CHAPTER XLVI.
HOW WE CAME TO THAT PLACE WHICH I CALL THE VALLEY OF DEATH.
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 hadcrossed two of these bridges when Matthew, being ahead of me, suddenlymended 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 thisroad, 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 ofus. "Here is a bridge broke."
Stepping briskly forward, I found that it truly was as he said, forthere yawned a great gap, which no man could jump; and that there hadbeen a bridge here we could plainly see by the print of the tree-trunksin the rubble on the ledge cut for them in the rock. Moreover, lookingover the edge, we spied one of these timbers lying athwart of a rockdown below.
This discovery so comforted me (for I made sure I was now near my LadyBiddy, instead of being all at sea as to her whereabouts) that I set upa great shout of joy.
"For the love of Heaven, master, have a care!" cried Matthew in awhisper, after listening a moment in terror. "Did you not hear thatanswer to your shout?"
"Nay," says I; "what answer?"
"I know not," says he, looking around him in a scare; "pray Heaven it benot our enemies."
"Nonsense," says I, beside myself with this return of hope; "'twas butan echo from the rocks--hark!" And with that I hallooed again as loud asI could, which was the maddest thing to do, and not to be done save by aman reckless with despair or with joy.
On this Matthew claps his hand on his mouth in terror, as if it was hewho had sung out, and then lifting his finger crouches down on his hams,overcome with fear and expecting nothing less, I believe, than to beriddled 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 theechoes of my voice a cry harsh and hoarse, but like nothing human, sothat I was brought to my sober senses in a moment. So we stood silentand 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 afool.
"See," says I, pointing to a great buzzard which was sweeping in acircle over the trees below, "there is the only enemy I have roused, andone whose flight is more to be counted on than his attack."
But Matthew would not join in my mirth, and, albeit he got back hiscourage 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 thinkhow we are to get t'other side this chasm, unless you are minded to resthere content. For my own part, I see no way to get across."
"Have patience with me, Matthew," says I, seeing I had wounded hisfeelings by laughing at his terror. "I have been so unhappy that thischange in our fortune has turned my head."
"Lord love you, master," says he kindly, "I like a jest as well as anyman, but hang me if I see any joking matter here, or any change offortune to be charmed with. For at the next station De Pino will get allthe Portugals he can to return with his own fellows to restore thisbridge, so we are like to have a score of arquebuses against us insteadof ten or a dozen."
This brought our danger and our difficulties so clearly to my mind thatI grew sober at once, and began to cast about with Matthew veryearnestly how we might bridge the chasm. But there was nothing there forsuch a purpose, and there was no way but to climb up the rocks or downuntil we found some jutting points by which we could scramble along theface of the mountain. After calculating by which method we were leastlikely to break our necks, we resolved to go upwards, yet had we to goback some way to get at any part that could be scaled. But afterclimbing up some fifty feet we found ourselves (thanks be to God) on aledge of smooth rock, which we had not seen from the road below for itsheight and the rock that overhung it. This ledge, as I judge, had beenformed by a slip in the mountain, for there a seam of glittering rockran all along beside it; but be that as it may, it formed a level pathas good as that we had quitted, and better, though mighty narrow inparts, so that it was a ticklish business to go forward, and thatsideways and clinging with every nail to the rock; and the narrowestpart was (as luck would have it) just over that part where the bridgehad been broken away, so that we felt exceeding grateful to Providencewhen 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, wewere content to follow our ledge, in the hope we should presently cometo a part where we might descend more easily. We had gone about ahundred yards when, looking over the side, I stopped, and calledMatthew's attention to the road below.
"Lord love us, master," cried he, casting his eye down, "why, there'sanother bridge gone!"
There was, indeed, another great gap in the road, not less extensivethan 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 ifit were done of a design to check pursuit."
"What pursuit had they for to fear?" says Matthew; "not ours, to besure." Then scratching his head, after tilting his hat for'ard, as washis wont, he says, half aloud, as if trying to grasp the points of theproblem: "They are going south; they cross the first bridge and come tothe second. They destroy that so carefully that not a stick is left; goback, cross the first bridge again, and pull that down as carefully asthey served the other." He could make nothing of it, which seemed toexasperate him; for he presently claps his hat back in its place, anddropping on his hands and knees, the better to survey the road, cranesover the edge of the rock, casting his eye to the right, and then to theleft, and finally fixing it on the ground beneath.
"Master," says he, "do you tell me what marks you see in the road downthere."
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, butwhether 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 ifsomething had been dragged along the ground towards the edge of theabyss."
"That's what I mean. Now what does that argify?" he asks, getting offhis hands, squatting on his heels, and once more scratching his head.
I could make no reply, but still leaned over, trying to make out thesemarks.
"Good God!" exclaimed Matthew, all of a sudden, "what's this?"
Turning about hastily, I found him regarding a patch on the rock just infront of where he was kneeling. Looking closer, I saw that it was almostblack, yet with a purple tinge. Matthew scraped it with his nail, and asit 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 hepoints his finger without a word to another stain not a foot off; butthis 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, hadbeen forced to clap that hand on the rock to save him from falling intothe road below.
That others had been on that ledge before us was clear enough, but itbeat me to know how a wounded man could have crawled up there, or whathis purpose had been.
"Come on, master," says Matthew, springing to his feet, "we must lose notime. This riddle concerns us, or I am wrong in my reckoning. God grantno 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 arguedmore from these signs than he chose to tell, and that he had grave fearsto 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 itlooked 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, butMatthew was as desperate as I.
"Master," says he, as we lay down to slip over the edge; "we'll both letgo at the same time, so that one may not have to bury the other if thishazard 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 downabout fifty feet and more; but by a happy chance came upon our feet atthe bottom in the middle of that narrow road, not much more bruised andtorn than we had hoped for.
As soon as he had fetched breath, Matthew falls to examining the dust inthe road foot by foot, going in the direction of the chasm where thebridge had been (the northernmost of the two), I following in silence,for I had not his intelligence, yet looking stupidly on the ground, asif 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 beterrible 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 themarks of mules' hoofs, and here the prints of those great boots thePortugals wear."
"Yes," says I, waiting with a throbbing heart for what was to followhence.
"The boot-prints go all in one direction--south; not one is turned northas 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 footprintturned south."
"Go on, Matthew," says I faintly, yet with a show of courage, that hemight finish.
"The Ingas have been at work. I see the hand of those murderous savagesin this; yet we should not call 'em hard names neither, for they only dothat for revenge which the Portugals do for gold. They dread and hateevery white face, and from time to time they travel in a great bandleagues and leagues to come to a place like this, where they may ridthemselves of these Portugal tyrants. Here was a place after their veryheart. They destroy the further bridge, and when De Pino has passed theycame from their ambuscade, which, as we know, was in the rock above, andwithdraw the timbers of the hither one, which they may have been loosingand preparing for weeks, and thus, when the whole train can neither goonward nor backward, they go up to the ledge again, and shoot down withtheir arrows from the rock above every one of their enemies. Then, whentheir deadly work is finished, they replace the timbers to fetch off themules and their booty. To end all they cast down the timbers to delaydiscovery and give them time to escape. This is how it comes about thatwe see the hoofs turned north, but not a single footmark of those whowent south with them."
"Out with it, Matthew!" I cries, in a passion of despair; "tell me thatshe is massacred with the rest--that not one has escaped!"
"Master," says he, with a great compassion in his voice, "the Ingas haveno 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 brokeand went back."
Without a word Matthew put his hand on my arm and pointed down to thevalley where the great buzzard that I had laughed at but half an hourbefore was again sweeping round above the trees.
My heart stopped, and I felt it lie like a cold stone within me as Ithought upon what dainty flesh this foul bird of carrion had beengorging.