The Devil-Tree of El Dorado: A Novel
by Frank Aubrey · English · Gutenberg #43944 · 675,516 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Devil-Tree of El Dorado: A Novel
Author: Frank Aubrey
Illustrator: Leigh Ellis
Fred Hyland
Release date: October 13, 2013 [eBook #43944]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEVIL-TREE OF EL DORADO: A NOVEL ***
_THE DEVIL-TREE OF
EL DORADO_
[Illustration: "IT WAS PASSED ABOUT; NOW LIFTED HIGH IN THE AIR BY ONE
END, THEN BY THE OTHER."
_Frontispiece._] [_Page 249._]
_THE DEVIL-TREE
OF EL DORADO_
A novel
BY
FRANK AUBREY
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY LEIGH ELLIS AND
FRED. HYLAND._
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
156 FIFTH AVENUE
LONDON: HUTCHINSON & COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1897,
BY
NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY.
PREFACE.
SHALL RORAIMA[1] BE GIVEN UP TO VENEZUELA?
[1] The Indians of British Guiana pronounce this word Roreema.
Shall Roraima be handed over to Venezuela? Shall the mysterious
mountain long known to scientists as foremost among the wonders of our
earth--regarded by many as the greatest marvel of the world--become
definitely Venezuelan territory?
This is the question that hangs in the balance at the time these words
are being written, that is inseparably associated--though many of
the public know it not--with the dispute that has arisen about the
boundaries of British Guiana.
Ever since Sir Robert Schomburgk first explored the colony at the
expense of the Royal Geographical Society some sixty years ago, Roraima
has remained an unsolved problem of romantic and fascinating interest,
as attractive to the 'ordinary person' as to the man of science. And
to those acquainted with the wondrous possibilities that lie behind
the solution of the problem, the prospect of its being handed over
to a country so little worthy of the trust as is Venezuela, cannot be
contemplated without feelings of disappointment and dismay.
This is not the place in which to give a long description of Roraima.
It will suffice here to say that its summit is a table-land which,
it is believed, has been isolated from all the rest of the world for
untold ages; no wilderness of ice and snow, but a fertile country of
wood and stream, and, probably, lake. Consequently it holds out to the
successful explorer the chance--the probability even--of finding there
hitherto unknown animals, plants, fish. In this respect it exceeds in
interest all other parts of the earth's surface, not excepting the
polar regions; for the latter are but ice-bound wastes, while Roraima's
mysterious table-land lies in the tropics but a few degrees north of
the equator.
Why, then, it may be asked, have our scientific societies not exhibited
more zeal in the solving of the problem presented by this strange
mountain? Why is it that unlimited money can, apparently, be raised
for expeditions to the poles, while no attempt has been made to
explore Roraima? Yet, sixty years ago, the Royal Geographical Society
could find the money to send Sir Robert Schomburgk out to explore
British Guiana--indeed, it is to that fact that we owe the discovery
of Roraima--but nothing has been done since. Had the good work thus
begun been followed up, we should to-day have been able to show better
reason for claiming Roraima as a British possession. But, as the writer
of the article in the _Spectator_ quoted on page 3 says, "we leave the
mystery unsolved, the marvel uncared for." This article is commended
to the perusal of those interested in the subject, as also are the
following books, which give all the information at present available,
viz.--Mr. Barrington Brown's 'Canoe and Camp Life in British Guiana,'
and Mr. Boddam-Whetham's 'Roraima and British Guiana.' Mr. Im Thurn's
'Among the Indians of British Guiana' should also be mentioned, since
it contains references to Roraima, though the author did not actually
visit the mountain, as in the case of the first named.
As an illustration of the confusion and uncertainty that prevail as to
the international status of this unique mountain, it may be mentioned
that in the map of British Guiana which Sir Robert Schomburgk drew out
for the British Government, it is placed within the British frontier.
But in the map of the next Government explorer, Mr. Barrington
Brown--'based,' he says, 'upon Schomburgk's map'--it is placed just
inside the Venezuelan boundary; and no explanation is given of the
apparent contradiction. Again, another authority, Mr. Im Thurn (above
referred to), Curator of the Museum at Georgetown (the capital of the
colony), in his book says that Roraima "lies on the extreme edge of the
colony, or perhaps on the other side of the _Brazilian_ boundary."
These references show the obscurity in which the whole matter is at
present involved.
Apart, however, from the special interest that surrounds Roraima owing
to the inaccessible character of its summit,[2] it is of very great
geographical importance, from the fact that it is the highest mountain
in all that part of South America, _i.e._, in all the Guianas, in
Venezuela, and in the north-east part of Brazil. Indeed, we must cross
Brazil, that vast country of upwards of three million square miles, to
find the nearest mountains that exceed in height Roraima. Consequently,
it forms the apex of the water-shed of that part of South America; and
it is, in fact, the source of several of the chief feeders of the great
rivers Essequibo, Orinoco and Amazon. Schomburgk, in pointing this out,
dwelt strongly upon the importance of the mountain to British Guiana,
and insisted that its inclusion within the British boundary was a
geographical necessity.
[2] Mr. Barrington Brown says the mountain can only be ascended
by means of balloons (see article previously referred to on
page 3); and Mr. Boddam-Whetham came to the same conclusion.
Finally, Sir Robert's brother, Richard Schomburgk, a skilled botanist,
who had visited almost all parts of Asia and Africa in search of
orchids and other rare botanical productions, tells us that the country
around Roraima is, from a botanical point of view, one of the most
wonderful in the world. "Not only the orchids," he says, "but the
shrubs and low trees were unknown to me. Every shrub, herb and tree
was new to me, if not as to family, yet as to species. I stood on the
border of an unknown plant zone, full of wondrous forms which lay as if
by magic before me.... Every step revealed something new." ('Reissen in
Britisch Guiana,' Leipzig, vol. ii., p. 216.)
Are our rulers, in their treatment of the question, bearing these facts
sufficiently in mind? Are they as keenly alive as are the Venezuelans
to the importance of Roraima? If they are, there is no sign of it; for
while, in the Venezuelan statements of their case, there are lengthy,
emphatic, and repeated references to the importance of Roraima, on the
English side--in the English press even--there is scarcely a word about
it.
From these observations it will be seen that there is reason to fear
we may be on the point of allowing one of the most scientifically
interesting and geographically important spots upon the surface of the
globe to slip out of our possession into that of a miserable little
state like Venezuela, where civil anarchy is chronic, and neither life
nor property is secure.
One of the avowed objects of this book, therefore, is to stimulate
public interest, and arouse public attention to the considerations that
actually underlie the 'Venezuelan Question,' as well as to while away
an idle hour for the lovers of romance.
It has been suggested that, if it is too late to retain the
wonderful Roraima as exclusively British--and to effect this it would
be well worth our while to barter away some other portion of the
disputed territory--then an arrangement might be come to to make it
neutral ground. Standing, as it does, in the corner where the three
countries--Brazil, Venezuela and British Guiana--meet, it is of
importance to all three, and, no doubt, in such an endeavour, we should
have the support of Brazil as against Venezuela.
* * * * *
With regard to the oft-discussed question of the situation of the
traditional city of Manoa, or El Dorado--as the Spaniards called
it--most authorities, including Humboldt and Schomburgk, agree in
giving British Guiana as its probable site. We are told that it stood
on an island in the midst of a great lake called 'Parima'; but no such
lake is now to be found in South America anywhere near the locality
indicated. An explanation of the mystery, however, is afforded by the
suggestion that such a great lake, or inland sea, almost certainly
existed at one time in precisely this part of the continent; in that
case what are now mountains in the country would then have been islands.
Indeed, most of British Guiana lies somewhat low, and it is estimated
that if the _highlands_ were to sink two thousand feet the whole
country would be under water--the mountain summits excepted--and there
would then be only 'a narrow strait' between the Roraima range and the
Andes. In this great supposed ancient lake the group of islands now
represented by mountain summits might well have been the home of a
powerful and conquering race--as is to-day Japan with its group of more
than three thousand islands--and Roraima, as the highest, and therefore
the most easily defensible, may very well have been selected as their
fastness, and the site of their capital city.
Schomburgk thus states his speculations upon the point, in his book on
British Guiana, page 6:--
"The geological structure of this region leaves but little doubt
that it was once the bed of an inland lake which, by one of those
catastrophes of which even later times give us examples, broke its
barriers, forcing for its waters a path to the Atlantic. May we not
connect with the former existence of this inland sea the fable of the
lake Parima and the El Dorado? Thousands of years may have elapsed;
generations may have been buried and returned to dust; nations who
once wandered on its banks may be extinct and exist no more in name;
still, tradition of Parima and the El Dorado survived these changes of
time; transmitted from father to son, its fame was carried across the
Atlantic and kindled the romantic fire of the chivalric Raleigh."
* * * * *
As a natural sequence to the foregoing arises the inquiry, What sort
of people were those who inhabited this island city, or who 'wandered
on the banks' of the great lake? Here much is to be learned from the
recent discoveries of the Government of the United States who, of late
years, have devoted liberal sums to pre-historic research. The money
so expended has been the means of unearthing evidence of a startling
character--relics of a former civilisation that existed in America
ages before the time of its discovery by Christopher Columbus. The
Spaniards, as we know, found races that were white, or nearly so; but
these later discoveries go to show that long anterior to these--at
a time, in fact, probably coeval with what we call the Egyptian
civilisation--America was peopled with a white race fully as cultured,
as advanced in the sciences, and as powerful on their own ground as the
ancient Egyptians; and as handsome in personal appearance--if some of
the heads and faces on the specimens of pottery may be accepted as fair
examples--as the ancient Greeks.
It has long been known that America possesses extraordinary relics of
a former civilisation in what are known as the great 'earthworks,'
which are still to be seen scattered about in many parts of the
continent, and which, as vast engineering works, challenge comparison
with the pyramids themselves. But now discovery has gone much
further; bas-reliefs and pottery have been found that set forth with
marvellous fidelity many minute details concerning this pre-historic
people--their personal appearance, and their ornaments and habiliments;
the style of wearing the hair and the beard; and other particulars
that can be appreciated only by inspection and study of the reduced
fac-similes lately printed and issued by the Government of the United
States.
Many of them relate to the custom of human sacrifice which, as most
people are probably aware, prevailed largely in America when the
Spaniards first landed there; though few, perhaps, know the terrible
extent to which it was carried. Prescott tells us that few writers have
ventured to estimate the yearly number of victims at less than twenty
thousand, while many put it as high as fifty thousand, in Mexico alone!
If we consider that the lowest of these estimates represents an average
of some four hundred a week, or nearly sixty a day, such figures
are appalling! And now we learn, beyond the possibility of a doubt,
that the same practices obtained in America in times that must have
been ages before the Spanish conquest, and, judging by the frequency
of the representations of such things in these old bas-reliefs, as
extensively. In these sculptures we can see the very shape of the
knives used; the form of the plates or platters on which severed heads
of victims were placed, and other such details; and in a certain series
we are enabled to note the curious point, that, while the officiating
priests always wear full beards, the victims appear to have usually
possessed no hirsute adornments, or to have 'shaved clean,' as we term
it. It may be added that these ancient white people seem to have been a
totally different race from those the Spaniards found on the continent;
and that between the two there is believed to have been a gap lasting
for many ages, during which the country was overrun by Indian or other
barbaric hordes; though how or why this came about is one of those
mysteries that will probably never be unravelled.
* * * * *
In conclusion, I have to acknowledge my indebtedness to the writers
whose books of travel I have named for the information I have made use
of; as well as to express a hope that the writer of the review in the
_Spectator_ will regard with indulgence the liberties I have taken with
his admirable article. I am sanguine enough to believe, however, that I
shall have the sympathy and good wishes of all these in the endeavour
here made to arouse public attention to the real meaning and importance
of the 'Venezuelan Question'; and to add to the number of those who
feel an interest in the future status and ultimate exploration of
the mysterious Roraima. I wish also to express my thanks to Messrs.
Leigh Ellis and Fred Hyland, the artists to whom the illustrations
were entrusted, for the thought and care they have bestowed upon the
work, and the successful manner in which they have carried out my
conceptions.
For the rest--if objection be taken to the accounts of the mountain
and what is to be found on its summit given by the characters in my
story--I desire to claim the licence of the romance-writer to maintain
their accuracy--till the contrary be proved. If this shall serve to
stimulate to renewed efforts at exploration, so much the better, and
another of my objects in writing the book will thereby have been
attained.
FRANK AUBREY.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
"WILL NO ONE EXPLORE RORAIMA?" 1
CHAPTER II.
MONELLA 17
CHAPTER III.
THE JOURNEY FROM THE COAST 26
CHAPTER IV.
THE FIRST VIEW OF RORAIMA 36
CHAPTER V.
IN THE 'DEMONS' WOOD' 45
CHAPTER VI.
THE MYSTERIOUS CAVERN 58
CHAPTER VII.
THE CANYON WITHIN THE MOUNTAIN 70
CHAPTER VIII.
ALONE ON RORAIMA'S SUMMIT 79
CHAPTER IX.
VISION OR REALITY? 88
CHAPTER X.
IN SIGHT OF EL DORADO! 98
CHAPTER XI.
ULAMA, PRINCESS OF MANOA 106
CHAPTER XII.
A PRELIMINARY SKIRMISH 119
CHAPTER XIII.
A KING'S GREETING 129
CHAPTER XIV.
DAKLA 141
CHAPTER XV.
MARVELS OF MANOA 153
CHAPTER XVI.
LEONARD AND ULAMA 167
CHAPTER XVII.
THE FIGHT ON THE HILLSIDE 177
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE LEGEND OF MELLENDA 188
CHAPTER XIX.
HOPES AND FEARS 199
CHAPTER XX.
THE MESSAGE OF APALANO 210
CHAPTER XXI.
THE GREAT DEVIL-TREE 221
CHAPTER XXII.
SMILES AND TEARS 236
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE DEVIL-TREE BY MOONLIGHT 246
CHAPTER XXIV.
TRAPPED! 256
CHAPTER XXV.
'IN THE DEVIL-TREE'S LARDER' 268
CHAPTER XXVI.
CORYON 282
CHAPTER XXVII.
ON THE 'DEVIL-TREE'S LADLE' 290
CHAPTER XXVIII.
RALLYING TO THE CALL 301
CHAPTER XXIX.
'THOU ART MY LORD MELLENDA!' 308
CHAPTER XXX.
A TERRIBLE VENGEANCE 317
CHAPTER XXXI.
'THE SON OF APALANO!' 327
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE TREE'S LAST MEAL 339
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE LAST OF THE GREAT DEVIL-TREE 350
CHAPTER XXXIV.
A MARRIAGE AND A PARTING 360
CHAPTER XXXV.
JUST IN TIME! 369
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE END 382
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
"IT WAS PASSED ABOUT; NOW LIFTED HIGH IN THE AIR
BY ONE END, THEN BY THE OTHER" _Frontispiece_
"THERE BEFORE THEM ... THEY SAW THE MYSTERIOUS
RORAIMA" _To face page 39_
"A SCENE THAT WAS GRATEFULLY REFRESHING" " " 72
"THE SUN WAS JUST HIGH ENOUGH TO LIGHT UP THE
GLISTENING TOWERS AND CUPOLAS" " " 106
"SHE STOOD REGARDING THEM WITH WONDERING LOOKS" " " 115
"OTHER BRANCHES SWOOPED DOWN, COILING ROUND HIM" " " 252
"HE WAS STANDING WITH ONE ARM EXTENDED" " " 286
ON THE DEVIL-TREE'S LADLE " " 297
THE
DEVIL-TREE OF EL DORADO.
CHAPTER I.
"WILL NO ONE EXPLORE RORAIMA?"[3]
[3] The Indians of British Guiana pronounce this word Roreema.
Beneath the verandah of a handsome, comfortable-looking residence near
Georgetown, the principal town of British Guiana, a young man sat one
morning early in the year 1890, attentively studying a volume that
lay open on a small table before him. It was easy to see that he was
reading something that was, for him at least, of more than ordinary
interest, something that seemed to carry his thoughts far away from
the scene around him; for when, presently, he raised his eyes from the
book, they looked out straight before him with a gaze that evidently
saw nothing of that on which they rested.
He was a handsome young fellow of, perhaps, twenty-two years of age,
rather tall, and well-made, with light wavy hair, and blue-grey eyes
that had in them an introspective, somewhat dreamy expression, but
that nevertheless could light up on occasion with an animated glance.
The house stood on a terrace that commanded a view of the sea, and,
in the distance, white sails could be seen making their way across
the blue water in the light breeze and the dazzling sunlight. Nearer
at hand were waving palms, glowing flowers, humming insects and
gaudily-coloured butterflies--all the beauties of a tropical garden. On
one side of him was the open window of a sitting-room that, shaded, as
it was, by the verandah, looked dark and cool compared with the glare
of the scorching sun outside.
From this room came the sounds of a grand piano and of the sweet voice
of a girl singing a simple and pathetic ballad.
At the moment the song ceased a brisk step was heard coming up the path
through the garden, and a good-looking young fellow of tall figure and
manly air made his way to where the other still sat with his eyes fixed
on vacancy, as one who neither sees nor hears aught of what is going on
about him.
"Ha, Leonard!" the new-comer exclaimed, with a light laugh, "caught you
dreaming again, eh? In another of your reveries?"
The other roused himself with a start, and looked to see who was his
visitor.
"Good-morning, Jack," he then answered with a slight flush. "Well,
yes--I suppose I must have been dreaming a little, for I did not hear
you coming."
"Bet I guess what you were dreaming about," said the one addressed as
Jack. "Roraima, as usual, eh?"
Leonard looked a little conscious.
"Why, yes," he admitted, smiling. "But," he continued seriously, "I
have just been reading something that set me thinking. It is about
Roraima, and it is old; that is to say, it is in an old number of a
paper bound up in this book that a friend has lent me. I should like to
read it to you. Shall I?"
"All right; if I may smoke the while. I suppose I may?" And the
speaker, anticipating consent, pulled out a pipe, filled and lighted
it, and then, having seated himself on a chair, crossed one leg over
the other, and added, "Now, then, I am ready. Fire away, old man."
And Leonard Elwood read the following extract from the book he had been
studying:--
"Will no one explore Roraima, and bring us back the tidings which
it has been waiting these thousands of years to give us? One of the
greatest marvels and mysteries of the earth lies on the outskirt
of one of our colonies, and we leave the mystery unsolved, the
marvel uncared for. The description given of it (with a map and
an illustrated sketch) in Mr. Barrington Brown's 'Canoe and Camp
Life in British Guiana' (one of the most fascinating books of
travel the present writer has read for a long time) is a thing
to dream of by the hour. A great table of pink and white and red
sandstone, 'interbedded with red shale,' rises from a height of
five thousand one hundred feet above the level of the sea, two
thousand feet sheer into the sapphire tropical sky. A forest crowns
it; the highest waterfall in the world--only one, it would seem,
out of several--tumbles from its summit, two thousand feet at one
leap, three thousand more on a slope of forty-five degrees to the
bottom of the valley, broad enough to be seen thirty miles away.
Only two parties of civilised explorers have reached the base of
the table--Sir Robert Schomburgk many years ago, and Mr. Brown and
a companion in 1869[4]--each at different spots. Even the length
of the mass has not been determined--Mr. Brown says from eight to
twelve miles. And he cannot help speculating whether the remains
of a former creation may not be found at the top. At any rate,
there is the forest on its summit; of what trees is it composed?
They cannot well be the same as those at its base. At a distance
of fifteen hundred feet above sea-level the mango-tree of the
West Indies, which produces fruit in abundance below, ceases to
bear. The change in vegetation must be far more decided where the
difference is between five thousand and seven thousand feet. Thus
for millenniums this island of sandstone in the South American
continent must have had its own distinct flora. What may be its
fauna? Very few birds probably ascend to a height of two thousand
feet in the air, the vulture tribe excepted. Nearly the whole of
its animated inhabitants are likely to be as distinct as its plants.
[4] Since then Roraima has been visited by two or three other
travellers; but their accounts have added little to our
knowledge. They entirely confirm Mr. Brown's statements as to
its inaccessibility. (See Preface.)
"Is it peopled with human beings? Who can tell? Why not? The
climate must be temperate, delicious. There is abundance of water,
very probably issuing from some lake on the summit. Have we here a
group of unknown brothers cut off from all the rest of their kind?
"The summit, Mr. Brown says, is inaccessible except by means of
balloons. Well, that is a question to be settled on the spot,
between an engineer and a first-rate 'Alpine.' (What is the
satisfaction of standing on the ice-ridge of the Matterhorn, or
crossing the lava-wastes of the Vatna-Jökull, compared to what
would be the sensation of reaching that aerial forest and gazing
plumb down over the sea of tropical verdure beneath, within an
horizon the limits of which are absolutely beyond guessing?)
"But put it that a balloon is required, surely it would be worth
while for one of our learned societies to organise a balloon
expedition for the purpose. No one can tell what problems in
natural science might not be elucidated by the exploration. We have
here an area of limited extent within which the secular variation
of species, if any, must have gone on undisturbed, with only a
limited number of conceivable exceptions, since at least the very
beginning of the present age in the world's life. Can there be a
fairer field for the testing of those theories which are occupying
men's minds so much in our days? And if there be human beings on
Roraima, what new data must not their language, their condition,
contribute for the study of philologers, anthropologists,
sociologists?
"One more wonder remains to be told. The traveller speaks of
two other mountains in the same district which are of the same
description as Roraima--tables of sand-stone rising up straight
into the blue--one larger than (though not as high as) Roraima
itself. It is only because of their existence, and because, for
aught that appears, they may be equally inaccessible with Roraima,
that one does not venture to call Roraima _the_ greatest marvel and
mystery of the earth!"
"What is that taken from?" asked Jack Templemore when the reader had
put down the book.
"It is from the _Spectator_.[5] I say, Jack, what a chance for an
explorer! Fancy people spending their money and risking their lives in
exploring an icy, cold, miserable, desolate region, like the Arctic
Circle, when there is a wondrous land here in the blue skies--yet
no wilderness of ice and snow--waiting to be won; and no one seems
to trouble about it! I do wish you would do as I have so often
suggested--set out with me upon an expedition and let us see whether
we cannot solve the secret of this mysterious mountain. You have the
leisure now, and I have the money. Dr. Lorien and his son are now on
their way back from near there; if they can undertake the journey, so
could we. Besides, it is not as though we were novices at this kind of
travel; we have been on short trips to the interior times enough."
[5] This article appeared in the _Spectator_ of April 1877.
Jack Templemore looked dubious. He was, it is true, used to roughing
it in the wild parts of South America. He had been trained as an
engineer, and, for some years--he was now twenty-eight--had been
engaged in surveying or pioneering for new railways in various places
on the Continent. His father having lately died and left him and his
mother very poorly off, he was now somewhat anxiously looking about for
something that would give him permanent occupation, or the chance of
making a little money. He and Leonard Elwood were great friends; though
they were, in many respects, of very different characters. Elwood
was, essentially, of a romantic, poetic temperament; while Templemore
affected always a direct, practical, matter-of-fact way of looking at
things, as became an engineer. He was dark, tall and sturdily built,
with keen, steady grey eyes, and a straight-forward, good-humoured
manner. Both were used to hunting, shooting, and out-door sports, and,
as Elwood had just said, they had had many short hunting trips into the
interior together. But these had been in previous years, since which,
both had been away from Georgetown. Templemore, as above stated, had
been engaged in railway enterprises, Elwood had gone to Europe, where,
after some time spent in England, during which his father and mother
had both died, he had travelled for a while 'to see the world,' and
finally had come out again to Georgetown to look after some property
his father had left him. On arrival he had gone at first to an hotel,
but some old friends of his parents, who lived on an estate known as
'Meldona,' had insisted upon his staying with them for a while. Here he
found that his old friend Jack Templemore was a frequent visitor, and
it was an open secret that Maud Kingsford, elder of the two daughters
of Leonard's host, was the real attraction that brought him there so
constantly.
Now Jack Templemore, as has been said, was more practical-minded than
Leonard. He had not shrunk from the hardships and privations of wild
forest life when engaged upon railway-engineering work, when there
had been something definite in view--money to be made, instruction
to be gained, or promotion to be hoped for. But he did not view with
enthusiasm the idea of leaving comfortable surroundings for the
discomforts of rough travel, merely for travel's sake, or upon what
he deemed a sort of wild-goose chase. He had carefully read up all
the information that was obtainable concerning the mountain Roraima,
and had seen no reason to doubt the conclusions that had been come
to by those who ought to know--that it was inaccessible. Of what use
then to spend time, trouble, money--perhaps health and strength--upon
attempting the impossible?
So Jack Templemore argued, and, be it said, there was the other reason.
Why should he go away and separate himself for an indefinite period
from his only surviving parent and the girl he loved best in the world,
with no better object than a vague idea of scrambling up a mountain
that had been pronounced by practical men unclimbable?
Thus, when Leonard appealed to him on this particular morning, merely
because he had come across something that had fired his enthusiasm
afresh, Jack did not respond to the proposal with the cordiality that
the other evidently wished for.
"I don't mind going a short trip with you, old man," Jack said
presently, "for a little hunting, if you feel restless and are
a-hungering after a spell of wandering--a few days, or a week or two,
if you like--but a long expedition with nothing to go upon, as it were,
seems to me only next door to midsummer madness."
Leonard turned away with an air of disappointment, and just then Maud
Kingsford, who had been playing and singing inside the room, stepped
out.
Leonard discreetly went into the house and left the two alone, and
Maud greeted Jack with a rosy tell-tale flush that made her pretty
face look still more charming. In appearance she was neither fair nor
dark, her hair and eyebrows being brown and her eyes hazel. She was an
unaffected, good-hearted girl, more thoughtful and serious, perhaps,
than girls of her age usually are--she was twenty, while Stella, the
younger sister, was between eighteen and nineteen--and had shown her
capacity for managing a home by her success in that line in their own
home since her mother's death a few years before. The practical-minded
Jack, who had duly noted this, saw in it additional cause for
admiration; but, indeed, it was only a natural outcome of her innate
good sense. She now asked what her lover and Leonard had been talking
of.
"The usual thing," was Jack's reply. "He's mad to go upon an exploring
expedition; thinks we could succeed where others have failed. It's
so unlikely, you know. Now, if he would only look at the thing
practically----"
Maud burst into a merry laugh.
"You do amuse me--you two," she exclaimed; at which Jack looked a
little disconcerted. "_You_ always insisting so upon being strictly
non-speculative, and Leonard, with his romantic phantasies, and his
dreams and visions, and vague aspirations after castles in the air. You
are always hammering away at him, trying to instil practical ideas into
him with the same praiseworthy perseverance, though you know that in
all these years you have never made the least little bit of impression
upon him. Your ideas and his are like oil and water, you know. They
will never mix, shake them together as you will."
"But--don't you think I am right? Isn't it common sense?"
"Quite right, of course; and you _are_ persevering; I'll say that for
you."
"For the matter of that, so's Leonard," said Jack with a good-natured
laugh. "He's as persevering with this fad of his as any man I ever
met in my life. I do believe he's got a fixed idea that he has only
to start upon this enterprise, and he will come back a made man with
untold and undreamt-of wealth and----"
"And a princess for a bride--the fair maid of his dreams," Maud put in,
still laughing. "We have not heard so much of her, by the bye, lately.
He has been rather shy of those things since his return from Europe,
and does not like to be spoken to about them. We began to think he had
grown out of his youthful fancies."
The fact was, that, from his childhood, Leonard had been accustomed
to strange dreams and fancies. These five--Leonard, Templemore, and
Mr. Kingsford's son and two daughters--had been children together, and
in those days Leonard had talked freely to his childish companions of
all his imaginative ideas; and as they grew older, he had not varied
much in this respect. Moreover, Leonard had had an Indian nurse, named
Carenna, who had encouraged him in his fantastic dreamings, and who
had, by her Indian folk-lore tales, early excited his imagination.
Her son Matava, too, had been Leonard's constant companion almost so
long as he could remember, first in all sorts of boyish games and
amusements, and later in his hunting expeditions; and both Matava and
Carenna had been always more devoted to Leonard than even to his father
and mother.
But when Mr. and Mrs. Elwood left the estate they had been cultivating,
to go to England, the two Indians had gone away into the interior
to live at an Indian settlement with their own tribe. About twice a
year, however--or even oftener, if there were occasion--Matava still
came down to the coast upon some little trading expedition with
other Indians; and at such times he never failed to come to see the
Kingsfords and inquire after Leonard.
The Dr. Lorien, of whom mention had been made by Leonard, was a retired
medical practitioner who had turned botanist and orchid-collector.
He had been a ship's doctor, and in that capacity had voyaged pretty
well all over the world. Since he had given that up he had travelled
further still by land--in the tropical regions in the heart of Africa,
in Siam, the Malay Peninsular and, latterly, in South America--in
search of orchids and other rare floral and botanical specimens. The
vicinity of Roraima being one of the most remarkable in the world for
such things--though so difficult of access as to be but seldom visited
by white men--it is not surprising that he had lately planned a journey
thither.
From this journey the doctor and his son were now daily expected back.
One of the Indians of their party had, indeed, already arrived, having
been despatched in advance, a few days before, to announce their safe
return.
Thus it came about that Templemore and Maud, while still talking, were
not greatly surprised at the sudden appearance of Matava, who stated
that he had come down with the doctor's party, who would follow very
quickly on his heels.
Maud, who knew the Indian and his mother well, received him
kindly; and, to his great delight, was able to inform him that his
'young master'--as he always called Leonard Elwood--had returned to
Georgetown, and was at present with them.
Matava had, indeed, expected this, for he had heard of Leonard's
intention at his last visit to the coast some six months before. He
was greatly pleased to find he was not to be disappointed in his
expectation. Moreover, the Indian declared, he had news for him--"news
of the greatest importance"--and begged to be allowed to see him at
once. So Maud sent him into the house--where he knew his way about
perfectly--to find Leonard; and then, turning to Templemore, she said,
laughing,
"I wonder what his 'important' intelligence can be? Some deeper secret
than usual that his old nurse has to tell him, I suppose."
"I hope it's nothing likely to rouse a further desire to set off on
this mad-cap expedition he has so long had in his mind," Templemore
returned; "for," looking at her with a sigh, "if he _should_ make up
his mind to start, I am, in effect, pledged to go too, whether I wish
or not."
"Why should you expect it? and how are you obliged to go?" Maud
inquired with evident uneasiness.
"I know that Leonard saw Dr. Lorien in London before he came out last,
and had a long talk with him. When he learned of the expedition upon
which the doctor was then setting out, he was much annoyed at being
unable to join him. He said, however, that he should be in Georgetown
himself in a few months, and hoped to see the doctor on his return; and
he particularly asked him to try to collect for him all the information
and particulars he could concerning the best route by which to make
the journey to Roraima. Dr. Lorien told me all this before he left
us, adding that he felt certain Leonard's object in coming again
to Georgetown was quite as much to arrange for an expedition as his
ostensible one of looking after his property. And _I_ know, too, from
what I have seen since Leonard has been back, that his thoughts are
full of the idea. You say he does not now talk much of it to you or to
others?"
"No; and as I told you just now, we had begun rather to think he had
given up his former romantic yearnings for adventure; and, when you
have referred to them before him, I have thought that you were only
teasing him a little about old times."
"Oh dear no; by no means. Whatever he may say, or leave unsaid to you
and his general acquaintances, he is, in his heart, just as much set
upon it as ever."
"It is odd, that," Maud observed thoughtfully, "because he used to
be so fond of telling us about his dreams and visions and all the
castles in the air and half-mystical imaginings he used to build upon
them. But," she went on slowly, "I have noticed that, since his long
absence from us, Leonard Elwood is very different from what he was as
I remember him. He seems, at times, so reserved and distant, I almost
feel inclined to call him 'Mr. Elwood' instead of 'Leonard.' And he is,
in a manner, unsociable, too. He is so preoccupied always, so silent,
and so wrapped up in himself, that you generally have to wait, if you
speak to him, while he collects his thoughts--brings them back from the
distant skies or wherever they have gone a-wandering--before he replies
to you. Not that he is intentionally cool or distant, I think; and I
am sure he is just as good-hearted as ever. Yet there _is_ a change of
some sort. Stella says the same. And, do you know, he sometimes gives
me a sort of feeling as though he were not English at all, but of some
other race, and that he feels half out-of-place amongst us, a fish out
of water, as it were? I wonder whether he is in love!" And Maud gave a
ringing little laugh.
Templemore shook his head.
"If he were, it would be with some young lady on the other side of the
Atlantic," he returned. "And he would not be desirous of prolonging
his stay on this side. No; _I_ know what is the matter with him. He
talks freely enough to me. And, now that he is expecting Dr. Lorien
back, he is gradually working himself up into a state of excitement
and expectation. He has quite made up his mind for some news or
information--Heaven only knows why--and that is what makes him by turns
restless and preoccupied. If, therefore, what Matava has to tell has
anything to do with what I know to be so much in his thoughts, it may
be the means of deciding him to go; and then I should have to go too."
"But why? I don't see what it has to do with you, Jack."
"It has this to do with me, dear Maud," said Templemore, taking her
hand; "Leonard, some time ago, made me a very handsome--to me a very
tempting--offer if I would make up my mind to start with him on this
vague expedition. He offered me £300 clear, he paying all expenses,
and giving me, besides, half of whatever came out of it. Unfortunately
for myself, I am not now in a position to say 'no' to such an offer. I
have been, now, nearly a year waiting for something to 'turn up.' My
mother has barely enough to live on, and depends upon me for ordinary
comforts, to say nothing of little luxuries; and what I had saved up
from former engagements is steadily getting less and less, and will
shortly disappear. I do wish with all my heart I could get anything
else, almost, rather than this wild-goose affair of Leonard's. Yet
nothing has offered itself; so what am I to do? For your sake, for the
hope of being able one day to provide a home for you----"
"Nay, Jack," Maud interposed, with a deep flush, "do not say for _my_
sake. I would not have you set out on an enterprise of danger and
difficulty for my sake. But I see clearly enough you must do it, if it
be again offered, for your mother's sake. Yes, for hers, you must." The
girl hesitated, and it was easy to see she found it hard to say the
words, but she went on bravely, "So, I repeat, if it be again offered,
you must accept it, Jack. And be sure I will look after your mother,
and comfort her while you are away."
"That is spoken like my own dear girl," Templemore answered with
emotion. "Yes, I cannot well refuse; and I know I may look to you to
console my mother. You will comfort each other."
Just then they heard Leonard's voice calling out in excited tones for
Templemore. A moment or two later he came rushing out of the house.
"Jack, Jack!" he cried. "Such a strange thing! Here is our opportunity!
Matava has brought some extraordinary news!"
Leonard was so incoherent in his excitement, that it was some time
before his hearers grasped his meaning.
His news amounted, in effect, to this. A white man had been staying
for some time near the Indian village at which Carenna and her son
Matava lived; and he had had many talks with both about a project for
ascending the mountain of Roraima. It being an arduous undertaking, he
sought the co-operation of one or two other white men; and Leonard's
old nurse had urged him to communicate with her young master, who
would shortly be in Georgetown, assuring him that he would be the very
one--from the interest and enthusiasm he would feel--to join him and
help him to achieve success if success were possible. Matava, who knew
of Dr. Lorien's presence in the district, had suggested to the stranger
to go to see him, and a meeting had thus been brought about. The doctor
would tell him the result; but the main thing was that the stranger had
sent an invitation to Leonard to join him and to bring, if he pleased,
one other white man, but no more. The doctor was now at the Settlement,
near the mouth of the Essequibo, transferring to the steamer, from
the Indian canoes in which they had been brought down the river, his
botanical treasures and other trophies of his journey. If Leonard
wished to go back with the canoes and the Indians who were with them,
he would have to let them know at once, and they would wait. Otherwise
they would be on their way back in a day or two; which would involve
the organising of a fresh expedition--a matter of great trouble--should
Leonard make up his mind to proceed later.
The enthusiastic Leonard needed no time to make up his mind.
"I shall go," said he. "If you will come too, Jack, I shall be only too
glad. But, if not, I may be able to find some one else; or I shall go
alone. So I shall send word at once to keep the boats and the Indians."
"But," objected Maud Kingsford, "consider! You know nothing of this
stranger; he may be a blackleg, an escaped murderer or desperado, or
all sorts of things."
"No, no! Carenna knows. She has sent word that I can trust this man,
and she knows. She is too fond of me to let me get mixed up with any
doubtful character. Dr. Lorien, too, and Harry have seen him, and
talked with him, and think well of him; so Matava says. I shall know
more when I see them in a day or two. Meantime, I shall keep the canoes
and Indians, and risk it."
Then he rushed off to have a further talk with Matava, and, as he said,
see about getting the Indian "some grub."
Jack and Maud, left alone, looked at each other in dismay. It had been
one thing to talk vaguely of what they would do in case Leonard should
take what at the time seemed a very unlikely step. It was quite another
to be thus suddenly brought face to face with it.
Maud turned very pale and seemed about to faint. She felt keenly how
hard it would be to see her lover depart upon an adventure of this
uncertain character, the end or duration of which no one could even
guess at. But she recovered her self-possession with an effort and,
looking steadily at Templemore, said,
"What you said you would do for our sakes is to be very quickly put to
the test, it seems. You--will--go, Jack?"
"Yes," he answered firmly; "since it is your wish."
"You must," she answered. "It is hard to lose you; it will be hard for
us both. But go--and go with a good heart. Be sure I will be a daughter
to your mother while you are away."
He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips.
"For your sake, dear Maud, I shall go," he said. "For your sake and for
my mother's; in the hope that some success may result; but not--Heaven
knows--for the mere sordid hope of gain."
CHAPTER II.
MONELLA.
Two days later Dr. Lorien and his son arrived in Georgetown and,
after taking rooms at the Kaieteur Hotel, went at once to call upon
the Kingsfords. This haste was, in reality, prompted by Harry, whose
thoughts were bent upon his hopes of once more seeing the pretty
Stella; but the ostensible reason that he urged upon his father was
somewhat different, and had to do with the message of which they were
the bearers from the white stranger they had met in their travels.
At the evening dinner the matter was discussed, Mr. Kingsford and his
son Robert and the others being present.
The two travellers had much to tell of their adventures, which had
been full of both interest and danger, apart from the matter of the
stranger's message.
"And yet, I think," observed the doctor, thoughtfully, "our meeting
with this stranger, and his behaviour, impressed me more than almost
all else that happened to us."
"How so? What is he like?" asked Mr. Kingsford.
"In figure he is very tall; of a most commanding stature and
appearance. _I_ am not short."
"Why, you are over six feet!" put in Harry.
"And yet I almost think, if he had held his arm straight out, I could
have walked under it with my hat on, and without stooping."
"I'm sure you could, dad," Harry corroborated.
"As to age--there I confess myself at sea. As a doctor I am accustomed
to judge of age; yet he thoroughly puzzled me. If I could believe in
the possibility of a man's being a hundred and fifty years old and yet
remaining strong and hale and vigorous, I should not be surprised if
he had claimed that age. On the other hand, if one could believe in a
young, stalwart, muscular man of thirty with the face and white hair
of an old-looking, but not _very_ old man, then I could have believed
it if I had been told he was no more than thirty. In fact, he was a
complete puzzle to me; a mystery. But the most remarkable thing about
him was the expression of his eyes; they were the most extraordinary I
have ever seen in my life."
"Wild--mad-looking?" Templemore asked.
"Oh no, by no means; quite the reverse. Very steady and piercing; but
wonderfully fascinating. Mild and kind-looking to a fault; and yet
changing to a look of quiet, almost stern resolution that had in it
nothing hard, or cruel, or disagreeable. In fact, I hardly know how to
describe that look, or convey an idea of it, except by saying that it
was something between the gaze of a lion and that of a Newfoundland
dog. It had all the majesty, the magnanimity, the conscious power of
the one, with the benevolence and wistful kindness and affection of the
other. Never have I seen such an expression. I really did not know the
human countenance could express the mingled characteristics one seemed
to read so plainly in his--all kindly, all noble, all suggestive of
sincerity and integrity."
"You _are_ enthusiastic!" said Robert, laughing.
The old doctor coloured up a little; then took out his handkerchief and
wiped his face.
"I know it sounds strange to hear an old man of the world like me
speak so forcibly about a man's appearance," he returned; "but, if it
is true, I do not see why I should not say it. Ask Harry here."
"I couldn't take my eyes off his face," Harry declared. "He fairly
fascinated me. I felt I should have to do anything he told me; even to
taking my pistol and killing the first person I met. I do believe I
should have done it--or any other out-of-the way thing. And he made you
feel, too, as though you liked him so, that you longed to do any mortal
thing you could to please him."
"What's his name?" asked Templemore.
"Monella."
"Monella? Is that all? No other name?"
"None that I heard. And as to his nationality, I cannot even so much
as guess. I have been in Central Africa, in Siam, in India, in China,
in Russia, and have picked up a smattering of the languages of those
countries; but this man jabbered away in all; additionally, he spoke
French, German, Spanish and Portuguese, besides English. So much I
know. How many more he speaks I can't say."
"Injun," said Harry.
"Oh yes, I forgot that. We had some of three different tribes with us,
and he spoke to each in his own tongue."
"And what is his object in going in for this Roraima exploration?"
asked Mr. Kingsford.
"He has a curious theory. He declares that the ancient island-city of
El Dorado--or Manoa--was not at the lower end or part of the Pacaraima
mountains, as some have surmised, but at the further and highest point
of the range, which is Roraima itself. He holds that the great lake
or inland sea of Parima once washed around the bases of all those
mountains, making islands of what are now their summits; and that the
highest and most inaccessible of all, Roraima, was selected by the
Manoans for their fastness, and for the site of their wonderful 'Golden
City.'"
"But that theory won't help him to get up there, will it?" Jack asked.
"Ah, but there is something else. He states that he was brought up by
some people, the last members of what had once been a nation, but has
now died out. They lived in a secluded valley high up on the slopes of
the Andes. He has travelled all over the world, and went back to these
friends of his, only to find that they were all dead, save one, and
that he was fast dying. This survivor gave him an ancient parchment
with plans and diagrams, by means of which, it was declared, the top of
the mountain can be reached, where will be found whatever traces may
be left of the famous city of Manoa or El Dorado. This man, Monella,
has other old parchments which he can read, but I could not--he showed
me some--and from these he declared his belief that there is almost
unlimited wealth to be gained by those who find the site of this
wonderful city."
All this time Leonard had been listening with sparkling eyes and
flushed cheeks, though in silence. Here he glanced with a satisfied
smile at Templemore, and said,
"There's method in all that; at all events he is not undertaking the
thing in a haphazard way and without something to go upon, that's
certain."
Jack did not look hopeful.
"It is probably just as wild and hopeless an adventure all the same,"
was his reply. "What 'directions' or 'plans' or 'diagrams' can help
a man to-day after the lapse of hundreds and hundreds of years--even
if they were reliable, and the old party who handed them over was not
mad--as he probably was?"
"As to Monella," observed the doctor, "I could see no sign of madness
in him. He is one of the most intelligent, best-informed men I ever
met. I cannot say anything, of course, of his informant."
"Has he any money, do you suppose--this man?" Robert asked.
"I don't know. But he pays the Indians well, and has got together a
lot of stores, it seems; which must have been a costly thing to do.
They have been brought over the mountains from Brazil. And he specially
said you need not trouble to load yourself up with much in the way
of stores--only sufficient to get to him. After that you will be all
right. And he said nothing about money being wanted. But," and here
the doctor hesitated, "he is very particular as to the character and
disposition of those he purposes to work with. In fact, he subjected
me to a long sort of cross-examination respecting our friend Leonard
here. He had already gained a lot of information about him from the
old Indian nurse, it seemed, and I was surprised at the details he
had picked up and remembered. In fact, Master Leonard," continued the
doctor, addressing the young man, "he seemed to know you almost as well
as if he had lived with you for years. And your friend Mr. Templemore,
too, he seemed to know about him, and to expect that he would join you."
"How could that be?" Jack demanded.
"Oh, from the old nurse and Matava, I suppose."
"To tell you the honest truth," Harry interposed, "I believe there's
some hocus-pocus business about those two. She is reputed to be a
witch, you know; not a bad witch, but a good sort. And I quite believe
Monella to be a wizard; also of a good sort. And when those two laid
their heads together, they could know a lot between them, I suspect. I
should not at all wonder if he were not magician enough to lead you to
the 'golden castle,' or 'city,' or whatever it is, and find its hidden
stores of gold. I wish I had a chance to join him. But dad's wanting me
somewhere else. So I am out of it."
"Yes," observed his father. "We have to go on to Rio, where I have some
law business on. But we shall not be away a great while, and then we
are going back to that district."
"Going back?" said Templemore in surprise.
"Yes, there is a lot to be done there. It is a wonderful place for my
sort of work, and we really saw but very little of it after all. So we
are going again when we return from Rio; but I cannot at all tell when
that may be."
The doctor was a fine-looking specimen of a hardy, bronzed traveller.
He was, as has been said, over six feet in height; his hair and beard
were iron-grey, his complexion was a little florid beneath its tan,
and his expression good-humoured and often jovial. His son, Harry, was
somewhat slight in build, but wiry, and had been used to knocking about
with his father. He was a young fellow with boundless animal spirits
and plenty of pluck and courage. His ready kindness to every one made
him a general favourite; and the lively, captivating Stella and he were
special friends.
Mr. Kingsford asked the doctor whether any time had been estimated for
the length of the expedition.
"That would be difficult," Dr. Lorien answered. "Apart from the long
and tedious journey there, there is the girdle of forest that surrounds
Roraima to be cut through. That may take months, I am told."
"Months!" The exclamation came from Maud who, with Stella, had been a
silent but appreciative listener.
"Yes. It is a curious thing, but this forest belt is never approached
even by any of the Indian tribes. They look upon it with superstitious
awe and will not even go near it. Indeed, they all regard Roraima with
a sort of horror. They declare there is a lake on the top guarded by
demons and large white eagles, and that it will never be gazed on
by mortal eyes; that in the forest that surrounds it are monstrous
serpents--'camoodis' they call them--larger far than any to be found
elsewhere in the land; besides these, there are 'didis', gigantic
man-apes, bigger and more ferocious and formidable than the African
gorilla. Altogether, this wood has a very bad reputation, and no
Indian will venture near it. Indeed, the mountain of Roraima and all
its surroundings are looked upon as weird and uncanny. As a former
traveller has expressed it, 'its very name has come to be surrounded by
a halo of dread and indefinable fear.'"
"How, then, is the necessary road to be made through this promising bit
of woodland?" asked Templemore.
"_There_ has been Monella's difficulty," returned the doctor. "But
for that, doubtless, he would not have troubled about any one else's
joining him. But, though he is very popular amongst the Indians, they
cannot get over their fear of the 'demons'' wood, as they call it.
They are, in fact, quite devoted to him, for he has done much that has
made him both loved and feared--as one must always be to gain the real
devotion of these people. He has effected many wonderful cures amongst
them, I was told; but, more than that, he has saved the lives of two
or three by acts of great personal courage. So that, at last, he even
prevailed upon them to enter the 'haunted wood' with him. But they are
making very little progress, it appears; he cannot keep them together,
and they give way to panic at the slightest thing and make a bolt of
it; then he has to go hunting over the country for them, and it takes
days to get them together again--and so on. He is in hopes that the
presence and example of other white men will inspire them with greater
confidence and courage."
"A promising and inviting outlook, I must say," said Jack, eyeing
Leonard gravely.
"Never mind," Leonard exclaimed with enthusiasm. "If he can face it, so
can we; and if it is good enough for him to brave such difficulties,
it is good enough for us. It only shows what sterling stuff he must be
made of!"
At this Jack gave a sort of grunt that was clearly far from implying
assent to Leonard's view of the matter.
There was further talk, but it added little to the information given
above; and, inasmuch as Leonard had already made up his mind, almost
in advance, and had to ask no one's permission but his own, he
determined at once to set about the necessary preparations; and Jack
Templemore--though with evident reluctance--agreed to accompany him.
"I have a list of all the things I took with me," remarked Dr. Lorien,
"and notes of a few that I afterwards found would have been useful
and that I consequently regretted I had not taken; and also some
specially suggested by the stranger Monella. You had better copy them
all out carefully, for you will find it will save you a lot of time and
trouble."
Thus it came about that in less than a week their preparations were all
made, and the two, with Matava as guide, were ready to set out. Matava
had with him fourteen or fifteen Indians, who had formed the doctor's
party, and these, and the canoes with the stores on board, were soon
after waiting at the Settlement, ready to make a start.
Then, one sunny day at the beginning of the dry season, the Kingsfords,
with Mrs. Templemore, and the doctor and his son, all took the steamer
to the "Penal Settlement" (a place a few miles inside the mouth of
the Essequibo river, the starting place of all such parties), to see
the young men off and wish them God speed. When it came to this point
the struggle was a hard one for Maud and for Templemore's mother; but
they bore themselves bravely--outwardly at least. The three canoes put
off amidst much fluttering of handkerchiefs, and soon all that could
be seen of the adventurers were three small specks, gradually growing
less and less, as the boats made their way up the bosom of the great
Essequibo river--here some eight miles in width. Their intended journey
had been kept more or less a secret; such had been the wish of him they
were going to join. Hence no outside friends had accompanied the party
to see them off. Those who knew of their going away thought they were
only bent upon a hunting trip of a little longer duration than usual.
For two loving hearts left behind the separation was a trying one.
For a few days Mrs. Templemore stayed on at 'Meldona' with Maud, and
the presence of Dr. Lorien and the vivacious Harry helped to cheer
them somewhat; but, when the doctor and his son started for Rio, the
others returned sadly to the routine of their everyday life, with many
anxious speculations and forebodings concerning the fortunes of the two
explorers.
CHAPTER III.
THE JOURNEY FROM THE COAST.
The greater part of the interior of British Guiana consists of dense
forests which are mostly unexplored. No roads traverse them, and but
little would be known of the savannas, or open grassy plains, and the
mountains that lie beyond--and they would indeed be inaccessible--were
it not for the many wide rivers by which the forests are intersected.
These form the only means of communication between the coast and the
interior at the present day; and so vast is the extent of territory
covered with forest growth that it is probable many years will elapse
before any road communication is opened up between the sea and the open
country lying beyond the woods.
Of these vast forests little--or rather practically nothing--is known
save what can be seen of them from the rivers by those voyaging to and
fro in canoes. There are a limited number of spots at which the Indians
of the savannas come to the banks of the rivers to launch their canoes
when journeying to the coast; and to reach these places they have
what are known as 'Indian paths' through the intervening woods. These
so-called paths are, for the most part, of such a character, however,
that only Indians accustomed to them can find their way by them. Any
white man who should venture to trust himself alone in them would
inevitably get quickly and hopelessly lost. Hence--save for a few
miles near the line of coast--there are, as yet, absolutely no roads in
the country.
Naturally, under such conditions, the forest scenery is of the wildest
imaginable character, and its flora and fauna flourish unchecked in the
utmost luxuriance of tropical savage life; for the country lies but a
few degrees from the equator, and is far more sparsely populated than
even the surrounding tropical regions of Brazil and Venezuela.
Fortunately, however, for those who for any reason have occasion to
traverse this wild region, there is no lack of water-ways. Several
grand rivers of great breadth lead from the coast in different
directions, most of them being navigable (for canoes and small boats)
for great distances, leaving only comparatively short stretches of
forest land to be crossed by travellers desiring to reach the open
plains and hills.
Of these rivers, the Essequibo is one of the finest, and it was by
this route that the two friends, Elwood and Templemore, set out, under
Matava's guidance, to reach their destination. From this river they
branched off into one of its affluents, the Potaro, noted for its
wonderful waterfall, the Kaieteur, which they visited _en route_. Here
their canoes were left and exchanged for lighter ones, hired from the
Ackawoi Indians, who live at a little distance above the fall; their
stores and camp equipage being carried round. So far the journey had
been uneventful, save for a little excitement in passing the various
cataracts and rapids; but the two young men knew their way fairly well
thus far, having visited the Kaieteur with Matava some years before.
When, however, the journey was resumed above the Kaieteur, the route
was new to them; and, among the first things they noticed, were the
alligators with which the river abounded. In the Essequibo they had
seen none, and not many below the fall; but from this point, as far as
they ascended the river, they saw them continually. Once they had a
narrow escape. They were making arrangements for camping on the bank,
and were nearing the shore in the last of the canoes, when a tremendous
blow and a great splash overturned the boat, and they found themselves
struggling in the stream. An alligator had struck the canoe a blow with
its tail and upset it. Fortunately, however, it was in shallow water;
and the Indians, seeing how matters were, made a great splashing, and
thus frightened away the reptile. The contents of the canoe were partly
recovered, not without difficulty; but some were damaged by the water.
As they proceeded up the river, the rapids and cataracts became more
frequent, and the negotiation of them more difficult, till they reached
a spot where further navigation was impossible, and they had to take to
the forest, their stores and baggage being henceforward carried by the
Indians.
This marked the commencement of the really arduous part of the journey.
So long as the stores were carried in the boats, the Indians had been
cheerful and docile, and easy to manage. But now their work was harder,
and food was scarcer--for game is difficult to shoot in the forest.
Then, after two or three days, the gloom of the woods began to have an
evident effect upon their spirits; they first became depressed, and
then began to grumble. This would not have been of so much consequence,
perhaps, but that Matava became apprehensive that they might desert.
They were not people of his tribe, it seemed; they had come with Dr.
Lorien from a different district; and when they began to understand
that the eventual destination was Roraima, they became still more
depressed.
All the Indian tribes who have heard of Roraima, in any way, have the
same superstitious dread of it; and those now with the two young men
were evidently not exceptional in this respect. Templemore and Elwood
began to feel anxious and, to make matters worse, food ran short
for the Indians. The latter live chiefly on the native food, a kind
of bread called cassava, and, of this, a good deal of what they had
brought with them had been lost or spoiled by the upsetting of the
canoe.
In consequence, Matava advised that they should interrupt their direct
journey to turn aside to an Indian settlement that he knew of, about
a day's journey off the route they were pursuing; there they would
be able to replenish their stores, he thought; and to this course a
reluctant assent was given by the two friends.
It turned out to be more than a day's journey, however; but they
reached the place on the second day. It was called Karalang; there were
not more than a dozen huts, and the people at first said that they
had no food to spare; but eventually promised to procure some if the
travellers would wait a few days; and this they were perforce compelled
to do.
This village was situated on a hill in a piece of open country in the
midst of the great forest; and, during their enforced rest, the two
friends were enabled to engage in a little hunting, and to see more of
the wild life of the woods than they had seen before.
The first thing they did on arrival was to procure a couple of fowls
for cooking, of which there were plenty in the village. But these were
of no use as food for the Indians, who never eat them. Throughout the
country this is everywhere the case; the Indians keep fowls, yet never
eat them; and it is said that, were it not for the vampire bats and
tiger-cats, these would increase beyond all reason. Though, however,
they object to fowls as a diet, they have no dislike to fish, and they
were not long in discovering that there were some in a stream that ran
near the village; and a supply was caught by their method of poisoning
the fish in such a way that they float on top of the water as if dead,
but are nevertheless palatable and wholesome as food. The poison is
prepared from a root.
Amongst the miscellaneous stores the two had brought they had a liberal
supply of firearms--five Winchester rifles, half-a-dozen revolvers
and two guns, each with double barrels, one for shot and the other
for ball. The extra weapons were in case of loss or accident, and
Templemore had a good stock of tobacco, for he never felt happy for
long together without his pipe.
On their way up they had had very little shooting. Jack had indeed
killed an alligator, by way of relieving his feelings after the
upsetting of the canoe; but there had been very little time to spare
for sport. Every morning they had started as soon as the morning meal
had been eaten, and had gone into camp at night only in time to cook a
meal before it became dark. For in this part of the world night closes
in at about half-past six on the shortest days of the year, and a
little before seven on the longest. Practically, therefore, the varying
seasons bring little difference in the length of the days. One cannot
there get up at three or four o'clock and "have a good long day," with
an evening keeping light till eight and nine o'clock, as in summer-time
in Europe. Hence the days seem short for travel and sport, and the
nights very long.
"I think we've stuck to it pretty well," Jack observed in the evening,
as he sat smoking by the camp fire, outside their tent--for though the
day had been hot the evening was chilly--"and we deserve a rest. So it
is just as well. We will have two or three days' shooting, and a look
round, before we go on to tackle 'the old man.'"
'The old man' was the one they were on their way to see--the one Dr.
Lorien had met and described so enthusiastically. Jack was a little
sceptical as to whether the good-natured doctor had not sacrificed
strict accuracy to his friendly feeling for the stranger. Leonard, too,
felt full of curiosity upon the same point.
"I can scarcely believe, you know," Jack continued, "that our friend
will turn out all that the doctor pictured him."
"I shall be glad if he does, at any rate," Leonard made reply. "He
would be almost worth coming to see for himself alone."
Jack laughed.
"That's rather stretching a point, I think. However, I am keeping an
open mind on the subject. The gentleman shall have 'a fair field and
no favour,' so far as my judgment of him goes. I won't let myself be
prejudiced in advance, either one way or the other."
During the following days they enriched their stores by the skin
of a fine jaguar, shot by Templemore, a great boa-constrictor--or
'camoodi'--twenty-four feet long, shot by Leonard, and many trophies of
lesser account. Then, a fresh lot of cassava having been procured for
the Indians, the journey was resumed.
In about three weeks from the time of their start, the party emerged
from the forest into a more open country, where rolling savannas
alternated with patches of woodland. Here the air was fresher and more
bracing, so that the depressing effect of the gloomy forest was soon
thrown off. They could shoot a little game, too, as they went along;
there were splendid views to be had from the tops of the ridges and low
hills they crossed. The ground steadily rose and became first hilly and
then mountainous, till, having crossed a broad, undulating plateau,
they once more entered a forest region, but this time of different
character. The trees were farther apart; there were hills, and rocky
ravines, and mountain torrents, steep mountains, and deep valleys. The
way became toilsome and difficult; game was scarce, or at least not
easy to obtain, owing to the nature of the ground; the cassava ran
short, and, once more, grumbling arose and trouble threatened.
At last, one evening, Matava, with perplexity in his face, led the two
young men aside to hold a consultation.
"These people," he said in his own language, "say they will not go any
farther!"
"How far do you reckon we are now from your own village?" asked Jack.
"About four days. If we could but persuade them to keep on for two days
more, we could fix a camp, and I could go on alone and bring back some
of my own people to take all the things on."
"Ah! a good idea, Matava. Well, let us see what persuasion will effect.
Any way, we had better get them to go as far as we can, and then encamp
at the first likely camping-ground."
In the end the Indians were prevailed upon, by promise of extra pay, to
go the additional two days' journey. Beyond that they would not budge.
"They think that mountain over there in the distance is Roraima,"
Matava explained; "and I cannot get them to believe it isn't. And they
are frightened, and won't go any nearer to it."
There was, therefore, nothing to be done but to adopt Matava's
suggestion. It was agreed that the two friends would stay in camp and
keep guard over their belongings, while he started next day for his
village, to bring help.
The spot was a convenient one in which to camp for a few days, with a
stream of water near. That evening, therefore, the Indians were paid,
this being done in silver, which they knew how to make use of. The next
morning, when Elwood and Templemore got out of their hammocks, they
found they were alone with Matava. All the others had disappeared.
"Ungrateful beggars!" said Jack. "They might, at least, have gone in a
respectable manner, and not like thieves slinking away. Let's hope they
are not thieves."
But they were not. An examination showed that nothing had been stolen.
"The poor fellows were only frightened," Leonard observed. "They are
honest enough."
Matava, meantime, was making ready to set off alone for carriers from
his own village. When he was ready, Templemore expressed a desire to
walk a little way on the road with him 'to take a peep over that little
ridge yonder'; which is a wish common to travellers in a country that
is new to them. But when they reached the ridge, there was only to
be seen another short expanse of undulating savanna, whereupon Jack
decided to return, leaving Matava to continue on his way.
Leonard, left to himself, finished the occupation he had in hand--the
cleaning of his double-barrel--and, having loaded it, strolled out of
the camp in another direction, to take a look round. He left the camp
to itself, not intending to go far, and expecting that his friend would
be back in a quarter of an hour or so. Not far away a 'bell-bird' was
ringing out its strange cry, that has been compared by travellers to
the sound of a convent bell. He had heard these birds often in the
forest since leaving the boats, but, in consequence of the density of
the woods, had never been able to get near one. Here, where the trees
were more open, there seemed to be a better chance, and he followed, as
he thought, the sound. But soon he came to the conclusion that he had
been in error; or the bird had flown across unseen; for the direction
of the sound seemed to have changed. He, therefore, turned off towards
where he fancied the bird now was; and this happened several times,
till at last he became confused and found he had fairly lost his way.
It is a peculiarity of the 'bell-bird,' as it is of many other birds
of the forest, that their notes are often misleading; it is one of
those cases of what has been termed by naturalists 'Ventriloquism in
Nature,' many examples of which the traveller in these wild regions
comes across. Leonard had arrived at the head of a small glen, and
found himself on a grassy bank beside a little stream, sheltered from
the glare of the sun by over-hanging branches. He laid down his gun
and went to take a drink of the inviting limpid water, and then sat
awhile on the bank looking down the picturesque ravine. It was very
quiet and peaceful all around, and he fell into one of his day-dreams.
At such times the minutes pass on unheeded; and he sat for a long while
oblivious of all that went on about him. But presently, behind him, a
silent, cunning enemy crept up unseen and unheard till near enough for
a spring; then there was a loud roar, and the next moment Leonard was
lying on the ground in the grasp of an enormous jaguar.
For a minute or two the beast stood over him growling, but not touching
him after the first blow that had knocked him down; while Leonard lay
dazed and helpless, with just enough consciousness to have a vague idea
that the best thing he could do, for the moment, was to lie perfectly
still. Then, with another roar, the animal seized him by the shoulder
and began to drag him down the slope towards some bushes. At that
moment Leonard, whose face was turned away from the brute, saw, like
one in a dream, the undergrowth through which he himself had come,
part asunder and three figures appear. Two of them were Templemore and
Matava, who stood rooted to the spot with horror-stricken faces; the
third was a tall stranger who towered above the other two, and who also
stood still for a second or two eyeing the scene, while the jaguar
growled threateningly.
Then the tall stranger advanced, and the animal released its hold and
was itself seized and pulled from over Leonard. In another moment
he felt himself lifted in two giant arms, and, looking up, saw the
stranger bending upon him a gaze in which there seemed a world of
tender anxiety and compassion. Everything appeared to swim around him,
and he knew that consciousness was leaving him; yet, for a space, the
fascination of that look seemed to hold him chained.
"You--must--be--Monella!" he said, softly. Then he fainted.
CHAPTER IV.
THE FIRST VIEW OF RORAIMA.
When Leonard came to himself sufficiently to see and understand what
was going on around him, for the moment he thought himself once more in
his days of childhood; for the first face he recognised was Carenna's,
his Indian nurse, who was bending over him in much the same way and
with the same expression as of yore. But, when he looked round, he
saw that he was in an Indian hut; and slowly the memory of what had
occurred came back to him.
Carenna, when she saw that he was himself again, gave a joyous cry;
then, conscious of her indiscretion, put her finger on her lips
to imply that he must remain quiet. He felt no inclination to do
otherwise, and soon fell into a refreshing sleep, which lasted for some
time.
When next he opened his eyes they rested on another pair, large and
steady, and that seemed to have a wondrous depth and meaning in them.
Then he saw that they belonged to the stranger who had pulled the
jaguar off, and was now sitting alongside the mattress on which he lay.
"Keep thee quiet, my son," said he in a low, musical voice. "All goes
well, and in two or three days you will be as strong as ever again."
There was something soothing in the mere glance of the eye, and in the
very tones of the man's voice; and Leonard, reassured by them, remained
passive for a while, till Carenna again appeared with a drink she had
prepared for him.
When, later, Jack Templemore came in, and Leonard was able to talk, he
found he had been ill for a week, and that he was then in the hut of
Carenna at the village of Daranato.
"I've had an awfully anxious time of it," Jack said; "but Monella seems
skilled in doctoring, and Carenna has been most devoted in her nursing
and attention and would brook no interference; so I've had to hang
around and pass the time as best I could."
When once Leonard had 'turned the corner,' as Jack called it, he
recovered rapidly, and was able, in a few days, as Monella had
predicted, to get about again. Nor was he any the worse for his mishap;
for the beast's teeth had just missed scrunching the bone.
When he wished to offer his thanks to Monella, the latter put him off
with a quiet smile.
"We think nothing of little incidents like that, my son, in a land such
as this. Your thanks are due to God who sent me to you at the moment;
not to me. Being there, I could not well have done otherwise than I
did."
It appeared that Monella had come out from the village a day or two
before to look out for them, and had fallen in with Matava. The Indian
had led him towards the camp, near which they had met Jack, who was
wandering about in search of Leonard. On learning that he was missing,
Monella had proceeded to the camp and thence--by some method known only
to himself--had tracked Leonard's footsteps--a thing that even Matava
confessed himself unable to do--and thus had come upon him just in time.
"When I saw how matters stood," said Jack, "my very heart seemed
to stand still. Neither I nor Matava dared to risk a shot, for the
brute stood up nearly facing us and holding you in his mouth. But
that wonder, Monella, quietly laid down his rifle and drew his knife,
keeping the beast fixed with his eye all the time; then he walked up to
it as coolly as though he were going to stroke a pet cat, put out his
hand and caught it with such a grip on the throat that it nearly choked
and had to let go of you at once. And presto! Before it could get its
breath, whizz went the knife into its heart! And he lifted it up and
threw it away from him, clear of you, as easily as one might a small
dog. Then he picked you up and carried you to the camp, as though you
were but a baby. The whole affair took only a few moments, and passed
almost like a dream. It's fortunate he happened to come out to meet us.
How could he possibly know we were coming?"
"I have always told you," said Leonard dreamily, "that there seems
to be a strange sympathy between my old Indian nurse and myself. She
tells me she 'felt' that I was in the neighbourhood, and sent word to
Monella, who at once went to her, and then came on to try to intercept
us. Only, you know, you never believed in those things. Yet here, you
see, Monella must have believed her, or he would not have had such
confidence in our coming as to wait about for us as he did."
"It's very strange," Jack admitted. "I confess I do not understand you
'dreamers.' I am out of the running there altogether.
"They say," he continued, "that from the top of yonder low mountain
before us you can see Roraima pretty plainly. But I had no heart to
go out to look for it while you were so ill, and, since you have been
getting better, I have preferred to stay and keep you company. But now,
I suppose, it will not be long before we set eyes, at last, upon the
wonderful mountain that is to be our 'El Dorado'!"
[Illustration: "THERE BEFORE THEM ... THEY SAW THE MYSTERIOUS
RORAIMA."
[_Page 39._]
When Elwood heard this, he became anxious to get a sight of the object
of their journey; so, two days after, they started before dawn, with
Monella, to walk to the top of the low mountain Jack had pointed out.
They reached the summit of the ridge just when the sun was rising,
and there before them, like a veritable fairy-land in the sky, they
saw the mysterious Roraima, its pink-white and red cliffs illumined
by the morning sun, and floating in a great sea of white mist, above
which showed, here and there, the peaks of other lower mountains like
the islands they once were, but looking dark and heavy, in their
half-shadow, beside the glorious beauty of this queen of them all, that
reared herself far above everything around.
It is impossible to give an adequate idea of the impressive grandeur of
this mountain, which might be likened to a gigantic sphinx, serene and
impassive in its inaccessibility.
Or it might be likened to a colossal fortress, built by Titans to guard
the entrance to an enchanted land beyond; for the cliffs at its summit
appeared curiously turreted, while at the corners were great rounded
masses that might pass for towers and bastions.
In places, with the light-coloured cliffs were to be seen darker rocks,
black and dark green and brown, worked in, as it were, with strange
figures, as though inlaid by giant hands. And everywhere the sides were
perpendicular, smooth, and glassy-looking. Scarce a shrub or creeper
found a precarious hold there; but down from the height, at one spot,
fell a great mass of water--like a broad band of silver sparkling and
glistening in the sunlight--that came with one mad leap from the top
and disappeared in a cloud of spray and mist two thousand feet below.
Further along could be seen other narrower falls like silver threads.
There was no crest or peak as with most mountains. The top was a
table-land, beyond whose edge one could see nothing. This edge was
fringed with what looked like herbage, but, seen through a powerful
field-glass, proved to be great forest trees.
Then, as the sun rose higher and warmed the air, the mist cleared
somewhat around the lower part of the precipitous cliffs, so that
far, far down could now be seen the foliage that crowned the great
primæval forest--the 'forest of demons'--that girdled the cliffs' base.
Gradually the mist descended, and the full forest's height showed up
like a Titanic pedestal of green, itself floating in the haze that
still remained below.
By degrees the mist rolled down the mountain's side, for below this
extensive forest-girdle the actual base and lower slopes began slowly
to appear, with waterfalls, and cascades, and rushing torrents and
great rivers dashing and foaming in their rocky beds. Then other
intervening ridges and patches of forest and open savanna gradually
came into view, with the full forms of the surrounding smaller
mountains, the whole making up a panorama that was marvellous in its
extent and in the variety of its shapes and tints.
But scarcely had the sun revealed this wondrous sight to their
astonished eyes, when a cloud descended upon Roraima's height.
Almost imperceptibly it grew darker, then darker still and yet more
sombre, till the erst-while fairy fortress seemed to frown in gloomy
grandeur. Its salmon-tinted sides, but now so airy-looking in their
lightness, turned almost black, and seemed to glower upon the brilliant
landscape. The forest also lost its verdant colouring and looked dark
and forbidding enough to pass for an enchanted wood peopled by dragons,
demons, and hobgoblins to guard the grim castle in its centre.
Then the cloud descended lower still, and castle and haunted forest
passed out of sight, as swiftly and completely as though all had been a
magical illusion that had vanished at a touch of the magician's wand.
Leonard rubbed his eyes and felt half inclined to think he had been
dreaming. All this time not a word had been exchanged. Each had seemed
wrapped up in the weird attraction of the scene; and the new-comers,
even the practical Jack, had been astounded, almost overwhelmed, at the
sight of the stupendous cliffs and tower-like rocks of the mysterious
mountain, and its changes from gorgeous colouring and ethereal beauty
to black opacity and shapelessness.
Presently Monella turned and led the way back to the camp, the others
following, each absorbed in his own thoughts.
Templemore was more impressed by what he had just witnessed than he
would have cared, perhaps, to own. Never before had he seen such a
mountain, though he had crossed the Andes, and had looked upon the
loftiest and grandest on the American Continent. To him there was
something about Roraima that was wanting in all other mountains;
a suggestiveness of the unseen, of latent possibilities. He could
now understand why the Indians regarded it with fear and awe. It
was, indeed, impossible to look upon it without believing that some
wonderful story was hidden in its inaccessible bosom; some mysterious
secret that it kept jealously concealed from the rest of the world.
For, perhaps, the first time in his life, he was conscious of a feeling
that bordered on the superstitious. What if that which they had
witnessed were meant to shadow forth a warning; to be an omen! Did it
portend that, should they gain the summit of Roraima, they would find
there indeed a sort of earthly Paradise, but that it would turn--as
suddenly and completely as the fairy-like first view had changed that
morning--to the darksome solitude of a charnel house?
But Leonard, for his part, when he came to talk upon the matter, was
only more enthusiastic than before; and Monella smiled with indulgent
approbation when, with the ingenuous impulsiveness of youth, he
enlarged upon his delight and expectations.
When they returned to the Indian village preparations were begun for a
forward move to the place Monella had made his head-quarters; not far
from the commencement of the mysterious forest the Indians regarded
with such dread.
During the march thither they had many more glimpses of Roraima;
finally they emerged upon the last ridge that faced it, from which a
full view of its towering sides and of the forest at their base could
be obtained.
Between them was a deep ravine, along which flowed a narrow river
dotted with great boulders. Having crossed this with some difficulty
and ascended the other side, they reached an extensive undulating
plateau, an open savanna with here and there small clumps of trees.
They were now almost under the shadow of the great cliffs, and before
them, three or four miles away, was the beginning of the encircling
wood.
Rounding the end of a thicket distant a mile or so from this wood, they
came suddenly upon a large and substantially built log hut, and this,
Monella told them, was his temporary residence. Near it were several
smaller huts roughly but ingeniously formed of boughs and wood poles,
which the Indians who worked with him had constructed for themselves.
As they entered the larger dwelling Monella thus addressed them:
"This, my friends, is where we shall have to live until our work in
'Roraima Forest' shall be completed. Make yourselves as much at home
as the circumstances will permit; we are likely to occupy it for some
time."
And a fairly comfortable home it was; far more so indeed than the young
men had ventured to expect. There was rough furniture, there were lamps
for light at night, a number of books, and many other things that took
them altogether by surprise.
"It must have taken you a long time," said Jack Templemore, "to get all
these things transported here, and this place built and its furniture
made."
"It has taken me years!" was the reply.
The Indians who accompanied them, numbering about twenty, were all
of Matava's own tribe; altogether a different race from those who
had accompanied them nearly to Daranato and had been paid off and
gone home. When Monella had left his abode, temporarily, at Carenna's
request, to come to meet the two, all the Indians had gone with him,
objecting to be left so near to the 'demons' wood' without him. Now,
however, they quickly distributed themselves among the huts, one acting
as cook and servant in the house, and Matava attending to all other
matters as general overlooker.
So far little had been said between the young men and their strange
host as to the objects and details of their enterprise. The
circumstances of their introduction had been so unusual that the
discussion had been tacitly postponed until Leonard should have
recovered sufficiently to take part in it. And even then, when Jack had
broached the subject, Monella had remarked,
"You had better wait till you have been to my cabin near Roraima, when
I can better explain the nature of the undertaking. Then, if you do not
care to join me in it, or we seem unlikely to get on well together, we
will part friends and you will merely have had an interesting bit of
travelling." So all farther explanation had been adjourned.
"I call this more than a 'cabin,'" said Leonard, when they had had time
to make a sort of tour of inspection. "I think we ought to give it a
better name. Suppose we call it 'Monella Lodge.'" And 'Monella Lodge'
it was henceforth called.
CHAPTER V.
IN THE 'DEMONS' WOOD.'
The following day, Monella led the two friends to the road he had begun
to cut into Roraima Forest; but first he showed them two llamas that
were kept in a rough corral near his dwelling.
"I brought them all the way from the other side of the continent," he
said. "You know that there they are the only beasts of burden, and in
this country there are none. They will be useful to us later."
As to the so-called 'road,' it was really but a pathway; and, in
places, almost a kind of tunnel. The great trees of this primæval
forest were so high and dense that but little daylight penetrated to
the ground beneath; and on all sides the undergrowth was so thick and
tangled that almost every foot had to be cut out with the axe. Here and
there one could see for a few yards between the giant trunks, and at
these spots the path had been made wider. One curious thing Jack noted:
the path did not start from that part of the wood opposite to 'Monella
Lodge'; nor even from the margin of the wood itself.
Asked why this was, Monella thus made answer: "If in our absence others
should come here, they might hunt up and down for the path a long time
before they hit upon it--and very likely never find it. On this stony
ground the tracks we leave are very slight and difficult to trace."
"But," said Jack, "your Indians know the way."
Monella smiled.
"Not one of them would ever show another man the way," he replied, "let
him offer what he might."
"But why all these precautions?"
"Later you will understand."
But, when Jack came to look round, his heart sank within him.
"I should not care to have a few miles of railway to cut through wood
like this," he said. "It's the worst I ever saw. I do not wonder
you have found it more than you could manage--only yourself and
these Indians--and it's a wonder you ever got them to join at all,
considering all the circumstances."
"Yes; that's where it is," Monella answered. "Many men would have
despaired, I think. We have had trouble, too. Two Indians met with
accidents and were badly hurt; though now they are recovering. Then,
some of the small streams that issue from the mountain became suddenly
swollen once or twice, and washed away the rough bridges we had made
across them; and we have met with many unexpected obstacles, such as
great masses of rock, or a fallen tree, some giant of the forest that
was so big it was easier to go round it than to cut through it."
That evening, Monella explained his project, and showed the young men
the plans and diagrams Dr. Lorien had spoken of, and then went on to
say,
"If you decide to join me, you ought to know something of the language
in which these old documents are written. I both read and write it, and
I speak it too. You will find it interesting to decipher them, and an
occupation for the evenings."
Jack was not enthusiastic at this suggestion; but Leonard cordially
embraced it.
"To learn the language of an unknown nation that has passed away will
be curious and _very_ interesting," he declared, "and will, as you say,
help to pass the time. You may as well learn it too, Jack. You speak
the Indian--why not learn this? Then we can talk together in a tongue
that no one but ourselves and our friend here can understand."
"And where did these ancient people 'hang out'?" asked Jack
irreverently.
"Have you heard of the lake of Titicaca and the ancient ruins of
the great city of Tiahuanaco; a city on this continent believed by
archæologists to be at least as old as Thebes and the Pyramids?"
Monella asked.
"_I_ have," Leonard answered, "though I know very little about them.
But I believe I was in that country when very young, and had a curious
escape from death there."
Monella turned his gaze quickly upon the young man.
"Tell me about it. What do you remember?" he asked.
"Oh, I do not remember anything; I was too young. But I have been
_told_ how that my father went somewhere in that district on a
prospecting expedition, and, not liking to be separated from my mother,
took her with him, and my nurse, Carenna, and myself. Whilst there they
came across a small settlement of white people, as I understand, and
remained with them some time. There was amongst these people a child of
my own age, and so exactly like me, that my nurse grew almost as fond
of it as she was of me, and used to like to take the two out together.
One day, it seems, we both went to sleep on the grass, and she left us
for a few minutes to gather fruit. When she returned a poisonous snake
crawled hissing away, and she found the other poor little child had
been bitten and was dead.
"That's all I know about it. Who the people were, and where the place
was, I cannot say. I have always understood, however, that it was
somewhere in the direction of Lake Titicaca. But Carenna could tell you
more."
"And what about this ancient people of yours?" Templemore asked of
Monella, who still gazed thoughtfully and inquiringly at Leonard.
Templemore had heard of Elwood's early adventure many times before.
"High up on the eastern slopes of the great Andes is an extensive
plain, as large as the whole of British Guiana," the old man replied.
"It is twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea, and there, at
that great height, is also the largest lake of South America, Lake
Titicaca, over three thousand square miles in extent, on the shores of
which was once a mighty city called Tiahuanaco. It is now in ruins;
yet, even amongst its ruins, it boasts of some of the oldest and most
wonderful monuments in the world. Two thousand feet above this again,
are another large plain and another lake, little known to the outside
world, being, indeed, almost inaccessible. It was there my people
dwelt, and tradition asserts that they retired thither when driven
out of Tiahuanaco by some invasion of hordes from other parts of the
continent."
"Is it a very old language, do you suppose?" Jack asked.
"Undoubtedly one of the oldest in the world; and yet not difficult to
acquire by those who know the language of Matava and his tribe--as you
do. It has some affinity to it."
As regards the tongue spoken by the Indians, Leonard had learnt it from
Carenna in his childhood; and Templemore had picked up a good deal from
the same source, as well as on his hunting expeditions with Leonard and
Matava.
When it came to discussing terms, Monella declared that he had none to
make, except that on no consideration whatever should any other white
man be invited or allowed to join them. As to the rest, he simply
suggested that any wealth they might acquire by their enterprise should
be shared equally between them.
"Suppose one of us were to die," observed Jack. "How then? Might not
the survivors choose some one else to join them? Though," he added
thoughtfully, "if it were _you_, we should not be likely to go on."
"_I_ shall not die, my friend, until my task be finished," replied
Monella with conviction.
"You cannot say," was Jack's rejoinder.
"No, I do not say I _know_, yet I can say I _feel_ it. No man dieth
till he hath fulfilled the work in life allotted to him by God,"
Monella finished solemnly.
The others already knew him, by this time, as a man with deep-seated
religious convictions; though he made no parade of his beliefs. He
seemed to have a simple, steady faith in an overruling Providence, and
showed it, unostentatiously, in many ways, both in his actions, and in
the advice he gave, on occasion, to the young men.
In the result, the bargain--if it can be so termed--was concluded.
Elwood and Templemore formally enrolled themselves under Monella's
leadership, and henceforth performed the duties he assigned to them;
amongst other things assisting almost daily in the formation of the
path that was to take them through the forest. When not so engaged,
they would go out with some of the Indians on hunting or fishing
excursions in search of food.
Monella had with him, amongst other things, a beautifully finished
theodolite of wonderful accuracy and delicacy; with this he settled
the direction of the road from day to day. Often, obstacles were
encountered that made it impossible to go straight; these had to be
worked round and the proper direction picked up again by means of
Monella's calculations.
Another circumstance worthy of note and that caused the two young men
at first some surprise, was the fact that Monella had with him some
mirrors specially prepared and fixed in strong cases for carrying
about in rough travel, and intended for heliographic signalling. They
frequently took these out and practised with them by sending messages
to one another from the ridges of hills far apart. Monella tried also
to instruct Matava and some of the Indians in the work, but without
success. They were indeed afraid of the glasses, and looked upon it all
as some kind of magic.
"Wouldn't it be simpler to go up the bed of this stream that you
seem to have been following more or less all the time, even if it be
longer?" observed Jack one day.
Monella shook his head.
"No use, my friend. It divides into so many branches; and then again,
in case of a rise of its waters, we should have all our road submerged
at once."
On Sundays they always rested. This, it appeared, had been Monella's
custom all along.
In his conversations in the evenings and during their Sunday strolls,
he would instruct and amuse his hearers with his reminiscences and
adventures in all parts of the world, or with his intimate knowledge
of the wild life around them. From his account, he had undergone, at
times, terrible and extraordinary hardships and privations on the
plains and in the forests of India and Africa; of Australia; the
Steppes of Tartary; the Highlands of Thibet; the interior of China and
Japan; the wilds of Siberia; of Canada; the prairies of North America,
and the pampas, plains, and rugged mountains of South America--all,
as Dr. Lorien had said, seemed to be alike known to him. Nor was he
less familiar with the countries and cities of Europe; yet he spoke of
his travels and experiences in a simple manner that had in it nothing
of boastfulness or ostentation, but as though his sole object were to
amuse and entertain his two young friends.
As they penetrated farther into the forest, their work became harder
and the progress slower. This latter was unavoidable, since each day
they had to walk farther and farther to and fro. Moreover, the Indians,
who had displayed greater courage--so Monella had said--now that they
had two more white men with them, once more began to show signs of
nervous apprehension and fear.
This was doubtless due to the great difference in many ways--some
definite enough, others indefinable and vague--between this forest and
those generally to be found in the tropical regions of South America.
Not only were the trees still more gigantic--making it gloomier--and
the undergrowths more dense and tangled, but the birds and animals,
judging from their cries, were unfamiliar to them. Many of the sounds
usual to forest life in British Guiana were absent; the constant note
of the 'bell-bird' was not heard, nor was even the startling roar of
the howling monkeys. Instead were heard other sounds and noises of
an entirely novel and peculiar kind, unknown even to the Indians who
had been used to forest travelling all their lives; sounds that even
Monella either could not explain--or hesitated to. One of these was a
horrid combination of hiss and snort and whistle, loud and prolonged
like the stertorous breathings of some monstrous creature. Some of the
Indians declared that this was the sound traditionally said to proceed
from the great 'camoodi,' the monstrous serpent that is supposed to
guard the way to Roraima mountain; while others inclined to the
opinion that it was made by the equally dreaded 'didi,' the gigantic
'wild man of the woods,' that also had, as they averred, its special
haunts in this particular forest. At times, a startling, long-drawn
cry would echo through the wood, so human in its tones as sometimes
to cause them to rush in the direction it seemed to come from, in the
belief that it was a cry for help from one of the party who was in
danger. This strange, harrowing cry, the Indians called 'The cry of a
Lost Soul'[6]; and they were always seized with panic when it was heard.
[6] This strange cry is often heard in the depths of the forests
in this region, and has never been accounted for, the only
explanation given by the Indians being the one stated above,
viz., that it is 'the cry of a Lost Soul.' It is alluded to by
the American poet, Whittier, in the following lines:--
"In that black forest where, when day is done,
* * * * *
Darkly from sunset to the rising sun,
A cry as of the pained heart of the wood,
The long despairing moan of solitude
And darkness and the absence of all good,
Startles the traveller with a sound so drear,
So full of hopeless agony and fear,
His heart stands still, and listens with his ear.
--The guide, as if he heard a death-bell toll,
Crosses himself, and whispers, 'A Lost Soul!'"
There were other cries and sounds equally mysterious and perplexing;
and, so the Indians began to declare, strange sights too. Of these they
could give no clear account, but they maintained that, in the shadows
in the darker places, or just before nightfall, while returning from
their work, they now and then caught passing glimpses of vague shapes
that seemed to peer at them and then disappear within the gloomy
forest depths. And even Elwood and Templemore were conscious of the
occasional presence of these silent unfamiliar shapes, and sometimes
fired at them, though without result. These facts they made no attempt
to conceal from one another, though, in their intercourse with the
Indians, they put a bold face on matters, and affected to disbelieve
the stories told them.
Monella alone was--or appeared to be--entirely undisturbed by all these
things. If conscious of them, he gave no sign of it, but went about
whatever he had to do as though danger were to him an unknown quantity.
There was, however, one unpleasant fact that could not be ignored, and
that was the unusual number of 'bush-masters' of large size in the
wood. This is a poisonous snake, very gaudily coloured, whose bite is
certain death. It does not--like most serpents--try to get out of the
way of human beings, but, instead, rushes to attack them with great
swiftness and ferocity. It is the only _aggressive_ venomous snake of
the American continent. It usually attains a length of five or six
feet; but, in this forest, the explorers killed many of eight or nine
feet, and two--that came on to the attack together--were nearly eleven
feet long, with fangs as large as a parrot's claw. In consequence of
the frequency of the attacks of these reptiles, so much dreaded by the
Indians, and indeed by all travellers, one or two of a working party,
armed with shot guns, had to be told off to keep watch; rifles being of
no use for the purpose.
Templemore, as it happened, had had a bad fright when a child from an
adventure with a snake; and this--as is frequently the case--had left
in his mind, all the rest of his life, a great horror of serpents. He
found, therefore, the presence of these 'lords of the woods,' as their
Indian name implies, a source of ever-present abhorrence.
Besides the 'bush-masters,' there were the 'labarri'--also a large
venomous snake, but not aggressive like the other--and rattlesnakes.
There were also, no doubt, boa-constrictors, or 'camoodis,' of the
ordinary kind; but, thus far, only one had been seen, and that, though
large, was nothing out of the way as regards size for that country.
Nor were serpents their only visible enemies; there were others of a
kind new to the two young men. One day, while with the working party at
the farthest part of the track, they heard the whole forest suddenly
resound with a perfect babel of discordant noises. There were shrill
cries and squeals, hoarse roars and growls, then a kind of trumpeting.
The Indians retreated, throwing down their axes to pick up their
rifles. As they hastily retired, four large animals sprang into their
path, one after the other, with loud roars and growls. But Monella,
who was behind Elwood, stepped forward and rolled two over with his
repeating rifle, and Jack stopped another of the beasts with his. The
fourth, apparently not liking the way things were going, leaped into
the thicket and disappeared; though, judging from the sounds that came
from the direction it had taken, there were many more of its fellows
close at hand. Gradually their cries grew fainter, until they died away
in the distance.
Meanwhile, further shots had given the _coup de grâce_ to the three
that had been knocked over, and the victors went up to examine them.
They seemed to be a kind of panther or leopard of a light grey colour,
approaching white in places, with markings of a deeper colour.
Neither Templemore nor Elwood had ever previously seen any animal, or
the skin of one, at all like these. They were, moreover, of different
shape from either the jaguar or the tiger-cat; larger than the latter,
and more thick-set than the former.
"These must be the 'white jaguars' that the Indians say help to guard
Roraima," Jack observed, looking in perplexity at the strange creatures.
"Yes," said Matava, who had now come up, "and they are 'Warracaba
tigers.'"[7]
[7] A vivid account of an adventure with these formidable animals
will be found in Mr. Barrington Brown's 'Canoe and Camp Life
in British Guiana,' page 71. Very little is known about them,
but they are believed to have their haunts in the unexplored
mountain districts, from which they occasionally descend into
other parts. Mr. Brown states that the Indians fear them above
everything; and, while comparatively brave as regards jaguars and
tiger-cats of all kinds, give way to utter panic at the mere idea
that 'Warracaba tigers' are in their neighbourhood. It is said
that nothing stops or frightens them except a broad stream of
water--not even fire.
"What on earth are they?" asked Leonard.
"Warracaba tiger," Monella said, "is the name given to a species of
small 'tiger' (in America all such animals are called 'tigers') that
hunts in packs, and is reputed to be unusually ferocious. They have a
peculiar trumpeting cry, not unlike the sound made by the Warracaba
bird--the 'trumpet-bird'--hence their name."
"They look to me more like light-coloured pumas," Jack remarked.
"No; pumas are not marked like that, and do not make the sounds we
heard. Besides, you need never fear a puma, and should never shoot at
one, unless it is attacking your domestic animals."
Both Templemore and Elwood looked up in surprise.
"I always thought," the latter said, "that pumas were such bloodthirsty
animals."
"So they are, to other animals--even the jaguar they attack and kill.
But men they never touch, if let alone. I do not believe there is a
single authenticated instance of a puma's hurting any human being, man,
woman or child. In the Andes and Brazil--where I have lived long enough
to know--the Gauchos call the puma 'Amigo del cristiano'--'the friend
of man'--and they think it an evil thing to kill one."[8]
[8] A very interesting account of the South American puma will
be found in 'The Naturalist in La Plata,' by Mr. W. H. Hudson.
He states that the puma has a strange natural liking for, or
sympathy with, man; that, though ferocious and bloodthirsty in
the extreme as regards other animals, yet it never attacks man,
woman, or child, awake or asleep. He quotes many authorities, and
gives numerous instances, of a very remarkable character, from
the accounts of hunters and others whom he has himself seen and
questioned.
A few days after, they were attacked again by these furious creatures,
and this time did not come off so well, for two of the Indians were
badly mauled. But for Monella's cool bravery, indeed, matters would
have been much worse; and Templemore had a narrow escape. Then, a day
or two later, one of the Indians was stung by a scorpion; and Jack came
near being bitten by a rattlesnake--would have been but for Monella,
who, just in time, boldly seized the reptile by the tail, and, swinging
it two or three times round his head, dashed its brains out against a
piece of rock.
Indeed, upon all occasions where there was any kind of danger,
Monella's ready, quiet courage was always displayed in a manner that
won both the admiration of his white colleagues and the devotion of his
Indian followers. Moreover, as Dr. Lorien had stated, and as Leonard
had found by actual experience, he was skilled in medicine and surgery.
To wounds he applied the leaves of some plant, of which he had a store
with him in a dried state, the curative effects of which were reputed
among the Indians to be almost marvellous.
But even these incidents were surpassed by a startling experience
they had a short time afterwards. On going to their working ground
one morning, two or three Indians in advance of the remainder of the
party saw, lying across the path, what they took to be the trunk
of a tree that had fallen during the night; and they sat upon it,
indolently, to wait for the others to come up. Suddenly, one of them
sprang up, exclaiming, "It's alive! I felt it move! It is breathing!"
They all jumped up, in alarm, when the great snake--for such it proved
to be--glided off into the wood. Most likely the others would have
ridiculed their story, but that Templemore happened to come up in time
to witness what occurred. And through the underwood, on both sides of
the path, was plainly to be seen a sort of small tunnel that marked the
place where the serpent had been lying asleep.
Matava and his fellows, of course, insisted that this was the great
'camoodi,' that Indian tradition had long declared existed in this
forest--set there specially, by the demons of the mountain, to guard it
from intrusion.
These constant dangers and adventures made the task of keeping the
Indians from deserting doubly difficult, and rendered the work both
harassing and tedious to the others. Only Monella showed no weariness,
no sign of the strain it all involved; so far from that, these troubles
seemed only to increase his vigilance, his power of endurance, and his
determination.
And all the time they were cutting their way through vegetation that
would have astonished and delighted the heart of a botanical collector
such as Dr. Lorien. Not only within the wood, but in the whole district
round, unknown and wondrous flowers and plants abounded. But the
explorers had neither time nor inclination to take that interest in
them they merited, and would, at any other time, have undoubtedly
excited.[9]
[9] See extract given in the preface (page viii.) from Richard
Schomburgk's book 'Reissen in Britisch Guiana.'
CHAPTER VI.
THE MYSTERIOUS CAVERN.
When the time drew near for the adventurers, if Monella's calculations
proved correct, to reach the base of the towering rock towards which
they were making their way with so much labour, a suppressed excitement
became apparent throughout nearly the whole party. It was clearly
visible in the Indians and in Elwood; and Templemore, even, showed
signs of anxiety. Monella alone was imperturbable as ever, and, if
any unusual feeling arose in his mind, there was no trace of it to be
seen in his placid manner. Perhaps a close observer might have seen,
at times, a little more fire in the gaze of his keen eyes; but it was
scarcely noticeable to those around him.
Elwood did not attempt to hide the state of expectancy into which he
had gradually worked himself; but while he, on the one hand, grew
more excited, Jack Templemore, on the other, became steadily more
pessimistic and moody. Since the adventure of the great 'camoodi' he
seemed nervous and depressed, and he no longer troubled himself to
conceal the discontent that now possessed him. The continued sojourn
in that terrible forest was becoming too much for his peculiar
temperament. Its gloom oppressed him more and more each day; and he
had become silent and unsociable, often sitting for long intervals
stolidly smoking and, if addressed, replying only in monosyllables.
They had now been for some weeks in the wood, camping in it every
night, and going back to 'Monella Lodge' only for the Sundays. To this
rule Monella rigidly adhered; but, since it took the greater part of
a day to reach the edge of the forest from the point they had now
attained, but little work was done at the path-making on Saturdays,
Sundays, or Mondays. Hence their progress had become slower, and
Templemore's discontent and impatience increased in proportion.
One morning, after breakfast, Jack was sitting on a log moodily
smoking, while Elwood was busying himself clearing up after the
meal recently finished. Monella and all the Indians had gone to the
path-end, and were out of sight; but the strokes of their axes, and
their calls one to another, could be heard distinctly, now and again,
echoing through the almost silent wood. Very little else broke the
stillness, but once or twice they had heard that weird sound, half
hiss, half whistle, that the Indians attributed to the monstrous
serpent. Presently, Jack took his pipe from his mouth and addressed
Elwood:--
"You heard what Monella said last night, that he hoped to-day or
to-morrow would see the end of this work. Supposing, as I expect, that
we find that we merely run against inaccessible cliff, I want to know
what you intend to do. To attempt to work either to right or to left,
along the foot of the rock, in the hope of finding an opening would
be, I feel convinced, a mere wild-goose chase, and would lead us only
farther into this hateful forest, and uselessly prolong our stay in it.
Now, Leonard, is it agreed that the thing is to end when we get to the
cliff? I've asked you again and again as to this, but you always put me
off."
"I put it off--till the time comes for deciding about it; that's
all, you old grumbler. What is the use of talking before we see how
Monella's calculations come out?"
"If I grumble, as you call it, it is because I am anxious for others.
I gave a solemn promise before I left my poor old mother that I would
not rush into any obvious and unnecessary danger; any danger, that is,
beyond the ordinary risks of travel in a country like Guiana. Now----"
"Well, what dangers have we courted that are beyond the 'ordinary risks
of travel,' as you call them?" Elwood demanded cheerfully. "We have
come safely through forests and plains thus far, and now we are in
another forest----"
"Yes, but what a forest! I have been, as you know, pioneering in the
furthermost recesses of Brazil and Peru; I know a little--just a
_little_--you will allow, of wild life; but never have I seen the like
of this wood! No wonder the Indians shun and fear it; indeed, it is a
marvel to me how Monella ever induced them to enter upon this work,
and it is still more wonderful how he has managed to keep them from
deserting him. Heaven knows what we have experienced of the place is
enough to try the courage of the best--the most ferocious 'tigers,' the
biggest serpents of one sort ever dreamed of, and the more deadly and
more fiercely aggressive venomous ones; strange creatures that one can
only catch glimpses of and can never see; sounds so weird and unnatural
that even the Indians can offer no explanation. That great serpent,
alone, fills me with a continual cold horror. We never know where it
may be lurking; it may make a rush at one of us at any moment, and what
chance would one have with such a beast? What consolation, to think it
would probably get a bullet through its head from one of us, if, while
that was being done, it crushed another to a jelly?"
"Your old horror and dislike of serpents make you nervous, old boy.
I wish you could get over it. In all else, you know, you are as bold
as--as--well, as Monella himself; and that is saying a lot, isn't it?
You must admit that, if our enterprise has its dangers, we have a
leader who knows what he is doing."
"A splendid fellow! but--a dreamer--or--a madman!"
"A madman! He has method in his madness then! I admire him more and
more every day. He is a man to lead an army; to inspire the weakest;
to put courage into the most timid. I do not wonder the Indians are
so devoted to him. _I_ would follow him anywhere, do anything he told
me! His very glance seems to thrill you through with a courage that
makes you ready to dare everything! He is a born leader of men! He
carries out, in every action, in his manner, his air, his principles,
his extraordinary cool courage, and his gentle, simple courtesy, all
my ideas of a hero of romance of the olden time--the very _beau idéal_
of a great king and chivalrous knight. _I_ can see all this; his very
looks, his slightest motions are full of a strange dignity; never have
I seen one who so excited alike my admiration and my affection! Yet, I
do admit he is a mystery. One knows nothing----"
"Exactly," Jack burst in, interrupting at last the speech of the
enthusiastic Leonard. "It is true, what you say, in a measure. He seems
to have in him the making of such a man as you, I can see, have in your
mind--a hero, a leader of men. Yet here is he, an unknown wanderer
on the face of the earth, giving up the last years of his life to a
fatuous chase after El Dorado, with a few Indians and a couple of
credulous young idiots joining in his mad quest. I like him; I admire
him; I believe in his sincerity. But I say he is mad all the same, a
dreamer; and for the matter of that, so are you. You suit each other,
you two. Two dreamers together!" And Templemore got up and began pacing
up and down, restless in body and disturbed in mind.
Leonard watched him with a half smile; but Templemore looked serious
and anxious.
"We are surrounded by hidden enemies--many of them deadly creatures,"
he went on gloomily. "Already three of us have fallen victims, and
we know not who may be the next. Even the most constant and watchful
vigilance does not avail in a place like this; and the never-ceasing
worry of it is becoming more than I can stand. One wants eyes like a
hawk's and ears like an Indian's. One cannot feel safe for a single
minute; you want eyes at the back of your head----"
Leonard went up and put his hand on the other's arm.
"All because you are so anxious about _me_ and others, dear old boy,"
he said. "If you really thought of yourself alone you would never
trouble; but you make a great affectation of nervous apprehension for
yourself, while all the time you are thinking only of me."
Templemore shook his head.
"I don't know how it is," he returned, "but the thought of that great
snake _haunts_ me. I feel as if some terrible trouble were in store
for us through it. A kind of presentiment; a feeling I have never had
before----"
Elwood burst out laughing.
"A presentiment! Great Scott! _You_ confessing to a presentiment! You
who always deride _my_ presentiments, and dreams, and omens! Well, this
is too good, upon my word! Who is the dreamer _now_, I should like to
know?"
Just then they heard a call, and, looking along the path, saw Monella
at some distance beckoning to them.
"Bring a lantern," they heard him say, "and come with me, both of you."
"A lantern!" exclaimed Jack. He took one up and examined it to see that
there was plenty of oil. "What on earth can he want with a lantern? Is
he going to look for the sun in this land of shadow?"
When they came up to Monella they looked at him inquiringly, but no
sign was to be had from a study of his impassive face. Yet there
seemed, Jack thought, a softer gleam in his eyes when he met his gaze.
"I think our work is at an end," he said to the young men; "and,"
addressing Jack more particularly, "your anxiety may now, let us hope,
be lightened."
Then he turned and walked on with a gesture for the two to follow. And
Templemore felt confused; for the words Monella had spoken came like
an answer to the thoughts that had been in his mind; so much so that
he could not help asking himself, had this strange being divined what
he and Elwood had been talking, and he (Jack) had been so seriously
thinking, of?
However, these speculations were soon driven away by surprise at the
change in the character of the wood. The trees grew less thickly, and
the ground became more stony, the undergrowth gradually thinner; more
daylight filtered down from above, and soon they found they could see
between the trunks of the trees for some distance ahead. And then, in
the front of them, it grew lighter and lighter, and shortly the welcome
sound of falling water struck upon their ears. Then they came upon a
stream--presumably the same that they had been, in a measure, following
through the wood--rushing and tumbling in a rocky bed--for they were
going up rising ground--and splashing and foaming in its leaps from
rock to rock. The trees became still sparser, and the light stronger,
till, finally, they emerged into an open space and saw, rising
straight up before them, the perpendicular flat rock that formed the
base of Roraima's lofty summit.
It was here fairly light; indeed, a single ray of sunlight played upon
the splashing water in the little stream, and the spray sparkled in the
gleam. But still very little sunlight ever entered the place. The great
wall of rock that reared itself in a plumb-line two thousand feet into
the sky, overshadowed it completely on the one side; and on the other
were the great trees of this primæval forest towering up three hundred
feet or more, and extending their branches above across almost to the
rock, though below, the nearest trunk was quite fifty yards away. They
stood, in fact, upon the edge of a semi-circular clearing that extended
for a distance of perhaps a hundred yards, its radius being about fifty
yards if taken from the centre of the exposed portion of the cliff. At
each end of this space the trees and undergrowth closed in again upon
the rock in an impenetrable tangled mass, denser, and darker even, than
that through which the explorers had been slowly cutting their way.
Some of the Indians were grouped round the stream, two or three
enjoying the luxury of wading in it, or sitting on the bank and
dangling their feet in the clear cool water. Matava and the others
were busy upon some kind of rough carpentering. Templemore and Elwood
saw that the stream issued from a hole in the rock near one end of the
clearing; and this was of itself a matter for surprise. They were,
however, still more astonished when Monella, with a strange smile,
pointed out another aperture in the rock near the centre of the open
portion of the cliff. It was about sixteen or eighteen feet from the
ground, and was not unlike a window or embrasure in a stone building of
considerable thickness. Within--at a distance of eighteen inches or
so--it seemed however to be closed by solid rock.
The two gazed in silence at this unexpected sight; Elwood showing in
his eager manner the hopes that it aroused, and Templemore pondering in
silent wonder as to what it all meant. That Monella's 'calculations'
had led them to a most unexpected result thus far--whether by accident
or otherwise--he could not but admit. Of the fact there was now no
doubt. But a clearing of this character, opposite to what looked like
an opening in the rock, or entrance to a cave, was a fact too startling
to be the outcome of a mere coincidence, or a lucky chance. He knew
that a party of explorers might spend years--centuries, indeed, if they
could live long enough--in a search for such a place in that forest
and never find it, unless guided by the most exact information. Then
the fact that the opening was so nearly in the centre of the clearing
had a significance of its own; the question whether it was actually
the entrance to a cave or merely a curious accidental hollow in the
rock was thus answered, as it were, in advance. Besides, just below
the 'embrasure' a small stream trickled out, and, falling down the
rock, found its way amongst the stones to the larger water-course
beyond. Here there seemed presumptive evidence that the space at the
back of the rock was hollow--was, in fact, a cave. But in that case
the entrance must have been purposely closed by human hands. If so, by
whom? and when? and why?
These thoughts revolved rapidly in Templemore's mind while he stood
looking at the rock. He glanced around at the giant trees, and thought
of the almost impenetrable character of the forest they had come
through, and he felt that, if the ideas that had come into his mind
were correct, it was impossible to suppose that such a cave could be
the retreat say, of any unknown Indians living at the present time.
Therefore, the puzzle seemed the greater. _Who_ could have been there
before them--and how long ago?
But Matava now approached the cliff bearing a sort of rough ladder
that he had constructed under Monella's directions; this he placed
against the rock just under the opening, planting the ends firmly in
the ground. He had cut down two young saplings and, partly by means of
notches, and partly by twisting some strong fibres to hold them, had
fastened cross-pieces at short intervals, and so fashioned the whole
into a very serviceable ladder.
Monella signed to him to hold it firmly, and proceeded to test its
strength. Then, satisfied as to this, he quietly mounted it till he
could insert his hand into the aperture. After a moment or two he
called to Elwood and Templemore to assist in steadying the ladder; and,
when they had come to the assistance of Matava and another Indian who
was with him, Monella leaned over into the opening and, exerting all
his great strength, pushed away the stone that was closing it, exposing
to view a cavern beyond. After a brief look inside, he asked for a
lighted lantern and a long stick, and, while these were being handed
up, the expectations and curiosity of his companions became excited
to a lively degree. The Indians, who had been amusing themselves in
the water, came crowding round, half pleased, half afraid at this
unexpected development of events.
"You're never going to venture into that place?" Templemore asked. "It
may be full of deadly serpents. For Heaven's sake do not be rash enough
to risk it. Send one of the Indians----"
Monella replied with a look--a look that Jack remembered for many a day
after. His eyes simply flashed; and then he said quickly,
"Did you ever know me bid another go where I would not venture myself?"
Then he took the lighted lantern, swung it into the cavern at the end
of the stick, and, having satisfied himself that the air within was
not foul, he threw the stick in first and followed, himself, into the
semi-darkness.
A minute after, his head and shoulders re-appeared, just when Jack was
half way up the ladder to follow him.
"Wait a few minutes before you come up," he asked him. "I just want to
give a glance round, and there is but one lantern. Or--well--suppose
you come up and wait inside. But tell the others to keep to the bottom
of the ladder, and be ready to hold it in case we should wish to beat a
hasty retreat."
This seemed prudent counsel, and was carried out. When Jack got off
the ladder into the opening, he was told to jump down inside; and he
found there a level rocky floor about three feet below the aperture,
which had thus a resemblance to a veritable window. By the dim light it
gave he could see that he was in a cavern of considerable height and
extent, and Monella, with his lantern, disappearing through an arched
opening at some distance that seemed to lead to another cave within. He
had brought with him his double-barrel, one barrel loaded with small
shot, the other with ball, and he gave a look at the revolver in his
belt while he stood waiting at the entrance and gazing curiously about
him. He saw that a small stream of water ran through one side of the
cave; there were, in fact, two streams, for one ran in a ledge at some
distance from the ground; but when it came to the opening they had
come through, it fell to the floor and joined the other stream, the
whole finding its way out through a fissure in the rock and running
down outside, as has been before described. Now the stone slab that
had closed the 'window,' as Jack called the opening, had rested on a
continuation of what may be termed the sill, and, on being pushed, had
rolled off. It was a thin slab, roughly circular in shape; not unlike
what one might suppose a millstone to be in the rough. Jack regarded it
with close attention, almost indeed with awe; it spoke so plainly of
human beings having inhabited the place, or, at least, of their having
fashioned this method of closing the entrance to the cave. How long ago
had they been there? And, when they went away, why had they closed the
entrance so carefully?
Monella seemed a long time away; so long that Jack at last began to
think of starting to look for him--they had already sent for another
lantern in case it should be required--when he heard his footsteps in
the distance, and shortly afterwards saw the gleam from his lantern.
When he came closer, Jack scanned his face keenly, but, as usual, read
nothing there.
"You can call Elwood," said Monella, "and I will take you to where
I have been. You need have no fear; the place is quite free from
reptiles."
When, however, Leonard was called, a difficulty arose; Matava and his
fellows objected very strongly to being left alone outside; but it
also appeared that they objected still more strongly to coming into
the cavern. On no consideration whatever would they enter 'the demons'
den,' as they had already named it. But, since they had to make a
choice, they elected, in the end, to remain outside and wait.
When Elwood was inside and had had a few moments in which to get
accustomed to the obscurity and peer wonderingly about him, Monella
pointed out how the opening had been closed.
"I want you to notice," he observed, "that this stone was _cemented_,
and this little stream of water that has accidentally found its way
round here, has, in the course of time, loosened the cement; else I
could not have pushed the stone away. We should have had to blast it."
"Yes," said Jack; "and it also shows that it was closed _from the
inside_. Whoever last closed it never went out again--at least not by
this entrance. Where then did they go to?"
"That's what we have to see about," returned Monella. "Now, follow me,
and I will show you something that will surprise you."
CHAPTER VII.
THE CANYON WITHIN THE MOUNTAIN.
Monella, with the lantern in his hand, led his two companions through
an arched opening into a second cavern which seemed to be larger and
loftier than the first; and this, in turn, opened into a third, at one
end of which they could see that daylight entered. Monella stopped here
and, lifting the light high in one hand, pointed with the other to
side-openings in the rock.
"They are side-galleries, so to speak," he said, "but do not appear to
be of any great extent. I have been to the end of two or three. They
all seem to be perfectly empty too; not so much as a trace of anything
did I see, save loose pieces of stone here and there, that had, no
doubt, fallen from the roof. Now we will go to the entrance on this
side." And he turned and walked on towards the place where they could
see the glimmering of daylight.
Quite suddenly they turned a corner and saw before them a high archway,
leading out into the open air; and, before the two young men had had
time to express surprise, they had stepped out of the gloomy cavern
into a valley, where they stood and stared in helpless astonishment
upon a scene that was as lovely and enchanting as it was utterly
unexpected.
They saw before them the bottom of a valley, or canyon, of about half
a mile in length, and nearly a quarter of a mile in width; its floor,
if one may use the expression, consisted chiefly of fine sand of a warm
tawny hue; its sides, of rocks of white or pinkish white fine-grained
sandstone, with here and there veins, two or three feet wide, of some
metallic-looking material that glistened in the sunlight like masses
of gold and silver. In other places were veins of jasper, porphyry,
or some analogous rock, that sparkled and flashed as though embedded
with diamonds; other parts again were dark-coloured, like black marble,
throwing up in strong relief the ferns and flowers that grew in front
of them.
At the further end of the valley a waterfall tumbled and foamed in
the rays of the sun which, being now almost overhead, threw its beams
along the whole length of the canyon. The stream that flowed below the
fall widened out into clear pools here and there, fringed by stretches
of velvety sward of a vivid green. The water of this stream was of a
wonderful turquoise-blue tint, different from anything, Templemore
thought, that he had ever seen before; and he and Elwood gazed with
admiration at its inviting pellucid pools. But most extraordinary of
all were the flowers that nearly everywhere were to be seen. In shape,
in brilliancy of colouring, and in many other respects, they differed
entirely from even the rare and wonderful orchids and other blossoms
they had come across in the vicinity of Roraima. Of trees there were
not many, though a few were dotted about here and there by the side of
the river; and, in places, graceful palms grew out of the rocky slopes
at the sides and leaned over, somewhat after the fashion of gigantic
ferns. Though the valley was so shut in, and the heat in the sun very
great, yet the amount of green vegetation on all sides, the blue
water, and the light-coloured, cool-looking rocks, made up a scene
that was gratefully refreshing after the gloom of the forest scenes to
which the explorers had been so long accustomed. Moreover, by stepping
back into the cool air of the cavern, they could look out upon it all
without experiencing the drawback of the intense heat.
Elwood was in ecstasies. The triumphant light in his eyes, when he
turned round and looked at his friend, was a thing to see.
"You confounded, wretched old grumbler," he exclaimed, "what have you
to say now? Is not _this_ worth coming for? Or is it that even _this_
will not suit you? Perhaps it is all too bright, the water too blue,
the flowers too highly coloured, or"--here a most delicious scent was
wafted across from some of the flowers--"they are perfumed too highly
to please you! You haven't found fault with anything yet, and we have
been here nearly five minutes!"
Jack laughed; and Leonard noticed that it was more like his old, easy,
good-natured laugh.
"I think you are too severe upon me, Leonard," he replied. "Don't you
think so, Monella?"
Monella, the while, had been standing gazing on the scene like one in a
dream. More than once he passed his hand across his eyes in a confused
way, as though to make sure he was awake. When thus addressed, however,
he seemed to rouse himself, and, without noticing the bantering
question that had been addressed to him, and, extending one hand slowly
towards the valley that lay before them, said,
"I praise Heaven that I have been led, after many days, to the land
that I have seen in my visions. _Now_ do I begin to understand why they
were sent. And you too, my son," he added, looking at Leonard, "you
have had your visions and your dreams. Tell me, does this not remind
you of them?"
[Illustration: "A SCENE THAT WAS GRATEFULLY REFRESHING."
[_Page 72._]
"Indeed it does," returned Leonard seriously. "Though, till you spoke
of it, I had not thought of it. I felt so glad to think we had been
successful so far, and that your expectations were being justified. It
is all very strange."
"I am out of all that," observed Jack, with a comical mixture of
offended dignity and good-natured condescension. "You dreamers of
dreams have the best of such beings as I am. _You_ are led on by
visions of what is in store for you, as it would seem, while _I_ have
to work in the dark, and follow others blindly, and----"
"And think of nothing but how best you can serve and protect your
friends," said Monella, looking at him with a kindly smile. "We are
not all alike, my friend. It is not given to all to 'dream dreams,'
any more than it is given to all to have true manly courage combined
with almost womanly affection for those they call their friends. We
three have little to boast of as between one another, I fancy. Would
it were so more often where three friends are found grouped together
or associated in any undertaking. But now to consider what is next
to be done. It seems to me we could not have a better place for our
head-quarters in our future explorations than this cavern. Here we
have all we want: shelter from rain, and sun, water--pretty well all
we could ask for. We must see about getting our things along here." He
paused for a moment and then continued, "On second thoughts I see no
reason why you should not remain here. There is no more baggage than
the Indians can carry amongst them, and that is all we have to trouble
about. I will go back, and you two stay here."
"That seems scarcely fair," Jack protested. "I have been lazy all the
morning. I propose I go and leave you here."
Monella shook his head.
"You cannot manage the Indians as I can," he answered. "Indeed, that is
one reason why I think you would do better to remain here. When they
find you do not return, and that they have to obey me or remain in the
forest alone, they are more likely to do what we require. But I will
ask you not to go far away, and not to fire off a gun or anything,
unless in case of actual danger and necessity."
"You do not believe that the place is inhabited?" Jack exclaimed in
surprise.
"Who can tell?" was the only reply, as Monella took up the lantern and
turned away.
Left to themselves, Jack pulled out his inevitable pipe, the while that
Elwood sought, and brought in, a couple of short logs from a fallen
tree to serve as seats; and the two then sat down in the shade of the
cavern-entrance.
Jack was very thoughtful; but his thoughtfulness now was of a different
kind from his late moody silence. He, indeed, was ruminating deeply
upon Monella, who was every day--every hour almost--becoming a greater
mystery to him. He had been particularly struck with his manner and
the expression of his face when they had stood together, looking out
upon that curious scene. In Monella's _words_ there had not been much
perhaps, but in other respects he had strangely impressed the usually
unimpressionable Templemore. There had been in his features a sort of
exaltation, a light and fire as of one actuated by a great and lofty
purpose, so entirely opposed to the idea that his end and aim were
connected with gold-seeking, that Jack Templemore confessed himself
more puzzled with him than he had ever been before. Too often, as he
reflected, when a man sets his mind, at the time of life Monella might
be supposed to have reached, upon gold-seeking, he is actuated by sheer
greed and covetousness. But by no single look or action whatever had
Monella ever conveyed a suggestion that the lust of gold was in his
breast. Yet, if that were not so, what was his object? Did he seek
fame--the fame of being a great discoverer? Scarcely. Again and again
he had declared, on the one hand, his contempt for and weariness of
the world in general, and, on the other, his fixed intention never to
return to civilised life. Jack began to suspect that all his talk about
the wealth to be gained from their enterprise had been chiefly designed
to secure their aid, and that for himself it had no weight--offered no
incentive. What, then, _was_ Monella's secret aim or object? What was
the hidden expectation or hope, or belief, or whatever it was, that
had led him into an undertaking that had appeared almost a chimera;
that had so taken possession of his mind as to have become almost a
religion with him; that had enabled him to support fatigue and physical
exertion, privation, hunger and thirst, as probably could few other
men on the face of the earth; and that had become such an article of
faith--had made him such a firm believer in his own destiny, that no
danger seemed to have any meaning for him? Neither storm nor flood,
lightning nor tempest, savage beasts nor deadly serpents--none of
the dangers or risks that the bravest men acknowledged, even if they
faced them, seemed to have existence so far as this strange man showed
any consciousness of them. Never had they known him to step aside
one foot, to pause or hesitate one moment, to avoid any of them. He
simply went his way in supreme contempt of them all; and, until quite
lately--till within the hour almost--Jack had attributed all this
either to madness, or to an inordinate thirst for riches for riches'
sake--which, as he reflected, would be, in itself, a sort of madness.
Now, however, his opinion was altering. The liking he had all along
felt was changing to surprised admiration. He remembered the calm,
unwavering confidence with which Monella had led them through all
their seemingly interminable difficulties and discouragements to their
present success--for success he felt it was, in one sense, if not in
another. In the strange flowers and plants before them, alone, there
were fame and fortune, and what might there not be yet beyond, now that
they had in very truth penetrated into that mysterious mountain that
had so long defied and baffled all would-be explorers? Monella, he
still felt, might be a bit mad--a dreamer or a mystic--but, evidently,
he was a man of great and strange resources. Few engineers, as Jack
himself knew, could have led them thus straight to their goal from
the data he had had to work upon. Yet he showed now neither elation
nor surprise, and in particular, as Jack confessed to himself rather
shamefacedly, no disposition to remind him of his many exhibitions
of contemptuous unbelief. With these thoughts in his mind, and the
remembrance of Monella's unvarying kindness of manner--to say nothing
of the way he had exposed himself to danger on his behalf--Templemore
began to understand better than he ever had before the affection that
the warm-hearted Leonard entertained for their strange friend, and
he became conscious that a similar feeling was fast rooting itself
in his own heart. In fact Monella was now, at last, exercising over
the practical-minded Templemore that mysterious fascination and magic
charm that had made the Indians his devoted slaves, and Leonard his
unquestioning admirer and disciple.
Presently, Leonard, who had fallen into one of his daydreams, woke up
with a slight start and exclaimed,
"What a paradise!"
Jack smiled, and said, "I wonder whether it is a paradise without a
serpent, as it is without an Eve? But your dreams, Leonard, if I
remember, were mixed up with a comely damsel; and there is none here. I
fear we shall have to regard her as the part that goes by contraries,
as they say."
Leonard looked hard at him, and there was evident disappointment in his
glance and tone when he asked,
"Do you then think this place is uninhabited?"
"I do," was the reply. "And I will tell you why. That stone that closed
the entrance from the forest was placed there by some one, no doubt,
and by some one inside. Yes; but how long ago? A very long time!
Hundreds of years, I should say. It has taken quite that time for that
stream of water to hollow out the little channel in the rocky side of
the cave and play upon the cement until it has become loosened. The
wood outside tells the same tale. It must be hundreds of years since
any human beings made their way to and fro through the wood, to or
from this place. _Once_ there were many people here; and they were
not ordinary people either, I can tell you. Not Indians, I mean, for
instance. They were clever workers in stone. That 'window,' as I call
it, through which we came in, is artificial."
Elwood gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Yes; I noticed it, though you did not. I have little doubt that
Monella noticed it too. The cavern was formerly all open, or, at
least, it had a large opening, and I am almost certain its floor was
originally level with the ground outside. If so, the present floor
is artificial, and there are probably vaults beneath. Outside, the
stonework is so artfully done that you see no trace of it; it appears
to be all solid rock; but inside I saw distinctly traces of the joints.
Then, look at these archways, at the one we are now sitting under! They
have been worked upon too--to enlarge them, probably; to give more
head-room when the floor was made higher. See! here are marks of the
chisel!" And Templemore got up and pointed to many places where the
marks left by the tool were clearly to be seen.
"Well," said Elwood, "I suppose we shall solve the problem and set all
doubts at rest before many days are over. For my part I am in a curious
state of mind about it--half impatient, half the reverse. If it is to
turn out as you say, I am in no hurry to terminate the uncertainty.
This strange spot, the fact that we are really, at last, inside the
wonderful mountain--these things open such a vista of marvellous
possibilities that I--it seems to me--I would rather, you know----"
"Oh, yes, I know, you old dreamer," Jack exclaimed, laughing. "You
would rather wait and have time to dream on for a while than have your
dreams rudely dispelled by hard facts. Now suppose we go and take a
look round in the shade over there. We need not go out of sight of this
entrance; so that Monella will find us immediately he returns."
The sun had now moved so far over that one side of the valley was
lying in shadow, and they strolled out to observe more closely the new
flowers and plants they had thus far seen only from a distance.
CHAPTER VIII.
ALONE ON RORAIMA'S SUMMIT.
When Monella returned about two hours later, the two young men had much
to tell him of the wonderful flowers and plants they had found, of
strange fish in the water, and curious _perfumed_ butterflies that they
had mistaken for flowers.
There were many of these extraordinary insects flying about. In
colouring and shape they resembled some of the flowers; when resting
upon a spray or twig they looked exactly like blossoms, and upon
nearing them, one became conscious of a most exquisite scent. But just
when one leaned a little nearer to smell the supposed flower, it would
flutter quickly away, and insect and perfume disappeared altogether.
Many of the flowers that were scattered about the rocks were shaped
like exquisitely moulded wax bells of all sorts and kinds of colours
and patterns, white, red, yellow, blue, etc., striped, spotted,
speckled. So distinct were they from anything the explorers had before
seen, that they had picked some and brought them into the cavern to
show Monella; but he could not give them a name.
The stream from the waterfall, they found, disappeared into the ground
just before it reached the cavern. No doubt this was the stream they
had seen issuing from the rock upon the other side.
At the further end the valley began to rise, following the stream,
which came down in a series of small falls or cataracts. About this
part they had found some other caves; but had not entered them.
"And most remarkable of all," said Templemore, "we have not seen a
single snake, lizard, or reptile of any sort or kind. Yet this is just
the sort of place one would have expected to be full of them. Nor have
we seen either animals or birds."
Monella told them the Indians still refused to enter the cave. They
all three, therefore, went to the 'window,' and assisted to get their
camp equipage inside, the Indians bringing the things to the top of
the ladder and handing them through the opening. They preferred,
themselves, to camp outside, and had already made a fire to cook some
monkeys they had killed with bows and arrows.
When all their things were safe inside, Leonard and Jack took some
fishing nets and soon caught some fish in the pools of the stream in
the canyon. They then made a fire just outside the cavern entrance, and
cooked them for their evening meal. The fish seemed to be a kind of
trout, but of a species they had never seen before.
Monella expressed his regret that all attempts to persuade the Indians
out of their fear of 'the demon-haunted mountain' had failed.
"They will neither come inside nor remain outside by themselves;
that is, if we go away from here to explore farther. It seems to me,
therefore, that we ought to have all our stores brought here before we
start, and then let the Indians go back by themselves. We may be here
for months, so had better get them to fetch everything we can possibly
require from 'Monella Lodge.'"
Such was Monella's advice.
"It will take two or three days at least--possibly more," he continued,
"to transport all our stores here. During that time we must be content
to attend to nothing else, and postpone any further exploration of the
mountain. Besides, when we once start, none can tell how far we may be
led on. Better have our 'base of operations' settled and secure first.
How far away are those other caves that you saw?"
"About a quarter of a mile," Jack answered.
"We will have a look at them in the morning," Monella said
thoughtfully. "It may be wiser to hide some of our stores and
belongings in different places, so that, if any accident should happen
to one lot, the others may be all right. Eh, Templemore?"
"Just the very idea I had in my head when I spoke to you of those other
caves," Jack responded. "We can take half an hour or so to explore them
in the morning."
"Better take longer," observed Monella. "Better take the day, and do it
thoroughly. Much may depend upon it hereafter. Suppose, therefore, that
you remain here while Elwood and I return to 'Monella Lodge' and see
about packing and bringing some of the 'belongings'? Then, if we find
another journey necessary, you can go next time, and Elwood and I will
remain here on guard. But we cannot get back to-morrow night. Do you
mind staying here alone?"
"Not I!" said Jack, laughing.
"Very well then; we will arrange it so. We shall load up our two
animals, and perhaps one journey will suffice after all. Any way, you
hunt for the best and most secret hiding-places you can find. See that
they are dry, you know. There are the three casks of powder----"
"What! Will you bring them too?"
"Certainly. We may have blasting to do before we have done with what
we have in hand. The extra arms, too, we will divide, and secrete in
different places."
"I see the idea," Jack assented. "Rely on me to do the best that can be
done."
The three went back, after their meal, to where the Indians were
camping just outside the 'window.' Matava looked grave, and shook his
head dubiously, when Leonard told him of the arrangements come to.
"My heart is heavy, my master," he said in his own language, "at the
thought of leaving you to fight the demons of the mountain. It is
not good this thing that you are about to undertake. Doubtless the
demons have left this place open as a trap to tempt you to enter their
country. When you are well inside they will close it and have you
securely captured and we shall never see you more. Alas! that my mother
should ever have said aught to lead you on to this terrible enterprise.
Better had she died first. I feel sure, if you go inside there, we
shall never see you again!"
Elwood only smiled, and bid him be of good cheer.
"We shall return," he replied, "and, I trust, not empty-handed. And, if
so, you and my old nurse shall share in my good fortune. But, if you
think there is danger, why do you not come with us to help? It is not
like a brave Indian to be afraid!"
The Indian shook his head and sighed.
"Matava is no coward," he responded. "His master knows that well.
Against all earthly dangers Matava will help him to his last breath,
but to battle with the demons of Roraima is but madness--and it is
useless. No mortal man may brave them and live. _Some_ one must take
the tale to those left behind. It is not good that they should never
know."
"That is a nice way of getting out of it, Matava," said Templemore,
who had just come up and heard the last sentence. "But please don't
take intelligence of our fate till you have learned it. Above all," he
continued seriously, "do not alarm our friends in Georgetown by any
wild, preposterous----"
"Oh, don't trouble as to that," Elwood interrupted. "Our friends know
Matava and his superstitions about the mountain too well by this time.
Besides, we will leave letters with him, to deliver, in case he returns
before we get back."
It was now getting dark, and the three white men went back into the
cavern to prepare their sleeping arrangements. First, it was determined
to make a more thorough examination of the side-galleries, and this was
soon done, for they were found to be of very limited extent. In passing
the archway that led into the canyon, however, Leonard happened to
glance out, and uttered an exclamation which called the others to his
side. They also looked out into the valley, and were as much astonished
as at their first sight of it that morning. It seemed to be lighted up!
On all sides, high and low, small lights were seen. They were of
various colours, and hung, some singly, some in groups or clusters.
Many drooped over the water, and were reflected in the pools below. The
effect was extraordinary. The place seemed a veritable fairy land; and
exclamations of astonishment and admiration burst from each of them
while he stood and gazed upon the scene.
Then they went out to the nearest lights, and the marvel was explained.
The bell-shaped flowers that had excited their curiosity during the
afternoon all glowed with radiance. Inside each was a small projection
apparently of a fungoid character, that was phosphorescent. It sent
forth a light nearly as brilliant as that of a firefly; and this
illumined the bell-shaped blossom, which then appeared of different
hues according to its colouring by daylight. Even those that Elwood
had picked, and thrown down at the entrance of the cavern, glowed with
appreciable glimmer.
"I've heard of some kinds of toadstools and fungi being
phosphorescent," Templemore remarked, "but never of such a thing in
flowers."
"Yet," observed Monella, "if you come to consider the matter, there is
nothing more remarkable in the one case than in the other."
The night passed without incident, and all were astir before dawn,
making preparations for the day's work. After a light meal, all
except Templemore set out on their way to 'Monella Lodge,' while Jack
went out into the canyon to seek for caves and likely hiding-places
for their stores, and to look about generally. He took with him his
usual two-barrelled gun, a supply of cartridges, and some biscuits
and other provisions. Water he knew he could get in plenty. He also
took a lantern to enable him to explore the caves. Before leaving the
'window,' as he now always called the entrance by which they had found
their way into the first cavern, he drew up the ladder, and then, with
some difficulty, rolled the stone that had closed it into its place
again. Most likely he could not have given any reason for this action
if he had been asked; but probably a vague hatred of the gloomy forest,
and satisfaction in shutting it out of view, were what chiefly prompted
him.
"I will take all I want round to the other side," he said to himself.
"I like that side best. It's a more cheerful outlook."
He thoroughly explored the caves, and decided that they were fairly
suitable for the purpose they had in view. Then, quite accidentally,
he came upon another that was so hidden by a tangled mass of creepers
that its existence would never have been suspected. He fancied he had
seen a small animal disappear behind a bush, and trying with a stick
to see whether he could rout it out, he found what at first he thought
was a large hole; but, on pushing back the creepers, which hung like a
curtain across it, he found a large opening about eight or nine feet
high. Inside was a roomy cavern with many recesses here and there, like
high shelves in the rock, and many short side-galleries. Just the very
place they wanted, he decided. Neither here nor elsewhere did he meet
with any signs of his pet aversion--the serpent tribe.
He now began the ascent of the canyon, following always the course
of the stream that came down it. In some places the way was easy and
direct; indeed, as he could not but remark, there was every appearance
that a well-defined, wide pathway, with steps here and there, had at
one time existed. But in places it was broken away; the steps cut in
the rock had crumbled, or trees growing in the fissures had rent them
asunder. In other places masses of rock, fallen from heights above,
blocked the road; and, occasionally, the trunk of a fallen tree. Then
he came to a wayside cave, and was glad to rest in its shade from
the heat of the sun, which began to pour down into the canyon with
intolerable fierceness. He had proceeded so far that he imagined he
must be half way to the top; and he looked up the canyon still beyond
him and at the overhanging cliffs with curiosity, wondering how much
farther he would have to go to reach its head, and what he would see
when he arrived there.
While he sat quietly pondering this question, and enjoying a smoke
following upon a light lunch, the idea grew upon him to complete
the ascent that afternoon. He knew that, if he did so, it would be
impossible to return that night, and this meant passing it in the open
air. But that he did not at all mind; he was accustomed to it; and,
since he saw no signs of serpents anywhere, there was an absence of the
only thing that troubled him in such case. Monella and the others would
not return till the following evening; he had plenty of time to do it
in, and nothing else to occupy his time.
But would Monella like it? Why, however, should he object? He could do
no harm in going to the top and back. It was not as though the place
were inhabited and he might get involved in any adventures with the
'natives.'
The more he thus thought about it, the more strongly did the feeling
grow upon him to make the venture. True, he had not much with him in
the way of provisions; but he had enough for supper and breakfast if he
put himself upon short rations. In the end he resolved to risk it.
Accordingly, so soon as the sun had gone across sufficiently to shade
the path, he started off once more, and made his way still upwards. He
encountered many obstacles that delayed his journey, but eventually,
just when night was falling, he arrived at what he calculated must be
the top of the ascent. It was a grassy plateau of a few hundred yards
in extent, facing cliffs that rose still higher and shut out the view
and were inaccessible. Down these the stream still flowed, though much
smaller in volume than was the case below. What, however, caused him
dismay, was to find that he was shut in on the other side by a belt
of forest that seemed to be almost as dense and impenetrable as the
hated wood below. It was too late to think of going back; there he must
stay and pass the night. It was cold, too, up there, and he had no
rug in which to roll himself. In fact, he began to wish himself back
in the cavern, where he could have cooked himself a good supper and
then rested comfortably. There was not even a view; he had hoped to
have a glorious prospect and, having brought his field-glass, even that
he might be able to look across the forest and savanna and make out
'Monella Lodge'; possibly see his friends, who would now be nearing it.
Instead of that, he was shut in upon a narrow ledge beside an unknown
forest that might be full of wild animals of a dangerous kind.
Altogether Jack felt he had not acted wisely. He went a little way into
the wood; but, finding it very dense, and fearful of losing his way in
its dark recesses, he soon returned to the clearing. Finally, as it
grew dark, being tired and drowsy after his exertions in climbing the
canyon, he fell asleep.
CHAPTER IX.
VISION OR REALITY?
The following afternoon, a long train of Indians, with Monella and
Elwood at its head, was making its way slowly along the tunnel-like
road that had been cut through the heart of Roraima Forest. They all
carried loads, and they had with them, besides, Monella's two llamas,
which were also loaded with as much as they could carry. All looked
more or less wearied from their long march, and cast many anxious
glances ahead as they approached the end of their journey. When they
reached the part where the path opened and the trees became thinner,
Matava fired two shots, the agreed-on signal to Templemore; they were
answered at once by one from him, and, shortly afterwards, he was seen
making his way towards them. He relieved Elwood of a few things he was
carrying, and inquired whether they brought any news.
"None," said Elwood; "and you?"
"First of all," returned Jack, "here's a very curious and awkward
thing. I have come across a large _puma_ that has taken a great fancy
to me, and has become somewhat of a 'white elephant.' At the present
moment it is looking out of window, anxiously awaiting my return; and,
though it has not yet learned to scramble down the ladder, I'm not at
all sure it won't acquire that accomplishment shortly--or it may even
risk the leap down. What I am thinking of is the animals you have with
you--they might tempt it; otherwise, it seems tame and good-natured
enough, and I do not think it will hurt either you or the Indians."
"Does it seem like an animal that has been tamed, then?" asked Monella.
"And where did you come across it? Inside, I suppose?"
"Why, yes. But I'll tell you later. Meantime, can't we halt the animals
here, and keep them out of sight for awhile? My new friend is as big
as a lioness, and of the same sex--and would have one of them down in
a moment, if she felt so inclined. You can't tie her up, you know,
without a collar and chain, even if one cared to make the attempt. I
tried to drive her away, but it was of no use; and I've been sitting
there racking my brains as to what on earth I was to do when you came,
and hoping against hope that the beast would take herself off." And
Jack looked the picture of comical perplexity and bewilderment.
Meantime, the train had come to a halt, and Matava and the other
Indians crowded round Templemore and examined him with great curiosity
and attention. There were many strange Indians who had been induced,
for a consideration, to accompany the party, and these were equally
inquisitive. Some came and touched him, as though to make sure he
was real flesh and blood. Since Jack seemed inclined to resent this,
Leonard laughingly explained.
"They can scarcely believe that any man can have passed a night in the
mountain and live to tell the tale," Elwood told Templemore. "Their
idea is that you have been eaten up or captured by the 'demons,' who
have sent back a ghostly presentment of their victim to lead on the
others. So they are anxious to know whether it is really yourself or
a spectral imitation. You may be sure, too, your 'lioness' will be a
matter of serious speculation to them. She will be looked upon as a
familiar spirit, to a certainty."
Monella had said little; but he now proposed to go on to the cave at
once with Jack and Elwood, to see how matters really stood, leaving the
others to await their return.
On nearing the 'window' they saw, sure enough, the head and paws of an
immense tawny-coloured animal that gave a cry--a sort of half-whine,
half-roar--of recognition on seeing Jack. The ladder was lying on the
ground outside.
"There you are," he observed with a mixture of mock gravity and real
anxiety; and he waved his hand towards the animal. "Let me introduce
you to the 'Lady of the Mountain.' I only hope to goodness she will
behave herself and receive you in a friendly manner; for, if not, _I_
have no control over her. I disclaim all responsibility."
Monella and Elwood looked curiously at what they could see of the
animal. It seemed, as Jack had said, nearly as large as a lioness.
"It is a puma," said Monella decidedly, "though a very large one. I
never saw one anything near the size. However, there is no need to be
afraid of it; you have heard me say you need never fear a puma."
"Yes," returned Jack, "and here is an opportunity of testing your
faith in your own theory. I confess, if I did not already know she was
well-disposed towards myself, I should think twice before I ventured
upon going near her."
"Nonsense!" said Monella, taking up the ladder and placing it against
the opening. "I will show you the creature is tame and friendly enough.
I could see it at the first glance." And he ascended the ladder and
entered the cavern, pushing the puma on one side as coolly as if it
were a pet dog. Then he turned and called to Elwood to follow.
Jack also went after them, and found the puma already on friendly terms
with both, much to his own relief; for he had had misgivings.
"The question now is what about the llamas?" he next said. "Do you
think she is to be trusted there--and with the Indians?"
"With the Indians--yes--though _they_ probably would object," replied
Monella; "but, with the llamas, it is doubtful. So we had best be on
the safe side, and keep them, if possible, out of her sight."
"She's wonderfully playful," observed Jack; "just like a great kitten.
I've been playing with her with my lasso, and she will run about after
it by the hour together, just for all the world like a kitten. If you
want to keep her out of the way on the other side, all that need be
done is for one of us to stay there and play with her."
"Let Elwood do so then," Monella decided. "He is tired; and you can
come and help unload."
The animal had, in fact, already begun to show a liking for Leonard,
and, when he went out towards the canyon, it followed him at once. Jack
watched this with some surprise, and affected much disgust.
"Just like the generality of females," he remarked, "inconstant and
changeable. Here have I been at the trouble of capturing the beast, and
being worried with her all day, only to see her transfer her affections
and allegiance to some one else at the very first opportunity!"
The unloading was then proceeded with, and before dark everything they
had brought was placed within the cavern temporarily, to be moved on to
other places, as might subsequently be determined.
When all had been brought in, the Indians set to work to cook their
evening meal, while Jack did the same outside the canyon entrance.
The hunters had shot an antelope, and with some of this and some fish
a satisfying meal was provided; the puma lying down and watching
the proceedings with evident curiosity, but with no more attempt at
interference or stealing than in the case of a well-trained dog.
Needless to say she was rewarded for her patience with a share.
When the meal was over, and Jack and Leonard took out their pipes,
Monella, looking at the former, said,--
"You have something of importance to tell us. What have you seen?"
At this Elwood turned and regarded Jack with surprise.
"Why, what is it?" he exclaimed. "You have said nothing about it all
this time!"
Jack looked a little sheepish. He was somewhat taken aback, too, by
Monella's direct question. It brought to his mind the query that had
often arisen before--could this strange being read his thoughts?
"I scarcely know whether I have seen something or only dreamed it," he
began hesitatingly; and seeing Leonard, at this, open his eyes, Jack
went on desperately: "Well, yes! I may as well out with it and make a
clean breast of it! I _have_ something to tell you, and for the life of
me, I cannot make up my mind whether I actually _saw_ it, or dreamed
it--whether, in short, it was reality, or only a vision!"
Leonard opened his eyes wider than ever, and gave a long whistle.
"_You_ having 'visions'!" he exclaimed in unbounded astonishment.
"_You_, the scoffer, the hard-headed, prosaic-minded derider of dreams
and visions! Great Scott! Is the world then coming to an end? Or have
the demons of the mountain in truth bewitched you as Matava declared
they would?"
"Ah! I knew you would laugh at me, of course. And I feel I deserve it.
However, if you want to hear what I have to tell, you will have to keep
quiet a bit. I cannot explain while you are talking, you know."
"I'll not say another word; I'm 'mum,' but amazed!" Elwood answered.
"Now go a-head."
"Well, yesterday, after you left, I pulled up the ladder and carefully
closed the 'window' by rolling the stone back into the place, as we
first found it. I thought to myself I would shut out the gloomy forest.
Then I went up the canyon to explore the caves we spoke of, and soon,
by accident, found a new one, so curiously hidden from sight, that
it seemed the very thing we wanted; so there was no need to search
farther. Then I thought I would stroll up the canyon a bit, and
reconnoitre; and I found another cave about half way up, and, finding
the sun getting warm, went in and had a rest. When it grew shady again,
I thought, instead of coming back, I would go on to the top to see the
view."
Monella uttered an exclamation.
"Ah! yes. I know you mean I ought to have kept below. However, no harm
has been done, and I could see no objection to going up and taking a
peep from the top. I had my glasses with me and thought I might even
catch a glimpse of you on your way to 'Monella Lodge.' However, by the
time I reached the top it was getting dusk, and, after all, I found
myself quite shut in by yet higher rocks on one side that I could not
climb, and a thick wood on the other. There was a grassy knoll of a few
hundred square yards in extent, and there I had to make up my mind to
pass the night. I was tired out; and, soon after it grew dark, I fell
asleep."
Templemore paused, and glanced doubtfully at Monella, as if expecting
him to say something; but he remained silent, and Jack proceeded:--
"I seemed to wake up after being asleep for an hour or two. I say
_seemed_ to wake up--I really cannot say--but either that, or I dreamed
the whole thing. Well, I seemed to wake up, and fancied I heard distant
shouts. I looked sleepily round and was surprised and alarmed to see
a very unmistakable glow in the sky through the trees. It struck me
at once that the forest must be on fire, and if so, I thought, my
position might be an awkward one. If the wood were burning, and the
fire travelling in the direction of where I was, to have to retreat
down the canyon in the dark would be anything but agreeable. After
some consideration I decided to venture a little way into the wood,
and climb a tree in the hope of getting a view of what was going on. I
could hardly, I reflected, lose my way, for, when I wished to return,
I should only have to turn my back on the direction in which the fire
lay and march straight back. Accordingly, I made my way into the wood;
at first it was very dense, but soon it grew thinner, and, encouraged
by this, I went straight on, when I emerged on to a high plateau, where
an extraordinary sight presented itself. I seemed to be on the edge of
an extensive sort of basin; I could see for miles; and in the centre,
as it appeared, there was a broad lake, and beside the lake were lofty
buildings lighted up on all sides, the lights being reflected in the
water. There seemed to me a large city; there were buildings that
looked like grand palaces; there were wide noble-looking embankments
and promenades and bridges, all well lighted; and, on the lake, boats,
also lighted, were going to and fro, filled with people. I could hear
shouts and cries, though of what nature it was impossible to say; and
through my glasses I could plainly distinguish numbers of people moving
about. It was as though some kind of _fête_ were going on. The large
buildings towered into the air, and their cupolas and turrets glistened
as though built of gold and silver. In effect, it was a wonderful
sight, and how long I stood watching it I cannot say; but, after a
time, the lights went down and all became silent and dark. I managed to
find my way back to my camping ground, and, while thinking it all over
in astonished wonder, I fell asleep again, as I suppose. At any rate,
when I finally awoke, the sun was shining and this animal was lying on
the grass by my side."
"What! the puma?" Leonard asked.
"Yes. I was rather upset at first sight of her, you may be sure. To
wake and find oneself in a wild place at the mercy of a great animal
like that is a startler for any one's nerves, I can assure you. No
chance to use one's rifle or anything, you know. However, while I lay
very still and watched it, not knowing what to do, I saw it must be
a puma, though an unusually large one. Then I thought of what you,
Monella, had told us--that we need never be afraid of a puma. And then
the beast turned round and began licking my hand! It stood up, too, and
purred, and put up its tail just like a tame cat; so I made friends
with it and found it was quite disposed to be on good terms. After a
bit my dream came back to me, and I went into the wood some distance,
but could see nothing. The forest seemed awfully thick, and to get
denser at every step; so I finally came away, thinking I must either
have had a remarkably vivid dream or vision, or that I had really been
the sport of some demons of the mountain such as Matava and his Indian
friends so thoroughly believe in." And Jack paused, and looked at his
two companions with an odd mixture of doubt and bewilderment.
Elwood's face, while he had been listening, had become lighted up with
sympathetic enthusiasm. It fell a little at the end of the recital,
when Jack made the suggestion about the 'demons.'
"Certainly," he said, "it sounds like witchcraft to hear you, our own
matter-of-fact Jack, who never dreams, make such suggestions. But,
either one way or the other, it goes to prove that there is something
very extraordinary about this mountain."
Elwood looked at Monella.
"What do you think of it all?" he asked.
"I think," he replied, "that our friend ought, in future, to be less
ready to deride those who may have to tell of strange things, whether
dreams and visions, or out-of-the-way experiences."
"I admit that to be a just rebuke," Jack responded with a good-natured
laugh; "but it does not tell us, all the same, what your real opinion
may be." But Monella had already risen from where he had been sitting
and moved away to speak to the Indians.
"I say, Jack," said Leonard, "can't you _really_ say, straight out,
whether you _saw_ this or only dreamed it?"
"Truly, my dear boy, it seemed so natural that I should say it was
real, only for the inherent improbability of the thing. Then, too, I
could see nothing this morning to confirm it, you know."
"Surely," Elwood said dreamily, "the Indian tales of demons that
can bewitch you cannot have any foundation? There cannot be an
unsubstantial city of demons to be seen at night, that vanishes and
becomes only plain forest in the daytime? That is taking us back to the
Arabian Nights, isn't it?"
Jack shook his head.
"I am more bewildered and puzzled than I can possibly give you any idea
of," he returned. "The whole thing is beyond me; the sight I saw, or
dreamed; and then, again, the behaviour of this animal here."
"Ah," Elwood said, "this puma! Does it not behave as though it were a
tame animal used to the company of human beings?"
"I must say that idea has occurred to me more than once to-day; but
the more I think over it, the more hopelessly puzzling the whole thing
becomes." And Templemore, for the time being, gave it up.
CHAPTER X.
IN SIGHT OF EL DORADO.
The next morning Templemore, after leading Monella and Elwood to the
hidden cave he had discovered, set out early with the Indians for
'Monella Lodge' to bring in the remainder of the stores; and, while
there, in the evening, he wrote long letters to his friends, to be
entrusted to Matava to take to Georgetown. Amongst them, we may be
sure, was one to the fair Maud, who, amidst all the excitement of his
adventures, was never long absent from his thoughts. His letter to her
was grave, almost sad in its tone. He knew he was about to set out upon
a critical venture, the end of which none could see, and he warned her
not to be surprised if nothing were heard of them for a long time.
When, the following afternoon, he and his party once more made their
way back through the forest to where they had left Monella and Elwood,
and had halted just out of sight, those two soon came to meet him in
response to the usual signal-shots. The first glance at Elwood's face
told Jack that he had some important news to impart. While Monella
was greeting the Indians and giving directions for the unloading and
camping, Leonard whispered to Jack,
"We've been up to the top and have seen all you saw. It was no dream,
old man, but simple reality. But don't let the Indians hear anything
about it, or they would stampede straight away."
Jack stared in mute surprise, scarce knowing what to think, whether to
be most pleased to have it established that he was not 'a dreamer of
dreams,' or astonished at the almost incredible fact it conveyed--that
the top of the mountain was, in very truth, inhabited.
"And the puma?" he asked.
"Is still with us. You had better go in and have a rest and take charge
of her, while we see to the unloading."
This Jack was glad to do, and, on entering the cavern, he was welcomed
by the animal with every demonstration of gladness at his return.
"Ah! you have not forgotten me then, old girl," he said, and he patted
and stroked the creature. "You're not so very fickle, then, after all.
Now come along with me for a while--I'm going to have a wash."
When all the fresh stores had been placed inside, and the Indians were
engaged upon their evening meal, and Monella and the two young men were
seated at theirs, Jack asked for further details of the wonderful news
Leonard had briefly spoken of.
"It is substantially a repetition of what you told us," said Elwood,
"save that we managed a little better in the morning than you did. That
is to say, we did not go the wrong way into the wood, as I suppose you
did; and thus, at sunrise, sure enough, we saw the wonderful city,
which Monella avers can be no other than Manoa--or, as the Spaniards
called it, El Dorado! We saw its palaces, and towers, and spires,
glistening and glittering in the sun--a marvellous sight! So, Jack, old
boy, you can be at ease; you are not yet 'a dreamer of dreams.'"
"But your intelligence, all the same, makes me feel quite dazed,"
answered Jack. "Are you _really_ sure about it? Are you certain--do you
feel confident that--er--well, that it won't all have melted into thin
air by the time we get up there?"
"Scarcely. It is too substantial for that."
"Then it means this--that the mountain _is_ inhabited after all," said
the puzzled Jack. "If so, what sort of a reception are they likely to
give us?"
"Well, that of course remains to be seen. But, meantime, it is certain
that all your clever theories about the place 'not having been peopled
for hundreds of years' are fallacious."
Jack presently asked Monella what he purposed doing next.
"We must put away our stores," was the reply, "and then arrange our
plans for making our presence known to the inhabitants, whoever they
may be, of the mountain."
"Yes, and then, if they speak the same language that you have been
teaching me," Leonard put in, "Jack will have reason to be sorry he has
not stuck to it a little more, I fancy."
Of late, Jack had practically dropped all efforts in this direction,
particularly during the last fortnight; while Elwood had neglected no
opportunity for using it in his converse with Monella. Elwood had, in
consequence, got so far as to be able to speak it fairly well; but Jack
was much behind him.
"By Jupiter! But I begin to think there is wisdom in what you say," was
Jack's response. "I must do my best to make up for lost time."
The night passed without incident. The Indians stayed on through the
following day, and Matava even yielded so far as to enter the dreaded
cavern, and take a look into the canyon. Elwood managed to persuade
him to do thus much, that he might take back to his friends at
Georgetown a description of the scene. Matava was rather afraid of the
puma, but the animal was quite friendly. The Indian evidently believed
that Elwood and his friends were going to their destruction, and would
never again be seen by mortal eyes. However, at Monella's suggestion,
he made for them during the day a more substantial ladder, which the
nails and tools brought with the stores enabled him easily to do. He
also made some poles or struts to form bars to close the stone from
within, and, with much perseverance, cut slots in the rock and in the
stone to receive them. When completed, and the struts put in their
places, the stone was firmly fixed and could not be moved from the
outside.
Then Monella made another suggestion. He arranged with Matava a few
simple signals that might be made from the mountain-top by flashing
small quantities of powder at night, and that Matava could, in turn,
answer from the plain beyond the forest, or, indeed, from 'Monella
Lodge'. These signals were simply--"All well," "Coming down," "_Not_
coming down." It was deemed best not to risk more than these, Matava's
intelligence in such directions being limited; and, since he could not
read, to write them down would have been useless.
When, on the last morning, the leave-taking came, the scene was an
affecting one. The Indians were well pleased with the rewards given
them for their services; but they were, one and all, in genuine
distress at the thought of leaving the three adventurers to what they
thoroughly believed would be a terrible fate. They even besought them
to alter their minds and "come away from the accursed place"; needless
to say in vain.
Matava, almost in tears, was loaded with messages to those in
Georgetown, should he go back before seeing the travellers again;
the understanding being that, if he found they did not return within
a short time, he was to conclude they would remain for an indefinite
period, in which case he would shut up 'Monella Lodge' and return to
Georgetown, and only expect to hear of them when he came that way again
in the usual course.
At last, the Indians sorrowfully set out and disappeared in the forest,
and Monella and his two companions set to work to distribute their
stores and spare arms and ammunition. It was decided, after some
discussion, to place the larger portion in the secret cave; leaving
only a comparatively small part hidden in the cavern they were in, it
being obvious that the latter was the one most likely to be searched,
if any should be.
In the carrying out of the plan settled by Monella, the whole of the
stores were divided roughly into two parts; two-thirds, and all the
spare arms, ammunition and powder, being hidden in the secret cave;
the other third, including most of their camping equipage, lanterns,
store of oil, etc., but no arms, being stowed away in various remote
parts of the cavern by which they had entered from the outer forest.
This was in accordance with certain anticipations and eventualities
that he had carefully thought out. Thus, if the people of the place
should prove unfriendly, and they were forced to retreat at once to
the entrance cavern, they had there, ready to hand, in addition to the
arms, etc., they took with them, all that was really necessary either
for a temporary stay or for the journey back to 'Monella Lodge.' On the
other hand, if the inhabitants should turn out to be hospitable, and
invite the travellers to stay with them, it might be a little while
before they returned to the cavern at the entrance; in the meanwhile it
might be entered and searched by others, who might carry off what had
been left there. But in that case the loss would not be a serious one
to the explorers, nor would the thieves find any arms or powder.
Early the next morning Elwood went out a little way into the forest
to cut some short poles he was in want of, when the puma--apparently
finding the new ladder more to her taste than the old one had
been--scrambled down after him and disappeared into the wood.
"We had better leave the ladder and go on with our work," observed
Monella, when told she had gone off and not returned. "No doubt she
will find her way back presently."
But they saw nothing of her till the afternoon, when she came in,
bearing in her mouth a good-sized wild pig, which she laid down quietly
at the feet of her astonished friends.
"Why, Puss," exclaimed Jack--he had of late insisted upon giving her
that name--"that _is_ an accomplishment, and no mistake! You can go out
hunting and get your own dinner, can you, and ours too? Well, after
this we need not want for fresh meat, apparently, while we stay here."
The meat was not only a welcome addition to their larder, so far as
they themselves were concerned, but solved the difficulty that had
begun to puzzle them, viz., how to find food for so large an animal.
Up to now there had been enough left over from what the Indians had
captured and brought in; but, since they had gone away, fresh meat had
been growing scarce, and to feed 'Puss' out of their limited stores of
tinned meats was, of course, out of the question.
"You'll have to leave us and go back to your friends, whoever they
are, Puss," Jack had said only that very morning. "We appreciate your
society and all that sort of thing, and shall be sorry to turn you out
of doors; but, unless you can crunch up meat-tins and imagine they are
marrow-bones, I really do not see where another meal for you is to come
from." Whether 'Puss' understood this speech or not, she had certainly
settled the question in her own way, and very quickly.
"You shall go out again, to-morrow, on this sort of expedition, Puss,"
observed Jack. And she did; and next time brought back a small antelope.
This led to a discussion and a good deal of speculation as to whom
'Puss' might actually belong to.
"I wonder who owns her, and whether they have missed her?" said Jack.
"And I wonder too whether there are many more like her on the mountain?
If so, why haven't we seen anything of any of the others?" Since,
however, no answer could be given to these questions, the speculation
remained a barren one.
After the stores had all been disposed of to his satisfaction, Monella
decided to stay on another day before making the venture of showing
themselves to the inhabitants; this was partly by way of a rest and
partly to give them an opportunity of studying the plants and rocks
in the canyon. Most of this day he spent in hunting for strange herbs
and leaves; while Jack and Elwood were more interested, after the
first feeling of surprise and pleasure in examining the flowers had
passed off, in searching for signs of gold among the rocks. They found
undoubted traces of both gold and silver, but in what quantity they
might exist it was not possible at the time to form any opinion.
Every night the canyon was lighted up in the fairy-like manner of
the first evening; and, during the day, two harp-birds had visited
the valley and enlivened it with their dreamy music. The travellers
also caught sight of two or three small animals; but did not obtain
a sufficiently good view to make them out, and Monella particularly
desired that they should not shoot at anything.
Of fish there was plenty; and bathing in the cool, limpid pools of 'The
Blue River,' as Jack had named the stream, was a welcome luxury.
Finally, having completed all their preparations, the three, on the
morning of the third day after the departure of the Indians, set out on
their enterprise of visiting the mysterious inhabitants of "The Golden
City."
They started at daylight, with just sufficient camping things for
passing the one night, heavily laden with spare ammunition, and
taking their Winchester rifles and revolvers, and one extra gun--a
double-barrelled fowling-piece. After a midday rest in the cave that
lay about half way up, they reached the summit, as before, at nightfall.
They assured themselves that the strange town was still in the same
place--had not vanished into thin air as an illusive creation of the
demons of the mountain. Then they settled down to sleep and were
undisturbed during the night.
When they woke at dawn on the day that was to prove so eventful, they
found that the puma had disappeared.
"Puss has deserted us," said Jack. "She knew she was close at home and
preferred the kitchen fireside, I suspect, like a respectable tabby,
to passing the night out here; and small blame to her. I shouldn't be
surprised, if we happen to come across her when she is in the company
of her own friends, to see her pass us by with her nose in the air with
a 'don't-know-you' sort of look. You'll see, she won't know us! she
would lose caste, I expect, if it were known that she had been away for
a week hob-nobbing with a party of houseless vagabonds like ourselves."
CHAPTER XI.
ULAMA, PRINCESS OF MANOA.
The morning broke fine, and the sun rose with a splendour that was not
often seen even in this land of gorgeous sunrises. As Leonard looked
up at the sky above, with its tint of deep sapphire blue flecked
with cloudy flakes, and cirri tinted with gold and pink and crimson,
he thought he had never witnessed any effect to equal it. But, when
they had quietly passed through the narrow belt of wood, and stood
just within its cover, gazing down at the wondrous 'golden city' that
lay sleeping at their feet, the three friends remained silent and
almost spell-bound. The scene was indeed one to which no description
can possibly do justice. The sun was just high enough to light up
the glistening towers and cupolas; and these, and the spangled sky
above, were reflected in the glassy waters of the lake. Beyond and
around all was haze of a rose-coloured golden hue, which gave to the
centre picture the effect of a vignette. From the upper parts, which
showed the clearest against this background of rosy mist, the various
buildings grew less substantial as the eye followed their lines
downwards, till the bridges and embankments seemed almost ghostly
and unreal, yet strangely beautiful in their airy lightness. And the
picture was so faithfully repeated in the lake that, but for the
reversal of the images, the line that divided the reality from the
shadow could scarcely be discerned; while the whole seemed poised, as
it were, in the ruddy-golden haze like a _mirage_ in mid-air. Just
below them a rocky spur jutted out with clear-cut outline against the
central scene, the palms and other trees with which it was crowned
showing a lace-work pattern of feathery foliage through which naught
could be seen but the golden mist. This part alone seemed real; the
city, with its towers, its lofty buildings, its bridges, and its lake,
seemed too fairy-like a creation to be indeed an earthly reality.
[Illustration: "THE SUN WAS JUST HIGH ENOUGH TO LIGHT UP THE
GLISTENING TOWERS AND CUPOLAS."
[_Page 106._]
Of the three who were thus looking out upon this glorious sight, it
would be hard to say, perhaps, which was most affected by its subtle
influence. Templemore, notwithstanding his affectation of putting on
ultra-practical glasses through which to regard and analyse everything,
had, in reality--as is not infrequent with such characters--a deep
undercurrent of appreciation of beauty, whether exhibited in nature
or in the works of man. As an engineer, he could appreciate the rare
grace and exquisite proportions of the buildings, and of the bridges,
viaducts, and other such works, far better than could Elwood's less
trained mind; and then, his was a naturally generous and unselfish
nature, and--he was in love. Such a temperament cannot look upon
anything that charms, that satisfies the senses, without wishing
that the loved one were present to participate in the pleasure and
gratification experienced. And the absence of that companionship must
necessarily strike a chord of sadness and longing. He was one, at
heart, deeply sensible of these emotions; so sensible, indeed, that he
shrank from displaying them to onlookers; and thus it was that he half
unknowingly hid them beneath a veneer of 'matter-of-fact.'
Elwood's younger impulses, on the other hand, bubbled up on all
occasions unchecked and uncontrolled. He was of a highly imaginative
and poetic turn of mind; he was not in love, and hence, the vague
aspirations of his affections had as yet met with nothing upon
which to rest, or, as it were, to centre themselves. He was filled
with unformed hopes and shapeless expectations. The beautiful was
not satisfying in itself; it was but a stepping-stone, an enticing
indication of something still more pleasing yet to be met with beyond,
in the indefinite future. Thus he was always looking forward to an
horizon that lay beyond his ken; while Templemore's hopes and longings,
though they also turned upon the future, had found, in the being who
had won his love, a settled, definite purpose in life. Not that the
latter was altogether uninfluenced by that spirit of adventure which
always actuates, more or less, young men of his age and character;
though, in this respect, he might be swayed by somewhat more practical
considerations than was the enthusiastic Elwood. In the breasts of the
two, it could scarcely be but that there was some feeling of exultation
and pride in the consciousness that what they had achieved was likely
to bring them a high reward either directly or indirectly--in fame, or
wealth, or both--even though no sordid, grasping greed mingled with the
generous impulses natural to youth.
And Monella? With what feelings was _he_ swayed while he silently
surveyed the fair city that embodied the fulfilment of what he had
been striving after for so many years? He was old, he had no children
or other kin (he had declared) to interest himself in. Fame, power,
riches, he despised--so he had uniformly given his two companions to
understand. None of the motives that prompted the two younger men
seemed to apply in his case; yet the fact was patent to them--had been
all along, since first they met him--that he had been instigated by
some overmastering idea that had become, as Templemore had phrased it,
a sort of religion to him, a faith, a belief; that had urged him on
unceasingly where success had seemed hopeless and the difficulties of
his enterprise insurmountable. Templemore, at Monella's side, could
not but reflect upon this now; as he had similarly reflected upon it
when first they had found themselves veritably inside--so to speak--of
the hitherto inaccessible mountain. But now, mingled with Templemore's
admiring appreciation of all these things, there was a new element in
his feelings towards Monella, which he could only define to himself
as one of reverence. He felt inclined almost to take off his hat, and
deferentially salute the indomitable, high spirit that had led them
on to success, where success had seemed but a fallacious, impossible,
fatuous dream.
But Monella seemed unconscious of all such thoughts. He gazed out on
the scene before him with a countena
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