XIII
MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD
Miranda was not dreaming--the tunnel had vanished. That may be a strongword for it; but anyway, whatever had happened, the tunnel was not to befound.
Returning by the path upon which they had entered the subterraneanchamber, they were confronted by a wall of rock where the entrance tothe tunnel should have been. They were perfectly certain that when theypassed out of the tunnel, less than half an hour before, into the mainbody of the cave, this wall had not been there. Where it had come from,why they had not seen it before, were posers too puzzling to waste timeover. No one had seen it, of that they were certain; and they couldn'thave helped seeing it if it had been there. Hence they were forced tothe astonishing conclusion that this wall had moved into its presentposition during the last half hour through some invisible, superhumanagency. The whole thing, in fact, was incomprehensible, ridiculous,absurd. But there it was, for all that--and it had its depressingconsequences.
"You know that crocodile on the river," said Miranda impressively; "heopen the mouth--the bird walk in. He shut the mouth--the bird is in onetrap. So it is to us."
Terrified by this picture of what had happened, Mrs. Quayleinvoluntarily clutched the jewels encircling her neck as if to protectthem from some invisible brigand. The schoolmaster, also, seemed tosuffer additional discomfort. Miranda's way of putting it, however,failed to satisfy the others. Leighton stoutly refused to believe inmagic. Herran, in voluble Spanish, insisted that magic alone couldexplain the affair. Miranda repeated his alligator theory.
"This cave is alive," he added. "You see the mark of the feets?"
"Where is Mr. Arthur?" suddenly asked Una.
They had been so absorbed in the mystery of the vanishing tunnel thatthe absence of one of their number had not been noticed. Una's startledquery brought them face to face with another puzzle, as baffling anduncanny, in a way, as the wall of rock that had come from nowhere andplanted itself between them and the entrance to the cave. Raoul haddisappeared; search as they might, call as loudly as they could, notrace of him was to be found. Had he deliberately deserted them, orhad he suddenly been spirited away by the same invisible agency thathad prevented their leaving the cave? The more credulous of the partybelieved he had been spirited away.
"But it is impossible," insisted Miranda angrily. "I see him now--andnow he is not here. The canaille!"
"There is only one thing to be done," declared Leighton emphatically."We can't get out of here; we must go on."
"Yes! Yes!" exclaimed Una.
"Caramba! What for we go on?" remonstrated Miranda. "We are lost, westarve, if we leave this place."
"You mean, we are lost if we stay here," reasoned Leighton. "There isnothing to be gained by staring at this rock. The fact that Arthur hasdisappeared, that the entrance to the tunnel has been closed, that thereare fresh footprints besides our own all about us, proves that this caveis inhabited. Whoever they are, we must find these people."
Leighton's way of putting things was effective. It at least preventeda panic. Even Miranda admitted the necessity of the course proposed bythe savant, and as Herran had nothing else to offer in its place, it wasdecided to press on with the exploration of the cave without delay.
Fortunately, they had a fair amount of provisions and enough oil tokeep their lamps going for several days. Before starting on theirexpedition--when it promised to be nothing more than a "picnic"--thissupply of food and fuel seemed far beyond any possible need. Now, thanksto the fussiness of Mrs. Quayle, who had insisted on these abundantpreparations, there was no immediate danger of starvation. Each carriedhis or her portion of food in a light, capacious sack. These sacks,woven by the natives from vegetable fiber, swung easily from theshoulders. The oil for the lamps was in two cans, one of which Andrewcarried, Raoul the other. Whatever had become of Raoul, his can of oilhad not disappeared with him. It was found near the spot in the largecave where Miranda had turned back to take Mrs. Quayle to the tunnel.Here, then, Raoul had left them. Hoping for a clew, they examined theground for his footprints, but could discover nothing. The path beyondshowed the impress of sandaled feet only--and Raoul, they agreed, didnot wear sandals. Either he had left the path and chosen the rocky floorof the cavern in its stead--in which case it would be impossible todiscover his trail--or he had followed them to the tunnel and gone offon one of the side tracks that they had noticed and partially exploredthere. Why he should have done either of these things was quite beyondthem to answer. At any rate, they tried every means to find him, andtheir failure left them more despondent than ever. All except Leightonand Una.
Failure did not daunt Leighton. He was convinced that by persevering intheir exploration they would solve the mystery of the cave, gain tidingsof David, and run down Raoul. Una shared his optimistic view, and bothchafed at the reluctance of their companions to go ahead with the energytheir plight demanded. The fact is, the feeling that they were caught ina cavern of unknown extent, connected with certain mysterious happeningsin the immediate past, mixed up in the legendary history of a vanishedrace, and inhabited even now by strange beings in outlandish costumes,had a blighting effect upon them. Mrs. Quayle refused to be comfortedand, as it was out of the question to go on without her, Leighton, likean astute general, proposed having lunch before doing anything else.Every one brightened up at the idea; it was one of those masterstrokesof policy that, when all else fails, saves the day. Miranda declaredemphatically that food was "good for the estomach," and, as no onethought otherwise, they fell to with an appetite sharpened by theirexertions and made fairly razor-like--although this they did notrealize--by the bracing atmosphere of the cave.
There were bollos of corn and yucca--yellow, white, brown--variouslyflavored, soggy, solid. This was a concentrated food that just hit theneed of a party of marooned picknickers. And there were large flatdisks of cassava, a native bread that Mrs. Quayle declared, with somereason, resembled chips of wood, more than anything else, in taste andtoughness. This, too, furnished the maximum of nourishment in a smallspace. These foods, with such fruits as the almond-like sapoti, thejuicy nispera, the delicate chirimoyo, furnished a meal that arousedMiranda's enthusiasm, although to the untrained New England palate itwas not quite so satisfying as it might be. The thought, too, that afterthis supply of food was exhausted, there would be nothing to eat, andno way of getting anything to eat, spoiled just that part of the picnicthat should be most enjoyable. And then, worse than all, unthought ofuntil now, there was the appalling problem of--water. In the lunch bagsof Doctor Miranda and General Herran there were two small bottles ofred wine; but when this was offered to Mrs. Quayle that unhappy lady'sthirst for water reached an acute stage. She declared that all wine waspoison, and that she would die if she couldn't get a drink of water.Even Leighton was disturbed. Water they must have, but--did it exist ina cave that was, apparently, caused by fire and not--as all respectablecaves are--by water?
"Guatavita!" exclaimed Miranda, smacking his lips after a deep draughtof claret.
"Guatavita!" echoed Leighton irritably. "Why not say the riverMagdalena? How are we to reach Guatavita?"
"It is near," was the complacent reply. "It come into the cave."
"How do you know that?"
"Always there is water in the cave. And here--there is the lakeoutside."
"Yes, outside," said Leighton bitterly.
"But first it is inside."
Miranda's confident assertion was worth considering. That there mightbe--that there probably was--some subterranean connection betweenthe cave and the lake--even if the former did come from fire--was aplausible theory. As he went over the matter in his own mind, Leighton'srespect for Miranda's common sense jumped from zero to a comparativelyhigh figure. But he was not convinced.
"You forget; we are above the level of the lake," he argued.
"That is true," agreed the doctor, who, in the meantime, bottle inhand, had been nervously walking about, peering into the darkness thatsurrounded them.
"Yes, that is true. We come in over there; and alwayswe walk up, up. The lake is always below. This path it never go down.But here--aha! Caramba!--is one other path--and it go down."
Miranda's voice shrilled with excitement. He was elated with theimportance of his discovery. And it was important. The spot they hadchosen for their lunch was the furthest point they had reached in theirexplorations, the point where Miranda had turned back to take Mrs.Quayle out of the cave and where they had last seen Raoul Arthur. It wasmarked by a huge pyramidal rock rising from the floor of the cave. Alongone side of this rock the path they had followed went on indefinitely,in a gradual upward incline. It was to the other side that Mirandaeagerly called attention. Placing his bottle of claret down on the rockbeside him, he got on his knees and, with his nose almost touching theground, made a minute study of the floor of the cave.
Even Andrew felt the contagion of the doctor's excitement. Fruits,bollos, cassavas were abandoned pell mell as one and all scrambled totheir feet eager to find out what new puzzle Miranda had managed topick up. The light from their lamps cast huge, uncertain shadows on theirregular masses of rock that everywhere blocked the view. At firstthere was nothing to be seen that differed essentially from what theyhad grown accustomed to in this subterranean world. There was the samechaos of jagged pinnacles and bowlders, the same display of irresistibleenergy that had been let loose and played itself out here ages ago. Butin the midst of it all, zigzagging through this maze of dusty forms,there was the new path announced by Miranda. It led away from thecentral rock, or pillar, where they had taken their lunch, and formedan acute angle with the path they had already traversed. It was not soplainly marked as the latter, and appeared little more than a rift amongthe rocks that strewed the floor of the cave. But it was a path, therewas no mistaking that. Among the evidences that it had been recentlyused was one that particularly delighted Miranda and justified hisprolonged microscopic examination of the path itself--the footprints ofa man wearing, not sandals, but shoes.
"Raoul Arthur!" exclaimed Leighton.
"Perhaps," agreed Miranda.
"Where could he have gone?" asked Una. "This path runs in nearly thesame direction as the one we followed."
"We will see."
As a matter of fact, the two paths, starting together at the centralrock and going thence in the same general direction, gradually divergedfrom each other, much as do the two lines that form the letter V.Then, another difference was noticeable. The first path followed acomparatively uniform level; the second dipped steadily downward.This peculiarity, first noted by Miranda, appealed particularly toHerran. Gloom had been the dominant mood with the general ever sincehe had entered the cave. He had made mental notes of things as theyhad happened, but he had not shared in the discussions of the others.This was partly due to his ignorance of English, partly to a sense ofresponsibility that he felt as a citizen of Bogota whose duty it wasto guide a party of foreigners safely through one of the difficultregions of his native land. But now, at last, he had something to say,something that was due from him as their leader. Tugging at his beard incharacteristic fashion, he gave the result of his observations in terseSpanish.
"At first we go away from the lake. Then we come back to it, just alittle. Then we go away. Now this path take us right there again."
"That is it," agreed Miranda.
It sounded rather mixed up, and no one paid much attention to it. But atleast it put General Herran in a better humor.
"Perhaps this will take us out of the cave," suggested Andrew. "The pathis nearly in the right direction."
"I hope it means water, anyway," said Una, thinking of Mrs. Quayle.
They gathered up what was left of their provisions and set off again,single file, down the new path, General Herran in the lead, Andrewbringing up the rear. They had not gone many yards before they noticedthe marked difference in the two paths. At first the change in level wasscarcely perceptible; but now the descent became more and more abrupt,and as there was less sand and gravel for a foothold, they found thesmooth surface of the rocks, tilted often at a sharp angle, anything buteasy going. Another peculiarity that soon caught their attention was thelessening height of the cave's roof. Until now this roof had been so farabove them that they had to throw their heads way back to see it, andeven then it appeared in only vague outlines. Now it took a downwardcurve that brought it nearer and nearer to them. Following the samedescending sweep it was evident that floor and roof would shortly cometogether and the confines, at least of that portion of the cave, wouldbe reached.
Along with this new architectural feature in the structure of the cave,there was a noticeable change in the character of the rock forming it.Walls and floor had, until now, been sharp and jagged in contour, dull,almost black, in color. But the unevenness of surface was disappearing.The rocks were smoother, as if worn and rounded by constant rubbing.Vivid colors gleamed from wall and column with a pristine freshnesssuggesting that this part of the cave belonged to a far more distantperiod than the great rock chamber in which they had stopped to taketheir luncheon. Finally, they were surrounded at every hand by thosespear-like formations, thrust upwards from the floor or depending fromthe roof, that give to the interiors of most caves their fantasticappearance--the stalactites and stalagmites about whose origin in theworkshop of Nature there can be no doubt.
This change had an invigorating effect upon the explorers. Passing fromthe unrelieved gloom of the first cavern into this fairy-built grotto,with its bright hues and pleasing shapes, they began to forget theirfears and felt instead something like the real enjoyment that belongs tounexpected adventure. Everything in the way of glorious surprise seemedpossible. For one thing, Miranda's confident prediction was apparentlyabout to be realized, a probability that the doctor celebrated byalternate chuckles and grunts of satisfaction.
"If we don't find water, there is at least no doubt that water has oncebeen here," declared Leighton. "These stalactites make that certain."
"You will see--you will see," persisted Miranda. "It is the LakeGuatavita."
"How can that be?" argued Leighton. "No opening of the lake into thiscave has ever been discovered."
"You will see."
One might almost imagine that the intricacies of the cave were asfamiliar to the doctor as the formula for his celebrated pills. But hisconfident attitude was only one part genuine to three parts bravado. Heenjoyed opposing a scientist showing such supreme self-possession asLeighton, and he delighted in startling statements of fact that merelybewildered his hearers. But he was by no means sure in his own mindof the truth, or even the probability of the theory he was advancing.General Herran, however, who had heard as far back as he could rememberthe strange tales of mystery regarding Lake Guatavita, and had oftenspeculated with other Bogotanos on the disappearance beneath its watersof the fabulous wealth of the ancient Chibchas, was keenly alive to thepossibilities lying before them now that they were on the very spothaunted by so many fascinating traditions of his race. Like most nativesof Bogota the Spanish blood in his veins was mixed with the blood of theChibchas--and it was an infusion he was proud to own. Hence, he readilybelieved that at any moment they would stumble upon a perfect mountainof treasure, all the lost gold and emeralds that Spanish romancers haddreamed about and travelers of the old heroic times had risked theirlives for.
They had now reached the end of the precipitous incline down which thepath had led them, thankful to exchange the slipping and sliding, towhich the tilted rocks had treated them, for the firm footing offered bya comparatively level floor. Here the roof hung only a few feet abovetheir heads, whence it curved downward, glistening with the delicatefretwork that the subterranean torrents of bygone ages had carved uponit, until it became a part of the rock-strewn ground beneath. Thechamber thus formed became a long, spacious corridor, one side of whichwas open to the vast amphitheater they had just left, the other sidestoutly hemmed in by a maze of stalactites and stalagmites looming upas sentinels in front of a wall that could
be dimly seen behind them.Down the middle of this corridor lay the path they had been following,wider now and showing the imprint of many sandaled feet. Before them, atthe end of the corridor, they could distinguish the outlines of anotherwall, apparently marking the limit of this portion of the cave.
"There is your lake," said Leighton ironically to Miranda, who shruggedhis shoulders in reply.
"At any rate, Uncle Harold," said Una reproachfully, "there must be anopening here. And the air is just heavenly! Instead of walking, onecould dance."
The others appeared to feel the truth of Una's observation, for theymoved along with a briskness, a snap, they had not shown before. Thiswas particularly noticeable in Mrs. Quayle, who seemed to be propelledby some inner gayety of spirit that quite changed her usually sedatemanner and appearance. The transformation was not lost on Una, who wasboth amused and puzzled by it.
"Look at Mrs. Quayle's jewelry!" she exclaimed. "It is dancing about asif it were moved by a breeze from somewhere."
"What do you mean? I can't feel any breeze," declared Leighton. "Thesingular fluttering of Mrs. Quayle's jewelry simply means, I suppose,that the wearer is, as usual, agitated."
That Mrs. Quayle was agitated, and not in the joyous frame of mind thatUna at first supposed, began to be painfully evident. Ever since shehad come into the cave agitation had been a chronic condition with her.But in this instance it hardly explained the eccentric activity thathad suddenly developed among the ancient heirlooms that she guarded sojealously. The large gold pendants that dangled from her necklace beatan unaccountable tattoo upon her neck and shoulders, while the massivebrooch fastened to her bodice showed an obstinate tendency to break awayfrom its moorings. Even the gold rings on her fingers seemed possessedwith a rebellious spirit, a mischievous desire to dance in unisonwith brooch and necklace, while two heavy bracelets, made of linksand chains, clicked and snapped like castanets under the prevailingterpsichorean influence.
For several minutes before Una drew attention to these strange anticsMrs. Quayle had been unhappily aware of the insurrection that hadbroken out among her treasures and had clutched frantically at them inan unavailing attempt to quiet their ill-timed frenzy. She dabbed atthem with one hand and caressed them with the other, only to find thatas soon as they were freed from her restraining touch they flapped andjingled and tugged at her with renewed energy. Finally, with the eyes ofall the party upon her, the terrified lady gave up in despair.
"I don't know what is the matter with them," she wailed; "they neveracted this way before. I am not agitated," she added irritably, "asMr. Leighton says. And I don't think it is a breeze either. It takesmore than a breeze to make bracelets and brooches dance. They are justpossessed, and for no reason at all. Oh, why did I wear these preciousthings on this terrible journey!"
Doctor Miranda, with the steadfast gaze of an exorcist, planting himselffirmly in front of her, his arms crossed on his chest Bonaparte-fashion,added to Mrs. Quayle's dismay.
"I think she have the malaria," he announced solemnly. "I give her mypills----"
"I won't take your old pills," was the spirited reply. "They nearly didfor poor Mr. Andrew. I think they may kill him yet. There is nothing thematter with me. I want to get out of this cave--and I'm going to thisvery minute."
Never in the annals of her long career as housekeeper and self-effacinglady's companion had Mrs. Quayle been known to give way to such opendefiance of any one belonging to the opposite sex. And, as if to showthat she meant every word she said, she brushed past the astonisheddoctor and strode ahead of the others along the path leading down thecorridor. To no one was her behavior more astonishing than to Leighton,in whom the reserve of the scientist was sorely strained by this suddenshow of daring from a creature whose timidity was proverbial. As leaderof the expedition, and obeying also the skeptical bent of his nature,the savant felt that his own dignity was involved.
"Mrs. Quayle is perfectly right," he announced coolly; "we must lose nomore time in these trifles. What if her jewelry does show a dispositionto dance? A woman's jewelry is always ridiculous--and Mrs. Quayle's hasalways been a puzzle besides."
But the rest of the party soon found that Mrs. Quayle was not an easyleader to follow. Where before she kept them back by her ineffectualefforts to get over the various obstacles encountered in theirexplorations, and had needed their help at almost every step, shenow set them a pace that atoned for her former lagging. Whether thisamazing activity was due to a sudden attack of fever, as Doctor Mirandamaintained, or whether it came from a frantic desire to escape from aregion that filled her with superstitious terrors, Mrs. Quayle showed nosign of giving up what she proposed to do, whatever that might be. Onthe contrary, as the far end of the corridor grew more distinct she spedalong faster than ever. Her rebellious jewelry fluttered and twitchedand danced more vigorously, until it fairly stood out before her,straining and pulling her along, breathless and hysterical, as if drawnby some irresistible force.
"I can't stop it! I can't stop it!" she gasped.
To which Miranda, puffing along in her wake, replied with dramaticemphasis: "This little woman must be stop!"
But this was not easy, even for a doctor with unlimited experience inquinine. The smooth, tapering surfaces of the stalactites, standing onguard in long rows down one side of the corridor, glinted derisively asthe explorers rushed past them frantically trying to curb the frenzythat had seized this perfectly harmless woman who was now leading themon to a goal that might have all kinds of disaster in store for them.As they drew nearer the end of the corridor, the expected opening thatwas to deliver them from their subterranean prison was not visible,at least to the hasty glance that could be spared from the absorbingpursuit of Mrs. Quayle. Nevertheless, the awkward rapidity with whichthey were hurrying on to their fate was to be rewarded, apparently,by the discovery of something that was different, at any rate, fromthe wilderness of rocks that hitherto had baffled them in this gloomyunderworld--and it was not General Herran's mountain of gold andemeralds, either.
Something made by man, and not by nature, was here. This wasunmistakably revealed in an odd sort of structure towards which theywere hurrying. At last they were confronted, they believed, by theclew to the mysterious beings who inhabited the place, whose presencehad been indicated by the footprints, by the man in the toga, seen, orimagined, by Andrew, and vaguely suggested by the weird disappearanceof the entrance to the tunnel through which they had hoped to maketheir escape. Here all these things that had filled them with alternateanxiety and curiosity were to be explained. Unfortunately, Mrs. Quayle'simpatience to get on gave them no opportunity to reconnoitre, at asafe distance, the object they were approaching. Leighton especially,accustomed to the careful methods of science, would have preferred amore deliberate and cautious mode of travel to the brainless hurryinto which his housekeeper had plunged them. As it was, the objectlooming before them, so far as they could snatch time to make it out,resembled a huge stone windlass. Even the cylindrical drum and the longcurved handle hanging at the side of one of the tall uprights were ofstone. Certainly, a windlass like this--if it was a windlass--hadnever been seen before. It could not be the work of modern times--itwas much too clumsy for that. And of stone! Perhaps it belonged to theStone Age. It was conceivable--and the notion stirred the depths of thesavant's soul with delight--that here, in this subterranean chamber ofthe Andes, they were about to stumble upon an archaeological find thatwould revolutionize the current theories as to primitive man and hisdevelopment. But--was it a windlass? The two uprights carrying the longhorizontal drum at the top, instead of in the middle, were some tenor fifteen feet high. With such an abnormal height, and such singularconstruction, the THING might be intended to serve as a gallows quiteas reasonably as a windlass. Whoever would have believed that they hadthe gallows in the Stone Age! There, sure enough, was the rope danglingmost suggestively from the crosspiece--or drum, whichever it might be.But then, a rope was the conventional adornment, whether for gallowsor windlass. A
s they came within fifty yards of it, the THING lookedunquestionably more and more like a gallows, less like a windlass. Itstood within ten feet of the wall, through a long, wide aperture inwhich one end of the rope disappeared. The other end, attached to whatappeared to be a great oblong stone, lay coiled upon the ground.
Not until she had almost reached it did Mrs. Quayle realize the oddityof the structure towards which she had been racing. Then its resemblanceto a gallows suddenly flashed upon her. With a gurgle of horror shethrew herself upon the ground, unable, apparently, so long as sheremained upon her feet, to contend against the invisible influencethat forced her to run fairly into the arms of this terrifying object.Prostrate between two rocks lying across the path, her wild flight cameto an end. Here her companions gathered around her--Miranda, puffing andpanting from his exertions, determined to allay the violent attack offever that he still believed was the cause of the lady's unaccountableparoxysms; Leighton, torn between the psychological interest of the caseand the archaeological puzzle awaiting solution; Andrew, his huge handswaving about in helpless dismay, muttering incoherent advice to any onewho would listen, and Una, anxious to soothe an agitation that, sheconceived, was due merely to a case of nerves.
"She will be all right--soon she will be all right," declared Miranda,intent on his professional duties as he knelt on the ground beside Mrs.Quayle. With which comforting assurance he seized one of her hands, andwith his other hand tried to force open her mouth.
"I am all right," she shrieked, tearing herself out of his clutches."There's nothing the matter with me. Something is pulling me to thatterrible thing over there. It seems to be my jewelry. My necklace iscutting my head off. This brooch!--oh! it's awful! What shall I do? Whatis the matter?"
"It is very simple," declared Leighton sternly. "Take off your jewelryif it bothers you. I don't see why you should be wearing it, anyway."
Mrs. Quayle clutched wildly at her necklace and brooch, loath to partwith them and evidently regarding the people gathered around her aslittle better than a lot of brigands who had lured her here to robher of her treasures. Every one else heartily agreed with Leighton'sproposal.
"Caramba! That is true!" shouted Miranda delightedly. "This necklace, itchoke her too much. I take him off of her."
Before Mrs. Quayle could protest further, Miranda seized her by thethroat, hauling at the massive necklace in an effort to find the claspthat held it in place. The task proved difficult and promised to developfeatures that savored more of surgery than anything else. The troublewas not so much from the defensive tactics employed by Mrs. Quayle--whocontrived to elude Miranda's grasp with surprising agility--as it waswith the necklace itself. Never was a simple piece of jewelry morerebellious. It slipped through the doctor's fingers and jumped about andtugged at its victim's neck in the most baffling and erratic manner. ButMiranda, growing more eager and determined, triumphed at last. Holdingthe snakelike coil in both hands as in an iron vise, he tore the chainapart with a masterly jerk.
And then an odd thing happened. Bounding to his feet, elated with hissuccess, and holding the necklace towards his companions as if it were ahard-won trophy, Miranda suddenly spun around like a top, his arms shotstraight out in front of him, and in this posture, before any one knewwhat he was about, he fairly raced towards the ominous apparatus at theend of the corridor and hurled himself on the oblong stone beneath it.
The Gilded Man: A Romance of the Andes Page 14
