RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

May 19, 1907.

I was so restless early this morning that before daylight I was out exploring on the mountain-side.  By chance I came across a secret place just as the day was breaking.  Indeed, it was by the change of light as the first sun-rays seemed to fall down the mountain-side that my attention was called to an opening shown by a light behind it.  It was, indeed, a secret place—so secret that I thought at first I should keep it to myself.  In such a place as this either to hide in or to be able to prevent anyone else hiding in might on occasion be an asset of safety.

When, however, I saw indications rather than traces that someone had already used it to camp in, I changed my mind, and thought that whenever I should get an opportunity I would tell the Vladika of it, as he is a man on whose discretion I can rely.  If we ever have a war here or any sort of invasion, it is just such places that may be dangerous.  Even in my own case it is much too near the Castle to be neglected.

The indications were meagre—only where a fire had been on a little shelf of rock; and it was not possible, through the results of burning vegetation or scorched grass, to tell how long before the fire had been alight.  I could only guess.  Perhaps the mountaineers might be able to tell or even to guess better than I could.  But I am not so sure of this.  I am a mountaineer myself, and with larger and more varied experience than any of them.  For myself, though I could not be certain, I came to the conclusion that whoever had used the place had done so not many days before.  It could not have been quite recently; but it may not have been very long ago.  Whoever had used it had covered up his tracks well.  Even the ashes had been carefully removed, and the place where they had lain was cleaned or swept in some way, so that there was no trace on the spot.  I applied some of my West African experience, and looked on the rough bark of the trees to leeward, to where the agitated air, however directed, must have come, unless it was wanted to call attention to the place by the scattered wood-ashes, however fine.  I found traces of it, but they were faint.  There had not been rain for several days; so the dust must have been blown there since the rain had fallen, for it was still dry.

The place was a tiny gorge, with but one entrance, which was hidden behind a barren spur of rock—just a sort of long fissure, jagged and curving, in the rock, like a fault in the stratification.  I could just struggle through it with considerable effort, holding my breath here and there, so as to reduce my depth of chest.  Within it was tree-clad, and full of possibilities of concealment.

As I came away I marked well its direction and approaches, noting any guiding mark which might aid in finding it by day or night.  I explored every foot of ground around it—in front, on each side, and above.  But from nowhere could I see an indication of its existence.  It was a veritable secret chamber wrought by the hand of Nature itself.  I did not return home till I was familiar with every detail near and around it.  This new knowledge added distinctly to my sense of security.

Later in the day I tried to find the Vladika or any mountaineer of importance, for I thought that such a hiding-place which had been used so recently might be dangerous, and especially at a time when, as I had learned at the meeting where they did not fire their guns that there may have been spies about or a traitor in the land.

Even before I came to my own room to-night I had fully made up my mind to go out early in the morning and find some proper person to whom to impart the information, so that a watch might be kept on the place.  It is now getting on for midnight, and when I have had my usual last look at the garden I shall turn in.  Aunt Janet was uneasy all day, and especially so this evening.  I think it must have been my absence at the usual breakfast-hour which got on her nerves; and that unsatisfied mental or psychical irritation increased as the day wore on.