"Suppose you commence now, Dugald. Believe me, there is no time like the present. Here are the tools. They look quite antediluvian. Do you think now that it really was a flesh-and-blood Indian we saw here; or was it the ghost of some murdered priest? And has he been digging down here to excavate his own old bones, or have a peep to see that they are safe?"
"Archie," said Dugald, at last, as if he had not listened to a word of his companion"s previous remarks, "Archie, we won"t go shooting to-day."
"No?"
"No, we will go home instead, and bring Moncrieff and my brothers here. I begin to think this is no grave after all."
"Indeed, Dugald, and why?"
"Why, simply for this reason: Yambo has told me a wonderful blood-curdling story of two hermit priests who lived here, and who had found treasure among the hills, and were eventually murdered and buried in this very ruin. According to the tradition the slaughtering Indians were themselves afterwards killed, and since then strange appearances have taken place from time to time, and until we made a shooting-box of the ruin no Gauchos could be found bold enough to go inside it, nor would any Indian come within half a mile of the place. That they have got more courageous now we had ample evidence last night."
"And you think that--"
"I think that Indians are not far away, and that--but come, let us saddle our mules and be off."
It was high time, for at that very moment over a dozen pairs of fierce eyes were watching them from the cactus jungle. Spears were even poised ready for an attack, and only perhaps the sight of that ferocious-looking dog restrained them.
No one could come more speedily to a conclusion than Moncrieff. He hardly waited to hear Dugald"s story before he had summoned Yambo, and bade him get ready with five trusty Gauchos to accompany them to the hills.
"Guns, senor?"
"Ay, guns, Yambo, and the other dog. We may have to draw a trigger or two.
Sharp is the word, Yambo!"
In two hours more, and just as the winter"s sun was at its highest, we all reached the cactus near the old monastic ruin. Here a spear flew close past Moncrieff"s head. A quick, fierce glance of anger shot from the eyes of this buirdly Scot. He called a dog, and in a moment more disappeared in the jungle. A minute after there was the sharp ring of a revolver, a shriek, a second shot, and all was still. Presently Moncrieff rode back, looking grim, but calm and self-possessed.
There was no one near the ruin when we advanced, but the Indians had been here. The grave was a grave no longer in shape, but a huge hole.
"Set to work, Yambo, with your men. They have saved us trouble. Dugald and Archie and Donald, take three men and the dogs and scour the bush round here. Then place sentinels about, and post yourselves on top of the red dune."
Yambo and his men set to work in earnest, and laboured untiringly for hours and hours, but without finding anything. A halt was called at last for rest and refreshment; then the work was commenced with greater heart than ever.
I had ridden away to the red dune to carry food to my brothers and the dogs and the sentinels.
The day was beginning already to draw to a close. The sky all above was blue and clear, but along the horizon lay a bank of grey rolling clouds, that soon would be changed to crimson and gold by the rays of the setting sun. Hawks were poised high in the air, and flocks of kites were slowly winging their way to the eastward.
From our position on the summit of the red dune we had a most extended view on all sides. We could even see the tall waving poplars of our own _estancias_, and away westward a vast rolling prairie of pampa land, bounded by the distant _sierras_. My eyes were directed to one level and snow-white patch in the plain, which might have been about three square miles in extent, when suddenly out from behind some dunes that lay beyond rode a party of hors.e.m.e.n. We could tell at a glance they were Indians, and that they were coming as fast as fleet horses could carry them, straight for the hill on which we stood. There was not a moment to lose, so, leaping to the back of my mule, I hurried away to warn our party.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A RIDE FOR LIFE.
"Moncrieff!" I cried, as soon as I got within hail, "the Indians will be on us in less than half an hour!"
"Then, boy," replied Moncrieff, "call in your brothers and the men; they cannot hold the dune. We must fight them here, if it be fighting they mean. Hurry back, I have something to show you."
We had all returned in less than ten minutes. Greatly to our astonishment, we found no one in the pit now, but we heard voices beneath, and I hurried in and down.
They had found a cave; whether natural or not we could not at present say.
At one side lay a heap of mouldering bones, in the opposite corner a huge wooden chest. Moncrieff had improvised a torch, and surely Aladdin in his cave could not have been more astonished at what he saw than we were now!
The smoky light fell on the golden gleam of nuggets! Yes, there they were, of all shapes and sizes. Moncrieff plunged his hand to the bottom of the box and stirred them up as he might have done roots or beans.
This, then, was the secret the ruin had held so long--the mystery of the giant ombu-tree.
That the Indians in some way or other had got scent of this treasure was evident, and as these wandering savages care little if anything for gold on their own account, it was equally evident that some white man--himself not caring to take the lead or even appear--was hounding them on to find it, with the promise doubtless of a handsome reward.
Not a moment was there to be lost now. The treasure must be removed. An attempt was first made to lift the chest bodily. This was found to be impossible owing to the decayed condition of the wood. The grain-sacks, therefore, which formed a portion of the Gaucho"s mule-trappings, were requisitioned, and in a very short time every gold nugget was carried out and placed in safety in a corner of our princ.i.p.al room in the hunting-box.
The beasts were placed for safety in another room of the ruin, a trench being dug before the door, which could be commanded from one of our windows.
"How many hors.e.m.e.n did you count?" said Moncrieff to me.
"As near as I could judge," I replied, "there must be fifty."
"Yes, there may be a swarm more. One of you boys must ride to-night to the _estancia_ and get a.s.sistance. Who volunteers?"
"I do," said Dugald at once.
"Then it will be well to start without delay before we are surrounded.
See, it is already dusk, and we may expect our Indian friends at any moment. Mount, lad, and Heaven preserve you!"
Dugald hardly waited to say another word. He saw to the revolvers in his saddle-bows, slung his rifle over his shoulder, sprang to the saddle, and had disappeared like a flash.
And now we had but to wait the turn of events--turn how they might.
Dugald told us afterwards that during that memorable ride to the _estancia_ he felt as if the beast beneath him was a winged horse instead of his own old-fashioned and affectionate mule. Perhaps it was fear that lent him such speed, and possibly it was fear transmitted even from his rider. Times without number since we had come out to our new home in the Silver West my brother had shown what sort of stuff he was made of, but a ride like this is trying to a heart like oak or nerves like steel, and a young man must be dest.i.tute of soul itself not to feel fear on such an occasion. Besides, the very fact of flying from unseen foes adds to the terror.
Down through the cactus jungle he went, galloping in and out and out and in, himself hardly knowing the road, trusting everything to the sagacity of the wondrous mule. Oftentimes when returning from a day on the hills, tired and weary, he had thought the way through this strange green bushland interminably long; but now, fleetly though he was speeding on, he thought it would never, never end, that he would never, never come out into the open braeland, and see, miles away beneath him, the twinkling lights of the _estancia_. Many an anxious glance, too, did he cast around him or into the gloomiest shades of the jungle, more than once imagining he saw dusky figures therein with long spears ready to launch at him.
He is out at last, however; but the path is now loose and rough and stony.
After riding for some hundred yards he has to cut across at right angles to the jungle he has left. To his horror, a dozen armed Indians at that very moment leave the cactus, and with levelled spears and wild shouts dash onward to intercept him. This is indeed a ride for life, for to his immediate left is a precipice full twenty feet in height. He must gain the end of this before he can put even a yard of actual distance betwixt himself and the savages who are thirsting for his life. More than once he has half made up his mind to dare the leap, but the venture is far too great.
Nearer and nearer sweep the Indians. Dugald is close at the turning-point now, but he sees the foremost savage getting the deadly la.s.so ready. He must shoot, though he has to slacken speed slightly to take better aim.
He fires. Down roll horse and man, and Dugald is saved.
They have heard that rifle-shot far away on the _estancia_. Quick eyes are turned towards the braelands, and, dusk though it is, they notice that something more than usual is up. Five minutes afterwards half a dozen armed hors.e.m.e.n thunder out to meet Dugald. They hear his story, and all return to alarm the colony and put the whole place in a state of defence.
Then under the guidance of Dugald they turn back once more--a party of twenty strong now--towards the hills, just as the moon, which is almost full, is rising and shining through between the solemn steeple-like poplars.
To avoid the jungle, and a probable ambuscade, they have to make a long _detour_, but they reach the ruin at last, to find all safe and sound. The Indians know that for a time their game is played, and they have lost; and they disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as they came leaving not a trace behind.
The gold is now loaded on the backs of the mules, and the journey home commenced.