The Peril Finders Part 3

"But where does he come from?"

"Over yonder," said the American, nodding south-east. "I caught sight of him when I first woke this morning, ever so far away, and then forgot all about him for hours, when I saw him again, and he had crawled nearer, about a hundred yards an hour, I should say. He looked so queer that I went over to him, and tried, as soon as I had got over the first look, to find out who and what he was."

"Well," said Christopher eagerly; "who is he?"

"You know as much as I do, squire, and that's nothing," was the reply; "but I guess."

"Yes: what?" cried Ned.

"Strikes me, young sir, that, he's some poor chap who has been regularly swallowed up in the great desert of salt plains over yonder. Lost his way, and his wits too, seemingly. Lots have been in my time."

"What, crossing the plains?" said Chris.

"Yes. It's like getting into quicksands. I never knew of any one before getting back again after once getting well in. It's going straight away to death to go there. This one's crawled out, poor chap, but it's only to die. Look at him; he's as good as dead now, all but his eyes."

"Yes, it is horrible," said Ned, in a voice hardly above a whisper.

"How can anybody be so foolish as to go?"

"Ah, that's it," said the American, with a harsh chuckle. "They've seen yellow, or fancied they have, and been dreaming about it till it's too much for them, and away they go--mad."

"Yellow?" said Chris wonderingly. "I don't understand you."

"He's making fun of us, Chris."

"Not a bit of it, my lad," said the American. "I mean it. He's had the yellow fever badly. I had an awful fit of it when I first came out here and took up land to grow things that won't grow. There were plenty of old settlers and people here in those days, who had come cram full of stories about the salt desert yonder and what it hid. They said that the old mission fathers who first came here to travel about among the Indians discovered an old city there, half buried in the drifting sand, and beyond it two great hills. They said that there was a great treasure in the city, left by the old people who had lived there, and that the hills beyond were of solid gold, waiting for any one who would risk all there was to meet and go. They said he'd come back the richest man in the world--if he did come back at all."

"And did anybody go?" said Chris breathlessly.

"Oh yes, my lad, as I said before; but no one had ever heard of any coming back to be rich. I didn't go. Hadn't pluck enough, I s'pose, or else you might have seen me come back like that poor chap there. Don't look very rich, do he?"

"No: horrible," said Chris again. "Look, Ned; father's doing something to him."

"Yes," said the American grimly, "and I expect we shall all have to do something to him soon."

"What?" cried Ned excitedly.

"Dig," replied the American, almost in a whisper, and the boys looked about at the beautiful scene spreading around, and shuddered as they felt the full meaning of their neighbour's words.

"Ah, 'tain't nice to think about, is it, lads?" continued the American; "much better to stop here and grow yellow oranges--not that I've found it so," he continued, with a sigh. "It's all been one horrible disappointment. Still one is alive and well, while that poor fellow--"

"But he's very, very old," said Chris.

"Old? Awful. Looks old too, from what he's gone through. I should say he has starved, and been dried-up with thirst, and been hunted by those brutes of plain Indians, and had all his seven senses driven out of him.

But maybe I'm all wrong, after all."

"Oh no: I think you're right," said Chris eagerly. "You must be."

"Must, eh? P'raps it's all my fancy."

"How could a man come like that, then?" cried Ned.

"That's what we've got to learn, my lad; but most likely we shall never know, for, take my word, that poor chap has found his way to this place at last as a quiet spot where he may lie down and die."

"And my father won't let him," cried Chris excitedly. "Look, he's going to do something for the poor fellow now."

The little group moved towards where the doctor was bending over his new patient; but he motioned to them to keep back, and all waited, watching him for the next ten minutes, when he beckoned to Mr Bourne, who stepped forward, to find the stranger lying motionless and with his eyes closed.

"Dead?" he whispered in awe-stricken tones, as he gazed down pityingly at the wasted object before him.

"As near to it as he can be to remain alive," replied the doctor. "I can't let him lie here. Ask Wilton to help you bring the loose door from the long shed, and we'll get him upon it and carry him there."

"Yes," said Mr Bourne quickly, and he hurried back to the others.

"Come for the physic?" said the American, smiling; but on hearing what was required he eagerly joined in to help, and in a few minutes the roughly-made door was placed beside the unfortunate man, who was drawn upon it and carried into the long open shed and placed upon a heap of sweet new Indian corn-husks over which a blanket had been laid, a home-made pillow being fetched by Chris from the shanty the party shared, and as soon as the stranger felt the restfulness of his shaded easy couch he uttered a low sigh, opened his eyes, and looked up in the doctor's, but only to gaze in a strange, far-off, stony way.

"Going to give him something now, doctor?" said the American.

"Not yet," was the reply. "He is quite exhausted, and disposed to sleep. Did you give him anything?"

"Mug o' water with a drop of cold tea in. He seemed choked with thirst."

"Then I will wait and see if he sleeps before I do more."

"But say, mister," said the American; "I didn't show him the way here so as to plant him on to you. I thought you'd give him some pills now and a draught to take in the morning. I could have done this for the poor chap. Hadn't you better do something of that sort and let me take him back? What do you say to bleeding him?"

"When he has scarcely a drop of blood left in his body?"

"Oh, all right; I don't understand that sort of thing, doctor. But I don't want you to think I meant to shuffle from helping a man out of a hole."

"Oh, I don't think that, Griggs," said the doctor warmly; "but the poor fellow must not be moved. He's in the last stage of exhaustion, and must have suffered terribly."

"Precious old un, ain't he?" said the American, gazing down at the head no longer covered by the rough cap of puma-skin that the patient had worn, and all noting the yellow, half-bald head and the long, thin, perfectly white hair and beard.

"A man of seventy, or more, I should say," replied the doctor gravely.

"Hundred and seventy, you mean," said the American sharply.

"No: about the age I said," replied the doctor.

"Well," cried the American, in a tone full of the surprise he felt, "yew do surprise me, doctor!"

"Let's leave him for a bit," said the doctor, as he saw that their visitor's eyes remained closed. "Perhaps he will sleep for a while."

The party backed out of the airy shed used for storing corn in the season, and often utilised in the hottest weather for a sleeping-place by the occupants of the shanty, and the strange visitor was left alone.

"I feel mean over this job, neighbours," said the American, as they moved towards the shanty; "and now I'm going to be meaner and meaner, as I am here and had no time to see to my vittling department. Got anything to eat?"

"A very poor spread, Griggs," said Wilton, smiling, "but of course we shall be glad if you'll share it."