Is it any wonder that the cool air of the cave made the perspiration on my forehead seem dank and clammy?
We came to a place where the cave widened out into a great chamber. The flashlight couldn’t penetrate the darkness far enough to disclose all the walls; only a stray outthrust of rock here, or a bit of lowhung ceiling there.
The soldier stopped and sent the beam of the electric flash in a long circle.
“I have got to look for landmarks here,” he said. “I was only here a few times, and it has been over a month ago, and I have been sick in that month... Wait! There should be a branch of the main cave over here to the left.” And he walked confidently forward into the darkness.
“If anything happens we’ll have a hard time getting out of here,” I whispered to Emilio Bender.
“There is gold here,” he said, and his voice quavered with eagerness.
I said nothing further. I could take my chances with the rest. I had been taken along to see the thing through, and that was what I was going to do.
The flashlight hit the walls again, and there was an arched opening.
“This is the place,” said the soldier, and started to run.
We followed.
When he stopped short we almost ran him down. The beam of the flashlight was glittering from something white again, and I knew what it would be.
“Madre de Dios! Another fight. More bones. Carramba, there is another blade, and it is the sword of Juan Bautiste de Alvarado!”
And he stooped and picked up another red-incrusted blade of finest steel.
“Here, soldier,” he said, as he thrust the hilt into the limp hand of Emilio Bender. “Here is the sword of one who was brave of heart and steady of hand. Take it and bear it well and with honor.”
He took another step forward and stooped to the floor of the cave. He presently turned to me with another blade, dulled with three hundred years of disuse.
“Here, señor charioteer, take this. You are unworthy of it. It is the blade of a brave man, but it is the fortunes of war, and you may have to stand shoulder to shoulder with us before you quit the place.
“Remember that a cut is faster and more terrifying, but a thrust is the means of piling a corpse at your feet to make a partial barricade. But, when you thrust, be sure to thrust true and be careful to pull your blade out before the weight of the falling man jerks the hilt from your hand... Come.”
And he started forward again, his feet grinding the bones beneath him to a powder.
“There is some horrid miasma about this place,” he muttered. “Think of bodies that are only a month old turning to dust!”
I said nothing. Bender had started the explanations. He could finish them.
Chapter 7
A Medieval Raid
The room opened out into a wide circle, then narrowed again. There was the sound of running water, and my nostrils fancied they could detect the odor of wood smoke. I spoke of it in a whisper to Bender, but he shook his head.
“Gold,” he said in a hoarse whisper, and hurried on.
We came to a little alcove which had been carved out of the cave by the action of prehistoric waters. The soldier walked into this alcove, then stopped and swore.
“Here it was,” he said. “Now look!”
We crowded at his shoulders to look.
We saw the remains of a stout chest, bound with hasps of iron, bolted with some strangely designed bolts. The chest had been battered and splintered. It was empty, save for several inches of dust.
Bender pushed his eager fingers in the dust, fished around with them for a few moments, then uttered a cry. He withdrew his hand, and there, in his fingers, was a great ornament of gold.
The Mexican nodded casually.
“There were hundreds more,” he said.
The man with pin-point eyes slipped the golden ornament into the pocket of his coat, where it bulged out the pocket and sagged the garment. Then he started groping once more in the dust. When he had finished he knew that there was no hope of additional loot. The chest was empty.
He sat down on a rock. I thought for a moment he was going to swear.
“Where would they have taken it?” he asked.
“Back to their villages. They were, for the most part, ornaments which adorned the temples they erected to their heathen gods... But hold. There was a private store of gold. This was the treasure chest which all were to share in; but there were some ornaments, some melted gold in bars, some of their turquoise jewelry which was mine. I hid it in another part of the cave. Perhaps they were not so fortunate in finding that. Come with me.”
Bender needed no second invitation. He was on his feet and striding forward.
I thought the light from the flash was getting just a trifle more dim.
“Better turn off the flash for a minute or two and save the battery,” I warned.
“Later,” said Bender. “Hurry on.”
And the soldier hurried on.
With us trailing after, our strange guide went back to the main chamber, ran along the dust-covered floor which sent his footfalls thudding back at us in muffled echoes, and shot the beam of the flashlight toward the west end of the chamber.
There was nothing here but wall.
The soldier muttered, sent the beam along the wall, up one side, down the other, stepping back a few paces, muttering to himself.
“It should be here,” he said. “See you, there is the head of a lion in the stone, and that to the left looks like an old man... Ha, now I remember! It is off to the left.”
And he strode confidently to the left. There seemed to be nothing but solid rock, but as we approached nearer a little vault opened out.
“This is the place,” he said. “We must stoop.”
We stooped, and as we got our heads near the floor of the cave there was a gentle draft of air which smote my nostrils with the unmistakable odor of wood smoke.
But the others either did not smell it, or if they did, gave it no heed. Eagerly trailing the three hundred year old secret, they entered the chamber.
It was really an entrance to another cave, or to another branch of caves shooting out from the main chamber. I could see that there was a long passageway, and then an arched roof, and I thought I could detect a glint of light coming from some faintly discerned opening in the distant darkness.
“It was in this little cleft to the right of the opening,” said the Mexican, and turned the beam of the flashlight.
I saw a long cleft some little distance away, and I saw also that the beam of the flashlight was weaker now. The light was no longer a brilliant pencil of white light, but was taking on a reddish hue.
Emilio Bender ran forward, getting his shadow so that it danced along the wall in a grotesque blob of ebony silhouette.
“To one side,” yelled the soldier. “I cannot see.”
And, at that instant, the light went out.
“More of your damned magic that gets tired!” shouted the Mexican, and dashed the flashlight to the floor of the cave. There sounded the tinkle of broken glass and then darkness was about us, a soul-chilling darkness that seemed as tangible as a smothering blanket thrown about our heads.
“Fool!” ranted Emilio Bender.
But his ranting did no good. The flashlight might have recuperated enough strength in the battery to have given us a few flashes that would have enabled us to find the gold and make our escape from the cave.
“I can’t even find the cleft where the gold is,” whined the man of the pin-point eyes.
“Bah!” scoffed the Mexican. “Are we men or are we babies? Why whimper about a little darkness? I have seen darkness before. Doubtless I will see it again!”
“Come back, come back! We must get the gold!” yelled Emilio Bender.