Chapter V: Part 5

"Very well. I'll put it in the lingo of science as nearly as I can. It appears to me, then, that David, by this little exchange of pistol shots, as you call them, with General Herran, brought into activity a portion of his brain that had not, for a number of years, intruded itself upon his conscious life. It had literally been sleeping all that time. On the last occasion when it was awake--when, in other words, he was under the sway of this subconscious ego--he was here, amid the very scenes in which he again finds himself. A moment ago you connected his first disappearance with the one which has just taken place on the road from Honda. Well, the General's 'pistol,' as he calls it, suddenly threw David back into the memory of that first subconscious experience."

"The Ghost of the Forgotten found at last," mused Leighton, more to himself than to Raoul.

"Exactly! That's a good way to put it."

"Suppose your theory correct; what happened after David's subconscious memory was awakened?"

"As a psychologist, you are better able to answer that than I."

"I am not interested in abstruse problems just now. I am here simply to find David."

"Difficult, perhaps. I couldn't find him before. But at least I have given you the clew."

"Your clew doesn't explain. I don't know what to do with it."

"A restatement of my theory may clear things up. Through a combination of certain circumstances, exerting upon him a peculiar influence, David is living again in an environment and through a set of experiences that belong to him only when he is in what we call a condition of secondary personality. Discover that environment--the same, I believe, as the one in which he was lost three years ago--and you will discover David."

Leighton made no comment. He regarded Raoul with characteristic immobility. One gathered from his silence, however, that he was impressed with what he had just heard. Slowly pacing the length of the sala, he stopped before General Herran, who, through his ignorance of English, was in a quite helpless state of bewilderment at the turn the interview between the two men had taken.

"This young man will help us find Meudon," said Leighton in his broken Spanish.

"He knows where he is?" asked Herran eagerly.

"He knows--something," replied the savant with significant emphasis. "For one thing, General, those pistol shots you had with Meudon seem to have played the devil."

"Caramba! Does he say so? But that is foolishness!"

"No, it is theory," said Leighton drily.

"How will he prove it?"

"By finding Meudon."

There was a finality in the tone of Leighton's rejoinder which, more than the words themselves, indicated the seeker's conviction that the road to David's discovery was in plain view. Raoul Arthur, however, said nothing. Standing aloof from his two visitors, apparently not heeding them, his silence aroused Leighton's curiosity.

"Naturally, I depend on you, Arthur," said the old man, with an emphasis that sounded like a threat.

"I don't know why," he demurred. "David was with your party when this happened. I failed to find him three years ago, you know."

"There is no proof that you did anything then to rescue the man who was your friend and business partner," retorted Leighton. "This time failure might be fatal--for you."

The words and Leighton's manner had their effect. Shaking off his real, or assumed, apathy, Raoul faced his accuser angrily.

"I have given you the one clew of which I have any knowledge," he said, meeting Leighton for the first time eye to eye. "I have done what I could, I will still do what I can. But I won't act at the dictation of a man of whom I know nothing, whom I never even met until this moment."

"That's all very well," replied the other imperturbably. "But, as I said, I depend on you--quite naturally, it seems to me--to help in the recovery of your friend. My niece and I are in this country for the express purpose of solving David's former disappearance."

"Your niece?"

"Yes; the woman whom David expects to marry."

Raoul's defiant attitude vanished before this announcement. Irritation gave place to amazement, distrust turned to friendliness. Nor did he attempt to conceal his appetite for further news of David's personal affairs.

"David wrote me nothing of this," he said. "From his letter I learned that he was coming with friends. He did not tell me who these friends were."

"Well, there's every reason why I should be frank with you--as I expect you to be frank with me."

"You are still suspicious. What can I do, or say? I tell you, I don't know where David is."

"Do you know where he was when he disappeared from Bogota three years ago?"

"No."

"Strange! A man with all your interests at stake in this puzzle--surely you must have reached some conclusion?"

"I tell you, I have not," he replied sharply. "I know nothing, absolutely nothing."

"You admit you have a theory--let's call it that--a theory that fits the facts so far as you know them?"

"That's your deduction," sneered the other.

"But, I'm right?"

"Possibly," Raoul answered, turning again to the papers that littered his writing table.

"That's all I want," declared Leighton with satisfaction. "Now, we will plan our campaign."

Raoul, engrossed in a large, musty document which he had spread before him, greeted the proposal with a shrug of his shoulders. General Herran, impatient at the apparently futile and--to him--incomprehensible discussion, consumed innumerable cigarettes, while Leighton, with the air of one for whom waiting is an enjoyment, settled himself comfortably in a capacious rocking-chair.

The ensuing silence was rudely broken. There was a vigorous pounding upon the outer door, followed by the abrupt and noisy entrance into the house of some one from the street. Whoever it was, this late visitor stood little upon ceremony. But Leighton and General Herran had no difficulty in recognizing the nervous shuffle of feet along the stone corridor, the thump of the heavy walking-stick, accompanied by grunts of dissatisfaction and suppressed wrath. When Doctor Miranda finally bolted into the room, fanning himself as usual--although fans were a decidedly uncomfortable superfluity in the chilly night air of Bogota--they were, in a way, prepared for him.

"He is gone! He is lost--that leetle fellow! There is one more lost of them!" he shouted, repeating his disjointed English in staccato Spanish, as soon as he caught sight of his two friends.

Leighton and Herran exchanged amazed glances at this enigmatic bit of intelligence, while Raoul, preoccupied and restless though he was, could not restrain a grin at the unconventional being who had rolled his way, unannounced, into his house.

"What do you mean?" demanded Leighton.

"I tell you, he is lost, that leetle schoolmaster!" Miranda exploded.

"Andrew Parmelee lost? Impossible!"

"You are an estupido," retorted the Doctor angrily. "I say he is lost. Before my eyes he disappear. I never lie, I never mistake."

Not caring to discuss this announcement, Leighton tried to divert the torrent of words into something like a coherent statement. But in his present excitable mood Doctor Miranda floundered hopelessly in a morass of verbal difficulties and ended by telling his story in alternate layers of Spanish and English. From his account, however, his hearers were able to put together the main points of an occurrence that, vehemently vouched for though it was by the narrator, strained their credulity to the limit.

Early that morning, it appeared, Doctor Miranda, accompanied by the reluctant Andrew, had left Bogota for a visit to Lake Guatavita. The report that David's disappearance three years before had taken place there was given as the reason for the trip. Arrived at the lake, Andrew had declined to accompany the Doctor in his search among the cliffs that guarded the mysterious body of water, and had stationed himself near the cutting made centuries before by the Spaniards. This was a comparatively well sheltered spot and sufficiently removed from the precipitous shore which the cautious schoolmaster was anxious to avoid. His investigations concluded after the lapse of something like two hours, Miranda returned to the old Spanish cutting, expecting to rejoin Andrew. But Andrew was not there. Surprised at not finding him, the doctor at first supposed that the schoolmaster had grown tired of waiting and had journeyed back to Bogota alone. A single circumstance proved that in this he was wrong. There stood Andrew's horse where he had originally left him--and it seemed altogether unlikely that his rider had deliberately set out to cover the long and arduous miles to Bogota afoot.

"Another puzzle in psychology, I suppose," commented Leighton, with a sarcastic glance at Raoul Arthur.

The latter, however, in spite of the fact that Andrew was an utter stranger to him, appeared to be more amazed than the others by Miranda's story, and for the moment paid no heed to Leighton.

"When you found his horse you made a thorough search for your friend, of course, Senor?" he asked Miranda eagerly.

"Caramba! leetle fellow, what you think?" was the impatient reply. "I look, and I look, and I call--fifty times I call. If I can swim I jump into the lake to find him there. But I am too fat. So, I call more times, and I throw stones, and make the trumpet with the hands. It is no use. That leetle fellow say nothing. He is not there. So, I come away after long time."

"He is drowned, poor fellow," murmured Herran in Spanish.

"It is not possible," declared Miranda, turning angrily upon the general. "What make him drown? Of the water he is afraid. If he fall in--by mistake--he make a noise, he call to me. I am close by, I hear--I go to him quickly. But I hear nothing."

"Well, if he didn't drown, as our friend argues, what did become of him?" demanded Leighton.

"Ah, Senor," replied Miranda, his mobile features expressing hopeless bewilderment, "I do not know. It is just so as I tell you; he disappear, he vanish, he is gone. If I know where, I find him--I would not be here."

"So, there are two disappearances to account for," summed up Leighton. "Foreigners visiting Bogota seem to have the trick of vanishing. What do you make of it, Mr. Arthur?"

"I am as much at a loss as you."

"Hardly that, I should think. You, at least, know all about this mysterious lake. You know what happened there three years ago, for instance. And then you know----"

"You credit me with a great deal more knowledge than I can lay claim to," interrupted Raoul. "I never heard of this man who has been lost, as your excitable friend tells us, in such a singular manner--this Mr. Andrew----"

"Parmelee," supplied the other. "Andrew Parmelee, schoolmaster, of Rysdale, Connecticut. He is a very excellent person who, through his devotion to my niece and myself, has fallen, I fear, a victim to some strange plot. You will join us, I have no doubt, in his rescue. I am ignorant of the psychology of Guatavita. However, as I have already told you, I am here to add to my stock of psychological knowledge, and I fancy there are few who could teach me more, in cases of this kind, than you."

The sarcasm was not lost on Miranda, who shrugged his shoulders, muttered some unintelligible Spanish imprecation and exchanged a comprehending glance with General Herran. Raoul Arthur, on the other hand, ignored the tone Leighton had adopted in addressing him. In his reply he dropped the irritation and suspicion with which he had first regarded the old savant, and there was even cordiality in the manner and look accompanying his somewhat ceremonious acceptance of the task imposed upon him.

"If I thought it possible of so profound a scholar, Professor Leighton," he laughed, "I would say you were chaffing me. As it is, I feel the honor in your proposal that I should join you in solving these mysterious disappearances. Perhaps I can be of some help. At any rate, depend on me for whatever I can do."

"Two Americans unaccountably disappear in the heart of Colombia," mused Leighton. "If it were not for certain odd circumstances, I should say the country's indignation over the loss of Panama had something to do with it."

Against this suggestion Miranda impatiently protested.

"Impossible!" he shouted. "Always these people fight with the gun, the machete, if they are angry. They make much noise and talk; never they steal the enemies of their country and say nothing. It is one plot--and perhaps this senor will know," he concluded, darting an accusing glance at Raoul.

But Raoul, now thoroughly composed, smiled disdainfully, although agreeing in Doctor Miranda's rejection of Leighton's half-formed theory.

"If it is necessary," he assured them, "I can easily prove that I have had nothing to do with all this. I have not been out of Bogota for a month or more. Besides, I have the strongest business reasons for wanting the safe return of David Meudon to this country. As for Mr. Parmelee; I repeat--I never heard of him before. But, I agree with our friend here; the disappearance of these two men has nothing to do with the Panama trouble. It is something else. There is a mystery about it. I have no doubt it can be solved."

"You have the clew?" demanded Leighton.

"I didn't say that."

"Well?"

"Perhaps I know some one here--a woman--who could help us."

But that evening, after the departure of his visitors, Raoul Arthur found the little house in the Calle de las Flores tenantless, and learned that the woman, known to the neighborhood as La Reina de los Indios, had left Bogota, with all her household effects, a week before.

XI

IN WHICH ANDREW IS FOUND

Puzzled at not finding Sajipona, uncertain how to take up the promise he had given in regard to her, an altogether unexpected turn of events awaited Raoul at Leighton's hotel the next morning. Andrew Parmelee had been found. In the custody of two delighted police officers the missing schoolmaster, bewildered, quite speechless from his nocturnal experience, had made his appearance, scarcely an hour before Raoul's arrival. When, thanks to Miranda's persistent prodding, backed by the calm questioning of Leighton and Una's sympathetic ministrations, he found his tongue, the account Andrew gave of his adventure was so wildly improbable that his friends were inclined to believe he had been the victim of some temporary mental delusion. But this did not answer the threefold question: what had brought on his delusion, how had he escaped the vigilant Miranda, and how had he fallen into the hands of the police.

The two officers gave a simple statement of what, so far as they knew, had happened.

Late the night before, they said, Andrew had wandered into the alcalde's office in a little pueblo a few miles this side of Guatavita. His appearance, manner and mental condition--they hinted broadly enough that the luckless Andrew, when first found was in a very irresponsible condition indeed--called for the protection of the law. But as the poor gentleman, they said, was apparently suffering from nothing more than the effects of a too convivial outing in the country, he had been put in jail, not as a punishment, but rather as an act of humanity. Unable to express himself in Spanish, Andrew had evidently been something of a puzzle to the simple-minded officials of the pueblo. Out of his incoherent jumble of words, however, the name of a hotel in Bogota had been seized upon. A telephone message was sent to the municipal police, and the two officers who now had him in charge were detailed to conduct him in safety to his friends. Beyond this, the clearing up of the mystery of his temporary disappearance--if mystery it was--rested with Andrew himself. But he, for a time, was unable to satisfy the curiosity of his questioners.

"I don't understand it myself," he said hopelessly, addressing himself, in the main, to Leighton, whose calm demeanor was less confusing than the badgering of the excitable Doctor. "All I know is, that when Doctor Miranda went off to make some explorations on his own account, I felt a little nervous at finding myself alone in such a dismal place. Not frightened, you know, but just nervous."

"Why you not call to me?" demanded Miranda.

"There was really no reason to call for help, you see, as nothing had happened. So, just to pass the time until Doctor Miranda came back, I walked along the edge of the lake, feeling very miserable, I confess, wondering what had become of Mr. Meudon, and wishing that we were all out of this terrible country and back in Rysdale. At first, there was nothing to alarm me particularly; but the more I thought about the disappearance of Mr. Meudon the more nervous I became. And then, just as I was wondering if we would ever find him, and feeling more uneasy at the strange silence of that melancholy lake----"

"Caramba! You would have the lake to talk?"

"I--I heard footsteps among the rocks behind me."

"A sightseer from Bogota, I suppose," suggested Leighton.

"No, it was not exactly that--at least, I don't think so. But at first I really didn't turn around to see. I just kept on looking at the lake and going over some of the terrible stories I had heard about it."

"You see, this leetle fellow was quite mad with the fright," interjected Miranda. "He dream. He hear, he see nothing. Nobody was there. I know."

"I think, Sir, you are mistaken," protested the schoolmaster. "I admit I was nervous. But I was perfectly sane--and I was not asleep."

"Of course you were not asleep, Mr. Parmelee," said Una soothingly. "As for being nervous--any one would have been nervous."

"Well?" inquired Leighton impatiently.

"Well, Sir, as I was saying, I heard footsteps. They approached me. I made up my mind I had better see who it was. I turned around. And then I saw, a few yards from me, a stranger. How he came there without my having seen him before, I can't imagine. And then, thinking about this, I confess I became quite agitated."

"But what was he like, what did he say?" demanded Leighton. "It was a man, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, I am quite sure he was a man--a very tall man, and singularly dressed."

"'Singularly dressed?'"

"I thought so, at least. But then, I am not familiar with the fashions of this country. You see, it is very cold on the shores of the lake, and I should think that any one going there would want at least to be warmly clad. But this man had nothing on that I could see, except a long sort of toga, just like the pictures I have studied in Herodotus. It was looped up on one shoulder through what looked like a golden ring----"

"He dream! He dream! this leetle fellow!" laughed Miranda. "He is too good."

"And this toga fell down to a point just below his knees. It was a purple and white toga--or perhaps I ought to call it a tunic--with a fringe of gold tassels. He had sandals on his bare feet and wore no trousers--at least, I could see none."

"Caramba!"

"Really, Mr. Parmelee, you describe a very singular sort of person for this age and climate," said Leighton coldly. "Are you sure that your agitated state of mind--you admit you were agitated--did not create a purely imaginary apparition?"

"Did I not say he dream?" demanded Miranda triumphantly. "And the police say he drink. But that is not so--he never drink. I know. I am there."

"I am very sorry, Sir; I know it sounds ridiculous," protested the distressed Andrew. "But I am certain that I was not asleep--or anything else that these well-meaning gentlemen say. I am only telling you what I really saw."

"Well, tell us the whole story. Setting aside this person's remarkable costume, what was he like, what did he say?"

"I don't think he said anything. He was an Indian. That is, he was not a white man. I never saw any one just like him, so I may not be right about the race to which he belongs."

Andrew's confused statement brought protests from Leighton as well as Miranda.

"In this country," remarked Leighton dogmatically, "a man is either an Indian, a white, or a half-breed. There are no negroes up here, you know. The negroes all stayed on the coast. As for your inability to tell us whether he spoke or not--well, the whole thing begins to sound absurd."

But the rebuke failed to bring out anything more clear in the way of explanation from Andrew.

"Pray, Sir, remember," he expostulated, "that at the time of this stranger's appearance evening was setting in. The growing darkness prevented anything like a reliable estimate that I could have made of his features. In the twilight he seemed dark to me, although not so dark as the average Indian. And yet, allowing for the twilight, he certainly was not a white man."

"But what happened?" urged Leighton.

"He appeared surprised at seeing me. And then he smiled, approached to where I was standing, and waved a sort of salutation to me. I think he may have muttered some words, either of invitation or friendly greeting. But if he did, it was not in English, nor in Spanish."

"He, at least, was not agitated, it seems! But as you were afflicted with more than the usual amount of timidity, I suppose you avoided him."

"I assure you, Sir, that as soon as I saw this person, I felt no further fear. There was nothing threatening in his manner. And it flashed through my mind that he could give me some information about Mr. Meudon. I observed that he beckoned me to him--and as he did so I followed."

"Well?"

"That was the singular part of it. There was every reason why I should not go with him--at least, not without first notifying Doctor Miranda. But this strange being smiled so pleasantly and seemed so friendly that my feeling of nervousness passed away, and I was eager to go with him. This I did. Apparently he retraced his steps, leading me along the shore of a little inlet to the lake until we reached a high wall of rock that I had not particularly noticed before. Here he stopped and looked at me, still smiling, as if to make sure that I was following him."

"Do you think you could identify this wall of rock if you were to see it again?" asked Raoul Arthur, speaking for the first time.

"I am sure I could," said Andrew, "because we stood in front of it for some time, this strange person in the toga passing his hand over its surface, while I wondered what he was going to do next. I noticed that it was a very high and blank wall indeed."

"Where was it?"

"Just next to the cutting that Doctor Miranda had told me was made by the Spaniards to drain the lake."

"I did not see this wall," expostulated Miranda. "You are in one dream."

"Never mind," snapped Leighton; "go on with your story."

"I am afraid you will believe me less than ever," said Andrew deprecatingly. "But I am only telling what I am certain I saw."

"Go on."

"As he passed his hand over the surface of the wall he gradually turned to one side until we stood before a narrow cleft in the rocks."

"It is not there," interrupted Miranda contemptuously. "I examine all this rock. It has no--what you call?--cleft."

"I am very sorry, Sir, but I know that there is such a cleft. I think that is what you would call it. You might easily have overlooked it, Sir. It was only a narrow opening in the rock, facing away from the lake and reaching up not more than about three feet from the ground."

"I remember it," declared Raoul.

"Pray go on with your story, Mr. Parmelee," Leighton commanded.

"There is not much more to tell, although the little that remains is quite the most extraordinary part of it. Pausing an instant before this opening in the rock, my strange guide crouched down until he was able to pass within it, beckoned me to follow him, and then disappeared."

The schoolmaster spoke with difficulty, hesitating every now and then for the word that would best express what had happened. Having plunged into his story, however, he went bravely on, gaining courage as he recalled his singular experiences, and impressing those who heard him with the sincerity, if not the truth, of the narrative. Of all his auditors Raoul, apparently, followed him with the closest attention. His attitude, indeed, seemed to indicate a belief, on his part, in Andrew's statements.

"I hesitated about following this unknown man into so strange a place," continued Andrew; "but his manner was so perfectly courteous and friendly--and then I thought that behind all this mystery there might be something to help us find Mr. Meudon--that I made up my mind to keep with him as long as possible. I crouched down, therefore, as I had seen him do, forced my way through the narrow opening in the rock, and presently, after a little difficulty, found myself in a dark passage that afforded me room to stand upright and move forward. I could dimly perceive my guide walking at some distance in front of me, and I hastened as well as I could to reach him. In this I did not succeed, and so we followed the passage, he leading and I after him, for a hundred yards or more, until we came to an abrupt angle in the wall where the uneven path made a sharp dip downward. Here I stopped, having completely lost sight of my guide, and after waiting a short time I called to him. No answer came that I could hear, and in the darkness that surrounded me I began to grow confused and alarmed. It seemed to me I had been lured into some sort of trap. Repenting of my folly for having ventured so far into such a dismal hole, I determined to get out of it as quickly as possible. This, I thought, would be easily done because, to the best of my knowledge, I had followed along a straight corridor and, if I turned back, I would soon come within sight of the opening that led to the lake. But either I had miscalculated the distance I had walked, or else, in turning to go out I started in the wrong direction. At any rate, I had not gone very far before I found myself in a labyrinth of passages. I perceived this by feeling along the wall. And so--there I was, without any clew to help me in choosing the right passage.

"I scarcely know what I did when I realized that I was hopelessly lost in this pitch black cavern. For one thing, I shouted for help, thinking that possibly Doctor Miranda might hear me. But the echoes from my voice were more terrifying than the silence. The air was stifling; the ground appeared to move beneath my feet; the darkness was like a heavy veil winding closer and closer about me. Then, unable, as it seemed to me, to move or breathe any longer, everything went from me. I sank to the floor unconscious. And that's all I remember."

"But--how you say that? You are here, leetle fellow," blurted Miranda. "You are all right."

"Yes, I am here," Andrew assented woefully. "But I don't know how I got here. When I came to myself again I was lying on the shore of the lake. It was quite dark. My horse had gone----"

"That is right; I take him," corroborated Miranda, with satisfaction.

"I don't know how I succeeded in doing it--I suppose it was instinct--but I managed to follow the trail on foot, and after a desperate struggle I reached the village where the people helped me to get back to Bogota."

Andrew's story was variously received. No one could doubt his honesty. With such transparent simplicity as his, it would be difficult to suppose him capable of drawing--consciously at least--upon his fancy. Doctor Miranda suggested that he merely dreamed what he afterwards took to be reality. But the others, discrediting this theory, were apparently inclined to accept the story, so far as it went, in spite of its fantastic and well nigh incredible features. Raoul Arthur appeared particularly impressed and proposed immediate action.

"I know the cleft in the rock," he said. "I have been over a small part of the passage to which it gives entrance. It was there, three years ago, in our attempt to undermine Lake Guatavita, that a charge of dynamite exploded, after which David Meudon disappeared. I had no idea that this passage extended back into the mountain as far as it does, according to Mr. Parmelee's story. But now--it strikes me, Mr. Leighton, that chance has given us the clew you were seeking last night. If you are still anxious to trace David's whereabouts, the path lies down the passage entered by Mr. Parmelee and his togaed, sandaled guide."

"You want to explore it?" demanded Leighton.

"I do."

"But why, if it was already known to you, have you not done this before?"

"The natives have always fought shy of going into it further than our mining operations made necessary. Besides, I never had any reason to suppose that it was more than a mere natural formation of rock--as it probably is--extending a short distance into the main body of the mountain."

"And now?"

"I have no theory to advance. But," he added significantly, "it was in this unexplored tunnel that David disappeared three years ago."

The reminder had its effect. This linking up of the mysterious tunnel that had so nearly proved fatal to Andrew, with David's first adventure suggested the possible solution of a problem that had baffled them until now. In spite of Miranda's derisive comments on the schoolmaster's "fairy tale," there seemed to be only one thing to do--explore the tunnel. It might lead nowhere, and in that case the labor and the risk--if risk there was--would be of small account. If, however, it was the entrance to a subterranean dwelling, inhabited by people of whom the strange being described by Andrew was a specimen, the discovery was well worth making.

"We will rescue David!" exclaimed Una, the eagerness of hope in her voice.

"But, my young lady," protested Miranda; "he go away many mile from this tunnel."

"That is true," assented Leighton.

"All the same, David was lost there before," Raoul reminded him. "It is a clew we are bound to follow."

The question remained, how carry out the proposed exploration? Equipped with miners' lamps, a number of which, of the best pattern, were still among the stores David and Raoul had brought to Colombia at the beginning of their venture, the worst difficulty--darkness--could easily be overcome. Firearms, a supply of provisions, and oil for the lamps, were other items obviously needed. But the essential thing was, as Doctor Miranda tersely put it, "brains"--a cool-headed leader who would bring them back to the entrance of the tunnel in case of danger. General Herran, with his military training and experience, was the man for this rôle. This hero of unfought battles was thereupon chosen captain of the expedition--not, however, without some modest disclaimers of ability on his part.

"There will be five of us then," remarked Leighton. "General Herran, Doctor Miranda, Arthur, Parmelee and myself."

"There will be six," amended Una.

"Six?"

"I will be one of the party."

"Preposterous! You might as well make it seven, and include Mrs. Quayle."

"I wouldn't think of going," declared that lady quivering with agitation.

"It is not for the womens," argued Miranda, in his most conciliatory manner. "There may be troubles, and we want only the mens."

Una turned on him fiercely.

"I don't believe there is any danger," she cried; "but, anyway, I am going. I am certain David is there. I will go!"

To all of which Miranda gave an untranslatable exclamation denoting sympathy, admiration for the pluck of this unexpected volunteer. Leighton, however, was less easily moved, and it was not until his niece assured him that she would return if the expedition promised to be a dangerous one, that he consented to her passionate plea.

XII

A DEAD WALL

Mrs. Quayle objected to being parted from Una. She objected vigorously--vigorously, at least, as compared to her usual manner of taking things. She complained that guarding the baggage in a strange country, where it was impossible to make even her simplest wants intelligible, was not the sort of thing she was there for. But she could not turn Una from her purpose; nor was it any easier, once his consent was given, to move Leighton to a reconsideration of the matter. Only one thing was left for her to do. If she wished to keep within reach of Una she would have to accompany her on the expedition--"the picnic," as Leighton grimly called it. She hated to do this, but, as solicitude for Una was stronger than concern for her own safety, she had ended by tremblingly begging to be of the party.

"Let her come," said Miranda derisively. "It will not be for long time."

So Mrs. Quayle, much as she hated adventures, got what she wanted.

Early next morning, mounted on mules and carrying their supply of provisions neatly packed in hampers, they reached Lake Guatavita. Judging by appearances, one would say that they were after nothing more serious than a day's outing. The air was crisp and sparkling, of that crystal clearness peculiar to Andean altitudes. The lake laughed in the sunlight; whatever there was of gloomy legend connected with it slumbered beneath its silvery surface. Even the timorous felt the joy of the place and indulged in hopes of high adventure. Miranda was in the best of humor; Leighton, although maintaining his reserve, relaxed something of his usual severity; while the rest of the party was in high spirits, showing scarcely anything of the mental and physical strain to which they had been subjected during the last twenty-four hours. Only Una appeared anxious. Raoul Arthur, the more she saw of him, disquieted her. She disliked him intensely, she could not tell exactly why. He was assiduous in his regard for her comfort, but, in spite of his outward friendliness, she was haunted by certain hints that had come to her from David, hints that made of Raoul, in some inexplicable way, an active enemy to the man she loved. She was suspicious of him. His presence on the expedition that had David's rescue for its purpose made her twist everything he did into something treacherous, of danger to all of them. Her uncle, apparently, did not share her feeling. On the contrary, he seemed to rely more and more on Raoul for advice and direction in carrying out the project upon which he was engaged, and thus there grew up between the two men a confidence that Una, had she tried, would have been unable to shake.

Andrew, of course, still smarting from the experience of two days before, could not be expected to make so speedy a return to the scene of his adventure without some trepidation. But whatever sensations thrilled his susceptible heart, he put on a brave front and did not flinch from the part he was expected to take in the expedition. There was that dreadful lake, there the wall of rock he had described, and there the inconspicuous opening to the tunnel from whose hidden dangers he had been so mysteriously rescued--he faced it all and braced himself for the inevitable explanations. But his knowledge of the place was far less than Raoul's.

"It was through this opening to Mr. Parmelee's tunnel that we entered upon the excavation by which we hoped to drain the lake three years ago," he remarked.

From an engineering point of view the statement was mystifying because the opening of the tunnel was almost on a level with the surface of the lake. Thus, it was difficult to see what would have been gained had the waters of the latter been diverted into the tunnel. It was explained, however, that an intersecting tunnel at a very much lower level furnished the desired outlet, and the miners had planned to connect with this. As Leighton and the rest were not concerned in these bygone matters, the abortive attempts of the mining company to use this subterranean passage in the mountain was not traced out in detail. Time was urgent; there was no telling how long they might be in the tunnel. If they wanted to avoid making a night of it they would have to hurry.

Unloading the mules, therefore, of their provisions, and leaving these melancholy animals in the care of two peons who had come with them from Bogota, the picnickers equipped themselves for their adventure--that is, they fastened the miners' lamps to their hats. In the case of the men this was not difficult. But Mrs. Quayle's extraordinary headgear, architecturally deceptive and insecure, proved so hopelessly difficult that its estimable owner was forced to do without the adornment of tin and kerosene provided for her. The more stable bit of millinery worn by Una was tractable enough, and with her lamp attached firmly to her gray felt hat she looked the part she expected to play.

The opening to the tunnel was much as Andrew had described it, an inconspicuous, narrow rift at the base of a great wall of rock. In nine cases out of ten it would pass unnoticed; so small an aperture, concealed by bushes and trailing vines, was safe from the most inquisitive travelers. That so timid a person as the schoolmaster had discovered (no one took seriously his tale of the togaed and sandaled stranger) and forced his way through this opening caused no end of wonder. To accomplish the same feat drew forth many a groan from the corpulent Leighton and Miranda. As for Mrs. Quayle, what with the squeezing and tugging needed to gain an entrance into the region of terrors beyond, and anxiety lest some of her jewelry might be lost in such strenuous effort, that good lady came dangerously near a condition of hopeless panic. Undoubtedly she would have abandoned the expedition then and there had it not been for the jeers of Miranda who assured her she was developing symptoms that called for a generous dose of his infallible pills. Such a goad would electrify the stubbornest of mules and a series of desperate struggles brought Mrs. Quayle victoriously through the tunnel's entrance.

This first step in their subterranean travels surmounted, the explorers, having lighted their lamps, found themselves in a spacious rock chamber, the walls of which rose above them to a majestic height. Andrew, especially, was amazed at what he saw, declaring that it was all quite different from his first experience in the same place. When it was remembered, however, that on this former occasion the schoolmaster had only the feeble glimmer of light that found its way through the opening of the cave to show him where he was, the difference between his two impressions was not surprising. But it puzzled his companions to choose the route they were to follow in their explorations. Here Andrew could not help them. Two passages were discovered leading from the chamber in which they stood. One went straight ahead, offering a fairly easy, unobstructed path to the explorer. The other, a branch from the main tunnel, was narrow, strewn with debris of fallen rock, and altogether forbidding in the glimpse that could be had of the first few hundred feet of its course. One feature, however, belonging to this smaller tunnel gave it the preference. But before discovering this feature and making their choice the explorers thought it best to inform themselves, as well as they could, of the character of the cave itself. In this Leighton naturally took the lead, and from his investigations it was concluded that, unlike other caves, the origin of the Guatavita cave was primarily volcanic and due only secondarily to the action of water.

The implement employed by Nature in fashioning her underground caverns is usually water. Some mighty spring, deep within the earth's bosom, seeks an outlet for its accumulating current. It forces its way through whatever porous layer of rock comes in its path, and by persistent action, occupying ages of time, disintegrates and destroys it altogether. There is left, as a result of the subterranean stream's activity, a series of tunnels, widening out oftentimes into great rock chambers, and extending, in several well known instances, for many miles. Wherever water is the sole architect the lines that it carves, the forms it molds, are smooth, well-rounded; there are no jagged edges, sharp angles in the fairy palaces and intricate labyrinths that it leaves as specimens of its artistic method. The walls of the Guatavita tunnel, however, were eloquent of a totally different force employed in their making. The marks of an angry Titan were upon them; the Titan of Fire. They told of an elemental tragedy, swift and cataclysmic in its action. The deep scars in their surfaces, the rough crags and pinnacles jutting from them, were the epic characters in which the monster's struggle for freedom were written down for all posterity to study and wonder at.

Thus, Leighton did not hesitate to attribute an igneous origin to the cave, and it was after a close examination of the earth and pebble-strewn floor that the smaller tunnel was chosen as the best for exploration. There were footprints in both tunnels, but in this one they were more numerous than in the other, where they had been made, according to Raoul, at the time dynamite had been used in the excavations. Comparing these footprints, those in the larger tunnel were evidently from ordinary shoes, while in the smaller they bore the impress of sandals.

"Andrew's man in the toga is the one we want," remarked Leighton, a decision that added to Mrs. Quayle's agitation and did not appear to increase the schoolmaster's desire for adventure. The discovery of the imprint of sandaled feet, however, changed Doctor Miranda's attitude toward Andrew from banter almost to admiration.

"It is true, what he say, this leetle fellow," he declared in astonishment. "He follow him here, the sandals--and he is alone. He is brave man, this Parmelee!"

Raoul remained silent and Herran shrugged his shoulders skeptically. After all, it was difficult to believe, on the strength of a mere footprint, that the singular being described by the schoolmaster actually existed and had disappeared, like some wraith, in the depths of the cave.

"That will be a hard path to follow," said Raoul finally. "I tried it--once."

"What did you find?"

"Nothing--a dead wall."

"Mercy!" ejaculated Mrs. Quayle, not catching his meaning.

"There was no danger that I could see," continued Raoul; "but there was hard traveling, and no result worth the effort."

"Did you notice these footprints when you were here before?"

"It was the footprints that led me on."

"I don't see your footprints here. All these marks are from sandaled feet," retorted Leighton.

The discovery did not attract attention. It seemed of slight significance to the others; but the savant continued his examination of the ground with redoubled interest. Raoul also showed astonishment at the fact pointed out to him, and at first offered no explanation. Obviously, a footprint in a cave, not subject to effacement by wind or weather, should remain indefinitely, unless destroyed by man or animal. But, curiously enough, the sandal prints were not sufficiently numerous to stamp out all vestige of the prints that must have been made by Raoul in his coming and going through the tunnel--if Raoul had really ever been in this tunnel. So Leighton argued, and the conclusion that Raoul had not been there at all seemed logical. Had he deliberately deceived them--a supposition for which there appeared no motive--or was he himself mistaken in the course he had pursued in his exploration some years ago?

"Well, there it is," laughed Raoul. "Your reasoning is sound. My footprints ought to be here, but they aren't. I can't explain it."

"It is not worth while," exclaimed Miranda impatiently, adding not over lucidly, "they take them away."

"Perhaps Mr. Arthur wore sandals," suggested Andrew, illuminated by a brilliant idea.

"Whatever happened, Uncle Harold," said Una, who had ventured into the tunnel some distance ahead of the others, "what difference does it make now? We are losing time from our search--from your picnic, Mrs. Quayle!"

"Picnic!" she shuddered. "How can we picnic with dead walls and mysterious footprints all around us?"

"Good!" exclaimed Miranda in response to Una's appeal. "The womens always are captains--the mens must follow!"

There being no objection to this way of putting it, Leighton and Raoul gave up the puzzle of the footprints and set out seriously to explore the tunnel.

They soon found, as Raoul said, that traveling here had its difficulties. Huge boulders that took some little dexterity and sureness of foot to get over obstructed the narrow passage. For Una, who showed surprising agility, such impediments were not disconcerting; but Mrs. Quayle found them not at all to her liking. Progress with that bewildered lady was necessarily slow and, in some unusually rough places, had to be made by a system of shoving from behind and hauling from above that kept her in a state of breathless agitation. This was increased by imaginary terrors, chief among which was the constant dread of meeting the apparition described by Andrew, whose story had made a deep impression on her mind.

As a matter of fact Andrew's man in the toga was not in evidence, except as the occasional imprint of a sandal on the floor of the cave suggested him. But the explorers were too busy surmounting the obstacles with which the tunnel was strewn to heed details that otherwise might have arrested their attention. The sharp edges of the rocky wall played havoc with their clothing, drawing from Miranda, incensed at his own rotundity, a choice series of expletives--fortunately in Spanish--and arousing the wrath even of Mrs. Quayle. After the first five hundred yards, however, the passage widened sufficiently for them to look about and take account of the perils--if there were any--facing them.

The endless vista of rock, hewn in every conceivable shape and lighted dimly by the rays from their lamps, was dispiriting, to say the least. With the passing of the tunnel, however, and its alarming sense of premature entombment, even Mrs. Quayle experienced a faint return of confidence, while the schoolmaster, her companion in misery, began to feel a mild curiosity in the outcome of an adventure for the undertaking of which he had been the unwilling cause. He wondered vaguely to what further depths of this hole in the mountain the more enterprising spirits of the party would lead them.

"I am sure I never came as far as this," he protested.

"Well, what of that?" demanded Leighton.

"He say he never come here!" crowed Miranda. "Very well, my leetle fellow, you are here now."

"Yes, but--how far will we go?" he persisted.

"You remember nothing of this?" asked Raoul.

"I--I rather think I stopped in the beginning of the tunnel."

"But here are the footprints," said Una eagerly.

"They are made by sandals. I never wear sandals," said Andrew sadly.

"Of course. They make by the other fellow."

"By that man who wears a toga?" asked Mrs. Quayle anxiously. "It would be awful to meet him in this place."

"She is afraid, this old lady--she have nerves!" announced Miranda. "She better go back."

There being sound sense in the observation, the others stopped to consider it.

"I could never find my way alone through that tunnel," declared Mrs. Quayle.

As this was quite obvious, something had to be done. No one wished to desert the unfortunate lady; at the same time all, with the exception of Andrew, were anxious to press on without delay. Miranda, in terse Spanish, explained the difficulty to General Herran, who shrugged his shoulders disgustedly, expressing emphatic disapproval of women as explorers.

"We must do something before we go any further," said Raoul. "There may be a long journey ahead of us."

"Do you expect it?" asked Leighton.

"I have no idea where we are."

"That means----"

"We have passed the dead wall."

"Merciful heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Quayle, "we are lost!"

"Hardly that," said Una reassuringly. "It will be easy to go back the way we came. But this cave is too delightful to leave. I never breathed such air."

There was ample warrant for Una's enthusiasm. From the stifling atmosphere of the tunnel the explorers had entered a great rock chamber that widened as they advanced, opening up vistas of majestic spaciousness that contrasted strangely with the straitened path they had first followed. Overhead the outlines of a vast arching roof could be dimly made out by the flickering light from the lamps. At either side the dusky walls, with their flanking pinnacles and fantastic gargoyles, suggested the ornate escarpment of some Gothic cathedral. More noticeable even than these architectural features, was the delightful atmosphere, mild, fragrant, invigorating, pervading the great silent spaces. Usually the air in the famous caves familiar to tourists, although pure enough, is chilly and damp, so much so that the explorer is forced to exercise in order to keep warm. Here, on the contrary, one enjoyed the temperature of a perfect day in early summer--a fact that had called forth Una's praise, and was silently noted by Harold Leighton as one of the novel features of the Guatavita cave.

"Of course we must go on," Leighton decided impatiently. "If Mrs. Quayle is nervous, she had better wait for us outside."

"Perhaps I will be only in the way here," said that lady contritely. "But what will you do without me, Una?"

"I will take her," interposed Miranda in a chivalric outburst. "Come!" he added, turning unceremoniously to retrace his steps to the opening of the tunnel, a point that could not be far away, although not near enough to be revealed by the light thrown from their lamps.

In spite of the extended area of the subterranean chamber in which they were standing, it was easy to return to the tunnel by simply retracing the path they were on. This path was marked by a depression in the uneven rocky floor across which it was laid. It was fairly smooth and overspread by a fine sand that bore the impress of many sandaled feet. There was no danger of losing one's way, and the energetic doctor, hurried along so as to spend the least possible time on his self-appointed mission. He did not notice that the terrified Mrs. Quayle, convinced that his invitation concealed a plot to rob her of her jewels, failed to accompany him. The others, amused at his abrupt departure, patiently awaited his return, watching the speck of light made by his lamp bobbing about in the distance. Presently the light disappeared, and they concluded that Miranda had entered the tunnel. But in this they were mistaken. In a few minutes they were startled by an explosive "Caramba!" followed shortly by the apparition of the doctor running towards them, breathless from his exertions, and exploding with mingled wrath and consternation.

"It has gone--lost! I cannot find him!" he shouted in an incoherent torrent of Spanish and English.

"What has gone?" demanded Leighton.

"We are lost! We are lost! The tunnel has gone!"

"Nonsense!"

"It is true! I go there. I not lie. I find the tunnel where we come--and it has gone!"

"Impossible! What did you find?"

"I not find it. It is true! I find there what this fellow say," he replied, turning savagely on Raoul. "It is--what you call?--one dead wall!"

XIII

MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD

Miranda was not dreaming--the tunnel had vanished. That may be a strong word for it; but anyway, whatever had happened, the tunnel was not to be found.

Returning by the path upon which they had entered the subterranean chamber, they were confronted by a wall of rock where the entrance to the tunnel should have been. They were perfectly certain that when they passed out of the tunnel, less than half an hour before, into the main body of the cave, this wall had not been there. Where it had come from, why they had not seen it before, were posers too puzzling to waste time over. No one had seen it, of that they were certain; and they couldn't have helped seeing it if it had been there. Hence they were forced to the astonishing conclusion that this wall had moved into its present position during the last half hour through some invisible, superhuman agency. The whole thing, in fact, was incomprehensible, ridiculous, absurd. But there it was, for all that--and it had its depressing consequences.

"You know that crocodile on the river," said Miranda impressively; "he open the mouth--the bird walk in. He shut the mouth--the bird is in one trap. So it is to us."