style="font-size:15px;"> “What is it?” shouted back the colonel.
“Hadn’t I better go back, sir?”
“Back? No. Come over!”
John Manning took off his hat and scratched his head, looking down at the hanging bridge and then up at his master.
Just then there was a shout from Diego and some words in the Indian tongue, which resulted in the other Indian offering his hand to the colonel’s servant, who resented it directly.
“No,” he growled; “I’ll do it alone. One must be safer by one’s self;” and stretching out his arms like a tight-rope dancer, he came down cautiously, stepped on to the bridge and slowly walked across, the Indian following at a trot, as if astonished at any body finding so good a pathway difficult.
“I hope there ain’t many more o’ them spring playthings, sir,” said John Manning gruffly. “I thought Master Perry was gone.”
“Nonsense!” said the colonel shortly. “That great bird startled him. Forward again; the men are going on. – Perry, my boy, you must give that Indian lad a knife, or something as a present: he saved your life.”
“Yes, father,” said the boy, looking dazed and strange. “I – I’m better now.”
“Yes, of course you are. Pish! we mustn’t dwell upon every slip we have. There, think no more about it,” he continued, as he noticed the boy’s blank, pale face. “Go on, and mount your mule.”
“I think I would rather walk,” said Perry.
“Walk, then,” said the colonel shortly, and he went on and mounted his mule.
“Quick! mano– hand!” buzzed in Perry’s ear, and at the same time he seemed to hear the booming roar of the torrent beneath his feet, and the rush of the huge bird’s wings just above his head – “Quick! mano– hand!”
“I say, Master Perry, sir, don’t look that how,” said John Manning in a low voice; “you’re as white as taller candle. You’re all right now.”
“Yes,” said Perry, trying hard to recover his natural balance. “I’m all right now.”
“You’ve made the colonel look as black as thunder, and it wasn’t our fault. They’ve no business to have such bridges in a Christian country. But it was enough to scare any one, my lad. I thought that there bird meant to have you.”
“That was fancy,” said Perry hastily. “I ought to have known better.”
“No, it wasn’t fancy, my lad. I think he’d have had you, only seeing us all about made him give you up. But it’s all right.”
“All right?”
“Yes, sir, we’re on the c’rect track.”
“Of course we are,” said Perry, as they marched on once more behind the mules, followed by the Indian.
“You dunno what I mean, sir,” said John Manning testily. “I meant on the track for one o’ them di’mond valleys. Know what that bird was?”
“Yes; a condor.”
“Con grandmother, sir. It was a roc, one o’ them birds as carried Sindbad out o’ the valley. This was only a chicken, I should say; but it was a roc, all the same.”
“What nonsense!” said Perry. “That was all fancy tale and romance.”
“Not it, sir. I might have thought so once, but I don’t now. Let me ask you this, sir,” said Manning: “suppose there was no way out or no way into the valleys we’ve come along, could you climb up the sides?”
“No, of course not.”
“And if you’d heard tell of birds with wings thirty foot across before you’d seen ’em, would you have believed in them?”
“No, and I don’t now.”
“What! after one of ’em come down to attack you, and we scared it away.”
“That was only about half the size.”
“Oh, come, Master Perry, sir, don’t get a haggling about trifles; there ain’t much difference between fifteen foot and thirty. You mark my words, sir, the colonel’s been studying up his ’Rabian Nights, and he’s on the right track now for one of them valleys, and we shall go back to San-what’s-its-name with these ugly-looking donkey mules loaded up with all kinds of precious stones. You’re a lucky one, Master Perry, sir, and your fortune’s about made.”
“Think so?” said Perry, for the sake of speaking, for he was very thoughtful.
“Yes, sir, I just do; and as for me, I hope it’s going to be my luck to get just a few nubbly bits for myself, so as I can buy myself a cottage and a bit o’ garden, and keep a pig, so as to live retired. You’ll come and see me, Master Perry, then, won’t you?”
“Of course,” said the boy, and then, making a trivial excuse to get away, he hurried along the line of slow-going mules to see that his father was right in front before their guide, who walked by the first mule; then there were three more plodding along, just far enough behind each other to be safe from any playful kick. By the head of the third mule their new Indian driver was walking with his bow over his shoulder, a handful of long arrows tucked under his arm, and his head bent down watching his footsteps.
Perry kept behind at some distance, watching the Indian’s every gesture, till he saw his father returning, for the track had become wider, and the boy watched intently; for he saw the colonel bend down from his mule and tap the Indian on the shoulders as he said a few words in Spanish. But what they were Perry was too far off to hear, the mules too making a good deal of clattering on the rocky track, which noise was echoed all around in a wonderful way.
“It must have been my fancy, but I could have been sure he said something to me in English,” muttered Perry. “I was so excited, I suppose.”
Chapter Six
A Night Alarm
“Did you give the Indian lad the knife?” said the colonel as they came abreast.
“No, father.”
“Go and do it at once, and mind how you give it; the fellow’s as wild as a hawk. I thought he was going to spring over the precipice as soon as I touched him.”
Perry took out the pocket-knife he had with him, and stepped forward; but a word from his father checked him.
“I don’t want to make too much fuss over this, Perry, my lad,” he said, “but you displayed a great want of nerve. You did not act like a healthy, sturdy, English boy, and but for that Indian’s quick decision, you would have lost your life.”
“Yes, father, I’m afraid so.”
“Then, for goodness’ sake, my lad, try to shake off this girlish cowardice, or you’ll make me regret bringing you.”
“I’ll try, father,” said the boy, his face flushing hotly.
“That’s
