George Fenn - Real Gold - A Story of Adventure

“And they can manage the mules?”

“Oh yes, you may trust them. This man, Diego, as we call him, has been in the habit of coming down from the mountains for years to trade and sell. I consider that I was very lucky in getting him for you. When will you start, shall I tell him?”

“On the sixth day from now.”

“That is soon, is it not?”

“No; that ought to be time enough to get our mule-packs ready, and a sufficiency of stores. I have everything else.”

“Don’t hurry,” said Captain Norton. “You are very welcome here, and I shall regret your going.”

“I know that,” said the colonel warmly, “but I am eager to begin, and shall be restless till I start.”

The captain nodded, and said a few words to the Indians, who replied, and then took their departure, it being fully understood that they would be there, ready, on the sixth morning.

“Ha!” exclaimed the colonel, “that is satisfactory. – Now then, Perry, my boy, call up John Manning to unpack the luggage, and we’ll make our selection of what we mean to take. Captain Norton will keep in store for us all that we decide to leave, and he will help us with his experience in making our selection. – And you will help too, Cyril, will you not?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Thanks. Sorry I can’t take you, my lad, but your father is right.”

Those next five days passed almost like magic. Six highly-bred mules were selected by Captain Norton’s help, and furnished with packages and hide ropes, besides more for riding purposes.

“But we shan’t be able to manage so many, sir,” said John Manning, a lithe, dry-looking man of about forty, who had been the colonel’s servant when he was in the army, and had stayed with him ever since, to Perry’s great disgust; for the lad declared that he was the most disagreeable fellow under the sun, since he was always grumbling.

It was quite true, for he found fault with everything to the two boys; though silent, as if he were still in the ranks, in the presence of the colonel. But he quite won Cyril’s heart in one of his grumbles, and always after, during their preparations, the boy declared that he was capital fun, and that he liked him.

“There, young gentlemen,” said John, “that’s as much toggery as I can get in the colonel’s soft portmanter, and you’ll have to make shift, Master Perry, if you want any more flannels and things.”

“Oh, there’ll be enough, John,” said Perry. “A fellow don’t want collars and cuffs up in the mountains.”

“But there ain’t enough, sir. The man must ha’ been a hijot as made that portmanter. If it had been six inches longer, it would have held ever so much more.”

“Why, of course it would,” said Cyril contemptuously.

“It ain’t my business,” continued the man; “I’m only a servant. But what ought to ha’ been done was to have had Mr Cyril here with us, and filled a portmanter up with his things. Then they’d ha’ balanced quite easy on the mule’s back.”

“Yes, that’s what ought to have been done,” said Cyril excitedly.

“I wish you’d hold your tongue, John,” cried Perry angrily.

“All right, sir. Cut it out, if you like. We’re in savage lands, and there’s no magistrates to stop it, for all I know. But there, sir, that’s all I can do as I see.”

“How are you getting on?” cried the colonel, joining them. “All packed now?”

“Yes, sir,” said John Manning, drawing himself up stiffly.

“Did you oil the rifles and pistols?”

“Oh yes, sir; I went all over the armoury. Everything’s in perfect order.”

“And the cartridges?”

“Some in every package, sir; so that you can always get a few.”

“That’s right.”

By this time the captain had had an abundance of the most portable and useful provisions packed, simplicity having been especially studied; and on the evening of that fifth day, it was felt that nothing more could be done.

“I can think of nothing else to help you, Campion,” said Captain Norton.

“No, you have done wonders for me. There’s only one thing I wish.”

“What is it?”

“That you were coming too.”

“Colonel Campion!” cried Mrs Norton, as the boys exchanged glances.

“I beg your pardon, madam,” said the colonel. “I will not be so selfish. No, I do not wish that. – Come, boys, make the most of your last hours together. Shall you be up to see us off in the morning, Cyril?”

“Of course,” said the boy with a sigh.

“To be sure,” said the captain; “and we’ll ride a few miles with you – eh, Cil?”

“No, thank you father, I’d rather not,” said the lad dolefully. “I’ll bid them good-bye here. – Coming out, Perry?”

“Yes,” said the latter.

“Don’t be long, my lad,” said the colonel. “I want you to get to bed in good time. You must be up by four.”

“Breakfast will be ready by then,” said Mrs Norton.

“All right, father,” said Perry, and the two lads went out into the soft moonlight, to be accosted directly by John Manning.

“I was looking for you, Master Perry, sir,” he said. “I’ve been a-making of my will, and want you to see me sign it, and witness it.”

“You want to sign your will?” cried Perry, laughing.

“Yes, sir; this here’s going to be my last journey, I’m afraid, for one o’ them mules has marked me down. He means to kick me over the first pressy pass we comes to.”

“Don’t let him,” cried Cyril. “If he’s going to, shove him over instead.”

John Manning stared.

“Thankye, sir, I will. Now, do you know, I never thought o’ that.”

“Come along, Cil,” said Perry, laying his hand upon his companion’s shoulder, and they strolled along to where they could look over the sparkling lights of the town, away across the glittering ocean, with its broad path of silver, and then back up to the huge mountain, whose icy top flashed in the brilliant moonbeams, while every here and there the deep ravines marked the sides with an intense black.

They neither of them spoke, both feeling too sad at heart, but stood there, rapt in thought about the coming morrow, till they were interrupted by the coming of John Manning.

“Colonel says it’s lights out, young gentlemen,” he said respectfully. “There’s allers something wrong in this world. – You ought to ha’ been with us, Master Cyril, sir, in this forlorn-hope job. But, I suppose, we must make the best of it.”

“Yes,” said Cyril bitterly. “I suppose we must.”

A quarter of an hour later the lads were in their bedrooms, listening to the hum of the mosquitoes, and feeling weary, but restless in the heat. Cyril felt as if he could not sleep for thinking of the coming day, but all the same, he went off soundly in spite of his depressing thoughts, and woke up with a start, to find that his father was standing by his bedside.

“Half-past three, my lad,” he cried. “Up with you, and act like a man. Show our visitors that you can be unselfish, and let’s start them happily upon their expedition.”

Cyril tried to say, “Yes, father,” cheerfully, but not a word would come.

“Sulky?” said Captain Norton rather sternly. “I’m sorry that you turn like that. I’ll talk to you this evening, Cyril, my boy.”

The boy drew his breath hard, but he said no word, only began hurriedly to dress, as his father left the room.

“Hallo, sir,” cried Captain Norton, as they stood outside in the enclosure where the mules were being loaded, “where’s the a other man?”

The Indian guide looked a little troubled, but spoke out quickly in his half-Indian, half-Spanish jargon.