The Aztec Treasure-House

by Thomas A. Janvier

  XXXVII.

  THROUGH DARKNESS TO LIGHT.

  "I guess we're solid now, as far as bein' bothered by those sacreddevils goes," Young said, as we stepped down from the ledge of rock onwhich we had been standing; "but this ain't no time t' take no chances,an' th' sooner we see what show we've got for gettin' anywhere throughthat cave, th' better it'll be. An' we've got t' look after Rayburn.He's closter t' handin' in his checks t'-day than he's been at all. Justthink o' him keepin' still through all that row, an lettin' himself beyanked around like a bag o' meal without takin' any notice of it! Butthere's just a squeal of a chance for him if we do get clear away.Knowin' that he's safe 'll do him more good, even, than fresh air an'sunshine--an' oh Lord! how good fresh air an' sunshine 'll be, if everwe do strike 'em again!"

  When we descended the stair-way again to the little hollow in the rockwhere Rayburn was lying, we found that he still remained in his dullstupor and took no notice of our coming. Close beside were Pablo and ElSabio, huddled together for mutual support in this very trying passageof their lives. El Sabio, indeed, was a most melancholy and dejectedcreature, for his short commons and his long confinement had taken thespirit out of him pretty thoroughly; but for our purposes just then,when his tractability was very necessary to us, it was a piece ofgood-fortune that he had fallen into so low a way. As for Pablo, the boywas in so dazed a condition that I feared greatly he would wholly losehis wits.

  There was only a faint suggestion of light in that deeply hidden place,and Young struck a match that he might see to begin his explorations."Well, I'll be shot," he exclaimed, as the wax-taper shed its clearlight around us, "if here ain't a conductor's lantern hangin' up allready for us, an' a can o' kerosene oil!" As he lighted the lantern, andthe letters F. C. C. showed clearly on the glass, he added, in a tone ofstill greater amazement: "Ferro-Carril Central! Why, it b'longs t' oneo' th' boys on th' Central!--but how th' dickens did it ever get _here_?An' here's a lot of old clothes--th' sort o' rags th' low-down Greaserswear. An' I'm blest," he went on, as he picked up a scrap of paper fromthe floor, "if this ain't a Mexican Central ticket from Leon to Silao!It's dated last June, an' it's only punched once, so 't couldn't 'a'been used all the way. I say, Professor, am I asleep or awake?"

  As I examined the several articles which we had come upon so strangelyin this incongruous plate, a flood of light was let in upon my mind, andwith this came also the glad certainty that the way before us to freedomwas open and assured. My belief that the Priest Captain had been incommunication with the outside world no longer admitted of a doubt, forhere was absolute proof of it: the clothes which he wore when making hisexpeditions into the nineteenth century; the lantern that he had stolenin order the more easily to find his way through the cave; the railwayticket that he had but lately used. In an instant I had connected allthis with what the guardian of the archives had told me concerning thePriest Captain's habit of retiring for long periods of time to one ofthe chambers in which we had been imprisoned, and the whole matter wasas plain to me as day; and I knew now, that in order to guard againstdiscovery, he, or one of his predecessors, to whom this secret way mustalso have been known, had caused to be set in place the fastening bywhich the grating could be secured upon its inner side; which fastening,within that very hour, had been the means of saving our lives.

  "Well," said Young, dryly, when I had briefly explained these severalmatters, "I guess he won't pull th' wool over nobody's eyes any more!An' now you an' me 'll do some prospectin'. We must go back upstairs,before we pull out for good, an' bag what there is there that's worthcarryin' off; but th' first thing t' do is t' get Rayburn where he'll becomfortable an' safe. Until that's attended to we've got t' be carefulan' go slow; so we'll rouse up this fool of a Pablo, an' get it into hishead that if he hears anybody comin' he's t' knock th' plug from underMullins an' let him down, an' then chock him fast with a rockunderneath. It's not likely that anybody _will_ come, an' even if theydo, I don't think that they'll know th' trick about Mullins' tippin',for that's a point that I'll bet a whole kag o' beer th' Priest Captaindidn't give away t' nobody. I tell you, Professor, there wasn't anyflies on that old man, now was there? He was a wicked old devil, an'I'm glad I did for him; but he was just an everlastin' keen one, an' arustler from th' word go!"

  In the dazed condition in which he then was, we scarcely should haveventured to place Pablo in a position of such grave responsibility hadthere been any likelihood of his being called upon to perform the dutywith which we charged him; but we were well satisfied that to the PriestCaptain alone had been known the secret of the sliding door, and that,consequently, the need for closing the passage leading upward into thetreasure-chamber would not arise. Without any fear for Rayburn's safety;therefore, we left him lying in the little room at the foot of thestair-way, and thence went forth through a cleft in the rock--thatseemed to be a natural crevice, where the mountain was split apart--andso came into a natural cave of such great size that the light of thelantern was not sufficient to enable us to see its roof nor its fartherwall. Save that the well-defined path that we followed was continuouslysteep, we did not find walking difficult, for the fragments of rock withwhich the floor of the cave everywhere was strewn had been lifted asidecarefully, so as to make a smooth and easy way. And only in oneplace--where for a short distance the path skirted the edge of a blackgulf, in the depths of which we could hear the rush of water--was anypart of it dangerous.

  For near an hour we went onward, all the while steadily ascending; andthen, as we turned a corner, we saw a long way before us a faintlyluminous haze. It was so very faint that only by holding the lanternbehind us, and then closing our eyes for a moment, could we assureourselves that what we saw really was light at all; but when we turnedanother corner, presently, the light, though still faint, wasunmistakable; whereat Young gave a whoop of joy, and we quickened oursteps in our eager longing to behold the sunshine that we knew could notbe far away. Suddenly the path dipped downward, and then another turnbrought us into light so strong that the lantern no longer was needed toshow us where to tread; and by a common impulse we gave a great gladshout together and went onward at a run; and so, running and shoutinglike the crazy creatures that truly for the time being we were, we madeone turn more, and then beheld before us, reaching away broadly andopenly in a fashion to give one a sense of most glorious freedom, avastly wide plain, over which everywhere the blessed sunshine blazedfull and strong. As we stood together in the mouth of the cave for amoment in silence--for no words seemed strong enough to express thebursting gladness that was in our hearts--two short blasts of a whistle,wafted upward on the light breeze that was blowing towards us from theplain, sounded very faintly but clearly in our ears. Young started as heheard this sound, and as he turned towards me he held out his hand andsaid, in a voice that was husky and tremulous, "Professor, that's alocomotive whistle, an' th' d----n fool is--is whistlin' 'down brakes'!"And in these curiously chosen, yet not unmeaning words, did we celebrateour deliverance.

  When we returned to Rayburn--and as we now knew the way, and as almostthe whole of it was downhill, our return was accomplished rapidly--someof the joyous strength that we had gained seemed to be imparted to him.He opened his eyes as we stooped over him, and there seemed to be morelife in them than there had been through all that day.

  "Rouse up, old man!" Young cried cheerily. "We've struck th' trail outo' this cussed hole at last, an' we're goin' t' hike you right along towhere you'll get some of God's sunshine again, an' some air that's fitfor a white man t' breathe;" which words brought still more light intoRayburn's eyes, and a little color came into his pale cheeks as we toldhim of the open way that we had found to light and life.

  "Where's the Padre?" he asked, as we together raised the stretcher,while Pablo, holding the lantern and leading El Sabio, went on ahead ofus. Fortunately Rayburn could not see Young's face as he answered: "Th'Padre's--well, th' Padre's just gone on up th' line. You've got t' holdyour jaw, Rayburn. You ain't fit t' talk; an' while we'r
e packin' youalong we can't talk either. Come on, Professor; and you, Pablo," headded, in his jerky Spanish. "Be careful with that lamp or I'll breakthe head of you!"

  Although a good third of his flesh had wasted away, Rayburn would havebeen a heavy load for us to carry over level ground, even had we beenhale and strong. Worn as we then were by our prison-life, we foundcarrying him up that long steep path in the heart of the mountain aweary work that only the hope and joy that strengthened us enabled usto accomplish. As it was, we went so slowly, and made so many halts forrest, that the sun had sunk almost to the level of the distantmountains, wherewith that great plain was bordered to the westward, whenat last our toilsome journey was at an end. But we thought nothing ofthe heaviness of our labor as we saw the glad look that came into hisface when he gazed out over that broad expanse of sunlit landscape, andsnuffed eagerly the sweet fresh air, and so felt his soul grow lightwithin him as he realized that he once more was safe and free.

  In the mouth of the cave--within its shelter, yet where he could see outfreely, and so have constantly in his mind the comforting thought of hisdeliverance--we made a bed for him of soft pine-branches, which somenear-by trees gave us; and we took care that this couch should be sothick and so evenly laid that he would lie easily upon it; for we knewthat many days, perhaps even weeks, must pass before we could venture toput so heavy a strain upon his strength as would come when we carriedhim down that rough mountain-side, and so began our journey towards home.

  Fortunately, a little spring came out from the rock, clear and cool,just inside the cave; and game was so abundant on that mountain-sidethat Young came back presently from a foraging expedition with half adozen codornices, that he had come so close to as to shoot with hisrevolver, and a jack-rabbit that he actually had caught with his handsas it jumped up almost beneath his feet; which excellent fare made amost satisfying supper for all of us; and eating it so added toRayburn's strength--as we could tell by the fuller tones of his voice,and by his being able to move a little on his bed without our helpinghim--as to rouse in us a warm hope that the death that seemed so near tohim might yet be thrust away. Our chief concern, lest the shock thatwould come to him of knowing it should fairly kill him, was to hide fromhim for the present the knowledge that Fray Antonio was dead; and tocompass this end we plumply told him the flat-footed lie that the monkhad gone on in search of some town whence he might bring back horses andsupplies; and so, for a time, we laid at rest his doubts.

  In his own original way, also, Young tried to put heart into him. "Yousee, old man," he said, "you've just _got_ t' pull through. Think howd----d ashamed o' yourself you'd feel after you was dead when you had t'tell all th' folks in heaven that you was killed by nothin' better'n amis'rable chump of an Injun! That was what bothered poor old SteveHollis when he was handin' in _his_ checks--'t least it was th' samegeneral sort of idea. I guess you never knew Steve, did you, Rayburn? Hewas an old railroader--had been a-workin' on th' Old Colony one way andanother for more'n twenty years. When I knowed him he used t' run th'steamboat express from Boston t' Fall River--their boss train on thatblasted old road. Steve owned a house clost t' th' line just a littleway out o' Braintree; an' when 't was his day off he'd mostly slide downfrom Fall River on No. 2, an' walk out home from Braintree along th'track. Nobody ever know'd just how 't happened--Steve was th' soberestman I ever knowed; never drunk a drop o' nothin'--but one day, as he waswalkin' out home, No. 15, that was th' slow freight from Boston t'Newport, ketched him an' got in its work on him--an' that was th' end o'Steve. It didn't kill him right smack off, an' I went down t' see him;for I did think th' world of old Steve. He was a-layin' in his bed, an'I could see that he was a-most gone when I got there; but he chipperedup a little for a minute as I shook hands with him and ast him how hewas. He said he was poorly; an' then he kep' quiet for a while. Then hekind o' ketched his breath an' seemed t' want t' say somethin'. So Ibent over him, an' he said, in a kind of a whisperin' groan: 'Jus' thinkof it, Seth, what did it was th' slow freight! That's what cuts me;that's what cuts me the worst kind. I wouldn't a-minded if 't had beenth' express--them things will happen, an' they've got t' come. But hereI've been a-railroadin' for more'n twenty year, an' t' think o' _me_bein' busted by that d----n slow freight!' An' then he turned over, an'give a sort of a grunt, an' died."

  I am not sure that I myself should have selected this particular storyto tell to Rayburn just then; but the moral that it containedunquestionably was a sound one, and, in a way, was calculated to impressupon him strongly the conviction that his duty was to get well.