Adventures in Many Lands | Page 3

had seen the pack returning, and that the worst
was in store for him. But at length, about noon, the brute went out and
did not come back.
Spencer waited and waited, fearing to move lest the creature should
only be outside, fearing to tarry lest he should miss his only chance of
escaping. After about an hour of this suspense he crept to the mouth of
the cave. No living creature was within sight. He got upon his faltering

feet, and hurried away as fast as his weakness would permit; but his
condition was so deplorable that he had not covered a mile when he
collapsed in a faint.
Fortune, however, favours the brave; and although he fell where he
might easily have remained for years without being discovered, he was
found the same day by a party of Boers, who dressed his wounds, gave
him food and drink (which he had not touched for two days), and
helped him by easy stages to the coast.
Being a man of iron constitution, he made a rapid and complete
recovery, but his wrist, ankle, arms, and thigh still bear the marks of the
hideous teeth which, but for his marvellous strength of will, would
have torn him, living, to shreds.

II
THE VEGA VERDE MINE
Jim Cayley clambered over the refuse-heaps of the mine, rejoicing in a
tremendous appetite which he was soon to have the pleasure of
satisfying.
There was also something else.
Little Toro, the kiddy from Cuba--"Somebody's orphan," the Spaniards
of the mine called him, with a likely hit at the truth--little Toro had
been to the Lago Frio with Jim, to see that he didn't drown of cramp or
get eaten by one of the mammoth trout, and had hinted at dark doings
to be wrought that very day, at closing time or thereabouts.
Hitherto, Jim had not quite justified his presence at the Vega Verde
mine, some four thousand feet above sea-level in these wilds of
Asturias. To be sure, he was there for his health. But Mr. Summerfield,
the other engineer in partnership with Alfred Cayley, Jim's brother, had,
in a thoughtless moment, termed Jim "an idle young dog," and the
phrase had stuck. Jim hadn't liked it, and tried to say so. Unfortunately,

he stammered, and Don Ferdinando (Mr. Summerfield) had laughed
and gone off, saying he couldn't wait.
Now it was Jim's chance. He felt that this was so, and he rejoiced in the
sensation as well as in his appetite and the thought of the excellent soup,
omelette, cutlets, and other things which it was Mrs. Jumbo's privilege
to be serving to the three Englishmen (reckoning Jim in the three) at
half-past one o'clock precisely.
Toro had made a great fuss about his news. He was drying Jim at the
time, and Jim was saying that he didn't suppose any other English
fellow of fifteen had had such a splendid bathe. There were snow-peaks
in the distance, slowly melting into that lake, which well deserved its
name of "Cold."
"Don Jimmy," said young Toro, pausing with the towel, "what do you
think?"
"Think?" said Jimmy. "That I--I--I--I'll punch your black head for you
if you don't finish this j--j--j--job, and b--b--b--be quick about it."
He wasn't really fierce with the Cuban kiddy. The Cuban kiddy himself
knew that, and grinned as he made for Jim's shoulder.
"Yes, Don Jimmy," he said; "don't you worry about that. But I'm telling
you a straight secret this time--no figs about it."
Toro had picked up some peculiar English by association with the
Americans who had swamped his native land after the great war. Still,
it was quite understandable English.
"A s--s--s--straight secret! Then j--j--just out with it, or I'll
p--p--p--punch your head for that as well," said Jimmy, rushing his
words.
He often achieved remarkable victories over his affliction by rushing
his words. He could do this best with his inferiors, when he hadn't to
trouble to think what words he ought to use. At school he made

howling mistakes just because of his respectful regard for the masters
and that sort of thing. They didn't seem to see how he suffered in his
kindly consideration of them.
It was same with Don Ferdinando. Mr. Summerfield was a very great
engineering swell when he was at home in London. Jimmy couldn't
help feeling rather awed by him. And so his stammering to Don
Ferdinando was something "so utterly utter" (as his brother said) that
no fellow could listen to it without manifest pain, mirth, or impatience.
In Don Ferdinando's case, it was generally impatience. His time was
worth pounds a minute or so.
"All right," said Toro. "And my throat ain't drier than your back now,
Don Jimmy; so you can put your clothes on and