The Nut had often thought that there was something beyond mere defiance of fate in the use of the word Fatalitas that the convict so frequently hurled at the heavens. Chéri-Bibi's life was a secret whose depths no one had ever plumbed but himself. What did anyone know of him? . . . An arm that was upraised and struck home. But between the two gleams of the knife which left behind it two pools of blood all was darkness; as mysterious as the abyss of his soul. . . . Why was his path stained with blood?
He explained to the Nut in a few words, with what terrible irony fate had compelled him to strike down the man whose life he was trying to save. That was the beginning of it all.
The beginning of it all? The Nut sometimes felt an inclination to fathom the mystery of that word all.
"Don't look into it," Chéri-Bibi answered. "It would be hell let loose."
And then he stood up and with a fierce cynicism said:
"You can't want me to account for all my murders. There are too many of them." And he added with a boisterous laugh: "Take it from me that I am past all forgiveness."
* * * * *
"Spot the Nut blubbing because he thinks Chéri-Bibi is dead," went on "Monsieur Désiré" bent on making mischief.
The Nut wished only to remember Chéri-Bibi as the man who liked him and often saved him from an act of desperation; as the man who by a memorable action had saved himself from the guillotine. It seems that after certain adventures of which one of the most sensational was the capture of the vessel which was commissioned to take convicts to the penal settlement in Guiana, he was rearrested in France, brought to trial, and this time sentenced to death.
Chéri-Bibi told the Nut that he had not opened his lips during the trial. His counsel defended him against his will; and when the dread sentence was pronounced the prisoner thanked the jury for their service to him as well as to society.
That very evening as a prison van was taking him back to the central prison of the town in which he was tried, he heard a heart-rending clamor, and as he was stepping out of the van, he saw that the hospital which stood in the same square was on fire.
It was the work of a moment to free himself from his jailors and to leap into the flames. That evening, single-handed, he saved the lives of sixty.
"Fire!" he cried, "I'm used to fire."
He left the hospital only to return to it and to come out again with his precious burdens. When the whole of the inmates had been rescued, he gave himself up as a prisoner. His body was a mass of burns.
Throughout France there was but one opinion: He must be reprieved. Thus the death penalty was commuted to penal servitude for life.
"Fatalitas!" said the prisoner when the news was broken to him. "So there's still need for me to kill someone in the world!"
* * * * *
For a wonder the sight of the Nut's grief ended by softening the hearts of those wild beasts.
"Don't take on, Nut. It's all rot. I tell you that Chéri-Bibi is right enough. To begin with he can't kick the bucket. There are chaps like that. The very sight of them makes death turn tail."
Twenty voices were ready to join with the one which had attempted to hearten the unhappy Nut. The thought of a catastrophe of such magnitude as the death of Chéri-Bibi did not enter the minds of a single one of them. Only a warder—or a mischief-maker like "Monsieur Désiré," would entertain such ridiculous nonsense. The man who could bring down Chéri-Bibi was not yet born. Chéri-Bibi had always done what he had set his mind to do.
When he longed to be off there was nothing more to be said. He knew how to let himself out! The warders were well aware of that. They had seen him subject to the most rigid discipline, never out of sight of a convict guard whose sole duty was to keep watch on his movements, and yet he had found means of getting the better of every obstacle. Moreover he had declared beforehand that he was going away. At the appointed day and hour, the thing was done.
Though he came back again and allowed himself to be recaptured, it was undoubtedly because he could not do without the air of the Pré. As he himself said: "A penal settlement is my hearth and home."
It was known that Chéri-Bibi invariably carried about with him his "outfit;" that is to say, everything that was necessary to enable him to escape when "it suited him." And no one knew how he managed to conceal the things.
On one occasion he allowed himself to be caught. He put his "going away kit" in a shoemaker's last over which he placed a piece of leather studded with nails as if he intended to begin making a pair of boots but the last was hollow and could be unscrewed, and it contained an elaborate collection of "necessaries"—mustaches, whiskers, false hair, a chisel, a small saw for sawing iron made from the spring of a watch, a tiny hand mirror for dressing purposes, needles and thread, and pen and paper.
He often let his shoemaker's last lie about on his bed, and sometimes he folded it under his arm when he went on forced labor.
It was quite an event when one day the inspecting officer who had been noticing the last for some time, ended by considering that the work of making a pair of boots was taking too long and confiscated it.
This time the fat was in the fire. But Chéri-Bibi had no end of other tricks up his sleeve. He would always get the better of them; that was certain.
At this point in the discussion the door was opened and a deputy warder entered. He came to inquire if they had yet discovered the way by which the five convicts had escaped. His two colleagues replied by a shrug of the shoulders.
"Say what you like, they can't have flown away," observed the newcomer.
"Ask Chéri-Bibi."
"Chéri-Bibi's dead."
"Ah, what did I tell you," exclaimed one of the warders. "Our customers here refuse to believe it."
"He was killed in the bamboo plantation. The Commandant himself was leading the battle. Bordière fired the shot. Chéri-Bibi was right up against his rifle. Seems that he turned head over heels like a rabbit. Oh, there's no mistake about it. It was bound to end like that. . . . Good-by. I'm off. . . . Oh, it's made a great to do I can tell you. You must have heard the firing on Devil's Island. There's a great stir among the convicts. But there'll be some pickings for those who find the other four. Bordière is in luck's way. He'll get extra pay this month over this Chéri-Bibi job."
The man left the room. The door was closed behind him and a great uproar of mingled amazement and incredulity arose, for the convicts found it impossible to believe the monstrous story. Chéri-Bibi let himself be knocked over like a rabbit!
Suddenly, while the warders were discussing the event at the far end of the dormitory, a flagstone was quietly raised, and the Nut and the men who were behind the warders saw Chéri-Bibi's terrible and distorted jaw emerge from the cavity.
No, Chéri-Bibi was not dead. He was not even wounded. He had played his trick of tumbling to the grounds as if he were shot dead when the warder fired his rifle, so as to distract the guards' attention from the outlet of his underground passage, which he determined to reach, whatever happened, in order to meet the Nut.
What he reckoned on had come about, and when the guards recognized the figure of Chéri-Bibi falling to the ground as he spun on his heels, they made a rush towards him uttering a shout of triumph.
Bordière, the warder, climbed the bank with a light step calculating in his mind the amount of the extra pay which a deed of this sort would be worth to him. The authorities would undoubtedly be grateful to him for relieving them of a brute whom it was so difficult to keep in his cage.
Men hurried up from all directions. The Commandant himself followed close upon them, and the report gradually spread over the island that Chéri-Bibi had at last returned to the lower regions. Some of the warders, as we have said, declared that they had seen his corpse.
The truth was that they searched for him in vain. Bordière, the lucky Bordière, who was responsible for so smart a piece of work, became enraged when he could find no traces of Chéri-Bibi apart from the marks among the bamboos. He offered his own explanation of the mystery: "I saw him fall here. He gave a loud cry and collapsed. Look at all this blood. He's certainly mortally wounded. He must have crawled away to croak a little farther on."
The thing was inexplicable, something very like magic. The Commandant stood silent, not knowing what to think. Had Chéri-Bibi any accomplices among his men? Had he bought some of them? How was it possible to tell with a man like that?
They related the story that he invariably carried gold-dust on him. Where? How? They were never able to determine. Some of them went so far as to maintain that he could hide at will thirty gold louis in his stomach. He ate gold, swallowed it, got rid of it, secreted it, and recovered it again as he pleased.
It was a pack of silly tales to which the authorities attached no importance, but now the Commandant began to think that there might be something in them.
Nevertheless what had really happened was capable of an extremely simple explanation. Chéri-Bibi had slipped away through the undergrowth until he came to his retreat and thence reached his opening; and the reason why blood was found on the bamboos was because he had wiped his hands, stained with Tarasque's blood, on them. While the warders were searching for a dead body he was in his tunnel; and thus his head appeared in the dormitory at the moment when the news of his death was exciting so much talk.
He summed up the situation at a glance. He saw the warders. He saw the Nut. He saw his brother "lifers" who, transfixed in amazement, restrained the burst of laughter with which they were ready to greet the startling vision that contradicted so flatly the warders' stories.
In a flash the Nut crept into the cavity and vanished from sight, while Chéri-Bibi kept the other convicts at bay by the ferocity of his look.
The flagstone fell back in its place.
When the convict guards turned round nothing seemed changed in the dormitory. Stay! There was one convict the fewer.
Some time elapsed before they noticed it. It was "Monsieur Désiré" who called their attention to it by saying under his breath so that he could be heard only by them:
"Hullo, where's the Nut?"
Then they began their search.
Their personal responsibility was directly involved in this case. They had no inclination to treat it as a joke. And when they made certain that the Nut also had escaped, they fell into a sudden rage. Once more they turned everything upside down and bullied the men in the dormitory, uttering a thousand threats and oaths. They grew violent when a look from "Monsieur Désiré" told them what they wanted to know.
His look pointed to a flagstone, and as the stone was not properly in its place, and the seams were sprinkled with dust, they at once discovered the secret. They ordered the flagstone to be cleared, whereupon the cavity lay open before them. One of them descended into it, requesting the other to remain at his post.
Almost at once the echo of two, three, four shots was heard. The warder running forward in the little tunnel was firing on the fugitives.
The entire staff of the Penitentiary Administration was called into action. By the Lieutenant's orders the clerical staff telephoned to the deputy-chiefs on the other islands, informing them of the escape of six convicts, and instructing them to take the necessary measures to recapture them before they could, by some unforeseen means, reach the mainland.
The gun on the roof of the tower which dominated the penitentiary huts on Devil's Island, placed in position at the time of Dreyfus's imprisonment, was fired, thus proclaiming that the roadstead was closed.
All the convict guards and forces in the islands which the authorities had at their command were set to work hunting for the absent men.
The Inspecting Officer, whom the "lifers" had nicknamed "Haversack," threw himself into the fray with furious ardor; and his exasperation was entirely comprehensible, for Chéri-Bibi had already played tricks on him; but the peculiar incidents of this last trick which had been carried out under his very nose were more than he could bear. The miscreant had killed Tarasque by the light of his cigar!
He worked himself up into a fury when, on returning from his rounds in the dormitories, he learned that other convicts had followed Chéri-Bibi in his flight, while nothing was known of the means by which they had escaped.
He went with his men to meet the Commandant, who had finished his beating-up of the game and, like himself, had not obtained a glimpse of even Chéri-Bibi's shadow. Of course no one now believed in his death.
When the Commandant was informed of the extent of the disaster, he exclaimed to the Lieutenant:
"We must warn Cayenne, Kourou, Sinnamarie, St. Laurent and the other stations on the coast. I look upon it as most unfortunate, but we mustn't lose time. The convicts must have felt certain of being able to leave the roadstead or they wouldn't have attempted such a stroke, and possibly they have made terms with some vessel passing through. What's that Dutch schooner which dropped anchor off the harbor last night? Perhaps she has lowered a boat, or perhaps the men have joined some small craft by swimming out to her."
"Let's hope the sharks will get 'em!" returned the Lieutenant.
"Meantime, while we are looking for Chéri-Bibi here, the other convicts have probably already got outside our waters. Go and telephone to Cayenne and Kourou at once."
"I suggest, Commandant, that it might be better while our people are telephoning to Cayenne for me to go in the motor-launch to the mainland. I should get to Kourou very quickly, for it is only about eight miles from here, and I could convey orders to Sinnamarie and St. Laurent, and see personally that the steps which have to be taken are carried out. Not forgetting that if I meet our 'jail-birds' on the way I can bring them back to you at once."
"I agree. Take a couple of well-armed overseers with you, and shoot at sight anyone you may meet who refuses to obey orders."
The Lieutenant saluted and hurriedly made for the jetty.
We left the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker hiding in the fore deck-house on the launch. They still remained there in a frame of mind that it is easy to picture. Sufficient time had elapsed for them to realize that their escape was no longer a secret to anyone. The commotion in the island, the galloping of patrols, and finally the firing of the gun on Devil's Island, sufficed to put them in possession of the facts.
"We're badly done," the Burglar said aloud. "There's no hope for us with this caboodle as we can't make her go. If Chéri-Bibi and the Nut turn up we may be able to come to an understanding."
Instead of Chéri-Bibi and the Nut they saw the Lieutenant and two warders, armed to the teeth, hurrying towards them. The three men boarded the launch.
The runaways had not stirred. In the pitchy darkness which shrouded them they might hope to escape observation for a while. Their last chance depended upon none of the men coming in to the deck-house for a length of rope or any article necessary for the working of the launch.
They held their breath. Fortunately for them the engineer was not on board and the officer would have to put off without him. He would have his hands full attending to the engine during the journey. He had already taken from his pocket the special part of the machinery and placed it in position.
The convicts had more to fear from the warders, but at the word of command the latter climbed to the top of the deck-house, where they remained, rifle in hand, keeping watch, and peering into the night. The convicts could hear the sound of their movements above them.
The officer himself unmoored the chains and threw them into the deck-house, where they fell on the Burglar and the Joker, who did not dare even to make an exclamation!
And the launch put off.
They first sailed round the island at full speed. Obviously the officer had no intention of leaving those waters without first making this circular tour which might, if he had the least luck and discovered anything unusual, put him on the track of the fugitives or reveal to him some part of their scheme.
Finding nothing suspicious, he returned to the roadstead, hailed the Dutch schooner, jumped aboard her, and quickly learned that all was in order and that her ship's boat and dinghy had not been lowered. After exchanging a few words with the captain he returned to the launch.
During his short absence the four convicts were greatly tempted to dash out of their retreat and attack the warders.
But it would have been a risky enterprise, offering very little prospect of success. The warders were armed and would have shot them down like dogs. Moreover, it would have been difficult to take them by surprise. At the least sound coming from below they would have been on their guard and realized that the game for which they were to go hunting so far away was close at hand! Not to mention that they were in the roadstead and assistance would be forthcoming immediately. If the convicts wished to attempt an onset of that character it would be better to wait until they were under way.
The launch was now steering for the mainland and fast leaving the islands behind her.
The crossing was rapid. The launch cut through the water in excellent style. No incident occurred during the brief passage.
The adventure was shaping so splendidly for the four convicts that they had but to let things take their course. They would very soon see what was what. An immense hope began to dawn in them.
The launch came-to alongside the pontoon at Kourou. It was here that the drama for the Parisian and his gang would reach its climax. They were nearing the crucial moment.
The chains with which the launch was moored were in the deck-house, resting on the convicts' knees! Could they suppose that the officer and the warders would lay hold of them without discovering the men in their lair?
They had every reason to hope so, because the ends of the chains were outside the deck-house, and all the warders had to do was to stoop and pick up these ends and the rest of the chains would be at their disposal. That was what actually did happen.
A warder stooped and even turned his head towards the retreat in which the miscreants stood ready to leap forth at the least incident, but he failed to observe them.
The officer, as was his custom, made the engine unworkable by removing the special part, and after mooring the launch, climbed on to the pontoon, ordering his two men to follow him. The three of them soon vanished into the darkness.
The Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. During the last half-hour they had scarcely dared to breathe.
The Burglar took off his cap, and bowing in the direction taken by the "Haversack," said with an intonation of mingled excitement and gratitude: "Good-by, and thank you."
Soon they were crouching on the pontoon on the look-out for the guard who was stationed at this point. As they could not see him, they partly rose and began to run for the shore, when suddenly they heard behind them loud shouts and the order to halt.
Of course they ran for all they were worth. A shot was fired after them.
"Look out," grunted the Parisian. "Now for the forest, and in less than no time!"
Though the warder was taking pot-shots at them, Chéri-Bibi and the Nut had received too great a start to run any risk of being hit. When, a few minutes later, the warder came to the outlet of the tunnel through which the six convicts had escaped, he set up a music which may be imagined.
The two convicts found that they were cut off from the road to the jetty, and were obliged to fall back into a small wood of tall forest trees.
They strove again and again to get back to the mass of high rocks on the beach, but all their attempts to do so were discovered, and it was with a feeling of gloomy despair that Chéri-Bibi, who did not know that the launch had left the jetty, was fain to relinquish the idea.
The warders started again with renewed vigor to search the wood. They fired their rifles and revolvers into the trees on the off chance. They cursed and swore in their wrath.
Their imprecations were leveled at Chéri-Bibi, who had so often given them trouble, and whom they had never been able to capture when once he had taken to his heels. It was always he who, after a few weeks' stay in the forest, gave himself up as a prisoner.
The escape of convicts, especially on the mainland, was somewhat frequent. The old offenders imprisoned there were subjected to a vigilance which was less strict, and, like Chéri-Bibi, they disappeared for a time and then returned of their own free will, having finished what they called their "short holiday." They had taken the opportunity to scrape together a little gold dust in localities known only to themselves, and then, weary of the terrible life in the forest and its manifold dangers, they returned to take their places in the penal settlement.
Search them as the warders might, nothing was ever found on them. They were up to all sorts of extraordinary and unsuspected tricks for hiding the gold dust which enabled them to buy certain luxuries in Cayenne and in the wood-cutting establishments.
But how did Chéri-Bibi get away from the islands without falling a prey to the sharks which infested those waters?
At any rate, on this occasion the warders were pretty well certain that he was still on the island. They had caught sight of him and the Nut at the moment when they were taking refuge in the forest.
"Let's go to the coal depot," whispered Chéri-Bibi to the Nut, realizing that they were being surrounded.
The naval authorities kept a huge stock of coal in the Îles du Salut. Chéri-Bibi had more than once found a safe retreat there. In order to discover a man hiding in an immense store of coal and compressed fuel, the entire mass would have to be turned upside down and removed.
During the hours when the convicts were "resting," and were less subject to supervision, Chéri-Bibi was wont to make his way to the depot and dig out passages and recesses known only to himself and undreamt of by any one else. Such places would always come in handy one day or the other. The time had arrived to take advantage of them once more. To reach the place, without hindrance if possible, he went the longest way round, making a wide sweep behind the victualling department.
He stopped to take breath, and then skirting the "sugar-loaf" of the island, finally arrived at the coal store.
But, curse it all, the depot was surrounded by a body of warders who were guarding the approaches. It was evident that experience of past escapes had put the authorities on the alert. Nothing was to be done in that quarter.
Chéri-Bibi uttered an oath, and as he swore a flash pierced the darkness and a bullet whistled between him and the Nut.
Once again their presence had been detected.
In this way they were chased, by degrees, all over the island, until they reached the main buildings in which were imprisoned men who had refused to obey the warders, or been sentenced by the local courts.
Here, notwithstanding that a stronger force of men than usual was posted on guard, the doors were kept locked. That evening, however, one door was ajar and Chéri-Bibi and the Nut slipped through it. On this door was painted in black letters the one word: "Guillotine."
Chéri-Bibi and the Nut did not find themselves alone. Two bodies and two heads lay in a basket; two heads which had fallen that very morning. . . .
And then Pernambouc, the prison executioner, came in, closing the door after him.
He was in a merry mood.
He had returned from the canteen where he had been entertaining his friends. He had been standing treat to them throughout the day. He was very pleased with himself.
Pernambouc was a man of a cheerful disposition, and he found that life had its pleasant side. The pleasant side of life for him was the execution of other men.
Therefore Pernambouc was singing:
He did not complete the verse. He turned round, and by the red gleam of a lantern slung on the wall he recognized Chéri-Bibi and the Nut.
He did not utter a cry nor make a movement. He only regretted his omission to close the door when he first went out, and he stood waiting.
Chéri-Bibi was not long in coming to the point.
"Look here, there's a chance for you to make a bit. Instead of placing those bodies in your sack and throwing them, as you always do, off the jetty, put us, the Nut and me, in sacks one after the other and drop us into the sea in the ordinary way, but as near as you can to the 'Haversack's' launch. Do you follow me?"
"How much?" asked Pernambouc.
Chéri-Bibi undid the lining in the waistband of his trousers and took out something which glittered. Pernambouc unhooked the lantern from the wall and bent over the shining substance.
"I'll give you half this gold dust," said Chéri-Bibi.
"I want the lot," returned Pernambouc.
Chéri-Bibi offered to give him half then for carrying the Nut first, and the other half when he came back to fetch him.
"That's a fair proposal," said Pernambouc. "All right, my lord. But what am I going to do with my corpses?"
"You've only got to bury them here. You can easily find a way of getting rid of them. In the meantime you needn't be afraid they'll come to life again."
A minute later the Nut, quivering in body and soul, slipped into the loathsome sack intended for one of the guillotined men.
Pernambouc hoisted it on his shoulders.
The warder, whose absence from the jetty Chéri-Bibi had observed at the beginning of his flight, had hurriedly taken up his post as soon as he heard the first rumors of the convicts' escape. He, too, was in a merry mood, and it may be that his gayety had received its inspiration from the same source at which the worthy Pernambouc had refreshed himself.
The man caught sight of the executioner as he laboriously crept forward with the sack on his bade. He went to meet him and asked facetiously:
"Is that shoddy goods heavy?"
"Yes; it's not as light as a feather," he returned. "I'm dying to get rid of it."
"Fire away!" said the warder. "They're sure of 'the convicts' grave' this evening. It's as though the sharks knew about it; for I've seen them turning over and over near the jetty."
"Whereabouts?" asked Pernambouc.
"At the far end."
"I'm going to give 'em something for supper," said Pernambouc with a hideous laugh.
"I'll come with you," said the warder in a sprightly tone.
As he went along Pernambouc became aware that the "Haversack's" launch was no longer moored to the jetty. A grim laugh shook him from head to foot.
Nevertheless he was not a bad sort of man. He had, as we have said, a generous disposition, and when he was at the canteen he had no liking for "drinking alone without standing treat;" but at the thought of the face that the Nut would pull when, once in the water, he discovered that the launch was on a trip and sharks were waiting for him, he could not help roaring with laughter.
"Well, old man, are you satisfied with your little business?" asked the warder.
"Yes," returned Pernambouc. "Things are not so bad. I've earned my pay to-day. I'm very well pleased with myself."
When he came to the end of the jetty he laid his sack on the ground.
"Where did you see the sharks?"
The warder's presence somewhat inconvenienced him, but when the man stooped over the water trying to catch a glimpse of the monsters in the trough of the sea, Pernambouc made the most of the opportunity to throw his sack down.
When the warder turned round at the sound which the sack made as it struck the liquid element he could see only a dark mass which was lost to view in the swirling foam. Almost immediately the waves were swollen by another eddy a few feet away, and the leaping shadow of a huge dog-fish glided over the luminous and phosphorescent sea and disappeared in the direction of the Nut. Above the spot where he had fallen the waters swished and seethed and then grew still.
"What a pity it's dark," exclaimed the warder. "We might have seen if the sea is red."
"Oh, never fear," returned Pernambouc. "That's another one dead and in his grave." And he walked away singing to himself:
But the Nut was not dead. Before he touched water he had ripped open the sack with his knife.
He at once swam under water, making a vigorous effort to reach the spot where he believed the launch was moored. . . . No launch was there!
But in her place a shark was swimming towards him, a shark who had already turned on its back, its jaws wide open like a yawning gulf.
The Nut understood what tactics should be followed. They were the chief topic of conversation during the time the convicts were "resting." He dived and passed under the shark. The monster lost the scent and hunted its prey on the other side of the jetty.
But what was he to do? From his position he could see the warder seated on the top of the steps by which alone he could land on the jetty.
He dived again and swam under water, intending to get back as quickly as he could to the beach, at the rear of the warder, by swimming round the jetty if the sharks gave him sufficient time!
Not for a second did it enter his mind to surrender in order to get out of his awful plight. Rather a thousand deaths than return again to the life of the penal settlement. He might reach the beach in time to meet Pernambouc with his new load, and save Chéri-Bibi from the terrible danger to which he himself had been exposed. . . . They would hide themselves once more. . . . And the launch would return.
He managed to swim round the jetty when the monster who missed him before and was continuing the hunt, appeared in front of him, and once more turning on its back glided towards him opening its voracious jaws.
It is this somewhat perplexing movement which the shark must make in order to seize its prey that enables pearl fishers, for example, to work in waters infested with them and, in most cases, to avoid them. As soon as the brute turns on its back, the man plunges under it, and sometimes he is quick enough to rip it open by a magnificent stroke of his knife, a weapon which he invariably carries in his teeth.
The Nut had not sufficiently practised this sort of trial of skill to think of anything but flight. He quickly retreated to the jetty and he knew that on this side a large iron ring was affixed which was used for mooring small craft. He clutched it with one hand, almost exhausted, his exertions having made so great a demand upon his muscular power; and before the brute was upon him he managed to seize the ring with both hands and lift himself out of the water by the strength of his wrists.
The shark brushed against him as it passed under him, snapping its jaws on the empty waters and vanishing in the obscurity.
Meantime Pernambouc returned to fetch Chéri-Bibi, who had lived through an agony of suspense. In his friendship, as in his love or hatred, Chéri-Bibi was always in extremes. His heart had adopted the Nut. To be conscious that the Nut was in danger was for him the cruellest of torments.
When Pernambouc entered his hut he found him seated on the basket which contained the bodies of the guillotined men. The lantern threw its beams on a face that might well have struck dismay in the least sensitive.
So little sensitive as he was a shudder passed through Pernambouc.
"It worked very well," he threw at him without waiting to be questioned.
"Is the Nut on board the launch?" asked Chéri-Bibi.
"The Nut is on board the launch," returned Pernambouc, holding out the second sack to Chéri-Bibi, and claiming from him the balance of the gold dust.
A few minutes later Pernambouc appeared once more on the jetty staggering under his immense burden. The warder lay drowsing on the steps. Pernambouc had to jostle him slightly.
"Let me finish my job."
"Oh, that's number two," grunted the warder. "He looks heavier than the first. Shall I give you a hand to swing him in?"
"Don't trouble. . . . Look here, go back a little way along the jetty. . . . I thought I saw the Commandant over there. He's cursing like mad, and turning the hole damn island upside down to-night."
"Is it a fact that Chéri-Bibi is dead?" asked the warder as he went up the steps of the jetty.
"Oh, with a man like that you can never tell." So saying, Pernambouc bundled the sack into the water, and it was swallowed up in a huge eddy.
Pernambouc had not gone far when a hollow exclamation came from the sea, sending once more a shudder through him to the marrow: "Fatalitas!"
"What's that?" exclaimed the warder. "I thought I heard someone's voice."
"You're imagining things to-night."
The warder did not persist. He was attracted by the distant throbbing of the launch.
"Hullo, here's the Inspecting Officer back again," he exclaimed.
"Yes, yes," returned Pernambouc. "Here's the launch. And his day's work finished, his duty performed, he went back to his dormitory like a well-disciplined 'convict.'"
The Commandant had also caught the hum of the approaching launch. He reached the jetty in time to receive the officer when he landed, and to learn that his instructions had been carried out, but that no trace of the fugitives had been seen.
"It's something very like witchcraft," exclaimed the Commandant as he left the jetty with the officer. "We haven't discovered anything either."
At that juncture the warder was not a little taken aback to see the launch put off from the jetty without apparently any crew being on board her. He shouted, called for help, and fired several shots at her on chance. The officers rushing up in haste could scarcely believe their own eyes.
Meantime Chéri-Bibi and the Nut had at last found each other, boarded the launch, and reached the open sea. The engine was running to perfection. They might consider themselves out of danger. Suddenly Chéri-Bibi exclaimed:
"The barque!"
This was the sailing ship whose business it was to convey the convicts to the various penitentiary establishments and to keep guard.
The coast was quite near. Nevertheless Chéri-Bibi and the Nut had barely time to run the launch aground before the boat which was lowered by the barque landed a body of warders who at once started firing on them.
"We've got 'em; we've got 'em," they bellowed.
But it was not long before their pursuit was brought to a standstill. They were obliged even to fall back, for they heard a crackling sound all around them.
Chéri-Bibi had set fire to the forest.
Chéri-bibi and the Nut had taken a serious step in entering the primeval forest. How many convicts who had escaped and sought refuge in it had found death; death in its most terrible form? They must needs struggle against all and everything—hunger, fever, wild beasts and men.
It sometimes happened that men who were engaged in clearing a new part of the forest came upon partly devoured remains of human bodies. That was all that was left of an escape which had created some sensation at the time of its occurrence.
None but a very old jail-bird regards the forest as a friend who would defend and keep him. As we have said, more than one convict, weary of its savage life, returned and gave himself up as a prisoner.
Nevertheless Chéri-Bibi said to the Nut:
"I know my forest. They can send every warder in the colony after us. I defy them to capture us."
In order to keep back for a while the men who were pursuing them, he had simply set fire to a great accumulation of trees of all sizes and species which had been felled by the ax some months previously, and which the burning hot tropical sun had entirely dried up. This mass became in a few minutes like a gigantic furnace, which spread the blaze to an entire quarter of the living forest, so that, perceiving the extent of the conflagration, the Nut anxiously inquired if they would not themselves fall victims to their own method of defense.
The wind which had arisen when darkness fell blew north and north-west, and drove the flames towards Cayenne. The Nut, feeling instinctively that animals were fleeing in the opposite direction, that is to say with the wind behind them, tried to persuade Chéri-Bibi to turn towards the north-east; but he stopped him with a word.
"That way we are bound to meet warders who must be preparing to bar our passage. Do as I say, and don't let's leave the fire."
The Nut did as he said, thinking to himself that though they were almost certain, of course, to avoid the warders by fleeing in this direction, they ran considerable risk of being roasted alive. As a matter of fact they felt that the greatest heat from the furnace was behind them.
Now they cut a caper.
"That's done it; we're saved," exclaimed Chéri-Bibi. And he pointed through the tropical climbers which were already beginning to crackle around them, to the crimson waters of a river.
"The river . . . the Kourou river!"
A few minutes later they swam across it.
"Look out for alligators!" cried Chéri-Bibi, and then immediately afterwards sinking his voice: "Under water. . . . Put your mug under water. . . . Warders about! . . . I prefer alligators."
At that moment a launch filled with warders sent in pursuit of them, hove in sight at the bend of the river.
Hiding themselves in the thick of a mass of reeds and aquatic plants, Chéri-Bibi and the Nut were obliged repeatedly to dive to avoid being seen in the dazzling light of the conflagration, for the giant trees of the ages-old forest seemed like prodigious candles uniting heaven and earth in one glow and one illumination.
"Go ahead!" ordered the petty officer, and the launch speeded up the river against the tide, and finally disappeared from view.
Chéri-Bibi and the Nut felt fairly certain that they had now thrown the warders off the scent, for obviously they still believed that the two men were at some point on the opposite bank of the river. Thus they landed on the right bank, and leaving both the river and sea behind them, plunged boldly into the heart of the jungle.
Chéri-Bibi seemed to be following some well thought-out plan, for he interrupted their journey from time to time to take his bearings. Their progress, moreover, had become extremely difficult, and the Nut made the suggestion that they might now call a halt for a little sleep, and set out again the next day.
Under the canopy of the high forest trees and in the dense entanglement of creepers and parasitical vegetation of all sorts, they forged their way in murky darkness.
"Have you anything to light a fire with?" said Chéri-Bibi in answer to the Nut's proposal. "No, of course you haven't. Well, I've got three matches left, and I needn't tell you that after our dip in the river they won't light, so what then, old man? To go to sleep at night in the forest without having a fire beside you is to stand a pretty good chance of waking up in the jaws of a jaguar. Come on. We'll have a sleep during the day."
Thus they moved on for the remainder of the night, conscious that if they stopped to lie down they would close their eyes in utter prostration.
Chéri-Bibi sought to encourage the Nut by telling him stupendous stories of the jungle, so stupendous, in fact, that the Nut had some difficulty in believing them. What strange tragedies and what legends of mysterious and fabulous fortunes were associated with the gold-diggers! . . . Meantime they were almost naked, and each carried a knife as his sole weapon.
"As we've been walking for such a time, it can't be long now before we come to the Pupa," said Chéri-Bibi.
"What's the Pupa?"
"It's a small river which flows into the Cayenne, and, of course, it bars our route. We are bound to come up against it whether we go a little farther one way or the other. So when we get there we shall be able to see how we stand."
The Nut's feet were bleeding. He would have liked to take off the rough shoes which were the regulation shoes served out by the Penitentiary Administration; but Chéri-Bibi set his face against it.
"We're going through a forest which is full of rattlesnakes, old man, and nothing is more poisonous than those reptiles. One bite is enough! Make as much noise as you can as we go along so as to drive them away—and keep your shoes on!"
They frequently used their knives to cut a path through the inextricable tangle of undergrowth, and they made two staffs for themselves, veritable boar spears, from a wood as hard as iron, called gun wood. As they proceeded they beat the thickets right and left, and often heard the spring of some wild animal as it took itself off in the darkness. At length dawn suddenly broke.
Chéri-Bibi started to run. The Nut heard him shouting:
"The Pupa! . . . The Pupa!"
He managed to drag himself so far and dropped, at the end of his endurance, before a stream whose cool waters lapped the clear rocks. Chéri-Bibi lay flat with his face in the water drinking . . . drinking. The Nut bent down and drank out of the same cup; and afterwards both slept a dreamless sleep in the shade of the branches which overhung this enchanting stream.
So overcome were they by sleep and exhaustion that they did not hear the approach of four men somewhat noisily descending the bank of the river which they too were longing to reach. When their eyes fell on Chéri-Bibi and the Nut, the four men stopped with one accord. It was the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker.
The delight of the four miscreants, when they saw before them, at their mercy, the two beings whom they most hated in the world, knew no bounds. They were armed with axes which they had seized together with some food—already consumed, however—as they passed through a woodcutting establishment near Kourou.
They had but to lift their arms and strike; and already the Parisian was shaking his ax in the air and staring at the Nut with a look in his eyes in which the craving for murder had already sent the blood. But the Joker who had the coolest head among the gang, agreed with the Burglar, who was the most cunning, that it was a matter that demanded consideration. They dragged the Parisian and the Caid away, and there was a council of war.
The result of the discussion was that the four convicts put off for a while their treacherous attack. The Joker's line of argument was, moreover, entirely convincing. It was no secret, he said, that Chéri-Bibi possessed at some spot in the forest a hiding-place in which he must certainly have taken the precaution, during his earlier expeditions, to collect together such things as provisions and so forth to prevent himself from dying of starvation. From all appearance the two scantily dressed men, who lay overwhelmed with sleep, and defenseless, had not yet reached any of those hiding-places. Would it not be better, before disposing of them, to wait until they themselves had betrayed their hoard to the men who, like the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid, and the Joker, stood most in need of it?
Having made up their minds, they retraced their steps slightly towards the north so as to be behind the two men when they resumed their journey. But they kept to the banks of the Pupa, which were obviously some sort of guide to Chéri-Bibi.
As a matter of fact, when Chéri-Bibi woke up, he first took his bearings, and then roused the Nut from his heavy slumber, and both followed the river bank, making for the south-west.
The Parisian and his gang did not lose sight of their movements. And they had the satisfaction of seeing Chéri-Bibi halt at the foot of a tall tree, lift a boulder, and dig the earth underneath with the point of his wooden spear. The Nut lent him a hand. They seemed to work with growing excitement. To those who were watching the scene, there could not be the shadow of a doubt that at that spot stood the hiding-place in which their treasure was concealed.
At last Chéri-Bibi stooped forward and after rummaging in the earth began to pass sundry articles to the Nut.
The Burglar, who knew how to steal through the forest without making a twig crackle just as he knew, in Paris, how to move about a flat at night without stumbling against the furniture, had crept forward pretty close to the two men without arousing suspicion, and was eagerly watching the scene. To begin with, the hiding-place contained a kit-bag full of articles which were of prime necessity. The Burglar heard Chéri-Bibi enumerate them in a hoarse voice: a compass, a small lantern, a saw, some tins of preserved meat, spices, two bottles of rum, a pocket-lighter and tinder, and an iron box containing identity papers which would enable a convict to return to France as an honest man.
"There are several honest men in that box," said Chéri-Bibi, with a grunt of satisfaction. "You will be able to make your choice."
Then there was a bottle filled with a brownish liquid. It was an antidote to the stings of snakes.
Chéri-Bibi had thought of everything; but undoubtedly the prize of the collection was a large box from which he drew forth two hatchets for felling trees, a rifle, a revolver, some ammunition and three dynamite cartridges.
"It's all in first-rate condition, because I took the precaution of covering the kit-bag and the box with a thick layer of bully-tree gum," observed Chéri-Bibi.
The Nut did not know how to express his delight. He burst into laughter. For the first time since he had been in the penal settlement he laughed. He had no suspicion, unhappy man, that not far away from him a pair of eyes were fastened on those treasures and gleaming with covetousness.
Had the Burglar's three confederates been with him, possibly he might not have wavered but fallen upon the two friends before they were in possession of their weapons. Possibly—because Chéri-Bibi and the Nut, even unarmed, were men to be feared.
They had by this time satisfied their hunger from a tin of preserved meat, and Chéri-Bibi slung his rifle on his shoulder ready to set out for the chase.
"Sharpen your teeth," he said; "I'm going to have a look round for your dinner, and I can assure you that there won't be such a spread even at the Commandant's table. But let's do a little fishing to start with."
"Are you going shooting and fishing at the same time?" inquired the Nut, who since he had seen the good things at their disposal had forgotten his troubles and was as light-hearted as a child.
"You'll soon see how I do my fishing," returned Chéri-Bibi.
He went up to the river bank and, handing his rifle to the Nut, took from his precious kit-bag, which he had flung over his shoulders, a dynamite cartridge. A minute later the cartridge exploded in the river, and straightway dozens of fish, both big and small, floated on the seething waters, belly upwards.
"Well, what do you say to some fried fish?"
"I'm sorry we've got rid of a dynamite cartridge. We've only two left."
"That's more than we shall want," returned Chéri-Bibi. "What's the use of them if not for fishing? In the old days, when I amused myself by going prospecting for gold in the forest, they came in handy, but now I've no need of them, and I'll tell you why after dinner."
Chéri-Bibi began shooting, and had the good fortune to "bring down" a tapir and a partridge. The partridge was the size of a chicken and the tapir as big as a pony. In South America the flesh of the tapir is considered one of the best among red meats; and with the fish which they picked up on the surface of the water after the explosion of their dynamite cartridge, their dinner could not fail to be an appetizing one.
They pitched their camp some three hundred feet from the Pupa under a great forest tree, dug a hole, lighted a fire, and when the hole grew as hot as an oven, slipped the skinned carcass of the tapir into it.
They ate their fill and drank the river water with a dash of rum in it. At the finish Chéri-Bibi fished out of his bag some tobacco and they smoked and chatted in great good humor.
The Nut regarded their mode of existence as perfect, and declared that he could not understand the conduct of those escaped convicts who, having had the unexpected good fortune to reach the forest, returned and surrendered themselves as prisoners. Chéri-Bibi as he listened to him gave a peculiar smile.
Night was coming on. An impressive silence reigned over the face of all living things.
"Well," said Chéri-Bibi, speaking in an undertone as if he feared to be overheard by the very trees. "Well, I, who love the forest, I tell you that I cannot look upon it without a tremor, and particularly during those hours, like the present, when it ceases to breathe. Its silence terrifies me. . . . I've never been afraid of but two things—my knife for others and the forest for myself. For the forest is like myself. . . . Sometimes it wants to do good, and it is at those moments that it slays. The forest is something like my elder sister. . . . I love it very much and it loves me very much, and yet it would make an end of me as it would make an end of anyone else, because when one is born to commit murder there's no way out of it. Some crime is on foot at the moment when one least suspects it. Be on your guard. You must never take any risks. The forest is full of mysteries; full of fumes which kill; of plants and animals which carry death in their breath. And then there are other things besides plants and animals. . . . There, listen . . ." snorted Chéri-Bibi, as he grasped his rifle and peered into the gloom behind the Nut. "Didn't you hear?"
"No. . . . What was it?"
"A man's breathing."
Chéri-Bibi remained standing for several minutes with his ears pricked up listening to the sounds of the forest, and then he came back and seated himself again beside the fire and threw ashes over it.
"I assure you," he said, sinking his voice, "that something was breathing not very far away from us, and that something was a man. Perhaps it was a medicine-man who was passing and came up to have a look at us. In any case, let's put out the fire, which throws too much light around, and use the lantern. That will be enough to drive away wild animals, while a big fire, you know, attracts any man who may be in the neighborhood. . . . So you didn't hear anything? No, you can't tell. Sure enough, there's only one wizard who would come so near. It's a pity that Yoyo isn't here."
"Who or what's Yoyo?"
"Yoyo is undoubtedly the chief magician or medicine-man of the forest. He's the man who taught me a thing or two! He has a cure for everything. He can drive away evil spirits. . . . And he gave me the antidote for the stings of snakes. I'll introduce you to him in three or four days' march from her. He's an Indian who comes from the Emmerillons, and he and his family just managed to escape being eaten by a savage tribe—the Roncouyennes."
"Even though he's a magician?"
"Oh, in those days he was only an apprentice magician. He hadn't passed his examinations!"
"Do magicians have to pass examinations?"
"The Indians about here call their medicine-men piayes. A goodly number of them claim to be piayes, but if they are not the real article they do not impose on anyone. There are certain recognized tests by which it is impossible to mistake a genuine piaye. Such a man knows how at a given time to make a tiger or jaguar obey him. You must understand that these men are familiar with every scent and plant, and the peculiar detritus with which they have to sow the track of these animals in order to make them come to the place to which they wish them to come."
"Is Yoyo a friend?"
"A very great friend. It was I who saved him from death. And ever since then he and his brothers have worked for me in a secret place in the forest. A great quantity of gold is stored in that place; more gold, perhaps, than you would be able to carry away with you."
Chéri-Bibi mounted guard during the night and looked after the Nut as though he were a child. He managed to rig him up a crude sort of hammock by twisting together a number of creepers and suspending them to a tree. It served to protect the Nut from the excruciating stings of the innumerable ants which constitute the mortal plague of Guiana at night time. Next morning the Nut could not be sufficiently grateful, nor did he know how to express the feelings of friendship with which his heart was overflowing. He was quite at a loss.
"Never mind about that," said Chéri-Bibi, as they broke camp. "That's a matter between me and the good Lord. He has been rather hard upon me, and we have not always got on well together. But the good Lord allowed you to cross my path, and I am thankful for it. You know that in my particular sphere of life, one doesn't come across a mug like yours every day. Yours is not the mug of a bad lot. That's all. I like you because I've often seen you grieving and calling out for your mother like a kid, and because you're a white man, with the soul of a priest. You give me peace, in fact. Enough, we'll say no more about it. . . . And then you must know one thing, old man—everything that I have is yours. My life, my gold—everything. My life will be useful to you here, and my gold will be useful to you in Europe. I have a fair quantity of it. . . .
"Yoyo alone knows where I keep it. We must continue our way day and night. I shan't be easy in my mind until we meet Yoyo. The other medicine-men are afraid of him, and the redskins from Taheca to Paramacuas obey him. Yoloch, the native devil, and Goudon, the native god, are devoted to him. He rules the forest."
"Where is Yoyo?" asked the Nut.
"In a part of the forest which very few people except his family and myself know, I promise you. . . . However, nearly every Sunday he comes to do a little marketing at Sanda's bar and store in the village where the gold-diggers live."
They pushed rapidly forward during the next two days and nights. Every now and then they met natives, who greeted them with the usual civilities but kept their distance.
"Hodeo." ("Good day.")
"Akonno, Feî-de-ba?" ("Thank you, how are you?")
"Li vacca bouilleba." ("Traveling is pleasant, thanks be to Heaven.")
"Diafonno." ("May your journey continue prosperous!")
Sometimes they encountered natives who were able to speak French fairly well. The Nut could not help expressing his astonishment.
"They mix in high circles, my dear fellow," explained Chéri-Bibi. "They're regular frequenters of the wood-cutting establishments and the penal settlements on the coast. Yoyo speaks French as well as you or I."
Other natives jabbered a mixture of French and Pupian which was not without its humor.
"How lifika? (How are things?")
The Nut asked Chéri-Bibi if it were true, as was declared, that certain tribes in Guiana practiced cannibalism.
Chéri-Bibi nodded his head.
"There are some. There are not many, but there are a few when the opportunity for a good 'feast' offers itself—you follow me—and we can't bear them any grudge for it. From what I hear, it's not so very bad. . . . In general, the natives are quite decent sorts if the medicine-men do not egg them on. But there are tribes who work only with these 'feasts' in view. They don't live in these parts, but much farther away, near Pelzgoudars. Yoyo told me that in that district you must take no risks. . . . Those people are fond of tasty dishes!"
"What about the terrible tribe of Oyaricoulets?"
"I can tell you that I've never seen the tribe of Oyaricoulets, and I really believe that those who talk the most about them haven't seen them any more than I have. Still, one can never tell. The jungle is a world to itself, and we must never be astonished at anything. The story runs that these people have big ears resembling the ears of donkeys, and enormously long legs. They're giants, in fact. They climb trees like monkeys. They are said to be armed with bows as big as my arm, which carry an incredible distance, and of course they 'eat' the stranger within their gates. It's said, too, that they have noses as big as a macaw's beak. Stuff and nonsense!"
About eleven o'clock on their third night, Chéri-Bibi fell asleep, utterly done up, and the Nut was mounting guard. With rifle in hand he listened to the weird night noises of the forest, and often he gave a start, imagining that he heard a stirring in the underwood, and even, as Chéri-Bibi said, a man's breathing.
Once or twice he got up to make a tour of the camp, stopping with ears on the alert, and taking a step forward only with the greatest caution. Chéri-Bibi's stories of forest witchcraft were like an obsession on his restless mind.
Several times he stared into the darkness ready to fire; and then he laughed at his childish fears and came back and sat down beside Chéri-Bibi.
Nearly an hour passed in this way. Suddenly there was a very distinct creaking, as of some body bearing down upon making its way through the undergrowth. And then he caught a sigh—it was very distinctly a breath, for it was something more than a sigh—like a human whisper.
The Nut shook Chéri-Bibi who, however, slept on. He reproached himself for trying to awaken him from his heavy slumber; and so as to make sure that he was not the victim of his over-excited nerves, he stole, with rifle at the ready, towards the sound which he fancied he had heard.
The noise was repeated, but it seemed to be moving away.
The Nut went forward boldly, and suddenly emerged into a small clearing, in the center of which was a native on his knees with arms upraised in the shining moon, sighing and, seemingly, giving himself up to infinitely sad incantations.
It was an Indian clad simply in the skin of a carnivora. His face was curiously tattooed, while his long hair was parted in the middle. His eyes gleamed in the dusk like the luminous eyes of an animal while he sobbed forth his muffled and singular litany wherein ever and anon occurred the refrain: "Galatha! Galatha! Galatha!"
He failed to perceive the Nut, who stood hidden behind a tree. "That's a magician, a piaye, who is calling upon Yoloch or Goudon," said the Nut to himself. But he had no desire to break in upon the man's supplications.
Suddenly the piaye was surrounded by a band of infuriated redskins, whose leaping shadows appeared enormous to the Nut and filled him with affright. They seemed to be bounding as high as the trees, and the play of the moonlight through the branches lent itself to the fancies of a man who had been listening all day to exciting and fantastic stories of the forest.
He fled, convinced that he had seen the Oyaricoulets, and he gave no rest to Chéri-Bibi until he allowed himself to be dragged away still half asleep. At last when he was entirely awake in the early morning, and the dreaded country was left far behind, he said:
"Tell me what you saw."
"I saw the Oyaricoulets."
"But what else?"
"They were preparing to commit every sort of crime, and dancing like madmen round a magician who broke forth into frightful lamentations, crying 'Galatha! Galatha!'"
"Well, it was some poor man who was mourning the death of his wife, his galatha. And you were witnessing a sort of mass for the repose of her soul. . . . May Goudon protect her and defend us from Yoloch! It takes very little to astonish you."
During the remainder of the day Chéri-Bibi gave particular attention to the physical features of the country through which they were passing. In the afternoon his face lit up with a smile; and the Nut surmised that all was as well as well could be with them.
They left the Pupa and were following the course of another river which flowed towards the north-east. Strangely enough the forest was no longer inimical to them. Everything, on the contrary, seemed to assist them in their purpose. They came across a path which enabled them to cover a considerable tract of ground without unduly fatiguing themselves.
At last, in the evening, they reached the top of a wooded height, from which Chéri-Bibi could point out to the Nut the gold diggings and the village in which the prospectors lived.
The bar and store which Señor Sanda had set up in the heart of the gold-prospecting district stood on the banks of a stream which, some three days' march farther on emptied itself into the Oyapok, a river which constituted the frontier between French Guiana and Brazil. The bar was an establishment similar to those, called albacen, which are to be found in the forest solitudes of Gran Chaco.
Here everything was sold that could be of use to the worker in the forest—tools, provisions, preserves, tinware, clothes, arms, munitions and every variety of alcohol. It was at once a bar and a grocer's shop. It was likewise a gaming-house. Men entered it with their pockets well filled with gold dust, and left it to work in the "sluices," having lost their all. Other men quickly made a fortune, but they did not keep it long. Truth to tell, Señor Sanda was the only man in the place who grew rich.
One Sunday, in the large saloon bar, constructed of wooden planks with a corrugated iron roof, men were having an exciting game at the table, at the far end of the room, near the counter behind which Sanda, assisted by his "boys," was serving out rum and Indian spirits to chance customers.
At the gaming-table gold dust passed from one hand to another, and little bags were emptied on the turn of the dice or filled to an accompaniment of shouts, protests and a general uproar, which were followed suddenly by intervals of intense silence.
Near the door the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker were seated at a table with a bottle before them. They were chatting somewhat furtively as they eyed, by turns, the proprietor, new arrivals as they came in, and the table at the other end at which a mad game was in progress.
"We might imagine ourselves at the Jockey Club," said the Joker.
"You dry up," said the Parisian.
The four men had no gold dust. They were penniless, but they were in possession of an important secret which had brought them to that village and filled them with a dim but splendid hope. They had overheard Chéri-Bibi and the Nut's conversation about Yoyo and his hoard of gold.
Consequently they had performed surprising feats, marching day and night in order to arrive at the diggings before the two men.
During the last twenty-four hours they had been hunting, without success, for Yoyo. At last they ran aground at Sanda's bar, and were now seated with a bottle in front of them for which, seemingly, they would find some difficulty in paying.
Suddenly the Parisian stood up and said:
"Don't you trouble about me, but go on with your chatter." And he showed them a set of dice with which they were quite familiar.
He went to have a look at the men at the gaming-table where a certain amount of disorder reigned. The men were arguing about a throw of the dice. The Parisian forked out a piece of linen which might possibly have been a handkerchief with a knot at the end of it containing an appreciable quantity of the precious metal.
He took a hand in the game.
His first victim was a woolly-headed half-breed, who came from the diggings with a well-lined belt. Half an hour later he had lost the lot. He swore, for that matter, that he had been robbed, and the quarrel was about to lead to blows, for two other diggers had come in and taken sides against the Parisian, when Señor Sanda stepped between them and declared that he only allowed gentlemen who were above suspicion to enter his place. Sanda exercised absolute authority. He could expel from his gaming club anyone who failed to meet his approval without having to consult any committee of management.
The Parisian, in the manner of a great aristocrat, at once ordered the most expensive drinks and invited everyone to have a drink with him, paying a large sum in advance to Señor Sanda without moving a muscle of his face. Then the Parisian, as he had foreseen, was favored with Sanda's smile, and the sound of the dear man's voice was as pleasant to hear as the gold dust was pleasant to look upon.
The Burglar, the Caid and the Joker joined them and took part, as may well be imagined, in the general carouse.
"I've unloosened the tongue of the pub-keeper," said the Parisian. "We must try to make the most of it."
The Parisian poured the gold dust which he had won into his wide-brimmed felt hat, and letting it run through his fingers, said to Sanda:
"Poor beggars! I've probably taken the result of six months' work away from them."
"Oh, not many of them make their fortunes in the diggings apart from a few Indians who discover a real vein and hide themselves from Europeans as though they were the plague . . ." returned Sanda. "See that man passing over there?"
"Where?"
"Opposite the bar. . . . That's a celebrated magician. He knows where the gold is, does that man. . . . He's called Yoyo."
The Parisian made a dash for the window. He saw a man going past who was in the full vigor of youth.
His appearance was somewhat startling, and even demoniacal. He wore his hair plaited in little tresses. He had a fine figure and moved gracefully. It would be difficult to withstand his flashing gaze.
The convicts kept their eyes fixed on him.
"He comes here to buy the necessaries for the yaraqué feast, which is the most important event of the year. The Indians carry through the village their flags made of basket-work, which they fix on tall bamboos, beat on their various drums, and play a sort of flute made from dead men's bones."