Complete Fictional Works of John Buchan (Illustrated)

by John Buchan

  “Let her alone, Jake,” said one of them; “she ain’t yours. We’ve got to toss for her, and act on the square.”

  The man released her. “I guess that’s right. Run away, my beauty. We got a bond on you, and it’s soon goin’ to be cashed in.” As she hurried off, not daring to look behind, she heard again the ill-omened laughter.

  At the midday meal her fears were increased. She was curtly told by Romanes that she must prepare to change her quarters. That evening after sundown she would be sent with D’Ingraville to another place. He was perfectly frank. “It is for your own safety, madame,” he said “You are in danger here at the moment, for there are fools among us. It is not yet in our interest that you should come to any harm.”

  There was no need of acting now. With a face like a sheet she stammered that she was feeling too unwell to travel. “To-morrow, I will be better,” she wailed. “But not to-day, please — not to-day.”

  They talked among themselves. “There is no hurry,” said D’Ingraville. “If she is sick, I cannot carry her to Agua Secreta. It is the devil’s own road.”

  Romanes demurred, but in the end was persuaded. “A word of advice to you, madame,” he said at last. “Do not show yourself this afternoon. Keep in this vicinity, and above all do not go near the camp of those others. Do you understand me?”

  Janet understood only too well, for the leering faces of the card-players that morning had chilled her with a new and terrible fear...What refuge could she find between now and sundown?...Could she get hold of Luis and tell him of this fresh peril? He alone would be able to protect her, for if it came to a fight she did not believe that the Conquistadors could stand up against the Bodyguard...She was in terror of both parties, but she wondered if it would not have been wise to go with D’Ingraville. The Indians — Luis — would follow her, and could rescue her.

  But she remembered Luis’s strict injunction that she was to be in the great rotunda after nightfall and before moonrise. He had made his plans, and had told her that they were urgent...If only she could find him!...She had seen two of the Indians at a distance that morning bringing in logs for the fires. But now there was not a sign of any Indian. She peered down the avenues, quiet in the blinding glare of the afternoon, and not a soul was to be seen. She felt very small and solitary and forlorn.

  Then she remembered the roof to which Luis had taken her. There she could hide herself and be at peace till sunset. At the thought her courage returned. She ran across the patch of sun which separated her from the rotunda, and plunged into its deep shadows...At the entrance lay the blocks which every night were used to make a door. She longed to wall herself up like a condemned nun, but each block required two men to lift...

  There was no light in the vast place except the shaft from the door, and a dimness far up which may have come from the crack in the roof. She groped in the far corner till she found the entrance to the tunnel...She tried to remember what Luis had done. They had crawled in for some yards, and then he had found an opening on the left-hand side. She ran her hand along the wall, and found such an opening, but the next second her hand was in the void. It was a shaft, not a passage...Very carefully she crawled a little farther along the main tunnel. Luis had said it was a trap, so she must not go too far. Again her hand found an opening in the left wall, and this time it touched solid floor and solid roof. She crept in, and to her joy found the first step of the staircase. Presently she could stand upright, and soon she was out on the barbican, with a fierce sun beating on her head, and the world at her feet, hot, intense, and coloured like blue steel.

  The trouble was to get out of the pitiless sun. She could only find shelter by lying flat under the parapet, and moving as the sun moved. She had eaten not a morsel at luncheon, and now that her immediate terror was abated, she began to wish she had. She was safe here — she must be safe. She would stay till nightfall, and then slip down and meet Luis. Her confidence returned, and she felt herself almost free.

  But there were still dregs of fear in her mind, as she remembered the animal faces of the card-players, and the cold inhumanity of Romanes, to whom she was only a counter, to be protected until its usefulness was gone...She looked every now and then over the parapet. She saw little figures cross and recross the avenue, but none had the slimness and the litheness of the Indians. Where were her deliverers? Luis had said that Archie would be there, but how in the name of all that was marvellous had Archie managed it? He must be somewhere within a mile or two, and she looked with a sudden friendliness at the circumference of forest. Yet the thought that Archie was near gave her a new nervousness. He too might be in danger...

  She fixed her eyes on a distant blue mountain and told herself that she and Archie were not really far from home, for the other side of that peak must be visible to watchers from Pacheco. She must have dozed, for she suddenly realised that the sun was behind the peaks, and that the swift tropical twilight had fallen. It was now time to nerve herself for action, for presently the Conquistadors would be sitting down to supper in their mess, and the Indians would come to block up the door. She wondered if, when they missed her from the mess, they would send her food, as they had done previously. She hoped so, for she was very hungry.

  Down the staircase she groped her way, and crawled back into the tunnel. She only knew that she had reached the rotunda by seeing far off a slant of amber dusk. It showed her the way to her bed, and beside it, to her delight, she found that food had been placed. It was not an appetising meal, for the commissariat of the camp was running low, but she ate it ravenously, and emptied the tin pannikin of water.

  Then she saw that the men had come to block the door. That gave her comfort, for they were Indians, Luis’s people. She watched the oblong of pale amethyst slowly lessen, and as the blocks rose the remaining daylight seemed to take on a deeper tint, till it was almost crimson. When that had gone, she would light her candle and await her deliverers.

  Suddenly there seemed to be a scuffle at the entrance. She heard a voice, a thick angry voice, and then the narrow gap above the blocks seemed to be filled — by a man’s body.

  Someone was clambering over — she heard a thud as he fell on the inner side...With a flash of dreadful illumination she knew who it was. The Bodyguard had cast lots for her, and this man had won...She screamed for help to the Indians outside the door, but they took no notice. Instead, they went on with the last blocks, and the crimson segment disappeared in utter blackness.

  Panic drove Janet’s fainting limbs into motion. Her one hope was to reach the tunnel, but in the instant darkness she had lost her bearings and she fluttered blindly. The newcomer, too, seemed at a loss. She could hear his hard breathing. Suddenly he lit a match, and she saw the face of one of the card-players, a dreadful face, bestial and pitiless.

  The sight was too much for her nerves, and once again her despairing cry for help rang out. The match flickered and died, but her voice had given him a clue, and she heard him moving nearer. He came slowly and cautiously, for there was no need of haste. He had the whole night in which to find her.

  All power seemed to have gone from her body, her throat was dry so that she could not utter a word, her feet were like lead, she had lost all sense of direction. Hopeless now to find the tunnel; she could only struggle vainly like a fly till the spider reached her. Already she felt his clutch on her. And then from her palsied lips came one last gasp of terror, for she suddenly felt herself caught in a man’s arms.

  But it was not her pursuer. Even her confused senses could still hear him stumbling towards her. A voice spoke low in her ears: “Janet, darling, I’m here! Archie!”

  Then many things seemed to happen at once. A circle of light sprang into being from an electric torch. She saw her pursuer stop in his tracks and blink. Then she saw his hand go to his side, and be pinioned there, and a pistol neatly snatched from it by someone behind him. And then between him and her a figure appeared, no Indian, but a stocky figure with bandy legs, a figure that whist
led through its teeth like a groom and addressed her enemy in a tongue which fell like music on her ears.

  “Sae it’s you, my mannie? I’ll learn ye to frichten a leddy.”

  There was a sound of a violent impact of fist on chin and then the rattle of a skull on hard stone.

  “That’ll keep him quiet till the morn,” said the same voice. “I’ve gi’en that wheasel the same as he got on the Corinna.”

  For a little time and space disappeared for Janet. Overpowering relief and the sense of Archie beside her brought a happy stupor. She was conscious of kissing and fondling the hand which guided her, and murmuring idiotic endearments. They seemed to be descending stone steps, and then following long winding passages. Somewhere there was a light, and she realised that they were a party of four; but more often they moved in profound darkness. Then it seemed to her that they ascended, not by steps, but in a long slanting tunnel. The close air freshened, and at last with a scramble they came out into the night under a sky ablaze with stars. Luis held up his hand to enjoin silence, but Janet had no wish to speak. She was hugging Archie’s arm as if to make sure that he was a bodily presence and not a dream.

  They were in a little stone courtyard, on the edge of the forest, and at the far southern end of the Tronos del Rey.

  It was the frontier of the jungle and creepers had encroached upon the stone, completely hiding the tunnel’s mouth, and making the courtyard look like a subsidence in the ruins.

  They were close to the camp, for voices sounded not a hundred yards away, and against the starlight they could see the pale flicker of fires.

  Luis signed to them to follow, and they scrambled out of the hollow into the forest, which was thick as moss, except for an occasional trail. “We must go carefully,” he whispered. “Carreras went out this evening to shoot for the pot. He may not have returned. It would not do to meet him.”

  Luis moved first with Archie at his heels, then Janet, and Hamilton brought up the rear. It was painful going, for chips and slivers of stone were everywhere embedded in the lush herbage and the stones were as unyielding as adamant. Janet felt her stockings and the fringes of her dress being slowly shredded. Then they reached an opening which she judged to be a trail. Luis took one look and then ducked his head, and the others crouched flat to conform.

  Janet wondered what was coming next. There was still the glow of sunset in the sky, and it made the aisle through which the trail ran a slender cleft of opaque unrevealing light. What came next was a dog. To her horror she found Carreras’s terrier breathing heavily at her shoulder. He had been trained not to bark, but he showed his recognition by shaking himself and sending the dew flying like a shower-bath. She glared at him, she threatened him, but the beast stood wagging his imbecile tail. He had found a friend, and was determined to let his master come up and share in the discovery.

  Luis did not wait for the meeting. He doubled back and clutched Archie’s arm. “The fellow will be here in a second,” he whispered. “We must show ourselves...You know the road...Here, take the hatchet...I will try to divert them. Once at Agua Secreta you are safe. Quick!”

  The next five minutes were not for Janet a period of very clear consciousness. She was dragged to her feet, pulled through what seemed to be a fine-meshed sieve of creepers, and landed in a narrow avenue cut as if with a knife between two walls of forest. Then she seemed to be made to halt, and she had the feeling as if alone she was exposed to someone’s gaze, while the rest were hidden...She heard a cry, heard a shot fired, heard other pistol shots from the direction of the camp...And then she found herself running faster than she had ever run before in her life.

  Luis was last and he was urging them on. They were being pursued — she heard a distant crashing in the under-growth — perhaps the trail twisted and someone was trying to take a short cut. Then Luis’s clear whisper followed them. “I leave you. You know the road...Do not for the love of God stop to fight...I do not think you will be followed...Say that I will be at Pacheco in thirty-six hours, no more. Adios!”

  She had no time to look behind, for Archie’s hand was dragging her, Archie whose game leg seemed to be performing miracles, but she had the sensation that Luis was no longer there. He had swerved to the right down a subsidiary path and was making mighty heavy going.

  His movements sounded like those of a bull rhinoceros; he was giving tongue, too, babbling loudly to himself. He will betray us all, she thought in a panic, and then she realised that this was his purpose. He was there to be followed...Far back she heard a different kind of cry, the shouting of angry men on a scent which they have missed and recovered.

  After that it seemed that for hours they struggled and plunged and slipped, always keeping to some sort of trail, but tripped up by creepers, or slithering on greasy earth, or edging painfully through acres of cruel thorn. She used to be famous for her good wind, and had been able to stride from Glenraden to the highest top of Carnmor without a halt. But that had been in clear hill air, with a bright world of salt and heather at her feet and no goad except her fancy. It was a different matter to run through this choking sodden forest, with life as the stake — Archie’s life and her own — maybe, too, the fortunes of the campaign.

  The girl kept her mind savagely upon a single purpose — to keep up with Archie, and to give him as little trouble as possible, for she knew by his laboured breathing that the strain must be terrible for a lame man.

  Hamilton, the leader, stopped. He was panting like a dog, but he had voice enough left to whisper hoarsely, “I hear nothing. Maister Lewis maun hae got the hale pack at his heels. They’ll no catch him this side o’ Martinmas. We maun be better than half road. Tak’ your breath, mem.”

  But the merciful respite seemed only to last for a second. Again they were off, and now they seemed to be ascending. The ground was harder. They passed over banks of dry gravelly soil, and in places the roots of the trees showed as in a pinewood, instead of being buried deep in rank verdure. Once even there was a shelf of layered rock, and she had to give Archie a hand. But the gain in elevation told them nothing of their position, for it was that murky mulberry dusk in which the foreground is just visible, but everything else an impenetrable blur.

  They seemed to reach a summit, where curiously enough the sky was darker than below. After that it was flat for a little, with thinner vegetation but many thorns — Janet felt her hands ache from their attentions. She was feeling a little more at ease. They were on the right road — Hamilton seemed to have no doubt about that — they could not be very far from their goal, and there was no sign of pursuit. Luis must have lifted the enemy cleverly off the scent. She wondered if he were safe...

  It was Archie who stopped suddenly and put his hand to his head. “Hamilton!” he panted. “Listen! Do you hear anything?”

  Janet pushed her hair away from her ears. Somewhere back in the forest there was a sound like a little wind. But the night was very still...She listened again, and in the heart of it she heard the unmistakable note of human speech...And then suddenly it sounded much nearer, not a hundred yards away: “Oh! Quick,” she cried. “They’re almost up on us.”

  She was not quite right, for the acoustics of the place were strange. Actually at the moment the nearest of the pursuers was at least a quarter of a mile off. But all three had felt the ominous proximity of the sound, and all in their different ways reacted to the spur of fear. Hamilton, being of a stocky build, could not quicken his pace, for he had come nearly to the end of his running resources; instead he slowed down, and his hand fiddled with his belt. He would have preferred to fight. Janet got her second wind, and felt an extraordinary lightness and vigour. It was she now who dragged Archie. Inevitably they passed Hamilton, so when they suddenly came to the brink of the gorge she was leading the party.

  It was the kind of spectacle which cuts short the breath for the sheer marvel of its beauty. From her feet the ground broke into a cliff, but a cliff not of stone but of soil, for it was all forested. The trees
were set on so steep a gradient that two yards from her she was looking into branches reached commonly only by high-flying birds.

  The angle was not less than sixty degrees, but some strange adhesive quality in the soil enabled it to cling to this difficult foundation and support life. But the miracle lay in the depth. In that luminous purple night it ran down from layer to layer of darkness, keeping an exact perspective, till it seemed that it had sunk for miles. The cleft must go to the centre of the globe, and yet a bottom could be detected, though not discerned. Somewhere at an infinite distance below there was water — the so-called Agua Secreta — strong water, too, for out of the deeps rose the murmur of a furious river.

  From Janet’s feet a bridge flung out into the void. It looked like a ship’s bowsprit hanging over dark oceans, for the eye could not see its further abutment. And such a bridge! It was made of slats and twined osiers and lianas, solidly made, and its making was not of yesterday. But there was no planking to hide the abyss. Between the slats showed the naked void, and the slats were each a pace apart.

  “On ye gang — ,” a hoarse voice spoke behind. “It’s the brig we maun cross. Haud fast by the side ropes, mem, and ye’ll no fa’. Sir Erchibald will keep haud o’ ye.”

  But Janet had no fear for herself. This lath strung across immensity was a beautiful thing...Suddenly one half of it seemed to become brightly gilt, and she realised that the rim of the moon had lifted above a corner of hill...And it meant safety! It was Archie she feared for, Archie with his crippled leg. She stepped cheerfully out on the bridge. “Hold tight, Archie dear, and go very slow. Balance yourself by my shoulder.”

  The crossing of that bridge was a comment upon the character of each of the three. Janet was in a kind of ecstasy. To be islanded between sky and earth was an intoxication, and every step was nearer home. If only Archie...! Archie, painfully groping his way, minded the vertigo of it not at all, but he realised, as she did not, how slowly they moved and how imperative was haste. As for Hamilton, the thing was to him pure torment, he was terrified half out of his senses, but he doggedly plugged along because there was nothing else to be done. He was praying fervently and blaspheming steadily, and prayer and blasphemy continued till the first shot was fired. After that he was more at his ease.