The Boy Aviators in Nicaragua; or, In League with the Insurgents

As he spoke there came a violent convulsion that almost threw Billy off his feet, – at the same moment a terrific puff of wind ripped out the tent pegs in spite of all Ben’s “double-gasketing” and the two occupants of it were struggling in its folds, while beneath them the earth shook and above the sky seemed to open and pour out a dreadful flood of living fire.

To Billy it seemed that his last hour had come. To make matters worse the oil had spilled out of the lamp as the tent collapsed and caught fire. The reporter, struggling desperately for release, realized this and shouted aloud, – not from any good he thought it might do, but from mere instinct. He could actually – or so it seemed to him – feel the flames at his legs when suddenly something ripped open the canvas that enveloped his head, and he felt the blessed air.

It was Ben Stubbs’ knife that had saved him.

“Close call that, mate,” commented the imperturbable Ben, as if he had just warned his companion not to step in front of a street-car, or something like that.

There was no time to answer. There came a deafening crash of thunder and another violent shaking of the earth. In the light of the blazing tent, which lit up the scene like a bonfire, they could see great trees crashing down and the forms of terrified wild animals rushing through them in a wild hope of escaping the fury of the earthquake and the storm. None of the fleeing wild beasts seemed to have the slightest fear of the men or even to notice them. Terror of the aroused forces of nature had overcome all their aversion to their human enemies.

“It’s a shame ter see all that good game going to waste,” was Ben’s only comment on the terrific scene that was taking place about them.

Billy looked at him in surprise. Was this man made of steel or iron? He seemed as impassive as either. From his companion’s calm demeanor Billy caught renewed courage and thought to himself, with a sort of desperate pride:

“Well if he can stand it I can.”

“How long is this likely to last?” Billy asked in a trembling voice of Ben, as the earth fairly heaved under the convulsions that now seemed to be rending its very crust.

“No telling, mate;” shouted Ben, with his mouth at Billy’s ear, “it may last an hour or a day – or not more’n five minutes more. Holy Moses – !”

The abrupt exclamation was called forth by an extraordinary sight.

From the Treasure Cliff, as the boys had christened it – there suddenly shot upward a tall pillar of flame, which died down again as abruptly. A sulphurous reek filled the air at the same moment.

Ben seized Billy by the arm with a grip that pained.

“Come on; run for your life – ” he shouted – “the whole blame mountain’s going.”

“Where are we to go?” gasped Billy, who shrank from the idea of the forest; where trees were crashing down every minute.

“Come on, I tell you, don’t stop to ax questions,” shouted Ben plainly excited, and Billy knew, – even in the turmoil in which his feelings then were, – that the peril must be serious indeed that would excite the cool-headed ex-prospector.

“That’s only the beginning,” shouted Ben as they ran, “if we stay here ten minutes longer our lives won’t be worth an old chew of terbacey.”

As he spoke he fairly dragged Billy along with him. Their way lay down the steep hill, and they stumbled and slipped, and fell down and scrambled up again like men fleeing from a remorseless enemy.

To Billy it all seemed like a hideous dream. Suddenly the whole scene was illumined by a fresh out-gush of flame from the summit of the treasure cliff. The amazing pillar of fire shot straight up for a height of fully fifty feet and blossomed out, whitely, as its summit into the resemblance of a huge fiery chrysanthemum. Even in his terror Billy could not help admiring, awestricken, the awful, majestic beauty of the sight. It was plain enough now to him what had happened, – the earthquake had opened up some hidden seam in the mountain, possibly that bottomless pit of the White Snakes and this pillar of fire was gushing upward from the bowels of the earth.

Ben, far from being struck with the overpowering majesty of the spectacle, seemed to regard it merely as a fresh cause for apprehension. By this time they were stumbling along through the forest; but the brilliant light of the volcanic flame behind them, made their way as light as day. Right across their way lay a huge fallen tree with a trunk fully forty feet in diameter. Ben uttered a cry of joy as he saw it.

“Quick, Billy, in under it!” he exclaimed, at the same time dragging the reporter to the ground and fairly pushing him under the massive trunk, as if he were afraid Billy would not obey quickly enough.

There was a low growl as he did so and a spotted form slunk away. It was a jaguar that had sought the same shelter as themselves; but such was the savage beast’s terror that it made no attempt to attack them and merely crouched, with its ears back and lashing tail, gazing at them from the other end of the trunk. After a few minutes it slunk off into the brightly illuminated jungle and they lost sight of it.

“That’s a wise beast,” remarked Ben, “purty near as wise as we are. Nothing like getting a roof over your head when there’s trouble of the kind that’s a comin’ around.”

As he spoke there was a tiny patter on the leaves all about them.

“Rain!” exclaimed Billy with some glee, recollecting the old New England idea that when rain breaks the worst of a thunderstorm is over.

“Rain,” scornfully snorted Ben, “it’s the kind of rain you couldn’t keep off with an umbrella, son.”

Billy looked at him puzzled.

“It’s what you might call a rocky rain,” explained Ben. “Hark!”

The light patter that Billy had heard rapidly increased to a rattling sound as if some giant were throwing gravel over the jungle. In a few minutes huge stones began to fall all about them and the blazing mountain to emit a roar like a thousand blast furnaces.

“Now do you see why we got under this tree?” demanded Ben, as the stones, thrown up from the mouth of the blazing pit, fell all about them, but, of course, did not harm them in their snug shelter.

Billy merely nodded, he was past speaking; but, with all his own alarm, and that was not a little, his mind still reverted to the boys. Could they ride out this awful night in safety?

How long they lay there, crouching low and listening to the terrible stony downpour about them Billy never knew, but it seemed a veritable eternity. From time to time wild beasts would creep under the same shelter with them without taking any more notice of the two men than if they had been of their own kind. This in itself – so unnatural was it – added to Billy’s alarm.

Suddenly, however, Ben uttered an exclamation.

“Don’t it appear to you, Billy, that she’s dying down at the top?” he asked, pointing to the great flowering pillar of flame. Billy looked, and for several minutes they both gazed at the volcanic blast furnace in silence. Then they uttered a glad cry.

There was no doubt about it, – the flame was dying down.

The incessant rain of stones too had ceased and the storm had resolved itself into frequent flashes and low growls of distant thunder. Billy gave a whoop of joy.

“Don’t holler till yer out of the wood, mate,” admonished Ben, “and we ain’t out of this yet, by a long shot.”

“But the worst is over, isn’t it?” asked Billy.

“Sure, the worst of the storm is; but we’ve got to get some place out of here, and there are two things we don’t want to run into, – one is Rogero’s army and the other is Injuns.”

“That’s so,” assented Billy, “have you any plan?”

“Wall,” drawled Ben, “the source of the San Juan River ought to be right around to the south of here some place, and I figure that by traveling in that direction we are bound to hit it, – if nothing hits us in the meantime. Then we can get a canoe somehow, and drift down to Greytown.”

“You’re the doctor,” remarked Billy, whose cheerfulness was fast returning.

A few hours later a dawn, – as soft and bright as if the events they had passed through had been a nightmare, – broke over the valley at their feet. It was hard for Billy to realize that the hours of horror they had gone through had been real; – but the huge stones that lay all about and the uprooted and lightning blasted trees that strewed the jungle gave but too vivid evidence that it all had been real. Suddenly a thought struck him.

The pillar of fire. It issued from the treasure cliff, and, – as nearly as he could judge, – from a spot right above the White Serpent’s Abyss! He turned to Ben with an anxious look on his face.

“Ben,” he said, “do you think that the passage is blocked?”

“What passage?” asked the practical Ben, who was looking over his revolver to make sure that it was in working order.

“Why the passage – the passage to the Toltec mines.”

Ben whistled.

“Son,” he replied, “there ain’t no more chance of that there passage being there to-day than there is that this yer gun wouldn’t blow my brains out if I pointed it at my head and pulled the trigger.”

This was bad news; as Billy knew that the boys had meant to come back with a properly equipped expedition and make a thorough investigation of the Toltec Valley. He recollected too Ben Stubbs’ bar gold that was cached there.