There was no sleep for Max. Even had he desired to sleep he would not have been able to do so. The place swarmed with mosquitoes, and, after the rain, great pools of water lay upon the floor. For all that, the majority of the natives lay down and slept like dogs, tired out by the day's work, and weary at heart at the implacable injustice of the world.
At daybreak the slaves were summoned to their toil. Gang after gang--and there were six in all--filed out of the kraal, in charge of the Arab drivers, and crossed the river by way of the suspension bridge.
At the quarry Max gained a more intimate knowledge of the workings of a ruby mine than he had ever hoped to attain. He himself was set to work, washing the dirt from the sifted rubies by the river bank.
The slaves remained at the workings from sunrise to sunset, during which time they received two meals. Their food consisted of manioc and plantains. They were given no meat. The gang which was employed in washing, to which Max was attached, worked in chains.
These poor driven creatures took no interest in their task. They set about their business mechanically, with never a smile upon their faces, and though they were allowed to talk to one another, scarcely a word was uttered. Whenever they found a ruby they expressed no satisfaction, though it were worth a thousand times the price of their freedom. They just handed it to Cæsar, who examined the quality of each stone under a magnifying-glass.
That day there were two more cases of cholera; two more of these unfortunate creatures were freed of their bonds to throw themselves down upon the river bank to die.
Cæsar was utterly without pity. If a man fell ill he cursed him, and as often as not, resorted to the whip. Max Harden felt that these things sickened him. He had never dreamed that such barbarity could exist in an age of enlightenment and toleration.
That night he slept--the sleep of those who are utterly exhausted. He was over-burdened by the sights which he had seen. The unhappy lot of these poor sufferers was like a mountain weight upon his heart. It was a three-day nightmare, in which Cæsar stood for all that was terrible and pitiless. None the less Max did not despair. His courage was maintained by hope. He knew that as long as Crouch and Edward were in the land of the living they would not rest until the slaves had been avenged.
Cæsar knew now that Crouch had escaped from the jungle, and Max had been saved as by a miracle from the rapids. But he had asked no questions. He had gone back to his work at the quarry as if nothing unusual had occurred. Perhaps he desired to fill his treasure-chest without delay, and take his rubies to Europe. Perhaps he recognized already that the game was up.
At daybreak Max was awakened by the Arab who had charge of his gang, and once more he was marched out to the workings. That afternoon a strange thing occurred: de Costa appeared at the quarry.