Real Gold: A Story of Adventure

by George Manville Fenn

Then began the journey down the long zigzag, every turn bringing them nearer to the spot where the river took its great plunge into the gulf. The roar grew deeper and louder, though still smothered by the dense mist, and as they drew nearer, there was the damp odour of water, breathed in the smallest of vesicles, as it was churned and then whirled upward to battle with the breeze descending the gorge.

The last turn of the descending path at last, and then the colonel stopped, for they were face to face with the great black veil of mist.

“Now,” he said, with his lips close to each one’s ear in turn, “you first, Perry, take a grip of the stock of my gun, and pass your own backward as I do mine for Cyril to take hold. Then Cyril will do the same for John Manning to grasp, and we shall be linked together and well in touch. I shall lead, of course. Courage, boys, and no hesitation. We shall soon be through. Now, forward.”

In half-a-dozen steps the darkness, which had been relieved by the faint gleaming of the stars peering down into the gorge, became intense, for they were once more in the mist, and guided only by the gentle drag upon the guns, as without hesitation the colonel led on, keeping close to the wall upon his left.

The noise of the water thundering down was more confusing than ever, the mist more stifling; but the boys gathered confidence as they went on, and Perry was too much occupied in following his father’s steps, to think much about the horrible slip into the gulf below; while Cyril, as he stepped on manfully, kept trying to recall how far the way was through, and calculated that they must be fully half-way.

He had just arrived at this conclusion, when he turned angrily to resent what he looked upon as absurd behaviour on the part of John Manning, who suddenly grasped him tightly, pinning his arms down to his sides, and flinging him up against the rock-wall as far as possible from the edge of the gulf.

“How stupid!” he cried aloud, though not a word was heard. “I’m all right. Now you’ve broken the chain.”

He had arrived at this point, when he felt a rope passed rapidly round him, binding his arms to his sides. Then he was thrown upon his back, and in spite of his struggles, his legs were treated in the same way, after which a cloth was bound over his face, so tightly as to be almost suffocating. Lastly, he felt himself lifted head and heels, and borne forward, dizzy, confused, and wondering what had happened to his companions, and finally bound to conclude that they must have been treated precisely in the same way. He felt that this must be so, and that the Indian cunning had been too much for the colonel’s strategy, a party having remained in waiting in full knowledge that they were pursued, and ready to pounce upon them, just in a spot where an attack would be least expected and surest of success.

All at once, as the boy was borne along, feeling satisfied that it was useless to struggle and folly to exert himself and shout, it occurred to him that his bearers were going closer to the edge of the gulf, for the roar of the water seemed to be more deafening. There could only be one reason for this, he argued—it was his turn to be thrown in, and the others must be gone.

The horrible thought made him begin to struggle with all his might, but at the first writhe a strong additional arm was passed over his body, gripping him tightly to its owner’s side, and in this fashion he became helpless, and was carried forward, to grow calmer, for he awoke to the fact that his life was certainly for the present safe.