The Lost Mine of the Amazon

by Hugh Lloyd

  “Let that be the least of your troubles,” Hal assured her. “Perhaps hedid. Anyway, I’m safe—and how!”

  She smiled and got to her feet.

  “Now to let Grandfather meet you,” she said quietly. “He’ll like youbecause of your liking for Rene, but I can’t say he’ll be terriblycourteous. You see, he’s not outgrown the bitterness mygreat-grandfather brought down here from the war.”

  “That’s right,” said Hal, following her along the narrow trail. “Thatwas your great-grandfather, Marcellus Pemberton, huh? Well, he wasn’t tobe blamed for feeling bitter. Pride. But your grandfather Marcellus; heshouldn’t....”

  “All he knows about Yankees he learned from great-grandfatherMarcellus,” Felice said whimsically, “and that wasn’t very complimentaryfrom all accounts. So he’s not to be judged on his merits or demerits.”She laughed. “Rene and I are long enough out of that generation not tocare what the Yankees did. So was my father. He was all for going backto the United States—to Virginia.”

  “That’s right, you people originally hail from Virginia, huh? Well, it’sa lovely state. You wouldn’t go wrong in going back.”

  “Wouldn’t we?” she asked wistfully and seemed to consider it. “What isthe U. S. like, Mr. Hal?”

  “The kind of a place that you criticize when at home, but miss it likethe dickens when you go away. Anyway, she’s not so bad as countries go,Miss Felice. It’s fine for girls.”

  “_Girls!_” she repeated softly. “It must be fine. Rio is nice, but nodoubt Virginia is nicer.”

  “And safer,” said Hal, looking about the lonely place.

  “If you could only tell Grandfather that as convincingly as you’ve toldme,” she sighed.

  She glanced up at Hal and he noticed that, despite her tanned face,there was a pinched look about her that indicated uncertain health. Andhe wondered that she had any health at all for having lived all heryoung life in that jungle wilderness.

  Felice Pemberton, Hal decided, was meant to live in the United Statesand nowhere else.

  CHAPTER XXIV OLD MARCELLUS

  Marcellus Pemberton, the third, greeted Hal courteously, yet coldly.White-haired and rugged, he welcomed his guest with all the pompousgrace of the old southern aristocracy. He promised to dispatch an Indiantoward _Manaos_ at once, then sniffing airily asked what part of“Yankee-land” the stranger had come from.

  Hal took it in good part and smiled. There wasn’t a Yankee-land anylonger, he informed the old man. The United States was one; all thoseabiding there were Americans. Yankee was an almost obsolete word.

  “Not for the spirit of the Old South,” said Old Marcellus defiantly. “Weof the jungle are free men and not to be driven out of our homes bythose who do not agree with our political and personal views. We canstay here until we die—we have our Indian servants....”

  “Slaves?” Hal interposed, looking about at the ragged-looking Indiansmoving in and out of their miserable thatched huts.

  “An ageless and honorable custom if one treats one’s slaves like humanbeings,” said the old man coldly. “I treat mine as best I can after allthese years of poverty. Misfortune and hardship can come to any man,even to the free man of the jungle.” He said this last as if to reassurehimself that he believed what he had said.

  “Misfortune comes to all of us at some time or other, Mr. Pemberton,”Hal said politely. “I’ve had a touch of it myself, and I’m feelingrather low down just now. By your leave, I’ll rest until the old vim andvigor come back.”

  Old Marcellus was the soul of hospitality despite his prejudices. Toslight a guest on his property was the last thing in the world he wouldcare to do, whether that guest was a hated Yankee or no. And, with Hal’sadmission of indisposition, all his innate courtesy came to the fore. Hepoured out apologies profusely, and bade his granddaughter show theirguest his quarters.

  “Such as they are,” she smiled, as she led Hal to a rude hut next totheir own. “But it’s the best we have to offer—we reserve it especiallyfor infrequent guests.”

  She led Hal through a low, narrow opening and nodded at the singlechair, the hammock and the washbasin on an old-fashioned stand. It wasprimitive, but scrupulously neat and clean.

  “Things have just gone along so-so with we Pembertons,” she explainedapologetically. “It’s impossible to grow much more than potatoes here.We raise chickens and a half mile from here we can get all thepineapples you want to eat.”

  “Boy!” Hal exclaimed. “That sounds darn good to me—just like home. Andchicken? Young lady, I’m your friend for life. You don’t happen to drinksuch luxurious beverages as tea and coffee, do you?”

  “Through Rene’s generosity we allow ourselves that luxury,” she smiled.“This property yields us no income whatsoever, Mr. Hal. And it yieldsbut half of our food.”

  “Then why on earth do you people stay here?” Hal asked, flinging himselfdown on the chair.

  “Grandfather again,” said the girl wistfully. “It was here that we foundFather’s canoe and camping outfit, but no lode. And Grandfather, boundas he is to memories and to the dim, dead past, had us pack up and leaveour more comfortable quarters thirty miles below here and come live onthis poverty-stricken site. He said that if Father had died here, weshould live here in his memory. A queer man is my grandfather, Mr. Hal.He’s old and I respect him—indeed, I wouldn’t think of being aught butobedient to his every wish. Still, I cannot help thinking that hisbitterness is not good.”

  “Bitterness is terrible,” Hal agreed. “But one thing, it hasn’t affectedyou and that’s good.”

  “I’ve seen too much of it. It hasn’t affected my brother Rene, except ina political way. Grandfather’s ideas about free men in the jungle hasaffected him, but that’s all. He’s come to believe that the jungle manshould rebel and take part of the earnings of his more fortunate brotherin the cities.”

  “What a strange, struggling family you are!” Hal said, watching thegirl’s sad, piquant face. “Memories and the past are all right as longas they don’t interfere with the happiness of the present, huh? I betyou think that way, don’t you, Miss Felice?”

  “I do, Mr. Hal,” she admitted, “but you’re the first one to whom I’veconfessed it.”

  “Then it’s safe with me,” Hal said whimsically, “and what’s more it’sbetter on my chest than on yours. I’m glad I came along to relieve youof the burden, honest I am.”

  “And I’m glad you came along too. Rene stays away so long sometimes. Itgets rather dull.”

  “Not when I’m around,” Hal chuckled, and looked down at the girlintently. “There’s something about me, my uncle always says, that seemsto whoop things up wherever I go. He says I’m not in a place very longbefore things just naturally begin to happen. So if that holds good heretoo, Miss Felice, just sit tight and hope for the worst.”

  She laughed heartily and, shaking her finger playfully at Hal, steppedoutside.

  “The worst can’t be too bad for me,” she called back over her slimshoulder. “The worst would be better than just this!”

  And by that same token did Felice Pemberton invite the long arm ofdestiny into that little settlement on the _River of Pale Death_.

  CHAPTER XXV AFTER DINNER

  Hal reveled in the luxury of a hammock that long afternoon and slept thesleep of the righteous. He awakened, feeling fresh and stronger than anytime since the plane wreck. And to add to his delight, Mr. Pemberton’sfavorite Indian, Joaquim, was standing patiently at the door profferingshaving materials and a change of clothes including a worn but cleanpair of khaki knickers.

  “The Señor Rene’s,” the Indian explained as he held out the knickers.“Señor will fit—no?”

  “Yes—sure. Rene’s not so much shorter than I. And I bathe in the river,huh, Joaquim?”

  “Yes, Señor. But watch for the electric fish. They send shock andsometimes people die from it
.”

  “Well, I’ve got enough electricity in me without clashing with thosefish, Joaquim. Thanks for the tip, anyway.”

  And so he bathed without incident, shaved and dressed, then strolledtoward the Pemberton hut, a broad, low structure of mud and thatch.Felice and her grandfather were on hand to greet him.

  The building boasted of three good-sized rooms, that is, it was one vastroom partitioned off into three. Two of the partitions, Feliceexplained, were used as bedrooms and the third, a wide room across thefront of the hut, was their dining-living room.

  That room, into which Hal was ushered, boasted of a fair-sized diningtable, a half-dozen rickety chairs, an antique sideboard, and adilapidated couch. The kitchen, Felice explained, was in Joaquim’s hutand under his own supervision.

  They sat down to a nicely set table and Hal perceived that Felice’s slimbrown hand had given the extra touches in honor of a guest. A worn butclean tablecloth gleamed under the candlelight, and the silver, he wascertain, had graced the table of many generations of Pembertons inVirginia.

  Hal ate his fill of chicken, fish, sweet potatoes, cooling pineapple,and two cups of coffee. True, it was rather bitter and was flavored withcondensed milk, but coffee had never been so welcome and he sat sippingthe second cup with some Brazilian cigarettes which Old Marcellus keptfor guests.

  The old man was pleasant, and he beguiled Hal with divers tales of hisexperiences in the Amazon jungle. Now and then a note of bitternesswould creep into his feeble voice, but upon looking at Hal’s smilingcountenance he would dismiss his subject and begin on another. Butalways he seemed to come back to the same subject, that of his longmissing son.

  His days and nights, the whole of his remaining life was spent thinkingof that tragic affair. Hal’s heart went out to him and he wondered whathis life would have been—what all their lives would have been if thatterrible thing hadn’t happened!

  Felice had sat quietly through her grandfather’s long recital. Finallyshe sat up straight in her chair and shook her small, golden headdeterminedly.

  “Now Grandfather,” she said, “Mr. Hal has been hearing our story eversince he came up the river to _Manaos_. Suppose we let him have an endto this Phantom of Death River and change to a lighter vein.”

  “Of course, Felice,” said Old Marcellus. “No doubt the young man isterribly bored. I forget myself and talk, talk, talk.”

  “Not at all, not at all,” Hal assured them. “I lean toward things likethis—I mean toward the supernatural. Of course I don’t take any stock init that Miss Felice’s father is roaming around and screaming in jaguarform. I don’t believe that at all, but the idea fascinates me.”

  “That’s because you’re a romanticist, Mr. Hal,” said the girl. “If youweren’t, you wouldn’t get into a scrape like that plane business. Itpays to beware of strangers, especially men like Señor Goncalves. Hemust be a very cold-blooded man to have devised such a scheme. I’ve toldGrandfather how you met him on your way to _Manaos_ and the subsequentevents.”

  “Granting all that,” said Old Marcellus, “I can’t understand why theSeñor should want to take your uncle’s life and your own. Why?”

  “That’s what I wanted to ask, but didn’t,” Felice said smiling.

  “And I forgot to tell you,” Hal explained. “You are people of honor andI can entrust to you the secret of my uncle’s mission up here. He’s asecret service man and he brought me along with him on the excitingchase of a munition’s smuggler. That is, he’s trying to help theBrazilian Government, in coöperation with our own, to trace thesmuggling of munitions to this country. And if we find the man who’s thego-between on this end, we’ll soon learn who the manufacturers are inthe U. S.”

  “And is the man—_Renan_?” asked Old Marcellus softly.

  “Do you know him?” Hal returned eagerly.

  Before they could answer, Joaquim appeared in the doorway, gesticulatingto his master and looking quite perturbed.

  CHAPTER XXVI A FAMILIAR VOICE

  “What is it, Joaquim?” asked the old man.

  Joaquim’s tongue loosed in rapid-fire Portuguese for fully two minutes.Felice sat tense, her hands clenching the tablecloth and her facenoticeably pale. And the old man, though apparently quite calm, had twopatches of color that came and went at intervals in his bony cheeks.

  When the Indian had finished Old Marcellus stood up, talked crisply inPortuguese, then dismissed the servant. That done, he turned to Hal.

  “Just some visitors, young man,” he said courteously. “You will excuseme?”

  “Of course,” Hal said smiling. “I’ve been taking up your time too longanyhow.”

  “No doubt you feel fatigued still?” Felice asked in a strained manner.

  Hal was not a little surprised but he managed to conceal it.

  “I can always sleep, Miss Felice,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s whyI’ve grown up to be such a big boy.”

  She giggled, but grew instantly serious as he said goodnight. OldMarcellus bowed gravely and showed almost too palpably that he wouldfeel immensely relieved when his guest was gone to his hut.

  Hal felt the situation as one of his temperament feelseverything—_intensely_. He knew that there was some deep, underlyingmotive for the strange behavior of his host and hostess. Too, he knewthat the sudden visitors whom Joaquim announced must have given themcause for deep concern.

  “But then that’s their business,” Hal told himself as he strolled towardthe hut. “Why should it have anything to do with me? It’s been said thatevery family keeps a skeleton or two hidden in the closet. Maybe this isthe night that the Pembertons are letting theirs out for a walk.”

  Hal had quite forgotten the incident by the time he got into his hammockand under the net so solicitously provided by Joaquim. He was sleepierthan he realized and after smoking another of Old Marcellus’ Braziliancigarettes, he closed his eyes willingly.

  He thought over all that had happened during the day, particularly hismeeting with Felice. He liked saying her name aloud. There was somethingsoft and soothing in the sound. He thought of her frailness and thin,pinched cheeks and immediately he wanted to do something for her thatwould make her look bright and healthy, not sad and weary-looking as hevisualized her then.

  He had a mind picture of her laughing along some unfrequented trail inRamapo, whose picturesque hills took on its winter cloak when the Amazonwas at its highest temperature. She would look pretty, he decided, whenthe wind blew hardest and the snow flew thickest. There wasn’t theslightest doubt about it—Felice belonged in Ramapo and he determined totell her so.

  Suddenly his thoughts switched to the immediate present. His uncle wouldsoon hear that he was safe, and so would his mother. At last! His nextmove was to start back for _Manaos_. But as he had been gone this longhe could defer it a few days, as long as no one was worrying about him.

  The Pembertons interested him too much to leave right off. He chuckled.The Pembertons? Why fool himself! It was Felice who interested him andhe knew that it was especially so because of the glamour of mysterysurrounding her life in the wilderness.

  In any event, he was inspired to do something manly and adventurous forthis frail wilderness flower. And to sleep he went, with this generousand noble desire making peaceful his deep slumber.

  That it was deep, Joaquim witnessed when he crept stealthily under thedoorway of the hut of their honored guest. Soundlessly he stole up toHal’s hammock and listened intently for fully five minutes to his soft,even breathing. Then, with a satisfied air, the Indian stole out again.

  Hal, however, being temperamental, was often disturbed by another’s merepresence. It was so in this case, for he was awake and sitting up in hishammock before Joaquim’s stealthy figure had cleared the doorway. Andthough he was still dazed, he knew that the Indian’s presence was a signthat Old Marcellus and his granddaughter were up to something.

  Hal got into his clothes in a minute and crept
cautiously toward thedoor. He stood and listened there before he emerged and even then putout his head and looked about carefully.

  There was no sound except the low murmur of voices from Pemberton’s hut.He could not distinguish them at all and proceeded to move further outinto the clearing when he suddenly saw Joaquim’s squat figure move outof the shadows and down toward the river.

  Hal moved noiselessly up to the Pemberton hut and drew close into itsprotecting shadows. Old Marcellus was talking in even tones, calm anddistinct.

  “Yes,” he was saying, “this used to be a _Pallida_ settlement. Why doyou ask, Señor?”

  “Curiosity, Señor Pemberton,” said a soft, purring voice. “And your son,his canoe, his camp was found here—no?”

  “Yes. But surely you heard the story many times.”

  “Not so thoroughly as I heard it lately, Señor. And the _Pallidas_ theydid not come back to claim their settlement?”

  “No,” answered Old Marcellus. “It’s their custom not to reclaim asettlement once they’re driven off by a white man. They have areputation for superstition you know.”

  “But your son, he drove them off, eh?”

  “Yes; he believed there was a lode somewhere here worth a fortune. Butpoor man, he gave his life for that illusion. My grandson and I havehunted the length and breadth of this clearing in vain.”