When he woke in the morning he wondered for a moment where he was; then, like a nightmare, his ordeal of the previous evening came back to him. His jaw began to ache again, but he was greatly relieved to find that the pain in his groin was now hardly noticeable. That he had not, as he had feared after the slut's attack on him, been deprived of his manhood was a matter for thanksgiving; but whether it would ever again be of any use to him seemed highly problematic. Once more a terrible dread of the denouement that must take place when they came within a few miles of Lisbon drove all other thoughts from his mind.
He had been awake only a quarter of an hour when Paolo came in, untied him, helped him into his clothes and took him down to breakfast. In the salon, while they were all eating, a fine wrangle took place. All the members of the band wanted to go on the expedition, because each of them feared that, if he were left behind, the others would make off with the splendid spoil. But only four horses, including Roger's, were available. After much argument, 0 Diabo ruled that the Negroid youth and the runt Alfonso should be left there with the women, because the arm of the one and the broken fingers of the other would prove a serious handicap on horseback. He, of course, would go himself and take Paolo and the runt's original companion, whose name was Francesco.
Lisbon was the best part of a day's ride distant, and Roger told O Diabo that, owing to his recent injury, he doubted if he could go that far; but the giant said that if he collapsed they would lie up somewhere for the night. When the horses were brought round, he had a blanket strapped over Roger's saddle, to make it more comfortable for him; and, on mounting, Roger found that riding would not prove as painful as he had expected.
Gradually the morning hours wore away and during that time they made good progress. At midday they halted and, among some trees at the roadside, ate some of the food they had brought with them. Afterwards Roger hoped they would take a siesta, and there might be a chance of his getting away. But O Diabo was anxious to press on. Roger had calculated that if they did they would probably come to within a few miles of Lisbon by late afternoon, and he was determined that they should not get there before twilight was falling. So he declared that he was in no state to ride further until after he had had a good long rest. Reluctantly the giant agreed, but tied Roger's hands, then hitched the other end of the rope to a tree, so that there should be no risk of his making off if his three captors fell asleep. Resigning himself to abandoning this faint hope of escape, he stretched out on the fallen leaves and fell into a doze.
The rest did him good, and when they set off again he was feeling no worse than he had when they had left the bandit's quarters that morning. But the nearer they came to Lisbon the more his fears for his life crowded in on his mind. There had not been a moment during their journey when he had not scanned the roads along which they advanced for some feature which might lend itself to his chances if he set spurs to his horse and caused it to bolt. But O Diabo rode beside him, with Paolo and Francesco in the rear. One or other of the latter would almost certainly have shot him in the back before he could have covered fifty yards.
At length, in the far distance, the spires of Lisbon came in sight, and the lines of Torres Vedras could be seen clearly, less than a mile away. From a gateway in them there emerged a road and on it lay Roger's one remaining hope. For some minutes past he had been watching it with intense anxiety, and had seen two small groups of troops pass along it. If only he could get his captors near enough, and divert their attention for a moment when another group was passing, he meant to take his life in his hands, yell for help and endeavour to reach them.
But they were still a good way from the road when O Diabo said to him abruptly, 'Come now, Frenchie. You said you had buried the treasure about a mile from where the lines are now; and we're nearer to them than that already. Get your bearings, and be quick about it.'
Turning his horse a little to the left, Roger pointed to a gully about a hundred and fifty yards away, and replied, 'It's somewhere in the far bank of that stream over there.'
The party trotted toward it and looked down at the slowly-flowing, shallow water. With a shake of his head, Roger said, 'It is over two years since I hid the stuff, so it may take me a little time to find the place. It wasn't here anyway, but further downstream I think.'
O Diabo grunted. 'Then we'd better cross the stream and walk along under the far bank. Close to, you'll stand a better chance of recognizing a mound or a bit of out crop that will guide you to it. We'll leave our horses here.'
That was a blow to Roger, as it deprived him of the chance to gallop off, crouched low over his saddle bow. But his nerves were so strung up that he could think of no reasonable objection. As he dismounted, he ruefully accepted the fact that, if he could raise the courage to break away, he would now have to run for it.
Francesco was left to hold the horses while O Diabo, Roger and Paolo scrambled down the near bank and splashed through the shallow water. On the far side Roger turned left. Every step he took would bring him nearer the road. But, on looking toward it, his heart sank. It was now empty.
Moving as slowly as he dared, he pretended to examine every hollow and protuberance in the four-foot high bank, whenever he dared taking a quick look over it in the direction of the road. The light was now fading, but it would be an hour or more before darkness fell; so he could not hope that it would swallow him up should he escape the first shots fired at him as he made his-dash for life and liberty.
They had made their way about two hundred yards along the gully, when Roger saw a small convoy emerge from the gateway in the lines. It consisted only of two wagons, with two men riding in front of them and two behind, and it was moving at a walk. For another five minutes Roger continued to scrutinize every inequality in the bank. The convoy advanced with maddening slowness, and O Diabo was becoming impatient. Halting, he growled:
'From what you said, Frenchie, the place can't be as near the lines as this. We must have passed it. Or perhaps it's upstream from the place where we crossed. We'd better turn back.'
The convoy was still four hundred yards away. But Roger felt that if he agreed to return upstream, he would be no better off. It was now or never. With sudden resolution he gave O Diabo a violent push that sent him reeling backward into the water. Then he bounded up the bank and ran for his life.
15
The Serpent Enters Eden
As Roger raced forward over the rough grass, he shouted with all the strength of his lungs, 'Help! Help! I am an Englishman! Save me from these brigands.'