The thong tripped me as it dropped to my feet and I fell just in time to escape a spear that was hurled after me. Another, as I jumped up, slipped past my right ear, and a third slashed my hip. But I fled for dear life and in a jiffy was free of the house and heading across the enclosure toward the automobile.
They saw me coming and opened the door for me to tumble in. A spear crashed into the netted glass just as the door swung into place again, hurled with such force that its point stuck half way into the car and taught us we were not so secure within the dome as we had imagined. But now I lay panting upon the floor while Bryonia emptied a couple of revolvers into the crowd of my pursuers and brought them to an abrupt halt.
“Getting a little warm,” remarked Duncan Moit, calmly. “I’m not sure, Sam, whether we can stick out the day or not.”
“Glad you escape, Mars’ Sam!” said Nux, bending over me. “Bad hurt?”
“I guess not,” I answered, still breathing hard.
The black unfastened my clothing, which was saturated with blood just over the left hip. The spear had cut an angry looking gash in the flesh as a passing reminder of what it might do if better aimed, but fortunately the wound was not deep and on account of its location would cause me little trouble beyond a slight stiffness. Nux began to dress it as well as he could by tearing up a shirt for bandages and applying plenty of sticking plaster from the supply we had brought with us. I thought he made a very good job of it, being somewhat skilled in the treatment of flesh wounds myself.
I could imagine how furious the San Blas would be at my escape. They did not venture out into the open space after these two repulses, but hung around the doorways in an alert and vigilant way, being very sure that we could not get out of the enclosure and would be unable to defy them for any length of time.
Duncan rather expected the princess to appear, as she had promised in case of open warfare; but either she did not consider the emergency had yet arisen or she had been prevented from acting as she wished.
“I won’t go without her, though,” he muttered, decidedly.
“Tell me,” said I, “what is your object in wanting to wait until to-morrow before escaping from here? I can’t see that another day will bring any better condition to our captivity, and it’s a settled fact that we can’t get the machine out of this enclosure, in any event.”
“Perhaps I ought to explain,” he began, and then paused for a long time, as if absorbed in deep thought.
“Take your time, Duncan,” I remarked, impatiently.
He did not notice the sarcasm, but my voice aroused him and he said:
“Perhaps you remember that I once told you I used a glycerine explosive of my own invention to prime the engines of this automobile. In starting, a tiny drop is fed into the cylinders to procure the air compression which furnishes the motive power.”
“I remember; go ahead.”
“The feeding chamber is supplied with enough of this explosive to run the machine a year or more,” he continued; “but when I made it, in my own laboratory, the apparatus required was so complicated and expensive that I decided to manufacture an extra supply, to use in other machines which I intended to build later.”
“I see.”
“This reserve supply, in a powerfully concentrated form, I now have with me.”
“Oh! Isn’t it” dangerous, old man?” I asked, glancing around uneasily.
“Properly applied it might blow all Panama to atoms,” he returned vaguely. “But it cannot be accidently exploded while it remains in the place I have provided for it.”
“Where is that?”
He reached down and removed a square trap in the floor of the car. Leaning over, I discovered a small cylindrical jar, having the capacity of about a quart, which was suspended at one side of the driving shaft. The straps that held it in place allowing it to swing in any direction with the movement of the machine, but any sudden jar was impossible.
“Is it like nitro-glycerine?” I asked, eyeing the cylinder with an involuntary shudder.
“Not at all,” replied the inventor, calmly closing the trap again. “It is a much more powerful explosive, in its concentrated form, but may be diluted to any strength desired. The mechanism I have invented for its application renders it perfectly harmless when exploded in atomic quantities in the engines, although ordinary concussion would, as in the case of nitro-glycerine, explode the condensed contents of the extra cylinder.”
“I think I now comprehend your idea,” said I.
“Yes, it is very simple. Under cover of darkness I propose to bore a hole in that barrier and fill it with my explosive. In the morning I will blow up the wall and in the excitement that follows run the machine through the gap and escape.”
“Very good!” I exclaimed, joyfully. “Then all we need do is to keep these Indians at bay until we have an opportunity to do the job.”
“Otherwise,” said he, musingly, “I would have to throw some of the explosive at the wall, and that attempt might prove as dangerous for us as are the fierce San Blas themselves.”
The Indians seemed for some time unwilling to resume the attack. It was the middle of the afternoon before the king sent a messenger from his council chamber to say that all friendship had now ceased and we must consider ourselves completely in his power. If the Senator Nux and the Honorable Bryonia would leave the village alone and on foot, Nalig-Nad would guarantee their safe conduct to the border, and thus they would be permitted to escape. The white men and their devil-machine were alike doomed, and could in no way survive the vengeance of the Techlas. And, unless Nux and Bry abandoned us at once, they must perish with us.
This proposition enabled us to gain the desired respite. Bryonia pretended to consult with Nux and then answered the messenger that they would decide the matter at daybreak the following morning. At that time the final answer of the two kings would be given to Nalig-Nad, and they intimated that they might possibly decide to abandon the miserable whites and save their own skins.
Whether this proposition was satisfactory or not to the king and his council did not appear; but the San Blas evidently decided to wait, for they did not molest us again that day.
As night approached we were somewhat worried lest they should resume the attempts to burn us; but they must have been satisfied of the impossibility of such a proceeding. No bonfires were lighted, which suited our plans admirably.
The moon, however, was brilliant during the first part of the night, and by its rays we could see that watchers were maintained in several places, so we were unable to do more than restrain our impatience as best we might. Moit raised the trap and carefully removed the cylinder that contained the explosive from its suspended position, placing it on the seat beside him. The very sight of the thing filled me with terror, and both Nux and Bry moved as far away from it as possible — as if that would do any good if it went off. But the inventor had handled it so often that he did not fear it as we did, and taking an empty glass bottle that was about as big around as your little finger he unscrewed the cap of the cylinder and calmly filled the bottle from its contents.
I watched him as if entranced, and thought the liquid resembled castor oil in color and consistency. When the bottle was filled Duncan corked it and put it in his inside pocket, afterward replacing the cylinder and strapping it into place.
And now he rummaged in his box of tools and took out a brace and a long bit that was about a half inch in diameter. He also picked out a piece of red chalk and placed that too in his pocket.
We were all ready, now, but had to wait, although the strain began to tell upon our nerves.
Finally the moon passed behind the king’s house and sank so low that the building cast a black shadow over the enclosure, throwing both the automobile and the barricaded archway into intense darkness.
“In an hour more day will break,” whispered Duncan in an anxious voice. “We must work quickly now, or we are lost.”
He started the machine moving so s
lowly that it merely crept toward the wall. The watchers had doubtless retired, for we heard no sound of movement in the sleeping village.
When we had approached quite near to the barricade Moit softly opened the rear door, left the car, and crawled on hands and knees to the wall. We showed no light at all, and from the automobile I lost sight of our friend altogether.
But presently I could hear the faint sound of the augur as it ground its way into the clay wall. Duncan started at about the middle of the barricade, but bored his hole slanting downward, so that the explosive would run into the cavity without danger of escaping. It did not take him more than a few minutes to complete his task, and before long he was back in the car again, holding the empty bottle before our faces with a smile of satisfaction.
And now the machine crept inch by inch back to its former position, and we were ready for the day to break.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WE ASTONISH OUR FOES
SLOWLY THE SUN arose, and as its first rays lighted the cloudless sky Ilalah came gliding from the palace and sprang lightly up the steps that Duncan had let down in order to receive her. Once she was in the car we all breathed easier, and the inventor especially showed his content and exultation.
“Now let them come!” he cried; and each of us felt that the sooner the suspense was over the better we would like it.
King Nalig-Nad gave us plenty of time, though, and we had breakfast while we waited, the princess accepting her share with gracious enjoyment of a meal quite novel in her experience. She was so unaffected and so charming in her manner that already we began to consider her one of us.
At last the king and his chiefs emerged, and we could see by their stern faces that a climax in our adventure had arrived.
Moit was ready for them. He backed the machine around until it was facing the barricade and as far removed from it as the enclosure would allow. He had made Ilalah crouch low on the floor of the car, so that her people would not discover her presence.
A spokesman advanced from the group of warriors and demanded Bryonia’s promised answer.
I opened a side window and said, boldly and in a loud voice, that we had played with the San Blas people long enough.
“You annoy us with your foolish demands,” I added, “and we cannot bother to remain with you longer. Had you been friendly, we would have favored you; but you are silly children, and so we leave you.”
As I finished speaking Duncan opened the window in front of his steering wheel and aimed a shot from his revolver at the red chalk mark on the barricade that marked the location of the explosive. There was no result, so he fired again, and still again.
The natives, at first furious at my insults, now paused to wonder what the big white slave was shooting at, and I saw that the inventor’s nervousness or lack of marksmanship was likely soon to plunge us into a deal of trouble. Leaping to his side I pushed him away and took careful aim with my own revolver.
A crash that seemed to rend the very air followed. The machine was hurled backward against the king’s palace, from which a rain of mud bricks and bits of wood rattled down upon us, while all the open space of the enclosure was filled with falling debris.
Shrieks of terror and pain followed, while we, who had all been dumped in a heap on the floor of the car, scrambled up and took note of what had happened. The wall had vanished, and only a ragged depression in the earth remained to mark the place where the barricade had lately stood.
None of us was injured, fortunately, and as soon as Duncan had assured himself that Ilalah was alive and unhurt he sprang to the lever and the machine bounded forward and skimmed light as a feather over the littered ground.
I tried to look out and wave an adieu to King Nalig-Nad; but we were off like a shot across the meadows and all I could see was a mass of excited natives rushing here and there in wild confusion.
After fifteen minutes of this terrific speed Moit moderated our pace, for we were miles from the village and pursuit was impossible.
“Where now?” he asked, his voice seeming to indicate that he cared not a rap, since we had managed to escape with the beautiful princess.
“It will be well for us to find that valley of diamonds as soon as possible,” said I, “and secure our plunder before the king can raise the alarm and head us off.”
“All right; where is it?” he demanded.
I produced the map and pointed out the location of the valley, which appeared to lie in a fork of the river, far to the south.
“We are now somewhere to the east of the king’s village,” I observed. “The hilly ground ahead of us rises to small mountains between here and the sea; but if we turn south there is open country clear through to the forest-clad mountain range, and when we reach the forest we can follow its edge until we come to the diamond valley.”
“That is clear enough,” replied Moit, looking over my shoulder.
So we turned south, and presently came to a stream with such steep banks that we could not cross it. The map had not prepared us for this, so we kept to the eastward, endeavoring to find a crossing, until we reached a marsh, and found our wheels sinking into a soft and treacherous bog.
We backed out just in time to avoid serious trouble, and had to go north again, skirting the marsh slowly and with care until we were once more in the hills we had recently left.
This was decidedly annoying, and we appealed to Ilalah.
“Is there not a path from here to the mountains?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said; “there must be many paths.”
“Do you know them?”
“Not to go to them from here. Often I and my women cross to the great forest from our village; but we seldom come here at all.”
“I don’t blame you,” growled Moit. “This part of your country isn’t worth photographing. What shall we do now, Sam?”
“I don’t like to go back,” said I, studying the map with a suspicion that its maker had never been in this section at all. “But we might try these hills. If we could find a path over them it might lead us around the marsh, and then we would be all right.”
“How do you know? There may be more marshes,” he suggested.
“It may be. This is all guess work, it seems — map and all. But if we reached the ocean we could run along the beach at low tide, and make good time.”
“It is certainly worth a trial,” he said; “and if we fail we cannot be any worse off than we are at present.”
I doubted that the automobile would be much of a hill-climber, because until then I had a notion that the heaviest machines, with the most power to move their weight, could climb the easiest. But a few minutes removed that erratic idea from my mind. We skimmed up the slopes as lightly as an ibex, and went down them much more safely than a heavy machine under the strain of brakes could do. And so, winding around this hill and over that, we kept on at an easy pace until the breath of salt air could be felt and we knew we were close to the sea.
But now the hills became rocky and more difficult. One good sized mound stood right in our way, and after a close inspection of it through our telescope (for Moit seemed to have forgotten nothing in fitting up his automobile) we saw a broad ledge running around its right side which promised a way through to the coast.
By now it was after midday, for much time had been consumed in seeking a path through this wild and unknown country. So we halted for luncheon, and as we ate I said to Ilalah:
“How did you learn to speak such fine English, Princess, when your people have always hated the whites and tried to drive them from your dominions?”
“The king my father,” she answered, “is very wise. From his captives he has learned that half of the people of the world speak English. So he thought it would be best for some of the Techlas to speak English too. One day our watchers brought to the king a man and a woman, who were of the English but could speak a little Spanish too. My father promised them life if they would teach us to speak the English tongue. So the man taught
the king and his noble chiefs each day in the courtyard of the palace, while the woman taught the foreign tongue to me and my favorite attendants in our own rooms. It was a long task and a hard one, but after many moons some of us could speak and understand the English well enough.”
“Did you also learn to read?” Duncan asked.
“No. My father says written words are lies, for when you read the signs you cannot read the speaker’s eyes and know that he speaks truth. The Techlas do not love the sign language, and will not have it.”
“That is foolish,” I said. “If you cannot read, you cannot know what is going on in the world.”
“And that is what we do not wish to know,” she answered, smiling. “My people say that to hear of other people is to make unhappiness. We live only our own lives; so why should we care what happens in other lives in other countries?”
It struck me there was some sense in that, if their own lives were sufficient to content them.
“What became of the white man and woman who taught you?” asked Duncan.
“After we had learned to speak their tongue my father killed them,” she answered simply.
“Then he, too, lied,” I said.
“Not so. He promised them life if they would teach us, and they lived. But he could not promise them life for all time, because all life is uncertain.”
“So he killed them?”
“Yes; having no longer need for them. They were white, and the Techlas hate all white people.”
“Because of their color?”
“Because they once robbed our people and drove them from their homes.”
“Listen, Ilalah,” said Duncan, earnestly; “the white race that wronged your people was the Spanish race; but there are many whites that are not Spaniards — any more than are all Indians Techlas. So you have no reason to hate us, who are not Spanish and have never wronged you.”
“I do not hate you,” she answered, taking his hand and pressing it fondly. “I love you.”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 661
