CHAPTER XXIII
GORUBA IS CAUGHT
On the morning after his discovery of Rabeh's hoard, Royce made a second visit to the cave to search for the exit which he felt sure must lead to the outer air.
Carrying a lighted candle, he walked slowly round the walls, examining them carefully. They appeared to be in their natural state—rough, irregular, knobby, but with no hole or gap large enough to admit a man.
Then he tried the floor. It consisted of slabs of stone. He tapped them here and there, but they gave no hollow ring; apparently they were solid. The ivory tusks were ranged in such orderly rows that it seemed hardly likely the entrance was beneath them.
Puzzling over what to do next, he suddenly thought of testing the place with the candle flame. If there were an opening, there must be a current of air. He returned to the slab in the wall of the well and closed it as tightly as was possible from the inside; then placed the candle at several spots on the floor of the cave, one after another, and, retiring to a distance, watched the flame for signs of flickering.
But he had no success; the flame only flickered in the current caused by his own movements.
"Where can the entrance be?" he said to himself. "The air is stuffy, but not foul. I'll try the passage."
He tapped the wall on each side; no sound rewarded him. Then he placed the candle on the floor near the threshold of the cave, and ejaculated "Got it!" when he saw the flame flicker gently. Hastening to the spot, he knelt down and passed his hand slowly over the slabs, and felt a distinct though slight draught at the seam between two of them.
He pushed at each of the slabs. They did not move. He got up, and jumped on them as forcibly as the low roof allowed, still without effect. Then, lifting the candle, he examined the walls.
At his left hand, near the roof, was a single staple, like those in the wall of the well. It could not be intended for climbing—what, then, was the use of it? Standing under it, he grasped it and pulled. It did not yield. Then he pushed, more and more forcibly. The staple did not move, but he fancied that the slab on which he was standing sank a little.
Looking down, he saw, just below the floor, a narrow jutting ledge of rock. With his left foot on this, he pushed at the slab with his right, still shoving at the staple with his hand. The stone began to revolve, slowly, with a slight grinding sound. Presently it stood upright in the middle of the passage, and moved no more.
Royce now saw beneath him half a dozen steep steps leading down into gloom. He descended carefully, lighting his way with the candle, and found himself in a passage, narrower than the upper one, but much cooler and less stuffy. From the direction of the cave there was a steady draught.
Moving against it, Royce, after about fifty paces, caught sight of a glint of light ahead. He pressed on eagerly, and discovered that the passage ended in an opening roughly circular in shape, about a yard in diameter. Passing on, he came out into a tangle of brushwood through which he saw trees. He forced his way forward, and stood in a clump of woodland. There was nobody to be seen, no sound. He stole cautiously among the trees until he came to the edge of the clump. It looked over open country. Glancing round, taking care to keep hidden from observation, he saw at last the fort, on the hill about two hundred yards away.
"This must be the clump we noticed," he thought. "Now I understand why Goruba has not used it for cover in attacking us. He doesn't want any of his men to discover the secret entrance to his hoard. Of course, with the slab down they couldn't find the hoard itself, but evidently he doesn't mean to be bothered with inconvenient questions. Well, Mr. Goruba, I have caught you out. I only wish I could catch you."
Royce made his way back quickly, feeling that he was perhaps risking a good deal in leaving the men so long. He carefully replaced the two slabs, ascended the wall of the well, much to Kulana's relief, and, having assured himself that the garrison were at their posts and that the enemy had made no move, he sat down to devise a trap for Goruba.
"I suppose the fellow will come again," he thought. "Why does he come at all? A visit to the cave and no farther would prove that his treasure is safe. I suppose his idea in penetrating right into the fort is to spy, perhaps to frighten the men into deserting me. I mean to stop your little game, my man."
His first notion was to place a couple of sentries in the cave, to catch Goruba on his next appearance. In the darkness the giant would not see them. But he soon gave that up. It would probably be better not to let the men know anything about the cave for the present. Besides, he could not tell when Goruba would pay his next visit, and the superstitious negroes would never endure a long wait in the dark.
After long puzzling, Royce hit on a plan that seemed likely to be successful. He attached a thin cord to the slab in the well, at a point where it would not be seen in the semi-darkness by any one entering from the passage.
Carrying the cord round the well, he passed it through hooks of his own devising—nails driven into the brickwork and bent almost double. At the top he fastened similar hooks to the wall of the well-yard, near the floor, drew the cord through them, and finally tied it to the topmost of a short column of empty meat tins in his own room.
When this was done, he went down to the well again, turned the slab gently on its axis, and in a moment or two heard a slight clatter as the tins were overturned.
"I call that a stroke of genius," he said to himself. "The question is, will the sound scare Goruba away? He is bound to hear it, though it is not so loud as I expected. But, after all, there is nothing to make him connect the sound with his own movements, so I fancy there will be a little surprise in store for him."
At dusk that evening he sat in his room, watching the pile of tins, and waiting eagerly for the alarm signal. But it did not come. All night he remained awake, unable to sleep from excitement. Not a sound broke the stillness.
Next evening he took up his post at the same time. Tired and sleepy, he was just falling into a doze when the tins fell with a crash that made him jump.
Pulling off his boots, he slipped very quietly into the well-yard and stooped below the top of the wall. He knew that he was in plenty of time, for the intruder was sure to move slowly and with caution.
With his electric torch in his left hand and his revolver in his right, he passed round to the side of the well opposite to where the staples were placed. In a few seconds he heard a slight rustle; the man was climbing over the coping of the well. He saw his form, a huge black shape against the dark blue sky.
The man stood listening for a moment, then crept towards the doorway leading to Royce's quarters. Royce stole on tiptoe after him, and just as he reached the opening pressed the button of the torch. The negro turned instantly, and the bright ray from the torch flashed upon the startled eyes of Goruba.
Royce had expected astonishment, even dismay. He was not prepared for the extraordinary readiness, decision, presence of mind with which the negro would act. Without an instant's hesitation, Goruba sprang at him with uplifted knife. Royce fired, but either he missed or there was no stopping power in the bullet, for in another fraction of a second he was hurled back towards the well, narrowly escaping toppling over the coping into its depths.
But if Royce missed, so did Goruba, dazzled, perhaps, by the light of his torch. His knife crashed on the coping, and was shivered to pieces. Next moment Royce found himself for the second time locked in the giant's embrace.
Exerting all his strength, he strove to prevent the negro from hurling him into the well. He shouted. Answering shouts came from the men. And then he discovered, to his surprise, that Goruba was not so formidable an antagonist as when they had first met. His grip was not so firm; all the pressure came from his left arm.
Encouraged by this, Royce grappled him closely, tried a back-throw he had learnt in jiu-jitsu, and had Goruba on his back as the Hausas, headed by Kulana, came shouting into the yard.
Royce was only just in time to prevent them from plunging their knives into the struggling negro. At his order, they tied him up with cords, so tightly that he howled with pain.
"Loosen them!" cried Royce. "Don't hurt him."
Kulana stared.
"Him hurt massa," he protested. "Him fit for kill all same."
"No; that's not our way," said Royce firmly. "We've got him, and we'll keep him safe. I hope this is the end of our troubles."
The Hausas, grumbling sullenly, carried Goruba into the passage next to Royce's room, and laid him against the wall. It was then found that his right wrist was sprained.
"He must have struck it against the wall when he missed me and smashed his knife," thought Royce. "That accounts for his feebler grip."
To the further disgust of his men, he bound a wet rag tightly round Goruba's wrist.
"Now for a good night's rest for once," he thought. "We shall not be attacked to-night, at any rate."