Failure
Dinner was over at Captain Norton’s. Mrs Norton had left the dining-room, after begging her son and his visitor not to go out in the broiling heat. The boy had promised that he would not, and after he had sat listening to Colonel Campion’s – a keen grey-haired man, thin, wiry in the extreme, and giving promise of being extremely active – talk to his father about the preparations for his trip up into the mountains, Cyril gave Perry a kick under the table, and rose.
Taking the sharp jar upon his shin to mean telegraphy and the sign, “Come on,” Perry rose as well, and the two boys, forgetful of all advice, went and sat in the dry garden, where every shrub and plant seemed to be crying out for water, and looked as if it were being prepared for a hortus siccus beloved of botanists, and where the sun came down almost hot enough to fry.
Here the boys had a long discussion about the promise Perry had made in the boat; after which they waited for an opportunity.
Meanwhile, as the two gentlemen sat chatting over their cigarettes, Captain Norton, a frank, genial, soldierly-looking man, said:
“So you mean to take all the risks?”
“Risks!” said the colonel, turning his keen eyes upon the speaker, as he let the smoke from his cigarette curl up toward the ceiling. “You an old soldier, and ask that?”
“Yes,” said Captain Norton. “I have been here a long time now, and know something of the country.”
“Are the risks so very great, then?”
“To an ordinary traveller – no: to a man going with some special object or search – yes.”
“I did nut say that I was going on a special search,” said Colonel Campion quickly.
“No, but everything points to it; and as you came to me with letters of introduction from an old friend and brother-officer, I receive you as my friend, and treat you as I would a brother.”
“And as the man whom you treat as a brother, I am very reticent, eh?”
“Very,” said Cyril Norton’s father; “and if I try to know why you are going upon so perilous a journey, it is not from curiosity, but because I am eager to save you from running into danger.”
Colonel Campion held out his hand, which was taken, and the two men sat for a few moments gazing in each other’s eyes.
“If I spoke out, Norton, you would immediately do everything you could to prevent me from going, instead of helping me; so I am silent, for I have made up my mind to go, and no persuasion would stop me.”
“Then you are going on an insane quest of the treasures of gold said to have been buried by the Incas’ followers to preserve them from the Spaniards.”
“Am I?” said the colonel quietly.
“I take it for granted that you are; so now, listen. It will be a very dangerous search. That the gold exists, I do not doubt; and I feel pretty sure that the Indians have had it handed down from father to son. Where this gold is hidden in the mountains is a sacred trust, which they in their superstitious natures dare not betray. It means death to any one who discovers one of these hoards.”
“If found out,” said the colonel, smoking, with his eyes half shut.
“He would certainly be found out,” said the captain, “and if you persist in going, you must run the risk; but I beg of you not to take that boy Perry with you, to expose him to these dangers.”
“What am I to do with him, then?”
“Leave him with us. He will be happy enough with my boy Cyril; and my wife and I will take every care of him.”
“Thank you, Norton,” cried the colonel warmly; “I am most grateful. But you are wrong: he would not be happy if he stayed here and I went alone; I believe he would prefer running all risks with me. How odd!” added the colonel, smiling; “here he is, to speak for himself.”
For at that moment the door was softly opened, and Perry stood there, looking startled.
“Come in, boy, come in,” cried the colonel.
“I – I beg; our pardon; I thought Captain Norton had gone.”
“No, and we were just talking about you.”
“About me, father?”
“Yes; Captain Norton thinks it would be too risky and arduous a journey for you up into the mountains, and he says you are to stay here and make yourself happy with Cyril till I come back.”
The lad looked delighted.
“Oh father!” he cried. Then, quick as thought, his manner changed.
“It is very good of Captain Norton,” he said gravely, “but I could not stop here and let you go alone.”
“Don’t be hasty, Perry, lad,” said the captain kindly. “There, I’m going down to the wharf; you and your father chat it over, and we’ll talk about it when I return.”
He left the room, passing out through the veranda.
“Well,” said the colonel, looking away at the window, “I think he’s right, and you had better stay, Perry.”
“I don’t think you do, father,” replied the boy. “Besides, you promised to take me.”
“Um! Yes, I did, my lad; but circumstances have altered since then. They say it’s dangerous up there among the Indians.”
“Then you had better not go, father,” said Perry quickly.
“I have undertaken to go, and I am going,” said the colonel firmly. “I gave my word.”
“And you can’t break it, father?”
“No, my boy, not honourably.”
Perry laughed softly.
“Hullo! What does that mean, sir?” cried the colonel. “Glad I am going into danger?”
“Of course not, father,” said Perry. “I was only laughing because you promised to take me, and you can’t break your word.”
The colonel leaned back and laughed.
“And I’ve come with a petition, father,” said Perry.
“Petition?”
“Yes; you said that it would be nice for me to be with Cyril Norton.”
“Yes, I rather like the lad. He’s a rackety, wild young dog, but there’s a good deal of the gentleman about him. But what do you mean! You said you did not want to stay here.”
“Yes, father, but he wants to stay with us.”
“Stay with us? We’re not going to stay here.”
“I mean, go with us. He is wild to go. Take him with us, father. I should like it so much.”
“Why, Perry, my boy, you’re mad,” said the colonel. “If the journey is so risky
