Real Gold: A Story of Adventure. Fenn George Manville

you know, I never thought o’ that.”

      “Come along, Cil,” said Perry, laying his hand upon his companion’s shoulder, and they strolled along to where they could look over the sparkling lights of the town, away across the glittering ocean, with its broad path of silver, and then back up to the huge mountain, whose icy top flashed in the brilliant moonbeams, while every here and there the deep ravines marked the sides with an intense black.

      They neither of them spoke, both feeling too sad at heart, but stood there, rapt in thought about the coming morrow, till they were interrupted by the coming of John Manning.

      “Colonel says it’s lights out, young gentlemen,” he said respectfully. “There’s allers something wrong in this world. – You ought to ha’ been with us, Master Cyril, sir, in this forlorn-hope job. But, I suppose, we must make the best of it.”

      “Yes,” said Cyril bitterly. “I suppose we must.”

      A quarter of an hour later the lads were in their bedrooms, listening to the hum of the mosquitoes, and feeling weary, but restless in the heat. Cyril felt as if he could not sleep for thinking of the coming day, but all the same, he went off soundly in spite of his depressing thoughts, and woke up with a start, to find that his father was standing by his bedside.

      “Half-past three, my lad,” he cried. “Up with you, and act like a man. Show our visitors that you can be unselfish, and let’s start them happily upon their expedition.”

      Cyril tried to say, “Yes, father,” cheerfully, but not a word would come.

      “Sulky?” said Captain Norton rather sternly. “I’m sorry that you turn like that. I’ll talk to you this evening, Cyril, my boy.”

      The boy drew his breath hard, but he said no word, only began hurriedly to dress, as his father left the room.

      Chapter Four

      Three Shadows

      “Hallo, sir,” cried Captain Norton, as they stood outside in the enclosure where the mules were being loaded, “where’s the a other man?”

      The Indian guide looked a little troubled, but spoke out quickly in his half-Indian, half-Spanish jargon.

      “He will come. He will meet us soon in the mountains.”

      “Is that to be depended upon?” said the colonel harshly; for the absence of one man of his force jarred upon his military precision.

      “Yes. I have always found the Antis trustworthy.”

      “But we shall be a man short for the mule-driving.”

      “No,” said Cyril quickly. “They want no driving. All you have to do is to start the leading mule, and the others will follow right enough.”

      “One more thing,” said the colonel, who had had many a weary march across the hot dusty plains of India. “Ought we not to take water?”

      “No; the Indians will take you from spring to spring. They know all the streams and falls in the mountains.”

      The mules were laden after a good deal of squealing and kicking, and, during the process, John Manning shook his head, and confided to Perry that the big leading mule with the bells had squinted round and shaken one hind-leg at him.

      “He means me, Master Perry, sir. I ought to have got that will done.”

      “Nonsense! it’s all right,” cried the boy; and soon after, an affectionate farewell was taken of the Nortons, it being decided, at the last moment, that the captain should not accompany them. Then the little mule train started in the darkness up the bridle road leading straight away for the mountains, Cyril sending a cooee-like call after them as they reached the first turn of the zigzag road, and, ten minutes after, they were slowly rising above the town, which still lay in the darkness below.

      The guide went first quite out of sight with the leading baggage mule, the others following; then the colonel walked next, beside his mule, with John Manning behind him; lastly, followed Perry with his mule, and the second Indian came last of all.

      The road was fairly wide at first, giving room for three mules to have walked abreast, but their habit was to keep in single file, and, in spite of all efforts on Perry’s part, his animal followed the example of others, and walked close to the edge.

      As the day broke, John Manning noticed the trouble his young master was taking, and he shook his head.

      “’Tain’t no good, sir; I’ve been a-trying as hard as a man can try to get the crittur to walk like a Christian, and he won’t. One of ’em ’ll go over the edge directly, and kill hisself, and serve him right.”

      But the mule team plodded on, in their slow patient way, higher and higher, while from time to time the travellers stopped to gaze back away over the town, at the glittering, far-spreading sea, till all at once, after surmounting the last zigzag up the side of the mountain, the leading mule turned a sharp corner and disappeared from Perry’s view, the others following, just as if they had entered a door in the side of the mountain. But, upon leaching the spot, Perry found that they had entered a chasm in the slope – a huge rift, not twenty feet wide, and made quite dim by the distance to where it opened upon the sky; while below, it rapidly ran together, and closed some forty feet beneath the ledge along which the path ran, and with a swift gurgling stream hurrying downward to the shore.

      It was Perry’s first sight of a mountain stream whose waters came direct from the melting snow of the heights above, where winter always reigned, but he could see little but an occasional flash as the mules plodded on close to the edge of the path, which, as it rose, grew narrower and more rugged. And, as they still ascended, and the walls on either side of the gorge shut out the light, the boy shuddered, and wondered whether the way would become more dangerous, for, if so, he felt that he dared not mount and ride where a false step on the part of the mule would send him down headlong from the shelf-like track, twenty – forty – why, it must be a hundred feet down to the stream!

      “Two, I should say, boy,” said the colonel, for Perry had involuntarily spoken aloud. “Don’t take any notice of the depth; you’ll soon get used to it. Look at the mules, how they keep to the very edge.”

      “Yes, it’s horrible, father. The guides ought to train them to keep close to the wall.”

      “The mules know best, boy. They are used to carry loads which spread out on either side, and they avoid the wall because it is as dangerous. They might catch their burden against it, and be jerked off.”

      “I don’t think I shall ever get used to such paths as this.”

      The colonel laughed.

      “Not in half a day,” he said. “In a short space of time you will run along them as fearlessly as if you were on an English road.”

      “But are there many like this?”

      “Pooh, this is nothing, Perry. You are going up into a land of wonders, where everything is so vast and grand that you will have no time to feel nervous.”

      “But what are we going for?” asked Perry.

      The colonel turned and looked his son full in the eye. Then, smiling:

      “Wait,” he said. “You will know in good time.”

      Perry felt abashed, and wished that he had not asked, mentally determining not to question his father again, while, as he recalled his conversations with Cyril, he began to feel that his new friend’s ideas must be right. Directly after, he felt sure that they were, for John Manning edged up to him, where the path was a little wider, and said in a whisper:

      “Master won’t tell you, then, Master Perry?”

      “Won’t tell me what?” said Perry rather shortly.

      “What we’re going after. Strikes me as we’re going treasure-hunting, and we shall get into one of them wonderful valleys you read of in the ’Rabian Nights, where the precious stones lies about so thick, you can scoop ’em up.”

      “Oh, nonsense!”

      “Do