The Burning Bridge, Philip Verrill Mighels [the lemonade war series .txt] 📗

sideways. He promptly entered with his torch, finding the foothold rough and insecure. The chamber itself was small and low. He could readily touch the ceiling.

Ahead it apparently ended in a wall, with a gaping crack. On moving there, however, he found, to his surprise, an angular turn, still wide enough to admit of easy passage. The way under foot was slightly upward. It was pitted rock, but surprisingly free from broken fragments.

Persuaded at once that no other man had ever discovered this channel-like chamber in the tufa, and that therefore no treasure would be found concealed in its depths, Grenville continued onward with unabated interest, curious to see how far the passage might extend.

It narrowed again, and pierced decidedly upward through the bulk of the huge rock mass. Obliged at last to stoop too low for comfort, Grenville began to wonder if the thing would never end. It appeared to be exceptionally straight for a natural tunnel in volcanic rock, but Sidney began to realize its upward incline had rapidly increased.

When he presently found himself enabled to stand once more erect, he paused to cast a light on the walls to confirm a new thought in his mind. He had finally remembered a feature long before noted on top of the terrace itself—the long straight crack through the massive tower of tufa and the "slip" that had once formed a shelf.

Not without a certain sort of excited hope did he now discover unmistakable signs that some convulsion of the island had at one time actually parted the right-hand mass of rock from the larger portion on the left and permitted the former to drop. If this channel could only continue——

He went upward again, more swiftly, wondering thus belatedly how far he might have come and regretting he had not thought to pace the distance. Through a place ahead he was barely able to force his supple body. Then came another passageway that was not only narrow but low. Fragments of stone were likewise under foot, and the passage formed another angle.

Beyond this turn he found himself confronted by more broken stone and a difficult ascent. But, toiling up there eagerly, he presently raised his eyes and beheld a bright white line, as narrow as a streak of lightning.

It was simply a crack through a shattered bit of wall that closed up the end of the passage. It was daylight—sky—that he saw thus slenderly defined, and the man could have shouted in joy!

He could not, however, escape to the outside world when he presently came to the wall. For all the fragments he loosened and threw back behind him, he could not open the exit, or even determine where it was. Only work outside could accomplish this end, and this he was wild to begin.

About to turn back and hasten to the terrace, he realized instantly how utterly impossible might be the task of finding the place from without. But Elaine was doubtless on the terrace. If only his voice could be carried to her ears, she could mark the spot at once.

But, although he called with all his lusty might, there was no response from the camp where Elaine was doubtless working. His torch was burning low, with the draught fanning constantly past him through the channel. It occurred to his mind to go back to Elaine and instruct her how she could assist him. He also thought to place his torch against the crack and permit its smoke to filter through and perhaps thereby blacken the fissure.

Until he felt he must save what remained, to illumine his way downward, he burned the torch close to the rocks. And thus, when he came to the larger cave again, he was once more obliged to depart with not even a sight of the treasure.

CHAPTER XXIX AN INTERRUPTED DIVERSION

Not only had Grenville to a small extent succeeded in smudging the outside terminal of the passage discovered through the rock, but also Elaine had discovered the smoke so strangely ascending in the air.

She had been thoroughly mystified by the singular sight, but had crept about the place inquiringly, expecting perhaps a volcano to begin some destructive demonstration. She had likewise fancied that rumbling sounds proceeded from somewhere in the "mountain." The entire phenomenon had finally ceased, however, greatly to her relief.

On a narrow ledge, some four feet down from the terrace-level, and directly beneath the extensive crack that had once been formed in the massive upheaval of tufa, the broken fragments that blocked the subterranean hallway were wedged to their places in the wall. The place was sunk in a shallow niche that was screened by the trees of the jungle.

This ledge Grenville not only promptly rendered accessible, but, after the opening had once been cleared, he fashioned a door of the lightest construction, that still resembled solid rock, with which to conceal it again.

His door was of wattle, plastered with clay, which he then thrust full of tufa fragments. These, when the substance presently hardened, were found to be substantially cemented to the framework. The clay itself dried yellowish gray and could hardly be distinguished from the rock. He was thus enabled to plaster over all the chinks and other ragged openings which the door could not completely cover. When the job was done, not the faintest suspicion of anything unusual about the niche could the keenest eye have discovered. Grenville was none the less glad, however, that the tallest foliage of the near-by growth still further concealed the spot.

He was toiling no less feverishly than before, thankful each day that the tidal wailing still continued and anxiously watching the round of the purple horizon for the cut of a rakish sail.

Despite the fact that several days had passed since the passage was discovered, he had made no effort to return to the treasure crypt below. The communicating gallery was too important to be neglected. He had spent long hours in its upper reaches, clearing the rock from underfoot, to make its use entirely practical for Elaine and himself in all conditions, either with or without some needed burden.

He had managed to widen the narrowest squeeze by chipping the rock with his chisel. He had carefully rearranged the broken fragments down where the corridor entered, or branched from, the cavern, and there provided a second of his wattle doors, considerably heavier than the first and more artfully studded with stone. This he had made to be adjusted from without or within the passage it concealed. From within it could also be barred in place with a heavy billet of the toughest wood his brazen tools would shape.

This late afternoon, when the last of his jugs had been taken down and concealed by the spring, all ready for filling and carrying back the moment occasion should arise, Grenville felt that, save for a meat supply, he had made nearly every possible provision against attack and siege.

The day was practically spent. He glanced at the sun. Undecided between an hour of hunting with his bow and a quick excursion down to the crypt of treasure, he remembered certain ornaments Elaine might wear and decided to go for the gold and gleaming jewels. They had meat for dinner, already being roasted in a sandpit with several newly gathered yams.

Elaine, with a basket of tempting fruits, returned to the terrace from the thicket before he was ready for his trip. The fact that he bore a torch and basket aroused no query in her mind, so frequently had he made his underground excursions.

He left the door at the gallery entrance open and made an easy descent. Glad to be independent of both the tide and his raft, he paused when he came to the main cave's ragged opening, for a moment thoroughly startled.

The weird tidal wail had just commenced, so close at hand it echoed all through the place. It had never before occurred while he was actually in the cavern. Immediately rendered curious to see whence and how it was produced, he hastened down the outside ledge, completely baffled by the intermingled reverberations.

He had barely concentrated his attention on a certain hole in the rock, below the tidal level, when the last uncanny moan seemed choked to a horrible gurgle which could not be renewed.

The thing had never before been so brief or so abruptly ended. Its brevity jarred upon him no less unpleasantly than its prolongation had done when he and Elaine first arrived upon the island. As if the occurrence sounded a warning not to be mistaken, he proceeded at once within the cave.

His mind was filled with thoughts of native visitors, who might only be waiting for this natural phenomenon to cease before they came swarming across the sea, perhaps to search and loot this very cavern. He reflected they might have searched it before, and had either been baffled by the water it formerly contained or had missed the niche his accidental interest had discovered.

Though he thought that less than half the wall he had previously assaulted could now remain in the arch of the treasure cavern, yet fully a half-hour's labor was essential before he could worm his way inside where the gold and the stones dully glittered. He cleared out a few more stones to admit his carrying basket.

A thrill went through him as he laid his hands upon the priceless treasures disposed in the tomblike place. Notwithstanding the fact the cave had been scaled, almost hermetically, a coating of thin, impalpable dust veiled everything he touched. The things had undoubtedly been here years on years, till perhaps tradition only still affirmed their existence, while old fanatics might, for generations, have persisted in tattooing that "map" on some victim's breast for the cavern's living concealment and the faithful preservation of its contents.

The gold was all wrought in ornaments—like anklets, bracelets, amulets, and girdles. It had all been crudely pounded into shape from virgin metal. There were pieces of odd, unfamiliar shape, the uses for which could hardly be conjectured. It was all of it heavy and massive, many pieces crudely resembling cumbrous seals with mystic devices stamped on either side.

Of the stones—comprising principally diamonds, rubies, and sapphires—many were still uncut, while others, by the handful, were crudely mounted in hammered gold to form girdle after girdle. A crown, exhibiting nothing of the jeweler's modern or even ancient craft, was none the less of extraordinary intrinsic value for the heft of gold that formed its band and the huge stones thrust rudely through its substance.

Despite his impatience to collect the lot in his basket and depart the place, Grenville remained there inactively, absorbed in a study of this piece or that, to identify, if possible, the curious workmanship. That much, if not all, the gold work argued craftsmen of the African wilds he felt convinced. But the stones could have come from India only, he was sure, either through tribute or plundering, and the latter was by far the more likely method.

He had heard from one of his oldest friends, who was likewise the best informed of all his military acquaintances, that the West Coast Africans still conceal vast treasures of kings or chiefs deceased, such buried wealth to be utilized by former possessors in some life beyond the grave. That this hoard, by some strange and unusual chance, had resulted from that barbaric practice he felt there could be no doubt. The fact it was hundreds of miles from Africa argued nothing against the theory, since either by imitation or as a result of far excursions over sea the present collection could have landed here in this remarkably hidden and "spirit"-guarded cave, where even the hardiest, cleverest seeker of fortune would never be likely to search.

He was still engaged, like some merely scientific archeologist, in examining piece after piece of the metal, or one after another of the stones, which were cut as never he had seen them before, when he fancied some weird,