CHAPTER XVIII--I FALL IN WITH A FRIEND
I sat for many hours that morning, idle and oppressed by a feeling as ofemptiness. What use to me was all the wealth that I had seen--or, forthe matter of that, to any one? I had no means at my disposal to take amillionth part of it away.
And then I remembered Amos, and thought it my duty to take what steps Icould to see that that dread man should never solve the riddle of theRed Fish, though it was unlikely he would find the place without the aidof my fragment of the map.
The sight of all that gold had, as it were, unnerved me--filled me witha kind of weariness of life. I cannot say exactly how it was, but Iknow that I had lost, on a sudden, all my energy and enthusiasm; and itwas late in the afternoon before I bestirred myself and got to work.
I lowered the great slab and covered it with earth, which I trampleddown with my bare feet. Then I went into the woods and dug up plantswith my Indian knife, and these I stuck in the ground so that I made alittle garden. One shower of tropic rain and they would take root andgrow, and thus hide all trace of how the soil had been disturbed. Andlooking up at the sky, where it was visible here and there between thebranches of the trees above me, I saw that such a shower was coming.
The rain fell that evening, when I was camped once more in the woodstowards the east, having gone back the way that I had come, followingthe course of the Brook of Scarlet Pebbles. I took shelter from therain beneath a tree, the great leaves of which formed a veritable roofabove me, so that not one drop of water fell upon the fire that I hadkindled.
I ate my simple meal, and then lay down, not to sleep, but to think andto listen to the rain, beating with a noise like many drums upon theleaves.
Well, I had seen the Treasure of the Incas. With my own eyes I hadbeheld it. And I asked myself if I were any the better for it, andcould not see that I was. For gold is mud, and part of man is mud; andyet there is a great God who is above, around and within us all. Andthat night, as I lay awake in the woods, listening to the drumming ofthe rain, I tried to think out such problems as man has not yet begun tounderstand--problems that, perhaps, he may never solve on this side ofthe grave.
No doubt, the constant propinquity of danger had made me serious for myyears. I had lived for many months in the wilderness, and my pulse nowbeat in rhythm with the earth. The forest, the majestic mountains I hadseen at sunrise, the sky of stars above the plain--all these weremysteries to me, wondrous and eternal. But there was neither eternitynor mystery in the work of man; in gold, in the rusted sword ofOrellano's soldier, or Cahazaxa's Temple.
I saw quite clearly now that this hidden treasure was no affair of mine.I had lived happily for months as Nature meant me to, and the sum totalof my wealth had been my blow-pipe and the knife that Atupo, the priest,had given me. I now understood--far better than I had done at thetime--all John Bannister had told me of his dread of cities and ofpeople. I, too, would like to live my life far from the abodes of men,with the little shy things as my friends, in the chamber of the Wild.For the very sight of the Treasure of Kings had frightened me. Fourhundred years it had lain there, beneath the ground, like a great,harmful dragon; and it seemed to me that to let this monster loose uponthe world would be a bold thing to do--to saddle my conscience with aload of responsibility such as I was never strong enough to bear. Iwished now that I was not one of the few who had solved this preciousriddle.
And yet I was not sure of anything, for the gold tempted me sorely. Iwas tempted more than I can say. If I had now learned to understandsomething of John Bannister's ideals, I saw also, with alarming clarity,the motives that swayed the deeds of Amos Baverstock. Gold to him was aliving force, the origin of all his strength and evil, the prompter ofhis actions. Once or twice that night was I tempted to return to theRed Fish that I might feast my eyes again upon the Treasure.
I told myself that I had not seen enough of it. I was like a drunkardwho had tasted wine. I wondered what worth it had in coinage that Iknew, and I set to thinking how I would spend so vast a sum.
But these were thoughts only of the night-time, in the darkness and thesilence of the woods. I fell asleep at last, sick at heart andwretched; but dawning day came to me with comfort, and I continued on myjourney with new hopes and prospects.
The dragon was behind my back, buried once again. For all I cared, itmight lie there for ever, untouched by mortal hand, unseen by mortaleye, to be smothered in the dust of endless ages.
As for myself, when I came forth from the undergrowth of the wood intothe warm light of the evening sun, I turned to the south, and continuedon my way until long after dark. I had made up my mind, and that wassomething; I would pass round the Wood of the Red Fish, and journeywestward towards the great mountains. These I would cross, and comedown upon the tableland beyond, where I knew that I would find men whowere as civilised as I. Thence, as best I could, I must find my wayback to England. I had little doubt that I might be able to work apassage for myself on board a ship that sailed from Callao or Guayaquil.
But I was a fool to think my adventures so nearly at an end. My destinywas no more in my own hands than that of a withered leaf, carried hereand there by the wind.
I found the western side of the Wood to be very different from theother. It was a country broken up by rocky spurs that descended fromthe foothills just above me; and the ravines or little valleys that laybetween these spurs were densely choked with undergrowth, similar in allrespects to the thickets in the wood.
It was no easy travelling, and yet there was no other road for me totake, for to the north lay the big morass that I had observed from thehill-top on the morning when I first looked down upon the Wood.
So I made my way along the crestline of a rocky ridge, setting forthupon my journey to the Andes early in the morning with the whole daybefore me. Though the rays of the sun were powerful, the day was cool,for a soft breeze was blowing from the mountains. I had not yetbreakfasted, since I thought it likely that in this more open country Imight kill with my blow-pipe some animal that was good to eat; and,therefore, as I marched upon the way, I kept my eyes open, looking intothe ravines on either side of me, to see if I could catch a glimpse ofany living thing. And I had not gone far before--to my bewilderment--Iset eyes upon the solitary figure of _a man_.
I dropped, on the instant, flat upon my face--for I was now a savage inmore ways than one. I had all the instincts of the wild man who knowsthat danger may lurk behind every tree and shrub and rock. I lay uponthe ground, still as a lizard, with my eyes upon the stranger. And themore I looked at him the more I wondered.
The Forest Indians were small in stature, as I have observed in theproper place. But this man was six feet in height. He was as brown asI; and yet he wore clothes--clothes which were all in rags and tatters,and a pair of boots, split open at the toe-caps and bound with stringabout his ankles. Moreover, he carried in his hand a rifle; and thisrifle he used as a staff, placing the butt upon the ground and leaningwith his whole weight upon it as he limped slowly and painfully upon hisway down the ravine immediately beneath me.
I have said that I had the instincts of a wild man. I was cautious, shyand cunning. I had learned to trust no one, to be suspicious of everyone. And so I lay and watched him.
It occurred to me, by degrees, that I had seen him before. I could notfor the life of me remember where. Then he sat down, with his facetoward me.
He had a rough, weather-beaten, and yet a kindly, face. He hadsteel-grey eyes, and a rough, tangled beard. He was so close to me thatI could see that his bare arms were tattooed; and it was this, perhaps,that gave me the clue I wanted. I looked at his beard again, and,unkempt as it was, it reminded me somehow of the beard of a RussianCzar. This man was William Rushby.
I was not sure of it at first. He was greatly changed from the honestsailor who had befriended me on board the _Mary Greenfield_. But whenmy mind was made up, and I was well-nigh carried away by mingledfeelings of astonishment and gladnes
s, I got to my feet and went towardshim with my blow-pipe in my hand.
Without any ado, he whipped the butt of his rifle into the hollow of hisshoulder, and I saw the sights were directed straight upon my heart.
"Hands up!" he cried to me in English. "Hands up, you brown barbarian,or else I shoot you dead!"
"'HANDS UP!' HE CRIED. 'HANDS UP, YOU BROWN BARBARIAN,OR ELSE I SHOOT YOU DEAD!'"]
I grasped the truth in an instant; and it is well I did, for I havelittle doubt that he would have shot me where I stood. If WilliamRushby had changed in personal appearance since last we met, of acertainty I myself had changed still more. He took me for a wild man ofthe woods, though he yelled at me in English, and would have killed meout of hand, had I not lifted my arms and answered him, and laughed.
"Rushby!" I cried. "Do you not know me? It is I--Dick Treadgold."
He brought down his rifle, and stared at me like one who sees a ghost.
"Dick!" said he, and then came forward, holding out his great hand, intowhich I placed my own.
And there we stood, and shook hands with one another, as though we hadmet at Charing Cross. And he was near as naked as I, and we were bothso burned by the sun that the whites of our eyes were almost comical,and our hair was long like that of gipsies, and the skin upon our legsand arms had been scratched in scores of places by the thorn-trees inthe forest.
"Dick!" he cried again. "I can see it now, though I would never havebelieved it."
"It is I who am asked to believe the most," said I. "How came you here,of all people in the world?"
"There's a yarn at the back of that," said he. "But, first, you musttell me how you escaped from Amos."
He seated himself, as he spoke, upon a boulder that lay in the ravine;and when he moved I was reminded of a fact I had perceivedalready--Rushby was badly wounded and lame of a leg.
For all that, I saw that he would glean little in the way of informationif we did nothing but ask one another questions; so I mastered my owncuriosity, and replied to him.
"Why," I told him, "Amos tied me to a tree, and left me in thewilderness to starve. And then I fell into the hands of savage men, towhom I shall be ever grateful. From their dwellings in the forest Ijourneyed alone to Cahazaxa's Temple, and thence across the plain to theWood of the Red Fish, where I find an old friend, and still believe thatI am dreaming. It is months now since I last set eyes upon a white man,and that was Amos Baverstock himself."
"Months!" cried Rushby in amazement. "You've not seen Baverstock--formonths!"
He looked at me as if he thought that I was lying. I was at a loss toknow what he was driving at, though I assured him that I spoke thetruth.
"Months!" he repeated, holding his head between his hands, as if hispuzzled brains were paining him. "But we were told, two days ago, thatAmos held you prisoner."
"Who told you?" I demanded.
I was now as surprised as he, and even more astonished when I heard hisanswer.
"Baverstock himself," said Rushby.
"Amos!" I exclaimed. "You have seen him, then?"
"He lied to me!" cried Rushby, driving his clenched fist into the palmof a hand. "He lied to me! And Bannister was right."
"Bannister!" I echoed.
But Rushby, rocking his shoulders from side to side like a man whosuffers anguish, stamped a foot upon the ground.
"Oh, but I have done a fool's thing!" he cried. "I have been fooled,and I have sent John Bannister to death!"
I stood before him, speechless, gasping. Though I could make neitherhead nor tail of what he had told me, I could see with my eyes that theman was suffering torture in his soul. If Bannister was in danger, ifit was possible to save anything from the fire, it was I myself--and Ialone--who was capable of action, since Rushby was dead lame. And yet Imust first know the truth of the matter, for I was wholly in the dark.
I went to Rushby and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"Come, tell me what it all means," said I. "Tell me your story from thefirst."
He looked up at me, and then for the first time smiled--a sad smile,none the less.
"Sit down," he answered, in a calmer voice. "I will tell you all fromthe beginning, as quickly as I can."