Part 22 (1/2)

So we journeyed towards the north-west, and came, full early in the afternoon, to open country. Before us we could see the rocky spurs and ridges--which were, in fact, the beginning of the foothills of the Andes--running northward for several miles, to end quite suddenly at the mora.s.s.

John Bannister had changed greatly since the days when I knew him first.

He looked as big and strong as ever, but had become pitifully thin; and I thought his hair was greyer, and there were deeper lines upon his forehead. His mouth I could not see, for he had grown a great beard, more than touched with grey. And this beard, merged into his long moustache, was spread like the beard of a paladin upon his chest.

We directed our way northward in a bee-line, so far as we could judge, towards the ravine where we had left William Rushby; and this compelled us to clamber over the rocky hillocks and to cross the gullies and declivities that intervened. It was hard work, and the sun was baking hot. And yet Bannister would not halt, even for food, for we both knew well enough that the boatswain's life was in the greatest danger.

”If Baverstock gets there before us,” said he, ”not only will he gain possession of the map, and thereby learn the secret of the Treasure, but there is very little doubt that he will put Rushby to death.”

”I think so, too,” said I. ”He has been baulked so often that he will not care to take further risks. However, I now believe the man to be quite mad. Last evening I saw him look for a long time at Forsyth, and I swear there was murder in his eye.”

”No such criminals are wholly sane,” said Bannister. ”Amos has done murder more than once, and he will never hesitate to do it again, if he thinks that he sees profit in the business. Rushby is defenceless. His wound has become septic, though I have dressed it often with what skill I have. There is a chance that the evil may spread; and in that case nothing can save his life but amputation of the leg. And that, of course, we have neither the means of doing, nor the skill to do it if we had.”

We were silent for a long time after that, though we hastened our footsteps, knowing that life and death were in the scales.

I was soon utterly fatigued, and could not fail to see that Bannister as well was well-nigh at the end of all his strength. For all that, we would not give in; for William Rushby was an honest man, to whom we both owed much, and we were determined, if we could, to save his life.

Presently, we began to doubt whether we would reach the ravine before nightfall; for the sun, as we could see, was descending rapidly towards the crestline of the Andes. Once only did Bannister pause, and then he stood stock-still upon a hill-top, shading his eyes with the palm of a hand and looking towards the west.

”Was ever anything more wonderful!” said he. ”I can never look upon a mountain without thinking of Coleridge's _Hymn before Sunrise_: 'Earth with her thousand voices, praises G.o.d.'”

He stood for a while like a man in a dream; and I, also shading my eyes, followed the direction of his gaze, and saw again the great and glorious mountains in the distance, like a rugged battlement, scarred and crumbled throughout aeons of old Time, rising thousands of feet before the red sky of evening. And I, too, though I knew naught of the poet, felt within me a sense of great awe and reverence for the most mighty works of G.o.d.

I would have lingered there, I cannot say how long, had not Bannister taken me by a hand and led me forcibly away with such long strides that I was obliged to run. He looked straight in front of him as he walked.

I could see that he was preoccupied with his thoughts, and I did not care to interrupt them. Looking about me, I thought I recognised the country. I was certain we could not be far from the ravine.

And a little after, on a sudden, we heard a shot, fired but a little distance to the front of us, towards the right.

Without a word we both began to run, and came, unexpectedly, upon the very head of the ravine.

The sun was now behind us; and we could see clearly all there was to see. Far down the ravine was the solitary tree to which Bannister had been bound when Amos had threatened him with death. And a few yards from this, near where the old camping-ground had been, were the figures of three men hastening in our direction; and these we recognised at once as Forsyth, Trust, and Amos Baverstock himself. Vasco we saw a little after come forth from the shadows of the Wood, so laden with cooking utensils and the like that he might have been a pack-mule, for he was doubled almost in half.

However, we took little notice of him; for our eyes were fixed upon the pathetic figure of poor Rushby, who was limping in great agony as he tried to run. It was clear from the first that he had little chance of escaping. It was inevitable that he must be overtaken almost at once.

Suddenly he pitched forward upon his face, and lay quite still upon the ground; and, since no shot had been fired, we guessed that he had fainted from pain and exhaustion. Amos pounced upon him as a cat springs upon a mouse.

I was, of course, unarmed, for I had left my blow-pipe by the Tomb. But Bannister, who carried his rifle, hesitated to shoot, for a very natural reason: at that range, if he fired at Amos, as like as not he might hit William Rushby. So, together, we set forward running, hoping that even yet we might not be too late to save the boatswain's life.

Amos was on his hands and knees by the side of Rushby; and as we approached he sprang to his feet, waving something in his hand.

”He has got the map!” cried Bannister, who at once brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired straight at Amos.

The singing of the bullet must have made Baverstock realise that he was not by any means as safe as he would like. For the man cast no more than a glance in our direction, and then turned upon his heel, to set off running down the ravine as fast as his legs could carry him.

Trust followed his example; and Vasco, the Spaniard, turned at once back into the Wood. I saw that Forsyth hesitated for a moment; and then, knowing full well that his strength was as nothing when compared to that of Bannister, he also turned and fled.

Bannister fired two more shots; but, as he was out of breath from running, neither of these had any effect upon Amos, at whom they were directed, save that they were near enough to make him run the faster.

Our first care, at any rate, was for William Rushby, who--as we guessed--had fainted from his great efforts to escape. He regained consciousness as soon as ever his face was bathed with water; and then, sitting up, he looked at us and groaned.