When we got to the foot of the stairs my comrade put out the light, and I, laying my hand on his shoulder, as he bade me, followed softly at his heels in the dark for some paces, when we came to a door that stood ajar. Here he paused and peered out carefully; then, pushing the door open, he passed out into the open.
He gave me the bag of food to hold, lifted up his finger as a sign to me to wait there, and then entered the tower again by another door in that part where the guard lay; and so I stood, with the drawn knife in my hand and my eyes on the lookout for a foe, till he returned with a sword in each hand and a knife stuck in his belt. He seemed to have been gone an age, but I believe he was no more than ten minutes at the outside; but I was consumed with impatience.
He put one of the swords in my hand, and signed to me to follow. Then we threaded our way betwixt the tower and the huts, and coming to the end of a little alley he again peers out into the space beyond, first to the right and then to the left, very carefully, and seeing no one (for the Portugals here lay within doors because there was no turf, as in the other stations, but only hard, rocky ground), he nudged me with his elbow and struck out pretty briskly to the gate he had previously set ajar, which we passed, and so got out without discovery, to our great comfort.
Our road lay up the hills on the other side of the valley, and a rough and troublesome way it was by reason of the loose stones and deep holes which in certain parts, where the rocks shut out the light of the stars on either hand, were like so many pitfalls. Yet I was too light of heart to heed the bruising of my shins a farthing, though my comrade did curse prodigiously, spite of his saying he would not speak for a league, as I have told.
When we had gone about an hour, my comrade, as I call him, after coming nigh to break his neck over a rock, sits him down on a rock, saying we might now well afford to fetch our breath and rub our shins for a space. So now, sitting down beside him, I begged he would loose his tongue to satisfy my earnest anxiety.
"Well," says he with a sigh, "I am not used to this business, and 'tis a long story. Howsomever, as you desire it, here goes. My name is Matthew Pennyfarden, and I was born in the village of Newlyn, near Penzance, in Cornwall, in the year of our Lord one thousand five hundred and ninety-four."
"Nay," says I, "you may skip thirty-three years of your adventures, and come to what took place when, you first saw my cousin, Lady Biddy Fane."
"Lord love you, master," says he, "that simplifies the job vastly" (he was a sly rogue of some humor). "Well, then, you must know that when I came to the station yesterday afternoon with four other slaves, burdened with gold muck from that part of the valley where the mines lie, our factor tells me that the merchant Senhor de Pino would speak with me; whereupon I goes to the factor's office with him, and there De Pino asks me if I could write English and would earn a jar of wine; to which I made reply that I could do the one as readily as I would the other, seeing I was two years an attorney's clerk before I was so foolish as to quit my employ and run away to sea, and was now as dry as any limekiln. On this he sets me down before a table, with an inkhorn and a sheet of paper for my work, and tells me in his own tongue what he would have writ in mine. When I had done this, he goes over the writing with me a dozen times, questioning as to this word and doubting as to that, scratching out here and writing in there, till we could find no further room for improvement, when he gives me a fresh sheet of paper and has it all writ out again for fair. So, having come to an end of the business, he orders the factor to give me a jar of wine, as he had promised, and send me back to the mine. Now a man can not serve the devil without learning the smell of brimstone, and I had been long enough with my attorney to get a pretty keen scent for mischief; wherefore, as I went back to my accursed mine, turning this affair over in my mind, I came to a pretty fair understanding of what lay at the bottom of this letter-writing. Yet, to make sure, I turns out of my way (being alone, for the rest had gone back with their empty baskets while I was writing the letter)—I goes about, I say, to sneak up among the rocks to where I could get a fair view of the station without being seen. There I had just posted myself when I see the Portugals bearing a man tied up neck and crop to the guardhouse, and says I to myself, 'That's Cousin Pengilly, or I'm a Dutchman.' When you were clapped up and the Portugals had come back from the guardhouse, the mules were brought out and packed, and one part of the train was sent on, while the other waited in readiness to start, which perplexed me somewhat till ten minutes later, when a female was led out by De Pino and seated on a mule, and that part of the cavalcade set out pretty briskly, as if to overtake the other. Then I hit upon it that De Pino had practiced this stratagem to make your cousin believe you had gone on first, and hasten her departure from the station. But I pray you, master," says he, breaking off and opening the bag of victuals, "do pick a bit, for I warrant you have had nothing betwixt your lips since you was clapped up—have you, now?"
"You are right," says I, falling to with a relish; "but go on."
"Ay," says he, "I guessed as much. They served me that same way when I first came into captivity, starving me till I was too weak to make resistance, and glad enough to accept the work of a slave that I might fill my belly. And surely that was the fate they intended for you. And this did put me in mind not to touch a drop of the wine, lest a taste might tempt me to drink all, but to leave it hid up in that rock and go back to my work dry, and also to set aside my supper when it was served out to us at sunset."
"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed, "no wonder you drank so heartily when we were in the tower."
"Ay," says he, "I overcame the flesh as long as I could, but I could hold out no longer."
"And you have fasted full as long as I have, by the same token," says I.
"You've hit it again," says he; "but that did not call for such courage as t'other, for I would rather fast a whole day than go dry an hour."
This fellow's generosity touched my heart, and I would not eat another morsel, nor let him speak, till he had eaten his fair share of the food. And now I saw why he had been so loth to begin a long history with the bag of victuals untouched.
When we had come to the end of our meal, my comrade proposed we should move on; "for," says he, "I care not how I knock my ribs against the rock now that I have something within me to resist the shock."
When we had got on our way again, and were come to a fairly level part of the road where we could converse without inconvenience, I asked my comrade if there was any truth in that letter concerning soldiery being sent by Dom Sebastian to recover us.
"Lord love you!" says he, "not a word; 'twas all a plan of De Pino's invention. But tell me, master, how you came to fall into the hands of such a villain."
When I told him briefly my history, he considers awhile, and then says he:
"You have naught to fear from Sebastian; for though he is as treacherous as any other Portugal, and not one of them is a true man, yet have these rogues a certain kind of fair dealing amongst themselves, and having sold you to De Pino he would not go back on his bargain, though Rodrigues should offer twice as much to get you back as Dom Sebastian received for parting with you."
"Then," says I, "you believe Dom Sebastian sold us to De Pino?"
"I am as certain of that as I am that De Pino sold you to our factor."
"And how are you certain of that, my friend?" says I.
"Because he did not stick his dagger into you when you were asleep. But for his avarice, you would not be alive now, you may be sure. A pretty taking our factor will be in when we find you flown; 'tis as good as twenty pieces of eight out of his pocket. We must look to it, master, that he doesn't catch us, for certain it is he will hunt us."
"What would he do if he caught us?"
"You might get off with a flogging and a pretty long spell of starvation; but he'd flea me, as he has before; and once is enough for a lifetime, as you would agree if you knew what it was like."
"You have spoken before of this fleaing," says I; "what do you mean?"
"If there was light I would show you my back for a sign. I've had a piece of skin stripped off my body an ell long and an inch wide."
"Good God!" says I, "is such barbarity possible?"
"Ay," says he, "and worse. I'll be fleaed rather than have the soles of my feet roasted if he gives me my choice."
Only to hear of this wickedness made me sick, and I could say nothing for some minutes.
"Tell me, Matthew," says I, when I had got over my qualm, "why you risked such a fearful punishment to liberate a man you had never seen?"
"Because you was an Englishman," says he stoutly. "Lord love you, master, I knew I should find you a true man and a kind friend."
"But," says I, "couldn't you as well have made your escape without me as with me?"
"No," says he, "for I'd as leave hang myself on a tree ere I started as be brought to that end by the misery of wandering alone in the woods. Look you, master, afore you go any further," stopping me, "there's time to get back to the station, and return to the guardhouse, while the Portugals are still in a log-sleep, and I would have you understand what escape means. It means hardships, and suffering, and solitude. We daren't go near a town, for fear of the Portugals; and we daren't go near the Indian villages, for every white man is hated by them, with a very good reason. There's fleaing on one hand, and death on the other; and we've got to live betwixt 'em as best we may. Take time for reflection and choose without concern for me."
"Nay," says I, "it needs no reflection to choose between freedom and slavery"; and taking him by the hand, I drew him onwards.
"You are an Englishman, master, and I love you," says he, "and I shall love you still more when your hair grows a bit, and you look less like a Portugal; for I do loathe the very resemblance of those accursed men."
"Surely," says I, "there must be some good men amongst them?"
"Not to my knowledge," says he. "There was one that I thought a decent sort of a fellow; and he grumbling every day to me of his estate, which was little better than a slave's, I opened to him a design for escaping together. He betrayed me; for he was naught but a spy set to that purpose by our factor, who would test me. And so I got fleaed for trusting a Portugal; but I trust none henceforth. As for that," adds he, "we shall have no need to trust 'em, for we two shall be company enough for each other, I warrant."
"We two?" says I; "nay, we shall be three."
"As how?" says he.
"Why," says I, "are we not on our road to rescue my cousin from the hands of Lewis de Pino?"
"No," says he, stopping again; "that are we not. For we're giving De Pino as wide a berth as I can contrive. Our factor will set out on that path as soon as he finds you flown."
"Friend," says I, "'tis for you to choose betwixt going on with me to the rescue of my cousin or taking me back to the station."
He tilted his hat forwards, and, scratching his head, was silent a minute; then, in a grumbling kind of voice, he says:
"What a plague do we want with a female?"
"Would you suffer her to go into slavery?" says I.
"They like it," says he sullenly. "Not at first, but after a bit. She'll be treated well, and I count she won't thank you from taking her away from a fine house and rich gowns to wander about in the woods without a roof to her head or a whole rag to her back."
"Nor matter for that," says I; "she shall be taken out of the Portugal's hands if I live."
"Well," says he, a little more cheerfully, "if it is to rob the Portugal, I shall be less loth; and to oblige you, more willing. We must turn back, howsomever, to those horrid rocks again."
We turned about, and retraced our steps in silence for a while.
"Don't take it amiss, master," says he presently, "if I'm a little bit downhearted at the prospect of having a lady's society; but I've had so much of that sort of thing these last ten years that I shouldn't be sorry if I never saw another female."
"How's that?" says I.
"Why, master," says he, "I'm married."
"And you can quit your wife without regret?" says I.
"It ain't a wife I'm quitting without regret," says he; "it's twenty or thirty."
I asked him to explain this matter; which he did forthwith, telling me that all the slaves in those mines were women, and that when one wounded herself, or fell sick by overwork, so that to save her life it was necessary she should lay up for a time, she was forthwith married to him. This strange custom perplexed me until I came to perceive the motive.
"Have you any children?" says I.
"Children!" says he; "Lord love you, I've got sixty if I've got one. But you can't expect a father to be very partial to his children when there so many of 'em. I give you my word, I don't know Jack from Jill; and they're all orange-tawney."
In this discourse we retraced our steps, and crossing the valley (yet wide of the station) we ascended again that chain of hills crossed the day before; for Lewis de Pino, as I was now informed by Matthew, had turned out of his road to sell me and traffic for gold; and after a long and painful march we came about daylight to the woods.
Here we rested, though against my inclination, being tormented with apprehensions concerning my dear Lady Biddy; but Matthew was pretty nigh spent with fatigue, having less strength than I, and none of that terrible anxiety which pricked me onward. Thus, in one way and another, was a good deal of precious time lost.
When Matthew perceived that my impatience was becoming intolerable to me, he rose, and we once more pushed on. Yet he had a difficulty to keep pace with me, and from time to time he would remonstrate at my pace, saying, "Not so fast, master—not so fast; you forget that your legs are a quarter of a yard longer than mine," and the like.
The road still skirted the mountains pretty high up, yet still amidst the woods, whence now and then we caught a glimpse of the river shining below, very sweet and peaceful in the gray light of the morning.
"Now, master," says Matthew, when we had gone about a couple of leagues along this road—"now we shall do well to quit this road, and make our way as best we may through the woods; for I reckon we are getting nigh a station, and at any turn are likely to be spied."
Accordingly we struck into the wood, and none too soon, for ere we had made a hundred yards we were brought to a stand by the furious barking of a dog.
"If we can't silence that brute we are undone," whispered Matthew, "for they are trained to hunt down runaways, and will not quit their quarry till the huntsmen are come up with it."
Presently the barking ceased for a minute, and we heard the voices of men egging the dog on; yet could we see neither one nor the other for the thick growth, though their cries sounded no further off than a couple of hundred yards or so.
"Master," says Matthew, very much crestfallen, "promise me one thing."
"Ay," says I, "and you may depend on it I will keep my word."
He pressed my hand and nodded; then says he:
"Promise me that if I am taken, and you see a chance to pass your sword through me, you will put an end to my life."
"Nay," says I, shrinking before such a cruel possibility, "things will not come to that pass."
"Promise me, all the same," says he, very earnestly.
"You have my promise, friend," says I, though I would not have given it had I foreseen what he was about to ask.
"Good," says he. "I could lose another ell of my skin without much more than a day's howling; and I believe I could stand having my feet roasted, after the first scorching had taken my senses away; but I couldn't endure to be taken back a slave and lose my freedom."
I felt for the poor fellow with all my heart, sympathizing with his love of liberty, till he added, in a still more melancholy tone:
"I am not a family man."
Then I felt as if I must laugh, despite our peril, for it appeared that he dreaded being restored to his wives and children more than all the tortures the Portugals could inflict, and preferred death. Yet I am now inclined to think this reason was but an afterthought of his, and that he merely put it forward to hide his grave dread by way of pleasantry; for I have remarked that men of humor will in their most painful moments put forward a jest, when at another time they would be silent. So I have seen some jest over their disease when they know it to be mortal, and others even who have died with a pleasantry at their own expense on their lips.
All this time we stood in the midst of great feather-plants[2]as high as my shoulder, hoping the dog would come nigh enough for us to cut him down ere we were spied by the men, who, we doubted not, had muskets to defend them; also we dared not move, lest we should be heard by the dog or be seen by the men. Presently the barking and the sound of voices went further away, as if the dogs had got on our track and were hunting it back the way we had come; then the barking ceased altogether, to our great content, for we made sure thereby the scent was lost, and the chase given up.
"Now," says Matthew, "let us put our right leg foremost and get down to the river as best we may, for if we get t'other side of that unseen we may laugh at dogs and Portugals."
"Nay," says I, "go if you will, but I can not get away from this station until I know whether my dear cousin be there or not. You live for freedom," adds I, "but I live for something more than that."
"No need to tell me that," says he. "Lord love you, master, do you think I don't know what's the matter with you? Trust me, I'll play you no scurvy trick, though I don't relish the society of females. Do as I wish you, and believe me I am thinking as much of your welfare and happiness as my own. But, for Heaven's sake, do not let us waste time a-talking here like so many attorneys. You shall have all the explanation you need when we get t'other side of the water."
I felt sure of this good fellow's honesty, and believing his judgment better than mine, knowing more of these parts and the ways of Portugals than ever I did, I yielded to his persuasions, and we scuttled down the hillside as quickly as we might for the obstructions that pestered us more and more as we advanced. For in the lower sides of these hills, towards the bottom, where the sun burns fiercer, the soil is moister, and a greater depth of earth lies over the rock, the growth is prodigiously thick; and besides the mass of shrubs upon the ground that one must pick one's way through not to be torn in pieces, the trees are all netted together with lianas as stout as a ship's tackle; brambles, briars, and hanging vines of a hundred sorts; so there is no way betwixt them but what a man may cut for himself with his sword.
"Give me a valley like that we have left behind, where there is naught but stones and rocks," says Matthew; "for though you may break your shins one moment and your nose the next, yet can you make some headway. But here," says he, "no man can roll down a hundred yards without setting foot to the ground. Howsomever, we're shut of the dog for our consolation."
Scarce were these words out of his mouth when they were forcibly contradicted by a fierce barking close in our rear; and turning about we spied the brute (as big as a wolf and as horrid) bounding towards us. But seeing us prepared with our swords to cut him in pieces, he stops short. Nor would he anyhow permit us to get near him (though Matthew, to tempt him, hid his sword behind him, and made forward with his hand out, saying "Poor doggy" very civilly, as though he would caress him), but backing when we advanced towards him, approaching as we went on, the dog contrived ever to keep well out of our reach, all the while barking to be heard a mile off.
"This will never do," says I; "the Portugals will be down on us directly."
"Ay," says he; "do you cut a way through the briars, while I keep this brute off."
So I hacked away with all my might at the lianas, while Matthew occupied himself with the dog, sometimes in Portuguese, commanding him (as I judged) to go home in a tone of authority, or entreating him mildly to come near and get a chop for his pains; but all to no purpose, except that he kept him from doing us a mischief with his fangs.
"Go home, you beast!" cries he: and then in the same breath, "Would we were back in my old valley, master: I'd brain you with a rock in a twinkling. But here is nothing to hurl at the cursed beast. Nice old doggy, come here!"
But now he had to hold his peace, for we could hear in the woods above us the voices of Portugals crying to one another, and shouting encouragement to the dog; nor dare I chop our way further, lest the flashing of the sword should be seen above the growth about us, and bring a shower of musket-balls upon us.
The only thing that saved us from immediate discovery and apprehension was that our pursuers found the same difficulty in advancing that we had overcome, and had to cut their way to where they heard the barking of the dog.
"If we could only silence that vile dog!" whispered Matthew, grinding his teeth.
"Ay," says I, "but how may we do that?"
"I see but one way," says he, "and that not very promising, but 'tis better than to wait here and be shot. Let us go back the way we have come."
"Why," says I, "that is but to offer ourselves the sooner to the Portugals."
"Nay," says he, "they are still a pretty fair distance off. Come and do as I ask you."
"Lead on, friend," says I. "You are better acquainted with this warfare than I."
So Matthew started at once to go back up the hill by the way we had cut through the growth, which did seem to me the rankest folly in the world. And what made it look worse was that, instead of trying to pacify the dog, he enraged it more than ever by thrusting at it with his sword, spitting at it, etc., but in betwixt he gave me instructions, and opened out his designs.
"You see the big tree on your right hand in front?" says he.
"Ay," says I.
"Get behind me, and when I pass that tree slip behind it and wait ready with your sword. The dog knows me, and takes no note of you."
There was no time to say more, for he had come abreast of the tree, and here he did draw the dog into a greater rage than ever, so that (as he had directed) I slipped behind the tree unobserved. And now, seeing Matthew's excellent design, I waited with my sword raised above my head.
After he had gone forward another two or three paces, Matthew begins to draw back, all the while gibing and jeering at the dog, who was now so furious that he even ventured to snap at the sword-blade when Matthew thrust it forward; and so step-by-step Matthew falls back until, passing me a couple of paces, the dog comes snapping and snarling forward after him till he is fairly within my reach, when with one swift blow I did cut him right through the loins clean in two halves.
Now having slain the dog, as I have shown, we crouched us down, that we might not be seen, feeling pretty secure; for those who pursued were a good way to the north of the path we had cut for ourselves, and unless by accident they hit upon that, they might hack and hew for a whole week (now there was no dog to betray our whereabouts) without coming nigh us. Indeed, as the old saying goes, 'twas like searching of a needle in a bottle of hay, with this addition—that they who searched were no bigger than the needles they sought. As we squatted there we could plainly see them chopping at the growth to make a passage (which was a comforting assurance they had not hit upon the alley we had made), together with much cursing and swearing; very grateful also to our ears, as showing they liked not their business, and crying out to the dog, who, for aught they knew, had started some game or was busy battening upon his prey.
For some time this uproar continued, and at one moment it seemed to be coming perilously near; but in the end they overshot us, going down the hill some way below. Then they gave over shouting, and we heard no more of them, by which we judged they had given up the attempt to find us or the dog in despair, and were gone back the way they had come.
So when we counted it safe to move, we once more began to force our passage down to the river; and, not to tire the reader as much as we tired ourselves in this business, we at length reached the water-side.
Here, being exhausted with our exertions and faint for want of food, we made a fire, and ate a serpent roasted on the embers, which Matthew had cut down; and this I recollect, because it was the first time I had tasted of these reptiles; nor should I then have eaten it, having a great loathing for such worms, but that Matthew assured me they were excellent meat, as indeed they are for those who can get no better.
While we were regaling ourselves I begged Matthew to tell me why he had come down to the river instead of returning to the road.
"For two reasons, master," he replies. "First of all, there was not a bend of that road that was safe for us, seeing that at any turn we might have marched smack into the hands of the Portugals."
"I don't see that," says I; "for we had stood a better chance of catching sight of Lewis de Pino and his train going on before us than they of spying us creeping on behind them."
"How about the others?" says he.
"What others?"
"Why, they who have been hunting us with the dog."
"They, I take it, are Lewis de Pino's men," says I.
"Lord love you, master, not they!" says he. "Do you think that dog was his, too? Oh, no! He and I are old enemies. He belongs to my old master the factor, and is kept at the station to hunt poor runaways. I knew the moment I heard his bark that my factor's men were on our heels. Villain! he is shrewd enough to know you would follow in your cousin's steps, and dispatched his men—if he be not himself at their head—to search the road and apprise De Pino of your escape. Now, master, if they had slipped by without being betrayed by the dog they would have spurred on till they overtook De Pino, and finding us not with him would have laid in ambush to take us as we followed after. Do you think I'm far out in my calculation?"
"No," says I; "you're right, I must allow, Matthew; and now for your second reason."
"The second hangs on to the first, master; for it stands to reason that if we ran a fair chance of losing our own liberty by sticking to the road, we were in a poor way to save the female. I went a bit too far maybe in supposing that you had no certain scheme of your own for circumventing De Pino."
"No," says I; "you were in the right again there: I had no fixed purpose."
"You had a notion maybe that we might catch De Pino and his men all napping, and that we might just get away with the female before they woke."
I admitted that if I had any scheme at all it was no better than that.
"Well, master," says Matthew, "we must give the Portugals credit for having sense enough to sleep with one eye open after being warned that you were at large, and so you must see that it would be courting our own destruction to attempt any such design as that."
"Ay," says I, "but I sha'n't be content to escape destruction myself if my cousin is to be abandoned to a worse fate."
"True, master," says he; "but as her escape depends on our existence, we must insure the latter for to compass the former."
"There I agree with you," says I; "but do you, if you can, show me by what means you reckon to get at my Lady Biddy, for up to this you have only led me further away from her."
"Master," says he, "so far as my observation goes, the best part of mortal success has been achieved by the turning of happy accidents to advantage, and our success in this undertaking must likewise depend upon favorable circumstances coming to our hand. Nevertheless, we can do something, and the best chance of gaining a victory is to attack the enemy on the side where assault is least looked for; and so," says he, seeing I was pretty well driven to the end of my patience with his philosophy, "instead of hanging about in De Pino's rear, where he undoubtedly expects to spy us, we must get in front of him, where he as little looks to meet us as the man in the moon."
"And how on earth do you expect to get in front of him by coming down here?"
"By the river," says he, "where there are neither rocks to throw us over, nor briars to balk our progress."
"He will be leagues ahead of us, man, before nightfall," says I, in desperation.
"No matter for that; we'll be leagues ahead of him before daybreak. I warrant we'll be at Valetta a day before he arrives."
"Where is Valetta?"
"Valetta is a town on this river that he must pass through. 'Tis four days' march from here by road—a shorter journey than by the river; but we must advance while he is resting, journeying by night as well as by day. Turn and turn about, we need never stop at our oars save to eat our meals together."
"But we have no boat," says I.
"We must make one," says he.
I laughed, yet not merrily, and asked him if he expected we could make a boat in four days, when it had cost me four months and more to make a raft.
"Lord love you, master," says he, "we'll be afloat in four hours."
My comrade had no sooner made promise that we should be afloat in four hours than he started about carrying out his design.
There was in that swamp that bordered the river an amazing quantity of great cane-reeds, some twenty feet in height and more, and of these he began to cut down with his sword such as were most proper to his purpose, bidding me do the like, and choose those of last year's growth, which were dry, light, and of good girth. Nothing loath, I waded into the morass (with a care that I trod on no water-serpent) until I was pretty well up to my middle in water, and there I laid about me with a will, until I had cut as many as I could carry, which I then took to a point where the water was deep and free from this growth, and laid them beside Matthew's store. In this way we proceeded until we had laid up a good stock of these canes.
"Now," says Matthew, eyeing them, "I judge we have enough; so do you go, master, and cut me one of those plaguey vines that gave us so much trouble this morning, while I set these reeds shipshape."
Perceiving his object, I went up into the wood and cut ten or a dozen fathoms of the lianes, which, as I say, are like any ship's tackle for toughness and soundness. While I was about this, Matthew sets the canes out, with the thick end of one overlapping about three parts of its length the thick end of another in such a manner that (all being served and tightly bound with the liana at both ends, and again in two or three places towards the middle) they made a huge bundle about a yard through at its largest girth, and four yards long, tapering off at each end like a fishing-float. This being done, and the lianes bound securely to Matthew's mind, he begs me to lend him a hand at cutting away certain of the canes in the middle with my knife, which was tough work indeed (for the canes were prodigious hard), and labor we might have spared ourselves had we bethought us to dispose the canes differently before we bound them up; but this did not occur to us till we were pretty nigh the end of our job.
However, having cut out of the middle a space about four feet long by two broad, and as much in depth, our business was done.
This was the boat which was to carry us up the river, and Matthew was not a little proud of it; though I was still in a taking for fear it should turn over when we set foot into it, and capsize us both into the water; but this it did not, but carried us as steadily as we could wish, and capital good we found it for such a boat as it was.
For our sweeps or paddles we bound two stout canes together, stretching them asunder at one end and covering that part with a broad tough grass.
In this craft we made our way up that river three days and four nights, only stopping to take such rest as was needful and to procure refreshment. Many difficulties and perils we encountered by the way, but of these I have no space to tell had I the inclination, for it seems as I write that I have the same burning impatience which urged me on then to come to my Lady Biddy. Every obstacle that delayed progress enraged me. I could scarcely bring myself to let my comrade get his fair and necessary amount of sleep, but would be twitching him to awake ere he had got soundly asleep; for as to one sleeping in the boat while the other rowed, that we found impossible, because there was no room to lie down there, and necessary it was, for fear of cramps, at times to take our feet out of the water, which we had no means to keep from coming in betwixt the reeds.
But Matthew bore with me, seeing my great anxiety of mind, and that I did not rest a quarter as much as he; and though he grumbled again (but chiefly in pretense), he roused himself after the second or third twitch, and did all man could to give me hope. Indeed, a fellow of gentler temper, a more cheerful, kind friend, I never knew of his sex.
Soon after daybreak on the fourth day, having been at our sweeps a couple of hours maybe, we spied some fishing-canoes moored by the shore, and some little cot-houses hard by, by which we judged we had come to the outskirts of Valetta. Whereupon we drew into the bank, and going up through the woods to the top of a little hill, came upon tilled fields, beyond which lay the town, very gray and quiet in the creeping light of that early morning.
"Now, master," says Matthew, "the first thing is to learn if De Pino and his train have yet arrived in the town; and we can't do that standing here looking at it."
"Nay," says I, "I'm ready to go into the town at once if you are. But we must be secret."
"Ay," says he; "and for that reason you will have to bide here."
"I can not do that," says I. "Think, Matthew—she may stand in need of my help. I shall be mad if I stay here idle."
"Not so mad," says he, "as if you venture into that town. Look at your state. Could any man clap eyes on you without pointing you out to his neighbor?"
Truly I was in a sad pickle—my fine clothes that I had of Dom Sebastian rent in a hundred places with the thorns through which we had torn our way in escaping by the woods; no hat to my head; my silk stockings stained with the blood from my scratched legs and the mud of the morass; and my hands and face swollen with the bite of those flies that haunt the river.
"You look," continues he, "as if you had broke loose from a prison, and like nothing else; and if you be taken to task by the mayor, or other busybody, to account for your condition, your answer or your silence will at once betray you for a foreigner. So will you be clapped up in jail, and the female be worse off than ever."
I was forced to admit that he was in the right, and to ask what he designed.
"Why," says he, "I shall go into the town as a shipwrecked mariner, cast ashore off Buenaventure, fallen sick of a leprosy, and begging my way to my friends at Cartagena, and no one shall count this a lie by the bravery of my dress."
Indeed he looked beggarly enough, having not a rag of shirt to his back, nor any clothes but his shoes, breeches, and a jacket of skins, with an old hat that no one would have picked off a dust-heap.
"In this guise," continues he, "may I go all through that town, asking alms in good Portuguese, so that men will be more glad to get out of my way than to stop me. And if, when I have been to all the inns and places of rest, I find De Pino is not yet come, I will sit me down against a church-door, the town gate, or elsewhere most convenient for spying who enters by the road from Darien, and wait there till nightfall, when I will come again to you. And, lest I get no broken victuals, do you have a good supper ready by way of alms to give a hungry beggar."
I promised him he should not lack for food.
"Now, master," says he, "give me something as a token that I may slip into the female's hand, when I go to beg of her, as she passes, whereby she may know that you are at hand."
I was greatly pleased with his forethought, which showed a kind consideration for Lady Biddy's happiness, and delighted to think I might thus communicate with her. So, undoing my waistcoat, I cut a fair piece from the breast of my shirt, which was of fine linen, and having pierced my finger with a thorn I contrived to trace "B. P." on this rag with my blood.
Meanwhile Matthew had gone about to find some purple berries which he crushed in divers places upon the flesh of his legs and face, so that when he came forth I scarcely knew him again, as he looked for all the world, by reason of this disfigurement, like one who was sore of a plague.
"I wager," says he, "no one will want to lay hands on me now; and as for De Pino, he will turn away in disgust at the first glance, for these Portugals pretend to have mighty nice stomachs. Howsomever, I must give myself another touch or two to deceive his eye."
Therewith he takes his knife and saws away at his bushy beard until he had brought it down to a point, after the Portugals' mode. Then he begged me to crop the hair of his head, which I did forthwith; and to see me a-trimming his head with my sword was a sight to set any barber's teeth on edge. This done, he give me his sword to take charge of, and hides his knife inside his jacket, with my token for Lady Biddy. Then folding his arms on his chest, drawing up his shoulders to his ears, and putting on a most woe-begone look, he asks me if I think he will pass muster.
"Ay," says I, "you are horrid enough, in all conscience; but with those loathsome-seeming sores upon you I doubt if my cousin will care to take my token from your hand."
"Lord love you, master," says he with a laugh, "if you knew as much of females as I do you would have no doubt on that head. There's no disguise will deceive their eyes when they have a man in their thoughts; and," adds he in a graver tone, "there's no form of distress will make them shrink from a tender office."
He gave me his hand, bidding me farewell, and went his way with a shuffling gait and a sly leer back at me to show me he understood his business.
I watched him until he entered the fields, where the tall plants presently hid him from my sight. Then I bethought me to set adrift our boat, which might have excited curiosity and suspicion had it been seen by any one passing on the river; and this I did, after cutting the lianes that bound it, so that it might go to pieces as it went down with the current. After that, with a sling I managed to kill half a dozen birds, about the size of pigeons, and these I cooked in the midst of the wood, where the smoke from my fire might not be seen. Also I gathered some good fruit, and of this food I set by enough to serve for a meal when Matthew returned. Then I sat me down at that point whence my comrade had departed, watching for his return through the fields.
Hour after hour I sat there, turning my eyes neither to the right nor to the left, for my eagerness to see him again, and my thoughts all the while running on my dear lady; but no reflections worthy to be recorded. The sun sank and the twilight faded away; but the stars were bright in the sky before I heard any sign of Matthew; then I caught a snuffling, whining voice, which I knew to be his, crying:
"Is there 'ere a kind friend will give a bit to a poor sick seafaring man?" at the same time I perceived a figure coming towards me.
"What news, Matthew—what news?" I cried, running to meet him.
"Plenty," says he; "I've done a rare day's business."
"Lord be praised!" says I; "what have you learnt?"
"That a canting rogue may earn more in a day than an honest man in a week."
"What else, what else?" says I impatiently.
"That for winning true respect there's naught like sham sores."
"For the love of Heaven do not torment me! What of my cousin?"
"Oh, she has not yet come into the town," says he; "nor will she to-night for certain; the gates were being shut when I crawled out. I told you, master, we should get here a day before De Pino."
On this I heaved a great sigh for disappointment.
"Lord love you, master," says he, "don't heave a sigh like that afore you're married, or you'll have none left for a better occasion."
This pleasantry made me sadder that before, for it put me in mind that, come what might, Lady Biddy could never be mine, nor I anything to her but as a poor faithful servant.
"Cheer up, master," says Matthew. "You may wager that if I haven't brought you one sort of comfort, I've brought you another. Feel the weight of this."
I then perceived, for the first time, that Matthew had a load on his back.
"What in the world have you got there, friend?" says I, feeling the great distended skin bag he carried.
"Wine, master—wine of the best, and a couple of gallons of it."
"How did you come by it?"
"Honestly. I paid for it with good silver, and I've enough left against times of need. For, you see, while wholesome beggars were taken into the kitchen for a paltry mess of broken victuals, I no sooner showed my face in a doorway but a silver piece was tossed into the road to get rid of me. Bless every one with a nice stomach, say I; they give me the whole street to myself when they catch sight of me, and go a roundabout way to their goal. You wonder why I wasn't turned out of the town. Lord love you, there was not a constable had the heart to lay his hand on me. A sort of a kind of a beadle came and looked at me from a distance, and I was half afeared he meditated getting me shot with a long gun; but when I sat me down peaceably in the church-door, he saw I could do no one any mischief there, and so went away to trounce some silly folks who were trying to turn a penny or two with a dancing dog."
In this manner did he run on, telling me of his adventures during the day, until all our birds were eaten and the wine-skin half empty, when he laid himself down, chuckling over the prospect of a long night's sleep, and warning me not to arouse him too soon, as he had been forced to wait an hour at the gates.
"And," says he, "if I show myself an early riser, they may well doubt if I be a true beggar."
The next day seemed to me as if it would never come to an end, having nothing much else to do than to watch for Matthew's return; and what made it more tedious and wearisome was that my comrade had started bidding me expect him back before midday.
"For," says he, "the next station, if I remember right, is but a matter of four or five leagues distant; so that, starting betimes, they must needs arrive about ten or eleven at the outside."
When he came not at noon I began to torment myself with fears lest some mischance had happened to Matthew; either that he had been clapped up in a bridewell to cure him of his sores, or had been recognized by Lewis de Pino, to his great misfortune. And though this was grievous enough to think on (for I loved the kind, honest rogue), yet it was nothing beside the concern I felt for Lady Biddy had such an accident arrived; for while I was lingering here, with my hands idle by my side, Lewis de Pino might be hurrying away with her to Quito.
As soon as the first star began to twinkle I could bear this suspense no longer, and started out towards the town; for if Matthew were free, I knew he would leave the town when the gates were about to be closed. About half a league from the town I met him (to my great joy), and my first question was what news he had brought with him.
Instead of beating about the bush and making a joke of my impatience, he answered, very soberly, that De Pino and his train had not yet entered the town.
"Hows'mever," says he, "there's no call to be cast down about that matter, for I may very well have made a mistake in the distance, seeing I have traveled over the road but once, and that ten or a dozen years ago. One thing is certain, master—they must arrive to-morrow, and this delay is all to our advantage, since it has given me time to pry about the town, and examine in what manner we may best contrive to get the female out of De Pino's hands."
Therewith he entered into the design he had formed for this purpose, describing the inn at which the merchants stayed, with the means of getting out of the town, and into it, without passing the gate, etc., etc., in such detail that he gave me no time to think of anything else till we had eaten our supper and emptied the wine-skin, when he declared he was too tired to converse longer; and so, laying himself down, bade me good-night and presently began to snore.
But then, my mind being no longer occupied with his return, I grew uneasy again about this delay, and could not close an eye for my trouble. I had noticed that Matthew was much less merry than usual, and now I took it into my head that the long-winded description of the inn, and his ingenious project for rescuing "the female," was nothing but a design to divert my mind, and make his own uneasiness less noticeable.
'Twas useless attempting to sleep in this disorder of mind, and I could no longer lie still when day broke; but getting up quietly, so that I might not awake Matthew, I went to a little distance and paced backwards and forwards with a heavy heart. Presently Matthew, getting up, comes to my side, and says he:
"Can't you sleep, master?"
"No," says I.
"No more can I," says he, "and I took a pretty stiff dose of wine, too, for my nightcap. I ha'n't slept a wink all night."
"You've snored pretty continually, nevertheless," says I.
"As for that," says he, "I'm a man that must be doing something; and 'tis as easy to snore as to wear spots on your face; but one is no more a sign of sleep than t'other is of a distemper."
"Why couldn't you sleep, Matthew?" says I. "What's amiss?"
"Well," says he, "De Pino and the female ought to have come in yesterday morning at the latest."
"But you said you might have made a mistake as to the distance?"
"So I might," says he slyly; "but, to make quite sure, I took the pains to inquire last night of my friend at the inn, outside the town, and I found I had not."
"Then you believe they ought to have been here before now?" says I sharply.
"Yes, master," says he gravely. "They ought to have come in the night afore last, or yesterday morning at the latest. When it came noon yesterday I gave them up; yet I stayed there in the hope I was wrong. First saying to myself that, being warned of your escape by the factor, he had thought it well to make an ambush, and wait for you to come up; and then that he had stopped for some reason of his business; but these arguments wouldn't do—and, to cut a long story short, I made up my mind when I saw the gates closed last night, and no sign of De Pino along the road for half a mile—I made up my mind, I say, that he had taken another road."
"Taken another road!" says I, in a terrible amazement.
"Ay," says he. "I can account for it in no other way."
"And why did you not tell me this last night?" I asks angrily.
"We could do nothing in the dark, and I hoped you would get a good night's sleep and be fresh for a march this morning," says he simply. "There was no good in plaguing you before your time."
I could not be angry with the fellow after that, for he was in the right, and, 'twas out of pure kindness of heart he had held his tongue.
"I though you were so sure of the road, Matthew?" says I.
"So I was, master; and more fool I. Don't spare me; I deserve all the blame, for 'twas I who would have you come by the river when you would have gone by the road."
"Did you make no inquiry about this road last night?"
"Ay," says he. "No other road to Quito is known to the innkeeper but this. Yet he may be as great a fool as I in that matter; and though De Pino could take no other road to Quito, he might, for all that, have turned aside to some other place."
"What do you propose we should do now, Matthew?"
"Get on to the road, and hark back as soon as there is light enough for us to pick our way. We will hit the road within sight of the town-gates before they are opened, to make certain they have not come up."
The poor fellow was so crestfallen, having now no heart to disguise his discomfiture, that to cheer him I professed to be in no way disheartened by this failure.
"For," says I, "there is this advantage about it: I shall not have to rest idle here any longer. 'Twill be light enough to begin our march in half an hour."
"Why, that's true, master," says he, brightening up; "and, not to waste time, we'll have a good meal to strengthen us against fatigue."
"There's nothing to eat," says I; "we finished every scrap last night."
"Nay," says he; "I laid out for that, and brought home a peck loaf and a roast loin of mutton with me last night."
I remembered he was pretty well charged when we met overnight, but had taken no heed of what he carried, thinking in the dark it was but another skin of wine.
"Parrots are all very well for high feeding, and so are serpents and such-like," says he, fetching his loaf and the loin of mutton, "but give me bread and roast mutton when there's work to be done."
When we had finished our repast, Matthew buckled on his sword, and we started off. Striking the road after an hour's march, and making sure that no cavalcade lay between us and the town, we turned our faces to the north, and strode out with a will: nor did we check our pace for two hours, albeit the way lay all up hill and none too smooth. We met not a soul all that time, for only merchants with their trains of mules, etc., pass this way, and they not frequently, so that for a whole week there may not be a single traveler to be met. Indeed, we had scarcely dared to travel that way otherwise, for our appearance would have justified any one in taking us for outlaws—I in my tattered finery, with a peck loaf slung on my shoulder, as great knife in my girdle, a long sword in my hand, and nothing but an uncombed crop of hair on my head; and Matthew likewise fiercely armed, with a wine-skin and a bundle of broken victuals at his back, scarcely enough clothes to cover his nakedness, and a complexion as if he had just escaped from a lazar-house—in fine, as unwelcome a knight and squire as any one might wish to meet. Nor were our movements much more reassuring than our appearance, for at every turn of the road we would stop with our swords firmly gripped, peering round the rocks and betwixt the bushes, as if we were on the lookout for some one to waylay and murder.
At length we came in sight of a station, and here with great prudence we went about to spy into it, and yet not be seen ourselves; and this, by reason of its position and the chance of encountering hunters in the surrounding wood, was a painful and tedious business; but finally getting upon the further side, and crawling near with terrible fear (lest we might arouse some watch-dog, and so have a repetition of our former trouble), we got a fair sight into the village, where was nothing to be seen but four bearded rascals playing of cards. And so, creeping out of that wood as carefully as we had crept in, we once more got into the road, and pushed onward till noon without stopping, except at the bends of the road as aforesaid.
At noon we stooped to eat and refresh ourselves, and that done, we went onward again for best part of two hours, though the sun was now at its height; but by reason we were now very high up on the side of the mountain, and that in many places the rock sheltered us with an agreeable shade, we were not so hot but that we could still march with a good heart. Yet here we stayed to consult together, for we had come to a part of the road where we could not conceal ourselves if we met Lewis de Pino, nor retreat without exposing ourselves to the fire of his arquebuses. For the path wound along close by the side of the mountain, with no growth of herbs, and all barren for a long distance in front; nor was it possible to get out of the path by clambering upwards or sliding downwards for the prodigious steepness of it, and the road so narrow that no two pack-mules could pass each other, except by standing aside in certain cavities hewn here and there in the rock in case of one train meeting another. Down below lay the woods, but so deep that the highest tree-tops came no nearer than a couple of hundred feet of where we stood.
"Master," says Matthew, "if we meet De Pino and his merry men on this road 'twill be a bad job for us."
"Ay," says I; "and the sooner we get to the other end of it the safer we shall be."
"Lord love you, master," says he, "what a thing it is to be a philosopher! Here might I jeopardize my precious life another ten minutes but for your wisdom."
As we followed this path, we discovered that, where opportunity offered, bridges of long trees had been thrown from one jutting rock to another, to save the labor of cutting a way in the side of the mountain. We had crossed two of these bridges when Matthew, being ahead of me, suddenly mended his pace, and then, coming to a stand, turns about and cries:
"Hang me if I wasn't right after all, master. They have come along this road, but have turned back."
"How can you answer for that, friend?" says I.
"Why, look you," says he, pointing to the road a dozen yards ahead of us. "Here is a bridge broke."
Stepping briskly forward, I found that it truly was as he said, for there yawned a great gap, which no man could jump; and that there had been a bridge here we could plainly see by the print of the tree-trunks in the rubble on the ledge cut for them in the rock. Moreover, looking over the edge, we spied one of these timbers lying athwart of a rock down below.
This discovery so comforted me (for I made sure I was now near my Lady Biddy, instead of being all at sea as to her whereabouts) that I set up a great shout of joy.
"For the love of Heaven, master, have a care!" cried Matthew in a whisper, after listening a moment in terror. "Did you not hear that answer to your shout?"
"Nay," says I; "what answer?"
"I know not," says he, looking around him in a scare; "pray Heaven it be not our enemies."
"Nonsense," says I, beside myself with this return of hope; "'twas but an echo from the rocks—hark!" And with that I hallooed again as loud as I could, which was the maddest thing to do, and not to be done save by a man reckless with despair or with joy.
On this Matthew claps his hand on his mouth in terror, as if it was he who had sung out, and then lifting his finger crouches down on his hams, overcome with fear and expecting nothing less, I believe, than to be riddled with musket-balls the next minute. But he had cause for alarm, and I only was the fool, for now I distinctly heard over and above the echoes of my voice a cry harsh and hoarse, but like nothing human, so that I was brought to my sober senses in a moment. So we stood silent and still for the space of a minute, wondering whence this sound came (and I not much braver than Matthew), and then I fell laughing like a fool.
"See," says I, pointing to a great buzzard which was sweeping in a circle over the trees below, "there is the only enemy I have roused, and one whose flight is more to be counted on than his attack."
But Matthew would not join in my mirth, and, albeit he got back his courage presently, he was not so light of heart as he had been before, for he took this bird to be a sign of ill-omen.
"Come, master," says he, "instead of playing the fool here, let us think how we are to get t'other side this chasm, unless you are minded to rest here content. For my own part, I see no way to get across."
"Have patience with me, Matthew," says I, seeing I had wounded his feelings by laughing at his terror. "I have been so unhappy that this change in our fortune has turned my head."
"Lord love you, master," says he kindly, "I like a jest as well as any man, but hang me if I see any joking matter here, or any change of fortune to be charmed with. For at the next station De Pino will get all the Portugals he can to return with his own fellows to restore this bridge, so we are like to have a score of arquebuses against us instead of ten or a dozen."
This brought our danger and our difficulties so clearly to my mind that I grew sober at once, and began to cast about with Matthew very earnestly how we might bridge the chasm. But there was nothing there for such a purpose, and there was no way but to climb up the rocks or down until we found some jutting points by which we could scramble along the face of the mountain. After calculating by which method we were least likely to break our necks, we resolved to go upwards, yet had we to go back some way to get at any part that could be scaled. But after climbing up some fifty feet we found ourselves (thanks be to God) on a ledge of smooth rock, which we had not seen from the road below for its height and the rock that overhung it. This ledge, as I judge, had been formed by a slip in the mountain, for there a seam of glittering rock ran all along beside it; but be that as it may, it formed a level path as good as that we had quitted, and better, though mighty narrow in parts, so that it was a ticklish business to go forward, and that sideways and clinging with every nail to the rock; and the narrowest part was (as luck would have it) just over that part where the bridge had been broken away, so that we felt exceeding grateful to Providence when we were safe on the other side.
We now considered whether we should get down again into the made road, but seeing the side was still vastly steep and difficult to descend, we were content to follow our ledge, in the hope we should presently come to a part where we might descend more easily. We had gone about a hundred yards when, looking over the side, I stopped, and called Matthew's attention to the road below.
"Lord love us, master," cried he, casting his eye down, "why, there's another bridge gone!"
There was, indeed, another great gap in the road, not less extensive than the first.
"Can you make out what this signifies?" says Matthew.
"No," says I. "'Tis no accident, that's pretty clear; and it looks as if it were done of a design to check pursuit."
"What pursuit had they for to fear?" says Matthew; "not ours, to be sure." Then scratching his head, after tilting his hat for'ard, as was his wont, he says, half aloud, as if trying to grasp the points of the problem: "They are going south; they cross the first bridge and come to the second. They destroy that so carefully that not a stick is left; go back, cross the first bridge again, and pull that down as carefully as they served the other." He could make nothing of it, which seemed to exasperate him; for he presently claps his hat back in its place, and dropping on his hands and knees, the better to survey the road, cranes over the edge of the rock, casting his eye to the right, and then to the left, and finally fixing it on the ground beneath.
"Master," says he, "do you tell me what marks you see in the road down there."
So down go I on my hands and knees, and looking intently for some time—
"I can see," says I, "the marks of the mules' feet in the dust, but whether they are turned north or south I can't make out."
"Nor I, neither," says he; "but do you see anything besides?"
"I see a trace where the hoof-marks seem to be smudged out; as if something had been dragged along the ground towards the edge of the abyss."
"That's what I mean. Now what does that argify?" he asks, getting off his hands, squatting on his heels, and once more scratching his head.
I could make no reply, but still leaned over, trying to make out these marks.
"Good God!" exclaimed Matthew, all of a sudden, "what's this?"
Turning about hastily, I found him regarding a patch on the rock just in front of where he was kneeling. Looking closer, I saw that it was almost black, yet with a purple tinge. Matthew scraped it with his nail, and as it showed deep red below the surface he looks up into my face and says, dropping his voice almost to a whisper:
"Blood!"
Glancing round he scanned the rocky ledge behind him; then suddenly he points his finger without a word to another stain not a foot off; but this told its tale more clearly, for it formed a print of an open hand; as if a wounded man, after trying to stanch the blood from a wound, had been forced to clap that hand on the rock to save him from falling into the road below.
That others had been on that ledge before us was clear enough, but it beat me to know how a wounded man could have crawled up there, or what his purpose had been.
"Come on, master," says Matthew, springing to his feet, "we must lose no time. This riddle concerns us, or I am wrong in my reckoning. God grant no mischief has come to the female; that's all I pray."
My heart was chilled to hear him speak thus, for I saw that he argued more from these signs than he chose to tell, and that he had grave fears to make him utter this prayer. I followed him close at his heels, quaking in every muscle for fear, until we came to a part where it looked possible to slide down into the road without very great danger; yet was it such a venture as we might not have made at another time, but Matthew was as desperate as I.
"Master," says he, as we lay down to slip over the edge; "we'll both let go at the same time, so that one may not have to bury the other if this hazard does our business."
So we hung over the side, and, recommending ourselves to Providence, nodded to each other, and let go. In about two minutes we slid down about fifty feet and more; but by a happy chance came upon our feet at the bottom in the middle of that narrow road, not much more bruised and torn than we had hoped for.
As soon as he had fetched breath, Matthew falls to examining the dust in the road foot by foot, going in the direction of the chasm where the bridge had been (the northernmost of the two), I following in silence, for I had not his intelligence, yet looking stupidly on the ground, as if I expected to see Lady Biddy's history writ there.
When he had come right to the edge of the gulf and could go no further, he turns to me and says very gravely:
"Master, have you got a stout heart?"
"Ay," says I; but my voice belied me, for it was feeble as a child's, knowing by this prelude that he had come to a conclusion which must be terrible to my ear.
Matthew unslung his wine-skin and bade me drink.
"For," says he, "I warn you there is a call for all your manhood."
When I had drank I bade him tell me the worst of his fears.
"Look you," says he, pointing to the dust of the road, "here are the marks of mules' hoofs, and here the prints of those great boots the Portugals wear."
"Yes," says I, waiting with a throbbing heart for what was to follow hence.
"The boot-prints go all in one direction—south; not one is turned north as I can find; but the mules' hoofs turn both south and north; and see, here is one turned north that is right in the midst of a footprint turned south."
"Go on, Matthew," says I faintly, yet with a show of courage, that he might finish.
"The Ingas have been at work. I see the hand of those murderous savages in this; yet we should not call 'em hard names neither, for they only do that for revenge which the Portugals do for gold. They dread and hate every white face, and from time to time they travel in a great band leagues and leagues to come to a place like this, where they may rid themselves of these Portugal tyrants. Here was a place after their very heart. They destroy the further bridge, and when De Pino has passed they came from their ambuscade, which, as we know, was in the rock above, and withdraw the timbers of the hither one, which they may have been loosing and preparing for weeks, and thus, when the whole train can neither go onward nor backward, they go up to the ledge again, and shoot down with their arrows from the rock above every one of their enemies. Then, when their deadly work is finished, they replace the timbers to fetch off the mules and their booty. To end all they cast down the timbers to delay discovery and give them time to escape. This is how it comes about that we see the hoofs turned north, but not a single footmark of those who went south with them."
"Out with it, Matthew!" I cries, in a passion of despair; "tell me that she is massacred with the rest—that not one has escaped!"
"Master," says he, with a great compassion in his voice, "the Ingas have no more pity for a white woman than a white man. All are gone!"
"No, no!" cries I imploringly; "'tis not so. They found the bridge broke and went back."
Without a word Matthew put his hand on my arm and pointed down to the valley where the great buzzard that I had laughed at but half an hour before was again sweeping round above the trees.
My heart stopped, and I felt it lie like a cold stone within me as I thought upon what dainty flesh this foul bird of carrion had been gorging.