of the priests heartily execrated that sudden ebullition of ill-humour which had in a moment brought him and ten of his following to the brink of the grave. Then, suddenly, in a flash of memory and inspiration, the right answer came to him and, lifting his head, he said:
“Be it so, as my lord the king has said. Let him sacrifice us to Anamac, if he will. Doubtless, the man Inaguy was speaking only idle words when he said that our Lord Anamac forbade human sacrifice henceforth. Sacrifice us then, O my Lord Jiravai; and let all Mangeroma see what will happen, and whether any dependence is to be placed on the words of Inaguy.”
The battle was won, and Macoma knew it. So also did the king; for absolute monarch though he was, there were certain things which he dared not do, and to go against the directly spoken word of the god Anamac, and that, too, when the word was the first which the god had ever condescended to utter—was one of them. Therefore, making the best of what he now perceived to have been a serious mistake, King Jiravai smiled across the open space at the now triumphant Macoma, and said:
“It is well, Macoma, I did but try thee. But now, perhaps, having had time to think, thou may’st be able to say what sacrifice, other than human, we may acceptably offer to Anamac.”
Macoma shook his head. The king had given him, to say nothing of the other priests, a very nasty five minutes, and even now, when the danger was past, his nerves were all a-quiver from the shock of finding himself suddenly looking into the eyes of death; moreover he was a man who did not easily forgive; he was unwilling to abate one jot of his triumph, therefore he answered:
“Nay, Lord, I am still unable to answer thee, excepting in so far as this. Let Inaguy be recalled, and let him put thy question to our Lord Anamac, and if the god refuses to reply, then I say let Inaguy be sacrificed as a deceiver.”
“Thou hast answered well, Macoma,” retorted the king. “It shall be as thou sayest; and if our lord replies through his mouth it shall be a sign that Anamac prefers Inaguy to thee, and Inaguy shall be chief priest in thy stead.”
Thus neatly did Jiravai turn the tables upon the man who, a moment before, had been congratulating himself upon having got the best of the king in a public battle of wits.
Meanwhile, Dick and Earle had been interested watchers of the scene; and although the language in which the king and the chief priest had been sparring was strange to them, they caught a word here and there which sounded so nearly like words with the same meaning in the language with which they were by this time becoming fairly conversant, that they were able to follow, without very much difficulty the general trend of the conversation, including that portion of it in which Macoma had ventured to cast a doubt upon Inaguy’s bona fides. And although Earle had no great liking for the task of exercising his ventriloquial powers while seated in such close proximity to the king, he felt that he must make the effort, and make it successfully, too, if Inaguy’s life was to be saved. Therefore, when a few minutes later, Inaguy was led forth, and the king put to him the question which Macoma had declared himself unable to answer, and Inaguy had in turn passed it on to the idol, the latter was heard to reply, sharply:
“Let a young bull be found, without blemish, and let him be slain upon the altar and his carcass be burned before me, and I shall be satisfied; for ye can offer me no more acceptable sacrifice than this and your obedience to my commands. It is enough. I have spoken. Henceforth, trouble me not, for I will speak no more.”