Long Live the King - Guy Boothby (iphone ebook reader TXT) 📗

which would certainly have been his fate had he missed. He accordingly remained in hiding until the Englishman had passed round the bend of the hill and was safely on his way back to the camp. Then he emerged, and, in his turn, retraced his steps by the way he had come, in so doing passing within fifty yards of the spot where Max lay concealed. When the latter reached the camp he found the evening meal prepared, and the two men amicably seated, side by side, near the fire, to all appearances better friends than they had been for some time past. Max fancied that Moreas looked rather apprehensively at him as he came into the firelight; but whatever he may have thought, he said nothing to him, either then or on a subsequent occasion, concerning that mysterious shot upon the hill. Bertram also followed his example, and, though he had plenty of opportunity, he did not once refer, either directly or indirectly, to the attempt that had been made upon his life that afternoon.

Next day they resumed their march, and twenty-four hours later left the mountains behind them, and once more entered a zone of fertile country. This continued for upwards of three hundred miles, until Moreas informed them that he felt sure they must be approaching the second range, that it would be necessary for them to cross before they could reach the country in which the old woman had declared that the diamonds existed. This proved to be the case, for the next day a faint blue haze on the northern horizon showed them that they were nearing what they might consider the half-way house to their destination. It was true that they had been warned that the road over these mountains would be likely to prove a serious obstacle in their path, and also that the long stretches of desert on the further side were good for neither man nor beast. They did not give that much consideration, however. Great though the present difficulties might be, the reward at the end would be much larger, if all they had been told were true. When, however, they reached the foot of the mountains they were able to realise something of what lay before them. Unlike the other range through which they had passed a fortnight before, this one consisted of high, rocky peaks, where even a goat could scarcely retain his footing, and dark, gloomy canons, both almost grassless and entirely destitute of water. What was worse, their animals by this time were sadly out of condition, and often it was as much as the poor beasts could do to drag one foot after the other. Still they persevered. The Spaniards grumbled incessantly, it is true. Moreas, on the other hand, scarcely spoke at all, while Max thought he could even detect on the Englishman's handsome face a growing belief that they had attempted something that was beyond the power of human beings to accomplish. Whatever his feelings may have been, however, he never once permitted a word of complaint to pass his lips. The outlook was by no means a cheerful one. After the privations the party had been through so far, it seemed hard, indeed, that they should not be able to reach the goal for which they had been aiming. With such overwhelming odds against them, however, it seemed impossible that they could hope to succeed. But they were slow to own themselves beaten. Indeed, it was not until they stood face to face with almost certain death, that they realised how futile it was to continue the fight. Then, in one of the loneliest canons of all that lonely range, they called a halt and took counsel with each other. The two Spaniards, as on a previous occasion, were openly mutinous, and showered black looks on everyone, each other included. Remembering what he had seen a fortnight before, Max never once permitted Moreas to leave the camp unaccompanied. The man's temper was by this time in such a condition that it was within the bounds of possibility that he would have chosen a vantage on the hill side above, and have shot them down without either a second thought, or a feeling of compunction.

"It seems to me we're in a pretty sort of a fix," said Bertram after some little discussion had taken place on their position. "The animals are giving way, and if we go on like this, it won't be long before we all follow suit. Now the question for us to decide is, what are we going to do. If the remainder of you are desirous of pushing ahead, then I'm willing to do the same. If not, let us turn back without further parleying. The matter, however, must be decided once and for all. There has been too much grumbling lately, and it seems to me the best thing we can do is to hold a meeting now, and settle everything. What do you say, Mortimer?"

"I quite agree with you," Max answered, "and so I feel sure does Moreas. Let us talk the question over like sensible men, and come to some definite decision."

Popular feeling being in favour of a discussion, they sat down by the camp fire and talked it over, as quietly and rationally as the racial tendencies of the various members of the party would permit. The result was as follows.

It was decided that, while it was out of the question that the entire party could succeed in reaching the spot for which they were making, it was still possible that two men, taking with them the best of the animals, might be able to do so. But who those two men should be was rather more difficult to determine. It was certain that Moreas must go, since he was the only man who was acquainted with the secret, and he was scarcely likely to impart it to anyone else. On his side, however, he flatly declined even to think of taking either of the two Spaniards with him. They might fume and curse as much as they pleased, he said, but their bluster would not alter his decision. The man who went with him must be either Bertram or Max. For his own part he professed not to care very much which of them it was.

A solemn silence descended upon the group.

"Perhaps we had better draw lots for it," began Bertram. "I may say that, if I am chosen, I am perfectly willing to go; if it falls upon you, Mortimer, I have no doubt you will not raise any objection. What do you say?"

"Let us draw lots for it by all means," Max answered. "But how shall we decide?"

One of the Spaniards, true son of a gambling race, immediately produced a dice box, which he still carried with him, long after he had parted with other apparently more valuable possessions. By the flickering light of the camp fire, the two men threw, to decide which should have the honour of courting what, each must have felt in his own heart, was almost certain death. As a result Max was declared to be the winner.

"It is settled then," said Moreas, with what Max could not help feeling was a note of satisfaction in his voice. "You are perfectly satisfied? Well, to-morrow, Senor Mortimer, if you are prepared, we will push on together, and see what fate has in store for us."

"I shall be quite ready," Max replied. "And, as I understand it, the remainder of the party will retrace their steps to the fertile country at the entrance to the Ranges, and await our coming there."

"That is how I understand it also," replied Bertram, looking steadily at Max. "We shall give you three months' grace, and if you have not returned by the end of that time, we shall conclude that you are dead, and will either attempt to reach you, or return to civilisation, as circumstances may dictate."

"That is the arrangement," said Moreas.

After that the party lapsed into silence once more.

As nobody seemed inclined for conversation when these details had been settled, they rolled themselves up in their blankets and said good-night to the world. Silence had not taken possession of the camp more than half an hour before Max felt the pressure of a hand upon his arm. He rolled over to find Bertram making signals to him. He accordingly arose and followed him to a spot at some little distance from the camp. When they had assured themselves that they were not being followed, the Englishman spoke.

"Your Royal Highness," he said; then, seeing that the other was about to interrupt him, held up his hand. "Pardon me, but for a few minutes it is necessary that I should forget our supposed equality, and remember that you are a royal personage, and I only the son of a Yorkshire gentleman. I'm not as a rule a man who thinks very much of titles, but there is no getting away from the fact that a man who is, or should be, going to rule a country, is called upon to take more care of his life than other people. When we drew lots to-night as to who should accompany Moreas, I hoped and believed that chance would favour myself. Fate, however, willed otherwise. Now, sir, what I am going to say to you is this; if you will consent to allow me to go forward in your place, it will be conferring an honour upon me for which I shall be grateful to you to my dying day. I can easily make an excuse to Moreas, and convince him that we have come to the arrangement together. Nobody will suspect, and so you will be saved from doing, what I really and truly believe to be, a wrong act."

Max was more touched by the other's words than he could say.

"I thank you," he said, holding out his hand. "I know that you speak out of kindness to me, but what you ask is impossible--quite impossible! Really it is! The lot has fallen upon me, and, indeed, I can only ask you to believe that I would not have it otherwise. I am quite willing to go forward, and, when all is said and done, I believe I am the best person for the work. You and Moreas are not particularly friendly, as you must be aware, and there is no saying what might happen if you were thrown so much into each other's society, without any one to see fair play."

"You are thinking of the day when he fired that rifle at me in the mountains, I suppose," Bertram replied. "I suppose you did not think I was aware of it. I was, however, and I knew also that you were behind him. If it hadn't been for that fact, I should have taxed him with his treachery on my return to the camp. But we are wasting time. Is it quite impossible for me to make you change your mind?"

"Quite," said Max. "Though I am none the less grateful to you for your kindness in offering to go, I cannot accept it."

"Are you quite sure that no argument on my part will make you alter your decision?"

"I am quite sure," Max replied. "My mind is irrevocably made up."

"So be it," returned Bertram quietly. "In that case, I suppose, we may as well return to the camp. Should Moreas have seen us leave it, he may have got the idea into his head that you are scheming against him. That would be a bad beginning as far as you are concerned."

They accordingly retraced their steps,