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<h3>Chapter Thirty Seven.</h3> <h4>In the Old Stronghold.</h4> The morning broke fresh and cool, and after a good meal a start was made for the top stairway, Griggs being armed with two lanthorns, while Chris carried ropes, and an iron bar fell to Ned’s lot, the intention being to drive the chisel-shaped end between two stones or into some crack, so that the rope might be safely held for the adventurer’s descent. That which had seemed long and wearisome the day before looked easy now, and they were not long in reaching the slope leading to the first ascent, where the party paused to look back along the depression to where the animals were browsing contentedly enough, and the remains of the camp-fire sent up a tiny column of thin blue smoke. The ranges of open cells were on their right, terrace above terrace, all looking so grey and peaceful, with tree, shrub, and tuft of green flourishing in the various cracks, that it was difficult to connect the place with the horrors their search had unveiled. “It looks from here,” said Bourne, “like the home of so many human bees who had built their peaceful city against the sides of the cliffs. Do you think we shall find that similar horrors were perpetrated over yonder?” “If the opposite cells were occupied at the same time I’m afraid there is no doubt about it. We’ll find out the ascent to those terraces, if we can, to-morrow or next day. I wish we could come upon one of the chambers just as it was occupied by its owner.” “I dessay we could find a lot of things here on this side,” said Griggs quietly to the boys, who generally kept with him for companion, “but it would be an unked job with shovel and sieve to clear out one of those cells.” “A what job?” said Chris. “Unked, my lad. That’s what a Somersetshire chap I once knew used to call anything dismal and melancholy. This is going to be an unked job this morning, I can tell you, for if it wasn’t for the feeling of curiosity to know all about these people I should be ready to pitch it over.” “Well, do,” said Chris, “and leave it to Ned and me.” “’Tisn’t a fit job for boys,” said Griggs. “It isn’t a fit job for anybody,” said Ned, “but we’d do it because it’s learned and wonderful. Oh, I think it’s very fine.” “P’r’aps it is,” said Griggs coolly, “but you’re not going to take the job out of my hands, and so I tell you. Just hark at him, Chris; he has got the idea in his head that he’s going to discover swords with golden sheaths, and belts thick with precious stones; helmets with plumes of feathers, and rich and costly armour.” “Not such a noodle,” said Ned, whose cheeks had turned very red, for though not so extravagant as the American painted, he was fain to own to himself that he had some such ideas in connection with the dusky warriors who had stormed the place. “I got thinking a deal of it though last night after I lay down,” said Griggs, who did not care to carry his taunts any further after seeing the colour of Ned’s face, “and I was precious glad that I didn’t go down with only a few matches for light. I got dreaming about it afterwards.” “What, about the old fighting men? The dead?” “No. About what might be there all alive.” “What!” cried Chris. “Not about snakes?” “But I did, my lad; and I kept on waking up and then going to sleep and dreaming the same thing again. I never saw such big ones alive as I saw creeping along the bottom of that great square hole, getting into the corners and squirming up one till they nearly stood upon their tails, and then fell over sidewise with a crack that sent the dust flying.” “Horrid!” said Chris. “Yes. They’re not nice things to dream about—snakes—because of the waking up.” “Yes, I know,” cried Chris eagerly. “You fancy that you really have them about you, and feel as if you can’t believe it was only a dream.” “You never felt like that?” cried Griggs. “Yes, I have, more than once.” “Well, that’s strange, because it’s just how I felt over and over again last night, and it quite set me against the job.” “But now it is morning and we’re all awake and rested you don’t think it’s likely that there are any rattlers down in that hole?” “I do think it’s very likely, my lad,” said the American gravely. “Give one a rocky place out in the desert where the hot sun shines, and there’s no one to interfere with them, and you’re pretty sure to find some of those gentlemen. I wonder we haven’t seen more.” “I don’t like the idea of your going down, Griggs,” said Chris. “Forward there,” cried the doctor from below, as he finished a long look at the edge of the cliff, sweeping it with his glass and wondering whether they could reach the tableland in which the depression stood like a chasm split in a blue, rocky desert, “Yes,” he said sharply, changing the course of his thoughts, “we must explore the other side of this great chasm, but let’s finish one side first.” He was content to let Chris take the lead, and his friends smilingly gave way, humouring him, as they called it to themselves, Bourne good-temperedly taking it all as a matter of course, and feeling in nowise jealous on behalf of his own son. Wilton had on one occasion said something about favouritism, but Bourne had only laughed. “Oh, let the boys alone,” he said, “and let them settle the supremacy between them. That will be all right. Chris is as honest and frank as the day. You must have seen that.” “Seen what?” “Why, that the boy’s generous at heart. He bullies Ned horribly sometimes, and then afterwards he seems to repent and behaves like a lamb, while Ned turns dog.” So it was that in this matter of the exploration Chris led with his companion, and Griggs followed next, as if he were their henchman, while the three friends came last. The ascents were made with spirit till all stood in the chamber at the back of which the opening led into the side of the square pit, and here, while the doctor thoughtfully turned over and examined some of the remains still left, Griggs lit the lanthorn he had brought, and Ned tied one end of a hide-rope to it, ready for the lowering down, while Chris had stepped through the hole and stood on the broad ledge at the foot of the rough projections in the stone wall that acted as steps. “It must have been awful,” he said aloud suddenly, as he stood peering up through the twilight at the remains of the piled-up stones at the top. “What must have been awful?” asked Wilton, stepping out to his side. “Why, that fight when the Indians climbed up these steps, with the other people raining down big stones on their heads.” “Think it was so?” said Wilton quietly. “I feel sure of it. My word! Never mind about them being horribly savage—how brave they must have been! Why, I felt regularly shaky at having to get up yonder with no enemy to face.” “Yes, it’s an ugly place,” said Wilton; “but what about enemies down below? Can you see anything?” “No,” said Chris, gazing down. “It’s as black as black. I say, though, if there are any enemies down there they’re poisonous.” “What do you think possibly can be down there—one of the fierce cats of the country?” “No,” said Chris, smiling queerly. “Rattlers.” “Ugh!” “If there are any we shall see them when the lanthorn’s swung down. Why, it will be a good bit of sport for you to have a shot at them.” “The horrible beasts!” said Wilton. “We’re ready when you are,” said Griggs from the chamber. “The light’s burning quite brightly.” “Bring it here, then.—I say, Mr Wilton, there isn’t room for all of us on this bit of a landing. Will you go up to the top and be ready to fire?” “No,” said Wilton shortly. “I’ll leave it to you and Ned.” He stepped back to join his friends in the chamber, and then, seeing how they were occupied, he stepped out on to the remains of the terrace, to stand there examining the openings in the cliff-face opposite. “That’s right, Griggs, swing it down gently,” said Chris. “You, Ned, unsling your gun, and the first rattler you see give him a charge of small shot.” Ned fixed himself against the wall with his left arm round one of the projections, cocked his piece, and stood ready with the muzzle pointed downward, gazing the while into the darkness far below, now beginning to be illumined by the swinging lanthorn, as Griggs paid out the rope and sent it lower and lower. “You can see the heap of stuff—ashes, lying in a slope now,” cried Chris, who was watching intently. “Look, there’s one of those—you know what—looking almost white and shining.—Isn’t that something moving, Griggs?” “Can’t see anything yet but that pile of stuff that went down. I say, it’s not so very deep, after all.” “Thirty feet at least,” said Chris decisively.—“There, I’m sure of that. I saw something move right over in that—” “Corner,” he was going to say, but the word was smothered by the sharp echoing report of Ned’s piece, whose flash seemed brighter than the light of the lanthorn, which glowed like a dull star now disappearing in a passing cloud of smoke. “A rattler?” cried Chris. “I’m not sure, but I saw something gliding along, and I fired.” “Good boy! Quite right! Sharp’s the word. But I say, what a smother you’ve made. Get in another cartridge.” Click! went Ned’s piece as he closed the breech. “If that was a rattler,” said Griggs coolly, “seems as if it was just as well that I didn’t go down last night.” “And this morning too,” said Chris. “Why, there may be quite a nest of the brutes down there.” “P’r’aps so. But if there is it must have made some of them sneeze when all that dust went down with a rush yesterday.” Just then Wilton leaned in at the window-opening of the cell where the doctor and Bourne were examining a carefully-smoothed, elliptical, cell-like stone with a hole through the thickest part as if for holding a wooden handle. “What have you found?” he said. “A stone battle-axe, without doubt.” “Ah, it does look like it. You must save that. You have your glasses with you?” “Yes,” said the doctor. “Want them?” “Please. I want to look round.” The doctor slipped the strap of the case over his head and passed it to his friend. “Give a look at the mules and ponies,” he said. “If there’s anything wrong they’ll seem uneasy.” “Snake in the grass, eh?” “Yes.” “All right.—I say, you within there, what have you shot?” “Don’t know yet,” replied Chris. “Ned thought he saw a thumping great rattler.” “Did he?” “It’s too thick with smoke to see yet, but it’s clearing fast.” Wilton, who displayed more and more his disgust with the task his friends had set themselves, took the glass and began sweeping the sides of the depression, noting the cracks and gullies running up the cliff-face opposite in amongst the cell-like openings, all wonderfully clear and bright in the morning air, while Bourne and the doctor, encouraged by the discovery of the relic of the stone age, went on turning over the ashes in the next cell. Meantime the party at the side of the square pit waited impatiently for the smoke to rise and float out beneath the overhanging portion of the cliff above the top range of cells, Griggs giving the lanthorn a wave now and then, sending it flying, pendulum-like, as far as he could reach without bringing it in contact with the smoothly-cut wall. “Not much chance for anybody or anything to get out of here again if he was at the bottom, lads. It’s a regular trap,” he said. “Yes, but take care, or you’ll be breaking the lanthorn,” said Chris warningly. “Nay, I won’t do that, my lad,” replied Griggs quietly. “But I say, squire, did you aim at its head or its tail?” “I aimed at the part I saw moving,” said Ned. “Can you see it yet?” “Nay. Can you?” “No.” “I’m afraid you shot at nothing,” said Griggs, with a laugh, “and you haven’t killed it.” “I’m sure I saw something moving,” cried Ned indignantly. “Where is it, then? It’s clear enough to see now.” “Gone down into a hole, perhaps.” “Or crawled down its own throat perhaps.” “I know,” said Chris merrily; “Ned never misses anything. The poor brute has swallowed its own tail, formed itself into a ring, and bowled out like a hoop.” “Of course,” cried Ned, raising his piece to his shoulder, as the light now penetrated well into one of the opposite corners, and without a word of warning he fired again. “What did you do that for?” cried Chris excitedly. “To put that reptile out of its misery,” said Ned. “To fill the place with smoke again,” cried Chris indignantly. “It’s all fancy.” “Precious noisy fancy,” said Griggs dryly. “My word, he must be a thumper! Talk about smoke, he is kicking up a dust.” Chris was silent as he stood listening to the struggles of what was evidently a large serpent, while it writhed violently below them, beating about and lashing the pile of remains that had crumbled down from the cell, and sending up quite a cloud to mingle with that of vapour which rose, smelling pungently of hydrogen, towards the overhanging blocks of stone roofing in the square pit. “I guess I’m quite satisfied now that I didn’t go down,” said Griggs coolly; “but there don’t seem to be more’n one, or we should hear them travelling about.” “This one makes noise enough for a dozen,” said Chris.—“I say, Ned, I beg pardon. You don’t want me to go on my knees, do you?” “No,” replied the boy calmly, as he made the breech of his double gun snap to very loudly; “only I wouldn’t be quite so cocksure that you know everything, next time.” “Thy servant humbles himself to the dust,” said Chris, in Eastern style. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said Griggs dryly; “certainly not till that gentleman below has done kicking it up. Say, how big should you say this one is?” “Oh, I don’t know. It sounds as if it might be twenty feet long.” “Yes; but if it is as long as that it wouldn’t be a rattler.” “No; only a thumper,” cried Ned, laughing. “Hark, it’s quieting down now. Shall I give it another dose as soon as it is still?” “No; save all the ammunition you can, my lad. It has had enough to finish it off. How strange it is that anything long should take such a time to die.” They stood there patiently listening to the movements below, the lashing about gradually ceasing, to give place to a gliding, rustling sound as if the injured creature was travelling rapidly about endeavouring to escape. The dust began to settle as the smoke floated away, but twice over arose again as after a spell of silence there was the sound of a fall. “He was trying to get up in the corner yonder,” said Griggs. “How horrible if it comes up one of these angles,” said Ned, drawing his breath sharply. “No fear,” cried Griggs. “Snakes can only raise themselves up for a certain distance, and then they fall over. I’ve watched them often.” “I say, he’s getting quieter now,” said Chris. This was plain to all, for the rustling died out, began again more faintly, died out again, there was the sound of a pat or two as if given spasmodically by the reptile’s tail, and then all was quite still, while the dust had cleared away so that the watchers could see by the lanthorn’s light the inert body of a very large rattlesnake. “Why, it’s not half so big as I expected,” cried Chris. “The biggest I ever saw,” said Griggs quietly. “But it made such a tremendous noise,” cried Chris. “I expected to see one double that size. I say, hadn’t Ned better give him another charge?” “No; one of you go up to the top and drop a good-sized stone down upon him. We shall see whether there’s life enough in him to be dangerous.” “Hold my rifle, Chris, and I’ll go,” cried Ned eagerly, and the next minute he was scaling the side, and on reaching the top he walked to where he was nearly over the reptile, where he picked up a couple of stones of the size of a man’s fist and pitched one down, with the result that the snake began to writhe violently again, but only for a very brief time, before once more lying perfectly inert. “No more mischief in that fellow,” said Griggs. “I may as well go down now.” “What about the others?” said Chris. “What others?” “There are sure to be some more.” “Nay; rattlers are not above showing fight. If there had been any more we should have seen or heard them. I shall chance it now.” “I don’t like your going down yet,” said Chris anxiously. “I’ll have a shot at him now.” “Nay, nay; we may want our cartridges for something more useful than a rattler that has had as much as it wants to kill it.” “I’ll drop another stone on him,” said Ned. “One of those big ones.” “Ah, do,” said Griggs. “Take good aim, and drop it right on his head. Can you see?” “Oh, yes, I can see quite plainly.” Ned raised one of the heaviest stones near him, and after a gentle swing let it go, to fall with a sharp crack upon other stones, making the snake twine again and writhe round the block, to hold on tightly. “Why, he has pinned it down,” cried Chris. “Good aim.” As he spoke the snake untwined itself and straightened out, to lie perfectly still. “That’s done for him,” cried Griggs, “and if there had been any more that would have sent them squirming out of their holes. Here, you come down, squire. I’m going to knot two lariats together and pass them over one of these steps. I want you to help hold on.” Ned descended, the rope was given a couple of turns round the lowest projection, and held by the two boys; the lanthorn was lowered down to stand on the heap of dust below, and the end of the rope by which it was lowered also held by Chris, while upon drawing his keen hunting-knife and taking it in his teeth, Griggs just said, “Hold tight,” took hold of the lowered rope, and slid lightly down, to stand below the watchers on the heap. “Mind the snake, Griggs,” cried Chris. “Tell him he’d better mind,” was the reply, as the American raised the lanthorn and, knife in hand, approached the reptile cautiously, and then the lookers-on saw him stoop lower and lower till he was near enough for his purpose, when there was a quick movement, a flash of light reflected from the knife-blade, and Griggs rose again. “You’ve pinned him down with that last stone, squire. Head’s off, and he’ll do no more mischief. Now then, I’m going to look for your weapons o’ war.” The boys could see the bottom of the square place clear enough now, as the lanthorn began to move about; but there was little to see. Upon this side lay the heap of ashes specked with a few fragments of bone which glistened feebly in the light, but beyond the heap which ran tongue-like from the side out to the centre, there was nothing to be seen but stones—heavy stones such as remained like the broken-down portions of the breastwork about the edges of the excavations at the top. “Can’t see no treasures,” said Griggs gruffly; and directly after, “There aren’t a single shield—no spears—no swords—no breast-plates—no rifles.” “Dear me!” said Chris sarcastically. “I wonder at that. How many revolvers can you see?” “Nary one,” said Griggs coolly. “No gauntlets, no backpieces.” Then there was a pause, before the searcher straightened himself up and said decisively— “No, nothing.” “How disappointing,” cried Ned. “But what about all those stones?” “To be sure. You don’t call them nothing?” cried Chris. “No; there’s plenty of them, my lads, and plenty of something else underneath them, I’ll be bound, if any one thought it worth while to clear out this cellar.” “But what do you think now, Griggs?” cried Chris eagerly. “Same as I did before, my lad. I shouldn’t like to guess, but you may feel sure that many a savage came to his end here and lies covered in by these stones. The people who defended this place from up yonder must have showered the stones down when they were attacked. There, it’s of no use for me to stop down here. Are you two going to haul me up, or am I to climb?” “We’ll try and haul you up,” said Chris. “Stop a moment while I take the rifles and stand them up against the wall inside.” “Hold hard a moment,” said Griggs. “You’d better go and fetch the doctor. He might like to come down and see before I send up the lanthorn.” “I’ll call him,” said Chris, and he turned to pass through the opening, but was met by his father, who was crossing the stone chamber adjoining. “Here, quick,” cried the doctor; “come out of this place! Where’s Griggs?” “Here am I, neighbour. Nothing to be found, only what fell in from where you stand. But there’s hundreds upon hundreds of stones, and those who were beaten down must have been buried by what hit them.” “Yes, I suppose so,” said the doctor anxiously; “but we’ve something else to think of now.” “Don’t say the mules have stampeded, sir?” cried Griggs anxiously. “No; they’re grazing peacefully enough at present, but there’s something worse.” “Then give a pull with the lads at that rope, sir, and let me get out of this. One minute; the lanthorn first.” The doctor raised the lanthorn, and his first act was to blow it out before joining at the rope and hauling the searcher to the platform. “What is it, sir?” cried Griggs anxiously. “Come and see,” was the reply. The doctor made his way through the hole and crossed the chamber into which it opened, before entering the next, closely followed by the boys and Griggs, who caught up their rifles as they passed them, dragging the ropes as they went. As they entered the second chamber it was to see the doctor join Bourne at the window-opening, while beyond them stood Wilton sheltering himself behind a patch of bushy growth hanging from above, as he stood watching something intently through the doctor’s double glass. “See any more, Wilton?” said the doctor anxiously. “Scores,” was the reply, given without the speaker turning his head. “You can see for yourself; they’re collecting together on the very edge of the cliff away there, and at first they stood gazing down into the depression.” “Do you think they saw you?” said the doctor hoarsely. “Oh no, I feel sure that they did not at first, and I have kept in shelter since; but they have caught sight of something else.” “What?” cried Griggs. “Ah! You there?” said Wilton sharply. “You had better come and have a look through this glass; you may be able to tell what race they are.” “Perhaps,” said Griggs shortly; “but what is it they can see?” “The ponies and mules.” “Are you sure?” “Yes; there was one of the men, a chief apparently, pointing down at them. I could see it plainly through the glass.” “Indians, Ned,” whispered Chris. “They must have been following us all this time, and we’re in for it now.” <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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