"What do you see?" asked Venning, breathlessly, glancing quickly at
Mr. Hume's face, and back at the wall of rock.
"I should like Muata to be here. It is a good point."
"What, sir—what?"
"A woman's skirt on the dew, lad. See, a man would pass through those two rocks there and leave no mark; but a woman, with the swing of her skirt, wipes a spread of dew off on either side. You can see the dark smudge in the glister of the dewdrops."
"I see," said Venning, starting forward towards two rocks with a passage between.
"Steady, lad. Follow me."
He went forward to the rocks, which were almost under the right wall, and inch by inch examined the stony ground.
"The direction should be there," he said, pointing ahead; "but there's nothing but a dead wall."
They ranged up and down in a fruitless attempt to pick up the lost spoor, and came back to the two rocks.
"Maybe she did not pass this way, sir."
"A sign is a sign, and a spoor a spoor. She passed between these rocks this morning."
"Then she must have come down the wall;" and Venning, stepping forward, placed his hand on the rock. He started back and stared up at the rock. Then he touched it again, with a curious look in his face, and next placed his ear against it. "Come here, sir."
Mr. Home went forward, and, placing his hand on the rock, felt it vibrating. Then he placed his ear to the rock.
"What do you hear?" asked Venning.
"A noise like the roar of the sea."
"Or the rush of a great body of water."
"Seek ye the honey-bee, O Spider."
They whipped round at the mocking voice, and saw the Inkosikase standing a few feet off, having come upon them with great quietness.
"Where is the young chief?" asked Mr. Hume at once.
"Be not afraid, great one. He sits over the 'familiar' of his father, learning wisdom and strong medicine. And is your medicine at fault, great one, that you should set snares in the path for a woman, as boys do for the coneys?"
She laughed, and the great one caught hold of his beard, as he eyed her, wondering whether the time had come to make her speak.
"Is it honey ye seek, O Spider, young chief who watches always?"
"It is honey, mother." Venning tapped the rock. "Ye may hear the bees humming within. We would enter the hive."
She laughed again. "Ohe! ye are too wise for me, ye two. If I did not show you the way, I see ye would find it."
She stepped past them, walked a few paces, then, with one hand upreaching to a knob of rock, and a naked toe in a notch, she climbed up the height of a man, stepped to a ledge, and held a hand down to Venning. A few steps along the ledge, when they stood by her side, brought them to a depression in the cliff. Removing a few stones, she said with a look of sadness—
"Behold the depth that was my secret, and is now yours."
A gush of moist air came out of the dark opening, bringing with if the sound of hoarse mutterings. Now they had found the opening, they did not know what to do, far; it was not inviting, and they stood looking at it warily:
"You would have me enter first," she said quietly. "Come, then, for it is not all dark within."
She disappeared, and Mr. Hume followed next, with a whisper to Venning that they must not let her get out of sight. A little way they passed along a narrow passage, facing a rushing current of moist air, and then stepped out into a cavern dimly lit by a shaft of light that crept through the roof. The woman crossed the floor, and they followed her down another passage, into another cavern larger than the first. This, too, was dimly lit, and as they stood with a feeling of mystery and uncertainty that comes to men when they quit the surface bathed in light fop the-dark underground, they felt the floor vibrate under their feet, and heard, as if the source of the uproar were near at hand, a great booming with a shrill note at intervals.
"Would ye enter further?" asked the woman.
"Have ye entered further, mother?"
"Yebo, 'Ngonyama (lion)."
"Then lead on."
"Listen, Ngonyama; listen, Indhlovu (elephant). There is a path for the lion in the veld, and another for the elephant in the forest; but this path is only for those who know it, and are welcome to those who made it. The sun shines without. It were better if Ngonyama and the Spider blinked their eyes in the light Mid the warmth."
"If ye have trodden the way, so will we. Lead on."
"Ye lose your wisdom, great one; but see, I go;" and she went from the cave into a vaulted passage, in which they encountered the blast laden with moisture, that made the walls slimy and the floor a series of puddles.
The way was dark, and they splashed and stumbled in growing discomfort in the footsteps of the leader, who kept on at a quick walk, showing a thorough familiarity with the passage. Sometimes, as they could tell from the sound, the roof of the passage extended to great heights; at others it closed in till they had to stoop their heads. But their guide kept on without a pause, and presently, to their great relief, they saw ahead a faint reflection of the light upon a wet slab of rock. Hurrying on, they emerged from the passage into a vast chamber, across which, though there was light enough to distinguish each other, they could not see. Mr. Hume took a step forward, with his face turned up, in an effort to see the roof through the films of vapour that floated overhead.
"Stop, Ngonyama—see to your footing;" and the woman's hand restrained him.
He started back involuntarily, for at his feet there was a yawning abyss, out of which came the sound of rushing waters, and the curling wraiths of vapours, but so deep and so dark that the eye could detect no gleam of the flood beneath.
"Thanks, mother."
"Ohe! Ngonyama, remember I stood between you and death that time."
She moved away to the right, and they followed, going on a ledge which skirted the yawning abyss.
It was a perilous passage, and both of them would have been glad to turn back after they had gone a few steps, if the woman had suggested it. A feeling of vertigo seized them, so that they had to stop, leaning away from them for fear of falling over out of sheer dizziness. When they did move again, they groped for a footing with a complete feeling of helplessness, expecting every moment to slip on the slimy rock, and the further they advanced the worse they felt, for it would be as bad to turn back as go on. Looking back, Mr. Hume at one pause saw a little splatter of flame. Venning had groped for a match and struck a light; but before he could see anything by its reflection, Mr. Hume blew it out, and placed his heavy hand on the boy's shoulders to steady him.
"Worst thing you could do," he said.
"It's so dark," muttered the boy.
"Dark enough, but she's gone ahead safely enough."
They stood for some time, and seemed to gather comfort from the touch of each other's hands.
"I am ready now," said Venning.
"That's good. Keep your eyes raised and your shoulder to the wall.
Forward!"
They crept rather than walked round that fearful gallery, traversing the unknown height with the roar of waters coming up from the unseen depth, and the silent wraiths of vapour making the darkness visible as they curled upwards to disappear into the vast vault.
"If I can only get safe out of this," thought Venning at each step,
"I will never try to leave the valley again by this way."
The valley was only a few hundred yards away, but it seemed to him that he must have left it ages ago. Every second had been charged with a new sensation since he left the brightness outside, and each slow, wary, suspicious movement he made had in it a whole sequence of fears. Would he slip? "Would his foot fall on firm rock? Would something—he knew not what—grab him from out that awful pit? Would some one or something—he was sure there was something creeping behind—would it spring on him? Would that woman's hand suddenly shoot out from some crevice and hurl the both of them headlong? Was it never coming to an end? And the rock was shaking worse than ever! It would be easier to crawl! Of course it would. He went down on his hands and knees and laughed, because it was so easy. There was something on his back, something that jogged about and hit him on the side of the head, that gripped him round the chest! What was it? He felt gingerly, and laughed again. His carbine! What was the use of a carbine there? No good, of course. What a joke to throw it down and hear the splash, or, better, to fire it off and hear the echoes!
"Venning!"
The boy chuckled as he sat on the ledge tugging at the buckle.
"Why, lad!"
The great hands closed on the boy, lifted him up, and bore him lightly as the man felt his way with his feet. He counted his steps, assuring himself that before he came to seventy-five they would be at the end.
"Ngonyama!" cried a voice, quite close.
"We are coming, mother."
"Ngonyama! Ngonyama! Ngonyama!" and the voice grew fainter.
"Wait—wait, O mother of chiefs, for the way is dark, and we move slow."
"Slower fast, slower fast, Ngonyama, it matters not."
"It is far, mother! Are we near the end?"
"Near the end—very near! Is it the dead ye carry, Ngonyama?"
"Nay, mother; the boy is but sick. But where are you, that ye see and are not seen, that your voice is near and yet far?"
The woman laughed. "So ye grow afraid, O great one? Said I not,
Indhlovu, that this was not your path? Death is around."
Mr. Hume went forward steadily, counting his paces to keep his mind from wandering, and to his great joy he came suddenly on an opening in the wall which led towards welcome light, away from the horrors of that unfathomable pit. The woman waited for him there, looking very tall against the light.
"The boy is sick, mother—a little water."
"It is water now. Outside it was the honey he asked for. Set him down, Ngonyama—the child is weakly; set him down, and see to yourself."
"What words we these, woman?"
"Woman, yes; but master here, Ngonyama; and my words are easy to understand. Let the child be, and I will bring you out of this."
"Bring me water," he said sternly.
"There is plenty beyond. Carry him to the water if ye will, but the water will have you both." She laughed shrilly.
Mr. Hume went on towards the light, and found himself in another cavern reaching far up to a roof, from which hung long stalactites glistening white. There was light enough reflected from these hanging pillars to see, and he looked anxiously into Venning's face. The boy's eyes were closed.
"Water," he said.
"Ohe! there is water beyond;" and she pointed ahead.
Again he went on without a thought about the marvels that disclosed themselves in the cave in the shapes of crystals and cones of sulphuric origin; but, as he advanced, he was aware of strange, intermittent sounds resembling explosions. Pushing on, he saw the white spray of falling water, then the gleam of wet rock, and stopped at the edge of a cataract, milk white from the churned foam. He soaked a handkerchief in the water and bathed the boy's face.
The woman was at his side. "Leave him; he belongs to the water.
Leave him and follow, lest ye also go down."
"He Is only weak, mother. In a little time he will be ready to follow."
He applied himself to the task of bringing the boy round, and when he looked up again the woman had gone. Then for the first time he glanced around him, and saw that he stood in a small cave opening into a noble vault, lit up from top to bottom by a broad fan of light that streamed through a fissure in the roof. Opposite to where he stood, and a little above, the river emerged from its subterranean passage in a long green slide, to break into white where it fell upon the rocks before its headlong rush at his feet. In the rock above the point where the river emerged there were several round holes, and at intervals of a few seconds, columns of water spurted through these with loud reports. They shot far out, then broke into fine spray, on which the light produced wonderful colour effects. He could scarcely take his eyes off these blow- holes, so strange, so fascinating was the sight, and it was only the faint sound of a sigh that called his attention to his patient.
CHAPTER XXI
A VOICE FROM THE DEAD
Compton had found his father's book. When the woman gave it to him he sat down for an hour turning over the leaves, closely filled with neatly written handwriting interspersed with many sketches. To him it was a message from the dead—a priceless treasure; and as he read and saw how valuable it was as a record of close and intelligent observation in a new field, he was seized with an eagerness to be off with it out of the wilderness. He hurried to the cave, but, of course, there was no one there. Then, still carrying the priceless book, he ran on to the gorge, where the warriors whose task it was to guard that part were gathering. Some of them were examining the broken lengths of cotton, and drew his attention to them.
"It is medicine," he said briefly. "Have ye seen Ngonyama?"
They had not seen him since in the early morning one had noticed the great chief and the Spider enter the gorge.
"And it is not meet," they added, "that we should seek to find out where the chiefs had gone, since the place below was taboo."
"It is well," said Compton; and he returned to the cave to wait with as much patience as he could summon, under the impression that his friends had, of course, gone down to the pool in search of the missing boat.
The afternoon, however, passed quickly, for he was poring over the Journal, and it was almost dark when a step without attracted his attention.
"I say," he shouted, "come and see."
But it was not Venning who entered, but the chiefs mother. She looked tired, and her short skirt was stained with mud and moss.
"Halloa, it's you, is it?"
She squatted before the fire with her eyes on the book. "Ye will make medicine now, son of the wise man. Ye will teach our men how to build swift boats, and how to make the 'fire that kills."
"You are wet; you have been in the water."
"Oh! it is a little thing."
"I thought you were the great one, or the Spider. I have not seen them since the morning."
"Maybe they have gone a journey. What says the medicine?"
"It says that until they return safe as when they went, it will not speak," said Compton, with a chill suspicion growing in his mind.
She laughed. "Look again, son of my friend. Maybe they will not return except the things be done that must be done."
"What things?"
"I have said. The things that will make our people strong for the going out—the swift canoes and the shooting fire. That is my word."
"And this is my word. If any injury befall them, the medicine that is here"—and he tapped the book—"will work against yon and yours."
He looked at her very sternly, attempting to carry the matter with a high hand, for he judged from her words that something had happened to his friends.
"Wow! Are my people so few that a boy can talk to me in this way?"
She snapped her fingers.
"And what stand would you and your people have made against the wild men but for Ngonyama? What will they do when Hassan comes again, if the great one is not at hand to help?"
"Ohe! Little chief," she laughed, "you cannot frighten me with tales of Hassan; and think well over my word."
She went away down towards the new village that had been built beyond the river, and her voice rose in a chant as she went—a chant that was taken up and thrown back by the women returning home from the gardens. Compton built up the fire, and then walked up to the mouth of the gorge, restless and consumed with anxiety. Those words of the woman, "maybe they will not return," haunted him. They seemed to him ominous of danger. All night he patrolled up and down the ledge, between the cave and the gorge, fearing they would not come, and yet expecting to hear their voices at any moment; and in the morning he was heavy-eyed from want of sleep. The night-guards from the gorge trotted by, their places having been relieved.
"Have ye seen Ngonyama and the Spider?"
"There is smoke," they said. "Maybe the white chiefs make the fire."
"Where?"
"Beyond the water that is taboo."
He hurried off with his glasses, and from the gorge saw smoke rising far down the forest; and the sight gave him hope, for it might mean that his friends had followed the river down from Deadman's Pool on the trail of the missing boat. Bidding the men keep a good watch, and report any new development to him at once, he went back to the eave to breakfast and to renewed study of the journal. As he read, his attention became riveted on a series of sketches which laid bare the subterranean passages under the south-west portion of the cliff, between the gorge and the canon giving outlet to the river. As he read, too absorbed to think of anything else, he came upon the following note:—
"If it chance that understanding eye should fall on these notes, let my directions be carefully observed. No stranger—certainly no white man—would be permitted to leave the valley once he discovered its existence, by setting foot within its encircling cliffs. Let him not try to escape by the gorge on the south, for though apparently undefended, it is really guarded by a band of women who have the right to kill any person—not taboo—who passes through. These women, victims of a dark and degrading superstition, are recruited from the village, and once they quit the valley they are never seen, for they live about the shores of the pool beneath the cliff and in caverns adjoining, which form the lower or basement rooms of a series of stupendous vaults produced by volcanic agency. By night they prowl about the slopes above the pool; by day, some of them keep watch over the passage through the gorge and through the canon from loopholes to which they have access from the lower vaults. I know, because I myself tried to escape by this passage, and only escaped owing to the vigilance of the chief woman in the valley, who exercises control over the band, and who had her own purpose to achieve in saving my life. I was useful to her. When ultimately, after much labour, I discovered the only safe way out, I was, owing to repeated attacks of fever, too weak to avail myself of the discovery. My hope is that my efforts may be of service to some one —if, unhappily, any should follow in my footsteps—who would be better prepared to face the dangers and the difficulties of the forest beyond. Listen, then, to these instructions; On the ledge skirting the south cliff, and leading up to the gorge, there is a cave, which may be recognized from the existence near it of a bath hewn out of the lava by human hands. That cave is the key to the underground passage."
Compton looked up with shilling eyes. "The very place I am in," he muttered.
"For many months it was my home—if I may so misuse a word so charged with bitterness to me. Not a day passed but my thoughts went in sickness of spirit to my home, to my wife and little one; and it was when I was thinking of them that I thought I heard them calling my name from the cave. A sick man's fancy! But there had been a sound, and on entering to the far end of the cavern, I heard it repeated—a faint droning, such as would be produced by a shell held to the ear. There was, too, a current of air, and, feeling in the darkness, I found the crack through which it emerged. With a spear- head I easily broke the rock away, for it was a mere envelope. Thrusting the spear in, I felt there was an opening beyond. When I had satisfied myself that the passage extended for some distance, my first precaution was to find a slab of rock to fit the opening I had made."
Compton laid down the book, looked out to see that no one was near, and crept to the far end of the cave. Pressing with his hand, he soon found the rock yield. Satisfied, he returned to the journal with renewed eagerness.
"My first careful examination of the passage disclosed the welcome fact that it extended a great distance in a westerly direction, but without lights I saw it would be dangerous to attempt a thorough investigation. Accordingly, I occupied myself for several days in making a supply of candles, using the barrels of my gun as a mould, and mixing beeswax with oil clarified from the fat of animals, such as monkeys and coneys. Provided with two such candles, I began my explorations underground, and after many failures discovered a way of escape, which others may benefit by. The passage, in an uninterrupted course, dips under the gorge and enters the south-west cliff, which is completely honeycombed. After dipping under the gorge, it branches in several directions, but care must be taken to follow the extreme right-hand passage. This follows the outer shell, skirts what I have called the Hall of Winds, dips down through a long tunnel, and emerges on the outer slope at a point near the spot where the river disappears. The passage is safe, but can only be taken provided a candle or torch is used. If these directions should come under the notice of some unhappy traveller, let him accept my earnest wishes for success in his efforts to escape from a place which to me was first a haven of rest and then a hateful prison, and there is a feeling I have that I have not written this in vain."
The son of the lonely Englishman who had written the foregoing in sadness of spirit, but in hope for others, sat long staring before him with a lump in his throat.
"Not in vain, my father—not in vain did you labour," he murmured. Again he read over the directions, then very carefully he packed the journal and strapped it on his back, to be with him wherever he went. Noticing how the time had passed while he had been receiving the message from the dead, he hurried to the gorge to see if there were any signs of his friends, and his eyes went to the dark walls, and to the silent pool far below, with a feeling of intense repugnance at the thought of the ghoulish women who lurked unseen, but seeing all.
"Have you seen Ngonyama?"
"The smoke ascends no longer, Inkose; but we have seen the signal answered."
"How so?"
"Another smoke arose yet further off, and yet another, and beyond that another, till the word of the fire-makers was passed back even to the wide waters."
"Then it was not Ngonyama who made the fire."
"It was made by the enemy, Inkose."
"Have you sent out spies?"
"Of what use, lion's cub? Muata, the black one, hangs on their trail, and when the time has come he will spring. Wow! They are fools to come up by that path."
He went back deep in thought, and made up his mind to see the wise woman again. So he passed down into the valley, crossed the river to the new village built on a small flat-topped hill, and found the chief's mother sitting before his hut.
"I want my brothers," he said at once.
"The valley is open—search for them. You are a chief; put the men to the search. Why come to me?"
"Because you only know."
"Haw! If they are not in the valley they are out of the valley, and once they are out they have broken the law. Who am I that you should ask, since the law is made by the men?"
"Maybe, mother, they are not in the valley or out of the valley."
She threw a startled look at Compton, which he was keen to notice; then, with an expression of puzzlement, she nodded her head.
"Your meaning is dark, lion's cub. See, the valley is kraaled in like the goat-pen, and if the goats be not in the kraal they are outside the kraal. As for Ngonyama, see where the women build his hut against his coming."
"I see," said Compton. "Perhaps he was sent for by the chief, and has gone a journey, for the enemy are on the move."
"That is plainer to me," she said quickly. "It must be so, for the chief loves Ngonyama."
"Yes; that must be the reason. It lifts a load off my mind, mother."
"Ow aye I did not like to see your face clouded; and now you will make medicine for me?"
"I will; bat there are a few things I require. I am young at this work, mother, and cannot do without all the aids."
"Oh ay, I know," and she nodded her head with a fierce look in her eyes. "The blood of a man, the heart of a kid, and the tongue of a crocodile."
"No, no; a calabash of fat and a little wax. Only that."
"Your medicine is not like mine," she said musingly; "but I have it in my mind now that the good white man used much fat in his medicine."
She went into her hut, and returned presently with a calabash filled with fat and a square of wax.
"And ye will build fast canoes?"
"We will do great things, mother," said Compton, taking the things. "But it is not well that people should pry in upon one who is making medicine. He must have quiet."
"Wow! No one shall pass your house in the rocks, O wizard of mine."
He hurried up to the cave, passing the reed patch on his way to cut several stout stems, and began without delay his preparations for making candles. While the fat and wax were melting in a couple of "billies," he cut down the canes into sections of about six inches each, and buried them on end with the mouth up in soft ground near the bath, with a length of stout cord strung down the centre of each tube, and secured by a cross-piece. When the stuff had melted, he filled up the moulds, twelve in all, and left them to cool off. Then taking a stout cane left over, he cut away one of the joints, leaving a socket, thus converting it into a very handy candle-stick. Next he made up a parcel of food and medicine, carefully oiled his rifle, to protect it against the damp underground, and then went off up to the gorge to have a last look for his friends.
The warriors were buzzing about the barricade, evidently in a state of great excitement, and Compton saw the cause of this in the person of a solitary man ascending the slope from the direction of the pool.
"It is the chief's runner," said the men as the man came plainly into view.
Up he came, breasting the steep ascent with a look behind at frequent intervals as if he feared pursuit, and when he reached the wall, he drew a great breath of relief.
"Mawoh!" he grunted. "I saw the dead water heave, and there was a laugh from nowhere."
"What message?" asked one of the headmen.
"It is for Ngonyama," said the runner.
The headman fell back and looked at Compton, who then stepped forward.
"Give the message to me."
"Wow! This, then, is the chief's word. 'Say to Ngonyama, the great white one, that the enemy will come against the valley up from the dead water. Ngonyama will let them advance until they are in the jaws of the rocks. Then will Muata, the black one, fall on the rear and eat them up.' So said the chief."
Compton tamed to the headmen. "Where are the white chiefs?"
"We do not know, Inkose," they said uneasily.
"Ye will take the orders of your chief yourselves then, for unless my brothers are restored in safety, I will not help you."
"Maybe," said a man in a whisper, "the wizards have taken them to themselves to learn wisdom."
"Who are these wizards?" demanded Compton, sternly.
"Haw! Inkose, how shall we know?" But their eyes went fearfully to the silent walls of the gorge.
"Who does know?"
"We know not, Inkose. These things are not for us."
"I know;" and Compton eyed them sternly. "It is a woman who is chief in this place. Say to her the words of the chief, and bring me her reply."
They hesitated, muttering.
"Ye know the black one," said Dick, quietly. "He has asked for Ngonyama. Let the woman produce Ngonyama or give her authority, lest the black one turn his anger on you."
"The lion's cub says well," answered an old man. "I will go."
As he went off, Compton bade the indunas see to the defence, "For," said he, "without the white men, you will have to fight hard for your kraal." The indunas laughed as they gave their orders, saying that all they wished for was a good fight. Compton retired to his cave, and it was not long before the chiefs mother herself came up with her bodyguard of women, armed with bow and arrows.
"Ye sent for me, O great chief?" she cried, with a little mocking laugh.
"You have heard the chiefs message?"
"And this is my answer," she replied, pointing to the women. "We will meet the enemy."
"And Ngonyama?"
"Ngonyama! I have heard that name too often. See, young one, there is not room in a kraal for two strong bulls."
She nodded her head with a very hard look in her eyes.
Compton kept down his rising wrath at this ominous speech.
"Very well, mother," he said quietly. "You know best. I will now get about my work, if ye order that I am left in silence."
"I will see to that," she answered; "and see to it that you do all I have asked, lest you also go to those wizards you spoke of to the men."
She looked at him meaningly, and went on with her escort.
Compton watched them out of sight, then ran to his moulds. Taking out the canes, he split them down in turn, disclosing a dozen candles, roughly moulded, and very greasy, but he hoped suitable for his venture. One he fixed in the socket of the torch, the others he packed away carefully in an oilskin bag. Then slinging on his carbine, bandolier, haversack, and making them all secure by strapping a belt over all, he crept through the opening at the far end of the cave, replaced the rock, and lit his candle. After much spluttering and a great deal of smoke, the flame caught, and he started on his tour, breathing a fervent hope that it would lead him to his lost friends.
CHAPTER XXII
A TERRIBLE NIGHT
We will return now to Mr. Hume, who was left supporting the unconscious form of Venning on the brink of the rushing river, with the vast vault above him, and the roar of sharp explosions bellowing at intervals through the hollows. As he stooped over his young companion, he caught a fluttering of the eyelids, and placing the boy on the ground with a pillow made by his rolled-up coat, he unfastened the little medicine-bag which each always carried, and gave him a strong restorative. Then he chafed the cold hands, took off the wet shoes, and did the same to the feet, which were like marble. As the blood circulated under the friction, Venning regained his colour, and suddenly looked about him.
"I'm here, lad," said Mr. Home, cheerily. "You grew a little dizzy, but you're all right."
"What's that noise?" asked the boy, breathlessly. Mr. Hume picked him up, and carried him to the door of the vault.
"Magnificent, isn't it? Aren't you glad we came? One of the wonders of the world; and you've got the crow over Dick this time."
Venning sighed. "It's rather awful," he muttered. "It's grand, lad, grand! See how the water juts out like a column of steam with the roar of a big gun, and how the light falls upon it in a thousand hues, as the fine spray falls."
Venning's eyes opened wide as they looked up. "Like golden rain at a display of fireworks."
"The very thing, lad," answered the hunter, enthusiastically.
Venning's eyes ranged slowly down to the well of green water arching out from the black wall, and then to the snow-white flood where the foam hissed in its giddy descent.
"Where is she?"
"She'll be back soon. But we cannot wait for her here—-there is too much moisture. We'll get back to a drier place."
Still carrying the boy, he made his way back to the great chamber, lit up mysteriously by those pale cones and glistening columns. Here he found a dry place in a comer, and after placing Venning on the ground, he struck a match.
"Here's a find," he said, pouncing on a piece of driftwood.
With his Ghoorka knife he soon split it up, and in a short time a fire was blazing, throwing a red reflection on the stalactites. It was an eerie place, echoing to the thunders of the explosions, with pitch-dark comers, and those ghost-like forms in the misty heights, but Mr. Hume would not allow his patient time to brood over the surroundings. He shaved off fragments of biltong for him to eat, talking cheerfully all the time, and at last had the satisfaction of seeing the overwrought nerves of the lad quieted in sleep. Then the anxiety that had filled him all the time appeared in the expression of his face, and he stepped away a few yards to send a call for the woman ringing up into the vault. The cry ran away mournfully in a series of diminishing echoes, but no answer came, and he looked to his weapons, built up the fire with other fragments of wood that had been evidently borne in at times of flood, and explored the cave. There was no sign of the woman anywhere, but he found three exits. Relinquishing any idea of following them until Venning was fit to walk, he returned to the fire, and sat down with his back to the rock waiting for the woman's return. If he felt doubt or fear, he fought against it, resolving that, come what would, his first care was to save his companion, but that there was cause for doubt he knew very well from the remarks and bearing of the woman. Probably, he thought, the secret of the underground was hers only, and she might well have a motive sufficiently strong to preserve that secret even at the sacrifice of their lives. Full of these thoughts, he began another examination of the cave, confining himself this time to a search of the floor. Going down on hands and knees, and carrying a lighted stick, he minutely inspected the thin layer of dust which had settled since the last flood-waters had rushed through. Traversing slowly the width of the cave, he found his own spoor and the spoor of the woman. Then working round with the object of finding which of the three openings she had taken on leaving, he came upon a calabash and a kaross made of goats'-skin. The calabash, from the smell, contained goats'-milk. Leaving the fire-stick to mark the spot to which he had carried his search, he went back to place the kaross over the sleeping boy. Then taking another stick from the fire, he took up the spooring from the place he had left off, and crawled inch by inch, till he came to the first exit. Here he saw his spoor entering together with the footprints of the woman, both very plain from the mud which had adhered to their feet. The woman, however, had not passed out. That, at any rate, was one point settled, and he went on with a feeling of distinct relief at the thought that there might be another way out than by the fearful track they had followed on entering. On nearing the second exit he paused, startled by what seemed to him the sound of shrill voices borne suddenly in a pause between the bellowing of the water-jets in the neighbouring vault. When he listened he could, however, distinguish no sound in the mutterings and the boomings that was human, and repressing a desire to cry out, he groped along up to the second exit. Here, however, there were no footprints. The surface was smooth rock, and he was passing on when something about the rock attracted his attention again. Leaving one of the sticks again to guide him on his return by its glowing end, he returned to the fire, rebuilt it, waited till it was fairly blazing, then with another glaring torch he ran to continue his search. He found what he had half expected, that the rock had been polished by the passage of many feet, which had worn out quite a marked depression. He also satisfied himself that the woman had not passed out there, for as her feet had been wet she must have left some trace on the smooth surface. There remained now the third and last exit, and as he edged away to the left, he saw that the beaten track also led in the same direction. He rose and walked, feeling for the opening with his right hand, and, coming to it, he was glad, but not surprised, to make two discoveries, first, that the well-marked path entered the opening, and second, that the woman had also passed that way. There was the spoor of one foot clearly outlined in particles of moist dust.
"That's good," he muttered, standing up. "But I don't like the look of that path. Means people. But what sort of people? And the kaross and the goats'-milk. People again. No good taking risks."
He went back to the fire, drew the sticks away, thrust the burning ends into crevices, and left the comer in darkness once more. Then he sat down by Venning with his rifle across his knees and waited. He had no thought of moving a foot from the cave until Venning was fit to move; he would let him have his sleep out, and if he was no better, well, then, he would carry him. So he sat waiting and watching, listening to the hoarse rumblings which all the time ascended from below, and to the tremendous reports, a little dulled by the intervening wall, made by the spurting water. He watched the coming of the night, marked the gradual fading of the sheen on the stalactites, until softly the shadows sank and merged into the darkness of the cave, leaving nothing visible but a faint gleam where the nearest sulphur cone stood.
Eerie it was in the dim light, eerier it was now in the dark, with those hoarse mutterings from beneath, and those thunderous reverberations pealing at irregular intervals through the unknown spaces above. He had his pipe, but his habitual caution deterred him from seeking its comfort, and he was glad he had abstained, and glad at having extinguished the fire, when suddenly he heard the sound of shrill laughter. A sullen roar from the water-hole beyond drowned the sound, but he knew in every fibre that he had not been mistaken. There were others beside him and Venning in the vaults, but not for a moment was he pleased at the thought. Instinct or the association of the place warned them of danger. For a long spell, however, he could distinguish nothing human in the hurly-burly of sounds, and then again, nearer and plainer, the shrill peal rang out exultant, with a note in it of some savage beast flinging back the news to the pack that the scent was hot.
Slowly he stooped his head to hear if Venning slept, for he dreaded what would happen if the boy awoke in the pitchy darkness and heard that demoniac cry. The boy's breathing came at regular intervals, and with a muttered prayer that he would sleep on, the Hunter felt for the trigger.
"Ngonyama!" From the height a voice calling to him dropped soft as the flight of a bat, faint as a whisper, yet clear as a bell in all that turmoil.
He smiled grimly, but did not answer. This was some trick of the woman. If she was friendly, why had she left them?
"Indhlovu! "—again it fell as from afar.
He ran his hand over the bandolier, loosened the cartridges, and let his fingers curl round the trigger again.
A gust of wind blowing through some fissure shrieked amid the heights as if terrified at having wandered into such a prison, then for a long time the old sounds continued to make sport in the vaults and tunnels without any interruption.
Then Venning suddenly woke, and Mr. Hume was in a fever to keep the boy's mind occupied, and to get him asleep again.
"Drink this," he said, picking up the calabash, "and go to sleep again."
Venning took a long drink, "I dreamt I was by the sea, listening to the waves. It was almost as good as being home again."
"That's right. It's the sound of water. Go to sleep again and dream of old England, the best medicine you could have."
"I think I will," said Venning; and, with a sigh, he pulled the kaross over him, being too tired out to wonder how it came there.
"Sleep well, lad, sleep well;" and the big hand rested on the boy's shoulder to comfort him with its touch, but the man's face was turned with a straining expression towards the exit which he had last inspected, for it seemed to him that he had seen a streak of light, such as would be thrown in advance by a torch.
To his relief. Venning dropped off once more into a deep slumber, and he bent forward, alert in every fibre. He was not mistaken. There was a light over in the dark, not a light that sparkled, but a greenish glow, not unlike the eye of an animal as seen at night in the reflection of a bull's-eye lantern. It moved, too, like the eye of an animal, and presently other lights gathered around and at the back, giving off no radiance, not bright enough to throw up into relief the objects that produced them, but watchful, like the eyes of a pack of wild-dogs regarding their prey. The Hunter tried an experiment. Feeling for his great knife, he struck a stone, and watched to see if there was any movement of surprise which would indicate that there were living creatures aware of his presence. There was no such movement. Like bits of dull green glass with a light behind, these mysterious points remained as they had been, moving gently as if to the action of respiration. He raised his rifle, tempted to fire under the feeling of nervous suspense that tried his iron nerves, but lowered it at once, with a glance down at the dark form at his side. He would wait; and he sat watching the things, whatever they were, that seemed to be watching him with such cold and silent intentness. Then he made out that they were not animals. The eyes of animals blink, and these did not. Moreover, any animal, however fierce, would turn its eyes away at times; but these remained staring. What were they? He had seen fungus glow like that in the forest, but never so many together. And then he strained his ears to gather from any sound an inkling of their nature, but, beyond the bellowings and the sullen roar, he could hear nothing. How long could he stand the suspense? Already he felt a strong impulse to jump up, to shout, to break up that fixed regard, to come to the death-grapple, if need be, rather than sit there in doubt. The minutes slipped by slowly; each slowly spun its time out, as if every minute were an hour, each hour a week, and the moisture gathered on his brow, when at last the tension was broken.
"Sisters, I smell smoke!"
"Thank God," was the man's thought, "they are living." The suspense fell from him. He pulled himself together, and was ready for anything.
"Smoke!" The voice reached him in sharp shrill accents that pierced the continual growling of the waters. "Who is here?"
"Ngonyama!" was the reply uttered by several.
"He is terrible, sisters. Hear the thunder of his voice. Let us fly, lest he tear us." And the speaker laughed.
"That is not his voice! He is afraid; he crouches like the panther in the trap, trembling. His strength has gone from him."
"I heard a lion was in the plains, and the cows ran together in a cluster, for they were afraid."
A shrill laughter was the response, but the dull lights remained where they were, and again there was a long spell of silence, as far as the voices were concerned. Then the lights went out. The Hunter stooped forward, listening, but he could hear no footfall. He put the gun down, and grasped the knife in his right hand, for he could use it with better effect in a sudden assault.
"I smell meat!"
The voice came now from another quarter, and then the lights shone out one after another.
"What meat is this, sister?"
"Indhlovu."
"Wow! There are fat pickings on the bones of the great one; but he is powerful. I hear his trumpeting."
"Haw! it is the voice of the unseen, mother. Indhlovu has fallen into the pit that was set for him. His power has gone."
Again the voices ceased, again the strange lights were dimmed; but the Hunter was ready, for he knew now they were quartering the cave in search of him. He had no fear, only a feeling of intense disgust, coupled with a determination to scare the lives out of these ghouls, if they ventured on an attack. By-and-by he beard faint rustlings, and then breathings; but it was impossible to see, and he sat perfectly still. Then the voices broke out again at another point.
"He is here, my sisters."
"Wow! We are hungry; let us eat. We are thirsty; let us drink."
"Sisters, terrible is the power in the arm of Indhlovu. He strikes, and lo! as a falling tree sweeps a passage through the forest, so would he sweep us away. Let him weaken; let hunger fasten on his vitals, and fear trouble his brain."
"We are wolves; we would tear him down in his strength, while his blood is red."
"Terrible is the trunk of Indhlovu, and terrible is the arm of Ngonyama. In his hand is a broad knife, and with one stroke will he split a head. Let the darkness hold him."
"We hunger, and he will go. The wizard will claim him for his own; the dark waters will drag him down. Give him to us."
"He watches over his cub, and who so fierce as the lion who protects his young? The cub will sicken. The sound of the waters will trouble his brain; his spirit will fly before the terror of the darkness. Wait, my sisters, till his cub be dead."
"Demons!" cried the Hunter, his patience gone in a storm of fury. "Away!" He sprang forward with a roar, and his knife, whistling through the air, fell upon the gleaming cone, and struck from it sparks of fire.
With cries of fear the women—if women they were—fled, their lights showing again from the second exit, where was the beaten footway, and then out of the dark tunnel came a peal of fiendish laughter. Then silence, or, rather, a relief from the mocking voices; but there was a reminder of their presence in one of those pale greenish lights. He strode towards it, saw it had been dropped, picked it up, and found that it came from some substance held in a bag of open network. With a short laugh he saw it was fungus, a discovery that took all the mystery out of the recent performance, and since it appeared that the only thing formidable about his persecutors was their trickery in making the most of the terrors of the dark, he remade the fire, for there was no mistaking the chillness of the air. As he thought over the fantastic doings of the visitors, he laughed again, and presently feeling the warmth of the fire, he yawned and closed his eyes.
"Only a parcel of women," he muttered, and was asleep.
And as he slept, believing there was no danger, the shadows closed in as the fire dwindled—closed in, taking queer shapes. Across the smooth, gleaming surface of the cone these shadows came, like stooping forms, with long lean arms. There were whisperings, too, "clicks" made by the tongue, and Venning, opening his eyes, suddenly heard these sounds at once, notwithstanding the walls of the cavern trembled to the hollow thunder of the waters. His eyes fell upon something beyond-the fire. He did not move, or cry out, or wonder where he was; his mind was focussed like his wide-opened eyes on that object. It was like a face, and yet he could not make out whether it was the face of man, or bird, or beast, or reptile. One glance at the thing by any one else would have been more than enough, so terrible it was; but Venning's overpowering curiosity as a naturalist mercifully blotter-put the horror. He was trying to identify it, and made mental notes such as these:—
"Forehead low, receding; brows contracted; eyes small, deep-set, venomous; lower part of face banded black, and undecipherable; neck long, skinny, vulture-like; rest of body not visible."
"Snake, or wild-cat," he said.
"Eh?" said Mr. Hume, waking at once.
There was a ring of metal, a sudden babel of fierce cries, the flash of a rifle-shot, and the clap of the report, followed by shrieks.
"It's all right, lad," shouted Mr. Hume, as Venning straggled to rise; "keep down."
There was a sharp hissing. Something struck the rock above the Hunter as he was stooping over Venning, and fell down into the fire. It was a barbed arrow. He fired again, scattered the fire with a kick, and crouched over the boy. Several arrows rang viciously against the rock. He felt for Venning's carbine, swung it round with one hand, and emptied the magazine, firing at different points. With yells of disappointment, rage, and fear, the creatures of the night fled once more.
"Are you all right, my boy?"
"Yes; but what does it mean? What were they? I thought the thing was a snake."
"What did you see?"
"Something staring out of the shadows. I could not make out what it was, and as you awoke it seemed to jump forward and strike."
"Ay, the blow fell on my belt. Thank God, you warned me; but it was my fault. I should have kept awake. They're only women, lad. Don't let any fancies come into your head."
Venning sniffed. "Smell anything? Seems to me like sulphur."
"It's the gunpowder fumes, hanging low."
Venning sat up. "What is that booming noise?"
"The sound of falling water."
The boy was silent for some time, while the Hunter reloaded the carbine and his Express.
"So—-we are still down below."
"But I know the way out, and as soon as it is daylight we'll get back into the valley. Have no fears."
Venning's hand went out to feel for his companion. "I must have given you a lot of trouble. You've got your coat off."
"I didn't want it, and it came in handy as a pillow."
"Put it on," said Venning, "and give me my gun."
Mr. Hume laughed cheerily. "Feeling yourself again—eh? Well, that's good. And now we'll put an end to this nonsense."
"I certainly smell sulphur," said Venning; "and what is that blue streak there?" He took a step towards the smooth cone. "It is sulphur!" he cried. "See, it's burning."
Mr. Hume stepped to his side, and saw the unmistakable blue flame given off by burning sulphur, while a whiff of the fumes made him choke.
"You're right; it's a mass of sulphur. The burning wad front the cartridge must have set it alight." He sliced off the burning patch with his knife. "We don't want to be fumigated, or to die of suffocation. Now, if you feel strong enough, we'll explore the cave."
"Is it safe? I mean, are there any chasms?"
"Smooth as a floor. Keep close by me."
They examined the cavern carefully by means of the strange lantern filled with fungus, and Mr. Hume halted by the second exit.
"This is where they enter," he said, "and I think our best plan will be to build a fire in the mouth. We should then have the advantage over them, as we should see them once they came into the reflection."
They set about collecting wood, when Venning had a thought.
"Which way does the draught set in the tunnel—away from the cavern or into it?"
"Why?"
"Because, if the current of air blows away from us, we can easily keep them out."
"It blows from the cave into the tunnel. I found that out before."
"Then we have got them, whoever they are. Make the fire in the passage, pile up blocks of this sulphur on the inner side, and the wind will carry the fumes down into the tunnel."
"A splendid plan," said Mr. Hume; and very soon it was carded out, a couple of shots being fired into the dark passage as a warning to the enemy to keep off. As the flames caught the sulphur, a thick smoke rolled away. "That will stop them; and now we can wait in peace till the morning."
The rest of the night passed for them in peace as far as their assailants were concerned, but the chilling damp of the vaults got into their bones, and Venning was pinched and shivering when the first ray of sunshine struck slanting down through the mist-laden atmosphere, bringing with it a message of hope from the bright outer world.
CHAPTER XXIII
THROUGH THE VAULTS
They shared the goats'-milk remaining in the calabash, and at once entered the first exit, that was to lead them, as they ardently hoped, into the warmth and light of the day. Venning went first, carrying only the strange lantern, and Mr. Hume a foot behind, ready to support the boy with a helping hand if he were again overcome by dizziness. Their progress was slow, owing to the dark, but the going was easy enough with a gradual ascent. What pleased them very much was the dwindling of the hubbub made by the waters—a sign that they were going away from that source of danger. In silence and in darkness they kept on up to a point where the walls widened out, and where there was a familiar hut-like smell, necessitating a pause for investigation. Mr. Hume struck a match—for the fungus-lamp shed no ray—and holding it up, disclosed a slab of rock with a pile of white ash on it. Blowing upon this, he started a glow from the still live embers beneath, and placing on a few half-burnt sticks, soon made a fire. By its light they saw a couple of rush-mats, such as the natives make, on the floor, and these, added to the fire, made a blaze which lit up a cavern bearing evidence of frequent use; for there were other mats on a ledge, together with several calabashes, and an earthen pot of native make. Seeing where the passage continued, they hurried on, for these human belongings reminded them forcibly of the existence of beings they had no wish to meet in those dark passages.
"How do you account for people living down here?" asked Venning.
"They may be outcasts from the village, afflicted either by disease or madness, or they may be members of some dark superstition."
"Ugh! I wonder if the Inkosikasi has any connection with them?"
"I rather think so, and when we get out we will have a word with her."
"When we get out! But it will be fine to see old Dick again, and to see the birds and insects on the move in the sun. Halloa! the path turns again—bends to the left."
"Keep on slowly."
As they went the noise of waters again reached them, growing in volume; and when the path turned abruptly to the right, they looked out through a small opening on billows of mist that rolled upwards out of sight.
"Seem to have reached a spot above last night's resting-place."
The wall on their left was very thin, and shook to each report; but presently the passage made a bend to the right, which took them away once more from the mist-laden vault, and then, through a narrow doorway, opened into one of the best-lighted caverns they had yet entered. The light which streamed in from the wall beyond was very welcome to them, but the taste of earth in the air blowing through the crack was better. The first thing they did was to run across to the crack and look out.
"The river—and the valley!" cried Venning.
Below them was the green of the valley bathed in sunshine, the river glittering like silver, and the scene like a glimpse of Paradise after the gloom of their vast prison.
"There goes the eagle we saw when we first arrived, and right away yonder I can see a flock of goats among the rocks."
"Perhaps we could get through and climb down." Mr. Hume thrust an arm through, and spread his fingers to the wind. "We are on the south-west side of the cliff, nearly overlooking the entrance to the canon."
"It is very steep there. We should want a rope—and a long rope, too."
"Yes, I am afraid we must keep on; but, at any rate, it is a comfort to know where we are."
They stepped back and turned to examine the cavern. The floor was dry, the roof high, and it would have made a good room. And a room in occupation it was; for, now they took stock of it, there were signs of the occupants everywhere—a stack of wood in one corner, several karosses rolled up, sleeping-mats, cooking-pots, wooden spoons, a bundle of reeds for arrow-making, and a half-shaped bow, and other odds and ends. But what fixed their attention were a number of white objects on a ledge.
"Look like ostrich eggs," said Venning, reaching up "No, they're not. Skulls—Ethiopian."
"Pah! Drop it," said Mr. Hume.
"Why?" said Venning, who had no qualms in these matters. "You can see it is Ethiopian from the receding forehead, the high cheek- bones, the heavy under-jaw and strong teeth. No white man ever has teeth like that."
"Drop it," said Mr. Hume, sternly.
"But why?"
"Look at this." Mr. Hume pointed to a square block in the centre of, the room—a block all stained with dark streaks that came from a basin in the centre. Venning approached it. "Blood—perhaps a sacrificial stone."
"And this," said Mr. Hume, pointing to a bone projecting from one of the pots. "They are man-eaters."
Venning put down the skull and looked with a white face at his companion.
"Cannibals! That is why they tried to kill us last night."
The Hunter nodded his head. "I did not want to tell you, but I could not stand a lecture on skulls."
"Let us go."
"First let us take a couple of these mats. Cut up, they would serve as torches at a pinch." He tied one on Venning's back and one on his own. "Forward!"
When they wished to proceed, however, they could not find the continuation of the passage, and, to their dismay, it seemed as if they would have to retrace their steps in search for another way out, when behind a hanging mat in the left-hand corner they found a narrow opening. It was not inviting, but they were glad of any path that led away from that evil place, and away also from the lower depths. So, though the way became more and more difficult as they advanced, they continued to press on, now up, now down, at another place going on their hands and knees, and further on having to wriggle between cracks which sorely nipped the Hunter as he forced his heavy frame through. And in the end they came out on the verge of the vast vault, which appeared to fill so much of the space below; emerged on a wind-swept platform, with a sudden din after the quiet of the tortuous passage as of demons shrieking through the air.
Here Venning gave up. He had been now over twenty-four hours underground without one good meal, except the drain of goats'-milk, and after the shock of the previous afternoon, when he hung in mid- air, the disappointment at coming upon another forbidding pit was too much for him. He crouched back against the rock, and sat down.
Mr. Hume spread the mat under the boy, wrapped the kaross over him, and made him comfortable as could be, and then he looked anxiously about. Little comfort did he gain. They had evidently pursued a false trail, and the platform was the end, standing sheer on the edge of that very vaulted space, down which, far down, the jets of water shot out through the blow-holes. Their windings had brought them, after all, to an impasse, and the only retreat was through the chamber of the skulls, where perhaps the savage beings of the underground vault were already collected. Looking over and down, he could see the jets of water shooting out to fall in a mantle of spray, on which the arrow-like shafts of sunlight sparkled in iridescent hues, and through the spray he could see the white waters of the cataract. Above his head there was a jutting rock, which shut out the wall immediately above, but outside the rock he saw the roof of the vault, gaunt ribs of rock pierced at intervals by fissures, through which shone the blue of the sky. Turning to Venning, he saw that the boy's eyes were fixed on those openings with a longing in his look that wrung the man's heart.
Clearly there were only two courses open. They must either go back by the path they had entered by—making up their minds to cross that dizzy ledge in the darkness—or he would have to leave the boy somewhere while he went for help. He gave up the latter alternative at once, and set his mind on the first.
"We will rest for an hour," he said. "Then we will go down."
"To look for another way?" asked the boy, wearily.
"Or to follow the track we entered by."
"I couldn't," whispered the boy.
"Then we will try another passage—the one 'they' went down by. Of course"—and the Hunter's voice gained in cheeriness—"that is our plan, and if we hurry we shall be outside in no time."
"Very well," said the boy, jumping up with a sudden flush in his cheeks, showing a return of feverishness.
"Rest awhile, lad; it is morning yet. See how the sun's rays slant towards the west. At noon they will be vertical, and then we shall have the whole afternoon."
They sat down with their eyes turned up to the specks of blue, and watched the sun-shafts dip from the west towards the centre till they poured their white light straight down. Then they started for the long downward track, Mr. Hume this time leading the way with his rifle ready.
When they came again to the cavern of the skulls, the Hunter paused before pushing the mat aside. For some seconds he stood listening; then, cautious still, with the point of his knife he forced apart a couple of the rush strands and peeped through. The place seemed as it had been, and he was about to step in when he remembered that Venning had placed the skull on the block of stone. There was the block, but there was no skull upon it. Standing back, he whispered to Venning to keep where he was; then, with his rifle ready, he quietly moved the mat aside.
There was a howl, as some creature, squatting on the floor, turned a lined and hideous face towards the corner, and then scuttled out of view. Mr. Hume leapt to the floor, and ran to seize the creature who had taken refuge under a hanging mat. His hand, however, met with no resistance, and, brushing the mat aside, he saw an opening leading down.
"It went down there," he said, as Venning, showing a startled face at the opening, called out to know what had happened.
Venning jumped down, and looked into the new outlet. "Let us follow," he said eagerly.
Mr. Hume shook his head. "We know one has gone. There are probably others; and we don't know that it would lead us out. The other way would."
"It makes me ill to think of the other way," said Venning, vehemently.
"It looks like a rabbit-hole."
"I'll go first."
"It may mean another night, if it takes up much time."
"I'm sure it's right," persisted the boy.
"Very well, here goes;" and the Hunter submitted against his judgment, because he feared beyond anything the breakdown of the boy's nerves.
He was obliged to slide down this black opening, and when he found a footing in a dark, cellar-like place, he at once struck a match under the belief that he stood in a mere pit and nothing else, but a puff of wind blew the match out.
"Come along; there is an opening."
The opening they found, and, as they entered it, they heard a shuffling noise behind.
"It's that hag gone up into the room," cried the Hunter, "and she'll give the alarm. We must go after her."
Venning, however, pushed on. "This is the way," he said wildly; and
Mr. Hume could do no less than follow, frowning as he went.
But it did seem that the boy was right. The little black hole of a passage suddenly opened out into light that almost blinded them by its brilliancy. It was a broad track. On the right was the wall of the cliff pierced with little holes, through which they looked down again on the canon itself, the opposite walls seeming very near.
"Wasn't I right?" asked Venning, with an excited laugh. "We can't be very far above. I fancy I can hear the river."
"Well, there is this about it, if the worst comes, and we can't find a way out, we can signal from one of these holes to people in the valley."