Chapter XV: In the Devil's Cave

"Remain here, Ulrich, until I return," said Barnwell, alighting.

"Yes, sir."

Armed for almost any encounter, young Barnwell started to find the cave in front of which he had had such a sanguinary struggle a week before.

He had no difficulty in finding it; but he was on his guard this time.

There lay the carcasses of the wolves he had slain, and the very fact of their not having been devoured was positive evidence that there were no other wolves in the neighborhood.

Glancing around, and listening for a moment, he became convinced that the cave was now tenantless, and so he passed on beyond the first point that he had before discovered, and began looking for the next.

Holding the diagram in one hand, and a revolver in the other, he was not long in finding it, and thus two points were gained that corresponded with it.

Again he consulted and compared.

Ten feet marked on the diagram, and then there was an index finger pointing east.

He paced the distance as accurately as he could, but by this time he had entered the cave so far that he could scarcely see about the place.

But he had come prepared for just such an emergency as this, and taking a candle and match from his game-bag, he proceeded to make a light.

He glanced cautiously around the dark and somber cave, and the first thing his eyes rested on were the forms of two dead wolf cubs, evidently belonging to one of the mothers he had slain the week before, and undoubtedly starved to death in consequence.

But this attracted his attention for only a moment.

Standing at the distance of ten feet from the last-discovered point, he held up a little compass that he wore as a charm to his watch chain, in order to ascertain in which direction east lay.

The tiny magnet finally stood still and pointed. The east lay to the right.

Again, by the aid of his candle, he searched for indications.

The walls were damp and seemingly solid.

Had he lost the lead? With the butt of his pistol he began rapping along the stone wall.

It seemed like original adamant.

Then he paused, and again consulted the diagram.

He seemed to have followed it correctly.

There were no further marks upon it, and he finally began to fear that he was on the wrong scent after all.

Again he went to the mouth of the cave, and retraced each point carefully.

There could be no mistake about it, provided he was in the right place; and if he was not, it was a strange coincidence that two such peculiar points should exist in more than one cave.

Once more he approached the side of the cave to which the index finger pointed, and made a still closer examination of it.

But it was as solid as granite could be, as indicated by sounds.

He was about to give up, with the idea that he was in the wrong cave, and began slowly to walk towards the opening.

Suddenly he remembered that in the Russian language "erweldt" signified west, a thing he had not thought of before.

With a glad cry he retraced his steps to the point indicated, and then began to examine the walls, which he found more broken than those on the other side.

There were faint indications of mosses in one or two places, and on sounding them he came upon one large rock that did not seem so firm as the others.

Holding his candle closer, he saw what might have been cement or something of the kind, and with a throbbing heart he drew a stout burglar's jimmy from his bag and began prying into a seam.

It was a powerful tool, worked by a powerful man, and soon the rock, which was fully two feet square, but of irregular shape, began to show signs of getting loose.

"Ah! this must be it," said he, as he saw bits of cement crumble and fall.

But it was no child's-play to move that stone, weighing, as it probably did, five hundred pounds, and held by the cement that had hardened for more than thirty years.

Little by little, however, he worked one end of it partially free, and saw that it stood out at least three inches beyond where it was, and in addition to this, the cement had now lost its hold, and with one powerful last effort the rock fell with an echoing thud some three feet to the bottom of the cave.

Within there was a rough chamber, five or six feet in irregular diameter every way; and if this was the Devil's Cave, as it was called, this one must surely have been his oven, so very like one was it.

Reaching in to allow his candle to light the place, he saw numerous bags, made of reindeer hide tanned without removing the hair.

"Thank heaven I have found it! Batavsky was as true as steel, and I will be true to his memory!" said Barnwell, holding the candle aloft.

It was fully a minute before he could summon sufficient courage to proceed further, so startled were his nerve over the sudden fruition of his hopes.

Then, mastering his emotions, he reached in and lifted one of the bags from its long resting-place.

It weighed fully ten pounds, and when he set it down upon the sill of the opening, there was a confused rattling and clinking inside of the hair-covered bag, a sound that only one coined metal in the world will emit--gold.

There was no need of opening it to make sure that the contents were genuine. The sound told that; and old Batavsky's truth, proved up to the point, was a further guarantee for it.

Taking out another one, he started with one in each hand for his wagon, by which Ulrich was waiting, like the patient, honest soul he was.

Nothing that Barnwell did surprised him. He honestly believed him to be more than an ordinary man, and capable of doing anything short of raising the dead; and when he him approaching with those unique bags in his hand, his curiosity was not aroused sufficiently to make him ask any questions.

Barnwell understood and had faith in him of the strongest kind.

Setting down the bags by the side of the wagon, he wiped the perspiration from his brow, and then, taking a peculiar key from his pocket, he proceeded to throw back the wagon-seat and to unlock the iron chest beneath it.

Now, Ulrich had never known that such a contrivance existed in the wagon before, although understanding that it was a very heavy vehicle; but he evinced no surprise, asked no questions.

Getting up into the wagon, Barnwell told him to hand the bags up to him, and without a word he did so.

Barnwell stowed them carefully away in the large iron box. Then closing it and locking it again, he motioned Ulrich to follow him.

The horses were securely fastened, and there was not a sound, even of birds, in that desolate locality, so all was safe.

Without exchanging a word, they went back to the cave and brought each two more of the bags, which were placed in the strong-box.

It was but little past noon when they began, and for two hours they robbed that golden cell of its treasures and transferred it to the wagon.

The bags were in an excellent state of preservation, for the place was perfectly dry, and besides, they had evidently been prepared with some unusual treatment which made them almost indestructible.

Finally the chamber was emptied, and Barnwell could but think of the toil and risk in transporting so much gold to such a far-off place. It seemed to him almost as marvelous as that it had remained there all those years without being recovered. But Batavsky was no ordinary man, and undoubtedly knew exactly what he was doing.

Ulrich's face was a study.

Had they been transporting bags of stones it could not have been more stolid.

He worshiped the young American, and for him it was to obey without a question, and this he readily did.

He often looked upon his position as an exalted one, as compared with what it would have been had Barnwell not saved him from a debtor's prison, which is only another name in Russia for a poor debtor's grave.

Well, when all the bags had been removed, it was found that the box was too full to admit of the last four, and these Barnwell placed at his feet after the seat had been returned to its place, showing nothing unusual.

"Now, then, back to the tavern, and not a word of this to anyone," said Barnwell.

"Sir, I am your slave," said Ulrich.

"Say not that. You are my servant, my companion and friend. We are both of us members of the same great order. You work in your way, I in mine. There are no slaves in our order, Ulrich."

"It must be so, sir, for you say it," he replied, turning the horses homeward.

This was conclusive.

The bags of gold made a heavy load, and bent the springs well down, but the horses and the wagon were strong, and these would have deceived almost anybody regarding the amount of weight they carried.

The roads being rough for some distance, they drove slowly and just before getting out into the open they met a hunter with a good string of game.

Remembering that he had gone out to shoot, and that they had no game, Barnwell stopped the peasant and bought his choicest birds, after which they drove to the tavern.

Barnwell handed the game to a servant, who afterwards held the horses while he and Ulrich carried the four bags of gold to his room.

Then the wagon was carefully housed, as usual, and the horses taken care of, after which Barnwell strolled leisurely into the bar-room, where the landlord and his wife were examining the game.

"Good luck to-day, I see."

"Oh, yes, I've had very good luck to-day; and will you oblige me by having one of those pheasants cooked for my supper, together with a stew in your best German style made of one of those hares?"

"Certainly, sir," replied the landlady, at the same time bustling away with the game.

"I am tired and hungry, so let me have the best you can do."

"With all my heart, sir."

"And, landlord, bring me a bottle of your choicest Johannisberg out here on the porch, where I can enjoy it in the shade."

The landlord hastened to comply.

"What an appetite it gives, and how generous a good day's sport makes a man," he mused. "A few such customers as this one is would make us rich, and enable us to pay off the thousand marks due on our place."

He set the delicious wine before him, and Barnwell drank a hearty draught.

"Ah! nowhere in the world can such wine be found as in Germany."

"I am glad you think so, sir, for I hope you will stay long with us, and be so well pleased that you will come again."

"I shall certainly remain with you, if I ever come back again, for I like both you and your good frau. But to-morrow I must away to Berlin on business."

"So soon?"

"Yes. My life is made up of business and pleasure. Business must have an inning now."

"I am sorry, sir," said the old man, sadly.

"Oh, well; others will come."

"Visitors are rare here, sir. Now and then a poor artist stops here, and sometimes tourists wander this way; but it is a life-time rarity to meet with a rich cosmopolitan like yourself, who is willing to help us along a bit."

"But you must be well off in any event."

"No, sir; although we should be if the thousand marks' mortgage was paid off."

"When it is due?"

"Within a week."

"And how much have you towards it?"

"Five hundred."

"All right; keep the five hundred, and here are a thousand to free you from embarrassment," said Barnwell, counting out the bills.

The old landlord was so overcome that he fell upon his knees speechless, seeing which, his wife ran to him, thinking him ill.

"Oh, Gretchen! Look at him; the good American gentleman has saved us and our home!"

"Oh, sir, what induced you?"

"The idea of making somebody as happy as I am myself. Take it and be happy. All I ask in return is that you be good to the poor and unfortunate."

"Oh, sir, bless you!" cried the landlord.

"Amen! And you shall have just the nicest dinner you ever had in your life," said his wife, brushing the tears from her eyes and hurrying away.