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THE GILDED MAN





THE GILDED MAN
A ROMANCE OF THE ANDES
B Y CLIFFORD S M Y T H
W II H AN INTRODUCTION BY
RICHARD LE G A L L I E N N E
BO NI AND LIVE RIGHT
NEW YORK
1918


PROPERTY
OF THE
NEW YORK
BOTS: 13124 V
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LITARY
1362583
ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
1941 L
Copyright, 1918
By BONI & LIVERIGHT, INC.


AUG 3
TO
BEATRIX





CONTENTS
· ·
· ·
·
INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . .
Chapter
I. IN WHICH COMET GOES LAME . .
II. IN UNA'S GARDEN . . . . . .
III. A CHAPTER ON GHOSTS . . . .
IV. THE GHOST OF THE FORGOTTEN . . . .
V. THE SEARCH FOR EL DORADO . . . . .
VI. EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH
VII. LA REINA DE Los INDIOS . . .
VIII. A RIVER INTERLUDE . . . .
IX. ON INDIAN TRAILS . . . .
X. An Old MYSTERY ........
XI. IN WHICH ANDREW Is FOUND . ..
XII. A DEAD WALL . . . . . . ..
XIII. MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD . . .
XIV. THE BLACK MAGNET ......
XV. AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR . . . .
XVI. NARVA . . . . . . . . . . . . 230
XVII. A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL . . .
XVIII. SUBTERRANEAN PHOTOGRAPHY .
XIX. A QUEEN'S CONQUEST ......
XX. LEGEND AND REALITY. . .
XXI. DREAMS . . . . . . . · · · 312
XXII. A PEOPLE'S DESTINY . . . . . . . 325
XXIII. THE GILDED MAN . . . . . . .
vii





THE GILDED MAN





FOREWORD
TWO dreams have persistently haunted the imagina-
1 tion of man since dreams began. You find them in
all mythologies, and, perhaps most dramatically, in the
Arabian Nights: the dream of the Water of Immortal-
ity, and the dream of the Golden City. Within recent
times—that is, during the sixteenth century-both were
lifted out of the region of fairy lore, and men as far
from "dreamers,” in the ordinary sense, as the "con-
quistador” Ponce de Leon and Sir Walter Raleigh raised
them into the sphere of something like Elizabethan prac-
tical politics. Whether or not Ponce de Leon did ac-
tually discover the Fountain of Eternal Youth on the
Bimini Islands concerns us but incidentally here. At all
events, he seems to have died without drinking of it; as
death on the scaffold was the penalty for Raleigh's fail-
ure to discover El Dorado. So practically had the courts
of Elizabeth and James regarded the dream of the
Golden City, and so firm had been Raleigh's own belief
in it. Though Raleigh's name is most conspicuously and
tragically connected with it, of course it had been Span-
ish adventurers for several generations before--exploring
that "Spanish Main” which they had already, and in
romance forever, made their own—who had given that
dream its local habitation and its name. Martinez had
been the first to tell how, having drifted on the coast of
Guiana, he had been taken inland to a city called Manoa,


FOREWORD
whose king was in alliance with the Incas. Manoa, said
he, to opened mouths and wondering eyes, on his return
to Spain, was literally built, walls and roofs, houses big
and little, of silver and gold. His tale, garnished with
many other mysterious matters, soon speeded expedition
after expedition, dreaming across those
“perilous seas
In fairyland forlorn.”
All came back with marvels on their tongues. All had
caught glimpses of the gilded domes of the city, but
that was all. Gonzales Ximinez de Quesada from Santa
Fé de Bogotá was "warmest,” perhaps; but he too failed.
Many a daring sailor since has vainly gone on a like
quest. Even in our prosaic times—in the true Eliza-
bethan spirit, that, for all their romance, actually ani-
mated those enterprises of old time—when men sought
real gold as now, not "faery-gold”—an enterprise, with
a prospectus, shareholders, and those dreams now known
as promised dividends, has made it its serious "incorpo
rated" business to go in quest of El Dorado.
But, elaborate as all previous expeditions and enter-
prises have been, and dauntless as the courage of the
individual explorer, one and all have failed—till now.
Till now, I say—for at last El Dorado has been discov-
ered, and it is my proud privilege to announce, for the
first time, the name of its discoverer-Dr. Clifford Smyth.
Dr. Smyth has chosen the medium of fiction for the
publication of his discovery, like other such eminent dis-
coverers as the authors of Erewhon and Utopia, but that
fact, I need hardly say, in nowise invalidates the au-
thenticity and serious importance of his discovery.


FOREWORD
Though truth be stranger than fiction, it has but seldom
its charm, and, to use the by-gone phrase, Dr. Smyth's
relation of happenings which we never doubt for a rapt
moment did happen "reads as entertainingly as a fiction."
In fact, the present writer—who confesses to the idleness
of keeping au courant with the good and even merely
advertised fiction of the day, recalls no fiction in some
years that has seemed to him comparable in imagina-
tive quality with The Gilded Man, or has given him, in
any like degree, the special kind of delight which Dr.
Smyth's narrative has given him. For any such thrill
as the latter part of the book in particular holds, he finds
that his memory must travel back, no difficult or lengthy
journey, to Mr. Rider Haggard's King Solomon's Mines
-a book which one sees more and more taking its place
as one of the classics of fantastic romance, the kind of
romance which combines adventure with poetic strange-
ness; though, at its publication, “superior persons," with
the notable exception of that paradoxical most superior
person, and man of genius, Andrew Lang, disdained it
as a passing “thriller.”
Perhaps it is not indiscreet to say that one circum-
stance of Dr. Smyth's life gave him exceptional opportu-
nities for that dreaming on his special object which is
found to be the invariable incubation, so to say, preced-
ing all great discoveries. For some years Dr. Smyth was
United States consul at Carthagena, that unspoiled haunt-
ed city of the Spanish Main, which, it may be recalled,
furnishes a spirited chapter in the history of Roderick
Random, Esquire, of His Majesty's Navy. He was,
therefore, seated by the very door to that land of en-
chantment, which, as we have been saying, had drawn so


xiv
FOREWORD
many adventurous spirits under roaring canvas across
the seas, in the spacious days. He was but a short
mule-back journey from that table-land raised high in
the upper Andes where Bogotá, the capital of Colombia,
is situated, the region around which all those "supersti-
tions” retailed by Indians to those early adventurers
centre. Descendants of the same Indians still tell the
same stories, and still the average prosaic mind laughs
at them as "superstitions.” El Dorado! as if any one
could take it seriously nowadays! Has not the term long
been a picturesque synonym for The City of Impossible
Happiness, the Land of Heart's Desire, the Paradise of
Fools, and all such cities and realms and destinations
and states of being, as the yearning heart of man, find-
ing nowhere on the earth he knows, imagines in the sun-
tipped cloudland of his dreams, and toward which he
pathetically turns his eyes, and stretches out his arms to
the end?
But what if El Dorado were no such mere figment of
man's aching fancy, after all; what if the El Dorado, so
passionately believed in by those eminently practical
Elizabethans, did all the time, as they surmised, exist
upon this solid earth, and should still quite concretely
exist there ...
Is it not likely that such might be the musings of a
man situated as was Dr. Smyth, in the very heart of the
mystery, a man of affairs, touched with imagination, as
all really capable men of affairs are; and, as he listened
to the old Indian tales, and talked with miners, and all
manner of folk acquainted with the terrain of the legend,
what could he do but fall under the same spell that had
laid its ghostly hand on the mighty heart of Raleigh


FOREWORD
XV
centuries before, and follow its beckoning, as the other
inspired madmen before him?
But, as we have seen, his doom was to be different.
For so long generations of dead men had come crying,
like those three old horsemen in Morris's Glittering Plain:
“Is this the Land? Is this the Land?” to turn broken-
hearted away; but from him, of all men born, through-
out the generations, was to be heard at last the joyous,
ringinig cry: “This is the Land! This is the Land!”
Pause for one moment more and think what El Dorado
has meant to mankind, think with all your might; and
then think what must have been the feelings of the man
who stood looking upon it, and knew that he—that he
had found it. In such moments of transfiguring realiza-
tion men often lose their reason, and, as we say, it is
not a little surprising that Dr. Smyth is alive to tell the
tale. The lovely knowledge might well have struck him
as by lightning, and the secret once more have been
buried in oblivion.
I have all along taken it for granted that Dr. Smyth's
The Gilded Man is a genuine narrative, the true story of
a wonderful happening. If any one should come to me
and tell me that I am simple-minded, that it is no such
thing, and that, as the children say, Dr. Smyth "made it
up all out of his own head," I should still need a lot of
convincing, and, were conviction at last forced upon me,
I could only answer that Dr. Smyth must then possess
a power of creating illusion such as few romancers have
possessed. For there is a plausibility, a particularity, a
concreteness about all the scenes and personages in The
Gilded Man that make it impossible not to believe them
true and actual, however removed from common ex-


xvi
FOREWORD
perience they may seem. I should like very much to be
more particular, but I cannot very well be so without
betraying the story-or “true and veracious history,”
whichever it may turn out to be. Still I can hint at one
or two matters without betraying too much. The mys-
terious queen, Sajipona, for example, seems not only
real, but she and her love-story make one of the loveliest
idylls in what, for want of a better word, one may call
"supernatural” romance that has ever been written. And
all the dream-like happenings in the great cave, though
of the veritable "stuff that dreams are made of,” are en-
dowed with as near and moving a sense of reality as
though they were enacted on Broadway.
Of the cave itself, which may be said to be the Pre-
siding Personage of the book, it seems to me impossible
to speak with too great admiration. It is, without exag-
geration, an astonishing piece of invention; I refer not
merely to the ingenuity of its mechanical devices, though
I might well do that, for they are not merely devised
with an exceeding cleverness, but the cleverness is of a
kind that thrills one with a romantic dread, the kind of
awe-inspiring devices that we shudder at when we try to
picture the mysteries of the temples of Moloch. Dr.
Smyth's invention here is of no machine-made, puzzle-
constructed order. We feel that he has not so much
invented these devices, but dreamed them—seen them
himself with a thrill of fear and wonder in a dream.
And the great device of them all, that by which the cave
is lighted so radiantly and yet so mystically, outsoars
ingenuity, and is nothing short of a high poetic inspira-
tion. But all these details, each in itself of a distin-
guished originality, gain an added value of impressive-


FOREWORD
хvіі
ness from the atmosphere of noble poetic imagination
which enfolds them all, that atmosphere which always
distinguishes a work of creation from one of mere inven-
tion. I do not wish to seem to speak in superlatives, but,
in my opinion, Dr. Smyth's cave of The Gilded Man
belongs with the great caves of literature. I thought of
Vathek as I read it, though it is not the least the same,
except in that quality of imaginative atmosphere.
With the purely "human" interest of the book, the day-
light scenes and doings, he is no less successful. His plot
is constructed with great skill and is full of surprises.
The manner in which he "winds” into it is particularly
original. Then, too, his characters are immediately alive,
and there is some good comedy naturally befallen. Gen-
eral Herran and Doctor Miranda are delightfully drawn
South American characters, and the atmosphere of a
little South American republic convincingly conveyed,
evidently from sympathetic experience. Nor must the ab-
surd Mrs. Quayle be forgotten, and particularly her
jewels, which play such an eccentric part in the story-
one of Dr. Smyth's quaintest pieces of cleverness.
But it is time I ended my proud rôle of showman, and
allowed the show to begin. So this and no more: If
Dr. Smyth has, as I personally believe from the con-
vincing manner of his book, discovered El Dorado, he is
to be congratulated alike on the discovery and his strik-
ing method of publishing forth the news; but if he has
merely dreamed it for our benefit, then I say that a man
whom we have long respected as a wise and generous
critic of other men's books, should lose no time in writing
more books of his own.
RICHARD LE GALLIENNE





THE GILDED MAN
IN WHICH COMET GOES LAME
THEN, one evening in the late Autumn, David
V Meudon reached the entrance to Stoneleigh Gar-
den, where Una Leighton awaited him, it was evident
something unusual had happened.
“You are late,” she said, as he clasped the slender
hand extended to him in welcome.
"I could ride no faster. Comet is lame.”
The tired bay, belying his name, stood dejectedly, one
white foreleg slightly bent, as if seeking relief from a
weight it was weary of bearing. By the friendly way
in which he stretched forth his muzzle to touch the girl's
proffered fingers, Comet was evidently not a stranger to
her endearments.
“Poor Comet! Why didn't you take better care of
him?"
"I was too impatient at the start, and that got him
into trouble. After that, of course, we had to go
slowly. I hated the delay. I hated having to listen to
my own thoughts for so long."
Her gray eyes fixed questioningly upon the bronzed,


THE GILDED MAN
sharp-featured man, she noted his restless gaze, his
riding-whip’s irritable tattoo on polished boot-top as he
stood at her side. Then, flinging her arms about his
neck, her face, flushed with pleasure and expressive of
a mingled tenderness and anxiety, turned expectantly
to his.
"David, you are here!” she said impulsively. "You
are glad, aren't you? Say that your thoughts aren't
gloomy any more.”
“What need to say it_Una!”.
Silently the two lovers threaded the box-bordered path
leading to the great stone mansion beyond, pausing to
admire the flowers that still bloomed in a straggling sort
of way, or marking the loss of those whose gay colors
and delicate fragrance had formed a part of their own
joyous companionship a month ago. But this evening,
as if reflecting Nature's autumn mood, there was some-
thing of melancholy-restraint, where restraint had never
been before—in David's bearing; while with Una there
was an affectionate solicitude that strove to soothe an
unspoken trouble.
“You must stay to-night,” she said; "it would be cruel
to ride Comet back.”
“But your Uncle will he care to have me here?”
“What a question! Of course he will.”
“Are you sure? He was in town the other day to see
me. Did he tell you?”
"No. But then, Uncle Harold seldom tells what he
has been doing.”
"He was in one of his grim moods; cordial enough
outwardly; but, inside, I felt a curious sort of malev-
olence. That's an ugly word—but it seemed just that.”


IN WHICH COMET GOES LAME 3
“Uncle Harold malevolent! That isn't very nice of
you to say.”
"He asked me if I thought our marriage should take
place.”
“And you said ?"
"Nothing."
“David!”
“I am unworthy of you, Una—I feel it. There are
inen, you know, who have in their past things that make
them unworthy the woman they love. I confess, there
are dark shadows, haunting things in my past. I can't
explain them, even to myself. I don't altogether know
what they arequeer as that sounds! But-some day
they might come between us. When I rode over just
now, I made up my mind to try to tell you. You ought
to know- "
"David,” she interrupted, "I don't want to know. I
love you as you are to-day. If you were different in the
past, before I knew you, I don't care to hear about it.”
In spite of his self-depreciation, in the eyes of the
world David Meudon would be regarded in every way
a worthy suitor for the hand of Una Leighton. Clean
of stock, so far as the gifts of blood and social station
go, he had inherited besides a fortune that would be con-
sidered large even in a nation of millionaires. This in-
heritance, coming to him through the death of his father
and mother in the middle of his college course, had not
proved a snare to him. After completing his education,
he had traveled extensively, not through an idle curiosity
to see the world, but from a wish to perfect himself in
certain studies calling for a wider knowledge than could
be gathered from books or tutors.


THE GILDED MAN
It was during his travels abroad, after he had left his
eccentric schoolmate, Raoul Arthur, in India, that David
first met Una Leighton, who was spending a winter in
England with her uncle. The meeting ripened into an
intimacy that survived the distractions of European
travel, and drew David, a constant visitor, to the pic-
turesque old mansion, Una's home, on the outskirts of
the little Connecticut village of Rysdale.
There followed those memorable experiences of youth
-courtship and betrothal. David loved with all the
fervor of a mature passion, a passion that quite over-
shadowed all his former interests. Love for him was an
idyl of dreams and delicious fantasies, a paradise where
he and Una delighted in all the harmless exaggerations
of poetry and romance. No cloud dimmed their happi-
ness. The brightest kind of future seemed to stretch
indefinitely before them.
All the world—the world of Rysdale—knew of their
love and discussed it eagerly. Their daylong wanderings
together, their absorption in each other, appealed to the
sensible farmers and their wives, who watched with tire-
less interest the development of this romance in their
midst. There was something, besides the rumors of his
great wealth, in the personality of David that would
easily account for this interest. As a result of his long
years of solitary travel he had acquired an indefinable
air of reserve that was emphasized by features almost
Indian in their clean-cut sharpness and immobility. His
whole appearance, indeed, was of the kind traditionally
suggesting mystery—a mystery that inevitably arouses
curiosity in those who come within its influence.
Had Una been a stranger, spending a summer, as so


IN WHICH COMET GOES LAME
5
.
many strangers did, in the little mountain hamlet, her
intimacy with David might have passed unheeded. But
she belonged very much to the place. Generations ago
her ancestors had settled here. At that initial epoch in
local history, Stoneleigh was the only building of any
importance in or near Rysdale—and from that period to
this Stoneleigh had been the home of the Leightons.
Before they bought the gray-gabled mansion (St. Maur's
House it was then called) it was occupied by a small
congregation of Benedictines, who came from France to
establish themselves in this quiet corner of the new
world. When the House passed from the monks into
the hands of that stout Scotch pioneer, John Leighton,
it was a desolate sort of ruin. But its walls were well
built, and the thrift of its new owners gradually added
the wings and the square, central tower needed for the
family comfort.
Leighton was thus one of the oldest names in the
neighborhood. The family bearing it had always pros-
pered. Years ago their income, what with careful sav-
ing and shrewd investment, was sufficient to let them
give up farming. This they did, and settled down to the
dignified ease that, in an English community, belongs to
the household of a county “squire,” or to a “lord of the
manor.”
Harold Leighton, the present owner of Stoneleigh, was
more of a recluse than any of his predecessors. To the
gossips of Rysdale, indeed, who knew something of the
history of the place, it seemed as if the cowl of the
monkish founder of the House had fallen upon the shoul-
ders of this gray-haired old man. He was looked upon
as a student of unprofitable matters, lacking in the canny


THE GILDED MAN
enterprise distinguishing the Leightons before him, and
that had built up the family fortunes. By some he was
liked; by others—and these were in the majority—the
satirical smile, the cool reserve, the assumption of su-
periority with which he met the social advances of his
neighbors, were set down as indications of a character to
be watched with suspicion, and that were certainly not
of the right Rysdale stamp.
Una, however, was different. The villagers did not
regard her with the hostility that they had for her uncle,
Orphaned at an early age, she had easily captured and
held the affection of those who knew her. The tawny-
haired girl, bubbling over with friendly prattle, her gray
eyes—bluer then, as with the sky-tint of a clear dawn-
sparkling with youthful enthusiasms, had a host of com-
rades and admirers long before she reached her teens.
With equal grace and favor this radiant little creature
accepted the tribute of farmer and farm-hand, and when
it came to playmates was decidedly more at ease with
the village maidens than with the decorous young ladies
who were occasionally brought to Stoneleigh on a visit
of state from the city. As Una grew older, this choice
of associates, unchecked and even encouraged by her
uncle and Elizabeth Quayle, the worty but not over-
astute matron who looked after Leighton's household,
had its drawbacks. The girl's beauty, whicn was of no
ordinary kind, inevitably touched with its flame victims
who were not socially intended for this kind of con-
flagration. Una sometimes shared in their subsequent
misery; but she was unable to lighten their woes in the
only way they could be lightened. And when she dis-
covered that the refusal of their offers usually meant the


IN WHICH COMET GOES LAME
breaking up of a treasured friendship, she had been known
to weep bitterly and form all kinds of self-denying reso
lutions for the future.
The climax to her griefs in this respect, a climax partly
responsible for her flight to Europe, came through the
weakness (so his indignant aunt called it) of the district
schoolmaster, Andrew Parmelee. Andrew was a solitary
dreamer, a friendless, inoffensive sort of person, absorbed
in books, oblivious to the world around him. Learning,
such wisps and strays of it as lodged in his mind as a
result of his omnivorous reading, he was quite incapable
of imparting. The use of the ferule, also, was an enigma
to him. Hence, there were those unkind enough to whis-
per that the Rysdale school, under his management, was
not what it should be. But every one liked him, in a
tolerant sort of way; and with Una he was in particular
favor. Andrew didn't know. this, at least for some
time. When he did find it out, that is, when, quite by
accident, as it seemed, Una tripped into his school one
day to pay him a visit, it had quite a disastrous effect
on him. Before that, women, in general and in par-
ticular, were utterly unknown to him, creatures to be
shunned, to be feared. He was familiar, of course, with
the eccentricities of his aunt, Hepzibah Armitage. She
looked after his wardrobe, fed him, warned him of the
various pitfalls of youth, stopped his spending the money
allowed him by the village trustees on the ancient his-
tories for which he had an insatiable appetite. She ruled
with a rod of iron, and the rod wasn't always pleasant.
But for all that, he felt that life without Aunt Hepzibah,
although it might give him one mad, rapturous day of
freedom, was too bewildering, too dangerous to contem-


THE GILDED MAN
plate as a steady form of existence. Aunt Hepzibah was
an institution; she was not a woman. He had heard of
men falling in love with women. Such an accident, in-
volving his Aunt Hepzibah, was unthinkable—unless,
indeed, something like the conquest of the Scythians by
the Amazons, of which he had read in his Herodotus,
should be repeated in Rysdale.
As for the girls in Andrew's school, it was impossible
to think of them except as so many varieties of human
tyranny. They were more perplexing, as a rule, cer-
tainly more unmanageable, than the boys. This was due
to the languishing friendships which they tried to con-
tract with him, and which they mirthfully abandoned
just so soon as he began to take them seriously. In fact,
there was nothing in Andrew's fancied or actual experi-
ence so terrible—not even Aunt Hepzibah or the Amazons
of Herodotus—as the schoolgirl just old enough to plan
and carry out this kind of campaign against him. In-
stances are on record, indeed, in which, convinced that
some overgrown girl was in rebellion, he had dismissed
his school on the plea of a hastily imagined holiday, and
fled to the woods.
Una, however, in the full bloom of her eighteen years
had not been one of Andrew's pupils, and thus had not
tormented him in this particular manner. Hence, when
she stood at the schoolhouse door, one fine morning,
asking if she might attend one of his classes, he sus-
pected nothing. Overcome by her murmured assurance
of interest, he made room on his little platform for her
and for her two friends from the city, never dreaming
that these demure young ladies were not really so
absorbed in the joys of learning as they appeared to be.


IN WHICH COMET GOES LAME 9
Memorable for him was the next half hour, during
which he plunged his pupils through an incoherent lesson
in history, vividly conscious all the while of the three
pairs of eyes that were fastened upon him. When the
ordeal was over, and he succeeded in bowing his visitors
out of the schoolhouse, he had the blissful consciousness
that he, Andrew Parmelee, schoolmaster of Rysdale, had
been bidden to Stoneleigh whenever he chose to visit that
historic mansion.
Aunt Hepzibah, as was to be expected from her per-
verse disposition, opposed the acceptance of this invita-
tion. But Andrew for once went his own way. Within
a month after Una's visit to the school he called at Stone-
leigh, where he was received with a cordiality that quite
dumbfounded him. There was a brief but miserable
period of diffidence and terror, extending over several
subsequent visits; after which Andrew found that it was
really possible to talk to this wonderful, gray-eyed crea-
ture as he had never dared talk to any one before. In
fact, Una listened to him—to his little ambitions, his
beliefs, his petty trials—with a kindly sympathy that was
quite the most perfect thing he had ever imagined.
Then came the end to his romance. It was inevitable,
of course. He wanted her to do more than simply listen
to him—and that was just the one thing more that she
could not do. It was all very tragic to both of them.
Andrew was broken-hearted, full of heroics about fidelity,
eternity, death. And Una—it was her first experience
in human sorrow, and she was genuinely shocked and
repentant.


II
IN UNA'S GARDEN
I INTIL David told her that evening in the garden at
Stoneleigh, Una had not known that her uncle op-
posed her marriage. No reason was given for his oppo-
sition—and David's attitude was quite as much of a
puzzle. He talked of some shadow in his past, and was
on the point of telling Una what it was. But she stopped
him. Their love, she said, had to do with the present,
the future; it had nothing to do with the past. Never-
theless, she wished David had set himself right with
Leighton.
“Why didn't you answer Uncle Harold?” she asked.
At first he avoided her glance, snapping his riding-
whip nervously among the withered sunflower stalks.
Then he turned to her.
“I don't know,” he said.
“You knew he was wrong."
"In a way—yes. And then, I wondered if, after all,
he was right. As I said, I can't explain it to myself.
You stopped my speaking to you about it. ' And yet,
do you know, after talking with your uncle, I convinced
myself—I thought I convinced myself—that I was un-
worthy of you, that our marriage would be wrong."
"Don't say that!” she exclaimed angrily. “Unless
10


IN UNA'S GARDEN
II
your love for me has changed, it is the one right thing
in the world—as mine is for you.”
"Beloved! Let it be so,” he said, his dark mood van-
ishing. “Let the first day of our new life be the first
day of our past. Do you remember that first day?
Coming down the river we spoke hardly a word. You
laughed at me, called me lazy, the boat slipped along so
slowly. And you were right! Watching you I forgot
the stupid business of rowing. Never before were you
so beautiful—but now you are a million times more
beautifull How I wanted to kiss you! If I had dared
kiss just a bit of your dress, anything blessed by touch-
ing you! But I didn't—not then! How it all happened
afterward, when we landed at our island, is the mystery
or, rather, the most natural thing in the world. I was
tongue-tied as ever. Not a word in the language was
in reach of me—at least, I couldn't think of one. Natu-
rally, the dictionary men left out our words; they didn't
know you. And yet, we understood! Did the birds
tell us, I wonder, or was it written on the trees, or whis-
pered in the golden air? Love talks without words. But
now,” he broke off abruptly—“now I must answer
Uncle Harold."
“Why?"
“I wish I could talk it over with Raoul,” he went on,
not heeding the question.
“Why with Raoul?”
“You don't know Raoul."
“Tell me about him.”
“He understands me, that's all. We have been to-
gether a lot. But what's the use of thinking of him!


12
THE GILDED MAN
He's in India, probably—or, maybe, Bogota-yes, it
must be Bogota—and will stay there for years."
“You are fond of him?"
"No! I can't imagine any one being fond of him. He
fascinates you. He's queer. He is my age, yet his hair
is white-even his eyebrows and his eyelashes are white.
Fancy a young man with white eyelashes! There's not
a hint of color in his face. And his eyes—you can't tell
what they are; neither can you avoid them when they
stop twitching and fix themselves on you. Did you ever
see a human being jump out at you from a pair of eyes?
It sounds foolish; but then, you've never seen Raoul!
Love leaps out of your eyes, and all the beauty of trees
and rivers. God made your eyes and put you in them
just to help people. It was the devil who made Raoul's
eyes."
They lingered at the far corner of the terraced garden
where a low hedge of box overlooked a deep, silent grove
of balsams. Beyond, at one side, the gray walls of
Stoneleigh, the square tower bearing aloft a single ray
of light, rose indistinctly against a background of firs.
The familiar scene, softened by the twilight, dispelled
their first feeling of uneasiness. Everything had
changed. Once more the world was brightened by their
love. The touch of Una's hand, the fragrance of her
hair, the joy of her quivering lips, were, for David, the
only things that mattered.
Since their first meeting, a year ago on the Derwent-
water, in England, love had grown with these two. On
the night before that meeting, David had reached Kes-
wick, where Una was staying. Skiddaw and Helvellyn,
when first he saw those famous peaks, were dimly out-


IN UNA'S GARDEN
13
lined behind the evening mists. Next morning the sky
was cloudless, and although David was familiar with
the scenery of Alps, Andes and Himalaya, the charm of
this English landscape touched him deeply. The peace-
ful lake, surrounded by steep hills of living green, and
holding on its breast thickly wooded islands, stirred a new
longing within him. These hills, it is true, were not com-
parable in height or sweeping contour to the majestic
altitudes of Southern Asia or Western South America.
Neither was the Derwentwater equal, in certain scenic
effects, to similar bodies of water that had won his admi-
ration in distant countries. Here, nevertheless, Nature
was revealed in her loveliest mood, and David yielded
himself delightedly to her gracious influence.
As he floated dreamily in his skiff on the Derwent-
water, the dip of his oars made the only visible ripple
on the glassy surface of the lake, while the rugged out-
lines of the hills, drenched in sunlight, seemed to weave
a fairy circle into which the world of ordinary experience
might not enter. The scene reacted inevitably on his
own emotions. For the first time in many months a
feeling of complete restfulness possessed him, a mood
ripe for dreams and all that hazy kind of speculation
lying on the borderland of dreams. In this mental state
he sought one of the islands whose sylvan shadows length-
ened over the water's sunny surface. The hollow echo
from oar and rowlock, the grating of prow on pebbled
beach, broke the silence that had surrounded him ever
since he left the little wharf at Keswick. The lightest
of summer breezes stirred the topmost branches above
him. Invitation was in the air, rest beneath the trees.
This was surely the morning of the world, and he was


14
THE GILDED MAN
the discoverer of this nameless island. Strange that it
should be here, unmarred, untouched, unknown, in pop-
ulous England!
There was welcome in the crackle of twigs beneath his
feet; a responsive thrill from the green moss upon which
he threw himself. As he tried to catch the blue of the
sky beyond the moving canopy of green, he idly won-
dered whether he was the first to pierce the island's
solitude, whether its secret had been kept for him.
Perhaps it was in answer to his unuttered query that
the stillness was suddenly broken by the faintest echo
of silvery laughter. He listened in surprise, for the is-
land was far too small, he imagined, to screen either
house or camp from the view of any one approaching
it, and before he left his boat he had satisfied himself
that no other summer idler was here before him. Never-
theless, there was that tantalizing laughter, coming from
a portion of the island opposite the beach on which he
had landed—and there was the shattering of his day-
dreams.
He parted the low-lying branches of some bushes
growing between him and the shore, but could see noth-
ing save the clear expanse of lake upon which there
was neither sail nor rowboat. He perceived, however,
judging by the distance of the water below him, that the
shore of the island must here become a diminutive cliff,
in the shelter of which, doubtless, was the being whose
laughter he scarcely knew whether to welcome or shun.
The fairy-like spot obviously had some prosaic owner
who was there to enjoy what was his or hers. The
laughter was unmistakably a woman's.
David rose hastily from his retreat beneath the trees,


IN UNA'S GARDEN
15
uncertain whether to apologize for his intrusion or to slip
away unperceived. After all, the laughter chimed in
pleasantly enough with his roving fancies. There had
been wood-nymphs before, if one can believe the old
romancers, who sang the carefree joys of the glens they
inhabited—and perhaps this was a wood-nymph. His
curiosity aroused, David peered again through the
branches. This time he saw her.
She was not a wood-nymph of old mythology, but an
incarnation of the spirit of youth that all morning had
pursued him. She was clad in the simplest of sailor
suits, the blouse of gray silk opening loosely about her
delicately moulded throat and neck, her hair straying
in tawny ringlets over her shoulders and reaching down
to the book which she held in her lap. At her side sat
an old man, of stalwart frame, white-haired, with the
strongly lined face and sharpened features typical of the
student. A wide-brimmed quaker hat lying at his feet
emphasized his freedom from the conventionalities of
dress and was in strict keeping with his long black coat
and voluminous trousers.
They were reading a book together, a book that had
evidently provoked the disturbing laughter and brought
a grim look of amusement to the old man's face. The
noise made by David, however, broke up their pleasant
occupation. The girl turned her head, gazing curiously
at the spot whence came the sound of rustling leaves.
What she saw stirred her as nothing ever had before.
Her glance met David's; and to both of them it seemed
as if all their lives they had been waiting for the reve-
lation of that moment. Her pulse quickened; her cheek


16
THE GILDED MAN
paled, then grew rosy red; her gray eyes dilated with
mingled alarm and pleasure.
The sudden, deep impression was dashed by a singular
interruption. The girl's companion, his back half turned
to David, his face still expressive of amusement, and
looking straight before him at the ripple of water kissing
the pebbles at his feet, spoke in a loud, harsh voice:
“Una,” he said, “remember the schoolmaster! This
man's world is not ours. What does he know of
Rysdale?"
She looked down confusedly, aware that her uncle
for it was Harold Leighton—without seeing this stranger
who had so quickly aroused her interest, spoke as if he
knew who he was and all about him. When she looked
again, David was gone.
Between that first meeting and this evening, a year
after, when they stood together in Una's garden at Stone-
leigh, they had lived through much of Love's first golden
record. Their experiences had not always been cloud-
less. Harold Leighton, it is true, did not actively oppose
their marriage; but he had borne himself in a manner
that showed, at times, either a singular indifference, or
a covert mistrust of the man who was so soon to take
from him his brother's only daughter. It might be from
jealousy, it might be from a perfectly natural feeling
of caution; at any rate, he never discussed their plans
with them, he never explained his attitude towards them.
Never again did he allude to the schoolmaster, nor ac-
count for the strange words he had used on the little
island in Derwentwater.
For the most part he watched their courtship with
a sort of whimsical curiosity, but always withholding


IN UNA’S GARDEN
17
his assent from the marriage to which they looked for-
ward. Una was indignant at his final attempt to sepa-
rate them. His suspicions and David's quixotic manner
of meeting them increased her faith in her lover. Never
before had she been so perfectly happy as she was this
evening with him in the garden's autumnal silence.
“It will soon be forever,” she whispered.
"You are not afraid?”
"If it were possible for our love to die, if it were as
shortlived as the sunflowers, if some one had the power
to take it from us, I would be afraid. Tell me that
no one has the power, David.”
He held her from him for a space, his eyes searching
hers.
"You alone have the power, Una,” he said.
From a slowly moving figure amid the bushes behind
them came an uncompromising question:
“David, you have told her?"
The dusky outline, the large quaker hat, the wide-
skirted coat catching occasionally among the dry twigs
and branches, revealed Harold Leighton. He stood in
the center of the pathway, his gray eyes fixed upon them,
awaiting an answer.
“David has told me," said Una firmly.
“You have told her?” he repeated.
“I have told her that I love her,” he answered.
"Is that all?”
“I told her that I am unworthy of her.”
“Why are you unworthy of her?”
“You speak as if you knew something against me,"
said David. Then added fiercely, “Tell it!"


THE GILDED MAN
With an odd smile on his face the old man looked at
Una.
"He says he is unworthy of you—you are free," he
said. "Una, how do you choose?"
She bowed her head before her lover.
"David, I love you,” she said.
The old man turned towards the house.
“David, I see your horse is lame; you have ridden
him to death,” he said drily. "You had better spend
the night at Stoneleigh."


III
A CHAPTER ON GHOSTS
A STRANGE thing happened that night at Stone-
O leigh.
For the first time in the annals of the younger Rys-
dale generation, the great bare room at the top of the
house, adjoining Harold Leighton's laboratory, had a
guest. In the days of the St. Maur Brotherhood the
monks used this room as an oratory. The shadowy
outline of a crucifix, which had once risen above an
unpretentious altar, could still be traced in the rough
plaster on the narrow east wall. At either side of this
crucifix the blackened marks of bygone sconces were vis-
ible, while in the north and south walls of the apartment
there still remained a number of huge spikes, rusty
with age and swathed in cobwebs, from which had hung
the Fourteen Stations of the Cross.
Since the departure of the monks this oratory had
been practically abandoned by their successors at Stone-
leigh. The earlier members of the Leighton family had
shared the dislike of their fellow townsmen for any-
thing approaching “papistry.” To this prejudice, as it
affected the use of the oratory, was afterwards added
the belief that the gloomy chamber was still frequented
by certain ghostly members of the ancient Brotherhood


20
THE GILDED MAN
into whose spectral doings it was just as well not to pry
too closely. A live monk was bad enough, according
to some of Harold Leighton's ancestors; but a dead
monk who "haunted” was too disreputable altogether
to have anything to do with. Hence, as there was more
room at Stoneleigh than could profitably be used, it was
thought best to close up this ancient oratory, leaving it
to such grim visitants from the past as might choose
it for a meeting place.
There had been seasons, however, when dust and cob-
webs were sufficiently disturbed to bring some semblance
of cheer into the desolate apartment. Thus, the festiv-
ities accompanying the marriage of Una's grandparents
had reached their climax here in a ball at which the local
worthies mingled with a number of excellent persons from
that outside world of fashion vaguely known as "the
city.” No spectral guest, tonsured or otherwise, appeared
on this occasion, and when the revels were ended the
legend that Stoneleigh's oratory was haunted no longer
commanded the respect, or even the interest, of the
credulous.
That was more than half a century ago; and now
David Meudon was the guest of this neglected cham-
ber. He was in a joyous mood. A man more tenacious
of impressions could not have thrown off so easily the
irritation caused by the meeting with Harold Leighton
in the garden. The elder man's suspicions would have
poisoned whatever possibility there might be of imme-
diate enjoyment. The presence of Una, however, her
unqualified acceptance of him, her uncle's suddenly
changed attitude, effectually dulled David's resentment.
Leighton had agreed, apparently, to the plan for an early


A CHAPTER ON GHOSTS
21
wedding, and had even proposed that the married couple
should live at Stoneleigh. In spite .of David's great
wealth, neither he nor his immediate ancestors had been
identified with a locality peculiarly their own; they had
never had a family home. With Una, on the contrary,
the last of the Leightons, the ancestral tie that roots
itself under some particular hearthstone was especially
strong. She was pleased, therefore, with the offer that
promised to make Stoneleigh hers—and so, in the main,
was David.
He liked the old house; its history appealed to his
imagination. He stood somewhat in awe, it is true, of
its present owner, and the prospect of living with him
did not promise unalloyed happiness. But there was
something about Harold Leighton, a suggestion of mys-
tery, that went well with this ancient place, and com-
pletely satisfied David. He laughed at the Stoneleigh
traditions; but when Leighton proposed spending the
evening in the oratory he gladly assented. David had
never been in this part of the house, although he had
often wanted to explore its possible mysteries. The
opportunity to do this had not come until now.
“Yes, there are ghosts here,” Harold Leighton replied
to the young man's jesting query as he, David and Una
entered the great bare room together.
“Then you believe in ghosts?”
“Of course Uncle Harold believes in them,” exclaimed
Una. “I believe in them, and so do you."
"That depends. Show me one and I might."
“Well," commented Leighton; "this is the ghost room,
and here we are. Perhaps your skepticism will find


22
THE GILDED MAN
something to try its teeth on. In honor of St. Maur
we ought to have a demonstration.”
“Splendid!” laughed David. “But you don't mean it.
People never mean what they say when they talk approv-
ingly of ghosts. You are known for a skeptic yourself,
Mr. Leighton. You accept nothing that has not passed
muster with science.”
“There may be a science of ghosts,” retorted the
savant. "Science is not limited to any department of
human knowledge. A scientific theory is based on a
collection of facts. How do you know I have not made
a collection of ghost-facts?”
"And so have a new theory of ghosts to offer!”
“You don't really think those old monks come back,
uncle?" objected Una.
"Oh, I'm not going to tell the secrets of my laboratory
so easily—and to such a pair of tyros,” was the evasive
answer.
They stood before the great fireplace which a thrifty
ancestor had built into the east wall, and enjoyed to
the full the warmth that had not as yet reached the
remote spaces of the gloomy chamber. It needed a fire
to bring some show of comfort to this wilderness of dust
and cobwebs. A few pieces of colonial furniture stood
out in the melancholy wastes—a faded lounge, a gar-
gantuan dresser, several stiff-backed chairs still nursing
their puritanism. At the far end of the room various
objects of a decidedly modern appearance, suggesting
the workshop of a physicist, aroused David's curiosity.
For an explanation of these he turned to Leighton.
"Is this your laboratory?” he asked.
“What do you think of it?” was the reply. “Plenty


A CHAPTER ON GHOSTS
23
of space, isn't there? A man could have a score of
ghosts here—ghosts of monks, you know—nosing about
for their comfortable old quarters.”
“Not so very comfortable in their day, Uncle," sug-
gested Una; "nor in ours, for that matter."
Leighton chuckled grimly. “Are you interested in
ghosts, David?” he asked, looking keenly at him.
“What do you mean by ghosts?"
"Ah, that's it! This old room—are there ghosts in
it, I wonder? The nail marks in the walls, the stains
where the lights were hung, the shadowy remains of the
altar-can you shake off the feeling that the Brotherhood
is still at prayers here, that it still has Stoneleigh for its
home?"
“The Brotherhood no longer exists.”
“There's a family tradition, anyway, that assures us
of its ability to produce some excellent examples of the
old-fashioned, conventional ghost. A very great aunt
of mine, for instance, once ventured alone into this room
and was met by a stalwart being who scowled at her
from under his brown hood and waved her majestically
out of his presence."
“That's the kind of ghost one likes to hear about
and see," commented David.
"It didn't please my aunt particularly. The fright
prostrated her for months. Other imaginative ancestors
have heard the monks chanting together, and seen spec-
tral lights moving about here at midnight.”
“You speak as if you believed it all."
"I can't be defrauded of my family traditions."
“How queer it is!” exclaimed Una, who had been wan-
dering about the room and now rejoined Harold and


24
THE GILDED MAN
David before the fireplace. “I like it, even if it is dirty.
Why have you broken your rule and brought us here,
Uncle? And why do you talk as if you believed in the
Stoneleigh ghosts? You know you don't.”
“Ghosts!” he ejaculated. “I have been making some
experiments recently. I thought you might be inter-
ested in them.”
"Experiments in ghosts,” ruminated David, who be-
lieved Leighton capable of anything.
“Yes," said the old man, enjoying his bewilderment.
“My ghosts may be different from those you have in
mind. If you have followed the recent developments in
psychology you probably know that there are ghosts
attached to the living, whatever the case may be in
regard to the dead.”
“No, I never heard that.”
"Not in those words. 'Ghosts' is not a term used by
the scientist. It involves a medieval superstition. But
I am interested in things more than in words, and I am
not afraid to say that we have been rediscovering
ghosts.”
“Uncle, don't talk enigmas—or nonsense,” remon-
strated Una.
“I confess, sir, I don't follow you,” added David.
"Did you ever feel that you had lost yourself?”
asked Leighton abruptly.
“I don't understand.”
"If you forget a thing, you lose just that much of
yourself, don't you? When you sleep, you enter a world
of dreams. In that world you think, speak, go through
a set of vivid experiences. Awake, you are aware that
you have had these vivid experiences—and yet, you can't


A CHAPTER ON GHOSTS 25
possibly remember them. You are dimly conscious that
you were in another world and that while there you
thought, suffered, rejoiced, much in the same way that
you do here. At times you have a vague feeling that
you have undergone some important crisis in your dream-
existence, or you wake up with the sensation of having
reached some high peak of happiness. But you cannot
recall the details, or even the general outlines, of what
has happened. Not a scene of this dreamland, of which
you are an occasional inhabitant, can you picture to your
waking thought; nor does your waking memory hold the
visage, or even the name, of one of your dream-asso-
ciates."
"All this has to do with dreams," objected David.
“It is admittedly unreal."
"Don't rely too much on old definitions. A part of
you that sleeps now does experience this dream-life
and finds it real. The trouble is, this dream part of
you forgets; it is unable to report to the waking person-
ality what it has seen.
"But it is not only in sleep that this dream-person-
ality takes the place of that which we call the real self.
The opium-eater inhabits a world, opened to him by his
drug, and closed, even to his memory, when the effects
of that drug wear off. Then, there is that curious phase
of dipsomania in which the victim, apparently possessed
of all his faculties, goes through actual experiences
travels, talks with people, transacts business—and when
he recovers from his fit of intoxication finds it impossible
to remember a single circumstance of the many known
to him while under the sway of alcohol. The phenomena
of hypnotism give instances of similar independent men-


26
THE GILDED MAN
tal divisions in a single human personality. All this is
the familiar material of modern psychology, out of which
the scientists build strange and varied theories. I call
these divided, or lost, personalities 'ghosts.'”
“Ghosts of the living, not of the dead.”
“More uncanny than the old-fashioned kind,” mused
Una. “Fancy meeting one's own ghost!”
“Cases of such meetings are on record; Shelley's, for
instance,” said Leighton drily.
“The thing is strange and worth investigating. But,"
added David laughingly, “I am not an investigator."
"It is fascinating,” declared Una emphatically. “Tell
us more about it, Uncle Harold. You spoke of an ex-
periment "
“The experiment, by all means,” said David. "Just
what is it?”
"Trapping a ghost," was the laconic answer.
“And if you succeed in trapping itp
"Ah, then-science generally leaves its ghosts to take
care of themselves. It's a good rule."?
"You say you are going to trap a ghost: you don't
really mean that,” protested Una.
"Remember, there are two kinds of ghosts. As a
scientist I am not interested in the ghosts of the dead.
If they exist outside of fairy tales and theology let some
one else hunt them. But I am interested in the other
and more profitable kind—the ghosts of the living.”
"I don't understand,” said David.
"It needs explanation. Remember what I said as to
the phenomena presented by the dreamer, the hypnotic
subject, the dipsomaniac, the narcomaniac. In each of
these cases one human mind seems capable of division


A CHAPTER ON GHOSTS 27
into two independent halves. And each half seems to
forget, or to be ignorant of the doings of its mate. Now,
I am hunting for this Ghost of the Forgotten."
"Sounds romantic," remarked David. “According to
your theory, don't you need a hypnotized subject-or
at least a dipsomaniac—for your experiment?"
"No. The Ghost of the Forgotten lurks in all of
us. The man or woman in whom this Ghost is not to
be found is exceptional. I doubt if such a being exists
-a being whose Book of the Past is as clear, as legible,
as his Book of the Present."
"But, your experiment, Uncle," demanded Una; "show
it to us.”
"I need help for a satisfactory trial. An experiment
isn't a picture, or a book, you know. It needs a victim
of some kind. What do you say, David?” he asked, turn-
ing abruptly to him.
"You want me for the victim?" laughed David. "I'm
ready. Feel just like my namesake before he tackled
that husky Philistine. Tell me what I'm to do.”
They were standing at the fireplace, Una with one arm
through her lover's, the other resting on her uncle's
shoulder. A scarcely perceptible frown clouded Leigh-
ton's features before he accepted David's offer.
"I merely want you to answer some questions,” he
said finally. “You will think them trivial; but I want
you to answer them under unusual conditions. Let me
show you my latest prize and explain things.”
Leighton strode to the center of the room and thence
down to that end of it where the tools of his laboratory
were kept. David and Una followed, enjoying the mo-
mentary relief from the scrutiny of the old savant, who


28
THE GILDED MAN
was now, apparently, engrossed in his scientific appa-
ratus. There was not much of the latter in sight, and
to the novice unfamiliar with the interior of a physicist's
laboratory, and who carries away a confused impression
of glass and metal jars, tubes, coils of wire, electric bat-
teries, revolving discs, and all the nameless paraphernalia
of such a place, the appointments of Harold Leighton's
workshop would seem simple enough. Yet, the machine
before which Leighton paused comprised one of the
newest discoveries in this branch of science. Its sensa-
tional purpose was to measure and probe the mind
through the purely physical operations of the body.
What appeared to be, at first glance, an ordinary gal-
vanometer stood by itself on a table. Its polished brass
frame, its flawless glass cylinder enclosing the coils of
wire, recording discs and needle, suggested nothing more
than the instrument, familiar to the physicist, by which
an electric current is measured and tested. Connected
with this galvanometer, however, was a curious contriv-
ance consisting of a mirror, over the spotless surface of
which, when the machine was in operation, a ray of light,
projected from an electrified metal index, or finger, moved
back and forth. The exact course of this ray of light,
the twists and turns made by it in traversing the mirror,
was transferred by an automatic pencil to a sheet of
paper carried on a revolving cylinder. This paper thus
became a permanent record of whatever experiment had
been attempted.
That the subjects investigated by this unique galvan-
ometer were human and not inanimate was indicated
by two electrodes, attached by wires hanging from the


A CHAPTER ON GHOSTS
29
machine, intended to be grasped by the hands of a person
undergoing the test. Its use, also, as a detector of human
thought and emotion, and not of mechanical force, was
described by its name—the Electric Psychometer.


IV
THE' GHOST OF THE FORGOTTEN
TODERN rack and thumbscrew,” exclaimed David,
M eyeing curiously the machine whose gleaming sur-
face of glass and polished metal was in striking contrast
with the somber oratory.
Harold Leighton paid no heed to the comment. He
was apparently too busied with some detail in the com-
plicated mechanism before him to attend to anything
else. David and Una, on the other hand, were more
amused than impressed with the odd kind of entertain-
ment chosen for this memorable evening of their be-
trothal by the eccentric scientist, although every now
and then some unexpected bit of irony from him came
disconcertingly enough.
"Why should people, whose lives are blameless, think
of racks and thumbscrews when they see a simple ma-
chine like this?” he asked suddenly, taking up David's
apparently unnoted exclamation. Not waiting for an
answer, he went on, as if with a lecture to which they
had been invited to listen.
"So far as I know this machine is the first of its kind
to reach this country. It is an ingenious development
of certain laws psychologists have been using for some
30


THE GHOST OF THE FORGOTTEN 31
time in their experiments, and is based on a theory that
is, roughly, something like this:
“A thought is a part of the body that gives it birth.
Thinking is not confined to the brain. Like the assimi-
lation of food, it involves man's entire physical nature.
In cases of exaggerated thought or emotion-intense
grief, fear, joy—the physical effects are obvious. The
scientist, however, claims that the physical result from
a mental cause is not confined to these extreme cases.
A thought, the presence of which is not perceptible in
gesture, facial expression, or the slightest visible emo-
tion, is, nevertheless, communicated physically to every
part of the body. Throw a stone into a pool of water.
If the stone is large, the waves caused by it can be seen
until they spend themselves on the shore; if it is small,
the resulting ripples become invisible long before that.
The point is, the ripple exists, whether we see it or not,
just as does the wave, until it has run its course.
“A thought, in its physical effect, is like the stone
thrown into a pool. If it is a big, exaggerated thought,
the agitation produced is outwardly visible. If it is
small, more subtle, less sensational, its physical effects
are invisible, although, theoretically, reaching in ripples
to the extremities of the body. Hence, the psychologist's
problem is: to detect and measure these invisible, intan-
gible ripples of the mind.
“This machine, my 'ghost-hunter,' solves the problem.
A Russian scientist discovered that an electric current
passing through the body is affected by any abnormal
physical, or nervous, activity there encountered. Thought
is a form of electric impulse and would, therefore, modify
any other electric force crossing its path. Hence, Tar-


32
THE GILDED MAN
chanoff's law. Its practical application means, the literal
measurement of our mental ripples. And this is done by
the psychometer.”
"How?" asked David.
"It's very simple. You hold these electrodes in your
hands. An electric current is turned on and passes
through you. While you are thus charged with elec-
tricity, I throw the stone, the thought, into your mind.
The degree, or quality, of disturbance caused by this
thought modifies the electric current, the varying agita-
tion of which is made visible by the movements of an
electric finger across this mirror. From there it is re-
corded on the sheet of paper in this cylinder.”
“What a horrible contrivance!” exclaimed Una.
"I see how it works," mused David, “except for one
thing. How do you introduce the thought you want
to measure?”
"If I explain that the experiment wouldn't be pos-
sible," said Leighton with a laugh. “The thought must
come through unconscious suggestion, or our Ghost of
the Forgotten will refuse to appear. In a way, it is
like a game--and is more interesting than most games.
Did you ever play the game of twenty questions?”
"I have,” interjected Una. “It's this way. Some-
thing-a book, a piece of furniture, anything at all-is
chosen by one set of players to be guessed by the other
set. Then the set who know the secret have to answer
twenty questions about it, asked by the other side. The
questions sound silly, but they usually discover the
secret."
“Is your experiment like Una's game?” asked David.
"Not exactly. Sit down in this chair and you'll see.”
Go The We Go it is


THE GHOST OF THE FORGOTTEN 33
Seated as directed, the psychometer stood a little back
and at one side of him.
“Now,” said Leighton, giving him the electrodes,
"hold these, one in each band.”
"It's like an electrocution!” exclaimed Una. "Are you
very uncomfortable?”
“Oh, quite the contrary! Now, Mr. Leighton— "
"Ready? Here goes the current. You will scarcely
feel it.”
Leighton pulled out a small lever. A faint humming
sound was heard. The electric finger on the mirror in
the machine became suddenly illuminated.
“Do you feel it?" asked Una.
“Yes; it's rather nice. This hero business is all right,
especially when you preside at the performance, Uną."
“Now for your game of twenty questions, Uncle
Harold. Of course, you are going to let me into the
secret?”
“How can I?” he retorted. “David has the secret.”
"I have it?” repeated the other, perplexed.
“Certainly. But this isn't exactly a game. You'll
find it tedious, Una. Why not stay with Mrs. Quayle
in the library until it's over?”
"Nonsense! Of course I'll stay here,” she replied
firmly.
“What am I to do?” asked David. “Holding these
handles is easy enough—but nothing happens.”
“Let me explain," said Leighton. “I am going to
give you, one at a time, a number of disconnected
words. As you hear each word, you must reply with
the first word that suggests itself to your mind. For
instance, suppose I say 'black. The word gives rise,


34
THE GILDED MAN
instantly, to some answering mental picture, and that
picture will suggest a word with which your experience
has associated it. Thus, when I say 'black, you may
think of ‘night'; or, if your thought goes by contra-
ries, the word 'white' may occur to you. In any case,
tell me the first word that comes into your mind upon
hearing my word—and remember that the promptness
of your reply is an important factor in the experiment.”
"It sounds easy,” remarked David. “Let's begin."
On a small table at which he was standing, Leighton
placed his watch, a writing-pad and pencil. Seating him-
self, he commenced the experiment in the way he had
proposed, noting each word as he gave it on the pad
before him, and marking the number of seconds elapsing
before each of David's answers. Una, ensconced in a
large armchair, watched the scene intently.
“Theater," was Leighton's first word.
“Music,” came the prompt reply.
“Noise.”
“Sleep."
"Lion."
“Teeth.”
“Sound.”
“Desert.”
“Ocean."
“Blue.”
A long series of similar question and answer-words fol-
lowed, apparently chosen at random and not indicating
any sequence of ideas. Leighton spoke with exaggerated
monotony, his eyes fixed on David, his hand moving
with mechanical precision as he jotted down the words
and the time taken for each reply. Scarcely any agi-


THE GHOST OF THE FORGOTTEN 35
tation was noticeable in the finger of light upon the
mirror, and this part of the experiment seemed—at least
to. Una-a failure.
"I don't see what the machine has to do with it," she
said, somewhat puzzled. “David could just as well
answer your words without holding those things in his
hands.”
“Una,” said Leighton, giving this as the next question-
word and ignoring the interruption.
David smiled, hesitated a moment before replying,
while the electric finger trembled slightly and then moved,
slowly and evenly, back and forth across the mirror.
"Light,” he answered softly.
More question-words followed, most of them receiving
prompt answers and producing no appreciable effect in
the psychometer. It was noticeable, however, that words
having to do with places gave a different result-a vibra-
tion of the electric finger, indicating, according to the
theory, that they awakened a deeper interest than other
words in David's mind.
In experiments of this kind the operator's choice of
words is carefully made, as a rule, and not left to chance.
They usually have a certain continuity of meaning. The-
oretically, also, the operator's personality is kept in the
background, so that the subject is freed from any emo-
tional impulse save that created in him by the question-
words. But there is always the possibility that this per-
sonality will unconsciously influence the subject's mind,
which is thus impelled in directions it might not other-
wise take. Hypnotism may thus, unintentionally, play
a part in an experiment of this kind, and the subject


THE GILDED MAN
made to follow, in the words uttered and the degree of
emotion displayed, his inquisitor's suggestions.
It would be hard to tell whether hypnotism gradually
came into Leighton's experiment with David. Certain
it is that as the trial went on a change came over the
two men. Their features grew tense, they were as vigi-
lant to thrust and parry in this game of words as two
fencers fighting on a wager whose loss would mean much
to either of them. In David anxiety was more marked.
The electric finger in the psychometer, unconsciously
controlled by him, moved more rapidly and with greater
irregularity over the face of the mirror. At times it
remained fixed in one place; then, with Leighton's utter-
ance of some new word, it would leap spasmodically for-
ward, in a jagged line of light which would be recorded
automatically on the cylinder at the back of the machine.
David could not see what was happening in the psy-
chometer. Outwardly he showed no emotion, except the
anxiety to hold his own in this word duel with Leighton.
Nevertheless, the electric current passing through him
registered a series of impressions that grew in variety and
intensity. Theoretically, these impressions were David's
thoughts and feelings acting upon the electric finger;
and thus the line of light traced upon the mirror was
really a picture of his own mind.
For Una the affair had lost its first element of com-
edy. The meaningless words, the monotonous serious-
ness with which they were uttered, seemed, in the begin.
ning, a delicious bit of fooling improvised for her benefit.
She delighted in the original, the unexpected, and noth-
ing, certainly, could be more foreign to the customary
betrothal night entertainment than this ponderous pair-


THE GHOST OF THE FORGOTTEN 37
ing of words between her lover and her uncle. The
real purpose of the experiment had not impressed her.
The talk about ghosts gave an amusing background to
it; but this was afterwards spoiled, it is true, by the
tedious discussion of psychological problems. Of course,
Una assured herself, this experiment-or this game-
was a psychological problem, and she felt certain David
would solve it, whatever it might be, in the cleverest
fashion.
Had Una understood from the first just what Leighton
intended by his proposed "ghost-hunt” she would have
followed more keenly the details of this novel pastime.
As it was, these details appeared to have no intelligible
object in view and failed to arouse her interest until
some little time had elapsed. Then she began specu-
lating on the meaning of her uncle's disconnected words
and wondering why they drew from David just the re-
plies they did. More to amuse herself than anything
else she compared the images which these words evidently
aroused in David's mind with the images suggested to
her.
For “ship,” he gave "sky”; she thought of "water.”
“Mountain" produced “tired”; she would have said
“view." Her word for "river” was "rowing”; his "sun-
shine.” He said "mystery" for "Africa”; she, “negroes."
His words were never the same as hers, a fact indicating
the wide differences in their individual experiences. More
singular still, David's words were always remote, in
meaning or association, from the question-words to which
they were the answer; hers were quite the opposite. Why,
she asked herself, did he say "anger” in response to


38
THE GILDED MAN
"India"; "misery” to “temple”; “joy” to “ocean";
"lost” to “guide"; "slave" to "friend”?
As the experiment progressed most of her uncle's words
were bound together, Una noticed, by a similarity in
character. She even fancied she could detect in them
the disjointed bones of a story. Most of these words
had to do with foreign travel, and as David was known
to have visited many countries it was natural that the
test should follow this line, especially as this was a quest
for the Ghost of the Forgotten. In this connection it
was noticeable that the series of words chosen by Leigh-
ton reversed the itinerary which Una was certain David
had followed. Thus, the first question-words indicated
the English Lake region, where David had ended his
travels. Then came various European countries, and
after these Morocco, Egypt, Arabia, India, China, the
Islands of the Pacific and the western coast of America.
Supposing that Leighton had David's actual itinerary
in mind, he was going over it by a series of backward
steps, and had now reached a point at which, as Una
remembered, the long journey began. With each back-
ward step, also, she noted that the agitation of the elec-
tric finger in the psychometer increased. David could
not see what was happening in the machine behind him,
although it was his own emotions that were being re-
corded there. Why was he so agitated? Why did he
try to hide his feelings? Why did these simple words
from Leighton have such power over him? As Una asked
herself these questions her sympathy for him increased,
and she awaited the end of the experiment with anxiety.
Leighton paused after David matched his question-
word, “California," with “home.” The electric finger


THE GHOST OF THE FORGOTTEN 39
threw a tremulous line of light upon the recording mir-
ror, and in both men the indifference shown when they
began this strange game was lacking. The expectancy
in David's face changed to defiance as “California” was
followed by the question-word "ship.” The electric finger
gave a swift upward flash, and there was a longer pause
than usual before the answer came "storm.” “Pacific"
was met by "palm trees"; and these were followed by
"land," "Indians"; "hotel," "strangers”; “natives,"
“lost”; “clew," "wealth.”
With the last pair of words the agitation recorded in
the psychometer reached its highest point. David's face
was pale, his features drawn, his grasp on the electrodes
tense. Una could not bear to witness his struggle. Al-
though ignorant of the cause, his suffering was all too
evident, and she determined to rescue him at once from
her uncle's cruelty. Leighton met her appeal with char-
acteristic coolness, ignoring her demand to bring the
experiment to an end. But he changed the sequence of
words he had been using.
"Homer" was the next question-word given.
The effect was immediate. David looked at the old
man with astonishment. The jerky motion of the electric
finger ceased, while instead an even line of light was
traced over the mirror. The answer-word came promptly
this time: "Iliad.”
A series of similar words followed, and as the experi-
ment took this new direction David's nervousness van-
ished. Then, without warning, the travel series was
taken up again; and this time each word came like the
blow of a hammer upon a nail that is swiftly and surely
driven to its mark.


40
THE GILDED MAN
There was no mistaking the result. David's limbs
stiffened, as if to ward off a blow. His look of relief
gave place to a hopeless sort of misery; the telltale
electric finger jumped forward in exaggerated lines as
if to escape from some merciless pursuer.
“South America,” demanded Leighton.
“Spaniards,” after a pause, was David's answering
word.
“Mountains.”
“Muleback.”
“Lake.”
“Gold.”
The answers were hesitatingly given, almost inaud-
ible. Again Una protested.
“Stop!” she commanded. “You have no right "
Leighton waved her imperiously aside.
"Dynamite," he continued, addressing David.
“Darkness,” came the hesitating answer.
“Raoul Arthur."
Silence. A weird dance, as of some mocking spirit,
seized the electric finger pointing at the mirror. Una
knelt at David's side, her hands upon his shoulders.
His lips quivered as he looked despairingly at her.
"Guatavita,” said Leighton harshly.
No answer. The electrodes slipped from David's
grasp. The finger of light became suddenly motionless.
David had fallen, unconscious, in Una's arms.


THE SEARCH FOR EL DORADO
EAVE him with me,” said Leighton. “Wait for us
L with Mrs. Quayle.”
"No! No!” answered the girl passionately, kneeling
beside David, who was lying on the couch. “You have
killed him!”
"Don't talk nonsense,” he said coldly, yet with sym-
pathy in his keen gray eyes. "This had to be, and I took
my own way about it. Now, go. He is all right. He
is safe with me."
David drew a long breath. He looked vacantly at
Leighton, then turned to Una.
“Do as he says,” he whispered.
“David, I will stay with you.”
“Not now; I must speak to your uncle."
“David!”
She looked into his eyes, trying to read there the mys-
tery that was parting them.
"It will be better for all of us,” said Leighton gruffly.
Unable to hide her fears, Una rose and moved away
from them. The boards of the well worn floor creaked
harshly as she walked to the far end of the room. Paus-
ing at the door, she looked back.
"I will wait for you,” she said.


42
THE GILDED MAN
When the sound of her footsteps died away, David
turned to the old man, who was busied with his scientific
apparatus.
"Well, how do you feel?” asked Leighton, gathering
up the notes which were strewn on the little table.
“Curiously here," replied David, drawing his hand
across his forehead. Then he asked: "How did you
know?"
"That's easily answered. About two years ago I read,
in the Journal of Psychology, a paper by your friend,
Raoul Arthur, describing the strange mental effect pro-
duced on a young man by a dynamite explosion in a
South American mine. Arthur is something of an author-
ity in abnormal psychology, and his report of the acci-
dent interested me. The name of the young man was
not given. I made inquiries long before our chance
meeting with you in England. I learned, among other
things, who the young man was. Before we met on the
Derwentwater, I had watched you at the hotel."
“You wrote to Raoul Arthur?"
"I did not,” he answered drily. "A newspaper account
of the accident gave me the clue I needed. According
to this account, you were killed in the mine explosion,
and no trace of your body or clothing was found. It
was long afterwards, in Arthur's report, that your reap-
pearance, under peculiar circumstances, was described.
Since then I have learned of your travels. But I have
noticed that you always avoid any reference to your
South American experiences. So, I appealed to the
psychometer."
Leighton, absorbed in his notes, was apparently un-


THE SEARCH FOR EL DORADO 43
aware of the eagerness with which David followed his
explanation.
"It's all very simple," mused the young man. “And
yet, it seemed like necromancy."
“Science is not necromancy."
“But the report,” urged David; “I didn't know Raoul
had written a report.”
“You know he is a psychologist, a hypnotist?”
“Yes,” was the answer, with something of a shudder.
"But—why all this elaborate experiment of yours?"
“To prove a theory—and to be certain about you."
“Why?”
“What a question! You expect to marry Una. Be-
fore your marriage takes place—if it does take place
I wish to clear up whatever mystery there is hanging
over your past."
“And your experiment has shown you— p" David
asked in a low voice.
"It confirms the theories of Tarchanoff and Jung,”
he replied pedantically. "It proves the intimate con-
nection existing between mental and physical phenomena.
The personal result is still incomplete. On that side I
must know more."
"I will tell you what I can,” said David resolutely.
“But first—what has Raoul written about me?”
"Merely a reference. Read it after you have told me
your story. Our experiment is still unfinished, you
know."
“Unfortunately, I can't tell you the very thing you
want to know. The series of words in your test seemed
to revive some forgotten nightmare; and the horror of it
was that this nightmare kept just beyond my reach-
your Sely a rent has


44
THE GILDED MAN
as it always does—its riddle unsolved. This, with your
strange knowledge of what had happened, surprised me
into this ridiculous weakness."
"So I thought,” said Leighton. “Now, what do you
remember?”
"I'll have to go back a little. But-you probably
know it all, you know so much of my history."
“Never mind. I want you to prove the truth of what
I know."
David looked at Leighton doubtfully.
“Very well,” he said, "I'll do what I can."
Much of his story, as he told it, was decidedly vague.
In the main outline, however, it was simple enough,
although ending in a mystery that he was unable to
clear up.
Three years ago, it seems, David went to work on a
project based on a legend belonging to prehistoric
America. Traditions of the immense wealth and the
civilization found in certain parts of South America by
the Spanish conquerors had always fascinated him. And
of all these traditions the one telling of El Dorado,
the Gilded Man, interested him most.
From the early South American chronicles he learned
that, within a few years of Pizarro's discovery of Peru,
three other explorers, starting independently from points
on the Caribbean and Pacific coasts, after months of
perilous adventure, reached a great tableland in the
Upper Andes, where Bogota, the capital of Colombia,
now stands. It was "El Dorado" who drew these ex-
plorers thither. From the Indians on the coast they had
heard stories of the great Man of Gold, who lived among
the mountains of the interior and who possessed treasure


THE SEARCH FOR EL DORADO 45
so vast that all the wealth of the rest of the world could
not equal it. Arrived in this mysterious region, they
found, not El Dorado, but a superior race of people,
somewhat like the ancient Peruvians, showing, in the
barbaric splendor of their temples and palaces, every
evidence of wealth and culture. These people, however,
known as the Chibchas from their worship of the god
Chibchacum, were suspicious of the Spaniards. A war
of conquest followed, in which thousands of the natives
were massacred and their finest temples and monuments
destroyed. Sajipa, the Chibcha king, was subjected to
the cruelest torture by his conquerors in their effort to
find out from him where he had hidden his treasure.
But he proved hero enough to suffer martyrdom rather
than reveal the secret. For this he was put to death,
and the Spaniards contented themselves with the triv-
ial amount of gold and emeralds extorted from his sub-
jects. They then established themselves in colonies on
the Plains of Bogota. The climate was delightful, the
land fertile and, as they soon discovered, rich in min-
erals. From the few surviving Indians they learned
some of the native legends. In one of these, the legend
of El Dorado, they believed they had the clew to the
treasure they had been seeking. This legend was mixed
up with the ancient mythology of the Chibchas, and
had played a leading part in their religious ceremonial
for centuries before the arrival of the Spaniards. It
was as follows:
On the edge of the Bogota tableland, not many miles
from the city that is to-day the capital of Colombia,
there is a lake, Guatavita—the Sacred Lake of the Chib-
chas. Geologically, it is a pocket formed by a cluster


46
THE GILDED MAN
of spurs near the foot of a conical mountain. It is
small, circular in shape, and reaches a central depth of
214 feet. Beneath this lake, according to tradition,
lived the national god, Chibchacum. To keep on the
right side of this god, to make atonement for the people,
a semi-annual feast was observed—the Feast of El
Dorado.
Twice a year the king of the Chibchas, in celebrating
this Feast, was floated on a raft to the center of the
Sacred Lake. He was then stripped of his royal robes,
his body anointed with oil and covered with gold dust.
Glittering in the sunlight this Gilded Man stood at the
edge of the royal raft and was saluted by his subjects,
who encircled the shores of the lake, each one bearing
an offering of gold and emeralds. Then, as if dazzled
by the splendor of their monarch, the people reverently
turned their faces away from him and, at a signal from
the priests, threw their treasures over their heads into
the lake, while the Gilded Man, followed by the heaps
of precious stones and metals which were with him on
the raft, plunged into its waters. No god ever received
such a shower of wealth at his shrine as was thus lavished
twice a year, for centuries, on the god Chibchacum. All
this wealth, except an insignificant sum that the Span-
iards rescued, is to-day, according to the legend, at the
bottom of Guatavita.
Besides this semi-annual tribute, it was rumored that
at the time of Sajipa's murder the entire remaining
treasure of the Chibchas had been thrown into the lake,
not as a votive offering, but as a means of hiding it
from the Spaniards. It took fifty men, so runs tradi-
tion, to carry the gold dust to Guatavita from the king's


THE SEARCH FOR EL DORADO 47
treasury alone. All the minor chieftains of the king-
dom made a similar sacrifice of their possessions on this
occasion.
Years afterwards, the Spaniards, stirred by these
stories, attempted to drain the lake. This meant the
piercing of earth and rock walls nearly nine hundred
feet thick and proved too great an undertaking for the
engineering machinery that they had in those days. But
before they gave up the work they succeeded in low-
ering the level of the lake sufficiently to recover a certain
amount of treasure. Since that time the secret of Gua-
tavita has remained undisturbed. To solve it David
went to Bogota. Raoul Arthur, who had done most of
the practical planning for the expedition, went with
him.
The motives of the two men engaged in the enterprise
were not exactly similar. David, according to what he
told Leighton, hoped to solve an archæological riddle and
to study a hitherto lost people whose prehistoric civiliza-
tion equaled that of their neighbors, the Incas of Peru.
Arthur, on the contrary, whose fortune was still to be
made, regarded it frankly as a mining scheme that prom-
ised fabulous returns in money, with a comparatively
small amount of risk and labor. The two points of
view were not antagonistic, and for a time the friends
worked amicably enough together. In Bogota they eas-
ily secured from the government the necessary permit to
drain Guatavita. But the attractions of the Colombian
capital, the hospitality with which they were received,
delayed the actual working out of their plans. Fasci-
nated by the romance of this picturesque city and
charmed by the unique race of mountaineers inhabiting


48
THE GILDED MAN
it, David postponed the prosaic task of mining, while
Raoul became absorbed in studies relating to their pro-
posed venture, meeting people with whom his companion
seldom came in contact. Lake Guatavita and its secret
was thus, for a time, forgotten—at least by David.
When the social gayeties of the capital were exhausted,
he took up in earnest the work he had planned to do.
He bought a full equipment of the best mining machin-
ery and hired a large number of laborers. But the
enterprise proved more difficult than he expected. The
Spaniards, who had worked at the problem three cen-
turies before, were bound to fail on account of their
lack of engineering machinery. To empty Lake Guata-
vita, they tried to cut through the mountain which
formed one of the containing walls of that body of water.
Under the circumstances their partial success was amaz-
ing. The V-shaped gash they cut through the mountain
is a proof of their industry, even if it failed of its full
purpose. But it did lower the level of the lake-although
this result was followed by an unforeseen catastrophe.
The sudden release of the water through the channel
opened for it left the precipitous shores of the lake unsup-
ported. These shores then caved in, covering whatever
treasure there might be in the center of the basin with
masses of rock and earth, and thus placing a new obstacle
in the way of the future miner.
David and Raoul took the problem from a different
angle. They abandoned the old cuttings of the Span-
iards and planned a tunnel through the thinnest part of
the mountain to the bottom of the lake. In this way
they hoped to control the outflow of water, after which,
they calculated, the recovery of the treasure would be


THE SEARCH FOR EL DORADO
a mere matter of placer mining. To do this they had
boring machines and dynamite modern giants, of whose
existence the old Spaniards never dreamed.
As a first test of the existence of treasure in the lake,
native divers explored some of the shallow places near
the shore. A few ancient gold images were thus secured,
enough to corroborate the legend regarding Guatavita.
These images were curiously carved. One represented
a small human figure seated in a sort of sedan chair.
Another was a heart-shaped breastplate upon which were
embossed human faces and various emblems. Others
were statuettes, rude likenesses, probably, of those who
threw them into the lake as votive offerings.
These gold tokens spurred on the miners. Work on
the tunnel was rushed, and a subterranean passage, sev-
eral hundred feet in length, directed to a point just below
the bottom of the lake, was soon completed. Then a
peculiarly hard rock formation was reached that the
boring machines could not pierce. To overcome it,
dynamite was used.
"Since dynamite was one of the final words in your
test,” said David, in telling his story to Leighton, “you
know that its use in our venture brings the climax of
my mining experience. How to explain this climax to
you—or to myself—is beyond me.
"When we decided to use dynamite in our excavations,
a long fuse was laid from the tunnel's entrance to the
unyielding wall at the other end. There this fuse was
connected with a dynamite charge placed in the crevice
of the rock to be destroyed. Raoul, waiting to set off
the fuse, remained at the opening of the tunnel. I
was at the further end, looking after the laying of the


50
THE GILDED MAN
dynamite. As I started for the entrance, I was a little
behind the others. The latter no sooner gained the outer
air than a muffled roar shook the tunnel. The ground
swayed, the terrific concussion of air seemed to rend
my very brain, and I fell unconscious.”
David's story came abruptly to an end. Pale and list-
less, wearied by the effort to give a coherent account of
his experiences, he looked hopelessly at Leighton.
“Well,” said the latter, “what then?”
"If I could only tell you!”
“Surely, you remember something—there is some
clew "
“Nothing! Just-darkness.”
“Some faint flashes here and there—glimpses of
people, scenes, a house, a street—the sound of voices, a
word ?"
“Nothing!”
“Try to remember.”
“No use. I've tried it too often. It's all a blank. I
thought, for an instant, that in your psychometer test
the veil would be lifted. Instead—as you know-I
went to pieces.”
“Very well,” said Leighton reassuringly, "let us go
back to your story. You were in the tunnel when the
dynamite went off. You were thrown to the ground;
you lost consciousness. What is the next step in
memory?"
“Wait,” said David slowly. “The explosion was on
the ninth of May. The date was indelibly fixed in my
mind; I have verified it since. When I recovered con-
sciousness "


THE SEARCH FOR EL DORADO
51
"You mean, your normal consciousness," interjected
Leighton.
“Very well. When I came to myself, then, it was on
the morning of the fifth of August.”
"Nearly three months afterwards,” ruminated the old
man. “You found yourself - p"
“Seated in a chair, in a room in a strange house in
Bogota.”
"Alone?”
“Raoul Arthur was with me. He was bending over
me, his eyes fixed on mine, making passes with his hand
before my face."
“You were in a hypnotic trance."
"I was coming out of one apparently."
“It would be hard to define your condition. Of course,
after the explosion you had been picked up and carried
to this house in Bogota, where you had remained, suffer-
ing from a severe nervous shock—perhaps concussion of
the brain-for three months.”
"I had been in that house scarcely an hour before my
memory was suddenly revived."
“How do you know that?" demanded Leighton sharply.
“The rainy season was on in August in Bogota. I
found myself in my riding dress. My rubber poncho,
dripping with rain, was on the floor. My boots, the
spurs still attached to the heels, were caked with mud.”
“And Arthur told you-
"At first, I was bewildered, as one is when suddenly
aroused from a long sleep. With full return of conscious-
ness, I asked Raoul how I came to be there. He said
he didn't know."
"He must have given some explanation."


THE GILDED MAN
“Very little. What he said mystified me more than
ever. He declared that a short time before a messenger
had come saying that I was in the house, waiting for
him.”
“Whose house was it?"
“Raoul's. He had rented it two months before and
was living in it alone with two servants who were run-
ning it for him.”
“And this messenger- p"
"An Indian, whom neither of us saw or heard of again,
although we inquired high and low."
"The servants must have had information to give?”
“On being questioned they said I had arrived that
morning on horseback, with an Indian, who left me
there. This Indian was probably the messenger who
informed Raoul of my arrival, and who afterwards dis-
appeared. My horse was tethered in the courtyard."
“The clews seem to have been pretty well obliterated,”
remarked Leighton sarcastically. “But Arthur must have
been able to shed some light on the affair."
"He said that when he found me, I did not recognize
him and was in a sort of dazed mental state. Then he
tried hypnotism. He had often hypnotized me before
that, and was thus familiar with my condition while in a
trance. Well, as soon as he saw me, after my long dis-
appearance, he declared that I showed every symptom
of hypnotic trance. So, he at once tried the usual method
for bringing me back to a normal condition—and with
complete success.”
"In his report Arthur emphasizes that as the singular
feature of the case. His account, so far as it goes, agrees
with yours. It gives the facts of the explosion, how you


THE SEARCH FOR EL DORADO 53
were supposed to be killed, how you disappeared for three
months, and how, when you were found, you were in a
trance from which he awakened you."
“Does he say that, on coming out of the trance, I
could remember nothing that happened during those three
months?”
“Yes."
"Well, there's the whole case. You know all that I
do about it.”
“All that Raoul Arthur knows?”
“All that he says he knows."
"Ah, then you have your doubts?”
"Just a suspicion. I have a feeling that he could tell
more about my disappearance than he chose to tell.”
“Why did you leave him?"
"I left Bogota the day after I came out of the trance.
My distrust of Raoul and the horror that I felt for every-
thing connected with my mysterious experience, made
my stay there more than I could stand. But we parted
friends, and I've sent him money to go on with the exca-
vations. How he's getting on I can't tell you. I've lost
my interest in El Dorado. I won't visit Bogota again."
For some minutes Leighton paced up and down the
shadowy room. Then he stopped, with the air of one
who has reached a decision.
"Our course is plain,” he announced.
"I've tried everything; there's nothing to be done,”
said the other hopelessly.
“David, you've missed the obvious thing," was the
emphatic reply. “We must go to Bogota.”
“Go to Bogota!”
“You and I will face Arthur together. If he knows


54
THE GILDED MAN
anything more about this matter, he's bound to tell us.
If he doesn't know—if your suspicions are groundless—
we'll solve the mystery of those three months some other
way. And perhaps we'll stumble upon your Gilded Man
at the same time," he added with a chuckle.
“And Unap"
“She has a way of deciding things for herself. For all
I know she may want to go with us.”
“Would you consent?”
“There's no reason against it. In a ghost hunt a
woman's wit may help.”
“Very well, then,” said David, new energy in his words
and manner.
“You agree?"
“I am entirely in your hands."
“Then we'll take up our interesting little experiment
again in the land of El Dorado—and this time we'll run
it out to the end.”
“Without a psychometer, I hope,” said David.


VI
EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH
THERE is in Bogota a street, the Calle de Las Mon-
1 tanas, that meanders down from the treeless foot-
hills of the gray mountain ridge overlooking the city, and
broadens out into a respectable thoroughfare before losing
itself in the plaza upon which, facing each other diago-
nally, stand the venerable Catedral de Santa Fe and the
National Capitol. This street, resembling the bed of a
mountain stream, in the first half mile of its course runs
through a huddle of lowly houses whose thatched roofs
and white adobe walls seldom reach more than one story
in height. The inhabitants of this district are called,
in playful irony, by their more prosperous neighbors,
"paisanos,” fellow-citizens; or else, scornful of compli-
ment, "peons,” day-laborers. Here dwell the teamsters
of the city, the washerwomen, the tinkers, the runners,
the street-sweepers, the beggars, the proprietors of small
tiendas, the bootblacks, the vendors of sweets—a mixed
army of workers and idlers, who gain a livelihood, as
chance favors, by their hands or their wits.
The peon of Colombia is an interesting possibility.
He is more Indian than Spanish, but he has developed
certain novelties of feature that belong to neither of
these parent races. He has something of the savagery
55


56
THE GILDED MAN
of the one, and the romance of the other; yet he is quite
unlike Spaniard or Indian, and when these have disap-
peared from the mountain republic the peon will take
their place. To-day he lacks the energy needed for
self-assertion. There have been occasions, however,
when this peasant of the Andes has taken the lead in a
popular uprising and, although he has usually failed to
win what he was after, his reserve of power promises well
for the future of his race.
It was the politically awakened peon who was in evi-
dence on a certain morning in Bogota, not so very long
ago, at the upper end of the Calle de Las Montanas.
The sign of his awakening was to be seen in an unusual
commotion among the good-natured “paisanos” of the
street, from which an onlooker might reach the astonish-
ing conclusion that some sort of “demonstration” was
under way. Revolutionary or otherwise, there are
people, it would seem, who engage in these affairs simply
through a desire for sociability. Their warlike declara-
tions are really not unamiable. An Andean revolution,
indeed, may not be more terrifying than a “fiesta," and
is never so noisy. In either case, these people make
common cause of their joys or their grievances; and it
was unquestionably a sudden burst of neighborliness that
brought the inhabitants of the Calle de Las Montanas ::
together on this particular morning.
An army of bootblacks was assembled in the middle of
the street. Bogota, ancient seat of the Muyscas, City
of the Mountains, is, for some unknown reason, rich in
bootblacks. Hence, it was not surprising to find a hun-
dred or more knights of the brush and bottle mustered
here. They were of varying age and size, clad in non-


EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH 57
descript rags, over which protectingly flapped the ruana,
or poncho, a garment inherited from the Indians, and
now universally worn in Spanish America. War's ordi-
nary weapons were lacking in this tattered regiment. In-
stead of sword and musket each youngster carried in front
of him, hanging from his neck, a rude box containing the
bottles and brushes needed in his calling. Ordinarily these
weapons are harmless enough; but these volunteer sol-
diers felt that they were adequately armed for whatever
adventure might be in the wind. Patriotism—and a ruana
-can start any revolution. In expert hands, the vicious
twirl of a ruana should bring terror to the most stalwart
of foes—and of patriotism there was a generous supply
this morning in the Calle de Las Montanas. .
Pedro Cavallo, .a wiry youth, taller than his fellows,
gifted with shrill eloquence, acrobatic gestures, and hence
acclaimed the King of the Bootblacks, was the leading
spirit of the throng surrounding him.
“Viva Pedro! Por la Patria! Por la Patria! Baja los
puercos!” shouted first one and then another in answer
to his orders given with all the assurance of royalty.
“Compadres!” he addressed them, switching his cum-
bersome box of blacking to one side with oratorical
cunning; "we will lead the way! We will march to the
palace! We will offer ourselves to the President! We
will march to the coast, and then we will sweep out the
Yankees!”
“Si! Si!” they shrilled in eager response. “Por la
Patria! Por la Patrial Mata los Yankees puercos!”
A quizzical spectator, a true Bogotano, robust and red-
cheeked, swathed in an ample ruana, echoed the enthu-
siasm.


THE GILDED MAN
"It is an army of emboladores!” he shouted sonorously.
“Let the Yankee bull beware!”.
Now, “embolador," although it is a word familiarly
used in Bogota to designate a bootblack, has for its first
meaning "one who puts balls on the tips, of a bull's
horns," a thing not easy to accomplish, requiring,
as it does, the conquest of a traditionally warlike animal.
Applied to this Falstaffian army of bootblacks, the irony
of the term was broad enough to delight the bystanders,
at the same time that it flattered the vanity of those for
whom it was intended.
Distances meant little to the emboladores. No matter
how far they had to travel, they vowed they would keep
going until they met “los Yankees.” And, when they did
meet them, they had no doubt of what would happen.
Confident in their own ability to put the "usurpers” to
flight, they had the sympathy of the peons surrounding
them.
At this period, immediately following the proclama-
tion of Panama's independence, there was widespread in-
dignation throughout Colombia against the United States.
Americans were accused of starting the “revolution"
which robbed the mother country of her richest posses-
sion, and the Colombian government was accordingly
expected to avenge the national honor. The native au-
thorities, lacking money and troops, did not respond to
the popular demand, and it was left to the "patriots” to
denounce the invading Yankees, and to fit out such vol-
unteer expeditions as the one planned by the emboladores
of the Calle de Las Montanas. Bogota, the largest city
of the republic, the center of its official life, became the
rallying place for political malcontents. A “Sociedad


EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH 59
del Integridad Nacional”-a body of agitators at odds
with the native government and bitterly opposed to the
United States—had been formed here. This Sociedad
had already organized two expeditions against the
Yankees and the Panamanians. Both expeditions, made
up of the dregs of the city, poorly armed, scantily clad,
relying for their food on such contributions as they might
pick up along the way, had left for the coast where they
planned a guerilla warfare that would bring them, they
believed, in triumph to the Isthmus. The third expe-
dition was being engineered by the emboladores, whose
enthusiasm and love of adventure made them excellent
starters of an uprising. Even the elder peons, skeptical
at first of what was going on, soon threw aside their
reserve and fell into line with the bootblacks. Cheers
greeted each addition to the little army, and it was not
long before Pedro Cavallo, “Rey de los Emboladores,”
headed an eager throng of followers numbering well into
the thousands.
What to do with so strange a mob of volunteers might
have puzzled a more experienced leader than Pedro. But
nothing daunted him. The bigger and the more unruly
his army, the greater seemed to be his confidence in him-
self as its commander. And his royal swagger won un-
bounded admiration. Grimy children, too young to join
the ranks of the emboladores, scurried hither and thither
among the bystanders, shrieking with delight at this
staging of their favorite "Pedro the King." Women,
setting down their bundles under the projecting latticed
windows of the houses, talked wonderingly of this sudden
glory that had come to a youth whom they had thought
skilled in nothing mightier than the blacking of boots.


60
THE GILDED MAN
Solemn greybeards, proprietors of dingy little tiendas,
stood in the doorways of their shops, secretly amazed,
but still holding themselves grimly aloof from the noisy
demonstrations of their neighbors.
“Yankees are pigs,” said one of these sellers of sweets,
native tobacco and white rum, quoting gloomily the popu- ,
lar estimate of Americans.
"Yes,” replied another; "and pigs are easily beaten."
"Truly, that is so," quoth the first philosopher, struck
by the turn of a new idea. "Yes, that is so. Even a
woman can beat a pig, if the pig has eaten too much."
“Yes, yes, Compadre! And Panama is too much for
the hungriest pig."
Then, out of the surging crowd of volunteers, came a
stentorian voice:
“Donde vamos, Pedro el Rey?” (“Where shall
we go, King Pedro?”).
“To the President! To the Palace San Carlos!”
shouted Pedro, brandishing a stick snatched from one of
the faithful.
As the volunteers had agreed to do this in the first
place, the announcement was instantly approved. San
Carlos, "the palace," was not far off-a few short blocks
this side the principal plaza of the city—and word was
quickly passed along to march thither. Still shouting
vengeance on all Yankees, the emboladores, followed by
a mob of peons, moved down the street, encouraged by
the primitive jests and delighted cheers of the bystanders.
Early as it was, San Carlos was ready for this unusual
visit. Although it was popularly known as "the pal-
ace”-as all residences of high officials are in Colombia-
this large rambling structure of stone and plaster was in


EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH 61
no way distinguished from the buildings that elbowed it
at each side. Its dilapidated walls ran sheer to the nar-
row sidewalk, overlooking which were several balconies
of the kind commonly used in Spanish-American build-
ings. A large square opening, guarded by rude, heavily
timbered doors, formed the entrance to this simple execu-
tive mansion which was built around a huge courtyard,
or patio. From this patio two broad flights of carpeted
stairs led to the living rooms and offices above. This
arrangement of rooms, balconies, patio—the fountain in
the middle of a bed of flowering shrubs and plants, per-
petually spraying a moss-grown cupid; the brick walls;
the inner corridor supported on arches of masonry and
forming the boundary of the four-sided court—all this
one finds, with slight variation, in the home of the aver-
age Bogotano, as well as in the official “palace.” The
unique feature of San Carlos, growing out of the very
heart of this ancient dwelling, is a huge walnut tree,
rising some forty or fifty feet above the patio, overtop-
ping the adjacent roofs, and marking this, better than
could any national emblem, as the presidential residence.
Within the gateway of the palace and at the foot of
the stone steps leading to the corridor above, there is
always a guard of soldiers. On the morning of the visit
of the emboladores this guard was greatly increased in
numbers and was commanded by a youth whose resplen-
dent uniform was in striking contrast with the dingy, ill-
fitting apparel of his men. As the tramp of the peons
echoed along the street, the soldiers marched hastily
across the patio and drew up outside the entrance to the
palace. Here, waiting groups of idlers shouted with


THE GILDED MAN
delight as the bootblacks, King Pedro in the lead, rounded
the corner of San Carlos.
“They will polish the Yankees,” declared one admirer.
“No, they have come for the president's boots.”
"Emboladores! Emboladores! Beware the bulli”
"Here, King Pedro, give us a shine!”
"Don Pedro is busy; he's lost his brush.”
“He's keeping it for his Yankee customers.”
“He will take Panama with it.”
The unterrified Pedro, meeting this raillery with serene
indifference, halted his men before the entrance to the
palace and addressed the captain of the guard.
“We have come to see Don Jose.”
“But, muchacho,” replied the captain affably, "that
is impossible. His Excellency is busy. Who are you?”
"Pedro, El Rey de los Emboladores!” piped up several
volunteers.
“Ah!” said the captain, saluting profoundly. “And
what do you want with his Excellency, Majestad?”.
"To tell him we will fight the Yankees who have stolen
Panama.”
"I will tell his Excellency this,” was the grave reply.
“Of course, he will be pleased.”
While these two youths were talking—for after all, the
magnificent toy captain was quite as young as the King
of Brush and Bottle—the curtains of the large window
above were drawn aside and a tall, spare figure, in a
long frock coat, stepped slowly forth on the balcony.
He was an old man, with a close-clipped beard and mous-
tache, sharp, thin features, and an owlish way of peering
through his large, gold-bowed spectacles that made one
look involuntarily for the ferule of the schoolmaster held


EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH 63
behind his back. This elderly personage had been, in-
deed, one of the notable pedagogues of Bogota in his
day, a fact which, joined to his scholarly achievements in
his country's literature, seemed to his neighbors a suf-
ficient reason for voting him in as the proprietor of San
Carlos. To this decision the less powerful and more
numerous citizens of the republic could make no effective
protest.
On this particular morning it was the schoolmaster,
wearing his most indulgent smile, who faced the boot-
blacks in the street below him. As soon as they caught
sight of the familiar figure they gave him an enthusiastic
greeting, the democratic flavor of which he seemed to
relish. Popular applause had been lacking in Don Jose's
career, and since the troubles over Panama had broken
in upon his quiet cultivation of the muses, it looked very
much as if his countrymen's indifference might turn to
open hostility. Thus, the friendly greetings of a rabble
of bootblacks and peons was not to be despised.
"Don Jose! Don Jose!” they shouted cheerfully, with
that peculiar upward inflection by which the Spanish-
American gives a warmth to his salutation not suggested
by the words themselves. “El Presidente de Colombia!
Viva Don Jose! Baja los Yankees!”
To all of which Don Jose, one long thin hand thrust
stiffly between the breast buttons of his coat, listened in
dignified silence, inwardly gratified by these boisterous
visitors.
“Bueno, bueno,” he said in a high querulous voice; "I
am very glad to see you, my friends. This is a great
honor. But, what can I do for you?"


64
THE GILDED MAN
“Send us to Panama!” bawled Pedro, acting as spokes-
man for his men.
“Dear me!” exclaimed the old man, enjoying the situ-
ation and ignoring its political consequences. “Panama
is far off--and why should I send such good citizens away
from Bogota?”
“Por la Patria! Por la Patria! To fight the Yankees!"
“The Yankees? But why- "
“They have stolen Panama. They are pigs!”
“What a people!” he exclaimed, nonplussed. "I am
sorry for that. Well, if I send you, what will you do?”
“Esta bueno! Don Jose will send us to kill the
Yankees!” they shouted enthusiastically.
"No! No! I didn't say that!” he expostulated; then
continued, as if by rote: “The government will look after
Panama. If fighting is needed to preserve the republic,
the army will do its duty"-an assurance which increased
the martial swagger of the gold-braided toy captain,
although unappreciated by his men.
“We will fight with the army, Don Jose," declared
Pedro. “We will drive out the Yankees and save
Panama.”
“Viva Colombia! Baja los Yankees!” shouted the
peons. As this voiced the popular sentiment, and as
Don Jose's loyalty in the Panama affair had been ques-
tioned by some of his enemies, no sufficiently discreet
reply occurred to the puzzled schoolmaster, whose intel-
lectual gifts, moreover, were lacking in the quick give-
and-take needed for street oratory. So, smiling benignly,
and somewhat fatuously, upon the noisy rabble, he thrust
his hand deeper into his coat, peered more owlishly
through his gold-rimmed glasses and, forgetting its future


EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH 65
possibilities, got such enjoyment as he could out of the
novel situation.
The volunteers exploded with joy over the president's
apparent approval of their demand. Had Pedro cared
to stop for further talk the impatience of his comrades
would have prevented him. Although these peons had
no definite plan, they were looking for something more
exciting than an exchange of opinions with this old grey-
beard of San Carlos. A march through the city, and
then on to Panama, seemed as good a program as any to
men who were indifferent to the dry details of geography.
There were more cries of "Down with the Yankees!” and
cheers for Don Jose. Then, before that bewildered states-
man could take himself off, his unwashed admirers filed
past his balcony, leaving the toy captain and his men
to close the gates they had so courageously guarded.
Under other skies and among a more vindictive people,
a roving crowd of peons, clamorous for war and threaten-
ing all who opposed them, might be regarded with some
alarm. But the mildness of the Andean character, its
dislike for actual bloodshed, lessened Bogota's danger.
Even the timid Don Jose was not apprehensive. But
there were others who thought it wiser to keep these
peons away from Americans living in Bogota. Not that
anything would really happen-past experiences seemed
to prove the harmlessness of this kind of patriotism.
When the second expedition left for the Isthmus, for
instance, an American, looking for novel impressions,
had posed the volunteers before his camera and snap-
shotted them to his heart's content while they were de-
nouncing “los Yankees.” But one mob of patriots may
be quite unlike another, and it so happened that when


66
THE GILDED MAN
King Pedro's army of emboladores, in its aimless wan-
derings after leaving the Palace of San Carlos, stumbled
upon a native of the United States, the encounter became
a very lively one indeed.
As a rule plenty of Americans are in Bogota. Some
go there to do business for the merchant houses which
they represent; some have their own local interests, others
are after those tempting government "concessions”
granted to the disinterested person who develops the
natural resources of the country by monopolizing them.
When the Panama “revolution" came, most Americans
left Bogota, conscious that it was not a promising time
to seek aid from the national treasury for their ventures.
Those who were unable to leave, stayed within their
respective hotels whenever a popular uprising seemed
likely.
It was down a blank little side street, leading nowhere
in particular, lined with modest one-storied houses, in a
quiet district unfrequented by foreigners, that the roving
peons met the one American who had failed to conceal
himself on this particular morning. After leaving San
Carlos, Pedro had turned his men into the Plaza de
Catedral, where they had clattered along the wide con-
course, pausing to make a few fiery speeches before the
capitol, whose unroofed courts—the building was unfin-
ished at that time—and majestic Doric columns seem
meant for oratory. From here they had gone the zigzag
length of the principal business street. Then tiring of
their progress through an unresponsive city, they had
started to find their way back to the Calle de Las Mon-
tanas, choosing for this purpose the obscure Calle de Las
Flores.


EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH 67
At their approach the street was practically deserted,
all the doors opening on it carefully barred and, in some
instances, even the blinds of the windows drawn. Thus,
it happened that a tall man, muffled in a ruana, wearing
a wide sombrero, and with his back against the entrance
to one of the houses, became unavoidably conspicuous as
the throng of emboladores surged along the roadway
abreast of him.
"Viva Colombia!” shouted Pedro, giving the usual
greeting. “Baja los Yankees!”
Instead of answering in a like strain of enthusiasm, the
man addressed tossed the loose end of his ruana over one
shoulder, showing, as he did so, a pallid face on which
played a contemptuous smile.
“Soy un Americano,” he replied composedly, glancing
at Pedro and then turning his eyes, which were singularly
piercing, from one to another of those crowding about
him.
“Un Yankee! Un Yankee! Baja los Yankees!"
The cry was followed by a threatening movement of
the emboladores toward the man whose attitude seemed
to be a challenge to them.
“Halt!” yelled Pedro. “I know this senor. Give him
a chance. If he cheers Colombia, we will let him go.
If he refuses, he is prisoner. Now, Senor Yankee-viva
Colombia!”
The emboladores gave a lusty cheer. It was met with
scornful silence by the man who had declared himself a
Yankee.
“Si! Si! Pedro el Rey!” they all shouted. "He is an
enemy to Colombia. He is prisoner!”
The wily Pedro, unwilling to risk his position by deny-


68
THE GILDED MAN
ing the demands of his followers, yet fearing to aid in
an act of violence, diplomatically said nothing. The de-
fiant American, meanwhile, regarded the peons with a
disdain that enraged them, although checking, through
its very audacity, their hostility.
"I am not a Colombian,” he said quietly; “I am not
an enemy to Colombia. But I won't cheer against the
Yankees.”
“Un Yankee! Un Yankee!” they retorted. “A
Yankee thief come for our gold!”
"There is truth in that,” he laughed sardonically. "I
want gold that you are too lazy to get for yourselves
just as you were too lazy to keep Panama.”
“Un loco! He is insane!” cried Pedro in disgust.
“Let us go!”
“No! No!” yelled the angry mob. And amid cries of
"Locol Demonio! Yankee! Puerco!” those in the front
ranks made a lunge at the man whose exasperating cool-
ness had kept them at bay, while a shower of missiles
came from the peons who hovered in the rear.
But the attack was skilfully met. Tripping up his
first two assailants and warding off the blows of a third,
the Yankee, smiling derisively, stealthily passed his left
hand along the ponderous door against which he was
leaning. This street door, as is usual in Colombian
houses, had a small “postigo," or wicket, large enough
to admit one person at a time, and opening much more
readily than the unwieldy mass of timber of which it
formed an insignificant part. Having found the latch
of this wicket, the Yankee gave it a quick backward
thrust, stepped lightly over the threshold and closed and
barricaded this scarcely revealed entrance behind him.


EMBOLADORES ON THE MARCH 69
A storm of oaths followed his escape. Then, not con-
tent with this vent to their anger, the peons, using such
stones and weapons as came to hand, rushed upon the
wooden barricade standing between them and their prey,
at the same time calling upon the inhabitants of the house
to let them in. These Colombian doors, however, are
built to withstand a stout siege, and the din might have
been indefinitely prolonged had it not come to an abrupt
and unexpected conclusion.
Three sharp blows upon the door were given from
within. Then a clear feminine voice was heard above the
uproar.
“Stand back, Senores! I will open.”
There was a dead silence. This time it was the great
door itself that swung slowly open. There was no sign
of the escaped Yankee in the wide corridor beyond. In
his stead there stood, unattended, unprotected, a woman.
She was clad in a long robe of white, her dark hair
flowing unconfined down her shoulders. Her bare arms,
exquisitely molded, and of a tint that vied with her
dress in purity, were crossed upon her breast. There
was no fear in her eyes as she faced the abashed men and
boys before her.
“This is my house, Senores,” she said calmly. “What
do you want?”
Involuntarily the leaders of the mob fell back, awed
by the girl's courage and dignity. There was a murmur
of voices, ending in a chorus of admiration and homage.
"La Reinal La Reina!" they cried. “La Reina de los
Indios!”
Then the sharp-witted Pedro, resuming command over


70
THE GILDED MAN
his ragged troops, stepped forth, waving to the others to
keep silence.
"It is nothing, Senora,” he said, bowing with an awk-
ward grace that played sad pranks with the box of black-
ing hanging from his neck. “We are patriots of Colombia
marching to Panama. We mean no harm to you.”
Then, turning to the emboladores, he shouted, with his
old enthusiasm:
"Por la Patria! Por la Patria! Viva la Reinal Baja
los Yankees!”
The crowd took up the familiar call, and with one of
those quick changes of sentiment that sometimes sweeps
over such gatherings, fell into a march, cheering the mo-
tionless "Reina de los Indios” as they filed past her, and
leaving the Calle de los Flores to its accustomed dreams
and quiet.


VII
LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS
ELICITA, where is this Senor?”
ľ "Ah, Dios mio! safe enough, in the sala. But for
thee-nina Sa’pona, how scared I've been! And they
called thee queen, thou who art our queen indeed, beauti-
ful, brave one! But thou shouldst not do this not for
so ugly a senor-my beautiful nina!”
With the great door closed, and the noise from the
peons growing fainter in the distance, the stern dignity
of the Indian girl vanished before the simple talk of her
old nurse. Queen of the Indians, as the peons called
her, this girl might be—although why they called her so
they would find it difficult to tell—but for the faithful
creature, with her eager caresses and affectionate words,
royalty, real or imaginary, scarcely counted.
“There you are, foolish Felicita, always scared at some-
thing! Danger? What danger? Only a greeting from
those who are as fond of me as thou art. Now, to thy
work. I must speak with this troublesome Yankee.
Many a day it is since I have seen him here. And then
- Felicita, I am dying of hunger.”
Shaking her head at her mistress's lack of caution, the
old nurse hobbled down the gloomy corridor and into
the sunny patio, fragrant with jasmine and sweet rose,


72
THE GILDED MAN
where two Indian girls, seated upon the flags surrounding
the opening of a central cistern, were crushing corn in
the primitive stone hand mills of their race.
Resuming something of her stateliness of mien, the
youthful “Reina de los Indios” turned to the right along
a passage-way leading off from the main corridor into
the sala, or principal living room of the house. This
was more scantily furnished than such apartments usually
are in Bogota. All that it had was of the plainest—half
a dozen cheap rocking chairs, a straight-backed cane
settee, a tall pier-glass, ornamented at the top and sides
with meaningless gilt stucco work, and a dark walnut
cabinet, carved in elaborate hunting design, with massive
spiral pillars supporting the heavily panelled sides and
front—the only object in the room giving evidence
either of taste or wealth. Even the tiled floors were
bare, save for a few well worn petates (Indian mats)
which failed to supply that feeling of comfort provided
in this chilly climate by the thick woollen rugs and car-
pets generally in use.
Awaiting her entrance stood the Yankee whom she
had rescued from the emboladores. Confronted by his
ragged assailants he had shown an admirable coolness;
in the presence of this young girl his manner lacked that
air of confidence he had so readily assumed in the face
of danger. He was ill at ease; his glance shifted from
one object to another in the room, his sombrero was
tightly clenched in his hand, he avoided the steady gaze
of his rescuer. Yet there was in his attitude toward her
an indefinable homage, due, perhaps, to the queenly rank
that others accorded her, or else to the rare feminine
loveliness, the subtle power of which few could escape.


LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS 73
“Senorita, you have done me a great service,” he said.
“I was on my way to see you when I had that brush with
the peons. That is my excuse for taking refuge in your
house and exposing you to danger. Will you forgive me?
Will you "
"Ah, my good Don Raoul!” she interrupted. “What
questions! And from you! Of course, if I was of
service to you just now, I am glad.”
“It is good to hear you say that, Senorita,” he replied
with evident relief. “I was afraid things might be dif-
ferent between us. You see, you disappeared so com-
pletely. You have not been in Bogota for months, for
years, Senorita. And then, to-day—at last-I heard of
your arrival. I wanted to see you. I have not for-
gotten you in all this long time, you may be sure,
Sajipona!”
A faint flush overspread the girl's delicate features; a
strange look kindled within her dark eyes.
“It is well, Don Raoul,” she said in a low voice.
“And here you are, still the Queen-beautiful, mys-
terious!” he exclaimed.
“You know I am not a queen," she murmured.
"Why, even now they called you so. Those jackals
felt your power-just as I do, beautiful Sajipona!”
“Enough, Senor! Titles and flatteries I neither care
for nor deserve are a mockery in my own house."
“The title is yours by tradition, if not by right. As
for flatteries "
“We do not live by traditions,” she interrupted.
“To me, at least, you are La Reina de los Indios.”
"Ah, well, Senor,” she said with a low laugh; "every
queen, I fancy, should have at least one subject. And


74
THE GILDED MAN
now—supposing that I am this queen you talk of—what
is it you want of me?"
“We always used to be friends, Sajipona. Can we
not be friends still?”
“There's another strange question! But-surely you
did not come here to ask me that? There is something
else, Don Raoul,” she added, regarding him intently.
"It is that, first of all. And then I had it in mind
to tell you that my friend is returning to Bogota-David
Meudon.”
"David Meudon," she repeated, as if pondering the
name, looking steadily at Raoul the while.
“But then—what is that to me, Senor?” she asked.
"You remember him?”.
“Yes, of course I remember him. He has been away
a long time, hasn't he?” Then, after a pause: “Why
does he come back?”.
“To solve a mystery—so he writes me."
“A mystery?”
“He calls it a mystery," laughed the other. "You see,
when we were living here together he disappeared for
threė months. We thought he had been killed by a dyna-
mite explosion. Surely, you have heard of it, Senorita?”
“Yes—I think everyone has heard of it. And then,
at the time, there were rumors. For instance, I heard-
I heard who exploded the dynamite.” .
“Sure enough, there were all kinds of rumors. But,
of course, the whole thing was an accident, a horrible
accident, that nearly cost David his life. He didn't heed
the signal in time or something went wrong—the signal
or the dynamite. Anyway, he wasn't seen or heard of
again for three months. We all thought he must have


76
THE GILDED MAN
“Could he ever remember?”
“There is only one way in which he could.”
“How is that?”
“If he could return to the same scenes and conditions
through which he passed during those three months.”
“But for that you would have to know, of course, what
those scenes and conditions were?”
“Exactly, Senorita.”
“Really, it is all very interesting,” she said dreamily.
"I have heard something like it in fairy tales, I think;
but not in real life. And now—why do you tell all this
to me, Senor?" she asked, as if struck by a novel idea.
“Ah, Sajipona,” he replied with a smile; “I have told
you merely in answer to your own questions. You have
shown that-for some reason or other—you are inter-
ested.”
"Interested? Why, of course I am interested—if for
no other reason, simply because you are. This David
Meudon, you say, left Bogota three years ago? Strange
that he should leave so suddenly—and with his work in
this country unfinished!”
"I can't tell how much you know of David,” he said
musingly. “But there is every reason why you, more
than anyone else, should be interested in the man who
attempts to solve the secret of Guatavita-Sajipona."
There was no mistaking the emphasis placed on the
girl's name; nor was there any disguising the effect its
peculiar pronunciation had upon her. Sajipona looked
at Raoul in alarm, then turned from him in manifest
confusion. Presently, she gave a low laugh and her
eyes sought his again.
“Ah, . you Yankees are strange people,” she said.


LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS 77
"Some say, you are only money makers. But, it appears,
you are more than that; for you listen to foolish legends,
like the rest of us—and you believe them.”
“Yes, I believe this one, Sajipona."
“Does the man who so strangely lost his memory by
your dynamite explosion believe this one?” she asked
laughing.
"I don't know. Perhaps he never heard it.”
"Well, it's very interesting, anyway-I mean, about
the trance and the dynamite. I want to hear the end
of it. You will surely come again, won't you? And
tell me when your friend arrives in Bogota,” she added,
giving him her hand.
"You are ever the queen; you dismiss me from your
presence,” he complained, taking her hand, nevertheless,
and kissing it.
"The streets are safe for you now, Senor,” she said.
“Thanks to you, La Reina!”
“Ah, I would do much more for you than that, as you
know, Don Raoul!” she exclaimed, an arch smile giving
to her beautiful features a rare flash of piquancy. “And
now—Adios, Senor!”.
"Surely, not 'Adios,? but until the next time,
Sajipona,” he replied, as he bowed himself from the sala.
Raoul's belief in the legend involved in Sajipona's
name marked a radical change which he had undergone
since he arrived in Bogota. To his keen, logical mind
the proposal to enlist in a quest for the long lost El
Dorado seemed, at first, far too quixotic to be taken
seriously. But he humored the idea, originating in
David's fondness for studies touching the borderlands of
romance, in the hope that he would divert a purely fanci-


THE GILDED MAN
ful project into more profitable channels. Later on,
however, he was himself caught by the practical possi-
bilities lurking in the old Chibcha legend. Hence, it fol-
lowed that while David was enjoying the picturesque life
of the little mountain capital, Raoul was delving in musty
records, running down old traditions, and studying the
topography of the Bogota tableland with a degree of
patience as to details that the subject had rarely received.
For days at a time he burrowed in the crumbling archives
of the Museo Nacional, an unpretentious little edifice,
not far from the palace of San Carlos, in which were
stored, pell-mell, practically every evidence that remained
of Colombia's prehistoric civilization. Here, with only
the grey, shrivelled mummies of two ancient kings of the
Chibchas to watch him, he had reconstructed, as best he
could, the past of this vanished race of people, had con-
vinced himself of their wealth, scarcely any of which had
fallen into the hands of the Spanish, and had laid his
plans for discovering a treasure which had balked every
explorer before him.
Combined with these studies in the National Museum
and in the vicinity of Lake Guatavita, Raoul had busied
himself with the peons of the neighborhood. From these
primitive people he learned enough to corroborate the
main features in the Chibcha tradition as handed down
by Castellanos, Pedro Simon, Piedrahita, and other chron-
iclers of the Spanish Conquest. In addition, he unearthed
the curious legend that the Sacred Lake would never
yield up its treasure except to one in whose veins flowed
the blood of the Chibcha kings. This bit of prophetic
romance had come, it was said, from father to son
through the four centuries following the martyrdom of


LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS 79
the last of the zipas. He was told, also—and it added
to the fantastic character of the prophecy—that a secret,
known only to the zipas and their direct descendants,
attached to Lake Guatavita, and that by means of this
secret the treasure hidden beneath its waters would be
discovered.
Raoul at first paid little heed to this part of the legend.
It had too strong a flavor of latter-day romance to go for
more than a recent addition to the main story of the
wealth of the Chibcha kings and their peculiar religious
customs. The persistence of the idea, however, the be-
lief in its truth on the part of those repeating it, gradually
excited his interest and led him into all kinds of theories
as to the existence and recovery of the Guatavita treasure.
That so fanciful a legend could have won even the
partial belief of so ingrained a skeptic as Raoul seems
at first absurd on the face of it. But most of us can
recall instances enough of similar lapses from the hyper-
critical to the over-superstitious to make this one not
altogether incredible. As often happens, also, in such
cases—as with those otherwise reasonable persons who
believe in fortune-telling, omens, apparitions, etc.,—this
bit of superstition, having once lodged itself in Raoul's
mind, increased in importance, opening up an absorbing
field for his love of psychological novelties, until it finally
became a monomania, an obsession, as the scientists
call it.
These ancient zipas, he argued, were the chieftains of
a superior race of people. In the annual tribute from
the royal treasury to the national god, who was supposed
to live at the bottom of Lake Guatavita, they catered
to the credulity of their subjects while, in reality, laugh-


80
THE GILDED MAN
ing in their sleeves at them, so to speak, all the time.
Men of their intelligence were not apt literally to throw
away wealth they had themselves amassed, and which
they must consider as belonging to them and to their
descendants. But as they—apparently-did throw it
away, it was more than likely that they used some kind
of hocus-pocus, known only to themselves, by means of
which the God Chibchacum—in whose existence they did
not believe was cheated of his annual tribute. How
they practiced this deception they must surely have told
· their children. The coming of the Spaniards, however,
and the overthrow of the ancient dynasty, had made of
the whole affair a greater secret than ever. It would be
handed down from one generation to another so long as
there were descendants of the zipas; but these survivors
of the royal line would find it increasingly difficult, owing
to the presence of the Sapniards, to take the steps needed
to recover their ancestral treasure.
There was some plausibility in Raoul's reasoning,
enough, perhaps, to excite the romancer's interest, but
scarcely that of the practical man of affairs to whom
are broached the details of a mining venture. Convic-
tion grew, however, with Raoul, whose investigations were
confined thenceforward less to the archæological aspects
of the problem and more to the task of discovering the
whereabouts of the living descendants of the zipas.
These speculations and the singular inquiry into which
they had drawn his companion excited only a mild inter-
est in David. The latter, strangely enough, enchanted
with the picturesque novelty of the cloud-city in which
he found himself, felt less of the antiquarian's zeal than
when Bogota was a remote geographical possibility. Per-


LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS 81
haps it was the stimulus of mountain air, a bracing cli-
mate, that got him out of his habitual bookishness.
Here, at any rate, there was neither the warmth nor the
color of the tropics to entice him to the indolent dream-
ing that one of his temperament might easily yield to in
the lowlands of Colombia. The peculiar lustre of the
grey-green Bogota tableland, the cool crystalline atmos-
phere, invited him to continual physical exercise. For
days at a time he went on long horseback rides. Then,
tiring of this, and feeling something of the restraint ex-
perienced by the stranger who exerts himself abnormally
in the rarefied air of the higher Andes, he fell into the
easy habits of the pleasure-loving Bogotano. Muffled
warmly in a ruana, he strolled comfortably about the
streets of the city, amused by the chaffering of peons
in the market place, enchanted by the quaint and varied
architecture of the houses and public buildings, the gro-
tesque paintings and bas-reliefs in the churches; or else
he would sit by the hour in the open window of some
cafe on the Cathedral Esplanade, watching the gay throng
of idlers and politicians for whom this is a favorite ren-
dezvous. The dust and cobwebs of the Museo did not
attract this former dabbler in antiquities, who abandoned
himself eagerly to the fleeting impressions gathered from
an altogether pleasing environment. And Raoul, natu-
rally secretive, gave him the vaguest outline only of the
course and the result of his studies.
The discovery that made the deepest impression on
Raoul took place under circumstances which intensified
his superstitious feeling in regard to everything con-
nected with the buried treasure. He was on one of
numerous trips to Lake Guatavita. Riding alone, he


82
THE GILDED MAN
reached the gloomy body of water toward nightfall.
Tethering his horse near the trail at the edge of the plain
over which he had ridden, he approached the lake on
foot, his mind penetrated by the absolute silence of the
place. He had come for no specific purpose except to
examine further the old Spanish cutting that gashes the
great hill which originally rose, a solid wall of rock, above
the unknown depths of the waters. Through this narrow
cleft, on the instant that it was completed three cen-
turies ago, a mighty torrent had hurled itself into the
valley beyond. As this torrent subsided and the lake
shrank to its present compass, a wide margin of pre-
cipitous shore was left bare to the scrutiny of treasure
seekers. Even after the lapse of centuries this portion
of the lake's basin still shows the ravages wrought by
the Spaniards. It remains a gaunt, jagged surface of
rock and flinty gravel, unclothed by tree or shruban
ancient sanctuary whose violation defies the repairs of
time.
Raoul smiled contemptuously at these evidences of
the rude labors of the early Spaniards. With modern
science to back him he would not attack the problem in
this way. He would pierce this ancient secret to its
heart by subtlety, not brute force. For the hundredth
time he went over the system of lines and levels by
which he and David planned to tunnel their way to the
coveted prize, indicating to himself the various points
from which they proposed to start their work, and noting
and comparing the obstacles they would encounter by
each route.
Thus occupied, Raoul slowly circled the lake, follow-
ing the precarious path that still remained along the edge


LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS 83
of the old high-water mark—the path upon which had
marched the gaily vestured Chibcha devotees in the
pomp of their semi-annual festival, when the dancing
waves radiating from the heavily laden rafts of the
Gilded Man and his court, washed over their sandalled
feet, and all was sunshine and joyous laughter, glitter of
gold and emerald offerings ready poised to be hurled,
with shouts of triumph, to the insatiable God in his
crystalline caverns below.
Scenes from the old legend flashed across the prosaic
details of Raoul's mining schemes, as he stood in the
shadow of the majestic hill that lifted its huge shoulders
behind him. Not a ripple scarred the surface of the
sombre waters. The ancient God, it would seem, wait-
ing in vain the tribute that once was his, had grown
angry and made of his Sacred Lake a shrunken circle of
dark and sinister meaning.
Into its silent depths, fascinated by the desolation
surrounding him, Raoul gazed intently. He would revive
the old ceremony. He would bring an offering to this
hidden God-an offering bearing a menace, a demand for
the treasure that he felt already in his grasp. He seized
a stone from the many that were strewn at his feet. It
was smooth, worn by the streams through which it had
chafed its way hither; he paused as he weighed it thought-
fully in his outstretched hand. Then he threw it high
in air, over the center of the pool. The sound of the
falling missile plunging through the waters echoed sul-
lenly along the towering walls of granite. The weird
effect delighted him, and again and again he cast stones
into the water, dislodging some of the more unwieldy
rocks from their resting-places and watching them bound


84
THE GILDED MAN
and ricochet, with a thunderous noise, down the precipice
after the others.
In the midst of this fantastic play he was arrested by
the cry of a human voice. High, clear and sibilant it
came; a word of command, as it seemed, out of the
empty space above:
“Silence!”
He thought it might be the rustle of the wind that
had just sprung up and was stirring the gnarled branches
of the trees fringing the brow of the hill upon whose
precipitous slope he was standing. Carefully he scanned
the rocky pinnacles rising on either side of him. If it
was not the wind, the invisible being whose voice he
had heard might be hidden in one of the many clefts that
furrowed the face of the hill behind him.
Again be heard the command. Silvery, unmistakably
human; the peremptory voice came from some one near
at hand, a few hundred yards, it might be, from where
he stood:
“Silence!”
The tall, slim figure of a woman, clad in flowing white
robe, with dazzling arm stretched downward, flashed in
sharp outline against the dark hillside. She stood just
above him, on a projecting shelf of rock. Her eyes,
calm and stern, were not turned toward Raoul, but fixed
intently on the lake, as if beholding-or expecting to
behold—something there that was hidden from all others.
Involuntarily Raoul bent his head to this singular
apparition, scarcely knowing whether it was a creature
of his imagination, conjured out of the strange fan-
cies awakened by the lonely scene, or a real woman,
statuesque, beautiful.


LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS 85
Why was she here? Whence had she come? How ad-
dress her? Vague questions crowded upon him, giving
place finally to the conviction that he was an intruder
and had unwittingly offended one whose rights here were
supreme. And then he yielded to a feeling of shame at
being caught in senseless boy's play.
"Pardon, Senorita,” he murmured lamely.
“Ah,” she sighed, a trace of irony in her voice; "it is
I, a stranger here, who must ask pardon for daring to
interrupt you."
"Again—pardon,” he said, moved by the seriousness,
the bitterness in her tone. "Surely, you are not a stran-
ger to Guatavita, to Bogota?” he added, not concealing
his astonishment.
“My home is far from here,” she said simply. "Four
days ago I left it for the first time to go to Bogota.”
"And you visit the Sacred Lake on your way to the
city!"
"My fathers sacrificed here,” she said proudly. “I
am an Indian, the daughter of those who once poured
their treasure into the lake which you have defiled with
stones."
“Sajipona!” called a harsh guttural voice from the
trail that followed the cutting made by the Spaniards
in the mountain's side.
"Si, padre mio,” she answered, slowly descending to
the path upon which Raoul was standing.
In the gathering darkness Raoul saw, just emerging
from the cleft in the rocks, the huge figure of a man,
dressed, as all travelers are in the mountains, in wide
sombrero, capacious ruana, great hair-covered leggings
reaching to the waist, his spurred heels clattering on the


86
THE GILDED MAN
beasts are titlyMoreover expected to
stones as he walked towards them. Two mules followed
closely, the bridle of the foremost held in his hand; be-
hind these came a burro, loaded with mountainous bag-
gage which swayed from side to side as the patient little
animal picked his way along the treacherous path.
“Good evening, senor,” said the man suavely, as if
Raoul were some old acquaintance whom he expected to
meet. “It grows dark quickly. Moreover, it is far to
the city and the beasts are tired. We stop for the night
at La Granja. And you, Senor?"
“My horse is fresh, I will ride to Bogota.”
"A stranger?" queried the man.
"An American.”
“Ah!” Then, as if to atone for his surprise: “Bueno,
in Bogota my house is yours.”
Only the sure-footed mules of the Andes could have
threaded this handsbreadth of a path in safety, and only
a horsewoman of the lithe grace and dexterity of this
daughter of the mountains could have swung herself with
such slight assistance into the high, clumsy saddle as did
this girl addressed as Sajipona.
"Watch your burro, Senor," warned Raoul, viewing
with some anxiety that much encumbered animal waver-
ing disconsolately on the brink of the precipice. “He
will slip into the lake.”
"Eh, Senor!” grunted the man, vaulting heavily to the
back of his mule, at the same time spurring and then
checking him with the reins. “He knows his business,
the canaille! Besides,” he added, chuckling to himself,
"we carry no treasure for Guatavita. Since the days of
Sajipa, men pay no tribute here--they look for it
instead, men pay are for Guarded, chucklin bis


LA REINA DE LOS INDIOS 87
“That is true," murmured Raoul. Then, addressing
the departing travelers: “May you have a pleasant ride,
Senorita! And you, Senor; I may see you in Bogota?"
"In the Calle de Las Flores, Senor," called the other
briskly. “Ask for Rafael Segurra; always remember!
-at your service.”
Sajipa-Sajipona! The two names persisted in
Raoul's thoughts as he rode home that evening. Over
and over again he passed in review the details of his
strange encounter with this mysterious girl who, in spite
of the exquisite fairness of her complexion, called herself
an Indian and claimed these old worshipers of the
Lake God for her ancestors. Who was she? Could it
be that his search for the descendant of that almost
mythical line of monarchs had been so unexpectedly,
completely rewarded? He could hardly wait for the
morning to make the inquiries that he planned.
"Ah, yes," he was assured; "this Rafael Segurra is
quite a man in his way—a 'politico,' strong with the gov-
ernment. He lives far from here—on a hacienda-no
one knows where. And his daughter-he brings her to
Bogota? That is strange! The beautiful Sajipona!
Who knows if she really is Don Rafael's daughter!
There is a mystery, a tradition about her. Yes, some
say that she has in her veins the blood of that poor old
zipa that the Spaniards roasted alive because he wouldn't
tell where he had hidden his treasure. Still, how can
that be if Don Rafael is her father? Ah, no one can
be sure, Senor—their home is so far away. But-she is
very beautiful. And there are many, many lovers--so
they say."


88
THE GILDED MAN
The information, picked up from various sources,
strengthened Raoul's first impression, and from that time,
he became a constant visitor in the little house on the
Calle de Las Flores.


VIII
A RIVER INTERLUDE
N the deck of the wheezy, palpitating river steamer,
“Barcelona,” toiling slowly up the turbid waters
of the Magdalena, sat the usual throng of passengers who
are compelled to sacrifice two weeks of their lives every
time they travel from the seacoast to Colombia's moun-
tain capital. Fortunate such travelers count themselves
if their lumbering, flat-bottomed craft, its huge stern
wheel lifted high above the down-rushing eddies and
whirlpools, escapes the treacherous mudbanks which form
and dissolve in this ever-shifting, shallow current, and
which not infrequently elude the vigilance of the navi-
gator.
On this particular voyage, however, it is pleasant to
record that the “Barcelona,” in spite of various tempta-
tions to the contrary, had behaved in a most decorous
manner, diplomatically avoiding the aforesaid mudbanks,
submerged treetrunks and the like and giving promise
of an early arrival at her destination in the Upper Mag-
dalena.
In any part of the world except Colombia the progress
of this steamer up the river on this occasion would have
been followed with the liveliest interest from one end
of the country to the other. News bulletins would have


90
THE GILDED MAN
chronicled every detail of her voyage; there would have
been editorial speculation as to the possible delays she
might encounter; predictions of the outcome of her snail-
paced journey and, finally, statements—bogus or other-
wise would have come every now and then from the
important personage who headed the list of the “Barce-
lona's" passengers. For there was an unhappily impor-
tant personage on board—a personage who, much to his
own amazement, had helped in the making of history,
and who was now on his way to report to the President
of the Republic the details of what he had done.
Some men, according to one familiar with the accidents
common to humanity, have greatness thrust upon them.
General Herran was neither born great, nor had he, of
his own free will, achieved greatness. But it had been
thrust upon him. Without thought or act of his own he
awoke one morning to find himself famous. It was an
unenviable kind of fame, won in an opera-bouffe sort
of way, and might, in some countries, have cost the gen-
eral his head. But in Colombia there was, happily, no
danger of this. Having lost his head once why should
he lose it a second time, and just because he had fallen
a victim to the wiles of the Panamanians?
Here is the brief but important chapter of history in
which General Herran played a leading part. In the
performance of his duty to quell any and every uprising
which might occur on the Colombian coast he had gone
with his army to the Isthmus, where, he had been told,
something like a revolution was in progress. At Colon
he had been courteously met on shipboard by representa-
tives of this revolution. On their friendly invitation,
and without disembarking his troops, he and his staff of


92
THE GILDED MAN
flimsiest of apparel, a wide-flapping Panama sombrero
coming down to his ears, paced restlessly about the deck,
fanning himself vigorously with a huge palm-leaf fan.
Although of pure Spanish lineage, there was nothing of
the traditional polish of his race in this explosive person's
manner or speech. He had rolled about one can hardly
describe his mode of travel by another phrase-among
many people and had recently settled down in a delight-
fully fever-ridden section of Colombia to practice medi-
cine. “Doctor Quinine” he was called—behind his back
-and it is said that he had simplified the methods of his
profession by administering, on all occasions and for all
diseases, the one simple, famous drug, discovered cen-
turies ago by his ancestors in his native Peru. Quinine
and a few drastic purgatives summed up his medical
creed. If these remedies failed to cure—and they some-
times did fail—why, the unfortunate victim was simply
a "canaille," and had, through his own stupidity, or
malice, defeated the otherwise infallible result of the
doctor's treatment.
The quininizing of the human race, however, was not
the mission upon which Dr. Manuel Valiente Miranda
had at present embarked. He had recently made a
journey to the United States, whither he had gone to
take out a patent on some marvelous "pildoras de
quinina” of his own concoction. Having succeeded in the
main object of his trip, and having failed incidentally
to sell a single box of these same patented “pildoras” to
any one of the benighted thousands whose faith was
pinned to the ordinary medical practitioner, he had re-
solved to return to his old occupation of dosing with
quinine the faithful on the Colombian coast. On his


A RIVER INTERLUDE
93
homeward journey, however, he met a party of Americans
who induced him to abandon for a time his original
project and to join them in a trip to Bogota. As he
was a man of independent means, a political exile from
his native land, with no family ties whatsoever, there was
nothing to hinder this sudden change in his plans. Hence
his presence on the “Barcelona," where he had assumed
guardianship over his American friends whom he abused
on occasion, as was his wont with those he liked—and
where he engaged in sarcastic tilts with his old ally “El
General.”
In the political upheaval caused by the secession of
Panama Doctor Miranda took especial delight; nor did
he hesitate to upbraid those in authority for what he
called their lack of gumption in the present situation.
He predicted, moreover, the coming supremacy of "los
Yankees” in South America. In all of this Doctor
Miranda was good naturedly tolerated by his Colombian
friends, who suffered his sarcasm much as they did his
quinine, ignoring the bitterness out of regard for the
curative virtue behind it.
Harold and Una Leighton, David Meudon, Andrew
Parmelee and Mrs. Quayle were the Americans to whom
Doctor Miranda had attached himself on this pilgrimage
to Bogota. It was an oddly assorted party. That the
persons composing it should be voyaging together up the
Magdalena, with an eccentric Peruvian physician as a
sort of cicerone, and in friendly intimacy with a group of
discredited army officers accused of a traitorous aban-
donment of the national cause, formed one of those curi-
ous situations not unusual in South American travel.
The reader has already learned of the decision reached


94
THE GILDED MAN
by Harold Leighton and David to visit Bogota in order
to solve there the mystery of the three months following
the dynamite explosion in the Guatavita tunnel. As her
uncle had foreseen, Una insisted on going with them, and
had brought Mrs. Quayle along besides. There was no
particular reason why that estimable lady should accom-
pany them. She had rarely ventured beyond the borders
of her native Connecticut, and could certainly be of no
possible use on so long and difficult a journey as this.
But something had to be done with her. She was afraid
to be left alone at Stoneleigh, and as she was anxious
about Una it seemed best on the whole to take her along.
She proved an inoffensive traveler and gave amusement
to more than one tourist by her extraordinary costumes,
especially the massive, old-fashioned jewelry, with which
her hands and neck were covered and from which she
refused ever to be parted.
The trip was a hard one for Leighton, who was
wedded to his quiet methodical life in Rysdale, and who
had no mind for the distractions and annoyances of for-
eign travel. He was spurred to activity, however, by his
interest in the psychological puzzle presented by David,
added to which was a growing curiosity regarding the
mysterious Indian lake and its reputed treasure. An
ordinary mining scheme, no matter how promising, would
not have moved the philosophic master of Stoneleigh.
But here was something out of which might come a fine
scientific discovery revealing the secrets of a bygone
civilization. Hence, he had not regretted his resolution
to make this quixotic pilgrimage and, as he had latterly
fallen into a sort of dependence on Andrew Parmelee for
much of the detail work connected with his scientific


A RIVER INTERLUDE
95
studies, he had arranged with the village authorities for
the schoolmaster to accompany him to Colombia.
Andrew was not a little alarmed at the intimate daily
association with Una, the object of his adoration, which
such a journey involved. But the fancied terrors of the
situation had their compensations. It might even happen
that in the primitive region to which they were going he
could be of vital service to this stony-hearted fair one-
a posssibility that filled him with dreams of deadly peril
by land and sea in which he acted the part of res-
cuer to helpless innocence. So, this modern knight
errant was miraculously strengthened to ward off the
attacks of his Aunt Hepzibah, and departed on his mis-
sion fired with all the zeal of the hero of La Mancha,
his high resolve unclouded by the horrors that speedily
came to him in the rotund nightmare known in the flesh
as Doctor Miranda.
"Ah, this little Yankee,” repeatedly declared that rest-
less follower of Aesculapius, regarding the bewildered
Andrew with professional glee; "he must take my pills
or he will die!”
Then, Andrew, helplessly declaring that he never felt
better in his life, would be seized by the merciless doctor,
his eyelids forced apart until the whites of the eyes were
fully exposed to whoever cared to inspect them, while a
triumphant announcement marked the success of the dis-
mal exhibit: "See! it is all yellow! This leetle fellow
have the malaria, the calentura. And he refuse to take
my pills—the estupido!”.
But if Andrew was disturbed by these alarming out-
breaks of the doctor, his companions enjoyed to the full
that mental and physical relaxation experienced by many


96
THE GILDED MAN
only in the tropics. An endless panorama of primeval
forest, broken at intervals by clusters of wattled Indian
huts, known as villages, with high-sounding names, to the
Magdalena boatmen, gave to the long river journey the
pleasant surprises of some half remembered dream.
There was the charm of the familiar as well as the pic-
turesque in the drowsy air, the swift oily flow of turbid
waters, the flashing green, gold and scarlet of the riotous
shore. Merely to feel, if only for a day, the changing
moods of this tropical nature, more than repaid, one felt,
all the hardships and weariness of primitive travel.
For Una and David all this formed a memorable inter-
lude in their mutual experiences. Even the complex mis-
sion upon which the girl had entered was forgotten in
the novelty of the world to which chance had brought
her. The scenic splendor of the river exceeded anything
she had imagined. She was fascinated by the wide sweep
of water, the foliage, the glorious passion-flowers that
embroidered, here and there, the thick mantle of green
vines and swaying lianas that bound the treetops to the
river beneath; by the flocks of parrots, glistening like
living emeralds in the sun-bathed air, chattering their
language of wild happiness as they flew from branch to
branch on the silent shore. Never had she beheld such
serene, graceful creatures as the swans—she took them
for swans, although Leighton chuckled grimly when ap-
pealed to on the subject-great, long-necked birds, wheel-
ing and soaring far above the steamer, clouds of shim-
mering white in a sea of purest sapphire. White, too
with head and neck a brilliant scarlet, was the stately
King of the Vultures, surrounded by a fluttering throng
of dusky followers, dining on a dead alligator.


A RIVER INTERLUDE
97
“See, Senorita!” exclaimed Miranda, pointing to a
bowerlike opening amid the bushes and trees on the shore.
“Ah, he is one bad fellow, that canaille!”
"I see nothing. Oh, yes—another dead alligator!”
"Dead!” laughed the doctor. "He is just one trap.
Soon he come together—50!-and catch his dinner.”
It was a familiar scene on this river of the tropics: an
alligator lying motionless on the shore, his yellow, mot-
tled jaws open, waiting for his prey. In form ard color
he seemed a part of the dead branches and tangle of
brushwood he had chosen for his resting place. Once
recognized, however, and the malignant creature became
a vivid symbol of the ruthless death with which he threat-
ened whoever mistook his yawning mouth for a rift in a
fallen tree-trunk.
“What a monster!” exclaimed David, roused from his
daylong dreams.
"Estupido!” retorted Miranda. "He wait for his din-
ner—as you and that is all. The so cruel alligator,
you know, is good mother for the young ones. She love
them better than some womens.”
“That hideous brute!”
“Si, Senor!” declared the doctor. "So soon that they
hatch themselves, she carry the young ones in the mouth
and teach them to hunt. She fight for them and die, if
it be so."
Miranda's vague natural history was of the kind de-
rived from wonder-loving natives. It blended well with
the Magdalena's scenic marvels, the wild animal life,
glimpses of which were caught at every hand, the dark-
skinned natives in their rude dugouts—all that set this
apart as a sort of primeval world far removed from any


98
THE GILDED MAN
hint of the modern. But the skepticism of the scientist
was proof against idle tales.
"I am not sure that your theory of the alligator is cor-
rect, Senor Doctor,” remarked Leighton dryly.
“Ah, carai!” spluttered Miranda, wheeling about, ever
ready for the fray.
"What you say about the care of the female alligator
for her young may be true enough,” said the savant,
ignoring the scowl with which he was regarded; "but
that the brute over there in the bushes is holding his
mouth open by the hour in that ridiculous fashion,
hoping that something may walk into it, is unreason-
able.”
“Then, what for she do it?" demanded the doctor
severely.
"I can't tell you that,” admitted Leighton, adding,
with a touch of humor, “perhaps he finds it comfortable
on a hot day like this to get as much air as he can. Of
course, I have no doubt that he would close his mouth
quickly enough if any creature walked into it.”
"I agree with Mr. Leighton," ventured the school-
master.
“Ah!” sniffed the doctor scornfully. “And you,
Senorita?”
“Why,” said Una doubtfully, enjoying the doctor's
wrath, "he certainly does look hungry, doesn't he? I
wouldn't trust him—although he seems to be asleep.”
"And you, Senor?" glaring at David.
“Oh, I'm not a naturalist,” he laughed. “But, he
looks like a pretty good sort of trap, just the same.”
“Bueno, General, what sayest thou?” asked the doc-


A RIVER INTERLUDE
99
tor somewhat mollified. “What is that cayman doing
there under the trees?”.
General Herran gazed meditatively at the monster who
was unconsciously causing this pother in natural history,
and his eyes had a reminiscent twinkle as he answered
the question:
"That cayman with his mouth open is like the Yankee
waiting for Colombia to walk in."
“And you walked in!” shouted Miranda delightedly.
“Well, I walked out again," said the other com-
placently.
“But you left Panama inside the mouth!”
“Have your joke, Senor Doctor,” said Herran, not
relishing the broad allusion to his discomfiture. “But
perhaps your American friends here will find a cayman in
the bushes. Why do they go to Bogota just now?”
“They are friends to you. With you it is all right.”
“I hear that the peons are rising against the Yankees.”
“The canaille! They can do nothing."
“Besides,” pursued the general, "excellent and harm-
less as this learned Senor and his family are, I can hardly
appear, under all the circumstances, as protector and
champion of a party of Americans.”
General Herran spoke in so rapid an undertone that
only one to whom Spanish is the native tongue could
have followed him. But Leighton's keen intelligence,
although he was not well versed in Spanish idioms, was
quick to catch at least an inkling of what was passing
between his two companions.
“There is danger for Americans traveling in the in-
terior?” he asked.
“I not say so," replied the doctor stoutly.
100255


100
THE GILDED MAN
Herran tugged at the tangles of his bushy beard. “I
hear that some peons have left Bogota to fight the
Yankees on the coast,” he said. “But-it is nothing."
“Well, what shall we do?”.
The general shrugged his shoulders. Miranda fanned
himself more vigorously than ever.
"It is not important, Senor," he said impatiently.
“These people are good peoples; they are not caymans.”
"Perhaps it is better to wait before you go to Bogota,"
persisted Herran.
“Wait in the river?” angrily demanded the doctor.
"I don't believe there is any danger. I love this
country,” said Una. "Let's go to Bogota, Uncle
Harold.”
"Heavens, child!” exclaimed Mrs. Quayle tremulously,
the heavy gold rings that adorned her fingers clicking
together in dismay. “With all these savage, half-dressed
natives about, threatening the lives of innocent Ameri-
cans—and poor Mr. Parmelee down with this terrible
fever- "
"I am not,” feebly protested Andrew.
“Yes, that is so!” exclaimed the doctor, a joyous grin
wrinkling his face. "The vieja (old lady) speak right.
We stay at Honda and give this little fellow my pills.”
“There is sense in your plan,” declared Leighton. "If
we can be comfortable—and safeat Honda, we will
stay until we know what is happening away from the
river, and until Mr. Parmelee regains his health under
your treatment.”
"My dear Mr. Leighton, I assure you, " began
the schoolmaster piteously.
"Don't be an estolido!” interrupted Miranda brusk-


A RIVER INTERLUDE
101
ly. "Soon you will be all right with my pills. This
little vieja, she know-she is very wise.”
Mrs. Quayle's gray ringlets bobbed deprecatingly at
this generous tribute to a hitherto unsuspected sagacity
on the part of their modest owner, while Andrew looked
more uncomfortable and woebegone than ever.
“Doctor, you are sure that Mr. Parmelee has this
miserable fever?” inquired Una anxiously.
"Senorita,” declared the little man, drawing himself
up impressively, "I never mistake. I have been doctor
when thousand and thousand die of the calentura— "
“Good heavens! Poor, dear Mr. Parmelee!” mur-
mured Mrs. Quayle.
"And I know," continued Miranda, ignoring the in-
terruption. “I say he have the calentura, the malaria.
You will see in the eyes I will show to you."
Andrew, prepared for what was coming, eluded his
medical tormentor, seeking safety behind the chair of
the portly Leighton.
“Carambal que estupido!" growled the doctor, balked
of his prey. “Bueno," he added, fanning himself re-
signedly, "we shall see. In Honda you take my pills.
Soon we will be there. And then it is good that everyone
take my pills. I am friend to you. I will take the care,
I charge nothing for the family.”
"I'll not stay in Honda," said David, breaking the
silence following this wholesale offer of assistance. “I
must get to Bogota as quickly as possible. Once there
I can let you know if it's safe to travel into the interior.”
"A good idea," assented Leighton.
"If it's dangerous for us, it's dangerous for you,"
objected Una.


102
THE GILDED MAN
"Oh, I'll take a burro loaded with the doctor's pills
along with me,” said David. "I know the country. I
have friends in Bogota; there is no danger. And I leave
you in good hands.”
“So, that is settle,” remarked Miranda complacently.
"Very good! I take care to your families. But-you
will beware, my young fellow.”
"I tell you I'll have a burro load of your pills, doc-
tor!”
“That is good. You are not estupido, like this leetle
fellow with the malaria! Remember, these people are
no friend just now to the Yankee.”
“Everyone knows me here; I have no enemies," was
the confident reply.
Honda, the picturesque little river-port whence the
traveler from the coast sets out on muleback for his
three days' journey up the mountains to Bogota, was
reached on the following day, after a twenty-five mile
trip by rail from La Dorada, the terminus of the Mag-
dalena steamers. Charming as Honda is architecturally,
its quaint red-tiled houses nestling against a background
of radiantly green foothills over which the winding trails
leading to the far distant capital are scarcely ever with-
out their ascending or descending trains of jostling
mules and burros, the place has something of a bad
name among foreigners for its fevers. Whether or not
its reputation in this respect is deserved would be hard
to say. For the traveler, certainly, who has been con-
fined for ten days to the rude quarters provided by a
river steamer, the little town comes as a welcome respite
in a long if not uninteresting journey. Here, for the first
time, he tastes the freedom and glamour of the Andes;


A RIVER INTERLUDE
103
and in the movement and bustle incident to setting out
on the arduous pull over the primitive passes that thread
their way across the mountains, there is the stimulus
that comes with the promise of adventure and discovery.
Honda, with its radiant sunshine, its tilted streets, its
cool white buildings and low rambling hostelries hidden
under a veil of flashing greenery, its sparkling little
mountain stream tumbling beneath a venerable bridge
that savors of the days of Spanish conquest and romance,
is the link of emerald between the mighty river of the
tropics and the vast highlands that stretch upward to
the region of perpetual snow. As an emerald it lives
ever after in the traveler's memory.
In this village—it is hardly more than that,oriental
in its sensuous beauty, American of a century or two
ago in character and outward aspect, the "Barcelona's”
passengers were content to stay for a time. Una's de-
light in the picturesque little settlement was marred by
the impending separation from David. It was not merely
his absence that caused her unhappiness; she worried
over the dangers that she believed awaited him in Bogota.
Her anxiety was increased by the rumor, reaching the
travelers on their arrival at La Dorado, that war had
been declared between the United States and Colombia.
There was no truth in this rumor; it was without official
confirmation, and ridiculed alike by Doctor Miranda,
David and Leighton. But it was credited by most of
the natives, whose belief was stoutly upheld by the prin-
cipal American resident of Honda, an amiable patriarch
who had once acted as his government's representative
and was known throughout the republic. True or false,


104
THE GILDED MAN
the rumor did not add to the comfort of the travelers,
and intensified Una's desire to keep David with the rest
of the party until they could all set out together for
Bogota.


IX
ON INDIAN TRAILS
OCTOR MIRANDA was right about Andrew. By
the time he had finished moving his party and their
luggage from the stifling railroad shed to the cool court-
yard of Honda's principal inn, the schoolmaster had been
beaten in his last feeble fight for liberty and had become
the victim to an unlimited amount of quininizing. No
need now to force his eyelids apart to reveal the telltale
yellow within. Even a tyro in such matters could see
from his jaundiced appearance, his quick breathing, his
general inertia, that he was in the first stages of an attack
of fever. This being beyond dispute, the little doctor
dropped his fighting humor for one of bustling activity,
beneath which there lurked a rough sort of tenderness
for his unhappy patient. A bed, a pitcher of "lemon
squash,” and a box of the famous "pildoras,” were quickly
provided by dint of much storming at the indolent hotel
servants and angry prodding of the astonished proprietor.
When all his arrangements were perfected, Andrew com-
pletely in his power and stuffed as full as might be with
quinine, the triumphant Miranda rejoined his friends, his
rubicund features beaming with satisfaction.
"No! No! my lady," he answered Una's anxious in-
quiries, “there is no danger. That leetle fellow has my
105


106
THE GILDED MAN
pills and plenty of squash. He cannot die. Soon he will
be well. You will see. I am doctor to him.”
His assurances had their effect, although they failed to
convince the despondent Mrs. Quayle, who shook her
head dolefully, rocking herself back and forth in her
chair and bewailing the sad fate that was awaiting
"poor dear Mr. Parmelee in this desolate country.” At
all of which the irascible doctor scowled ominously, tak-
ing her complaint as a reflection on his medical skill.
Leighton, however, faced the situation in a matter of fact
way, while David set about the necessary preparations
for his journey to Bogota. An excellent opportunity
offered that very day to join General Herran's party in
the trip over the mountains.
A train of twenty mules and burros was needed for
the expedition, and to procure these and load them with
the necessary baggage, called for no small amount of
work and skillful management. The stone courtyard of
the inn ang with the shouts of burro drivers, the quar-
relssovinsons intent on selling their wares to travelers at
i best pices, and the threats and commands of General
Terran and his officers. Above this din, apparently neces-
wary on such occasions, one could hear the strident voice
of Doctor Miranda, browbeating some luckless vendor
of merchandise, or ridiculing the exertions of those who
would bestow a maximum of baggage on a minimum of
burro. In spite of the confusion, however, everything
moved along in as orderly and expeditious a manner as
is possible with these ancient methods of travel. By
midday the last load was adjusted, the twenty animals
forming the cavalcade stood strapped and ready for the
start.


ON INDIAN TRAILS
107
Hot, stifling was the air in the courtyard; the cobbled
pavement of the street outside fairly baked beneath the
relentless sun. Most of the shops and tiendas were closed
for the noon siesta, and only a few listless stragglers ven-
tured beyond the cool white portals of the houses. It
was not a happy hour in which to commence a difficult
journey; but General Herran, marvelously energetic for
once, had planned to cover a certain distance before
nightfall. So, without more ado, the “bestias” were mar-
shaled, single file, and driven out, with much shouting
and laying on of goads, into the street, where they stood
patiently waiting for the eight travelers whom they were
to carry to Bogota.
"We are off at last!” announced David, entering the
salon where Leighton, Una, Mrs. Quayle and Miranda
awaited the caravan's departure. "In less than a week
you'll hear from me. By that time, I hope, you'll be
ready for Bogota.”
“I can never go on one of those vicious animals,"
sighed Mrs. Quayle, her bejeweled fingers ner usly
clutching the arms of the chair.
“Vicious!” exclaimed David. “They are harmless an
kittens.”
As if in denial of the comparison, one of the burros
standing near the doorway stiffened out his forefeet and
brayed with all the vehemence of which burro lungs are
capable. He was followed by his comrades in misery-
a full chorus of brays from which no discordant note
was missing. Had it been the traditional bellowing of
a herd of bulls—it was noisy enough for that—the timid
lady could not have been more alarmed, nor the doctor
more delighted.


108
THE GILDED MAN
“Bravo!” he shouted. “They want you, my Senora.
They wait for you."
“Good-bye!” said David, clasping Una's hand.
“Good-bye!” she said, almost inaudibly.
"Doctor, look out for them," he called to Miranda.
"Be sure! Be sure!” was the response, a glint of sym-
pathy ligting his eyes. "Have a care to you. I have
that leetle fellow in bed. He is full of lemona squash
and my pills. Soon his calentura is kill."
“Well, don't kill him too!”
“Ah, canaille!"
The members of General Herran's party had already
mounted and were slowly disappearing down the bend of
the street, pack-mules and burros in the lead. The gen-
eral himself, on a pinched-up, piebald horse that, like
Hamlet's cloud, bore a comical resemblance to a camel,
lingered behind for his guest. David's bay, lacking in
zoological vagaries, pranced spiritedly to begone as soon
as it felt its rider in the saddle.
"That is one good animal," commented Miranda.
“The other needs your pills,” remarked Leighton sol-
emnly.
With a laugh and a hearty "adios!" the two horsemen
saluted the group in the doorway and galloped off after
their companions. Una watched, motionless, long after
David was out of sight. She had done her best to pre-
vent his going, but all her efforts had been useless. Nor
could she explain, even to herself, why it was that she so
dreaded his leaving their party to travel alone with Her-
ran. There was nothing logical in the feeling, of course,
and she had to confess that for once she was influenced
by an utterly unreasonable fear, a sort of superstition.


ON INDIAN TRAILS
109
The journey from Honda to Bogota is a scramble over
precipitous trails worn into the living rock by centuries
of travel, through wastes of traffic-beaten mire, along
glades of dew-soaked herbage that gleam refreshingly
under cloudless skies in a wilderness of impenetrable
forest. No other city of like size and importance has
so rude and picturesque an approach, nor are there many
that keep their commerce along ways and by methods so
unmodern. The stranger, ignorant of the simplicities
of South American life, whether in town or country, is
bewildered by the oddities and hardships in a trip of this
kind. But David had traveled more than once over the
Bogota trail, and for him it had lost its novelty, especially
as his sole aim on the present occasion was to reach his
destination as quickly as possible. Herran had a similar
feeling; hence, as the day was not unpleasantly warm,
once they had passed beyond the lowlands of Honda both
men urged their horses on to top speed. In a short time
they had left the rest of the party far behind them, and
broke into a race over the rough mountain trail. Tiring
of this, they dropped back to a more sober gait, letting
their horses choose their own way for a time.
"I telegraphed from Honda that we were coming,"
said Herran in Spanish. “They are looking for us now
in Bogota.”
"Did you say that I was with you?" asked David.
“Surely. As an officer it is my duty to give complete
information," was the somewhat pompous reply. "I gave
the names of all who are in your party and told why they
stayed in Honda.”
“Why so much detail about us? My friends and I are


IIO
THE GILDED MAN
not connected with the military movements of the
country.”
"That may be true, Senor. But you travel with me
and—I am ignorant of your business, you know."
“We travel partly for pleasure, partly-I am interested
in a Guatavita mining venture.”
"So! Will they know that when they see your name
in the Bogota papers?”.
“My friend that I am going to visit will know, of
course. I wrote to him that I was coming. Why do
you ask?”
“Ah! Just now, it may be, my countrymen will not
like American mining ventures or Americans.”
“Then, Americans are in danger?”
“How can I say, Senor?” he answered with a shrug.
"I have lost Panama, they say. I, too, have enemies.
Perhaps I am in danger. But you have a friend in Bo-
gota? He is— p
"An American; Raoul Arthur.”
"I have heard of him.”
“He is well liked here."
“That is good," commented Herran drily.
For the first time since he had been in Colombia David
felt uneasy as to the possible outcome of his trip. His
friends, in reach of the river steamers, could leave the
country at the first sign of real danger. But every mile
placed between himself and the Magdalena lessened his
chances for escape—and that he might need to get out
of Colombia in a hurry was evident from Herran's atti-
tude, his reserve, his ambiguous answers to David's
questions. All this was not exactly through a lack of
friendliness on the general's part. David knew Herran


II2
THE GILDED MAN
"Fire the first shot, my friend, and I will come after
with a long one for your Guatavita mine."
In the act of carrying out this pleasant suggestion, the
attention of David and Herran was suddenly caught by
a babel of voices—shouts of command, the tramp of
many feet-coming from the Bogota end of the trail.
Interruptions of this kind are more serious than they
may seem to those unfamiliar with Colombian mountain
travel. So rough and narrow is the road to Bogota, with
sometimes a precipice on one hand and a sheer wall of
rock on the other, that the problem of two parties passing
each other is not always an easy one. Although this
is the chief thoroughfare between the national capital and
the Magdalena, it remains quite as primitive and un-
adapted to modern needs as in the days of the Indians.
To widen and pave it proved more of a task in road-
building than the Spanish conquerors cared to under-
take; and their successors in the government of the
country have, until now, attempted little in the way of
improvement. Thus, travelers from the lowlands over
this Indian trail frequently have to fight for a passage
through a descending rabble of men and burros, or else
allow themselves to be crowded off into a tangle of
underbrush on one side or thrown down a steep cliff
on the other.
As it happened, the spot chosen by General Herran and
David for their friendly salute was a particularly awk-
ward one in an encounter with a lot of travelers coming
from the opposite direction. In front of them the trail
rose abruptly in a long zigzag of rocks and gullies, down
which the caravan from Bogota, the noise of whose ap-
proach grew rapidly more distinct, was bound to descend


ON INDIAN TRAILS
113
upon them. Their only chance to escape was either
through a morass, covered with a dense forest growth,
or else up a hazardous mountain side, strewn with boul-
ders and loose stones. Of course, they might retrace
their steps until they found a more open space; but this
seemed too much like retreating from an enemy and did
not recommend itself to either of the horsemen.
"It sounds like a regiment of soldiers,” said David,
taking another long draught from the Falstaffian "pistol”
and returning it to Herran.
"Perhaps,” replied the General, indifferent to outside
matters until he had finished his part of the prescribed
ceremony. "And here we are,” he added, with a sigh
of contentment, “saluting Panama and an American com-
pany, with an army of volunteers, bent on licking the
Yankees, coming down upon us.”
“Are you sure?"
“Caramba! In Honda they said these volunteers
started from Bogota three days ago. They are due here
now."
“We must meet them,” said David, upon whom the
General's "pistol” had not failed to score.
"Wait a moment! As Miranda would say, these peons
are canaille and—there is no room for a meeting.”
Both men laughed. Nevertheless, in spite of the humor
of the situation, it had more than the usual peril incident
to travel on the Bogota trail to be comfortable.
“Two men against a regiment!” chuckled Herran.
"But they are not after us,” argued David.
“They are after the Yankees—and you are a Yankee.
Well, Senor, what shall we do?”
“You are in command, Senor General.”


114 . THE GILDED MAN
“Caramba! Then, let us march! We can't jump
down those rocks, the swamp is even worse—and we
won't retreat before a lot of peons. Forward, Senor!
We can at least use pistols if we need to!”
With which comforting assurance Herran handed one
of his case bottles to David. This the latter retained,
first joining his comrade in a final “salute," declaring
all the while that this kind of exercise had been unknown
to him for years—a statement received by General Her-
ran with the skepticism it deserved. The two horses
were then brought into line and, with touch of whip and
spur, commenced a scramble up the trail, at the top of
which the front ranks of the peons were just visible.
As Herran had predicted, the travelers with whom they
had to contest the right of way belonged to one of the
volunteer regiments of Bogota peons bound for the Isth-
mus. At their head rode Pedro, “El Rey,” more dilap-
idated as to costume but more joyous of mood than on
that memorable morning when he led his forces down the
Calle de Las Montanas to be reviewed by the President
of the Republic. He had parted with his blacking box
and in place of it, hanging from his neck, was a rusty
old sword that clanked dismally on the scarred and bat-
tered ribs of the solemn burro upon which he was
mounted. Burros, as a rule, are patient animals, taking
whatever comes, whether insult, ridicule, or cajolery, with
unruffled temper, and this particular specimen of the
long-suffering race evinced supreme indifference to the
military honors that sat so weightily upon him. Pedro,
however, was not unmindful of the distinctions he had
won. Immediately behind him, borne by two of his
trustiest lieutenants, floated the flag of the republic, its


ON INDIAN TRAILS
115
red and yellow folds somewhat faded and dusty from the
three days' march, and flapping now in anything but de-
fiant fashion. But it formed a good background to the
enthusiasm of leadership that marked the bearing and
illuminated the grimy features of Bogota's ex-bootblack
and, doubtless, helped keep up the courage and patriotism
of his followers. The latter marched, for the most part,
on foot and in such straggling lines as best suited them.
When it first set out from Bogota the regiment had kept
some sort of military order, but this had long since been
abandoned, and the host of men and boys, some thousand
in number, jostled each other and choked up the narrow
trail in glorious confusion.
Having reached the top of the hill overlooking the
sheltered ledge chosen by David and Herran for their
impromptu celebration, the volunteers kept right on. Led
by Pedro and his two banner-bearers, they plunged down
the steep, winding trail, crowding upon each other, shout-
ing and laughing, filling the narrow space with most
unmilitary disorder. In the meantime the two horsemen
tried their best to reach a point as near as possible to
the top of the trail before the volunteers began the de-
scent. In this they failed, and the inevitable collision
with the front ranks of the peons took place half way
up the hillside. Here they met Pedro and his immediate
followers, behind whom pressed, with increasing energy,
the whole rabble of peons. But the dejected burro, whose
duty it was to carry the leader of these ragged cohorts
to victory, refused to be hurried by those behind him.
The more he was urged the greater was his deliberation
in picking his way among the treacherous stones covering
the trail. Thumps and blows failed to arouse his enthu-


116
THE GILDED MAN
siasm, and with every fresh difficulty presented by rock
or sudden dip in the pathway, he stopped to take a care-
ful survey of the surrounding obstacles before proceeding
with his journey. Memories of past disaster had taught
him the value of caution that a younger, less experienced
burro might have failed to observe. But the horses of
David and Herran, although ancient enough, were not
afflicted with recollections of former mishaps, and so
plunged into the ranks of the peons without regard for
consequences.
"Hug the side of the road,” cautioned Herran in a low
voice. “I'll take the middle and try to distract the atten-
tion of these people from you."
"Salute, Senor!” cried Pedro, attempting as courteous
a greeting as his burro would allow. “What news from
Panama?"
Not to be outdone in courtesy, Herran pulled back his
horse from the folds of the flag into which he was patri-
otically heading, and offered his "pistol” to “El Rey."
"Ah!” exclaimed Pedro, his eyes fairly snapping with
astonishment; “it is General Herran! Bueno, Senor Gen-
eral, we go to bring Panama back to Colombia.”
"That is well,” replied the other, diplomatically ignor-
ing the implied reproach; "with such brave men you will
surely succeed, Senor Capitan.”
“And the Yankees?” queried Pedro, smacking his lips
after a long draught from the General's bottle.
"Doubtless you will find them in Panama.”
The news that this was General Herran, the man whom
Panama had made famous, spread like wildfire among the
volunteers, who crowded together excitedly, bent on hear-
ing the latest bulletin from the land they were pledged to


ON INDIAN TRAILS
117
recapture. Shouts of amazement, indignation, derision
echoed along the trail-expressions of hostility that might
have appalled one less cool than Herran. But he pre-
tended not to notice these demonstrations, and devoted
himself to Pedro, who, he perceived, was moved by his
flattery.
"It's a bad business, Senor Capitan,” he assured him
confidentially. “But the country is safe with such brave
volunteers to defend it."
"And you, Senor General, you fight with us?”
"It will be an honor," graciously replied the hero of
Panama. “But first I must see His Excellency, the
President, in Bogota. I will tell him how you are hur-
rying to the rescue of the Isthmus.”
“Where are your soldiers?”.
“Some of them you will meet on the way to Honda.”
“An officer was with you just now. Where is he?”.
In the throng of volunteers surrounding them it was
impossible to distinguish David, who had doubtless seized
the opportunity created by the sudden recognition of Her-
ran to force his way up the side of the trail as the General
had suggested.
“Caramba!” exclaimed Herran. "He has gone on
ahead. He knows the President awaits us and the des-
patches of great importance to the republic that we bring
him. I must hurry. Pardon, Senor Capitan, if I am
forced to leave you so quickly. Perhaps we meet soon
again in Panama.”
With a fine show of deference, Herran saluted the King
of the Bootblacks, whose eyes sparkled proudly at this
recognition of his rank from a brother officer, and who
signified his appreciation of the tribute by a wave of the


118
THE GILDED MAN
hand to his followers and a command to them not to delay
the General.
“Senores!” he shouted, “make way for the great Senor.
General! He comes for the Republic. After he has seen
Don Jose, he will go with us to bring back Panama.”
The order was given with all the flourish that had won
renown for Pedro as a polisher of boots and was received
by the volunteers with their wonted cheerfulness and
enthusiasm. Unfortunately, the burro who had the honor
of carrying "El Rey” was so unappreciative of his rider's
eloquence that he allowed himself to be jostled into too
close proximity with the bearers of the flag. He then
became so hopelessly entangled in his country's colors
that, uttering a dismal bray, he was tumbled headlong
down the slippery hill, dragging the amazed and pro-
testing Pedro with him.
Profiting by this accident, General Herran spurred his
own horse through the ranks of the volunteers, gaining
at last, after much energetic pushing and shoving, the
top of the hill. Here he paused to look back, with an
inward chuckle, at the excited throng of men and boys
from whom he had escaped, and to pick up again his
fellow traveler, David. But David was nowhere to be
seen. Herran expected to find him on the level space
at the top of the hill; that he was not there filled him
with anxiety. Reasoning, however, that if the volunteers
had attacked David he would have heard of it, and con-
vinced that the American was not with the mob he had
just left, he set spurs to his horse, expecting to find him
further on. After all, he argued, it was natural that a
Yankee, traveling alone, should put as great a distance
as possible between himself and these volunteers. But,


ON INDIAN TRAILS
119
whatever the explanation, David was not to be found.
There were no cross trails from the main Bogota road
into which he might have blundered, and his disappear-
ance, therefore, became more of a puzzle as Herran trav-
eled mile after mile, at the best speed of which his horse
was capable, without trace of him.
In a way General Herran felt responsible for the safety
of the man with whom he had been traveling, the more
so that this man was a foreigner, belonging to a nation
whose citizens were not welcome just then in Colombia.
Had David been other than an American, Herran would
have taken his disappearance, puzzling though it was,
with the cheerful indifference peculiar to him. But the
fact that he was an American, alone in a hostile country,
appealed to a chivalrous strain in his nature, urging him
to do the best he could for his rescue. Unfortunately,
the solving of the simplest of problems was not in the
General's line, and he painfully turned the matter over
and over without result, one way or the other. David,
he told himself, had forced his way through the ranks of
the volunteers without attracting attention. He felt sure
of this because he had watched his ascent of the trail for
a good part of the way. Hence, he could not be with
the volunteers now. Only a few of the latter were
mounted, and these marched in the front ranks where
they had been carefully noted by Herran. If David had
remained in the rear ranks of the regiment, voluntarily
or as a captive, his horse would have made him conspic-
uous. Of course, during the commotion following the
accident to Pedro and his burro almost anything might
have happened; David might have been captured, bound
and gagged, his horse taken away and he himself bidden


ON INDIAN TRAILS
121
“A foreigner passed here to-day on a bay horse?”
“No, Senor."
“Caramba, hombre! Have you ever seen a foreigner
here?”
“No—yes, Senor.”
“To-day?"
“No, Senor.”
Exasperated by what he considered the stupidity of the
landlord, Herran addressed, in a loud voice, the various
guests who were preparing to pass the night on such im-
provised beds as they could get for themselves.
“Senores, I am looking for a young man, a foreigner,
a Yankee, who is riding to Bogota on a bay horse. He
must be here. Have you seen him?”.
There was a confused murmur. A number of the men
sat up on their mats and repeated energetically the land-
lord's negative. Others grumblingly denounced all Yan-
kees as robbers and disturbers of the country's peace.
One young man, dressed in the uniform of an army offi-
cer, recognizing Herran's rank, politely offered to share
his mat with him, suggesting, at the same time, that he
could pursue his search to much better advantage in the
morning. As further inquiries brought out nothing new,
Herran accepted this officer's hospitality, wearily resign-
ing himself to the conclusion that David had been mys-
teriously spirited away, and was about to be shot by a
lot of insane peons, led on by the ridiculous Pedro.
So it seemed to him as he sank into a nightmare-ridden
sleep.
Morning failed to bring the expected solution of the
General's difficulties. In the bedlam created by burros,
horses, travelers—all trying to make their departure from


122
THE GILDED MAN
the inn at the same early hour, and all finding their
plans delayed by some fault in harness, mislaying of
baggage, or other inconvenience peculiar to a four-footed
conveyance—there was no sign of the missing David. A
number of native merchants on their way from Bogota
to the coast, who had lodged at the inn during the night,
recognized Herran, and although their greetings were cor-
dial, the oldtime friendliness was tempered by the uncer-
tainty with which the average Colombian viewed this
unfortunate officer's part in the so-called Panama revo-
lution. As news of his presence spread among the de-
parting guests, General Herran felt the restraint as well
as the disagreeable curiosity with which he was regarded.
This made his search for David more difficult. Under
the circumstances it was not easy to explain why he, of
all men, was traveling with an American; hence, he was
forced to speak with more reserve than he would have
liked of the young man's disappearance.
As a result of the little that he learned, he was con-
vinced that David had neither reached nor passsed the
inn on the way to Bogota. There remained two alter-
natives. Had his companion been carried along by the
volunteers? Or, had he, by mistake, of course, taken
a side trail from the main road and thus lost himself in
the labyrinth of mountains and forests through which
they were traveling? No one knew of such a side trail.
As for the other possibility, there was nothing to do but
await the coming of his own party of men and officers
whom Herran and David had left shortly after their de-
parture from Honda, and who must have met, in their
turn, the volunteers somewhere on the road. In the


ON INDIAN TRAILS
123
meantime, nothing could be gained from the landlord
of the inn, whose intelligence was at an even lower ebb
in the morning than on the preceding evening. This
good-natured but fatuous boniface found it difficult to
sustain a conversation on the most ordinary topics; and
as a result of his intellectual labors with him, the sociable
Herran was nearing the extremity of misery when his
own party arrived, several hours after the last traveler
had left the inn.
"Ah, yes, Senor General!” groaned Colonel Rodri-
guez, the bustling little officer in charge of the men during
Herran's absence; "we met the volunteers. They wanted
us to go with them to Panama. They waved their flag,
they shouted, they made speeches, they cheered the
fatherland, they cursed the Yankees, they said you would
lead them to the Isthmus. Their little capitan, who
rode on a burro and talked peon very much, said we be-
longed to them, and Colombia depended on us. It was
very terrible. We thought they would never leave us."
"Did you meet the Yankee, Don David, with them?”
asked Herran.
“Don David? But—is he not with you?” they asked
in return.
"I left him when we met those insane volunteers.”
“But, Senor General, they said that a young man-
it must be Don David—went with you."
“Ah, caramba! Then they know nothing?”
“That is all, Senor.”
"Then he is lost, that little fellow. He is not with me,
he is not with those canaille—unless they hide him, or
kill him. No one has seen him; he is lost-or dead."


124
THE GILDED MAN
Having reached this decision, there was nothing fur-
ther to do except march to Bogota and telegraph from
there the news of David's disappearance to his friends in
Honda.


Х
AN OLD MYSTERY
THE vanishing of David Meudon in broad daylight
1 while traveling on one of the main thoroughfares
of the Republic became the sensation of the hour in
Bogota. It excited more interest even than the return
of General Herran and his party from Panama. The
tale of David's disappearance three years before was
revived, and gossip found plenty of material from which
to weave wild romance as to what had happened on
both occasions. But you can't build up a durable ro-
mance without some solid fact to base it on, and since
this whole affair was wrapped in mystery, lacking any-
thing tangible, public interest gradually and inevitably
died out. Among government leaders, however, owing
to the strained relations existing between the United
States and Colombia, there was some anxiety over the
incident.
General Herran, who was related to the President of
the Republic, and who was proved to have had nothing
to do consciously, that is—with the loss of Panama,
declared that the government was responsible for David's
disappearance. He argued that, as the country was not
in a state of war, the marching of volunteer regiments
on the public roads was a menace to foreigners having
125


126
THE GILDED MAN
business in Colombia, and that therefore these regiments
should either be disbanded or else ample protection be
given to all travelers who might encounter them. As it
was too late to look after David—so said the General-
his friends, who were about to set out for Bogota, should ·
at least be guarded from a like fate on the way thither.
Accordingly, as this view of the case was approved, a
company of soldiers was sent to Honda-and thus it
happened that Doctor Miranda, Leighton and his niece,
Mrs. Quayle and the schoolmaster-recovered from his
fever and the Doctor's pills—made the journey under
military escort, arriving in the capital quite like official
personages.
This novel manner of traveling, although it kept off
vagrant militia, had its sinister features for the timid
members of the party. Mrs. Quayle, whose fear of a
burro grew in proportion as she became familiar with that
harmless and necessary animal, believed that she and
her friends had fallen captives, through a skillful bit of
strategy, into the enemy's hands and were being led
either to their death or imprisonment. To this belief
she stuck, in spite of the vehemence and ridicule with
which Doctor Miranda seasoned his arguments against it.
Indeed, had she dared express her full opinion her sus-
picions would have involved the Doctor himself, whose
explosive habits and other eccentricities kept her in a
continual state of alarm that was increased, every now
and then, by his malicious allusions to the jewelry she
wore. Andrew, inclined to attribute his fever to the
famous pills and the heroic treatment to which he had
been subjected, secretly shared her feeling, and was in
hourly dread of some new calamity striking him from the


AN OLD MYSTERY
127
same quarter. Harold Leighton and Una, however, were
too much absorbed in David's mysterious fate to be
greatly concerned by what was going on immediately
around them. The old savant, unable to explain the dis-
aster, was distressed beyond measure by the poignant
grief of his niece. In his own mind he was convinced
that the singular occurrence on the Honda road was re-
lated in some way to David's former disappearance, and
this belief stimulated his professional eagerness to solve
the puzzle presented by so strange a coincidence. Una's
appeal, therefore, to go any length in the rescue of David
needed no urging. It was met with a hearty promise of
aid from Doctor Miranda, who stormed at the govern-
ment, in and out of season, for permitting bands of peons
to endanger the lives of harmless travelers.
The Doctor was especially indignant with Herran, who
called upon the Americans before they were fairly settled
in their hotel in Bogota. He pitched into this hapless
officer with his choicest bits of vituperation, until Herran
began to think that the loss of one man, under certain
circumstances, was as serious an affair as the loss of an
isthmus. Leighton, however, did not share Doctor
Miranda's views of the matter..
"Miranda is unreasonable,” he said to Herran. "There
is a mystery in this case. You have done all you could
to save the young man, and you are now offering to help
us.”
“That is right! That is right!” agreed Miranda. “We
must find him."
“Anything I can do " volunteered Herran.
“Do you know an American in this town by the name
of Raoul Arthur?” interrupted Leighton.
name


128
THE GILDED MAN
“How not! But I don't like him.”
"Never mind. I must see him. If any one can unravel
this thing, he can.”
“Mr. Meudon spoke of him. I will find him for you."
"Do you know where he lives?”
“Surely, Senor. In the Calle Mercedes."
“Take me to him.”
“Very well, Senor,” said Herran, apparently overcom-
ing his reluctance; "that is settled. First, I will be sure
he is there. Then, this night, I take you to his house.”
Una, hearing of this decision, doubted its wisdom.
From the few references David had made to his partner
in the Guatavita mining venture she had felt instinctively
that Raoul was his enemy, an opinion strengthened by
the psychometer test used at Stoneleigh. Leighton had
agreed in this opinion, more or less; hence Una's surprise
that her uncle, who was usually overcautious, should now
turn to Raoul for help.
"I believe the man knows where David is,” he de-
clared.
"If he does, he will never tell you,” remonstrated
Una.
“I am not so sure of that.”
"You may force him to do something fatal," she
urged.
“On the contrary! By going to him at once I will
prevent any foul play—if there is to be any foul play."
The possibility alarmed her. The suspense, the mys-
tery surrounding David seemed more than she could bear.
Bitterly she remembered Leighton's attitude towards him
in Rysdale. And now that their trip to Bogota, insisted
on from the first by her uncle, had ended as it had, her


AN OLD MYSTERY
129
faith in him was sadly shaken. She could not accept his
judgment in a case about which he had already shown so
grave a lack of foresight. Leighton, on his part, realized
Una's distrust of him. He did not try to dispel this feel-
ing; but the knowledge that it was there spurred him on
to do his best and with the least possible delay.
So, that very evening Leighton, piloted by Herran,
sought Raoul Arthur's abode on the Calle Mercedes.
Like most Bogota houses of the humbler sort, this was
a one-storied building, its heavy street door opening
upon a wide brick corridor leading to a central patio from
which the various rooms were reached. Following Colom-
bian custom, the two men entered without announcement
and made their way along the unlighted passage to the
main living room, extending from the patio to the street.
A lamp at the center of a long table heaped with books
and papers distinguished this from the other rooms of
the house, all of which were in darkness and apparently
uninhabited. A man, somewhat past thirty, his hair
slightly grizzled, his features pale and sharpened from
study, sat at the table in this main room reading a much-
worn leather-bound volume, the large black type and
thick, yellowed paper of which gave ample proof of age.
Aroused by the noise made by Leighton and Herran, he
closed his book with a quick, nervous movement and
turned to the doorway where his two visitors stood.
“This is Mr. Raoul Arthur?" asked Leighton grimly.
“Who are you?" demanded the other, his strange, shift-
ing eyes on the massive figure before him.
“My name is Leighton. I am looking for David
Meudon."
· "He is not here,” was the quick reply.


130
THE GILDED MAN
“I hardly expected to find him here," retorted the
savant.
“Then why ask me for him?"
“You were once, if you are not now, Meudon's busi-
ness partner. You must have heard of his disappearance.
On his way from Honda to Bogota he-well, he simply
vanished. That's the only way to describe it. It all
happened, no one knows how, a few days ago. The same
thing took place some years ago when he was living here
with you. You know all about the details of that first
disappearance.”
“You are mistaken," interrupted Raoul. “David
Meudon left me for a number of months. On his return
he failed—or didn't think it worth while-to explain his
absence.”
“That is all very well. Perhaps he could, perhaps he
couldn't explain it. At any rate, you thought that ab-
sence sufficiently peculiar to make it the subject of an
article for the Psychological Journal."
Raoul flinched perceptibly under this statement. His
cool indifference took on the sort of cordiality that repels
one more than open enmity. Bending over the table
before which he was standing, he occupied himself in
elaborately sorting and rearranging some papers at which
he had been working.
"Of course," he said, “I know you now! Mr. Harold
Leighton. I didn't place the name at first, which was
altogether stupid of me. I have often wanted to meet
you. As a matter of fact, I heard of your coming. It's
a rare treat in this out-of-the-way part of the world to
run across a man who has advanced our knowledge of
psychology as you have.”


132
THE GILDED MAN
back again, as if to compare the effect on both of what
was said.
“It's a strange tale, Senor," he commented when Her-
ran had come to the end. “These things with a touch of
mystery in them are always fascinating—until you stum-
ble on the clew. Then it's very simple. I suppose you
have no theory to explain our friend's disappearance?”.
“None, Senor.”
“You have just told me, Mr. Leighton,” he went on,
addressing the latter, “that you are here to add to your
knowledge of psychology.”
“I did.”
“Well, what do you make of it? Here's what you are
looking for—a neat psychological problem right to your
hand.”
“I don't see it,” said the savant impatiently.
“That's always the way with you great scientists!
But—it's simple,” declared Raoul, a note of triumph in
his voice; "absolutely simple if you know David as well
as I do."
"I said that you probably know him better. I have
not known him as long or as intimately as you have.
But—again I fail to see what psychology has to do
with it."
"It has everything to do with it. David was not spir-
ited away, as you seem to imagine. He disappeared of
his own accord.”
“There is every reason to think the contrary,” said
Leighton contemptuously.
“Oh, of course I may be wrong in my theory. But,
as there is no other evidence, I see only one solution.


AN OLD MYSTERY
133
It's the clew we are after, you know—and the clew is
right under your nose."
"Perhaps you are on the wrong scent. Some inves-
tigators have a knack of being cocksure about every-
thing. But-explain your meaning.”
“Very well. Let's talk as one psychologist to an-
other, then. Meudon has a peculiar temperament. You
probably know that. But you may not know that the
dual personality is highly developed in him. Under
strong, sudden excitement this personality becomes
greatly exaggerated.”
"He was laboring under no particular excitement at
the time of his disappearance," objected Leighton.
"What about the mission he was on? I have an idea
that it was of absorbing importance to him. Remember,
he was revisiting scenes connected with an episode that
for some years he has been trying to forget but which
he now wants to revive. And then, to cap the climax,
suddenly he comes, slap bang, right into the midst of a
rabble of peons who would be only too glad to kill him,
or imprison him, or torture him—or anything else un-
pleasant. The same crowd tried to get me once, so I
know what it all means."
“All this is true; but the excitement was hardly enough
to drown David's normal personality.”
"It all helps, though. It predisposes things. It is, as
I look at it, the final stage setting, with all the characters
in their places awaiting the entrance of the villain to
finish up the tragedy. And in this case the villain entered
just at the critical moment. Mr. Leighton,” he asked
abruptly, “have you ever known David to drink a glass
of wine?"


134
THE GILDED MAN
"I can't say that I have,” he answered doubtfully.
"Well, alcoholic stimulus, with certain temperaments
-you know what it does. It starts up an altogether
abnormal psychology, doesn't it?”
“Very apt to."
“Depends a little on the stage setting, doesn't it? But,
even without that it has its odd effects. On rare occa-
sions, for instance, I have known Meudon to take a
single drink of liquor. The result has been similar to
that brought on by hypnotism.”
"Well?”
“There's your clew!” Raoul announced triumphantly.
“You have heard General Herran's story. He tells us
that just before they parted he and David drank several
toasts together—and the toasts, I fancy, were stronger
than mere wine.”
“You think, then- "
“Why, it's childishly simple! David was knocked over
by a force, an influence, to which he is unaccustomed.
He is not at all a drinking man, you understand. Quite
the reverse. With him the effect of drink would not be
in the least like ordinary intoxication. From two former
experiences I know that it would be far subtler. It would
produce what you would call a pseudo-hypnosis, a condi-
tion of abnormal psychology."
“Well?”
“Don't you see what happened?”
“I have not had your experience with David," was the
sarcastic reply.
"It is not a question of mere personal experience,” said
Raoul irritably; "it involves what we know-or guess-
of the eccentricities of the human soul.”


AN OLD MYSTERY
135
“You are an enthusiast. Be more explicit. Don't
wander off in your statements.”
“Very well. I'll put it in the lingo of science as nearly
as I can. It appears to me, then, that David, by this
little exchange of pistol shots, as you call them, with
General Herran, brought into activity a portion of his
brain that had not, for a number of years, intruded it-
self upon his conscious life. It had literally been sleep-
ing all that time. On the last occasion when it was
awake when, in other words, he was under the sway
of this subconscious ego—he was here, amid the very
scenes in which he again finds himself. A moment ago
you connected his first disappearance with the one which
has just taken place on the road from Honda. Well, the
General's 'pistol,' as he calls it, suddenly threw David
back into the memory of that first subconscious experi-
ence.”
“The Ghost of the Forgotten found at last,” mused
Leighton, more to himself than to Raoul.
"Exactly! That's a good way to put it.”
“Suppose your theory correct; what happened after
David's subconscious memory was awakened?”
“As a psychologist, you are better able to answer that
than I.”
"I am not interested in abstruse problems just now.
I am here simply to find David.”
"Difficult, perhaps. I couldn't find him before. But
at least I have given you the clew."
"Your clew doesn't explain. I don't know what to do
with it.”
"A restatement of my theory may clear things up.
Through a combination of certain circumstances, exerting


136
THE GILDED MAN
upon him a peculiar influence, David is living again in
an environment and through a set of experiences that
belong to him only when he is in what we call a condi-
tion of secondary personality. Discover that environment
-the same, I believe, as the one in which he was lost
three years ago and you will discover David.”
Leighton made no comment. He regarded Raoul with
characteristic immobility. One gathered from his silence,
however, that he was impressed with what he had just
heard. Slowly pacing the length of the sala, he stopped
before General Herran, who, through his ignorance of
English, was in a quite helpless state of bewildermen!
at the turn the interview between the two men had
taken.
“This young man will help us find Meudon," said
Leighton in his broken Spanish.
"He knows where he is?” asked Herran eagerly.
“He knows—something,” replied the savant with sig-
nificant emphasis. “For one thing, General, those pistol
shots you had with Meudon seem to have played the
devil.”
“Caramba! Does he say so? But that is foolish-
ness!”
“No, it is theory,” said Leighton drily.
“How will be prove it?”
“By finding Meudon.”
There was a finality in the tone of Leighton's rejoin-
der which, more than the words themselves, indicated the
seeker's conviction that the road to David's discovery
was in plain view. Raoul Arthur, however, said nothing.
Standing aloof from his two visitors, apparently not heed-
ing them, his silence aroused Leighton's curiosity.


AN OLD MYSTERY
137
“Naturally, I depend on you, Arthur,” said the old
man, with an emphasis that sounded like a threat.
"I don't know why,” he demurred. “David was with
your party when this happened. I failed to find him
three years ago, you know.”
“There is no proof that you did anything then to
rescue the man who was your friend and business part-
ner,” retorted Leighton. “This time failure might be
fatal—for you."
The words and Leighton's manner had their effect.
Shaking off his real, or assumed, apathy, Raoul faced his
accuser angrily.
“I have given you the one clew of which I have any
knowledge,” he said, meeting Leighton for the first time
eye to eye. “I have done what I could, I will still do
what I can. But I won't act at the dictation of a man
of whom I know nothing, whom I never even met until
this moment.”
"That's all very well,” replied the other impertur-
bably. "But, as I said, I depend on you—quite nat-
urally, it seems to me to help in the recovery of your
friend. My niece and I are in this country for the
express purpose of solving David's former disappear-
ance.”
“Your niece?"
“Yes; the woman whom David expects to marry.”
Raoul's defiant attitude vanished before this announce-
ment. Irritation gave place to amazement, distrust
turned to friendliness. Nor did he attempt to conceal
his appetite for further news of David's personal affairs.
“David wrote me nothing of this,” he said. “From


138
THE GILDED MAN
his letter I learned that he was coming with friends. He
did not tell me who these friends were.”
“Well, there's every reason why I should be frank
with you—as I expect you to be frank with me.”
“You are still suspicious. What can I do, or say? I
tell you, I don't know where David is."
"Do you know where he was when he disappeared
from Bogota three years ago?”
"No."
“Strange! A man with all your interests at stake in
this puzzle-surely you must have reached some con-
clusion?"
"I tell you, I have not,” he replied sharply. "I know
nothing, absolutely nothing.”
"You admit you have a theory—let's call it that-a
theory that fits the facts so far as you know them?"
“That's your deduction,” sneered the other.
“But, I'm right?"
"Possibly," Raoul answered, turning again to the
papers that littered his writing table.
“That's all I want,” declared Leighton with satisfac-
tion. “Now, we will plan our campaign."
Raoul, engrossed in a large, musty document which
he had spread before him, greeted the proposal with a
shrug of his shoulders. General Herran, impatient at
the apparently futile and—to him—incomprehensible dis-
cussion, consumed innumerable cigarettes, while Leigh-
ton, with the air of one for whom waiting is an enjoy-
ment, settled himself comfortably in a capacious rocking-
chair.
The ensuing silence was rudely broken. There was a
vigorous pounding upon the outer door, followed by


140
THE GILDED MAN
nate layers of Spanish and English. From his account,
however, his hearers were able to put together the main
points of an occurrence that, vehemently vouched for
though it was by the narrator, strained their credulity
to the limit.
Early that morning, it appeared, Doctor Miranda,
accompanied by the reluctant Andrew, had left Bogota
for a visit to Lake Guatavita. The report that David's
disappearance three years before had taken place there
was given as the reason for the trip. Arrived at the
lake, Andrew had declined to accompany the Doctor in
his search among the cliffs that guarded the mysterious
body of water, and had stationed himself near the cut-
ting made centuries before by the Spaniards. This was
a comparatively well sheltered spot and sufficiently re-
moved from the precipitous shore which the cautious
schoolmaster was anxious to avoid. His investigations
concluded after the lapse of something like two hours,
Miranda returned to the old Spanish cutting, expecting
to rejoin Andrew. But Andrew was not there. Surprised
at not finding him, the doctor at first supposed that the
schoolmaster had grown tired of waiting and had jour-
neyed back to Bogota alone. A single circumstance
proved that in this he was wrong. There stood Andrew's
horse where he had originally left him—and it seemed
altogether unlikely that his rider had deliberately set out
to cover the long and arduous miles to Bogota afoot.
“Another puzzle in psychology, I suppose," com-
mented Leighton, with a sarcastic glance at Raoul
Arthur.
The latter, however, in spite of the fact that Andrew
was an utter stranger to him, appeared to be more


AN OLD MYSTERY
141
amazed than the others by Miranda's story, and for the
moment paid no heed to Leighton.
"When you found his horse you made a thorough
search for your friend, of course, Senor?” he asked
Miranda eagerly.
“Caramba! leetle fellow, what you think?” was the
impatient reply. “I look, and I look, and I call—fifty
times I call. If I can swim I jump into the lake to
find him there. But I am too fat. So, I call more times,
and I throw stones, and make the trumpet with the
hands. It is no use. That leetle fellow say nothing.
He is not there. So, I come away after long time.”
"He is drowned, poor fellow,” murmured Herran in
Spanish.
"It is not possible," declared Miranda, turning angrily
upon the general. "What make him drown? Of the
water he is afraid. If he fall in—by mistake-he make
a noise, he call to me. I am close by, I hear-I go to
him quickly. But I hear nothing."
“Well, if he didn't drown, as our friend argues, what
did become of him?" demanded Leighton.
"Ah, Senor,” replied Miranda, his mobile features ex-
pressing hopeless bewilderment, “I do not know. It is
just so as I tell you; he disappear, he vanish, he is gone.
If I know where, I find him—I would not be here."
"So, there are two disappearances to account for,"
summed up Leighton. "Foreigners visiting Bogota seem
to have the trick of vanishing. What do you make of it,
Mr. Arthur?"
"I am as much at a loss as you.”
“Hardly that, I should think. You, at least, know all
about this mysterious lake. You know what happened


142
THE GILDED MAN
there three years ago, for instance. And then you
know "
"You credit me with a great deal more knowledge than
I can lay claim to,” interrupted Raoul. “I never heard
of this man who has been lost, as your excitable friend
tells us, in such a singular manner—this Mr. An-
drew "
“Parmelee," supplied the other. "Andrew Parmelee,
schoolmaster, of Rysdale, Connecticut. He is a very
excellent person who, through his devotion to my niece
and myself, has fallen, I fear, a victim to some strange
plot. You will join us, I have no doubt, in his rescue.
I am ignorant of the psychology of Guatavita. How-
ever, as I have already told you, I am here to add to
my stock of psychological knowledge, and I fancy there
are few who could teach me more, in cases of this kind,
than you."
The sarcasm was not lost on Miranda, who shrugged
his shoulders, muttered some unintelligible Spanish im-
precation and exchanged a comprehending glance with
General Herran. Raoul Arthur, on the other hand,
ignored the tone Leighton had adopted in addressing him.
In his reply he dropped the irritation and suspicion with
which he had first regarded the old savant, and there was
even cordiality in the manner and look accompanying
his somewhat ceremonious acceptance of the task imposed
upon him.
“If I thought it possible of so profound a scholar, Pro-
fessor Leighton,” he laughed, “I would say you were
chaffing me. As it is, I feel the honor in your proposal
that I should join you in solving these mysterious dis-


AN OLD MYSTERY
143
appearances. Perhaps I can be of some help. At any
rate, depend on me for whatever I can do."
"Two Americans unaccountably disappear in the heart
of Colombia," mused Leighton. "If it were not for
certain odd circumstances, I should say the country's
indignation over the loss of Panama had something to
do with it.”
Against this suggestion Miranda impatiently pro-
tested.
"Impossible!” he shouted. “Always these people fight
with the gun, the machete, if they are angry. They
make much noise and talk; never they steal the enemies
of their country and say nothing. It is one plot-and
perhaps this senor will know," he concluded, darting an
accusing glance at Roaul.
But Raoul, now thoroughly composed, smiled disdain-
fully, although agreeing in Doctor Miranda's rejection
of Leighton's half-formed theory.
"If it is necessary,” he assured them, “I can easily
prove that I have had nothing to do with all this. I have
not been out of Bogota for a month or more. Besides,
I have the strongest business reasons for wanting the
safe return of David Meudon to this country. As for
Mr. Parmelee; I repeat-I never heard of him before.
But, I agree with our friend here; the disappearance of
these two men has nothing to do with the Panama
trouble. It is something else. There is a mystery about
it. I have no doubt it can be solved.”
“You have the clew?” demanded Leighton.
"I didn't say that.”
“Well?"


144
THE GILDED MAN
“Perhaps I know some one here a woman who
could help us."
But that evening, after the departure of his visitors,
Raoul Arthur found the little house in the Calle de las
Flores tenantless, and learned that the woman, known
to the neighborhood as La Reina de los Indios, had left
Bogota, with all her household effects, a week before.


XI
IN WHICH ANDREW IS FOUND
DUZZLED at not finding Sajipona, uncertain how to
take up the promise he had given in regard to her,
an altogether unexpected turn of events awaited Raoul
at Leighton's hotel the next morning. Andrew Parmelee
had been found. In the custody of two delighted police
officers the missing schoolmaster, bewildered, quite
speechless from his nocturnal experience, had made his
appearance, scarcely an hour before Raoul's arrival.
When, thanks to Miranda's persistent prodding, backed
by the calm questioning of Leighton and Una's sympa-
thetic ministrations, he found his tongue, the account
Andrew gave of his adventure was so wildly improbable
that his friends were inclined to believe he had been the
victim of some temporary mental delusion. But this did
not answer the threefold question: what had brought on
his delusion, how bad he escaped the vigilant Miranda,
and how had he fallen into the hands of the police.
The two officers gave a simple statement of what, so
far as they knew, had happened.
Late the night before, they said, Andrew had wan-
dered into the alcalde's office in a little pueblo a few
miles this side of Guatavita. His appearance, manner
and mental condition—they hinted broadly enough that
145


146
THE GILDED MAN
the luckless Andrew, when first found was in a very irre-
sponsible condition indeed-called for the protection of
the law. But as the poor gentleman, they said, was ap-
parently suffering from nothing more than the effects of
a too convivial outing in the country, he had been put in
jail, not as a punishment, but rather as an act of
humanity. Unable to express himself in Spanish, Andrew
had evidently been something of a puzzle to the simple-
minded officials of the pueblo. Out of his incoherent
jumble of words, however, the name of a hotel in Bogota
had been seized upon. A telephone message was sent
to the municipal police, and the two officers who now
had him in charge were detailed to conduct him in safety
to his friends. Beyond this, the clearing up of the mys-
tery of his temporary disappearance—if mystery it was
-rested with Andrew himself. But he, for a time, was
unable to satisfy the curiosity of his questioners.
"I don't understand it myself,” he said hopelessly,
addressing himself, in the main, to Leighton, whose calm
demeanor was less confusing than the badgering of the
excitable Doctor. "All I know is, that when Doctor
Miranda went off to make some explorations on his own
account, I felt a little nervous at finding myself alone
in such a dismal place. Not frightened, you know, but
just nervous.”
“Why you not call to me?” demanded Miranda.
“There was really no reason to call for help, you see,
as nothing had happened. So, just to pass the time
until Doctor Miranda came back, I walked along the edge
of the lake, feeling very miserable, I confess, wondering
what had become of Mr. Meudon, and wishing that we
were all out of this terrible country and back in Rys-


150
THE GILDED MAN
were afflicted with more than the usual amount of timid-
ity, I suppose you avoided him.”
"I assure you, Sir, that as soon as I saw this person, I
felt no further fear. There was nothing threatening in
his manner. And it flashed through my mind that he
could give me some information about Mr. Meudon. I
observed that he beckoned me to him-and as he did so
I followed.”
"Well?”
“That was the singular part of it. There was every
reason why I should not go with him—at least, not with-
out first notifying Doctor Miranda. But this strange
being smiled so pleasantly and seemed so friendly that
my feeling of nervousness passed away, and I was eager
to go with him. This I did. Apparently he retraced
his steps, leading me along the shore of a little inlet to
the lake until we reached a high wall of rock that I had
not particularly noticed before. Here he stopped and
looked at me, still smiling, as if to make sure that I was
following him.”
“Do you think you could identify this wall of rock if
you were to see it again?” asked Raoul Arthur, speaking
for the first time.
"I am sure I could,” said Andrew, “because we stood
in front of it for some time, this strange person in the
toga passing his hand over its surface, while I wondered
what he was going to do next. I noticed that it was a
very high and blank wall indeed.”
“Where was it?”
“Just next to the cutting that Doctor Miranda had told
me was made by the Spaniards to drain the lake."


IN WHICH ANDREW IS FOUND 151
.
"I did not see this wall,” expostulated Miranda. “You
are in one dream."
"Never mind,” snapped Leighton; "go on with your
story.”
“I am afraid you will believe me less than ever,” said
Andrew deprecatingly. “But I am only telling what I
am certain I saw."
“Go on."
“As he passed his hand over the surface of the wall he
gradually turned to one side until we stood before a nar-
row cleft in the rocks."
"It is not there,” interrupted Miranda contemptu-
ously. "I examine all this rock. It has no—what you
call?— cleft."
“I am very sorry, Sir, but I know that there is such a
cleft. I think that is what you would call it. You
might easily have overlooked it, Sir. It was only a nar-
row opening in the rock, facing away from the lake and
reaching up not more than about three feet from the
ground.”
"I remember it,” declared Raoul.
“Pray go on with your story, Mr. Parmelee,” Leighton
commanded.
“There is not much more to tell, although the little
that remains is quite the most extraordinary part of it.
Pausing an instant before this opening in the rock, my
strange guide crouched down until he was able to pass
within it, beckoned me to follow him, and then disap-
peared." .
The schoolmaster spoke with difficulty, hesitating every
now and then for the word that would best express what
had happened. Having plunged into his story, however,


152
THE GILDED MAN
he went bravely on, gaining courage as he recalled his
singular experiences, and impressing those who heard him
with the sincerity, if not the truth, of the narrative. Of
all his auditors Raoul, apparently, followed him with the
closest attention. His attitude, indeed, seemed to indi-
cate a belief, on his part, in Andrew's statements.
"I hesitated about following this unknown man into
so strange a place,” continued Andrew; "but his manner
was so perfectly courteous and friendly—and then I
thought that behind all this mystery there might be
something to help us find Mr. Meudon—that I made
up my mind to keep with him as long as possible. I
crouched down, therefore, as I had seen him do, forced
my way through the narrow opening in the rock, and
presently, after a little difficulty, found myself in a dark
passage that afforded me room to stand upright and
move forward. I could dimly perceive my guide walking
at some distance in front of me, and I hastened as well
as I could to reach him. In this I did not succeed, and
so we followed the passage, he leading and I after him,
for a hundred yards or more, until we came to an abrupt
angle in the wall where the uneven path made a sharp
dip downward. Here I stopped, having completely lost
sight of my guide, and after waiting a short time I called
to him. No answer came that I could hear, and in the
darkness that surrounded me I began to grow confused
and alarmed. It seemed to me I had been lured into
some sort of trap. Repenting of my folly for having
ventured so far into such a dismal hole, I determined
to get out of it as quickly as possible. This, I thought,
would be easily done because, to the best of my knowl-
edge, I had followed along a straight corridor and, if I


IN WHICH ANDREW IS FOUND 153
turned back, I would soon come within sight of the open-
ing that led to the lake. But either I had miscalculated
the distance I had walked, or else, in turning to go out
I started in the wrong direction. At any rate, I had
not gone very far before I found myself in a labyrinth
of passages. I perceived this by feeling along the wall.
And so—there I was, without any clew to help me in
choosing the right passage.
"I scarcely know what I did when I realized that I
was hopelessly lost in this pitch black cavern. For one
thing, I shouted for help, thinking that possibly Doctor
Miranda might hear me. But the echoes from my voice
were more terrifying than the silence. The air was
stifling; the ground appeared to move beneath my feet;
the darkness was like a heavy veil winding closer and
closer about me. Then, unable, as it seemed to me, to
move or breathe any longer, everything went from me.
I sank to the floor unconscious. And that's all I remem-
ber.”
"But-how you say that? You are here, leetle fel-
low," blurted Miranda. “You are all right.”
“Yes, I am here,” Andrew assented woefully. “But
I don't know how I got here. When I came to myself
again I was lying on the shore of the lake. It was quite
dark. My horse had gone "
“That is right; I take him," corroborated Miranda,
with satisfaction.
"I don't know how I succeeded in doing it-I suppose
it was instinct—but I managed to follow the trail on foot,
and after a desperate struggle I reached the village where
the people helped me to get back to Bogota."
Andrew's story was variously received. No one could


154
THE GILDED MAN
doubt his honesty. With such transparent simplicity as
his, it would be difficult to suppose him capable of draw-
ing-consciously at least-upon his fancy. Doctor
Miranda suggested that he merely dreamed what he
afterwards took to be reality. But the others, discredit-
ing this theory, were apparently inclined to accept the
story, so far as it went, in spite of its fantastic and well
nigh incredible features. Raoul Arthur appeared par-
ticularly impressed and proposed immediate action.
"I know the cleft in the rock," he said. “I have been
over a small part of the passage to which it gives en-
trance. It was there, three years ago, in our attempt to
undermine Lake Guatavita, that a charge of dynamite ex-
ploded, after which David Meudon disappeared. I had
no idea that this passage extended back into the moun-
tain as far as it does, according to Mr. Parmelee's story.
But now-it strikes me, Mr. Leighton, that chance has
given us the clew you were seeking last night. If you
are still anxious to trace David's whereabouts, the path
lies down the passage entered by Mr. Parmelee and his
togaed, sandaled guide.”
“You want to explore it?" demanded Leighton.
“I do."
“But why, if it was already known to you, have you
not done this before?”
“The natives have always fought shy of going into
it further than our mining operations made necessary.
Besides, I never had any reason to suppose that it was
more than a mere natural formation of rock-as it prob-
ably is extending a short distance into the main body
of the mountain."
“And now?"


IN WHICH ANDREW IS FOUND 155
“I have no theory to advance. But,” he added sig-
nificantly, "it was in this unexplored tunnel that David
disappeared three years ago.”
The reminder had its effect. This linking up of the
mysterious tunnel that had so nearly proved fatal to
Andrew, with David's first adventure suggested the pos-
sible solution of a problem that had baffled them until
now. In spite of Miranda's derisive comments on the
schoolmaster's "fairy tale," there seemed to be only one
thing to do explore the tunnel. It might lead no-
where, and in that case the labor and the risk—if risk
there was—would be of small account. If, however, it
was the entrance to a subterranean dwelling, inhabited
by people of whom the strange being described by An-
drew was a specimen, the discovery was well worth
making.
“We will rescue David!” exclaimed Una, the eagerness
of hope in her voice.
"But, my young lady,” protested Miranda; "he go
away many mile from this tunnel.”
“That is true," assented Leighton.
“All the same, David was lost there before,” Raoul
reminded him. “It is a clew we are bound to follow."
The question remained, how carry out the proposed
exploration? Equipped with miners' lamps, a number
of which, of the best pattern, were still among the stores
David and Raoul had brought to Colombia at the begin-
ning of their venture, the worst difficulty-darkness
could easily be overcome. Firearms, a supply of pro-
visions, and oil for the lamps, were other items obvious-
ly needed. But the essential thing was, as Doctor
Miranda tersely put it, "brains"--a cool-headed leader


156
THE GILDED MAN
who would bring them back to the entrance of the tunnel
in case of danger. General Herran, with his military
training and experience, was the man for this rôle. This
hero of unfought battles was thereupon chosen captain
of the expedition—not, however, without some modest
disclaimers of ability on his part.
“There will be five of us then," remarked Leighton.
“General Herran, Doctor Miranda, Arthur, Parmelee and
myself.”
“There will be six," amended Una.
“Six?"
“I will be one of the party.”
“Preposterous! You might as well make it seven, and
include Mrs. Quayle."
"I wouldn't think of going," declared that lady quiver-
ing with agitation.
"It is not for the womens,” argued Miranda, in his
most conciliatory manner. “There may be troubles, and
we want only the mens.”
Una turned on him fiercely.
"I don't believe there is any danger,” she cried; "but,
anyway, I am going. I am certain David is there. I
will go!"
To all of which Miranda gave an untranslatable ex-
clamation denoting sympathy, admiration for the pluck
of this unexpected volunteer. Leighton, however, was
less easily moved, and it was not until his niece assured
him that she would return if the expedition promised to
be a dangerous one, that he consented to her passionate
plea.


XII
A DEAD WALL
M RS. QUAYLE objected to being parted from Una.
1 She objected vigorously—vigorously, at least, as
compared to her usual manner of taking things. She
complained that guarding the baggage in a strange
country, where it was impossible to make even her sim-
plest wants intelligible, was not the sort of thing she was
there for. But she could not turn Una from her pur-
pose; nor was it any easier, once his consent was given,
to move Leighton to a reconsideration of the matter.
Only one thing was left for her to do. If she wished to
keep within reach of Una she would have to accompany
her on the expedition—"the picnic,” as Leighton grimly
called it. She hated to do this, but, as solicitude for
Una was stronger than concern for her own safety, she
had ended by tremblingly begging to be of the party.
“Let her come,” said Miranda derisively. “It will not
be for long time.”
So Mrs. Quayle, much as she hated adventures, got
what she wanted.
Early next morning, mounted on mules and carrying
their supply of provisions neatly packed in hampers,
they reached Lake Guatavita. Judging by appearances,
one would say that they were after nothing more serious
157


A DEAD WALL
. 159
susceptible heart, he put on a brave front and did not
flinch from the part he was expected to take in the ex-
pedition. There was that dreadful lake, there the wall
of rock he had described, and there the inconspicuous
opening to the tunnel from whose hidden dangers he had
been so mysteriously rescued—he faced it all and braced
himself for the inevitable explanations. But his knowl-
edge of the place was far less than Raoul's.
"It was through this opening to Mr. Parmelee's tunnel
that we entered upon the excavation by which we hoped
to drain the lake three years ago,” he remarked.
From an engineering point of view the statement was
mystifying because the opening of the tunnel was almost
on a level with the surface of the lake. Thus, it was
difficult to see what would have been gained had the
waters of the latter been diverted into the tunnel. It
was explained, however, that an intersecting tunnel at a
very much lower level furnished the desired outlet, and
the miners had planned to connect with this. As Leigh-
ton and the rest were not concerned in these bygone mat-
ters, the abortive attempts of the mining company to use
this subterranean passage in the mountain was not
traced out in detail. Time was urgent; there was no
telling how long they might be in the tunnel. If they
wanted to avoid making a night of it they would have to
hurry.
Unloading the mules, therefore, of their provisions, and
leaving these melancholy animals in the care of two
peons who had come with them from Bogota, the pic-
nickers equipped themselves for their adventure—that is,
they fastened the miners' lamps to their hats. In the
case of the men this was not difficult. But Mrs. Quayle's


A DEAD WALL
16I
themselves in a spacious rock chamber, the walls of which
rose above them to a majestic height. Andrew, espe-
cially, was amazed at what he saw, declaring that it was
all quite different from his first experience in the same
place. When it was remembered, however, that on this
former occasion the schoolmaster had only the feeble
glimmer of light that found its way through the opening
of the cave to show him where he was, the difference
betweeen his two impressions was not surprising. But
it puzzled his companions to choose the route they were
to follow in their explorations. Here Andrew could not
help them. Two passages were discovered leading from
the chamber in which they stood. One went straight
ahead, offering a fairly easy, unobstructed path to the
explorer. The other, a branch from the main tunnel,
was narrow, strewn with debris of fallen rock, and alto
gether forbidding in the glimpse that could be had of
the first few hundred feet of its course. One feature,
however, belonging to this smaller tunnel gave it the
preference. But before discovering this feature and
making their choice the explorers thought it best to in-
form themselves, as well as they could, of the character
of the cave itself. In this Leighton naturally took the
lead, and from his investigations it was concluded that,
unlike other caves, the origin of the Guatavita cave was
primarily volcanic and due only secondarily to the action
of water.
The implement employed by Nature in fashioning her
underground caverns is usually water. Some mighty
spring, deep within the earth’s bosom, seeks an outlet
for its accumulating current. It forces its way through
whatever porous layer of rock comes in its path, and by


162
THE GILDED MAN
persistent action, occupying ages of time, disintegrates
and destroys it altogether. There is left, as a result of
the subterranean stream's activity, a series of tunnels,
widening out oftentimes into great rock chambers, and
extending, in several well known instances, for many
miles. Wherever water is the sole architect the lines
that it carves, the forms it molds, are smooth, well-
rounded; there are no jagged edges, sharp angles in the
fairy palaces and intricate labyrinths that it leaves as
specimens of its artistic method. The walls of the
Guatavita tunnel, however, were eloquent of a totally
different force employed in their making. The marks
of an angry Titan were upon them; the Titan of Fire.
They told of an elemental tragedy, swift and cataclysmic
in its action. The deep scars in their surfaces, the
rough crags and pinnacles jutting from them, were the
epic characters in which the monster's struggle for free-
dom were written down for all posterity to study and
wonder at.
Thus, Leighton did not hesitate to attribute an igneous
origin to the cave, and it was after a close examina-
tion of the earth and pebble-strewn floor that the smaller
tunnel was chosen as the best for exploration. There
were footprints in both tunnels, but in this one they were
more numerous than in the other, where they had been
made, according to Raoul, at the time dynamite had been
used in the excavations. Comparing these footprints,
those in the larger tunnel were evidently from ordinary
shoes, while in the smaller they bore the impress of
sandals.
"Andrew's man in the toga is the one we want,” re-
marked Leighton, a decision that added to Mrs. Quayle's


164
THE GILDED MAN
footprint in a cave, not subject to effacement by wind or
weather, should remain indefinitely, unless destroyed by
man or animal. But, curiously enough, the sandal prints
were not sufficiently numerous to stamp out all vestige of
the prints that must have been made by Raoul in his
coming and going through the tunnel—if Raoul had
really ever been in this tunnel. So Leighton argued, and
the conclusion that Raoul had not been there at all seemed
logical. Had he deliberately deceived them—a suppo-
sition for which there appeared no motiver was he
himself mistaken in the course he had pursued in his
exploration some years ago?
“Well, there it is,” laughed Raoul. “Your reasoning
is sound. My footprints ought to be here, but they
aren't. I can't explain it.”
“It is not worth while," exclaimed Miranda impa-
tiently, adding not over lucidly, "they take them away."
"Perhaps Mr. Arthur wore sandals,” suggested Andrew,
illuminated by a brilliant idea.
"Whatever happened, Uncle Harold,” said Una, who
had ventured into the tunnel some distance ahead of
the others, "what difference does it make now? We are
losing time from our search—from your picnic, Mrs.
Quayle!”
"Picnic!” she shuddered. “How can we picnic with
dead walls and mysterious footprints all around us?”
"Good!” exclaimed Miranda in response to Una's ap-
peal. “The womens always are captains—the mens must
follow!”
There being no objection to this way of putting it,
Leighton and Raoul gave up the puzzle of the footprints
and set out seriously to explore the tunnel.


A DEAD WALL
165
They soon found, as Raoul said, that traveling here
had its difficulties. Huge boulders that took some little
dexterity and sureness of foot to get over obstructed the
narrow passage. For Una, who showed surprising agil-
ity, such impediments were not disconcerting; but Mrs.
Quayle found them not at all to her liking. Progress
with that bewildered lady was necessarily slow and, in
some unusually rough places, had to be made by a sys-
tem of shoving from behind and hauling from above that
kept her in a state of breathless agitation. This was
increased by imaginary terrors, chief among which was
the constant dread of meeting the apparition described
by Andrew, whose story had made a deep impression on
her mind.
As a matter of fact Andrew's man in the toga was not
in evidence, except as the occasional imprint of a sandal
on the floor of the cave suggested him. But the ex-
plorers were too busy surmounting the obstacles with
which the tunnel was strewn to heed details that other-
wise might have arrested their attention. The sharp
edges of the rocky wall played havoc with their clothing,
drawing from Miranda, incensed at his own rotundity, a
choice series of expletives—fortunately in Spanish—and
arousing the wrath even of Mrs. Quayle. After the first
five hundred yards, however, the passage widened suf-
ficiently for them to look about and take account of the
perils—if there were any-facing them.
The endless vista of rock, hewn in every conceivable
shape and lighted dimly by the rays from their lamps,
was dispiriting, to say the least. With the passing of the
tunnel, however, and its alarming sense of premature
entombment, even Mrs. Quayle experienced a faint return


168
THE GILDED MAN
praise, and was silently noted by Harold Leighton as
one of the novel features of the Guatavita cave.
"Of course we must go on,” Leighton decided impa-
tiently. “If Mrs. Quayle is nervous, she had better wait
for us outside."
"Perhaps I will be only in the way here," said that
lady contritely. "But what will you do without me,
Una?”
"I will take her," interposed Miranda in a chivalric
outburst. “Come!” he added, turning unceremoniously
to retrace his steps to the opening of the tunnel, a point
that could not be far away, although not near enough to
be revealed by the light thrown from their lamps.
In spite of the extended area of the subterranean
chamber in which they were standing, it was easy to
return to the tunnel by simply retracing the path they
were on. This path was marked by a depression in the
uneven rocky floor across which it was laid. It was
fairly smooth and overspread by a fine sand that bore
the impress of many sandaled feet. There was no dan-
ger of losing one's way, and the energetic doctor, hurried
along so as to spend the least possible time on his self-
appointed mission.. He did not notice that the terrified
Mrs. Quayle, convinced that his invitation concealed a
plot to rob her of her jewels, failed to accompany him.
The others, amused at his abrupt departure, patiently
awaited his return, watching the speck of light made by
his lamp bobbing about in the distance. Presently the
light disappeared, and they concluded that Miranda had
entered the tunnel. But in this they were mistaken. In
a few minutes they were startled by an explosive “Caram-
ba!” followed shortly by the apparition of the doctor


A DEAD WALL
169
running towards them, breathless from his exertions, and
exploding with mingled wrath and consternation.
"It has gone lost! I cannot find him!” he shouted
in an incoherent torrent of Spanish and English.
“What has gone?" demanded Leighton.
“We are lost! We are lost! The tunnel has gone!”
“Nonsense!”
"It is true! I go there. I not lie. I find the tunnel
where we come and it has gone!”
"Impossible! What did you find?”
“I not find it. It is true! I find there what this
fellow say," he replied, turning savagely on Raoul. "It
is—what you call?—one dead wall!”


XIII
MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD
TIRANDA was not dreaming—the tunnel had van-
IV ished. That may be a strong word for it; but
anyway, whatever had happened, the tunnel was not to
be found.
Returning by the path upon which they had entered
the subterranean chamber, they were confronted by a
wall of rock where the entrance to the tunnel should have
been. They were perfectly certain that when they
passed out of the tunnel, less than half an hour before,
into the main body of the cave, this wall had not been
there. Where it had come from, why they had not seen
it before, were posers too puzzling to waste time over.
No one had seen it, of that they were certain; and they
couldn't have helped seeing it if it had been there.
Hence they were forced to the astonishing conclusion that
this wall had moved into its present position during the
last half hour through some invisible, superhuman agency.
The whole thing, in fact, was incomprehensible, ridicu-
lous, absurd. But there it was, for all that—and it had
its depressing consequences.
“You know that crocodile on the river,” said Miranda
impressively; "he open the mouth—the bird walk in.
170


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD 171
He shut the mouth-the bird is in one trap. So it is
to us.”
Terrified by this picture of what had happened, Mrs.
Quayle involuntarily clutched the jewels encircling her
neck as if to protect them from some invisible brigand.
The schoolmaster, also, seemed to suffer additional dis-
comfort. Miranda's way of putting it, however, failed
to satisfy the others. Leighton stoutly refused to believe
in magic. Herran, in voluble Spanish, insisted that
magic alone could explain the affair. Miranda repeated
his alligator theory.
“This cave is alive,” he added. "You see the mark of
the feets?"
“Where is Mr. Arthur?” suddenly asked Una.
They had been so absorbed in the mystery of the van-
ishing tunnel that the absence of one of their number
had not been noticed. Una's startled query brought
them face to face with another puzzle, as baffling and
uncanny, in a way, as the wall of rock that had come
from nowhere and planted itself between them and the
entrance to the cave. Raoul had disappeared; search
as they might, call as loudly as they could, no trace of
him was to be found. Had he deliberately deserted
them, or had he suddenly been spirited away by the same
invisible agency that had prevented their leaving the
cave? The more credulous of the party believed he had
been spirited away.
“But it is impossible,” insisted Miranda angrily. "I
see him now—and now he is not here. The canaille!”
“There is only one thing to be done,” declared Leighton
emphatically. “We can't get out of here; we must
go on.”


172
THE GILDED MAN
“Yes! Yes!” exclaimed Una.
“Caramba! What for we go on?” remonstrated
Miranda. “We are lost, we starve, if we leave this
place."
“You mean, we are lost if we stay here," reasoned
Leighton. “There is nothing to be gained by staring
at this rock. The fact that Arthur has disappeared, that
the entrance to the tunnel has been closed, that there are
fresh footprints besides our own all about us, proves that
this cave is inhabited. Whoever they are, we must find
these people."
Leighton's way of putting things was effective. It at
least prevented a panic. Even Miranda admitted the
necessity of the course proposed by the savant, and as
Herran had nothing else to offer in its place, it was de-
cided to press on with the exploration of the cave without
delay.
Fortunately, they had a fair amount of provisions and
enough oil to keep their lamps going for several days.
Before starting on their expedition—when it promised
to be nothing more than a "picnic”—this supply of food
and fuel seemed far beyond any possible need. Now,
thanks to the fussiness of Mrs. Quayle, who had insisted
on these abundant preparations, there was no immediate
danger of starvation. Each carried his or her portion of
food in a light, capacious sack. These sacks, woven by
the natives from vegetable fiber, swung easily from the
shoulders. The oil for the lamps was in two cans, one
of which Andrew carried, Raoul the other. Whatever
had become of Raoul, his can of oil had not disappeared
with him. It was found near the spot in the large cave
where Miranda had turned back to take Mrs. Quayle


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD 173
to the tunnel. Here, then, Raoul bad left them. Hoping
for a clew, they examined the ground for his footprints,
but could discover nothing. The path beyond showed
the impress of sandaled feet only—and Raoul, they
agreed, did not wear sandals. Either he had left the
path and chosen the rocky floor of the cavern in its
stead-in which case it would be impossible to dis-
cover his trail-or he had followed them to the tunnel
and gone off on one of the side tracks that they had
noticed and partially explored there. Why he should
have done either of these things was quite beyond them
to answer. At any rate, they tried every means to
find him, and their failure left them more despondent
than ever. All except Leighton and Una.
Failure did not daunt Leighton. He was convinced
that by persevering in their exploration they would
solve the mystery of the cave, gain tidings of David,
and run down Raoul. Una shared his optimistic view,
and both chafed at the reluctance of their companions
to go ahead with the energy their plight demanded.
The fact is, the feeling that they were caught in a cavern
of unknown extent, connected with certain mysterious
happenings in the immediate past, mixed up in the
legendary history of a vanished race, and inhabited even
now by strange beings in outlandish costumes, had a
blighting effect upon them. Mrs. Quayle refused to be
comforted and, as it was out of the question to go on
without her, Leighton, like an astute general, proposed
having lunch before doing anything else. Every one
brightened up at the idea; it was one of those master-
strokes of policy that, when all else fails, saves the day.
Miranda declared emphatically that food was "good


174
THE GILDED MAN
for the estomach," and, as no one thought otherwise,
they fell to with an appetite sharpened by their exer-
tions and made fairly razor-like-although this they
did not realize—by the bracing atmosphere of the cave.
There were bollos of corn and yucca-yellow, white,
brown—variously flavored, sogay, solid. This was a
concentrated food that just hit the need of a party of
marooned picknickers. And there were large flat disks
of cassava, a native bread that Mrs. Quayle declared,
with some reason, resembled chips of wood, more than
anything else, in taste and toughness. This, too, fur-
nished the maximum of nourishment in a small space.
These foods, with such fruits as the almond-like sapoti,
the juicy nispera, the delicate chirimoyo, furnished a
meal that aroused Miranda's enthusiasm, although to the
untrained New England palate it was not quite so satis-
fying as it might be. The thought, too, that after this
supply of food was exhausted, there would be nothing
to eat, and no way of getting anything to eat, spoiled
just that part of the picnic that should be most enjoy-
able. And then, worse than all, unthought of until now,
there was the appalling problem of water. In the lunch
bags of Doctor Miranda and General Herran there were
two small bottles of red wine; but when this was offered
to Mrs. Quayle that unhappy lady's thirst for water
reached an acute stage. She declared that all wine was
poison, and that she would die if she couldn't get a
drink of water. Even Leighton was disturbed. Water
they must have, but—did it exist in a cave that was,
apparently, caused by fire and not-as all respectable
caves are—by water?


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD 175
“Guatavita!” exclaimed Miranda, smacking his lips
after a deep draught of claret.
“Guatavita!” echoed Leighton irritably. "Why not
say the river Magdalena? How are we to reach Guata-
vita?"
"It is near," was the complacent reply. "It come into
the cave.”
“How do you know that?”
“Always there is water in the cave. And here there
is the lake outside.”
“Yes, outside,” said Leighton bitterly.
“But first it is inside.”
Miranda's confident assertion was worth considering.
That there might be that there probably was—some
subterranean connection between the cave and the lake
-even if the former did come from fire—was a plausible
theory. As he went over the matter in his own mind,
Leighton's respect for Miranda's common sense jumped
from zero to a comparatively high figure. But he was
not convinced.
“You forget; we are above the level of the lake,” he
argued.
“That is true,” agreed the doctor, who, in the mean-
time, bottle in hand, had been nervously walking about,
peering into the darkness that surrounded them. “Yes,
that is true. We come in over there; and always we
walk up, up. The lake is always below. This path it
never go down. But here—aha! Carambal-is one other
path-and it go down.”
Miranda's voice shrilled with excitement. He was
elated with the importance of his discovery. And it
was important. The spot they had chosen for their


176
THE GILDED MAN
lunch was the furthest point they had reached in their
explorations, the point where Miranda had turned back
to take Mrs. Quayle out of the cave and where they
had last seen Raoul Arthur. It was marked by a huge
pyramidal rock rising from the floor of the cave. Along
one side of this rock the path they had followed went
on indefinitely, in a gradual upward incline. It was to
the other side that Miranda eagerly called attention.
Placing his bottle of claret down on the rock beside
him, he got on his knees and, with his nose almost
touching the ground, made a minute study of the floor
of the cave.
Even Andrew felt the contagion of the doctor's excite-
ment. Fruits, bollos, cassavas were abandoned pell mell
as one and all scrambled to their feet eager to find out
what new puzzle Miranda had managed to pick up.
The light from their lamps cast huge, uncertain shadows
on the irregular masses of rock that everywhere blocked
the view. At first there was nothing to be seen that
differed essentially from what they had grown accus-
tomed to in this subterranean world. There was the
same chaos of jagged pinnacles and bowlders, the same
display of irresistible energy that had been let loose
and played itself out here ages ago. But in the midst
of it all, zigzagging through this maze of dusty forms,
there was the new path announced by Miranda. It led
away from the central rock, or pillar, where they had
taken their lunch, and formed an acute angle with the
path they had already traversed. It was not so plainly
marked as the latter, and appeared little more than a
rift among the rocks that strewed the floor of the cave.
But it was a path, there was no mistaking that. Among


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD. 177
the evidences that it had been recently used was one
that particularly delighted Miranda and justified his
prolonged microscopic examination of the path itself-
the footprints of a man wearing, not sandals, but shoes.
“Raoul Arthur!” exclaimed Leighton.
"Perhaps," agreed Miranda.
“Where could he have gone?” asked Una. "This
path runs in nearly the same direction as the one we
followed.”
“We will see.”
As a matter of fact, the two paths, starting together
at the central rock and going thence in the same general
direction, gradually diverged from each other, much as
do the two lines that form the letter V. Then, another
difference was noticeable. The first path followed a
comparatively uniform level; the second dipped steadily
downward. This peculiarity, first noted by Miranda,
appealed particularly to Herran. Gloom had been the
dominant mood with the general ever since he had en-
tered the cave. He had made mental notes of things
as they had happened, but he had not shared in the
discussions of the others. This was partly due to his
ignorance of English, partly to a sense of responsibility
that he felt as a citizen of Bogota whose duty it was
to guide a party of foreigners safely through one of
the difficult regions of his native land. But now, at last,
he had something to say, something that was due from
him as their leader. Tugging at his beard in charac-
teristic fashion, he gave the result of his observations in
terse Spanish.
“At first we go away from the lake. Then we come


178
THE GILDED MAN
THE
back to it, just a little. Then we go away. Now this
path take us right there again.”
“That is it,” agreed Miranda.
It sounded rather mixed up, and no one paid much
attention to it. But at least it put General Herran in
a better humor.
"Perhaps this will take us out of the cave," sug-
gested Andrew. “The path is nearly in the right direc-
tion."
“I hope it means water, anyway," said Una, thinking
of Mrs. Quayle.
They gathered up what was left of their provisions
and set off again, single file, down the new path, Gen-
eral Herran in the lead, Andrew bringing up the rear.
They had not gone many yards before they noticed the
marked difference in the two paths. At first the change
in level was scarcely perceptible; but now the descent
became more and more abrupt, and as there was less
sand and gravel for a foothold, they found the smooth
surface of the rocks, tilted often at a sharp angle, any-
thing but easy going. Another peculiarity that soon
caught their attention was the lessening height of the
cave's roof. Until now this roof had been so far above
them that they had to throw their heads way back to
see it, and even then it appeared in only vague outlines.
Now it took a downward curve that brought it nearer
and nearer to them. Following the same descending
sweep it was evident that floor and roof would shortly
come together and the confines, at least of that portion
of the cave, would be reached.
Along with this new architectural feature in the
structure of the cave, there was a noticeable change in


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD 179
the character of the rock forming it. Walls and floor
had, until now, been sharp and jagged in contour, dull,
almost black, in color. But the unevenness of surface was
disappearing. The rocks were smoother, as if worn and
rounded by constant rubbing. Vivid colors gleamed
from wall and column with a pristine freshness suggest-
ing that this part of the cave belonged to a far more
distant period than the great rock chamber in which
they had stopped to take their luncheon. Finally, they
were surrounded at every hand by those spear-like for-
mations, thrust upwards from the floor or depending
from the roof, that give to the interiors of most caves
their fantastic appearance—the stalactites and stalag-
mites about whose origin in the workshop of Nature there
can be no doubt.
This change had an invigorating effect upon the ex-
plorers. Passing from the unrelieved gloom of the first
cavern into this fairy-built grotto, with its bright hues
and pleasing shapes, they began to forget their fears
and felt instead something like the real enjoyment that
belongs to unexpected adventure. Everything in the way
of glorious surprise seemed possible. For one thing,
Miranda's confident prediction was apparently about to
be realized, a probability that the doctor celebrated by
alternate chuckles and grunts of satisfaction.
"If we don't find water, there is at least no doubt that
water has once been here," declared Leighton. “These
stalactites make that certain."
"You will see you will see," persisted Miranda. "It
is the Lake Guatavita.”
"How can that be?” argued Leighton. "No opening
of the lake into this cave has ever been discovered."


180
THE GILDED MAN
“You will see.”
One might almost imagine that the intricacies of the
cave were as familiar to the doctor as the formula for
his celebrated pills. But his confident attitude was
only one part genuine to three parts bravado. He en-
joyed opposing a scientist showing such supreme self-
possession as Leighton, and he delighted in startling
statements of fact that merely bewildered his hearers.
But he was by no means sure in his own mind of the
truth, or even the probability of the theory he was ad-
vancing. General Herran, however, who had heard as
far back as he could remember the strange tales of
mystery regarding Lake Guatavita, and had often spec-
ulated with other Bogotanos on the disappearance be-
neath its waters of the fabulous wealth of the ancient
Chibchas, was keenly alive to the possibilities lying
before them now that they were on the very spot haunted
by so many fascinating traditions of his race. Like
most natives of Bogota the Spanish blood in his veins
was mixed with the blood of the Chibchas—and it was
an infusion he was proud to own. Hence, he readily
believed that at any moment they would stumble upon
a perfect mountain of treasure, all the lost gold and
emeralds that Spanish romancers had dreamed about
and travelers of the old heroic times had risked their
lives for.
They had now reached the end of the precipitous
incline down which the path had led them, thankful to
exchange the slipping and sliding, to which the tilted
rocks had treated them, for the firm footing offered by
a comparatively level floor. Here the roof hung only
a few feet above their heads, whence it curved down-


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD 181
ward, glistening with the delicate fretwork that the
subterranean torrents of bygone ages had carved upon it,
until it became a part of the rock-strewn ground beneath.
The chamber thus formed became a long, spacious corri-
dor, one side of which was open to the vast amphitheater
they had just left, the other side stoutly hemmed in by
a maze of stalactites and stalagmites looming up as sen-
tinels in front of a wall that could be dimly seen behind
them. Down the middle of this corridor lay the path
they had been following, wider now and showing the
imprint of many sandaled feet. Before them, at the end
of the corridor, they could distinguish the outlines of
another wall, apparently marking the limit of this portion
of the cave.
“There is your lake,” said Leighton ironically to
Miranda, who shrugged his shoulders in reply.
"At any rate, Uncle Harold,” said Una reproach-
fully, “there must be an opening here. And the air is
just heavenly! Instead of walking, one could dance."
The others appeared to feel the truth of Una's obser-
vation, for they moved along with a briskness, a snap,
they had not shown before. This was particularly
noticeable in Mrs. Quayle, who seemed to be propelled
by some inner gayety of spirit that quite changed her
usually sedate manner and appearance. The transfor-
mation was not lost on Una, who was both amused and
puzzled by it.
“Look at Mrs. Quayle's jewelry!” she exclaimed.
"It is dancing about as if it were moved by a breeze
from somewhere.”
“What do you mean? I can't feel any breeze," de-
clared Leighton. “The singular fluttering of Mrs.


182
THE GILDED MAN
Quayle's jewelry simply means, I suppose, that the
wearer is, as usual, agitated.”
That Mrs. Quayle was agitated, and not in the joyous
frame of mind that Una at first supposed, began to be
painfully evident. Ever since she had come into the
cave agitation had been a chronic condition with her.
But in this instance it hardly explained the eccentric
activity that had suddenly developed among the ancient
heirlooms that she guarded so jealously. The large gold
pendants that dangled from her necklace beat an unac-
countable tattoo upon her neck and shoulders, while the
massive brooch fastened to her bodice showed an obsti-
nate tendency to break away from its moorings. Even
the gold rings on her fingers seemed possessed with a
rebellious spirit, a mischievous desire to dance in unison
with brooch and necklace, while two heavy bracelets,
made of links and chains, clicked and snapped like cas-
tanets under the prevailing terpsichorean influence.
For several minutes before Una drew attention to
these strange antics Mrs. Quayle had been unhappily
aware of the insurrection that had broken out among
her treasures and had clutched frantically at them in
an unavailing attempt to quiet their ill-timed frenzy.
She dabbed at them with one hand and caressed them
with the other, only to find that as soon as they were
freed from her restraining touch they flapped and jingled
and tugged at her with renewed energy. Finally, with
the eyes of all the party upon her, the terrified lady
gave up in despair.
"I don't know what is the matter with them," she
wailed; "they never acted this way before. I am not
agitated,” she added irritably, “as Mr. Leighton says.


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD 183
And I don't think it is a breeze either. It takes more
than a breeze to make bracelets and brooches dance.
They are just possessed, and for no reason at all. Oh,
why did I wear these precious things on this terrible
journey!”
Doctor Miranda, with the steadfast gaze of an exor-
cist, planting himself firmly in front of her, his arms
crossed on his chest Bonaparte-fashion, added to Mrs.
Quayle's dismay.
"I think she have the malaria,” he announced sol-
emnly. "I give her my pills ”.
"I won't take your old pills," was the spirited reply.
“They nearly did for poor Mr. Andrew. I think they
may kill him yet. There is nothing the matter with me.
I want to get out of this cave—and I'm going to this very
minute.”
Never in the annals of her long career as housekeeper
and self-effacing lady's companion had Mrs. Quayle
been known to give way to such open defiance of any
one belonging to the opposite sex. And, as if to show
that she meant every word she said, she brushed past
the astonished doctor and strode ahead of the others
along the path leading down the corridor. To no one
was her behavior more astonishing than to Leighton, in
whom the reserve of the scientist was sorely strained by
this sudden show of daring from a creature whose timidity
was proverbial. As leader of the expedition, and obeying
also the skeptical bent of his nature, the savant felt that
his own dignity was involved.
“Mrs. Quayle is perfectly right,” he announced coolly;
"we must lose no more time in these trifles. What if
her jewelry does show a disposition to dance? A woman's


184
THE GILDED MAN
jewelry is always ridiculous and Mrs. Quayle's has
always been a puzzle besides.”
But the rest of the party soon found that Mrs. Quayle
was not an easy leader to follow. Where before she
kept them back by her ineffectual efforts to get over the
various obstacles encountered in their explorations, and
had needed their help at almost every step, she now
set them a pace that atoned for her former lagging.
Whether this amazing activity was due to a sudden
attack of fever, as Doctor Miranda maintained, or
whether it came from a frantic desire to escape from a
region that filled her with superstitious terrors, Mrs.
Quayle showed no sign of giving up what she proposed
to do, whatever that might be. On the contrary, as the
far end of the corridor grew more distinct she sped
along faster than ever. Her rebellious jewelry fluttered
and twitched and danced more vigorously, until it fairly
stood out before her, straining and pulling her along,
breathless and hysterical, as if drawn by some irresistible
force.
"I can't stop it! I can't stop it!” she gasped.
To which Miranda, puffing along in her wake, replied
with dramatic emphasis: “This little woman must be
stop!”
But this was not easy, even for a doctor with unlim-
ited experience in quinine. The smooth, tapering sur-
faces of the stalactites, standing on guard in long rows
down one side of the corridor, glinted derisively as the
explorers rushed past them frantically trying to curb the
frenzy that had seized this perfectly harmless woman
who was now leading them on to a goal that might have
all kinds of disaster in store for them. As they drew


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD 185
nearer the end of the corridor, the expected opening that
was to deliver them from their subterranean prison was
not visible, at least to the hasty glance that could be
spared from the absorbing pursuit of Mrs. Quayle. Nev-
ertheless, the awkward rapidity with which they were
hurrying on to their fate was to be rewarded, apparently,
by the discovery of something that was different, at any
rate, from the wilderness of rocks that hitherto had baf-
fled them in this gloomy underworld—and it was not
General Herran's mountain of gold and emeralds, either.
Something made by man, and not by nature, was
here. This was unmistakably revealed in an odd sort of
structure towards which they were hurrying. At last
they were confronted, they believed, by the clew to the
mysterious beings who inhabited the place, whose pres-
ence had been indicated by the footprints, by the man in
the toga, seen, or imagined, by Andrew, and vaguely sug-
gested by the weird disappearance of the entrance to
the tunnel through which they had hoped to make their
escape. Here all these things that had filled them with
alternate anxiety and curiosity were to be explained.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Quayle's impatience to get on gave
them no opportunity to reconnoitre, at a safe distance,
the object they were approaching. Leighton especially,
accustomed to the careful methods of science, would have
preferred a more deliberate and cautious mode of travel
to the brainless hurry into which his housekeeper had
plunged them. As it was, the object looming before
them, so far as they could snatch time to make it out,
resembled a huge stone windlass. Even the cylindrical
drum and the long curved handle hanging at the side of
one of the tall uprights were of stone. Certainly, a


186
THE GILDED MAN
windlass like this—if it was a windlass—had never been
seen before. It could not be the work of modern times-
it was much too clumsy for that. And of stone! Per-
haps it belonged to the Stone Age. It was conceivable
-and the notion stirred the depths of the savant's soul
with delight—that here, in this subterranean chamber
of the Andes, they were about to stumble upon an archæ-
ological find that would revolutionize the current theories
as to primitive man and his development. But—was it
a windlass? The two uprights carrying the long hori-
zontal drum at the top, instead of in the middle, were
some ten or fifteen feet high. With such an abnormal
height, and such singular construction, the THING
might be intended to serve as a gallows quite as reason-
ably as a windlass. Whoever would have believed that
they had the gallows in the Stone Age! There, sure
enough, was the rope dangling most suggestively from
the crosspiece-or drum, whichever it might be. But
then, a rope was the conventional adornment, whether
for gallows or windlass. As they came within fifty yards
of it, the THING looked unquestionably more and more
like a gallows, less like a windlass. It stood within ten
feet of the wall, through a long, wide aperture in which
one end of the rope disappeared. The other end, at-
tached to what appeared to be a great oblong stone, lay
coiled upon the ground.
Not until she had almost reached it did Mrs. Quayle
realize the oddity of the structure towards which she
had been racing. Then its resemblance to a gallows sud-
denly flashed upon her. With a gurgle of horror she
threw herself upon the ground, unable, apparently, so
long as she remained upon her feet, to contend against


MRS. QUAYLE TAKES THE LEAD 187
the invisible influence that forced her to run fairly into
the arms of this terrifying object. Prostrate between
two rocks lying across the path, her wild flight came
to an end. Here her companions gathered around her
-Miranda, puffing and panting from his exertions, deter-
mined to allay the violent attack of fever that he still
believed was the cause of the lady's unaccountable par-
oxysms; Leighton, torn between the psychological inter-
est of the case and the archæological puzzle awaiting
solution; Andrew, his huge hands waving about in help-
less dismay, muttering incoherent advice to any one who
would listen, and Una, anxious to soothe an agitation
that, she conceived, was due merely to a case of nerves.
“She will be all right-soon she will be all right,”
declared Miranda, intent on his professional duties as
he knelt on the ground beside Mrs. Quayle. With which
comforting assurance he seized one of her hands, and
with his other hand tried to force open her mouth.
"I am all right,” she shrieked, tearing herself out of
his clutches. “There's nothing the matter with me.
Something is pulling me to that terrible thing over there.
It seems to be my jewelry. My necklace is cutting my
head off. This brooch!-oh! it's awful! What shall I
do? What is the matter?”.
"It is very simple," declared Leighton sternly. “Take
off your jewelry if it bothers you. I don't see why you
should be wearing it, anyway.”
Mrs. Quayle clutched wildly at her necklace and
brooch, loath to part with them and evidently regarding
the people gathered around her as little better than a
lot of brigands who had lured her here to rob her of her


188
THE GILDED MAN
treasures. Every one else heartily agreed with Leigh-
ton's proposal.
“Caramba! That is true!” shouted Miranda de-
lightedly. “This necklace, it choke her too much. I
take him off of her.”
Before Mrs. Quayle could protest further, Miranda
seized her by the throat, hauling at the massive neck-
lace in an effort to find the clasp that held it in place.
The task proved difficult and promised to develop fea-
tures that savored more of surgery than anything else.
The trouble was not so much from the defensive tactics
employed by Mrs. Quayle—who contrived to elude Mi-
randa's grasp with surprising agility-as it was with the
necklace itself. Never was a simple piece of jewelry more
rebellious. It slipped through the doctor's fingers and
jumped about and tugged at its victim's neck in the
most baffling and erratic manner. But Miranda, growing
more eager and determined, triumphed at last. Holding
the snakelike coil in both hands as in an iron vise, he
tore the chain apart with a masterly jerk.
And then an odd thing happened. Bounding to his
feet, elated with his success, and holding the necklace
towards his companions as if it were a hard-won trophy,
Miranda suddenly spun around like a top, his arms shot
straight out in front of him, and in this posture, before
any one knew what he was about, he fairly raced towards
the ominous apparatus at the end of the corridor and
hurled himself on the oblong stone beneath it.
-
- -
-
--
-
-


THE BLACK MAGNET
191
This doubt as to the genuineness of the housekeeper's
treasures was promptly denied, however, by Una, who
guaranteed their sterling quality.
"Let us test the rest of her jewelry," proposed
Leighton.
To this further demand on her property Mrs. Quayle,
wedged in between two rocks on the path where they
had left her, too terrified to move, offered only a feeble
protest. It mattered little to her, in her present con-
dition, if her bracelets and brooch followed the necklace
to their doom. One by one they were, accordingly, re-
moved by Una, who, probably because she was less
excitable than Miranda—and because, too, she had prof-
ited by his untoward experience in the same undertaking
—was able to handle these pieces of jewerly without mis-
hap. The force with which they were pulled towards the
Black Magnet, however, and the tenacity with which
they stuck to it, gave ample evidence that they answered
to the same influence that still held the necklace.
"That is enough,” said Leighton triumphantly. “The
thing is proved. This is a gold magnet. If we lived in
the Middle Ages we would call it the Philosopher's
Stone. The theory that such a substance exists has
attracted scientists who were more given to dreaming
than practical observation. In this age we have neither
looked for it nor believed in the possibility of its exist-
ence. And here it is!”
“What it make here?” demanded Miranda. “Tied
by a rope to the machine—some one use it."
The inference, logical enough, certainly, increased
Leighton's excitement. That the magnet was known and
used by the inhabitants of the cave—if there were inhab-


192
THE GILDED MAN
itants—was evident. Under certain conditions a bar of
metal that could attract gold with such force as that
displayed by the Black Magnet would be of untold value.
Here, where there were no evidences of mining opera-
tions, and attached to this primitive machine, it was dif-
ficult to explain what it was actually used for.
Leighton, more and more mystified, determined that
the best way to solve the puzzle was to operate the ma-
chine in the manner indicated by its structure. It was
not, as he pointed out—but as they in their first excite-
ment imagined—a gallows. Instead, it was a winch, built
in the most simple and archaic fashion; and as the Black
Magnet was attached to it, the evident purpose was to
hoist that huge body from the ground. Before testing
this theory, Mrs. Quayle, who had recovered from her
collapse sufficiently to join the others, insisted that her
jewelry should be released from the magnet. Suspicious
of the intentions of some of her companions, she was
determined to regain possession of her treasures at once.
But, as it was apparently impossible to wear her jewelry
with comfort, or even safety, in the immediate vicinity
of the Black Magnet, necklace, brooch and bracelets were
removed to a distant corner of the corridor and there
placed beneath a pile of stones. This done, the four
men started to work the two long handles of the winch.
At first these were turned with difficulty, the resistance
proving, at least to Leighton's satisfaction, that the
machine had not been used for a long time. Gradually,
however, the coil of liana was transferred from the
ground to the transverse beam overhead until it pulled
taut with the magnet beneath. .
Then came the real trial of strength. The magnet


THE BLACK MAGNET
193
wouldn't budge. Miranda puffed and grumbled over
the task, declaring it impossible. The rest stopped and
rubbed their arms ruefully. But Leighton was inexor-
able. Encouraging the others, and keeping them at it,
by dint of increased exertion—to which Una brought
additional assistance-the great Black Magnet was
finally dragged from its moorings and held suspended
just above the ground. It formed a perfect cylinder,
about four feet long by a foot and a half in diameter, and
must have weighed, they estimated, considerably over a
ton—ten tons, vowed Miranda. On a winch of modern
design this weight would not have been difficult to lift.
But the hoisting apparatus they were using lacked the
ordinary adjustments for counterbalancing such weights;
hence, the muscular force needed proved no small
matter.
“It take twenty men to lift this magnet," growled
Miranda.
“Twenty men could do it more easily than four men
and a woman, undoubtedly," replied Leighton. “But
four can do it.”
And he was right. Inch by inch the magnet rose from
the ground-for what ultimate purpose was not very
clear, any more than that it was thought necessary by
Leighton, in order to discover the use to which this
strange bar of metal had been put, first to test the appli-
ance obviously intended to bring it into action. It
reached a height of one foot from the ground, then two,
then three feet; then it stopped. There were groans and
smothered imprecations, and it looked very much as if
the huge bar of metal would come crashing down to the
ground again. But the men, urged on by Leighton, did


194
THE GILDED MAN
not give in. And then—there was a grating noise, as
if some hidden mechanism in the scaffolding had been
set free. After which a strange thing happened. The
transverse beam at the top of the windlass detached itself
from one of the uprights supporting it and, using the
other upright as a fulcrum, slowly swung to the wall of
the cave, where it rested in a socket, bringing the magnet
that was suspended from it, directly over a shelf-like
projection beneath.
“Keep on! Keep on!” cried Leighton encouragingly.
“Now we will see.”
Thoroughly aroused, the others redoubled their exer-
tions. The magnet remained stationary for a few sec-
onds, the liana supporting it tightening with every revo-
lution of the drumhead at which the men were labor-
ing. Then it slowly disappeared downward, the liana
uncoiling itself, thus reversing the movement that before
had carried it upward. There was a gradual increase
in the momentum of its descent, followed by the splash-
ing sound caused by the impact of a heavy body upon
the surface of a pool of water; after which the liana was
paid out until it reached its full length—when it sud-
denly slackened and came to a full stop.
“There, Mrs. Quayle, is your water," announced
Leighton.
“Water!” sneeringly echoed a voice from the dark-
ness behind them. "Say, rather, there is the secret of
Guatavita!”
“Raoul Arthur!” exclaimed the others.
Letting go the handle of the windlass, they rushed to
the spot where the Black Magnet had vanished. There,


THE BLACK MAGNET
195
at one side of the rocky projection, stood Raoul, pale
and haggard, the light in his lamp extinguished.
"I suspected this,” he said, as if his sudden reappear-
ance among them were the most natural thing in the
world. "I knew from the direction of the path that it
led back to the lake. I have been trying to reach this
place for years. Oh, yes! I had heard something about
it before—I don't deny that. But, of course, I expected
to stay by you. So, when you started to leave the cave
I came back, expecting to rejoin you. As I was exam-
ining the machine I was attacked by two men, thrown
to the ground and left unconscious. I came to myself
a few minutes ago—in time to congratulate you, it seems,
upon solving the mystery of the cave.”
"That is strange," said Leighton coldly. “You left
us, without a word, at a time when you were needed.
The attack that you say was made upon you we should
have heard. But—we have heard nothing.”
"Believe me, or not, as you like; it is true," was the
sullen reply.
“Why do you say we have the secret of Guatavita?”
“Look!"
Raoul pointed to the projection in the wall behind
which the Black Magnet had disappeared. It was not a
shelf, as they had at first supposed, but the opening of
a shaft, or well, that slanted downward at an angle that
in the course of fifty feet, or less, would reach consid-
erably beyond the vertical line of the cave's wall. In
shape this shaft was oblong, slightly larger in length and
in breadth than the Black Magnet. It was evidently
of artificial origin, its four walls being perfectly smooth
and without irregularities of line. Even by one who had


196
THE GILDED MAN
not seen the magnet descend into this shaft, its intended
use as a sort of runway for raising and lowering heavy
bodies would be quickly recognized. But where it led
to was another matter. One thing was easily discovered:
where it reached a point some twenty feet below the
level of the cave's floor the shaft was filled with water.
Beyond this, of course, nothing could be made out. It
was to the bottom of the pool thus indicated that the
magnet had plunged.
"It is a well hewn out of the rock by Indians or per-
haps by Spaniards digging for gold,” said Leighton.
“I believe that we are the first white people who have
ever stood in this place,” said Raoul; then added, "unless
David Meudon was here three years ago.”
“But what is it about?" demanded Miranda impa-
tiently. "What for is the magnet, and this well, and this
machine?"
"Pull up the magnet and see for yourself," was the
laconic reply.
“Carambal That will be impossible," protested the
doctor, not relishing the prospect of another turn at the
machine.
"It is the logical thing to do," agreed Leighton.
The rest shared Miranda's aversion to another bout
at the winch; but Leighton, backed by Raoul Arthur,
finally persuaded them that their only hope of escape
from the cave depended on keeping at this puzzle until
they had solved it, and that the first step in this direc-
tion was to hoist the Black Magnet from its watery rest-
ing place at the bottom of the shaft. Reluctantly obeying
the command, they again seized the long handle of the
windlass. This time it was fortunate they had Raoul


THE BLACK MAGNET
197
to help them, since the resistance offered by the magnet,
which now had to be hauled up an inclined plane by means
of a rope nearly one hundred feet in length, was consid-
erably greater than before. The windlass creaked and
trembled as revolution after revolution of the drumbead
slowly brought the great black bar of metal nearer to
the surface. They could hear the far off swirl of the
water as the ascending liana vibrated through it. Min-
utes that seemed to lengthen into hours passed without
appreciable result. Then, at last, they heard the water
rising as the magnet reached the mouth of the shaft.
There was an additional strain on the liana, followed by
the noise of a commotion in the subterranean pool as the
liquid streams poured back from the emerging body.
But still the end to their work was not in sight. With
every turn of the handle the weight of the body at which
they were pulling seemed to increase. Mrs. Quayle, sole
spectator of what was happening, watched the opening of
the well with dismal apprehension, convinced that some
dreadful transformation had taken place in its hidden
depths. When the top of the magnet finally rose into
view she shrieked hysterically. To her notion the great
black body had an uncanny look; it had turned into
a devil, for aught she knew, filled with evil designs
against them. Anything that was supernaturally hor-
rible, she believed, could happen in this cave—and there
was enough in her recent experiences, indeed, to give
some color to her belief.
But, devil or djinn, the water dripped and splashed
in sparkling runlets from the shining body of the Black
Magnet that had gained in luster since its submersion in
the well. It seemed more alive than before, more capable


198
THE GILDED MAN
of exerting the mysterious force that had played such
pranks with Mrs. Quayle's jewelry. As it cleared the
top of the well the arm of the windlass to which it was
hung, as if obeying some invisible signal, detached itself
from the socket in the wall and slowly swung back into
its original position between the two uprights of the
machine. Here, as before, a reverse motion took place.
The Black Magnet was poised for a moment in the air.
It then descended to the ground, resting, finally, in the
same spot where the explorers first discovered it.
A sigh of relief escaped them. Hoisting heavy weights
was not much to their taste and they were glad the task
was over. Then they rubbed their eyes, half expecting
to see something miraculous, some sudden transforma-
tion as a result of their labors. But the Black Magnet,
except for the brilliance due to its bath in the depths
of the earth, looked exactly as it was before. This, it
must be confessed, was disappointing to those who had
been promised great rewards for toiling so patiently at
the windlass. Raoul had declared the experiment would
solve the secret of Guatavita. But they failed to see how
a wet rock—or bar of metal, whichever it might be
with mud sticking to it, had any connection with a secret.
Raoul, however, was not disconcerted. Getting to work
on the magnet, he examined minutely every inch of its
surface. At first he found nothing. Then, to the amaze-
ment of the others, he extracted from one of the large
fissures in the magnet a thin disc encrusted with the
microscopic growths that form on metals that are long
subjected to the action of water. This disc proved its
metallic nature by the force needed to release it from
the magnet. Much of the brown matter sticking to it


THE BLACK MAGNET
1991
was wiped away with a cloth, the more tenacious growth
beneath was rubbed and scraped with a sharp stone.
When the scouring was finished Raoul triumphantly held
up the disc. It was a dazzling plate of gold, thin and
flexible, rudely carved to resemble a human being. In
size it was not more than the palm of one's hand, some-
what of that shape, a trifle longer and narrower, with
a projection, intended to depict a man's head, face
and neck, like a pyramid standing on its apex, upon
which were traced in embossed lines three loops to rep-
resent the mouth and eyes, with another line running
down the middle, long and straight, to represent the
nose. The body of the figure was similarly carved-
raised lines folded over the stomach for arms, with vari-
ous loops and coils around the neck and chest, intended,
doubtless, to indicate the ornaments and insignia of
rank worn by the image or, rather, the human being or
god for which it stood. All this was done in the finest
gold tracery, which, if it lacked some of the subtleties
of the goldsmith's art as we know it, was expressed,
nevertheless, with admirable delicacy and firmness. In
the head of the figure was a round hole showing, doubt-
less, that the disc was worn as a pendant by its owner,
or was hung as a votive offering before his or her house-
hold deity.
Leighton had seen figures of like character and work-
manship in Bogota, where they were exhibited as orna-
ments worn by the ancient Chibchas. Usually they were
said to have been brought up by divers from the bottom
of Lake Guatavita. Hence, there was little doubt as
to the origin and antiquity of the disc presented to them
by the Black Magnet. But how this disc came to be


200
THE GILDED MAN
at the bottom of a well in this vast subterranean laby-
rinth was not so easily answered. If this disc was
the much talked of clew to the lost treasure of the Chib-
chas, and to all the other mysteries that seemed to crop
up at every step the further they went into this cave,
it was not an easy one to run down. And then, Miranda,
who had insisted all along that by following the direction
in which they had been going they were bound to reach
the lake, blundered upon the answer to the whole
question.
"It is Guatavita!” he said.
Of course, that was it! Herran and Leighton gasped
for a moment as they took in the idea, and then they
agreed that Miranda was right. Raoul smiled enigmat-
ically as they discussed the problem in detail.
"Well, do you understand it now?” he asked. “Have
you discovered Guatavita's secret? I wish I had known
it three years ago!” he added bitterly.
"Ah! I see I see!” shouted the doctor excitedly.
“There is the well that come out at the bottom of the
lake. Here is the magnet that go down there just when
the people throw in all the gold. And then it come back
here—and no one know except the king and his family.
So, every year, they take all the gold of the country.
Ah! they are very wise leetle fellows, those kings!”
“Then, if this is true," said Leighton meditatively;
“if this well has its outlet at the bottom of the lake, and
was made and used secretly to collect, by means of the
Black Magnet, the treasure offered by the people in the
Feast of El Dorado, to-day there is no gold left in
Guatavita.”
"If it were drained of all its waters,” remarked Raoul,


THE BLACK MAGNET
201
"I believe that the emptied basin would be found to
contain nothing more than a few stray gold ornaments
-like the one you fished up just now—that failed to
reach the Black Magnet when they were flung into the
lake centuries ago.”
"Your plans to empty the lake, then, are useless?”
“After what I have learned to-day, added to what I
have long suspected, I should say-quite useless."
“But the fabulous amount of treasure those deluded
people threw into the lake for centuries— p"
"Has all come up here, where we are standing now,
caught by the Black Magnet."
“He fish very well, this leetle stone,” said Miranda,
caressing it fondly. “He catch more, better fish than the
whole world.”
“Where is all that gold to-day?" demanded Leighton.
“Ah! Where!"
“Good heavens! What is that?”
While Leighton and Raoul were discussing the old
problem of what became of the Chibcha Empire's far-
famed treasure, the others had wandered away from the
Black Magnet and were examining some of the strange
objects in its immediate vicinity. The more familiar they
became with this portion of the cave, the more signs
they saw in it of human occupation. For one thing, the
place was honeycombed with paths, most of them radi-
ating from the shaft that sank to the bottom of Lake
Guatavita. These paths led in different directions; but
there was no way of telling whether any or all of them
had been recently used. This question was of more
immediate interest than the one connecting the cave
with the fate of the ancient Chibchas. If this cave was


THE BLACK MAGNET
203
Raoul laughed. “You are mistaken,” he said. “Noth-
ing is there now, that's certain."
They stood silently watching the dark green-and-white
figures that stretched away in closely huddled ranks be-
fore them. But they could detect nothing that answered
to Mrs. Quayle's description. There was nothing that ·
moved, nothing human, in all that glittering array of
grotesque forms. Then, there was a sharp, clinking
sound, as if the brittle point of a stalactite had been
broken off and had fallen to the ground.
"We are watched,” said Leighton in a low voice.
“Whoever they are, these people have some reason for
following us—and keeping out of the way.”
“Time to be on our guard,” said Herran in Spanish
to Miranda, who assented vehemently.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Raoul.
“Ah! You say that?" growled Miranda suspiciously.
“This is one trap of yours, then!”
The accusation added to the general alarm. Raoul
protested scornfully; but before he had time to clear
himself he was covered by two huge revolvers, drawn
simultaneously by Herran and Miranda.
"It is not so easy!” threatened Miranda, whose ex-
cited flourish of firearms endangered the others quite
as much as it did Raoul.
“Thank heaven, we have guns!” murmured Andrew,
who had produced a harmless looking pocket-knife which
he brandished ineffectively.
“This sort of thing is very annoying," said Leighton,
addressing Raoul, who began to show uneasiness.
“There's no denying that your disappearance was suspi-
cious. Then we find you here in a place that is evidently
by Herre by two be had


204
THE GILDED MAN
known and frequented by others. Your explanation is un-
satisfactory. Then, when the presence of these hitherto
invisible people is quite certain, you try to divert our
attention from them.”
"You are talking nonsense,” said Raoul disgustedly.
"You intimate that I am in league with the inhabitants
of this cave against you. That means, I must have
lured you here deliberately to do you harm. Please
remember that it was you .who planned this expedition,
and that I had not ventured in here so far before."
“Who knows! You seemed familiar enough with the
secret of the Black Magnet."
“Take us out of here, my fellow, and we believe you
are not one scamp,” said Miranda brusquely.
"I am not bound to do anything of the kind, even if
I could,” retorted Raoul. "Look out for yourselves.”
“Sol that is good,” commented Miranda. “We take
the advice. Here we can do nothing. Into Guatavita
we cannot jump through this well. Me—I am too fat!”
The bustling doctor's show of energy proved infec-
tious. He and Herran unceremoniously pocketed their
revolvers, leaving Raoul at liberty to do as he pleased,
while they looked about for a way of escape.
Since he had become suspicious of Raoul, Leighton
was inclined to trust the leadership of the two South
Americans. The latter, convinced that there was no way
out from this part of the cave, determined to go back
to the central chamber, hoping to find there the entrance
to the tunnel leading to the outside world. They hit on
this plan because they feared an ambush on any of the
labyrinthian trails leading off in other unexplored direc-
tions. The rest agreeing, they set out along the path


206
THE GILDED MAN
But there was nothing to be seen of the strange Amer-
ican whose mocking laughter they were sure, neverthe-
less, they had heard. Then the music grew louder and
louder, as if the musicians were steadily approaching in
their direction. The music itself was subtly different, in
tone and pitch, from anything played in the outside
world. The high notes evidently came from wind in-
struments, but of a unique quality and caliber. Mingling
with these notes, and sustaining the bass, were the heavy
beatings of drums of the kind still used, although deeper
and mellower, by the native Indians in their festivals.
The melody produced-if it could be called a melody
-was of an extraordinary character. Its effect, its charm
-for it had unmistakable charm—was quite impossible to
define. In some respects it resembled the monotonous
chantings peculiar to most primitive races, occasionally,
as was customary with the latter, rising and falling, whole
octaves at a time, in a wailing key. In the main, it
carried a sort of theme, emotional and inspiring, that
was far too complex to be attributed to the uncultivated
musical taste common to savagery. There was an
exultant swing to the measure, a lilting cadence that
betrayed a fine esthetic sense, a rich imagination coupled
with the simplicity and freedom that has not felt the
pressure, except very remotely, of our western civili-
zation. Such music was good to listen to—and under
ordinary circumstances the explorers would have been
content to listen and nothing more. But curiosity, and
some remnant of fear the lulling influence of the music
had not dissipated, kept them on the alert. Their fate
depended, they felt, on these musicians. They must
find out who they were before it was too late to retreat.


208
THE GILDED MAN
slender tubes, curving upward at the extremity, of a
metal that glittered and sparkled like the purest gold.
Most singular of all was the light that each of these
musicians carried. This light came from neither torch
nor lantern, but radiated in sparks and flashes from oval
disks worn, jewel-wise, on the breast. By what fuel
these incandescent fires were fed was not apparent. They
burned with a clear white brilliance, illuminating each
flowing figure with startling vividness, and filling the
beholder, ignorant of their nature, with wonder at their
admirable adaptability to the needs of a subterranean
world.
To Leighton these strange lights were much more
mystifying than all the rest of the apparition-for as
yet it was difficult to regard the approaching throng as
being anything more real than an apparition that one
expects to have vanish away almost as soon as it makes
its appearance. But these musicians, weird and un-
earthly though they first seemed when seen at a distance,
as they drew nearer, proved to be substantial, flesh-and-
blood human beings right enough. Their dark skins
and aquiline features gave evidence, for one thing, that
they were of Indian origin and not inhabitants of the
remote, invisible fairyland that they appeared to the
fervid imaginations of some of Leighton's companions.
Doubtless, argued the savant, they were a band of revel-
ers—or bandits—from the city to whom the secrets of
the cave were familiar. But where they had picked up
such extraordinary means for the illumination of their
merry-making was more than he could fathom. Lights?
They were unlike any lights he had ever heard of. All
that he could make of it was that these illuminated disks


THE BLACK MAGNET
209
belonged to the marvels of a hitherto unknown world of
science, marvels among which he counted the Black
Magnet and-possibly—that disappearing wall at the
entrance to the cave,
As these people showed no sign of hostility, the ex-
plorers began to hope that through them they would
win their way out of the cave. Certainly, they were
worth cultivating with this end in view. Hence, Miranda
and Herran looked stealthily at their revolvers and
restored them as quickly as possible to their hip-pockets,
while such a burst of confidence seized Mrs. Quayle that
she prepared and was actually seen to exhibit one of her
most ingratiating smiles for the benefit of the approach-
ing Indians, at the same time expressing in a loud voice
to Una her approval of their music.
This pleasant feeling, however, that they were about
to regain their liberty did not last long. The Indians,
although showing no unfriendliness, gave unmistakable
evidence that they meant to control the movements of
the explorers. Still playing on their trumpets and beat-
ing solemnly on their drums, they marched around them,
bowing courteously enough, but intimating at the same
time that they were acting upon a definite plan that
could not be interfered with. Somewhat dashed by
this singular behavior, which was the more difficult to
meet just because it lacked outward menace, the ex-
plorers conferred hastily together, hoping to hit on
a safe line of action. The men of the party, suspicious
of the friendly attitude assumed by the Indians, favored
immediate resistance. Their first flush of confidence in
them was gone. Herran and Miranda, especially, were
doubtful of the intentions of these strange people. From


THE BLACK MAGNET
211
rative design in embroidered gold indicated his superior-
ity in rank over his comrades. “Surely, some of us talk
Spanish.”
Having given this assurance, the speaker checked the
music and dancing of the others and stood, with the air
of one accustomed to ceremonious usage, waiting to hear
further from Miranda.
"Yes, I am doctor, famous doctor," said the latter,
bustling up to the speaker and looking him over as if he
were about to claim him for medical purposes. "I cure
thousands and thousands with my pills. But how you
know I am doctor?”
The Indian smiled, inclining his head graciously before
answering.
“Doctor Miranda is so famous every one knows him.”
Ordinarily the vanity of Miranda was easily touched,
but just now he was too suspicious to be beguiled by the
compliment.
“Caramba!” he snorted; "and who are you?”
“I am Anitoo.”
"That is not Spanish,” said Miranda sharply.
"I am not Spanish,” replied Anitoo stiffly. "I come
from an ancient race that ruled here long before there
were any Spaniards.”
“Well, Senor Anitoo—you say it is Anitoo?—that
may be. You are Indian—Chibcha Indian, perhaps-
and not Spanish, not Colombian. But what do you make
in this cave?"
Anitoo smiled broadly.
“This is the home of my people for many centuries,”
he said. “And now, suppose I ask you a question. What
do you make in this cave?”


XV
AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR
THERE is no doubt about it; Miranda had much
1 the worst of it in his tilt with Anitoo. The Indian's
point blank question as to why the explorers were in the
cave was not easily answered. The more Miranda
thought it over the less able was he to discover-or at
least explain—just that very thing: why he and his com-
panions were there. To say they were looking in a cave
on the Bogota plateau for a man who had disappeared
many miles away on the Honda road sounded rather
unreasonable, now that he looked at it from the stand-
point of a stranger; while to recall the story of foul
play that linked this place with David's disappearance
years ago seemed, under the circumstances, dangerous
even to the impetuous Miranda. So, he shrugged his
shoulders and resorted to a more evasive reply than was
his custom.
“We come for a picnic, and we want to get out-that
is all.”
Anitoo again smiled broadly, yet with the subtle sug-
gestion of holding in reserve an unuttered fund of wis-
dom that comes so naturally with the people of his race.
“That is all?"
“We look for one friend who is lost. Then, we come
212


AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR 213
with another who has gone. He is one canaille! You
have seen him?"
"Ah!” murmured Anitoo, half to himself. “What is
his name? What is he like?”
"He is one Yankee. He is called Senor Don Raoul
Arthur. He look-well, he look like this ” and
Miranda gave an exaggerated example of Raoul's rolling
and twitching eyes.
"So, he is here!” said Anitoo, startled, apparently, by
the information and amused by the grotesque lesson in
optics given by the doctor. Miranda, on the other hand,
gathered that Anitoo disliked Raoul—and this pleased
him immensely. But he could get nothing more from
the Indian who, although still friendly, began to show
signs of impatience, talking earnestly to his followers in a
language unintelligible to Miranda and Herran.
On both sides there was evident uneasiness; and when
Anitoo, in a tone that sounded disagreeably like a com-
mand, told the explorers that they could not continue
their tour of the cave unattended by them, things seemed
to come to a climax. Miranda expostulated, the others
grumbled and talked of resistance. But Anitoo was in-
flexible, insisting, all the while, that there was nothing
unfriendly in his attitude. He reminded them that they
could not possibly find their way out of the cave without
his guidance. Miranda jumped at this hint of a rescue,
but was again unable to extract a definite promise from
Anitoo.
“We will first show the Senores some of the wonders of
the Guatavita kingdom," said the smiling Indian.
"We don't want to see any more," said Miranda em-
phatically. “We have seen enough."


214
THE GILDED MAN
“No! No!” continued Anitoo. “Whoever comes so
far as this must see our queen before he goes away.”
“A queen! A kingdom in a cave! But that is im-
possible!”
“I like his offer," interposed Leighton, who under-
stood enough to catch the meaning of this strange pro-
posal. “Anitoo seems honest. We have lost our way.
If he has a queen and a kingdom to show us, they may
be worth seeing. We can be no worse off, certainly, for
seeing them.”
"Once in the land of goblins and fairies," remarked
Una, “queens and kingdoms are a matter of course."
"It is some idle mummery, I suppose,” added Leigh-
ton; "we are too near civilization for anything else. All
the same, these lanterns or whatever you call them-
that they carry, are worth knowing more about.”
“What are they?”
"I would give a good deal to know."
“Well, Senor," said Anitoo impatiently, "you will come
with us?"
Without waiting for Miranda, who seemed reluctant
to place himself in the Indian's power more than he could
help, Leighton bowed assent.
“And this Senor Arthur?” inquired Anitoo.
“He has gone,” replied Miranda promptly.. "He will
not come again.”
"Perhaps," said Anitoo vaguely.
At his signal the Indians lifted the curved trumpets
to their lips, the drums were beaten and, to the same
curious spirited music that had heralded their approach
-half march, half dance—they moved off, the explorers
in their midst, down the path flanked by the forest of


AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR 215
stalactites, to the great entrance chamber whence, after
finishing their hasty meal, the “picknickers” had first
started on their journey of discovery.
The friendly bearing of Anitoo and the other cavemen
did not fail to impress the explorers favorably, dispelling
whatever suspicions they might have had in the begin-
ning, and giving them a taste of real enjoyment in their
adventure. All had this feeling of security except
Miranda and Herran. The two South Americans, how-
ever, were less easily moved. Instead of sharing Una's
and Mrs. Quayle's admiration of the picturesque appear-
ance of their guides, they grumbled something to the effect
that it was a lot of meaningless foolery. This skep-
tical attitude grew to open disapproval when, having
reached the central rock where they had taken their
meal in the main cavern, the Indians, instead of proceed-
ing toward the entrance to the tunnel that had been so
mysteriously lost, kept on in the opposite direction. This
meant that they were now to explore an entirely new,
unknown region; and the possibilities that awaited them,
with such uncommunicative guides, in the gloomy depths
that stretched before them, stirred up something of a
mutinous spirit in the two South Americans. But their
protests were futile. Without halting his rhythmic march,
Anitoo smiled courteously at their objections, merely re-
peating his intention of taking them to "the queen.”
As this was all he would say, they were compelled to
make the best of the vague indication of the course they
were following. The others continued to enjoy the oddity
of the adventure. The enlivening strains of music, the
gala costumes of the Indians—all seemed part of a curi-
ous carnival the purpose of which was unknown to them.


216
THE GILDED MAN
The novelty was kept up by the strange scenes through
which they were passing; it reached its climax at the
further wall of the great central chamber.
So far, the natural features of the cave had absorbed
their attention; now they were confronted with a series
of Titanic specimens of human architecture as amazing
in design as they were unexpected. It is misleading,
perhaps, to describe this architecture as the product of
human genius, because in line, material, and general plan
it followed closely the pattern and the workmanship of
the cave itself. Man had here adopted the half finished
designs of nature and completed them in a way that car-
ried out his own ends. Thus, the gradually widening
trail followed by Anitoo and his band of musicians made
toward a great archway that swept upward in a glistening
half circle of white stone. In the center of this rounded
arch, twenty-five feet from the ground, gleamed a huge
round tablet upon whose smooth white surface could be
distinguished a series of engraved characters. These
characters, outlined in gold, were immediately recognized
by General Herran as similar in design to the picture-
writing, presumably of Chibcha origin, that covered a
rocky promontory rising above one of the foothills skirting
the Bogota tableland.
The mighty portal to which this tablet formed the key-
stone, was only partially the work of man. Here the
elemental forces that originally hollowed out the great
central chamber through which the explorers had passed,
had encountered a granitic rock effectually resisting their
ravages. Hence, the narrowing of the passage-way to
the diameter of the half-circle described by the white
arch, and hence the opportunity that had been seized by


AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR 217
an aboriginal race of men to complete and embellish what
nature had so nobly planned. The sides of the arch
rose in majestic columns, shaped and smoothed to the
semblance of such pillars as those used in the massive
temples of ancient Egypt; and, still bearing out this
similarity, each of these pillars stood at the head of a
long row that stretched away indefinitely in the darkness
beyond. The curve of the arch overhead had also fol-
lowed the simplest of lines, but with so glowing a sym-
metry that the beholder yielded to the conviction that
here, whether of Nature's design or Man's, he stood on
the threshold of a realm wherein were garnered treasures
of art and science unique in the world's history. Besides
the golden characters engraved on the keystone of this
gigantic portal there was but one attempt at sculptural
adornment. This was the rudely carved head of a con-
dor, made to curve downward from the central tablet of
the arch, as if the sleepless duty had been given to this
winged monarch of the Andes of inspecting all who passed
beneath its lofty eyrie.
Before this imposing structure the explorers paused in
astonishment. Anitoo smiled, somewhat disdainfully,
and signed to them to enter. This they were loath to
do until they could learn more definitely whither the
cavemen were leading them.
"Senores,” remonstrated Anitoo, "when you were lost
in this cave, I came to your rescue. Now, you must
follow me.”
“That is very good,” said Miranda irritably. “We
have enough of this cave. We want to go out.”
“Follow me,” persisted Anitoo.
“You take us out?"


218
THE GILDED MAN
“I take you to the queen,” he retorted.
“Why we go to your queen? We make nothing with
your queen.”
“Ah, but perhaps she make something with you."
“Caramba! What she make with me?”
“You will see.”
The explorers looked at each other helplessly. One
thing was evident—the Indians had no intention of part-
ing with them. But they could not tell whether they
were hostile or friendly. They were not treated as cap-
tives; but they felt that any attempt to escape would be
quickly frustrated. They were too far outnumbered by
the cavemen to make resistance possible. Leighton there-
fore decided that there was nothing for it but submission.
Upon this the Indians gave a grunt of satisfaction, and
Anitoo signaled to advance, pointing upward to the Sign
of the Condor.
But the signal came too late.
Out of the darkness, from the portion of the cave they
had just left, rose a yell of defiance, followed by a flight
of arrows and a volley of pistol shots. Running towards
them, but still a good distance off, they could see a
huddle of figures, dimly lighted by a few torches of wood,
interspersed with lanterns similar to those used by the
explorers. There was no time to make out who the
enemy was. Evidently they planned to carry things be-
fore them by the swiftness of their attack, hoping to
catch the cavemen off their guard. They went at it pell-
mell, discharging their missiles as they ran-but with
deadly enough aim nevertheless. One Indian of Anitoo's
party fell, struck down by an arrow. His comrades, en-
· raged by this, formed a close line of battle around him,


AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR 219
taking, as they did so, from the folds of their togas cer-
tain innocent looking objects, apparently long metal tubes,
which they pointed at their assailants. The explorers
failed to recognize these implements at first; then, as the
Indians put them to their mouths, they realized that they
were nothing more nor less than blowpipes, weapons used
to-day only by the most primitive races. But the cave-
men handled these weapons skillfully, pouring a goodly
shower of darts into the turbulent throng advancing to
meet them. As the hail of arrows and shooting of pis-
tols continued, however, it was evident that the damage
inflicted by the blowpipes was not enough to check the
approach of the enemy, who exceeded the cavemen in
numbers and were anxious to engage them at close quar-
ters. This Anitoo determined to prevent. Shouting to
his men, he urged them to retreat within the archway be-
fore which they were fighting, a command they refused
to obey, infuriated as they were by the loss of several of
their number. Their assailants, steadily pressing on,
were soon near enough to give the cavemen the desired
opportunity. Blowguns, bows and arrows were cast
aside, and they jumped into a hand-to-hand fight, with
short pikes and such weapons as chance provided.
It was then that the explorers seemed to reach the
utmost limit of their misfortunes. Except for Andrew's
pocket-knife and the revolvers of Herran and Miranda,
they were without weapons, and thus practically defense-
less in the thick of a combat that at every moment
gained in intensity. They were bewildered by the flash-
ing lights of the torches, and kept getting in the way of
Anitoo's men at the most inopportune times. Naturally,
General Herran, as the only one among them who had


222
THE GILDED MAN
ceivable promptness—and to any one who might be look-
ing on it must have appeared that the enemy had over-
thrown this little group of people before them with one
well directed discharge of their weapons.
In the kind of warfare that now was raging, Anitoo's
cavemen, on account of their lack of numbers and deficient
training, were unquestionably getting the worst of it.
Their white togas, and the flashing lights that they wore,
made their escape difficult; obviously it would have fared
badly for them if they had been left to fight their battle
out alone. But Anitoo was taking no unnecessary
chances. Fearing for his own men from the very first,
he had dispatched a messenger into that unknown region
of the cave lying beyond the Condor Gate. There was
more, indeed, than the fate of his own men at stake. He
knew that the majority of the enemy were of his own
race, and that with them were associated two or three
men from the outside world whose presence there,
under such circumstances, proved the existence of a for-
midable conspiracy against that subterranean realm, of
which he had spoken vaguely to the explorers, and to
which he belonged. The cavemen he had with him, al-
though brave enough, were undisciplined and without
military experience. They could make but a poor de
fense against an attack directed by leaders trained in the
rough school of the guerilla. All this Anitoo knew, and
the reinforcements for which he had sent arrived barely
in time to save his little party from being completely
wiped out. But, fortunately for him, they did arrive
in time. With a confused din of war cries and trumpet-
ings, a flash of mysterious torches, waving of banners,
brandishing of pipes and blowguns, a body of men, sud-


AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR 223
denly appearing out of the dim recesses of the cave,
rushed, several hundred strong, upon the encircling
throng of invaders. The result was decisive. The
rebels, with victory almost in their grasp, were quickly
surrounded, many of them killed, while the few who
failed to make their escape were taken prisoners.
Among the latter was one who had played a leading
part in the attack. He was unarmed, his clothes were
torn, an ugly thrust from a pike had slashed across his
face. But his bearing was undaunted; the dejection of
the vanquished was lacking in the composure with which
he regarded Anitoo, before whom his captors led him.
“Well?” he asked scornfully.
"I expected you, Don Raoul,” said Anitoo.
The other laughed contemptuously.
“Why are you here?” demanded Anitoo.
“That is a long story. For one thing, your people are
tired of living like bats in the dark. With the help of
Rafael Segurra, your one great man, I promised to free
them.”
"Instead, Segurra is killed and you are a prisoner.”
“Ah! your muddle-headed rabble have killed him, have
they? But, where are my American friends?” he asked
abruptly.
“They are here. One of them, I think, was killed.
But he was a Bogotano."
"I don't see them.”
For the first time Anitoo showed amazement. He
called to his men, he looked in every possible and impos-
sible place. The explorers were nowhere to be seen.
Their disappearance, moreover, was complicated by the
fact that after the retreat of Anitoo's men, the great


224
THE GILDED MAN
portal under the Sign of the Condor had been closed.
By this means the outer region of the cave had been shut
off, thus preventing the escape of any of the combatants
in that direction. As the Americans were not now in
sight, it seemed probable that they were on the other
side of the stone gateway—although there was a faint
possibility that they had sought safety in the unexplored
portion of the cave whither Anitoo had been leading
them. Either way, their disappearance was certain, nor
could Anitoo find out anything definite about them from
his men. A few, indeed, remembered seeing them dur-
ing the fight, and recalled Herran's charge, his subse-
quent fall, and the swift vengeance brought upon his as-
sailant by Miranda. One man declared that they had
all been killed; but as this was quite improbable, and as
the statement was uncorroborated, it was promptly put
aside as unworthy of belief. The whole thing was very
vague. As a matter of fact, every one had been too
absorbed in the defeat of Segurra and his men to look
after the explorers. Doubtless the latter, it was said,
had succeeded in retreating into the darkness of the outer
cave. In doing this, it is true, they ran the chance of
falling into the hands of Segurra's men—in which case
they would have been recaptured by Anitoo.
One strange feature of their disappearance was that
the body of Herran had apparently vanished with them.
Anitoo remembered the exact spot where the explorers
had been stationed during the battle and, consequently,
where Herran had fallen. But now, neither living nor dead
explorers could be found. It seemed incredible that
these people, two of them women, would have hampered
themselves in their flight with the body of a dead man.


AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR 225
And yet, there was the evidence of eyewitnesses to the
killing of Herran; there was the spot where he had fallen
-and as the body was not there now, it was practically
certain that the explorers had carried it away with them.
In this case they could not have gone very far. As
Anitoo was particularly anxious for their capture, and
believing that they had returned to the outer cave, where
they were in danger of being attacked by what was left
of Segurra's men, he sent most of his troops after them,
remaining behind with Raoul and a few others until their
return.
"It was to get those strangers and bring them to our
queen,” he said, "that I came out here."
“Well, you have lost them,” sneered Raoul. “But
you have me. Why not take me to your queen?”
The two men looked at each other in silence. A faint
smile lighted Anitoo's usually immobile features.
"Yes,” he said; "at last you will reach the place you
have plotted against for so many months. But it will
do you no good.”
"Don't be too sure of that,” growled Raoul. "I want
to see your queen- "
"You shall see her. But what can you do? Your
friend, Segurra, the first traitor to the Land of the Condor,
is dead. Your men are defeated "
"Not all!” shouted Raoul. “Look around you!"
With those who knew him Anitoo enjoyed a reputation
for astuteness that had led to his being chosen for the
command of the diminutive army considered necessary
for the defense of the Land of the Condor. He was
valiant, absolutely trustworthy. But he was accustomed
to deal only with simple problems, with people of com-


AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR 227
Raoul snatched the torch from the dead man's tunic
and waved it above his head.
“You will be free men now," he cried, "not miserable
bats in a cave!”
Those of his hearers who understood his words, spoken
in Spanish, repeated them to the others in their own
language. There was wild cheering, in which the two
followers of Anitoo joined-amazed at their leader's fate
—and then a rush for the great gateway. But this im-
pulsive movement of his men did not agree with Raoul's
hastily conceived plan of conquest. Delighted by his
easily won victory, coming to him in the very hour of
defeat, he had no mind to leave Anitoo's hostile troops in
his rear-especially as he heard them approaching from
the outer cave, and could even catch the first glimmer of
their torches.
“Stop!” he commanded. “We need these men. Bet-
ter to have them friends than enemies. They will come
with us. Some of you warn them—tell them what has
happened.”
His followers, halted in their eager flight, looked at
Raoul in amazement. Then, hurriedly repeating to each
other what he had said, they suddenly broke into another
cheer, while two of their number, in obedience to Raoul's
orders, ran towards the approaching troops.
At first the two rebels were met with a flourish of
pikes and angry cries that boded ill for their safety.
When they succeeded in making themselves heard, how-
ever, explaining what had happened and pointing to the
dead body of Anitoo in confirmation of Raoul's victory,
the cavemen checked their hostile demonstrations, look-


AT THE SIGN OF THE CONDOR 229
rose to their feet and all, at a signal from their leader,
swept forward to the great gateway, shouting as they
ran-
“To the queen! To the queen!”


XVI
NARVA
TO return to the explorers, left prostrate on the field
1 of battle, it must be recorded that, for once in his
career, Miranda, after his first taste of active fighting,
and seeing how the fortunes of the day were going against
them, repressed his natural impulsiveness and developed
a prudence and caution that would have become a general
seasoned in strategy.
“For me it is not good to be here,” he whispered
sepulchrally to his companions as they lay face down-
ward about him. “We cannot fight. We have no guns.
We will be kill. We must go!”
It was a good summary of the situation. Every one
agreed to it, so far as their constrained positions would
permit an exchange of opinions; but how to act on
Miranda's obviously excellent plan was not clear. If
they got on their feet again, they would probably
be shot_and even if the enemy failed to bring them
down right away, they could not make up their minds
in which direction to make their escape. To retrace their
steps into the depths of the outer cave would bring them
between two fires and, aside from other tragic possibili-
ties, would certainly arouse the suspicions of Anitoo and
his cavemen. To seek safety in the other direction,
to pass within the section of the cave guarded by the
230


NARVA
231
Condor Gate, was to court unknown dangers in a region
that loomed dark and mysterious enough. It was this
latter course, however, that Miranda chose.
“This Anitoo take us to his queen,” he argued. “Per-
haps she is good woman. It is better we go alone. Senor
Anitoo, he come after."
So they made up their minds to set out at once in
search of this unknown queen. She might, or might not,
be friendly. But anyway, she would be better than lying
on one's stomach between two opposing rows of fighting
men. Luckily for the carrying out of their plan, they
had extinguished their torches. They were thus in com-
parative darkness, hidden alike from friend and foe.
Indeed, if any one had been able to see them in their
present prostrate position they would have been taken
for dead, and escaped further notice. This view of the
situation becoming clear to Miranda, he cautiously raised
his head and peered into the darkness before him. A
few feet farther on he could dimly make out the body
of the huge caveman who had fallen before his revolver
a few moments ago—and at the side of the caveman lay
his victim, General Herran. The sight stirred Miranda's
grief for the loss of his friend to a fresh outburst, leading
him to abandon, with one of those impulsive changes
characteristic of him, his plans for escape.
“Ah, Caramba!” he wailed, with the nearest approach
to tears he had ever been guilty of; "he was one great
hero! He was a man! I not leave him! He die for
me!”
And then he fell to stroking his friend's face-wet from
the blood pouring from his wounds, as he supposed
caressing him somewhat roughly, indeed, in the vehe-
mel and thed pOUT SOMET


232
THE GILDED MAN
mence of his grief, and absent-mindedly tugging at his
great beard, as he had so often seen the General do him-
self. The more he pondered his loss, the more doleful it
appeared to him; and this feeling grew until he reached
such a pitch of pathos that he resolved never to leave
Herran, dead or alive. Better to die right there with
him, he said, than to abandon his mortal remains to the
canaille who had killed him.
These lamentations and melancholy vows, however,
aroused some feeble objections among Miranda's com-
panions, who were growing restless in their uncom-
fortable positions, and saw no relief in the idea of staying
indefinitely where they were. But Miranda paid no
heed to what they said, except to growl out an expletive
or two between his wails of grief, and to stroke his fallen
hero's face with an increased vigor of affection. And
then, in the midst of this lugubrious occupation, he sud-
denly jumped to his feet, regardless of whatever lurking
enemy there might be near him, and started capering
around Herran's body.
“This hero, he is not dead!” he cried in a sort of
whispered ecstasy. “When I rub the nose of him-
Carambal—he try to breathe! And he cough and say
some words in Spanish!”
It was fortunate that the darkness was deep enough
to hide Miranda from observation, else his dancing figure
and the gestures of delight with which he accompanied
this announcement would have brought upon him more
attention from the enemy than might have been to his
liking. Another fact in his favor, besides the darkness,
was that the fighting had drifted away from this corner
of the cave, leaving the explorers quite alone, in an ob-


NARVA
233
scurity that shrouded them from danger, but that still
revealed to them enough of the outlines of the cave in the
distance to show them where they were and how they
might best steer their way in safety through the Condor
Gate, as Miranda had at first proposed. And now all
were eager to corroborate the extraordinary news that
Herran was still alive.
True to his professional instincts, Miranda plumped
down on his knees at the General's side, and commenced
a series of probings, pummelings and rubbings in his
search for wounds, mortal or otherwise. He worked
with his usual feverish haste, and it was not long before
his activities drew from Herran protests that became
more and more distinct and emphatic. Then Miranda
remembered that he had seen the caveman's club descend
upon the General's head, so that if there were any
wounds to be attended to they would be in that part of
his anatomy and nowhere else. And there, sure enough,
under Herran's battered hat and his smashed miner's
lamp, was a massive lump that testified to the magnitude
of the blow that had crumpled him up. Indeed, had it not
been for the hat and the lamp, serving in this case as a
buffer, even Herran's iron skull must have yielded under
the weight of the caveman's attack.
At first Miranda thought that the skull surely was
fractured, and thereupon investigated the lump on top
of it. This he did with so much earnestness and nicety
of detail that he was soon rewarded by a series of such
vigorous oaths and threats as to leave no doubt in his
mind of his victim's ability to look out for himself.
"He's all right, this General of Panama!” he exclaimed
gleefully. "His brains is not smashed. But perhaps he


234.
THE GILDED MAN
have a headache. Soon he fight again. And now we go
to the queen.”
The subject of these optimistic assurances sat up with
a groan, blinking his eyes savagely at his companions,
who were now crowded around him, and wiping disgust-
edly from his face some of the kerosene oil that had
trickled down from the mangled miner's lamp, and that
Miranda had first taken for Herran's blood.
"Now, we go—we fly!” urged Miranda, his mind com-
pletely absorbed again in the problem of extricating him-
self and his companions from the dangers of the battle-
field. “They not see us. We save our life and go to
this queen. You are all right, General—is it not so?”
he added impatiently.
The other looked at him venomously and groaned.
Then, shaking himself, like a dog who has been tempo-
rarily worsted in a rough-and-tumble fight, he got to his
feet and staggered along for a few paces.
“Yes, Carambal I am all right,” he said in Spanish,
with painful sarcasm. “It is a headache, as you say,
that is all! Let us go!”.
“That is good! Come!” grunted Miranda approv-
ingly.
At first Herran was somewhat uncertain of his footing.
But Miranda helped him until he got over his dazed
feeling sufficiently to walk alone. Then they all fol-
lowed along, single file, skirting the edge of the dark-
ness, beyond which they could dimly see the cavemen
fighting, but without being able to tell how the fortunes
of the battle were going, and making for the Condor
Gate as quickly as they could. Once beyond that point
they would be relieved, they thought, at least temporarily,


NARVA
235
from the inconveniences of a battle in which most of
them had been forced to play the part of target only.
Having passed this danger zone, they would set about
placing as generous a distance as possible between them-
selves and their warlike companions. Further retreat,
it is true, meant the abandonment of the outer cave for
a venture into realms whither Anitoo had been conduct-
ing them, practically as captives, to an unknown fate.
But the situation left them no alternative. Everything
depended on their finding the queen—and then, having
found her, their fate depended on the kind of woman she
might be.
“A great thing this,” muttered Leighton to himself;
"at my age to be in the power of the queen of a race of
cavemen!”
“They are good peoples,” remarked Miranda dubiously.
"I trust Anitoo,” declared Una. "His queen will pro-
tect us.”
“She will behead us!” exclaimed Mrs. Quayle, whose
spirits were hopelessly flustered by the uproar of battle
that resounded through the cave. “Queens always be-
head people. Why did we ever come into this frightful
place? We can never escape.” .
"Do be quiet, woman!" commanded Leighton, who did
not care to hear his own thoughts voiced in this manner.
“Hold the tonguel" growled Miranda savagely.
“We have escaped already,” said Una soothingly. “I
believe this path will take us out of the cave.”
“Caramba! that is so," agreed Miranda delightedly.
"It is change and there is some light.”
“Yes, there actually is some light,” said Leighton.
“But—where does it come from?"


NARVA
237
“It is one big fire ” said Miranda.
“A bonfire,” interjected Andrew.
“- and when we come there we will see.”
Pressing on along this path, the light steadily increased,
although revealing to the explorers nothing of its origin.
They could walk now at a fairly round pace, and as their
range of vision extended their attention was completely
taken up in a study of the strange objects to be seen in
the unknown world about them.
Great walls of white basalt, veined with broad bands
of glistening emerald, towered on either side, reaching up
to a crystalline roof that spread forth, far as eye could
reach, at an altitude scorning the limitations of human
architecture. The irregularities of the outer cave, with
its rough bowlders and piles of fallen débris, its dark
masses of shapeless sandstone, was exchanged here for
forms of marvelous symmetry, fashioned, one could but
imagine, for the enjoyment of a race of beings to whom
the majesty of beauty must be an ever-living reality.
Seen by the explorers, in the wavering half light that
filled the cave, the bold outlines of cliff and battlement
were softened and blended in a vague witchery of design
suggesting meanings and distances varying with the
fancy of the beholder. It was a vale of enchantments,
an Aladdin's cave, from which anything might be ex-
pected with the mere rubbing of a ring—or a lamp.
As the path broadened the walls became less precipi-
tous; on their sides objects could be distinguished that,
anywhere else, would have been taken for man's handi-
work. Tiny dwellings appeared to be carved out of
solid rock that jutted forth from dizzying heights, while
feathery forms of dwarf trees and plants, whose leaves


NARVA
239
be, however, the feeling that they had stumbled into
a region inhabited by a race of men who lived in a manner
unknown to them and who, moreover, had already given
evidence of unfriendliness towards strangers—was not
reassuring to Miranda or any of the rest of them. The
end of their adventure grew every moment more puzzling.
Since their escape from Anitoo they had not actually met
any one. Perhaps this part of the cave was not inhabited
after all. Perhaps Anitoo's talk of a queen was not to
be taken too seriously. The curious objects projecting
from the walls far above them might not be the human
dwellings that at first sight they appeared. Even the
signs of an unearthly vegetation might prove a sort of
mirage, or they might turn out to be mere specimens of
basaltic formation—fantastic enough, certainly—wrought
by the subterranean convulsions that had given birth to
this cave measureless ages ago. But the air had become
so strangely invigorating, the mysterious light so per-
vasive and even brilliant, that anything seemed possible.
This atmospheric vitality, a certain bracing quality in the
air, had been noted, indeed, among their first experiences
in the outer cave. But, compared with this that now
tingled and coursed in their veins like some conquering
elixir, the air of the outer cave was chill, dead. Here
life might germinate and be sustained—although there
lacked, as Miranda had pointed out, “the sun and rain"
to aid in these daily miracles of nature.
But it was idle to theorize, useless to harbor doubts that
led nowhere. So, they wandered on, marveling at the
strangeness and the magnitude of this underground world,
and yielding themselves, as familiarity disarmed their
fears, to the charm of it all. For there was beauty of a


240
THE GILDED MAN
rare and thrilling quality in these majestic cliffs whose
perfectly proportioned sides gleamed in all the variega-
tions of color belonging to certain kinds of basalt. Dis-
playing in structure the columnar forms peculiar to this
rock, the admirable symmetry produced easily suggested
the work of a human architect gifted in all the cunning
of his art. And now the widening space before them
disclosed unmistakable signs of the human agency they
had suspected.
They stood at the verge of a precipice. Below them
stretched a wide and comparatively level plain, vaulted
over by a crystalline canopy supported by innumerable
clusters of slender columns, and sheltering low-storied
houses, or huts, collected together in the close com-
panionship of a thriving little village. The familiar ac-
companiments of such a scene, supposing that it formed
a part of somė straggling, hospitable highway in the
outer world, were there. At the doorways of the houses
men and women stopped to talk; children played in the
vacant spaces that served for yards and streets; even
diminutive animals, that appeared in the distance to be
near of kin to the patient, ubiquitous burro, jogged
along under their burdens of merchandise. The vil-
lagers were evidently of the same race as Anitoo and his
companions, dressed like them in white flowing togas,
but lacking their indefinable charm and lordliness of
bearing. Anywhere else they would have been taken
for peasants, attired somewhat fantastically, engaged in
the most primitive occupations. Here, remote from
everything that lives under the sun, their very simplicity
was cause for wonder, if not for fear.
So far the explorers had not attracted the attention of


NARVA
241
the villagers. Where the former stood they could watch
the scene below without being observed themselves. But
they knew that this security could not last. Either they
had to go on and make themselves known, or return to
Anitoo, who by this time, possibly, was at the mercy of
Raoul and his party. They hesitated.' The problem
was a knotty one—but it was not left for them to decide.
.From an unexpected quarter came an interruption, start-
ling in some respects, that solved their difficulties—tem-
porarily at least—and seemed a promising augury that
whatever dangers confronted them they might rely on
backing, of a sort. A heavily veiled figure, bent with
age and toiling down a precipitous path from the rocky
height beneath which they were sheltered, silently ap-
proached them. At sight of this singular being, Mrs.
Quayle, not yet accustomed to this land of uncomfortable
surprises, started to run away. Her frantic efforts at
speed restored the confidence of the others and, after she
had been unceremoniously brought to order by Leighton,
the little party managed to face the newcomer with some
show of composure.
Leaning on a long staff, the descending figure, ignoring
the others, advanced towards Una, who stood by herself
beneath a low shelf of rock. Pausing within a few feet
of the wondering girl, the veil was slowly lifted, revealing
the seamed and wrinkled face and long flowing white
hair of a woman whose great age was visible in every
feature. In bygone times she would have been pro-
claimed a witch, although in her aspect there was nothing
of the malevolence tradition attributes to witches. But
there was the solemnity, the dramatic gesture of the
sibyl—a being who is supposed to rank several grades


NARVA
243
interference any word from the others. Una, on her
part, was strangely drawn to her. The odd dress, the
air of mystery that repelled the others, increased her
interest. She was impressed by her calm assumption of
authority, convinced that she was there to help them.
And then, a novel idea flashed through her mind.
"Are you the queen?" she asked abruptly.
The stern Indian features relaxed into the ghost of a
smile, accompanied by a feeble chuckle from a lean and
wrinkled throat.
"I am Narva,” she announced quietly—but whether
“Narva" was the queen she did not deign to say.
“Very well, my lady," argued Miranda, “but we want
the queen."
“Silence!" commanded Narva, turning for the first time
from Una to the others. “Come with me," she repeated.
"But why?" persisted the doctor; "what for we go
with you, my senora, unless you are queen?”
"Perhaps she is the queen,” suggested Andrew; "only
she doesn't want to say so. She didn't deny it!” a view
of the matter that met with no response.
But, queen or not, Una was ready to pin her faith to
this strange being who had accosted them in so unex-
pected a manner. It was useless even to attempt an
explanation of how an aged Indian woman, answering
to the name of Narva, inhabiting a cave in the remote
Andes, could talk English, and how it happened that she
appeared to know them—a party of distressed foreign-
ers—whom she had certainly never met before. So long
as she refused to explain—and refuse she certainly did
all this would have to remain the puzzle that it was.
But, logical or not, dangerous or not, Narva seemed to be


244
THE GILDED MAN
something very like their last hope. Her bearing,
although decidedly reserved, was not unkindly—was
even friendly—and so Una determined to follow her
without further discussion. The others scarcely shared
her confidence. Mrs. Quayle stuck to it that Narva was
dangerous, probably a witch; Leighton was still in doubt
as to her sanity. Finally, Miranda put the point blank
question
“Why we go with her?”
“Simply because we have no one else to go with, no
other plan,” was Una's prompt reply.
There was no gainsaying this. They were wandering,
without guide or clew of any kind, through a cave filled
with mysteries and dangers. On the trail behind them
were two bands of natives, absorbed in the occupation
of cutting each other's throats. From one of these bands
it was certain they had much to fear. In front of them
was a considerable body of cavemen, not at present en-
gaged in war, it is true, but who might, for all they knew,
prove unfriendly. Witch or queen, Narva volunteered
to guide them-somewhere.
"At least we must know where she intends to take us,"
declared Leighton.
“I take you from these,” said Narva, pointing in the
direction of the villagers.
“Why should we go from them?” asked Leighton.
"They kill you,” was the laconic reply.
“What bloodthirsty people they all arel” exclaimed
Andrew.
But Narva's calm statement of what was to be ex-
pected proved decisive. There remained the doubt as
to her sincerity. The timorous Mrs. Quayle scented a


246
THE GILDED MAN
vulsions, undoubtedly of volcanic origin, had rent the
solid walls of granite in two, leaving irregular chasms, of
uncertain depth, to be traversed before the smooth floor
of the valley could be reached. These chasms, where
their width demanded it, were spanned by swaying
bridges of rope or liana-and wood that proved a sore
trial to the weaker members of the party, delaying their
progress to an extent that seriously strained Narva's
patience. The old Indian was especially put out by
Mrs. Quayle, whom she contemptuously called "baby,"
and whose pathetic helplessness astride a plank over a
yawning cavern aroused in her the nearest approach to
laughter she had shown.
Under Narva's guidance, however, the difficulties of
this downward trail were overcome without mishap. The
perilous abysses, once crossed, appeared not more than
miniature dangers in retrospect; but immediately facing
them, on this plain that, at a distance, had seemed so
charming and pastoral in character, there was menace
enough for the most daring. At first sight of the in-
vaders, for so they were deemed, the villagers showed
unmistakable hostility. Dropping their various occupa-
tions with one accord, they confronted the explorers in so
threatening a manner that the latter had either to de-
fend themselves as best they might, or retreat. But
the thought of those villainous chasms, spanned by
flimsy bridges of rope, was too appalling to offer the
remotest hope of safety in flight. Anything would be
better than a return-if return were even possible over
so hazardous a path.
"We fight!” announced Miranda through clenched
teeth—and, regretting his lost revolver, he threw him-


NARVA
247
self into as warlike an attitude as his rotund figure would
permit.
This had anything but a quieting effect on the vil-
lagers. From every direction volunteers hastened to
strengthen their line of battle, and it might have fared
badly with the enterprising doctor, upon whom a concen-
trated attack resembling a football rush was about to be
launched, had it not been for the interference of Narva.
The old Indian woman, scornful at first of the excited
demonstration of the villagers, now took an active part
in what was going on. Brushing Miranda aside, she
checked the advancing mob with a torrent of angry words
that sounded like the scolding lecture of an outraged
school teacher bringing her refractory pupils to order.
As she spoke in the native language of the Indians, what
she said was totally unintelligible to those whom she was
defending. But on the cavemen the effect of her words
was immediate. The shouts ceased; the hastily formed
line of battle was broken. The angry villagers acknowl-
edged Narva's authority by every sign of submission-
sullenly given, it is true and the way was clear and free
for the "invaders” to go on.
The singular episode impressed them deeply. They
realized that they were surrounded by people who did
not want them in this underworld of theirs, and that they
were, at the same time, under the protection of a being
who, mad or inspired, was powerful enough to stand be-
tween them and danger. Who she was, or why she be-
friended them remained a mystery. On this point Narva
was as uncommunicative as ever. On occasion, as they
had just witnessed, she was capable of the volubility of
a fishwife; with them her reserve was impregnable.


248
THE GILDED MAN
"Follow me!" she commanded—and there was nothing
for it but obey. Miranda, who was the immediate cause
of the trouble, muttered maledictions on the fate that
left him at the mercy of an eccentric beldame who might
be leading them to some unthinkable witch's dance—and
the rest exhorted him to curb his warlike propensities in
the future.
Gliding ahead at a quicker pace than before, Narva
led the way along the narrow path on each side of which
stood the huts of the villagers. These huts were not
more than thirty in number, built of the rough-hewn
stone of the cave. Each, apparently, contained two, or
in some cases, three rooms on the ground floor. Roofs
they had none, a deficiency in architecture evidently with-
out inconvenience, since the great vaulted dome of the
cave furnished them with whatever protection overhead
was necessary. The whole series of little houses com-
posing the village resembled one huge, hospitable com-
munal dwelling, not unlike the ancient pueblo ruins of
Arizona, in which there was the privacy desired by sepa-
rate families, together with a close union of household
interests that is scarcely possible in settlements where
each group of individuals lives under its own rooftree.
As if further to preserve this communal manner of living,
the openings into the huts were without doors, although,
in a few instances, curtains of a heavy red material served
as doors. These curtains were adorned with thin plates
of gold, cut in primitive designs depicting various forms
of animal life. The huts so marked the explorers took
to be the dwellings either of village dignitaries, or build-
ings devoted to public uses.
There was scant opportunity to observe more than the


NARVA
249
barest outlines of this singular underground settlement,
as the pace set by Narva left no time for loitering. But
the explorers felt little desire to prolong their stay here,
although they soon forgot their fears as they noted the
sullen deference with which their mysterious guide was
everywhere greeted. The villagers retired before them
into their various dwellings, and as the little company
passed along the unobstructed street it was welcomed
with demonstrations of respect resembling the homage
accorded some eastern potentate who deigns to visit his
subjects. The change was grateful to those who a mo-
ment ago had been the objects of popular disfavor, at the
same time that it stimulated their curiosity regarding
Narva. The latter paid no heed to her surroundings,
but her progress was timed to the needs of those who
followed her. An occasional backward glance gave proof
that her interest in them, whether for good or ill, had not
abated. Talk with her, however, was impossible; and
thus the straggling little village, with its groups of
obsequious Indians, was traversed in silence.
When the last hut had disappeared in the distance
Narva turned abruptly. The path was again becoming
precipitous, and although the mysterious light with which
the cave was illumined revealed whatever obstacles were
in the way, there were dark chasms in the overhanging
cliffs that filled the timid with grim forebodings. Where
they stood the ground was level, making a little plat-
form, or square, three sides of which were unprotected
by walls. On the fourth side an arched opening in the
smooth face of a lofty tower of granite, glittering with
countless facets of crystal, served as entrance to a spa-
cious interior. Emblazoned on the keystone of this arch


250
THE GILDED MAN
was the same emblem that marked the cyclopean gateway
to the inhabited portion of the cave—the rudely carved
figure of a condor. Beneath this sculptured symbol
Narva stood for a moment regarding the others with
stern composure. Then she pointed to the shadowy
depths within.
“Enter!" she commanded.


XVII
A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL
N ARVA'S forbidding presence promised little in the
I way of cheer or warmth of welcome to her wearied
companions. The singular dwelling into which the latter
were ushered recalled, at first glance, the gloomy abode
of some medieval anchorite to whose theory of existence
anything approaching luxury was to be shunned, rooted
out, as an obstruction to the soul's growth. Whether
or not Narva's mode of living was actually based on these
mystical considerations, her home, at least, in its lack
of visible comforts, seemed the typical hermit's cell.
Here was neither superfluous ornament nor evidence of
the slightest touch of feminine grace or care. The black-
ened walls of granite rose with uncompromising abrupt-
ness, unbroken by niche or shelf, to a ceiling whose vague
outlines were lost in darkness. A truss of straw was
thrown in one corner of the apartment, and upon it was
spread a rough woolen counterpane. Three flattened
blocks of stone, placed at intervals along the walls,
served as benches; in the center a rock-table, carefully
smoothed and large enough for a banquet fairly regal in
its dimensions, rose four feet from the floor. Upon this
table, with its suggested possibilities of entertainment,
stood a large jug, curiously fashioned of a single crystal,
251


252
THE GILDED MAN
within which faintly gleamed an opalescent liquid. There
were also two stone platters, one containing heaped-up
cubes of a white substance resembling bread, and the
other certain broiled fish—they looked like fish—whose
globular bodies and reddish-blue flesh aroused misgiv-
ings, if not a more decided feeling of repugnance, among
those unfamiliar with subterranean bills of fare.
But the explorers were famished enough to attack any-
thing. The dangers they had escaped, the fatigue aris-
ing from prolonged exposure and unwonted exercise, the
bracing air of the cave, would have corrected the most
fastidious taste and made even boot-leather palatable.
But Narva's fish, notwithstanding their sickly hue, were
not to be classed, by any means, with boot-leather. After
the first wave of disgust, even the suspicious Miranda
scented a welcome repast in the dishes spread before
him, while the others were in this only too eager to fol-
low his lead. Their hostess, aware of their hunger, gave
a reassuring gesture of invitation.
"Eat!” she said solemnly; "it is for you."
They needed no second bidding. Scorning the absence
of chairs and the ordinary dishes and utensils that go
with a meal, they fell to and, with the first mouthful,
expressed approval by varying grunts and exclamations.
Even the fish was voted a delicacy of superlative excel-
lence. In flavor it recalled the sweet succulence of rare
tropical fruit, like the cirimoya, with a soupçon of spice
that gave it the fillip of a genuine culinary masterpiece.
As for the bread, it was not bread at all, but some
mysterious compound of flesh and vegetable, the nutritive
qualities of which were eagerly explained and extolled
by the ravenous doctor.


A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL
253
Una, however, was denied participation in this unex-
pected and singular feast. From the first Narva bad
shown a special interest in the girl; caused, doubtless,
by the latter's early expression of confidence in her offer
to protect them. This interest, it now appeared, had a
distinct purpose in view, which Narva lost no time in
carrying out. Satisfied that the others were provided
with the entertainment they desired, she took Una by
the hand and led her to a distant corner of the apartment.
“Will you go with me?” she asked her in a whisper.
Una hesitated. To leave her uncle and the others,
trusting herself entirely to this mysterious being, was
more than she had bargained for. Divining the cause of
her irresolution, Narva spoke reassuringly.
“They are safe,” she said. “We will come back to
them.”
Something in the older woman's manner won Una's
confidence. She felt that a way out of their difficulties
was being offered her. Hope of a still greater result
silenced her fears.
“Yes,” she said.
Then, behind one of the stone benches, yielding to
Narva's touch, a door slowly opened, revealing a narrow
passage upon which they entered.
Glancing hastily back, Una noticed that the door, a
great block of stone revolving with the utmost nicety
in grooves made for the purpose, had closed behind them.
She was thus separated from her companions and alone
with a singular being whose purpose in all this she was
at a loss to fathom. Narva's trustworthiness had ap-
pealed to her, it is true, and she had followed her leading
when the others held back. But there was an air about


254
THE GILDED MAN
Narva, suggesting the occasional freaks of one whose wits
are not of the steadiest, that might well cause anxiety
among those temporarily in her power. Just now, how-
ever, there was no sign of trouble, and Una repressed
any outward evidence of alarm she might feel. Narva,
indeed, seemed to have lost the solemn dignity she had
assumed hitherto, and became every moment more in-
gratiating, reassuring. Gently stroking Una's hand, she
stopped in her hurried walk down the corridor and, throw-
ing back the heavy veil obscuring her features, showed a
face marked by the nobility and calm of age. Its serenity
and kindliness strengthened Una's confidence.
“We will go back to them,” said Narva; “but first we
must see,” she added enigmatically.
“Why have you brought me here?” asked Una.
“Something you will see. You will help us, and then
I will help you. I knew you were coming."
The explanation, if it could be called one, increased
Una's mystification.
“You could know nothing of me. How could you
know?” she persisted. “How can I help you?”
“Ah, Narva is very old," she replied, her long bony
fingers passing through the masses of snow-white hair
that fell to her shoulders, “and with the old there is
knowledge. Long time I lived with your people, far
from here. All the years I keep the secret of this King-
dom of the Condor. No one knows—if they know they
do not dare to come. Only one-he knows, he has come.
And now, you have come. Why?”
The abrupt question was confusing. Una wondered
how much she knew, how much she dared tell her. The
inscrutable eyes fixed upon her revealed nothing. Was


A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL 255
it to learn her secret Narva had lured her away from
the others? The narrow gloomy passsage where they
stood was remote from the inhabited portion of the cave;
the door to Narya's dwelling, now that it was closed,
was not distinguishable from the rest of the wall into
which it fitted so admirably. Had Una tried, she could
not have found her way back. She was completely at
Narva's mercy--but the old Indian had shown only
friendliness hitherto, it was reasonable to suppose that
her proffer of assistance was genuine, since motive for
treachery was lacking. Impulsively reaching this con-
clusion, Una answered Narva's question without reserve.
"I have come,” she said, “because I am looking for one
who is dear to me. I think he is lost in this cave.”
“Why?" asked Narva, showing neither surprise nor
incredulity.
"Once before he disappeared, and then he was lost
here."
“When?"
“Three years ago. A man who was with him told me.
But—he is not his friend. Perhaps it is not true.”
"It is true.”
“How do you know that?" asked Una eagerly.
"I know," she replied quietly, but with convincing
emphasis.
“Then he is here! I am right. You know where he
is. You will take me to him!”
"Ah! Perhaps you will not go. You are a white
woman; you will be afraid to leave your friends and go
with me.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Perhaps this man you look for has changed. Perhaps


256
THE GILDED MAN
he will not know you. And this other, his enemy, per-
haps he is here. There will be trouble, danger."
“Take me to him!” demanded Una passionately. "If
there is danger, I should be with him. I am not afraid.
I trust you.”
“That is good,” said Narva. “Come!”
Una now became aware that the corridor down which
they were slowly walking widened out into a respectable
thoroughfare at its further end, whence it abruptly turned
and was merged in the main trail that had brought them
to Narva's dwelling. Thus, the latter, through some
labyrinthine arrangement of passages, was entered at one
place and offered an exit in an entirely opposite direction,
whence, by devious twists and turns, it came back to the
first point of approach. To Una, at least, bewildered by
the intricacies of cave topography, this seemed the ex-
planation of the course they were pursuing, although the
mysterious doubling of their tracks brought little con-
solation—especially when she realized that her uncle and
his companions were lost in the center of a maze the clew
to which completely eluded her. Anxiety for their safety
overrode, .for the moment, every other consideration;
she grasped Narva's arm with a detaining gesture, a half
uttered question on her lips. Her appeal, however, was
not answered. Like some ancient oracle, from which
has proceeded the final Pythian message, no further
revelation was to be granted. In true sibylline fashion,
with finger on lip and eyes set on some object in the
distance hidden from Una, Narva indicated that the time
for speech had passed and now it remained for them to
carry out as expeditiously as possible, the design upon
which they were setting forth. From her gesture and


A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL 257
the stealthy caution with which she advanced, Una
gathered that there were urgent reasons for maintaining
a strict silence. They might be surrounded by hostile
forces, their destination might be a secret one, or at least
a knowledge of it might involve danger to the man for
whose preservation she firmly believed they were en-
gaged. Narva, in warning her of this danger, hinted
that whatever they had to fear was in some way due to
the presence of Raoul Arthur in the cave. The enmity
of the latter to David, moreover, was full of sinister
possibilities, and the conviction that they were about to
foil the evil thus threatened nerved Una to face any-
thing.
Una would have felt a stronger confidence in their
mission, a keener enthusiasm, had Narva been more
definite as to the identity of the man to whose rescue she
believed they were hastening, or had she given some hint
of the kind of danger to which he was actually exposed.
But it was all so vague, she feared that some mistake
had been made, a mistake easily growing out of the fervid
imagination that, any one could see, quite controlled Nar-
va's mind. While there was no shaking the old sibyl's
reticence, however, the calm determination with which
she set about her task proved, in a measure, inspiring.
Una might feel an occasional doubt as to the outcome of
their venture, but this doubt finally disappeared alto-
gether before the faith, growing stronger with the chang-
ing aspect of the scene through which they were passing,
that in some unlooked-for way she was about to attain
the main object that had brought them into this ancient
home of a vanished race.
They had now entered a portion of the cave where


258
THE GILDED MAN
the dim half-light to which Una was accustomed turned,
by comparison, almost to the light of day. This light
appeared to come from a fixed point directly in front of
them. No central globe, or body of fire, to which this
appearance might be traced was visible; but, in the far
distance, where the light reached its greatest intensity,
over the top of a dark ridge of rock rising before them
like the summit of a mountain, thin streamers of white
radiance shot upward, rising and falling in the unequal
flashes and subsidences generated by an electric battery.
This luminous appearance, however, was too stupendous
in its effects to be attributable to a mere electric battery.
To Una's dazzled vision it rather resembled the first
onrush of the morning sun, when the presence of that
luminary just below the horizon is proclaimed by ad-
vancing rays of light. Here, however, an effect of
greater motion was produced than in the steady and
gradual illumination of the heavens heralding the coming
of the sun. The sparkles and flashes neither grew nor
shrank in intensity. If they were produced by a central
body corresponding to the sun that shone upon the out-
side world, it was a stationary sun, fixed in some mysteri-
ous, invisible recess of the cave.
And now the outlines of the distant mountain top be-
gan to assume a greater definiteness than before. Objects
just below this furthest summit loomed up spectrally out
of the shadows that had enveloped them; for the first
time Una realized that they were facing, not a wall of
unbroken rock, such as had overwhelmed her at every
side since leaving her companions in Narva's dwelling,
but an assemblage of majestic forms suggesting, in their
coherence and symmetrical arrangement, the towers,


A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL 259
arches, and ramparts of some ancient citadel. This
building, or collection of buildings, from their position
and commanding aspect, might well be taken as the
center of the region it so fitly dominated. Upon it con-
verged all the lines, furrows and intricate masses of
walls composing, so far as they could be included in one
comprehensive view, the architecture of the cave. Im-
mediately above it, crowning the very summit, arose a
single tower, broad at the base, and tapering until it
reached a sharp point just below the cave's jagged, over-
hanging roof. Behind this tower the light flashed and
glowed so brilliantly the shaft of stone itself seemed to
sparkle and transmit a radiance as if it were composed
of some crystalline substance.
Moved by this fairy-like spectacle Una again implored
Narva to tell her something of where they were going.
What was this cave of wonders, that no man had ever
heard of before, and into which they had stumbled by
chance? What bygone secret of the earth was it con-
nected with, what people were these who lived in it as
in a world apart from all other worlds? Who was she,
buried out of sight of all men, and yet talking to Una
in her native tongue, and seemingly so familiar with all
that concerned her? Why had she been waiting for
them, where was she taking them? But to all Una's
questions Narva vouchsafed no word of reply. Smiling
to herself, she pointed in the direction of the light-
crowned summit before them and hastened on, descending
now into a valley where they soon lost sight of the vision
that had offered so delightful a goal to their wanderings.
Narva's gesture, however, and the tendency of the path
they were taking assured Una that the distant palace-


260
THE GILDED MAN
its situation and noble architecture suggested nothing
less than a palace, the regal abode of the ruler of all this
realm of marvels—was their real destination, and it was
left to her to imagine why Narva was guiding her thither.
But the physical difficulties of the path they followed gave
her scant opportunity for speculation. Chasms they
had to cross whose depths Una would have shunned had
it not been for the promise of some great achievement
that would free them all from the dangers by which they
were surrounded. In other places the path narrowed
to a mere fissure between great walls of rock, and again
it skirted the edge of a precipice that, in normal times,
would have filled Una with horror. Moreover, there
were moments when she fancied she heard, from the dark-
ness beneath them, the shouts of a hurrying throng of
people—an impression that might well be true since she
had abundant evidence already that the cave was in-
habited by a race whose number she had no means of
knowing.
But this reminder of the presence of others in the
cave besides her own party was more disturbing to Una
than the physical obstacles and dangers immediately
facing her. These could at least be met and overcome-
but about an invisible multitude, their attitude toward
them, their purpose in apparently following them, there
was an indefiniteness that was altogether disheartening.
As a matter of fact, she had no doubt these hidden cave-
men were hostile; her previous experiences had filled her
with a vague dread in that respect. This dread, also,
was sharpened by the reflection that, in all probability,
Raoul was among them; of his active enmity, linked
in some mysterious manner with David's disappearance,


A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL 261
she now felt certain. Una tried to gain some light on
the subject from Narva; but the latter either failed to
hear the ominous sounds to which her attention was
called, or she was too intent on her present mission to
admit the consideration of other matters. This indif-
ference, whether real or feigned, had a reassuring effect
on Una. She perceived that if these invisible people,
friendly or unfriendly, were connected with them, they
would attract Narva's attention, while, if there was no
connection—a conclusion suggested by the sibyl's unruf-
fled bearing—there was nothing to fear from them.
Having reached the end of the abrupt downward slope
of the path they were following, Una rejoiced to find
herself on the level floor of a valley that, in the upper
world, would be admired for its charm and restfulness.
There were neither flower-decked meadows, it is true,
nor brook-fed woodland to diversify the scene. Sub-
terranean botany, however, has its compensations for
losses due to the perpetual absence of sun and rain.
Evidently the light from the luminous mountain had
in it some life-giving, sustaining quality, for on every
hand in this valley there were luxuriant growths of deli-
cately tinted flowers—or so they appeared—whose scent,
one imagined, filled the motionless atmosphere. Tall,
graceful forms, resembling willows, clustered along the
banks of a little stream flowing with the gentlest of
murmurs through their midst. The flinty ground was
carpeted with a pale lancet-leaved herbage that might
have been taken for grass were it not for the profu-
sion of sparkling crystals with which it was sprinkled.
These crystals glowed in varying and sometimes irides-
cent colors, showing a depth and solidity of substance


262
THE GILDED MAN
decidedly out of keeping with a purely vegetable origin.
It was this gem-like appearance of what might have
been taken elsewhere for richly flowering grasses that
led Una to suspect the reality-judged by the standards
of the world with which she was familiar-of this sub-
terranean garden. A white flower, heavily streaked with
crimson, from the heart of which long golden stamens
were thrust in a drooping cluster, hung on its stalk con-
veniently near. Except for its coloring, and a square
rather than spherical modeling of the calyx, it might
easily pass for one of the lily family. To make sure
Una plucked it. From the broken stem a tiny stream
of water bubbled out, and the flower in Una's hands
seemed to lose at once the soft shimmer of light that
had played upon its petals only a moment before. Most
extraordinary of all was the weight of the flower. Sus-
pended from its stalk, it seemed the frailest, daintiest
of objects; a blossom that the merest breeze could have
tossed about at will. But Una found it as heavy as so
much metal, or stone; and this, with the clinking to-
gether of its leaves as they were moved by her touch,
revealed the startling character of subterranean botany.
She was disappointed at first to find that this was not,
in the ordinary sense of the word, a flower at all; but
regret was quickly followed by curiosity as to the actual
nature of the strange growth she held in her hands. Its
unusual weight belied the delicacy of its outward appear-
ance; the fires that had clothed its leaves with living
tints, in dying seemed to have left behind the pallor
of ashes. Nevertheless, it retained a strange, subtle
beauty, odorless, undefinable. It might be a rare kind
of stalactite-except that a stalactite had not its soft


A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL
263
brilliancy—or a sheaf of gems, one of the many that
strewed this subterranean valley. Whatever it was, it
reminded Una, however faintly, of the glories of the outer
world—and she cherished it for this more than for its
own beauty. Narva, roused for the first time from the
spell of her own thoughts, shook her head in disapproval
of what Una had done. Evidently she questioned her
right to pluck the flower, for she motioned to her to
throw it away.
"The Queen's garden!” she exclaimed in tones of
rebuke.
As this was the first definite intimation of their where-
abouts, Una was quick to seize upon it. This mys-
terious queen, then, of whom Narva had vaguely spoken
before, was really mixed up in their present expedition.
She recalled Narva's hint that, in some way, Una was
to be of assistance to her, and she wondered whether
this meant that they were bringing rescue of some sort
to the queen, a possibility of high adventure she was
far too young not to relish. A queen, moreover, who
cultivated jewels—or something very like them—in her
garden was worthy the best flowers of romance. At any
rate, Una felt a new zest in the enterprise she was on
and began to chafe at Narva's leisurely dignity.
"It is plenty of time," said the old Indian sternly,
noting her impatience. "Have care.”
As she spoke she pointed straight ahead where the first
direct rays from the mountain peaks flashed downward
illuminating the massive building, just below the tower-
crowned summit that, at a distance, had so completely
won Una's admiration. Seen close at hand, this building
gained in beauty. Most of the cave dwellings, like the


266
THE GILDED MAN
impressiveness. And there stood the great palace before
her, with its flying condor guarding forever the descend-
ants of that mythical old zipa! Una was unable to go
back in imagination to that primeval past, especially
as it had to do with a country and a people of which she
knew nothing. But the tale itself, and the grace and
beauty of the palace about which it had been woven,
reminded her of much that she had heard and read in
other than Indian mythology and literature. Pageants
from medieval legend, with their phantom castles in
haunted forests, engaged her fancy as she listened. For
the moment she half expected to see a troop of Arthurian
knights, intent upon some mystic quest, issue forth
from the stately portal, bringing with them a flash of
vivid light and movement that as yet the picture lacked.
A zipa she had never seen, had never heard of before
-and even a condor filled a place in her imagination
that was not much more real than that occupied by the
roc, the giant bird of the Arabian tales. But neither
Christian knight nor pagan zipa was here. The silence,
now that Narva had finished her tale, was profound.
The murmur of voices, distinctly heard a short time
before, was lost in the distance. The apparent isola-
tion of a building so rich in possibilities of usefulness,
so well preserved architecturally, was its most inex-
plicable feature. Una was almost persuaded that the
palace before her was uninhabited, abandoned. If it
belonged, as Narva said, to the dim past of a vanished
race, it stood now merely as a monument to forgotten
greatness. Or-did it still serve as a refuge, a pro-
tection, to the descendants of that condor-born zipa of
Narva's legend?


A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL 267
Then, suddenly, as Una was thinking of these an-
cient, far-off things, from one of the wings of the palace
there rose the clear, high notes of a woman's voice in
a melody not unlike the one Anitoo and his band had
used for a marching song. But Anitoo's song had some-
thing of martial swing and vigor in it; this, although
wild in spirit, permeated by the chanting, wailing qual-
ity characteristic of primitive music, thrilled with strains
of passionate tenderness unlike anything Una had heard.
The words of the song were not distinguishable, nor
were they needed to convey the theme inspiring the in-
visible singer. The latter seemed to pass from joy to
despair, rising again to a solemn pitch of intensity that
partook of the dignity and earnestness of religious rhap-
sody. A pagan priest, presiding over ancient rites from
which the faithful expect a miracle, might thus have
modulated the notes of his incantation. As in all music
of the kind, the emotion portrayed was simple, unmixed
with the shadings and intellectual complexities that play
so important a part in modern song. The voice inter-
preting this emotion showed no great degree of culti-
vation. Unskilled in the nicer subtleties of the vocal
art, it depended upon a natural, unrestrained sincerity,
enriched by a birdlike clearness and resonance, for its
effects. Its plaintiveness, from the very first strains
of the ringing melody, appealed deeply to Una.
Narva, alive to the sympathetic response aroused in
her companion by the song, laid her hand gently upon
Una's arm and drew her in the direction of the distant
portion of the palace from whence, apparently, the
notes came.
“Have care, say nothing!” she repeated impressively.


268
THE GILDED MAN
Una, still absorbed by the weird beauty of the scene
and the strange legends with which it was connected,
scarcely noted the reiterated warning. Her own spirit
kindled with friendly warmth for the singer whose min-
gled joys and sorrows were so eloquently expressed.
She followed Narva almost unconsciously, eager, and
yet half afraid to reach the climax of their adventure;
fearful, likewise, lest by some misstep or imprudence of
theirs the spell of music should be broken.
No sign of life was visible in the great rambling pal-
ace that loomed high above them. The rows of lance-
olated openings, that in the distance appeared to be
ordinary windows, upon a nearer view proved to be un-
glazed or, if they were fitted with glass it was too
thick to reveal to an outsider the interior of the palace.
That some kind of vitreous substance filled these open-
ings was evident from the flashes of light reflected on
their surface. Considering the antiquity of the build-
ing, however, and the unknown methods and materials
employed by its architect, it was more likely that the sub-
stance used for windows was a crystal gathered, perhaps,
from the queen's garden—the flower from those alluring
bushes that had first caught Una's attention-rather than
manufactured glass that must have been unknown to these
Andean cavemen. Even though the first zipa was the
reputed offspring of stars or condors, it was not likely
that in building his palace thousands of years ago_to
quote Narva's estimate—he had been able to fit it with
modern improvements.
Owing to the thickness of these windows, therefore,
it was impossible to make out anything of the interior
of the apartments of the palace for which they were,


A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL 271
me. Deep underground, hidden from all men, few there
are who know of its existence and we guard the secret,
if need be, with our lives. Against our law you have
ventured here. Why have you come?"
To the abrupt inquiry Una had no answer ready. She
hesitated; then, recalling her mission, she returned the
gaze of her questioner with an awakened courage that
went well with her maidenly beauty.
"I seek one who is dear to me,” she replied.
“Why do you think he is here?” demanded Sajipona.
"Once, years ago, he was lost. It is said he was in
this cave. Now he has disappeared again—and we look
for him here. I know nothing of your law. You are
good—I am sure of it-I beg of you to help me.”
The appeal was impulsively made. A smile of sym-
pathy lighted the features of the queen, followed by
a look of pain. Her cheeks paled, the hand, still clasp-
ing the lyre upon which she had been playing, trembled.
Averting her gaze, she turned towards the window where
she had first been standing.
“Why should I help you?” she said. “You have
broken our law.”
"We didn't know of your law. All we want is to find
him.”
“If the man you seek is here of his own will, why
should I help you find him? He may wish to remain
unknown.”
“You do not know," said Una eagerly. "A strange
thing happened before. It may be—how can I explain?
It all sounds so improbable!-it may be he is not him-
self.”
Sajipona laughed ironically.


276
THE GILDED MAN
"Ever since you came back?” repeated Una, seizing
upon the clew. “Then you have not always been here?
You know the world outside of this cave? You were
here once before, and then went away? Where were
you? Try to remember."
"Why, yes,” said David, mystified more than ever;
“of course I've been away. I remember moving about
a great deal, visiting many countries, seeing many peo-
ple. But I don't remember who any of them were
I can't recall a single thing plainly, not a name, not a
face. Sajipona has tried to help me. She's very patient
about it. But, so far, it has been no use and it's pain-
ful, I can tell you, trying to remember these things.
I feel comfortable, entirely at peace, only when Sajipona
sings. There's nothing like her singing. I could listen
to her forever, forgetting even to try to remember—if
you know what that means."
"But I want you to remember," interrupted Sajipona.
“You must try—never mind how painful it is. You
know how much depends on that for both of us."
“Yes, I know. That's why I try. I believe that
when I am entirely well again it will all come right. All
those dark dreams and things that bother me now will
be cleared away and I will be completely myself. Then
it will be as you say. We will be perfectly happy to-
gether.”
Involuntarily the two women looked at each other.
David, standing between them, calmer than before, re-
mained silent, unconscious of the effect of his words.
“You must explain what you mean," Sajipona said
to him firmly, after a moment of irresolution.


SUBTERRANEAN PHOTOGRAPHY 277
Aroused from his revery, he looked in perplexity
from one to the other. Then his brow cleared and he
laughed softly.
"Oh, yes! You see-Una-Sajipona is very beauti-
ful; and she is just as good as she is beautiful. I owe
her everything. When I am completely myself again,
as I said, she has promised — You see, I have told
her that I "
The words died away as he looked at Una. Her face
showed neither anxiety nor surprise, but a deep tender-
ness and melancholy. At the sight of her he seemed
to lose, the thread of what he had to say. He was mys-
tified, pitiably torn between the struggles of a memory
that remained tongueless, and the realities of a situation
that seemed, somehow, peculiarly unreal. Wistfully he
held out his hand to the girl whose beauty thus moved
him, then hastily withdrew it, turning as he did so to
Sajipona.
“Your song was very soothing, my queen,” he said
ruefully. “I fear I am not quite myself as yet. Something
is wrong-something new. This lady_Una—you will
forgive me?"
"Try to remember,” she said earnestly; "there's noth-
ing to forgive.”
“There's nothing to remember,” he said disconsolately.
"I have tried—but I begin to think it's all a mistake."
He turned abruptly, leaving them to go to the room
whence he had come a moment before. As he reached
the open window he paused irresolutely.
“You will not go?” he said, his eyes meeting Una's.
“David!” was all her answer.


SUBTERRANEAN PHOTOGRAPHY 279
them,” she said. “The fat man will have trouble to
run, and the old woman will die because she is always
afraid.”
Her grim humor fell on unappreciative ears. At
Sajipona's rebuke she lapsed again into silence, first giv-
ing a grudging explanation of what she had done with the
party of explorers. The latter, it appeared, were prac-
tically prisoners where Narva and Una left them. There
they must remain, unless they were discovered by the
hostile band that was believed to have invaded the cave,
in which case their release would mean capture by Raoul
and his men. The possible consequences of this in-
creased Una's alarm, and at Sajipona's command Narva
grumblingly set forth to effect their rescue. As suc-
cess depended on her speed, Una was prevented from
returning with her. She was thus left alone with Saji-
pona, whose plans regarding David now absorbed her
attention. Here, however, she encountered a reserve
which she could not break. Every attempt to gain in-
formation was repelled, and in a manner intimating that
Una's interest in David was unwarranted by any pre-
vious friendship between them.
“He does not know you,” exclaimed Sajipona exult-
antly, but with a note of uneasiness that was not lost on
the other.
Una, concerned for David's safety, ignored the un-
spoken challenge.
“What is to become of him? Why is he here?" she
demanded.
"What is that to you?" was the fierce retort. "He
doesn't know even your name. He is happy. He de-
pends on me.”


280
THE GILDED MAN
“That may be. But there is a mystery. Tell me
what it all means. If he is happy, if there is nothing
more to be said or done, I will go. Only-tell me.”
“You will not go—not until there is no longer a mys-
tery, as you call it."
The announcement sounded like the sentence of a
judge, from which there is no appeal. It reminded Una
that she was in the power of one who had shown towards
her an inflexible will. At the same time she was con-
scious of a softening in Sajipona's attitude that was both
mystifying and reassuring. This beautiful Indian girl
had at first resented Una's presence. She had regarded
the other with queenly scorn, and had not disguised the
jealous impatience kindled by the brief and futile inter-
view with David. Now this impatience had given place
to a deeper emotion that was less easily understood. It
might be of kindlier import, an unexpected relenting
from the harsh mood that apparently weighed Una's
every word and act with suspicion. Still, it was possible
that beneath this newly awakened generosity there lurked
something sinister, a deliberate purpose to lead the other
to a confession that would be her own undoing. Of this,
however, Una had little fear. By nature trustful of
those about her, she did not look for harm to herself
from one so young, so beautiful, and who now, at any
rate, appeared anxious to atone for her former enmity
by a graciousness equally marked.
"There is nothing to fear,” said Sajipona, as if read-
ing her thoughts. "Narva will protect your people.
There is danger only from your friend, this Raoul
Arthur ”
"He is not my friend!” exclaimed Una.


282
THE GILDED MAN
splendor, Una realized that she was standing beneath the
great luminous body whose magical effects she had first
witnessed while approaching the palace with Narva.
Shielding her eyes from a spectacle that wearied by its
vehemence, she turned to Sajipona. But Sajipona was
not with her. Una stood alone in the center of the
great court.
At another time this sudden isolation would have been
alarming. But the many strange adventures experienced
during the last few hours had accustomed Una to danger,
so that the disappearance of Sajipona served merely to
arouse her to a keener sense of her surroundings. Her
faith in this beautiful Indian, moreover, was not easily
shaken, in spite of the repellant attitude she had first
assumed towards her. Treachery from such a source,
it seemed to her, was inconceivable.
Stepping back from the direct rays of the great ball
of fire, the manifestations of whose mysterious power
had until then absorbed her attention, Una found her-
self in the midst of a throng of people, all of them,
apparently, watching her. By their dress, simple and
flowing as that worn by the followers of Anitoo, she
perceived these were cave men and women, some forty
or fifty in number, each one standing motionless along
the wall farthest from her. With heads bent forward
and arms outstretched towards the center of the court,
where Una stood, they appeared to be engaged in some
sort of devotional exercise, the visible object of which
was a great round disk of gold set in the tessellated pave-
ment that flashed beneath the light pouring upon it from
above. Inlaid within this disk, at the outer rim of which
she had been standing a moment before, Una could now


SUBTERRANEAN PHOTOGRAPHY 283
discern cabalistic figures wrought in emeralds whose
deep effulgence was in striking contrast with the haze
of golden light surrounding them. The intricate design
formed by these figures was difficult to trace, but that
each figure, and the pattern into which it was woven,
bore a mystical meaning was suggested by the rever-
ence with which this whole glittering pool of light was
regarded by the silent throng.
Eagerly Una scanned the white-robed worshipers
before her, hoping that among them she might discover
David. Not finding him, she sought Sajipona, with the
same disappointing result at first. Then her gaze, wan-
dering away from these strange faces, rested upon a
slightly elevated platform at one end of the court. There,
beneath a gold and gem-encrusted canopy, seated upon
a massive throne of pure crystal, she beheld the Indian
queen.
From the first Una had felt the spell of her beauty,
but its force had been tempered by the flashes of anger,
the suspicion, the disdain that had alternately marked
their intercourse. Now, although arrayed and staged,
as it were, in all the splendor belonging to her high sta-
tion—with crown and scepter and glittering robe of
state this proud beauty had softened to an almost girlish
loveliness, wistful, touched with a melancholy as hopeless
as it was appealing. That she was a queen, aloof from
those about her, seemed strangely pathetic. Nor did
this expression of sheer womanliness change as her eyes
met Una's. Across the width of the great presence
chamber a mysterious wave of sympathy seemed to bind
these two together. Completing its wordless message,
Sajipona arose and stood expectantly while Una ap-


284
THE GILDED MAN
proached, the throng before her silently falling back until
she reached the foot of the throne. Then, with hands
clasped in greeting, the two women faced each other,
the enmity that first had sundered them apparently for-
gotten, or, at the least, held in check by some subtler,
purer feeling. Again Una wondered if this could be gen-
uine if the suspicion with which she had been regarded
at first might not still lurk behind this outward gracious-
ness. Little versed in the arts of dissimulation, however,
and apt to take for current coin whatever offered of
friendliness, she accepted this unlooked-for warmth of
welcome with undisguised gratitude. Sajipona drew her
gently forward until the two stood side by side on the
platform facing the great court, the silent groups of
attendants below them. The dazzling light, the flashing
splendor of columned walls and vaulted ceiling, the white-
robed figures, the jeweled throne, furnished forth a faery
spectacle not easily forgotten.
"These are my people,” said Sajipona proudly. “They
will protect you as they protect me."
As if in answer to her assurance the waiting courtiers,
absorbed until now in the contemplation of the mystical
figures within the circle of light at their feet, slowly
turned and made grave obeisance before the two women
standing in front of the throne. Following this sign of
submission, they came forward as if expectant of some
further command. Sajipona smilingly watched the effect
of this ceremony on her companion.
"Ah! it is not here as in Bogota," she said, “or in the
world where you come from, far from Bogota. You think
all this that you see is unreal—a dream, perhaps. My
people are so different from yours—and all these many


SUBTERRANEAN PHOTOGRAPHY 285
years they live forgotten, unknown. I have lived in
Bogota. There they do not know of this great cave that
belonged to the ancient rulers of the mountains. They
don't know that I am queen here, or of this palace that
is mine—and the light that burns like the sun. Ah!
I wonder what your wise uncle will say when he sees
our sun!”
Sajipona laughed noiselessly, with the half-concealed
delight that a child hugs to itself when it hides some
simple secret from the eyes of its elders. Una, more
bewildered than ever at this allusion to Leighton, sought
vainly for a reasonable explanation of the marvels sur-
rounding her.
"My uncle!” she exclaimed. “How do you know that
he is wise-and he is!—and that he is here? Yes, this
sun of yours—what is it, where does it come from?”
Again Sajipona laughed.
“Remember,” she said, “this is not Bogota. Out there
it is all very wonderful, very great. You have the sky,
the sun, the stars. The mountains stretch away as far
as the eye can see; there are plains, cities; and there
are buildings greater than any we have here. This is
a toy world, you will say, even when you think some
things in it very wonderful. But you do not guess the
half of what is here. In this world my people have lived
in secret for centuries. They have discovered things
that even the wisest of your people know nothing of.
We have eyes that see everything that happens in our
world of stone, eyes that pierce through the stones them-
selves. I knew when you came into our kingdom; I
watched you when you passed through the great gate


286
THE GILDED MAN
where the others were fighting. But you don't believe
me. Come, I will show you."
Sajipona gave her hand to the astonished girl and the
two stepped down from the platform where they were
standing and made their way to the center of the court.
Here the great circle of light cast by the ball of fire
overhead gleamed at their feet like an unruffled pool of
sun-kissed water. At the rim of this circle they halted,
Sajipona gently restraining her companion, who, in her
eagerness, would have passed on.
"Look there on the floor,” she said. “Your eyes may
not be as ours; perhaps you will have to wait before you
can see. But it will come—you will see.”
Una remembered how she had heard-and laughed-
of magicians who pretended to read the future by gazing
into a crystal globe. The experiment to which she was
now invited seemed like that, only here it was appar-
ently a huge mirror of reflected light that she was told
to watch, while no word had been said of finding therein
a revelation of things to come. Nor could she see any-
thing in this mirror at first. Waves of light, tongues of
leaping flame, passed over the polished surface of the
metal, here darting off in long zigzag streaks, there form-
ing a sort of pool of molten, quivering fluorescence, as
the physicists call it, varying in size and color, then van-
ishing utterly. Much the same appearance Una remem-
bered having seen on the surface of a copper kettle when
subjected to intense heat. But in this case there was
no perceptible heat to account for the phenomenon, which
was rather electric in its fantastic weavings—a redupli-
cation, on a gigantic scale, of the wavering finger of light
that she had watched play, with such fatal results, on


288
THE GILDED MAN
"Ah!" she cried, “now you have our secret. Here in
this ancient hall, under this sun we have worshiped
for countless ages, nothing is hidden. But the man you
fear, that you see there, will bring freedom to us both.”
Whatever Sajipona meant by her enigmatical words,
the fact was there, the living, moving likeness of Raoul
Arthur, in the light-woven tapestry at Una's feet.
Eagerly she watched him. It was certainly Raoul, Raoul
hurrying towards her, growing more distinct, more
threatening with every moment. Behind him streamed
a shadowy line of men—swiftly, confidently-following
a trail amid the jagged rocks and precipices of the cave
that might well have daunted the boldest spirits, but
which seemed powerless to retard their progress. As
Una's eyes became accustomed to the shifting panorama
before her, sundry details came into view that at first had
been unnoticed. She was familiar with the curious phe-
nomena wrought by the camera obscura, and this sin-
gular portrayal on the gleaming floor of Sajipona's
palace seemed at first not unlike that simple method of
reproducing objects invisible to the spectator. But as
the present picture grew and then faded away, to be fol-
lowed by others in this magic pool of light, she knew that
what she now beheld was quite beyond the power of the
cunningly placed lens used in experiments with the cam-
era obscura to portray. The latter, she remembered,
could reproduce objects only when they came within a
certain definite distance from the lens itself. But here
Raoul Arthur and his companions moved across a con-
stantly changing, lengthening space. Moreover, she rec-
ognized the path they were following as the one over
which she had traveled at a point far away from the


SUBTERRANEAN PHOTOGRAPHY
289
palace. They had reached, indeed, the very spot where
she and Narva had first caught sight of that topmost
pinnacle of the cave, behind and above which flamed
the great ball of fire, the sun of this subterranean world.
As Sajipona's palace stood at the base of this pinnacle,
she calculated, from her own experience of the journey,
that Raoul and his followers were coming directly
towards them.
“There is nothing to fear,” resumed Sajipona, as if in
answer to her thoughts. “Be glad of their coming. But
—for your own people I am afraid.”
“Ah, my poor uncle! I have brought him into all
this danger," exclaimed Una. “Where is he? How can
I save him?"
"Look!"
Eagerly studying the portion of the picture indicated,
Una suddenly found, to her horror, that Raoul, with
that vague, shadowy rabble at his heels, was approaching
another group of people, just anead, among whom she
recognized the gaunt figure of Narva, evidently exasper-
ated by the inability of the others to keep pace with her.
Even in the uncertain lines of the picture the scorn dark-
ening the features of the old sibyl was easily discernible.
Behind her tottered Mrs. Quayle, waving her arms in
helpless protest, supported by the faithful Andrew, whose
face showed an even greater degree of woe and alarm
than usual. They were closely followed by Leighton,
imperturbable as ever, and Miranda, whose irascible rock-
eting from one side to the other of the narrow trail, and
whose violent gesticulations manifested all too plainly
his indignation. Had it not been for her companions
Narva could easily have outstripped her pursuers; but


SUBTERRANEAN PHOTOGRAPHY 291
nized in him a superiority they were not loath to follow.
But Raoul's leadership was not to be so easily super-
seded. Quickly thrusting Miranda aside, breathless and
triumphant from his exertions, the wiry American angrily
harangued his troops. He threatened the foremost of
them with a pike that he held in his hand, and by their
downcast looks and passive demeanor, it was evident
that his words and gestures had brought them back to
a recognition of his authority. Miranda, still shouting
and gesticulating, was ignominiously left to shift for
himself, while the cavemen, obeying Raoul's command,
swept onward until they reached the stupefied group of
explorers ahead of them. Here another halt was ordered,
and Raoul pointed out Mrs. Quayle to his men. Four
of the latter promptly left the ranks of their comrades,
went forward at a round trot, seized the horrified lady,
and swung her up to their shoulders before she knew
what was happening, or had time to defend herself.
Thus carried by two of the men and held in place by the
other two, she was speedily brought into line not far
behind Raoul. Leighton evidently protested against the
sudden capture of Mrs. Quayle, for whose safety he felt
peculiarly responsible. But his appeal was waved scorn-
fully aside. The rest of the explorers, Miranda included,
seeing that further resistance was futile, and that they
were virtually Raoul's prisoners, hopelessly resigned
themselves to their fate and followed along with the
others. A signal was then given, and the entire throng
marched rapidly down the trail to the palace. Narva,
however, was not among them. In the commotion that
took place during the altercation with Miranda, and the
subsequent seizure of Mrs. Quayle, she had disappeared.


292
THE GILDED MAN
As the last figures in this strange picture faded from
view, Sajipona seized Una's arm. The waving streams
of light reflected on the floor bad again become mean-
ingless. It was as if a dream had suddenly passed before
them, leaving them, as sleepers awakening, uncertain of
the reality of what they had witnessed.
"Who is he?" asked Sajipona—"the stout man who
so nearly captured these traitors?"
"A friend, a doctor, who came with us."
“He is bravel But it is strange that this Raoul
Arthur could free himself so easily from Anitoo. He
must have killed my poor Anitoo to do that. But your
friend was nearly too much for him! Never mind if
he failed. They will soon be here. Let us be ready!”
Then, turning to her attendants who stood in a circle
at a distance from them, she cried:
“Open the door!”
Obeying her command, two of the cavemen hurried
to the farther end of the hall. There was a muffled
sound of grating stone, and then the two leaves of the
great portal swung slowly open, revealing the glittering,
silent garden of the palace beyond.


XIX
A QUEEN'S CONQUEST
CURROUNDED by her people, the ancient diadem
of the Chibchas, with its great, smouldering emerald,
on her head, Sajipona waited at the entrance to the
court. Without, the motionless flowers and shrubbery
of the garden were steeped in a pale, quivering light out-
lining every object with a weird intensity sharper, yet
more indefinable than gleams from moon-drenched skies.
In this spectral scene the cavemen stood in rows, like
carven statues; even Sajipona, mobile, versatile of mood,
seemed a woman of marble.
But Una, stirred profoundly by the picture she had
seen, doubtful of its reality, not altogether sure of her
own ground, aware of the dangers that threatened, but
ignorant of their exact character, could not hide her anxi-
ety. Seizing Sajipona's band, her eyes were eloquent of
unspoken questioning. Her mute appeal was answered
by a wistful smile, a glance at once gracious and sor-
rowful.
"For you there is no danger," said the queen. "For
me—yes, for me there is, perhaps, danger.”
“How can that be?"
“You fear this Raoul Arthur. It is not for you, it is
for me he has come. For three years he has plotted to
293


294
THE GILDED MAN
do this thing. My own kinsman, Rafael Segurra, was
in league with him. Before now he has attempted to
force his way here. The two together found their oppor-
tunity in your coming. And now-Arthur has escaped
from his captors and again seems to have found traitors
among my people.”
“What is it he wants?”
"You ask that—you who know David!”
For a moment the anger and suspicion with which she
had first regarded Una kindled in Sajipona's eyes. But
the mood vanished as quickly as it came.
“Surely, you remember what Narva said,” she went
on. “He seeks treasure. He sought it with David three
years ago, the poor treasure belonging to what is left
of my people. Segurra told him where it was, how to
get it.”
“Ah, yes!” exclaimed Una. “Now I know! The treas-
ure of Guatavita, of El Dorado, it is here."
“It is here—it is mine!” said Sajipona sternly. “It
will never be his. Always your people have fought for
it, have sinned and died to make it theirs. They have
driven us off the face of the earth, to hide for centuries
in this cave and in that other land that as yet you know
nothing of. Here we have made our world—and we will
keep what is ours, unless David "
The words died on Sajipona's lips. At the far end of
the garden the heavy branches of spectral shrubbery
swayed and parted, revealing a majestic figure hastening
toward them. It was Narva. Gliding along the path-
way, she showed an agitation contrasting strangely with
her accustomed reserve. Reaching the entrance to the


298
THE GILDED MAN
ever ready to yield to the strongest personality that
appealed to them, was not far from that intended. Spears,
knives, blowguns were brandished, a score or more men
leaped forward uttering cries of triumph-and again the
attack planned by Raoul seemed fairly under way and
with a reasonable prospect of success. It was checked
-but only for an instant-by a clamorous protest from
Miranda. The latter, blazing with indignation, bounded
to the front, gesticulating and menacing all who were
within his reach.
"He is one canaille, this fellow!” he shouted. "He
fight with the womens. He take from you all you have.
Do not be estupid. He lie! He lie!”
This outburst astonished more than it convinced those
to whom it was addressed. As Miranda spoke in a mix-
ture of English and Spanish, scarcely any one understood
what he said. In another moment he would have been
swept derisively aside, had not Sajipona quietly inter-
posed. Pointing at Raoul, she spoke a few words to
the cavemen in their native tongue. Then she turned to
the man whose armed presence at the doors of her pal-
ace, threatened her authority, if not her life.
"So! This is the man who, a short time ago, I saved
from death at the hands of an angry mob!” she said
scornfully. "You did not come to my house then, Don
Raoul, as you come now. And yet—if I order these men,
whom you think are your followers, to treat you as that
other mob would have treated you, they would obey me.
Be sure of that! And now, tell me: what have you done
with Anitoo?"
Raoul hesitated a moment, then answered sullenly:
“He attacked me. I killed him in self-defense.”


XX
LEGEND AND REALITY
As soon as she reëntered the palace, Sajipona dis-
11 missed her courtiers, the cavemen who acted as
guards, and even the few female attendants she was
accustomed to have near her. Of her own people, Narva
alone remained.
Facing Raoul and Una in the deserted hall, flooded
with light from the magic sun that a short while since
had traced in moving characters of fire the approach
of her enemies, Sajipona told of her purpose in bringing
them there. She spoke as if she had long foreseen and
even planned this interview, and amazed them by her
intimate knowledge of various matters that seemed quite
beyond the reach of her sources of information. It was
as if she had been thoroughly familiar for some years
past with Raoul's schemes, and had even shared in the
hopes and fears that brought Una to Colombia.
"I knew of your coming; I planned for it,” she said
to Raoul. "For months I have known that you were
using every art your cunning could suggest-aided by the
treachery of one of my own people—to find your way
here. Until now you have been unable to do anything.
I was always able to keep you out of here—and I could
still have kept you out, had it not served my purpose
302


304
THE GILDED MAN
is guarded, as you know to your cost, by many a laby-
rinth, strongholds that have baffled you every time you
have tried to pierce them. Its people live by means and
methods that are forgotten-if they were ever known-
to the outer world. Here we have been free to follow
the customs and beliefs of our fathers. Here we could
still continue a peaceful mode of life you know nothing
of. But something has happened that has changed all
this. Because of it I have at last permitted, even aided
your coming to us. I know all you have sacrificed for
this treasure you hope to win from the depths of the earth
-treasure that belongs to us. I will not say that your
search will be rewarded. Had you succeeded in your
plan years ago you would have paid dearly for it. The
knowledge of this hidden land would have been forever
lost to you. Good fortune-or ill—has brought you here
at last. Your fate lies now in the hands of the man you
once tried to injure. But there is one thing you must do
before his decision can be given. You must free him
from a tyranny that, with all our knowledge of mankind's
perils and weaknesses, we are powerless to overcome.”
The demand, vague though it was, did not surprise
Raoul. Upon learning of David's disappearance on the
road from Honda to Bogota, he guessed that the missing
man had found his way, by some inexplicable method,
to this subterranean world, thus repeating his almost
fatal adventure of three years ago. This surmise, based
on the past, and on indications of similar abnormal men-
tal symptoms that he believed David had again experi-
enced, was corroborated by the cavemen who accompa-
nied him to the palace. From these cavemen he learned
that David had been followed by Sajipona's emissaries


306
THE GILDED MAN
verting to the Indian belief in such matters, declared that
David was bewitched. In a sense, Raoul knew this to be
true. He knew also that the spells wrought by modern
witchcraft were easily broken by any scientist holding
the clew to them. That the cavemen, who possessed
secrets in physics unknown to the outer world, should be
ignorant of the simplest phenomena of hypnotism was
not extraordinary. Even Sajipona shared, to a certain
extent, the superstitions of those around her regarding
David. She expected Raoul to break the "enchantment”
under which David suffered. Una, familiar with Leigh-
ton's experiments and speculations in this field, was quite
as confident as the queen that the case was within Raoul's
power. Raoul alone realized the possible consequences
following David's return to normal consciousness.
“Even if I could do as you say,” he asked, “why would
you have David changed?”.
“As he is now, he is not himself.”
“No, he is not himself,” repeated Una eagerly.
Sajipona's cheek paled; her lips tightened as if to pre-
vent an angry rejoinder.
"Are you not content with him as he is?” persisted
Raoul.
"What is that to you?" she asked coldly. Then, no
longer disguising her emotion, she went on:
"You don't understand what is between us. He comes
from a world that I have never seen. In the legends of
our kings there is one telling of a stranger who suddenly
appears from a land of clouds—a land no man knows
who brings with him the power to make my people, as
they once were, rulers of their own land. It is an old
tale. Believe it or not—who can be sure of these things?
" On


LEGEND AND REALITY
307
Certainly, the stranger has never come unless it is
David.”
“There have been many strangers since that time,”
said Raoul cynically. "Your people have disappeared
before the Spaniard. They live unknown, forgotten, in
a cave in the mountains. Why do you think David is
the stranger in the legend?”
She drew herself up scornfully. Her dark beauty,
flashing eye, quivering nostril, needed not the emerald
diadem of the ancient Chibchas encircling her brow to
proclaim her royal lineage.
“We are not so poor, so abandoned, as you seem to
think,” she said. “This is all that is left of a mighty
kingdom, it is true—a cave unknown to the rest of the
world. But here we are, at least, free. We live the life
of our fathers. Our old men have taught us wisdom
that is unknown to you. We have wealth—not only the
wealth that you are seeking—but secrets of earth and air
you have never dreamed of.”
"This may be—I believe it is all true. But—what
is David to do here?" murmured Una.
"If he is the Stranger of the old legend, the Gilded
Man we have awaited, this Land of the Condor is his.”
“You are its queen.”
"He will be its king.”
“You have told him?" asked Raoul.
“Years ago. We were happy. I loved him. It was
not as the women of your world love. Life was less than
his least wish. And he loved me. Plans for the great
rejoicing—the Feast of the Gilded Man—were made.
Not since the Spaniards came-perhaps never before
has there been such preparation. Then, a change came


308
THE GILDED MAN
over him. He talked of an outside world he had seen
in his dreams. He was bewitched then, as he is now.
He had forgotten you, his false friend, and all the life he
had lived before. To cure him, I sent him out with
some of our people. He scarcely understood, but he
accepted anything I did as if it came from his own will.
Then he disappeared. Without a 'word he left me.
There came long years of uncertainty. The few months
he passed with me here seemed like some bright dream
that vanishes. I began to think it was a dream—when
suddenly I heard of him again. Some of my people
found him wandering aimlessly in the forest near the
Bogota road. He was looking for me, he said—he had
forgotten the rest of the world.”
There was an artless simplicity in Sajipona's confes-
sion of her love and disappointment that was more than
eloquence. Narva stood apart, her face shrouded in her
mantle, motionless, as if the remembrance of these bygone
matters carried with it something of a religious experi-
ence. Upon Una the effect was startlingly different. She
listened in amazement, indignation, at this revelation of
a passion in which her lover had shared of which she
had known nothing—and that seemed to place him utterly
apart from her. If Sajipona's tale was true the manner
of its telling, her own engaging personality, carried irre-
sistible conviction—David's love for Una had been shad-
owed all along by an earlier, deeper sentiment that gave
it the color of something that was not altogether real.
Why had he never told her of this Indian romance?
Hypnotism indeed! What man could help kneeling in
passionate adoration before this queenly woman, whose
beauty was of that glorious warmth and fragrance be-


LEGEND AND REALITY
309
longing to the purple and scarlet flowers of one's dreams,
whose love combined the unreasoning devotion of a child
with the proud loyalty that inspires martyrdom? They
had loved—David and Sajipona—there could be no doubt
of that. Before he met Una on the shores of that far-off
English lake, David had stood soul to soul in a heaven
created by this radiant being. He was with her again.
The past was completely blotted out; the tender idyl of
Derwentwater, of Rysdale, forgotten. Even the sight of
Una herself stirred but the vaguest ripple of memory.
There was mystery, certainly, in these strange moods of
forgetfulness from which David was suffering. Her
uncle could give them a learned name and account for
them as belonging to something quite outside the man's
will, outside his control. But what did Leighton really
know of all this? Such matters were beyond the reach
of the mere scientist. With a flash of scorn she doubted
Leighton's knowledge; his wisdom seemed curiously lim-
ited. David's malady-if it was to be called a malady-
was nothing less than the delirium caused by love itself,
and as such beyond the reach of clinic or laboratory.
The spell, the witchcraft, that had transformed him was
wrought by Sajipona.
At first Una had not believed this; now the sudden
conviction that the man she loved was faithless to her,
had always been faithless to her, brought an overwhelm-
ing sense of bitterness. Her former anxiety to save him
—from peril as she thought-gave place to a feeling that
was almost vindictive. She did not view him with the
anger of the jealous woman merely; she wanted to have
done with him, to forget him altogether. His name was


310
THE GILDED MAN
linked by this beautiful Indian to one of the legends of
her race; let it remain there!
“Why disturb him now?" she demanded passionately
of Sajipona. "He loves you, he is content.”
The revulsion of feeling in her voice was unmistakable.
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes, eloquent hitherto of
womanly tenderness, dilated in anger. Sajipona smiled
enigmatically.
"If you had not come,” she said, "there would have
been no question. But you are here. He seems to have
forgotten you. I am not sure, I want to be certain, now
that he has forgotten you, that he is still himself.”
“Why do you doubt? Yes, he has forgotten me. And
he is in your power, he is yours! Why hazard anything
further?”
Sajipona ignored the scornful meaning conveyed in the
words, regarding Una with a detachment indicating her
absorption in a new train of thought.
“A moment ago you were anxious for his safety," she
murmured. “You came here to look for him, to rescue
him. Perhaps I have been unjust-perhaps you have a
claim- "
“I have no claim,” retorted Una proudly. “Once you
saved his life. He has come to you again. He loves
you. What man could help loving you!” she added
bitterly.
Still Sajipona smiled.
“I must be sure of all this—and so must you," she
said. “If the witchcraft is mine, its power will soon be
broken. If there is something else, you, Senor, will
discover it."
She turned impatiently to Raoul, desiring him to go


XXI
DREAMS
D AVID welcomed Sajipona with genuine pleasure,
with an eagerness suggesting that he had been
awaiting her coming impatiently. Heedless of his greet-
ing, however, and regarding him earnestly, she asked if
he remembered the visitor who had been with him a short
time before.
“Yes! Yes!” he exclaimed. Then he went on, betray-
ing a certain degree of anxiety in tone and manner, ex-
plaining how this visitor's face had haunted him as if
it belonged to one he had seen in his dreams, one upon
whom he had unwittingly inflicted pain. Of course, that
could not be, he said, since there was no reality in
dreams. After all, a fancied wrong was nothing—and
yet, this dim memory of the woman who had been with
them a moment before was confusing. Where was she
now? he asked. Was she offended because he failed to
recognize her? He should have known better—but
dreams are troublesome things! He would like to see
her again—although it might be painful in a way—and
then, perhaps, he would recall more distinctly what now
was merely a dim sort of shadow in the back of his brain.
They talked together in the darkened chamber over-
looking the portico. The couch from which he rose to
312


DREAMS
313
greet Sajipona screened, with its regal hangings, Raoul
from him. When the queen pointed out this new visitor
to him, the result was similar to that following his en-
counter with Una.
“More dream-people," muttered David, passing his
hand slowly across his eyes. “I know this man, but I
can't exactly place him. It will come back to me in a
minute."
Raoul watched him with the intent, impersonal interest
a scientist gives an experiment that is nearing the climax
for which everything has been prepared beforehand.
“I think I can help you,” he assured him.
Then, turning to Sajipona; “I must warn you,” he
said in a low voice. "There will be a complete change.
Why not leave things as they are?”
The queen held her head up proudly.
“What do you mean?' she asked.
Raoul shrugged his shoulders, regarding her, and then
David, with a gleam of malice in his restless eyes.
"I mean just this: David will remember vividly what
is now only a vague dream, and he may forget everything
else. Therefore, I say, if you are satisfied with him as he
is, don't disturb his present mood.”
"I am not satisfied.”
“Ah! you are not satisfied. You want to try one
more experiment. But, just think!” he went on, a hint
of mockery in his voice; "all that legend of your people,
about a stranger who would appear from a far-off land
and restore the Chibcha Empire—why spoil so pretty a
picture? And the chances are, you will spoil it. I warn
you- "
A flash of anger checked his words.


314
THE GILDED MAN
“I have pledged myself for your safety," she reminded
him; "keep out of danger! I don't care for your warn-
ings. Help this man in the way that I have asked, and
as you say you can. You've tried often enough to injure
him. The consequences to me from what you do now-
leave all that for me to choose. Oh, never fear! I will
repay your service.”
David understood little of what was said, although he
strove to piece out a meaning. He perceived he was the
subject of their talk. From Sajipona's angry tone, more-
over, he knew that she was offended. The consequent
resentment that he felt in her behalf was strengthened
by an instinctive feeling of suspicion and dislike toward
Raoul. Checking a movement of repulsion, he appealed
to Sajipona.
“Let me throw him out of here,” he demanded ab-
ruptly.
"Oh, on the contrary!" smiled the queen, not unpleased
at his attitude. "He is here because I have asked him
to come and you will help me if you do what he tells
you."
"Do what he tells me? No! Why, Sajipona, what
new whim have you got in that beautiful head of yours?
Something's wrong. It must be that I've offended you.”
He took her hand, stroking it caressingly, while his
eyes sought hers in unrestrained admiration.
“This is hard,” he went on, in a low tone, half laugh-
ter, half reproach. “You are always so good, gracious
as a queen should be. Now you tell me to do what an
enemy of yours commands. As your enemy means mine,
that is unreasonable. I fear,” he added playfully, touch-
ing her hands with his lips, “I will have to disobey you,
:


DREAMS
315
just this once, even if you are a great queen. When I
am king, and we rule our jolly cave together, as you said
we would, it won't be so bad, I suppose. Men like this,
certainly, won't be around to bother us. How did he get
here? I thought one law of this kingdom—and a very
good law it is, too—was to keep people out."
“But you got in."
"I suppose I did,” he assented dreamily. "But I'm
not sure how it happened.”
“That's just it. This man will tell you. His name is
Raoul Arthur.”
David looked at him blankly, repeating the name.
Raoul moved out of the shadow of the bed hangings, his
eyes fixed on David's. His lips parted as if to speak,
but the words were checked by an imperative gesture
from the man before him.
"I'm not sure that I want to listen,” said David. “I
know this man, I'm certain that I do—but I can't tell
you when it was that. I first met him. It's all very
vague, like the haze that sometimes covers the living
pictures in the great pool of light in there. This memory
comes like something evil, something that brings ruin.
Surely, you don't want to bring ruin upon us, Sajipona!
Why not blot it out altogether?"
She shook her head sadly, looking wistfully into his
face. They clasped each other's hands, oblivious, for the
moment, of Raoul's presence.
"If you are king there must be no forgetting, no dread
of a memory that has been lost. You must know! The
Land of the Condor is a land of dreams compared with
the rest of the world. You have been out there, David,
but you have forgotten. Now you must remember.”


316
THE GILDED MAN
“No, not exactly forgotten,” he said uneasily. "It's
all in my head, a lot of things jumbled together-like
the haze in there. I have no wish to straighten it out,
either. There is such a thing as knowing too much
sometimes. We are happier this way-don't let's run
any risks changing what we already have. Soon there
will be that feast, you said—and then, if you are queen,
perhaps you will want me to be king. How proud I
shall be! You are very beautiful, Sajipona; ncble and
great, like the daughter of real kings of the earth. You
are my dream-queen, you know, the first "ove to touch
my soul with a knowledge of beauty. Such a woman
men die for! Sometimes, when you sing to me, or tease
old Narva; or when I would hold you and you kind of
ripple away laughing, like the little brook at the bottom
of the garden-yes, that is the woman men die loving."
"I wonder if you will always think that!”
"You mean, I may forget?"
“No, you will remember."
“ 'Remember!' You mean, those other things wrapped
in the haze—the things that we wait to see come out in
the pool of light. That's just it! No, I don't want
them; they spoil the first picture. To worship beauty
like yours, to live forever in the spell of your eyes, the
fragrance of your whole perfect being—that is happiness.
I want nothing else. Why lose our dream-loves; why
snatch from us, even before it is ours, the first pure
flower that touches the lips of youth? Don't rob me of
mine, my queen!”
His appeal thrilled with a dreamy earnestness that
would have moved a sterner woman than Sajipona. Nor
could there be doubt that the joy he thus kindled in her


318
THE GILDED MAN
the memory was vague. She might be one of those
dream-women, for all he knew, who get mixed up with
one's ideas of reality. He would like to have it straight-
ened out, to know who she was and why the thought of
her troubled him. But, after all, it was not particularly
important-not important, that is, compared with his
love for Sajipona, his certainty that in their union lay
a future happiness, not for them only, but for all this
wonderful kingdom she ruled over.
“Keep in this mind, if you will,” said Sajipona, the
hope that she secretly cherished greatly strengthened by
the sincerity and fervor of his protestations; "but first
be sure you know dreams from waking."
Again she expressed her desire to have Raoul brought
into the matter, promising David that, through his knowl-
edge and experience, the puzzles and contradictions of
the past would be set right. Yielding reluctantly, he
turned to Raoul.
The latter had withdrawn to the far side of David's
couch, whence he had watched, with alternate amuse-
ment and contempt, all that took place between these
two. He now advanced, with the air of one who has
the mastery of a difficult situation, and again proffered
his services. There was mockery in his voice; before
he addressed himself to his task he repeated his warning
to Sajipona, reminding her that it might be better not to
revive too suddenly a past filled, possibly, with disagree-
able surprises. His warning waved impatiently aside,
Raoul turned swiftly upon David, his restless, irritating
eyes fixed in a steady glare that, bit by bit, broke down
the latter's opposition. Forcing his victim to be seated
upon the side of the couch, he stood over him, for a


DREAMS
323
Sajipona! Yedia and Raoul
am:
bered her. She
Raoul would
his drowsiness, he sprang to his feet. Sajipona and Raoul
advanced to meet him. Sajipona! Yes, he remem-
bered her. She was the beautiful Indian queen he
was to marry in his dream—it must have been a
dream, because Una was not there; except that, at the
very last, he remembered, Una had stepped in for just
a moment—and he had not known her! How amazed,
angry, she must have been! And then—what else could
have been expected?—she had gone away. He was anx-
ious now for her safety, although how she could possibly
be in this cave, how she could have found her way here,
was a hopeless puzzle. The first word he uttered was a
cry to Sajipona:
“Where is Una?”
Raoul would have answered, but Sajipona checked
him. She realized the full significance of David's ques-
tion, although outwardly she showed nothing of her
emotion.
“You are yourself again-I am glad,” she said.
“But Unap"
“She is safe. She reached Bogota after you left
Honda.”
David's relief was evident, although his eyes showed
the perplexity arising from his strange awakening.
"I thought she had found her way here,” he said. Then
he turned again to Sajipona, this time with an impulsive
gesture of gratitude. “I remember everything now. You
saved my life. Every moment with you has been filled
with happiness. How can I ever be grateful enough for
the kindness you have shown me?”
He knelt before her, kissing her hand. She smiled;
her other hand rested upon his shoulder.
the full significance ºn thing of her


330
THE GILDED MAN
was a living this immense bo to the satisfactio
was a living, or, better yet, a life-giving substance. The
existence of this immense body of radium here, in the
center of the cave, explained, to the satisfaction of Leigh-
ton, much of the strange phenomena they had seen. Here,
obviously, was the source of the soft, diffused light that
had puzzled them ever since they passed through the
Condor Gate; and it was to this center of energy that
they must attribute the increase in buoyancy and physi-
cal well-being experienced the further they penetrated
into this subterranean world. The peculiar growths,
also, half vegetable, half mineral, that had given the
appearance of groves and gardens to certain portions of
the cave through which they traveled, were undoubtedly
due to this marvelous force, occupying the same relative
position towards subterranean life that the sun did to the
outside world of nature. Moreover, Leighton firmly be-
lieved that the supremacy of radium as the life-giver in
this cave, involved the existence, as they would discover,
of other phenomena having still more subtle, even
psychic, qualities. Narva grunted significantly at this
observation, and Una confirmed the truth of it by relat-
ing how the floor of the court where they were standing
had, only a short time before, reflected a series of pic-
tures of events taking place in the outside cave, by
means of which they had been able to follow Leighton's
approach to the palace and watched the collision of his
party with that of Raoul. It was through this peculiar
photographic power of radium, indeed, that Sajipona
could discover whatever was taking place in the remotest
regions of her domain. This information did not surprise
Leighton in the least. On the contrary, he appeared to
take it as a matter of course, one of many marvels that


334
THE GILDED MAN
the sensational features that were now given to him
as accomplished, familiar fact. For one thing, sci-
ence was restricted in its experiments by the small
quantity of radium within its reach. Here the amount,
estimating the size of the fiery globe above him, was
measured by the hundreds of tons—a fact, of course,
that must greatly increase the field over which radium
might be made to operate. Nevertheless, except for this
vague theory that an unknown power could be developed
from a great mass of this marvelous substance, suspended
in a great chamber, or series of chambers, not subject
to the ordinary outside influences of heat and light and
air, it was difficult to find a reasonable explanation for
the things that Sajipona told him and that he himself
had seen. Most astounding it was, also, to a modern
scientist, brought up in the methods and limited by the
views of his age, to discover here a development in
physics, beyond the dreams of the most daring investi-
gator, that actually belonged to a primitive race, and was
first practiced by them in a period and country without
scientific culture. The whole affair, indeed, furnished an
instance where science seemed to overstep the borderland
of the miraculous. It was as marvelous, after all, as
the familiar achievements of wireless or the cinema would
have been if suddenly presented to the world of half a
century ago.
Enjoying the savant's bewilderment, Sajipona described
more of the cave's wonders. Her forefathers, she said,
had discovered a way to imitate the changes from day
to night by a simple process of veiling and unveiling the
ball of radium. This was found necessary in order to
create the right variations between growth and a state


338
THE GILDED MAN
acquisitiveness threatened to monopolize the wealth of
the community, a steady application of yellow rays was
sure to be beneficial, if not to him, at least to those about
him.
A case of this kind, indeed, had been recently operated
on in this way. The patient had accumulated such vast
wealth that he had grown to be a public inconvenience.
As his business dealings, however, did not come within
reach of the criminal law, and as his wealth was thus due
to bis natural bent for finance, the courts could not touch
him. He was, therefore, placed—not by way of punish-
ment, but as a mark of public esteem-in a bath of
yellow light. The effect was extraordinary and bore out
all the claims of the originators of the Color Theory. He
had not been in this yellow bath more than a few hours
before he began to part with his wealth. On the second
day he became more reckless in his benefactions, and this
frenzy for giving away what he had before so jealously
guarded from his neighbors, increased at so rapid a rate
that by the end of a week his entire fortune had passed,
through his own voluntary act, into the hands of the
government and various benevolent institutions. When
he had nothing more to give, it was decided that he had
had enough of the yellow treatment. He was then re-
leased from the honors the State had showered upon him,
and passed the rest of his life rejoicing in his penniless
condition.
Then, there was the case of a man who had grown tired
of his wife, and who had outraged the sense of the com-
munity by leaving her. He was captured and placed in
a bath of green light. In a very short time he got over
his roving propensities and became so persistent in his


A PEOPLE'S DESTINY
341
out the laws and traditions of their race—always subject,
of course, to her own authority—and it was by them that
these laws were further perfected before being passed
on to the two priests who would succeed them in admin-
istering the affairs of the kingdom.
“You are puzzled, naturally,” she said, “to hear of
the existence of wealth and poverty, charitable institu-
tions and governments, science and religion, in a kingdom
whose boundaries are within the walls of a cave. But
you have seen only a small part of this Land of the Con-
dor. On every side it extends many miles further under-
ground. And in the South from here, not a great distance,
there is a vast region—unknown to the rest of the world
-filled with mountains, fertile valleys, rivers, and bodies
of water strewn like jewels over plains that yield an
abundance sufficient for all mankind. This land is at
the mouth of our subterranean world. It lies in the
heart of that region marked 'unexplored' by your map-
makers. We have no fear that it will ever pass from
our hands, that it will ever be more than a blank patch
on your maps, for on every side it is defended by unscal-
able cliffs of snow and ice. It can be reached only through
this ancient cave. Perhaps, in the ages to come, when
the people of the outside world and of this race that has
lived here in an unbroken line as far back as the memory
of man can go, have been perfected, these barriers will
be thrown down. Such has been the prophecy of some
of our wise men; and to-day Omono and Saenzias tell
us that this final period of perfection is rapidly approach-
ing. It may be that before you go out again into your
own world, you will see more of the wonders of this
Land of the Condor, and of the unknown Land of the


350
THE GILDED MAN
part with it at all—there seemed to be a curse attached
to these blood-stained emeralds and gold.
In all this, perhaps symbolically, the festival, the first
strains of which they could hear, would have much to do
-and Sajipona and he were to be the leading figures
in that festival. He had consented to this freely. The
declaration was made with melancholy emphasis. It
seemed to Una the death-knell to their happiness. It
placed David suddenly in a world quite outside her own,
as if all along his life had been, must be, apart from
hers. There could be only one reason for this, of course
-Sajiponal Una seized upon it bitterly.
“You have always loved her!" she cried.
David did not answer. The fates that had brought
them to this pass were much too intricate to be lightly
disentangled. Sajipona was to him a being exquisitely
beautiful-beautiful in every way—the most perfect
woman he had known. But there was a strength and
glory in her loveliness that placed her above the reach
of mere human affection. She was a being separate and
distinct from all others—and yet necessary to the very
existence of the thousands who seemed to be dependent
on her. It might be love that he felt for her—but it
was more like the adoration with which one regards
something sacred, infinitely distant and beyond our own
likings and frailties. This feeling of adoration might,
indeed, have been transformed into the passion called
love. This surely would have happened had it not been
for one thing-
“Una, I love you!"
She started, looking wonderingly at him. How could
he say that to her now, after all that had passed? Could


354
THE GILDED MAN
Again the music sounded, not, as before, in a joyous
burst of melody, but in a slow chant, barbaric in feeling,
wailing, unearthly. The listening throng moved uneasily,
filled with vague premonitions of what was to come.
Sajipona lifted her hands to the statue, then smiled
serenely at the two lovers before her. The spell was
broken.
“This is the ancient festival of my people,” she said.
“It should be a time for rejoicing. The Gilded Man
awaits us."
As she spoke the veils covering the statue dropped one
by one to the ground. Before them stood, dazzling, glo-
rious, the figure of a man carved in gold. His head was
uplifted, as if intent on something beyond the ordinary
ken of mortal. Only the face was clearly and sharply
chiseled; the rest of the figure-limbs, body, and flowing
drapery-blended together in one massive pillar of
flaming gold.
The effect on the beholder of this exquisitely molded
shaft of metal, upon which the radium light from above
sparkled and flashed, was indescribable. The brilliance,
the lavishness of it, savored of barbarism; but the deli-
cacy of detail, the simple pathos and exaltation portrayed
in the face, had in it an art that was Nature's own. And
the wonder of it, the miracle that caught all men's eyes
as they looked, was the likeness that lived in every fea-
ture. For this Gilded Man, newly wrought to preside
over the last festival of this forgotten race; this one final
splendid piece of work that summed up all that was best
and noblest in an ancient art, was a deathless portrait in
gold of the man who stood before Sajipona, of the man
upon whom she had built her hopes, and for whom she


356
THE GILDED MAN
roof was opened. Without, the great sun of this under-
world poured down its radiance. Almost blinded, they
could still dimly see, standing just on a level with this
sun, Sajipona arrayed as became the last descendant of
the zipas. At her side were the two priests; but these
retreated as the scorching heat pierced them. For an
instant she stood where they left her, a vision of majestic
beauty that fascinated and held them spellbound. Then,
chanting an Indian song of triumph, the pæan with
which the ancient kings heralded their descent to the god
beneath the waters of the Sacred Lake, she cast herself
into the globe of fire.
A wave of light flamed across the upturned face of the
golden statue, a wail of mingled exultation and despair
arose from the throng below.
The Festival of the Gilded Man was ended.
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