Real Gold: A Story of Adventure

by George Manville Fenn

From this point the whole of the wild zigzag was visible right to where the grey veil of mist shut off the level shelf where they had passed the night, and John Manning’s lips had just parted to utter some words about the horrible nature of the place, when Cyril started back and jerked his garment, to make him follow suit.

The old soldier was keenly alive to danger, and dropping upon his knees, he joined Cyril in cautiously looking over the edge of the rocks they had just ascended, softly bringing the muzzle of his piece to bear upon what he saw.

For, as he gazed down, there in the gloom, not two hundred yards away as an arrow would fly, but at a distance which it had taken them nearly half an hour to climb by the gradual ascent, was the figure of an Indian standing out just clear of the mist, and peering cautiously about, as if searching every rock and crevice around.

The next minute another had joined him, coming out of the mist cautiously, and with the tentative motion of one who was on strange ground.

Then came another and another, with their figures looking huge and grotesque as they stood in the mist, and then suddenly shrinking into the stature as of dwarfs, as soon as they were clear.

One by one they came on, till there were at least thirty collected together, and all gazing about cautiously, as if in dread.

As Cyril knew from his own experience, they could only converse with difficulty, so that he was not surprised to see that one of them, who appeared to be the leader, was gesticulating and pointing here and there, and finally upward toward where the two fugitives were watching every act.

But, as the boy watched the Indians keenly, it was very evident that they were far from confident, and he soon decided that they were as much panic-stricken by the horror of the place as he and his friends had been overnight. At last, though after a great deal of pointing upward and hesitation, it seemed as if they were all reluctantly about to continue the pursuit, for their leader took a few steps forward and waved them on.

But they did not stir, save to crowd together a little more and press toward the wall of rock, away from the fall.

“They don’t like it,” whispered John Manning, for it was becoming possible, where they lay, to make a few words audible without shouting. “Strikes me they’re so scared, that if we were to send one of these big pieces of rock rolling down, they’d beat a retreat.”