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From this journey the doctor and his son were now daily expected back. One of the Indians of their party had, indeed, already arrived, having been despatched in advance, a few days before, to announce their safe return.

Thus it came about that Templemore and Maud, while still talking, were not greatly surprised at the sudden appearance of Matava, who stated that he had come down with the doctor’s party, who would follow very quickly on his heels.

Maud, who knew the Indian and his mother well, received him kindly; and, to his great delight, was able to inform him that his ‘young master’ – as he always called Leonard Elwood – had returned to Georgetown, and was at present with them.

Matava had, indeed, expected this, for he had heard of Leonard’s intention at his last visit to the coast some six months before. He was greatly pleased to find he was not to be disappointed in his expectation. Moreover, the Indian declared, he had news for him – “news of the greatest importance” – and begged to be allowed to see him at once. So Maud sent him into the house – where he knew his way about perfectly – to find Leonard; and then, turning to Templemore, she said, laughing,

“I wonder what his ‘important’ intelligence can be? Some deeper secret than usual that his old nurse has to tell him, I suppose.”

“I hope it’s nothing likely to rouse a further desire to set off on this mad-cap expedition he has so long had in his mind,” Templemore returned; “for,” looking at her with a sigh, “if he should make up his mind to start, I am, in effect, pledged to go too, whether I wish or not.”

“Why should you expect it? and how are you obliged to go?” Maud inquired with evident uneasiness.

“I know that Leonard saw Dr. Lorien in London before he came out last, and had a long talk with him. When he learned of the expedition upon which the doctor was then setting out, he was much annoyed at being unable to join him. He said, however, that he should be in Georgetown himself in a few months, and hoped to see the doctor on his return; and he particularly asked him to try to collect for him all the information and particulars he could concerning the best route by which to make the journey to Roraima. Dr. Lorien told me all this before he left us, adding that he felt certain Leonard’s object in coming again to Georgetown was quite as much to arrange for an expedition as his ostensible one of looking after his property. And I know, too, from what I have seen since Leonard has been back, that his thoughts are full of the idea. You say he does not now talk much of it to you or to others?”

“No; and as I told you just now, we had begun rather to think he had given up his former romantic yearnings for adventure; and, when you have referred to them before him, I have thought that you were only teasing him a little about old times.”

“Oh dear no; by no means. Whatever he may say, or leave unsaid to you and his general acquaintances, he is, in his heart, just as much set upon it as ever.”

“It is odd, that,” Maud observed thoughtfully, “because he used to be so fond of telling us about his dreams and visions and all the castles in the air and half-mystical imaginings he used to build upon them. But,” she went on slowly, “I have noticed that, since his long absence from us, Leonard Elwood is very different from what he was as I remember him. He seems, at times, so reserved and distant, I almost feel inclined to call him ‘Mr. Elwood’ instead of ‘Leonard.’ And he is, in a manner, unsociable, too. He is so preoccupied always, so silent, and so wrapped up in himself, that you generally have to wait, if you speak to him, while he collects his thoughts – brings them back from the distant skies or wherever they have gone a-wandering – before he replies to you. Not that he is intentionally cool or distant, I think; and I am sure he is just as good-hearted as ever. Yet there is a change of some sort. Stella says the same. And, do you know, he sometimes gives me a sort of feeling as though he were not English at all, but of some other race, and that he feels half out-of-place amongst us, a fish out of water, as it were? I wonder whether he is in love!” And Maud gave a ringing little laugh.

Templemore shook his head.

“If he were, it would be with some young lady on the other side of the Atlantic,” he returned. “And he would not be desirous of prolonging his stay on this side. No; I know what is the matter with him. He talks freely enough to me. And, now that he is expecting Dr. Lorien back, he is gradually working himself up into a state of excitement and expectation. He has quite made up his mind for some news or information – Heaven only knows why – and that is what makes him by turns restless and preoccupied. If, therefore, what Matava has to tell has anything to do with what I know to be so much in his thoughts, it may be the means of deciding him to go; and then I should have to go too.”

“But why? I don’t see what it has to do with you, Jack.”

“It has this to do with me, dear Maud,” said Templemore, taking her hand; “Leonard, some time ago, made me a very handsome – to me a very tempting – offer if I would make up my mind to start with him on this vague expedition. He offered me £300 clear, he paying all expenses, and giving me, besides, half of whatever came out of it. Unfortunately for myself, I am not now in a position to say ‘no’ to such an offer. I have been, now, nearly a year waiting for something to ‘turn up.’ My mother has barely enough to live on, and depends upon me for ordinary comforts, to say nothing of little luxuries; and what I had saved up from former engagements is steadily getting less and less, and will shortly disappear. I do wish with all my heart I could get anything else, almost, rather than this wild-goose affair of Leonard’s. Yet nothing has offered itself; so what am I to do? For your sake, for the hope of being able one day to provide a home for you – ”

“Nay, Jack,” Maud interposed, with a deep flush, “do not say for my sake. I would not have you set out on an enterprise of danger and difficulty for my sake. But I see clearly enough you must do it, if it be again offered, for your mother’s sake. Yes, for hers, you must.” The girl hesitated, and it was easy to see she found it hard to say the words, but she went on bravely, “So, I repeat, if it be again offered, you must accept it, Jack. And be sure I will look after your mother, and comfort her while you are away.”

“That is spoken like my own dear girl,” Templemore answered with emotion. “Yes, I cannot well refuse; and I know I may look to you to console my mother. You will comfort each other.”

Just then they heard Leonard’s voice calling out in excited tones for Templemore. A moment or two later he came rushing out of the house.

“Jack, Jack!” he cried. “Such a strange thing! Here is our opportunity! Matava has brought some extraordinary news!”

Leonard was so incoherent in his excitement, that it was some time before his hearers grasped his meaning.

His news amounted, in effect, to this. A white man had been staying for some time near the Indian village at which Carenna and her son Matava lived; and he had had many talks with both about a project for ascending the mountain of Roraima. It being an arduous undertaking, he sought the co-operation of one or two other white men; and Leonard’s old nurse had urged him to communicate with her young master, who would shortly be in Georgetown, assuring him that he would be the very one – from the interest and enthusiasm he would feel – to join him and help him to achieve success if success were possible. Matava, who knew of Dr. Lorien’s presence in the district, had suggested to the stranger to go to see him, and a meeting had thus been brought about. The doctor would tell him the result; but the main thing was that the stranger had sent an invitation to Leonard to join him and to bring, if he pleased, one other white man, but no more. The doctor was now at the Settlement, near the mouth of the Essequibo, transferring to the steamer, from the Indian canoes in which they had been brought down the river, his botanical treasures and other trophies of his journey. If Leonard wished to go back with the canoes and the Indians who were with them, he would have to let them know at once, and they would wait. Otherwise they would be on their way back in a day or two; which would involve the organising of a fresh expedition – a matter of great trouble – should Leonard make up his mind to proceed later.

The enthusiastic Leonard needed no time to make up his mind.

“I shall go,” said he. “If you will come too, Jack, I shall be only too glad. But, if not, I may be able to find some one else; or I shall go alone. So I shall send word at once to keep the boats and the Indians.”

“But,” objected Maud Kingsford, “consider! You know nothing of this stranger; he may be a blackleg, an escaped murderer or desperado, or all sorts of things.”

“No, no! Carenna knows. She has sent word that I can trust this man, and she knows. She is too fond of me to let me get mixed up with any doubtful character. Dr. Lorien, too, and Harry have seen him, and talked with him, and think well of him; so Matava says. I shall know more when I see them in a day or two. Meantime, I shall keep the canoes and Indians, and risk it.”

Then he rushed off to have a further talk with Matava, and, as he said, see about getting the Indian “some grub.”

Jack and Maud, left alone, looked at each other in dismay. It had been one thing to talk vaguely of what they would do in case Leonard should take what at the time seemed a very unlikely step. It was quite another to be thus suddenly brought face to face with it.

Maud turned very pale and seemed about to faint. She felt keenly how hard it would be to see her lover depart upon an adventure of this uncertain character, the end or duration of which no one could even guess at. But she recovered her self-possession with an effort and, looking steadily at Templemore, said,

“What you said you would do for our sakes is to be very quickly put to the test, it seems. You – will – go, Jack?”

“Yes,” he answered firmly; “since it is your wish.”

“You must,” she answered. “It is hard to lose you; it will be hard for us both. But go – and go with a good heart. Be sure I will be a daughter to your mother while you are away.”

He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips.

“For your sake, dear Maud, I shall go,” he said. “For your sake and for my mother’s; in the hope that some success may result; but not – Heaven knows – for the mere sordid hope of gain.”

CHAPTER II
MONELLA

Two days later Dr. Lorien and his son arrived in Georgetown and, after taking rooms at the Kaieteur Hotel, went at once to call upon the Kingsfords. This haste was, in reality, prompted by Harry, whose thoughts were bent upon his hopes of once more seeing the pretty Stella; but the ostensible reason that he urged upon his father was somewhat different, and had to do with the message of which they were the bearers from the white stranger they had met in their travels.

At the evening dinner the matter was discussed, Mr. Kingsford and his son Robert and the others being present.

The two travellers had much to tell of their adventures, which had been full of both interest and danger, apart from the matter of the stranger’s message.

“And yet, I think,” observed the doctor, thoughtfully, “our meeting with this stranger, and his behaviour, impressed me more than almost all else that happened to us.”

“How so? What is he like?” asked Mr. Kingsford.

“In figure he is very tall; of a most commanding stature and appearance. I am not short.”

“Why, you are over six feet!” put in Harry.

“And yet I almost think, if he had held his arm straight out, I could have walked under it with my hat on, and without stooping.”

“I’m sure you could, dad,” Harry corroborated.

“As to age – there I confess myself at sea. As a doctor I am accustomed to judge of age; yet he thoroughly puzzled me. If I could believe in the possibility of a man’s being a hundred and fifty years old and yet remaining strong and hale and vigorous, I should not be surprised if he had claimed that age. On the other hand, if one could believe in a young, stalwart, muscular man of thirty with the face and white hair of an old-looking, but not very old man, then I could have believed it if I had been told he was no more than thirty. In fact, he was a complete puzzle to me; a mystery. But the most remarkable thing about him was the expression of his eyes; they were the most extraordinary I have ever seen in my life.”

“Wild – mad-looking?” Templemore asked.

“Oh no, by no means; quite the reverse. Very steady and piercing; but wonderfully fascinating. Mild and kind-looking to a fault; and yet changing to a look of quiet, almost stern resolution that had in it nothing hard, or cruel, or disagreeable. In fact, I hardly know how to describe that look, or convey an idea of it, except by saying that it was something between the gaze of a lion and that of a Newfoundland dog. It had all the majesty, the magnanimity, the conscious power of the one, with the benevolence and wistful kindness and affection of the other. Never have I seen such an expression. I really did not know the human countenance could express the mingled characteristics one seemed to read so plainly in his – all kindly, all noble, all suggestive of sincerity and integrity.”

“You are enthusiastic!” said Robert, laughing.

The old doctor coloured up a little; then took out his handkerchief and wiped his face.

“I know it sounds strange to hear an old man of the world like me speak so forcibly about a man’s appearance,” he returned; “but, if it is true, I do not see why I should not say it. Ask Harry here.”

“I couldn’t take my eyes off his face,” Harry declared. “He fairly fascinated me. I felt I should have to do anything he told me; even to taking my pistol and killing the first person I met. I do believe I should have done it – or any other out-of-the way thing. And he made you feel, too, as though you liked him so, that you longed to do any mortal thing you could to please him.”

“What’s his name?” asked Templemore.

“Monella.”

“Monella? Is that all? No other name?”

“None that I heard. And as to his nationality, I cannot even so much as guess. I have been in Central Africa, in Siam, in India, in China, in Russia, and have picked up a smattering of the languages of those countries; but this man jabbered away in all; additionally, he spoke French, German, Spanish and Portuguese, besides English. So much I know. How many more he speaks I can’t say.”

“Injun,” said Harry.

“Oh yes, I forgot that. We had some of three different tribes with us, and he spoke to each in his own tongue.”

“And what is his object in going in for this Roraima exploration?” asked Mr. Kingsford.

“He has a curious theory. He declares that the ancient island-city of El Dorado – or Manoa – was not at the lower end or part of the Pacaraima mountains, as some have surmised, but at the further and highest point of the range, which is Roraima itself. He holds that the great lake or inland sea of Parima once washed around the bases of all those mountains, making islands of what are now their summits; and that the highest and most inaccessible of all, Roraima, was selected by the Manoans for their fastness, and for the site of their wonderful ‘Golden City.’”

“But that theory won’t help him to get up there, will it?” Jack asked.

“Ah, but there is something else. He states that he was brought up by some people, the last members of what had once been a nation, but has now died out. They lived in a secluded valley high up on the slopes of the Andes. He has travelled all over the world, and went back to these friends of his, only to find that they were all dead, save one, and that he was fast dying. This survivor gave him an ancient parchment with plans and diagrams, by means of which, it was declared, the top of the mountain can be reached, where will be found whatever traces may be left of the famous city of Manoa or El Dorado. This man, Monella, has other old parchments which he can read, but I could not – he showed me some – and from these he declared his belief that there is almost unlimited wealth to be gained by those who find the site of this wonderful city.”

All this time Leonard had been listening with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, though in silence. Here he glanced with a satisfied smile at Templemore, and said,

“There’s method in all that; at all events he is not undertaking the thing in a haphazard way and without something to go upon, that’s certain.”

Jack did not look hopeful.

“It is probably just as wild and hopeless an adventure all the same,” was his reply. “What ‘directions’ or ‘plans’ or ‘diagrams’ can help a man to-day after the lapse of hundreds and hundreds of years – even if they were reliable, and the old party who handed them over was not mad – as he probably was?”

“As to Monella,” observed the doctor, “I could see no sign of madness in him. He is one of the most intelligent, best-informed men I ever met. I cannot say anything, of course, of his informant.”

“Has he any money, do you suppose – this man?” Robert asked.

“I don’t know. But he pays the Indians well, and has got together a lot of stores, it seems; which must have been a costly thing to do. They have been brought over the mountains from Brazil. And he specially said you need not trouble to load yourself up with much in the way of stores – only sufficient to get to him. After that you will be all right. And he said nothing about money being wanted. But,” and here the doctor hesitated, “he is very particular as to the character and disposition of those he purposes to work with. In fact, he subjected me to a long sort of cross-examination respecting our friend Leonard here. He had already gained a lot of information about him from the old Indian nurse, it seemed, and I was surprised at the details he had picked up and remembered. In fact, Master Leonard,” continued the doctor, addressing the young man, “he seemed to know you almost as well as if he had lived with you for years. And your friend Mr. Templemore, too, he seemed to know about him, and to expect that he would join you.”

“How could that be?” Jack demanded.

“Oh, from the old nurse and Matava, I suppose.”

“To tell you the honest truth,” Harry interposed, “I believe there’s some hocus-pocus business about those two. She is reputed to be a witch, you know; not a bad witch, but a good sort. And I quite believe Monella to be a wizard; also of a good sort. And when those two laid their heads together, they could know a lot between them, I suspect. I should not at all wonder if he were not magician enough to lead you to the ‘golden castle,’ or ‘city,’ or whatever it is, and find its hidden stores of gold. I wish I had a chance to join him. But dad’s wanting me somewhere else. So I am out of it.”

“Yes,” observed his father. “We have to go on to Rio, where I have some law business on. But we shall not be away a great while, and then we are going back to that district.”

“Going back?” said Templemore in surprise.

“Yes, there is a lot to be done there. It is a wonderful place for my sort of work, and we really saw but very little of it after all. So we are going again when we return from Rio; but I cannot at all tell when that may be.”

The doctor was a fine-looking specimen of a hardy, bronzed traveller. He was, as has been said, over six feet in height; his hair and beard were iron-grey, his complexion was a little florid beneath its tan, and his expression good-humoured and often jovial. His son, Harry, was somewhat slight in build, but wiry, and had been used to knocking about with his father. He was a young fellow with boundless animal spirits and plenty of pluck and courage. His ready kindness to every one made him a general favourite; and the lively, captivating Stella and he were special friends.

Mr. Kingsford asked the doctor whether any time had been estimated for the length of the expedition.

“That would be difficult,” Dr. Lorien answered. “Apart from the long and tedious journey there, there is the girdle of forest that surrounds Roraima to be cut through. That may take months, I am told.”

“Months!” The exclamation came from Maud who, with Stella, had been a silent but appreciative listener.

“Yes. It is a curious thing, but this forest belt is never approached even by any of the Indian tribes. They look upon it with superstitious awe and will not even go near it. Indeed, they all regard Roraima with a sort of horror. They declare there is a lake on the top guarded by demons and large white eagles, and that it will never be gazed on by mortal eyes; that in the forest that surrounds it are monstrous serpents – ‘camoodis’ they call them – larger far than any to be found elsewhere in the land; besides these, there are ‘didis’, gigantic man-apes, bigger and more ferocious and formidable than the African gorilla. Altogether, this wood has a very bad reputation, and no Indian will venture near it. Indeed, the mountain of Roraima and all its surroundings are looked upon as weird and uncanny. As a former traveller has expressed it, ‘its very name has come to be surrounded by a halo of dread and indefinable fear.’”

“How, then, is the necessary road to be made through this promising bit of woodland?” asked Templemore.

“There has been Monella’s difficulty,” returned the doctor. “But for that, doubtless, he would not have troubled about any one else’s joining him. But, though he is very popular amongst the Indians, they cannot get over their fear of the ‘demons’’ wood, as they call it. They are, in fact, quite devoted to him, for he has done much that has made him both loved and feared – as one must always be to gain the real devotion of these people. He has effected many wonderful cures amongst them, I was told; but, more than that, he has saved the lives of two or three by acts of great personal courage. So that, at last, he even prevailed upon them to enter the ‘haunted wood’ with him. But they are making very little progress, it appears; he cannot keep them together, and they give way to panic at the slightest thing and make a bolt of it; then he has to go hunting over the country for them, and it takes days to get them together again – and so on. He is in hopes that the presence and example of other white men will inspire them with greater confidence and courage.”

“A promising and inviting outlook, I must say,” said Jack, eyeing Leonard gravely.

“Never mind,” Leonard exclaimed with enthusiasm. “If he can face it, so can we; and if it is good enough for him to brave such difficulties, it is good enough for us. It only shows what sterling stuff he must be made of!”

At this Jack gave a sort of grunt that was clearly far from implying assent to Leonard’s view of the matter.

There was further talk, but it added little to the information given above; and, inasmuch as Leonard had already made up his mind, almost in advance, and had to ask no one’s permission but his own, he determined at once to set about the necessary preparations; and Jack Templemore – though with evident reluctance – agreed to accompany him.

“I have a list of all the things I took with me,” remarked Dr. Lorien, “and notes of a few that I afterwards found would have been useful and that I consequently regretted I had not taken; and also some specially suggested by the stranger Monella. You had better copy them all out carefully, for you will find it will save you a lot of time and trouble.”

Thus it came about that in less than a week their preparations were all made, and the two, with Matava as guide, were ready to set out. Matava had with him fourteen or fifteen Indians, who had formed the doctor’s party, and these, and the canoes with the stores on board, were soon after waiting at the Settlement, ready to make a start.

Then, one sunny day at the beginning of the dry season, the Kingsfords, with Mrs. Templemore, and the doctor and his son, all took the steamer to the “Penal Settlement” (a place a few miles inside the mouth of the Essequibo river, the starting place of all such parties), to see the young men off and wish them God speed. When it came to this point the struggle was a hard one for Maud and for Templemore’s mother; but they bore themselves bravely – outwardly at least. The three canoes put off amidst much fluttering of handkerchiefs, and soon all that could be seen of the adventurers were three small specks, gradually growing less and less, as the boats made their way up the bosom of the great Essequibo river – here some eight miles in width. Their intended journey had been kept more or less a secret; such had been the wish of him they were going to join. Hence no outside friends had accompanied the party to see them off. Those who knew of their going away thought they were only bent upon a hunting trip of a little longer duration than usual.

For two loving hearts left behind the separation was a trying one. For a few days Mrs. Templemore stayed on at ‘Meldona’ with Maud, and the presence of Dr. Lorien and the vivacious Harry helped to cheer them somewhat; but, when the doctor and his son started for Rio, the others returned sadly to the routine of their everyday life, with many anxious speculations and forebodings concerning the fortunes of the two explorers.