Real Gold: A Story of Adventure. Fenn George Manville

down, and wondering at the absence of giddiness.

      “Nor from anywhere else, sir,” grumbled the man. “Why, if any one told me that if you dropped down there, you’d come out somewhere by Simla, I should believe him, for I know they go right through.”

      “Nonsense!” said Perry, laughing. “There, father’s beckoning to me.”

      It was evening once more, and they were coming again to an opening among the lower mountains, where they would halt for the night. In fact, half an hour later the leading Indian checked his mule in a bowl-shaped hollow, where there was a dense little wood of goodly-sized trees, and a thread-like fall of water came curving down into a mossy basin, while the whole place was brightened by the reflection from the mountains, made dazzling now by the setting sun.

      The preparations were made for the evening meal with quite military precision; the arms were placed near the fire, and, as if in imitation, the two Indians placed together their long stave-like blowpipes and bows and arrows, before helping to unload the mules, and then sitting down patiently to administer snuff to each other, and wait to be asked to join the meal.

      “It’s very awkward, Perry, my lad,” said the colonel suddenly. “We ought to have had a guide who could understand us more easily.”

      “It is awkward, father,” said Perry.

      “Come and help me now, and between us we may make the man comprehend.”

      Perry followed to where the Indians were squatting down in their loose cotton smock-frock-like garments, and at a sign the leader rose.

      “The other man – where is the other man?” said the colonel in Spanish; but the Indian gazed at him vacantly, till in a fit of inspiration Perry repeated his father’s words as nearly as he could, and then began to count, laughing as he said in Spanish, “One – two” – and gave an inquiring tone to the word “three,” as if asking for it.

      The man smiled and pointed to the ground as he answered, and then closed his eyes and let his head fall over upon one hand.

      “What does he mean by that, father?” said Perry.

      “I can’t tell, my boy, unless he wants to show us that the other man is coming while we sleep.”

      They tried again, but could get no farther. The Indian grew excited at last and voluble, making gestures too, pointing forward and then at the ground, ending by pointing at them in turn, throwing himself down and pretending to sleep.

      “I give it up,” said the colonel, turning away towards the fire; “but we must try to learn their language as fast as we can, or we shall never get through our journey.”

      A good meal near the fire, whose glow was comfortable enough up at the height they now were, and then father and son strolled a little way about their camp, the wood proving very attractive; but the darkness soon closed in, and they began to return toward the fire, which glowed brightly and cast the shadows of the Indians against the rock-wall as they sat prolonging their meal.

      “What is John Manning doing eating with them?” said the colonel suddenly. “I told him he was to keep those men in their places. They are my paid servants while – ”

      “He’s over yonder,” said Perry, interrupting his father, “stacking guns together, I think.”

      “Nonsense!” said the colonel; “there he is, sitting with the Indians, eating.”

      “He can’t be, father; I can see him over there.”

      “But look, boy, there are three shadows against the cliff.”

      “One – two – yes, there are three shadows,” said Perry dubiously; “but it is something to do with the fire.”

      “Absurd, my lad; there are three shadows cast by three men sitting there.”

      “I know,” cried Perry excitedly; “that is what the Indian meant – that the third fellow would be here to-night to sleep, or while we slept.”

      “To be sure,” cried the colonel, in a tone full of satisfaction. “I’m glad of it, not but what we could have got on without him, for the mules go well enough, but because it proves the guide to be trusty and a man of his word.”

      Chapter Five

      Perry is Startled

      The guide came to the colonel smiling as soon as he saw him seated, and pointed to; the other side of the fire, as he spoke words which evidently announced the coming of the promised assistant.

      The colonel replied in Spanish, and the Indian went back to his companions. Soon after, the smell from John Manning’s pipe rose on the cool night-air, and Perry sat talking to his father in a questioning mood.

      “When are we going over the top of one of the snow-mountains, father?” he said.

      “I have no intention of going over the top of either of the mountains,” replied the colonel. “We have nothing to gain but hard labour up there. We want to get through the first ridge, and on to the rich tablelands, or among the beautiful valleys.”

      Perry said “Oh!” in a tone of voice which suggested “Do we? I did not know.” Then aloud: “How high up are we now?”

      “About eight thousand feet, I should say; perhaps a little more, for it is rather cold. There, let’s get to sleep; I want to start early and be well on our way soon after sunrise.”

      The colonel had his desire, for, long before the lower part of the ridge was quite light, the mules were all loaded, and the party made their start, with Diego the Indian leading, the new arrival second, and the other man right in the rear as before.

      Perry had one glance at the new-comer, and made out that he was a more stunted fellow than the others. In other respects he seemed to be similar in aspect, but wore a good deal of radiating paint upon his cheeks, from which it was drawn along in lines right up to his brows, and downward toward the jaws. He wore the same loose, many-folded gown, reaching just to his knees, and carried a bow, arrows, and a long blowpipe, but he was wanting in his friends’ plumpness and breadth of shoulder.

      “Looking at the new mule-driver, Perry?” said the colonel. “Yes? Seems to be quite a stripling. But so long as he does his work well enough, it does not matter.”

      He did do his work and well, as it proved, trudging along by the mules, helping to unload and load again, managing those under his charge admirably, and proving to be most industrious in fetching water. But he was timid and distant to a degree, shrinking away when either of the English party approached him, and on one occasion showing so evident an intention to hurry away into the mountains, that the colonel checked his son when next he saw him making for the Indian lad.

      “Let him be,” said the colonel; “he’s wild as a hawk, and he doesn’t look particularly clean.”

      “No,” said Perry, laughing, “he is a grub. Those fellows don’t wash, I suppose, for fear of spoiling their paint.”

      They ceased then to take much notice of their fresh follower all through that day and the next; and the Indian trudged on beside the luggage mules, with his shoulders up and his head bent, as if he were carefully watching where he should next place his feet, speaking to nobody but Diego, when the guide left the leading mule for a few minutes to stop and look right along the line, inspecting the loads as the mules passed him, smiling at the colonel and Perry, and exchanging rather a fierce look with John Manning; for, somehow, these two did not seem to be the best of friends. Then he would let his companion who guarded the rear come right up, walk beside him, talking for a few minutes, and then start forward again at a trot, passing them once more till he had reached the leading mule.

      There was little change that day, always a constant succession of precipitous walls to right and left, their way being along a narrow shelf, with the stream they followed thundering beneath them, sometimes a hundred feet beneath, at others perhaps a thousand, and quite invisible, but making itself evident by the echoing roar of the rushing waters.

      They passed nobody, neither did they see a single animal to tempt