CHAPTER XXV. WITHIN THE EARTH
It was like a terrible dream, and, for an instant or more, during which Fred Munson was descending through the gloom and darkness, he believed it was such indeed; but he was quickly recalled from his error by his arrival at the end of his journey. The truth was that the boy, in crawling beneath the clump of bushes for shelter, would have crawled head first into the mouth of the cave, but for the fact that the ground immediately surrounding the opening gave way beneath his weight before he reached it.
His fall was not very far, and when he struck the ground, it was so soft and yielding that he was scarcely conscious of a jar; but the nervous shock was so great that, for a few minutes, he believed that he was fatally injured.
When he was able to recall his scattered senses, he looked around him in the hope of gaining some idea of where he was; but he quickly saw that he was in a place where his eyes were of no service. The darkness was as impenetrable as that which plagued Pharoah and his Egyptians. Only when he looked upward was the blackness of darkness relieved. Enough straggling rays worked their way through the bushes to give the opening a dim, misty appearance, such as is sometimes observed when that orb is rising in a cloud of fog and vapor; but in every other direction he might as well have been blind, for all the good his eyes did him.
One of the first things that struck the lad was the sound of the waterfall which he had heard so distinctly when stretched upon the earth. It was somewhere near him—so close, even, that he fancied he could feel the dampness from it, but the soft, rippling character showed that it did not amount to much. It was a mere cascade, the water of which entered and passed out the cavern by some means which the boy could only surmise.
How extensive was this cave?
Had it any outlet other than that by which Fred had entered? Was the flow even or irregular? Were there pitfalls and abysses about him, making it too perilous to attempt to grope about in the gloom?
Having entered, how was he to make his way out again?
Such questions as these presented themselves to the boy, as he stood alone in a world of night, and endeavored to consider the situation calmly. Stooping down, he felt of the soil. It was of a cold, sandy nature, and so yielding that, when he struck it, he went below his ankles.
He stood for some time, debating whether he should remain where he was until the coming of day, in the hope of gaining additional light, or whether he should venture upon a little cautious exploration. He finally decided upon the latter.
“When the elephant goes on a bridge, he feels of it with his trunk to see whether it is strong enough to bear him, and I'll use my gun to do the same thing.”
This was no more than a simple precaution, and doubtless saved his life. Grasping the stock firmly, he reached the muzzle forward, and “punched” the ground pretty thoroughly before venturing upon it, making sure that it was capable of bearing him safely forward into the darkness beyond.
Generally speaking, the ground of the cavern was tolerably even. There were little irregularities here and there, but none of them were of a nature to interfere with walking, provided one could have enough light to see where he was going.
“If I only had a lantern, I could get round this neighborhood a good deal faster than this,” he said. “It wouldn't be anything more than fun to explore this cave, which may be as big as the mammoth one of Kentucky.”
Up to this time Fred had been moving almost directly away from the cascade which he had noticed. The misty light over his head served somewhat as a guide, and he determined not to wander away from that, which would prevent his getting lost in the bowels of the earth. The boy was quite confident that there was some easy way of getting out of the cave; for if there was none, except by the opening above, then he was in a Bastile, most surely.
It was undoubtedly the cascade which added to this conviction, for it seemed to him more than likely that if the water entered and left the cave, the volume which did so must be of a varying quantity, so that at certain seasons it was capable of carrying a boy with it. This, of course, was extremely problematical, but it was hopeful enough to prevent anything like despair taking possession of the lad as he felt his way around the cavern.
“Every stream finds its way to the daylight after a time, and so must this, and why can't it take a fellow along with it? That's what I should like to know—-”
He paused, with a gasp of amazement, for at that moment the gun went out of his hand as suddenly as if some one in waiting had grasped the muzzle and jerked it away.
But there was no human agency in the matter. While punching the surface, he had approached a vast abyss, and the thrust over the edge was so unexpected that the impulse carried it out of his hand.
As the boy stood amazed and frightened, he heard the weapon going downward, Heaven could only tell where. First it struck one side, and then another, the sound growing fainter and fainter, until at last the strained and listening ear failed to hear it at all. The depth of the opening was therefore enormous, and Fred shuddered to think how nearly he had approached, and by what a hair's breadth he had escaped a terrible death.
At this juncture, the boy suddenly recalled that he had some friction matches in his possession. He was not in the habit of carrying them, but several days before he had carefully wrapped up a half-dozen, with the intention of kindling a fire in the wood near New Boston. From that time until the present he had failed to remember the circumstance, although he had so frequently felt the need of a light.
He found a half-dozen securely wrapped about with a piece of newspaper, and he carefully struck one.
The moment the point flickered into a flame he held it forward and looked downward.
There was the chasm, which came so nigh swallowing him, in the shape of a seam or rent some three or four feet in width. It had the appearance of having been caused by some convulsion of nature, and it extended at right angles to the course he was pursuing, beyond the limit of his vision. If necessary, it could be leaped over, but the explorer deemed it unwise to do so just then.
Now that he had the means at command, Fred decided to look after the cascade, the sound of which was a guide. His gun was irrevocably gone, and his progress, therefore, became the more tedious. Disliking to creep, he adopted the plan of advancing one step, and then groping around awhile with the other foot, before trusting his weight upon it. This consumed considerable time, but it was the only safe course, after what had taken place, and he kept it up until the musical murmur of the waterfall showed that he had approached about as close as possible.
He then struck another match and held it over his head. It told the whole story.
A stream, not more than three or four feet in width, issued from the darkness, and, flowing some distance, went over a ledge of rock. After falling three or four yards, upon some black and jagged rocks, it gathered itself together and resumed its journey into and through the gloom. The tiny flame was unequal to the task of showing where the water entered and left the cave, and, as the boy was straining his eyesight in the hope of discovering something more, the blaze scorched his fingers, he snapped it out.
“That leaves only four,” he mused, as he felt of the lucifers, “and I haven't got enough to spare. I can't gain much by using them that way, and so I guess I'll hold on to these, and see whether the daylight is going to help me.”
He picked his way carefully along until he was nearly beneath the opening which had admitted him, where he sat down upon the dry, sandy ground to await the light of the sun.
“I don't suppose it will help much, for the bushes up there will keep out pretty much of the sunlight that might have come through; but I guess I'll have plenty time to wait, and that's what I'll do.”
He fell into a sort of doze, lulled by the music of the cascade, which lasted until the night was over. As soon as he awoke, he looked upward to see how matters stood.
The additional light showed that the day had come, but it produced no perceptible effect upon the interior of the cave. All was as dark—that is, upon the bottom—as ever. It was only in the upper portion that there was a faint lighting-up.
Fred could see the jagged edges of the opening, with some of the bushes bent over, and seemingly ready to drop down, with the dirt and gravel clinging to their roots. The opening was irregular, and some four or five feet in extent, and, as near as he could estimate, was some thirty feet above his head.
“If I happened to come down on a rock, I might have got hurt; but things down here were fixed to catch me, and it begins to look as though they were fixed to hold me, too.”
His situation was certainly very serious. He had no gun or weapons of any kind other than a common jack-knife, and it looked very much as if there was no way for him to get out the cave again without outside assistance, of which the prospect was exceedingly remote.
He was hungry, and without the means of obtaining food.
The berries, which had acted so queerly with him the day before, were beyond his reach.
Vegetation needs the sunlight, as do all of us, and it is useless to expect anything edible below.
“Unless it's fish,” thought Fred, aloud. “I've heard that they find them in the Mammoth Cave without eyes, and there may be some of the same kind here; but then I'm just the same as a boy without eyes, and how am I going to find them?”
The more he reflected upon his situation, the more disheartened did he become. He had been given many remarkable deliverances in the past few days, and although his faith was strong that Providence would bring him out of this last predicament, his heart misgave him as he considered it in all its bearings.
“The best thing I can do is to try and gather some wood together, and start a fire. If there is enough fuel, I may kindle a lantern that will show me something in the way of a new door—Halloa! what is the matter?”
His attention was attracted by the rattling of gravel and dirt at his side, and looking up, he saw that something was struggling in the opening above, having been caught apparently in precisely the same manner as he had been.
His first supposition was that it was a wild animal, but the next moment he observed that it was a person, most probably an Apache warrior. And by the time Fred had learned that much, down came his visitor.
CHAPTER XXVI. A WELCOME VISITOR
Lonely as Fred Munson felt in that dismal cavern, he preferred the solitude to the companionship of an Apache Indian, and, fearful of discovery, he crouched down to wait until he should move away. His involuntary visitor dropped within a few feet of where he was hiding, and Fred tried to hold his breath for fear he might be detected; but the fellow quietly rose and gave expression to his sentiments.
“Begorrah, if I haven't fell through into the cellar, as me grandmither did when she danced down the whole party, and landed on the bottom, and kept up the jig without a break, keep ing time with the one-eyed fiddler above.”
Fred could scarcely believe the evidence of his own senses. That was the voice of his old friend, Mickey O'Rooney, or else he was more mistaken than he had ever been in his life. But whatever doubts might have lingered with him were removed by the words that immediately followed.
“It beats the blazes where that young spalpeen can be kaping himself. Me and Misther Simpson have been on the hunt for two days and more, and now when I got on his trail, and found where he'd crawled into the bushes, and I tried to do the same, I crawled into the biggest cellar in the whole world, and I can't find the stairs to walk out again—-”
“Helloa, Mickey! Is that you, my old friend?” called out the overjoyed lad, springing forward, throwing his arms about him, and breaking in most effectually upon his meditations.
The Irishman was mystified for a moment, but he recognized the voice, reached down, and placed his arms in turn about the lad.
“Begorrah, if this ain't the greatest surprise of me life, as Mr. O'Spangarkoghomagh remarked when I called and paid him a little balance that I owed him. I've had a hard hunt for you, and had about guv you up when I came down on you in this shtyle. Freddy, me boy, I crave the privilege of axing ye a question.”
“Ask me a thousand, if you want,” replied the boy, dancing about with delight.
“Are ye sure that it's yoursilf and nobody else? I don't want to make a mistake that'll cause me mortification, and ye must answer carefully.''
“I'm sure it is I, Fred Munson.”
“Whoop! hurrah!” shouted Mickey, leaping several feet in the air, and, as he came down, striking at once into the Tipperary jig.
The overjoyed fellow kept it up for several minutes, making the cold, moist sand fly in every direction. He terminated the performance by a higher leap than ever, and a regular Comanche war-whoop. Having vented his overflowing spirits in this fashion, the Irishman was ready to come down to something like more sober common sense. Reaching out, he took the hand of Fred, saying as he did so:
“Let me kaap hold of your flipper, so that I can prevint your drifting away. Now tell me, my laddy, how did you get here?”
“I come down the same way that you did.”
“Through the skylight up there? It's a handy way of going down-stairs, the only trouble being that it's sometimes inconvanient to stop so suddint like. Did n't you obsarve the opening till you stepped into it?”
“I didn't see it then. I was near it, asleep, and when I woke up in the night I crawled in under the bushes to shelter myself, when I went through into the cave. How was it you followed?”
“I was sarching for ye, as I've been doing for the last two days and more. I obsarved the hole, for I had the daylight to help me, and I crawled up to take a paap down to see who lived there, when I must have gone too fur, as me uncle obsarved after he had been hung in a joke, and the ground crumbled beneath me, and I slid in. But let me ax you again, are ye much acquainted in these parts? You know I'm a stranger.”
“I never was here before. I've looked around all I can, but haven't been able to find how big the cave is. There's a small waterfall, and the stream comes in and goes out somewhere, and there is one rent, at least, so deep that I don't believe it has any bottom. I've learned that much, and that's all.”
“That's considerable for a laddy like you. Are you hungry?”
“You'd better believe I am.”
“Why had I better belave it?” asked Mickey, with an assumption of gravity that it was impossible for him to feel. “If ye give me your word of honor, I'll belave you, because I've been hungry myself, and know how it goes. I have some lunch wid me, and if ye don't faal above ating with common folks, we'll sup together.”
“I am so glad,” responded Fred, who was indeed in need of something substantial. “I feel weak and hollow.”
“Ye shall have your fill; take the word of an Irishman for that. Would you like to smoke?”
“You know I never smoke, Mickey.”
“I did n't ax ye that question, but if ye doesn't feel inclined to do the same, I'll indulge myself a little.”
The speaker had been preparing his pipe and tobacco while they were talking, and, as he uttered the last words, he twitched the match against the bowl, and immediately began drawing at it.
As the volumes of smoke issuing from his mouth showed that the flame had done its duty, he held the match aloft, and looked down in the smiling, upturned face of the lad, scrutinizing the handsome countenance, as long as the tiny bit of pine held out.
“Yes, it's your own lovely self, as Barney McDougan's wife obsarved, when he came home drunk, with one eye punched out and his head cracked. Do ye know that while I was surveying your swate face I saw something behind ye?”
“No. What was it?” demanded Fred, with a start and shudder, looking back in the darkness.
“Oh! it was nothing that will harm ye: I think there be some bits of wood there that kin be availed of in the way of kindling a fire, and that's what I misses more than anything else, as me mither used to say when she couldn't find the whisky-bottle. Bestir yourself, me laddy, and assist me in getting together some scraps.”
The Irishman was not mistaken in his supposition. Groping around, they found quite a quantity of sticks and bits of wood. All of these were dry, and the best kind of kindling stuff that could be obtained. Mickey was never without his knife, and he whittled several of these until sure they would take the flame from a match when he made the essay.
The fire caught readily, and, carefully nursed, it spread until it roared and crackled like an old-fashioned camp-fire. As it rose higher and higher, and the heavy gloom was penetrated and lit up by the vivifying rays, Mickey and Fred used their eyes to the best of their ability.
The cave seemed to stretch away into fathomless darkness in every direction, excepting one, which was toward the waterfall or cascade. This appeared to be at one side, instead of running through the centre. The dark walls could be seen on the other side of the stream, and the gleam and glitter of the water, for some distance both above and below the plunge.
“Do you obsarve anything new?” asked Mickey.
“Nothing more than what I told you,” replied Fred, supposing he referred to the extent of the cavern.
“I have larned something,” said the man, significantly.
“What's that?”
“Somebody's been here ahead of us.”
“How do you know that?”
“I've got the proof. Will you note that, right there before your eyes?”
As he spoke, he pointed to the kindling-wood, or fuel, of which they had collected considerable, while there was plenty more visible around them. Fred was not sure that he understood him, so he still looked questioningly toward him.
“Wood doesn't grow in such places as this, no more than ye can find praties sprouting out of the side of a tea kettle; but then it might have been pitched down the hole above, or got drifted into it without anybody helping, if it wasn't for the fact that there's been a camp-fire here before.”
“How do you make that out, Mickey?”
The Irishman stooped down and picked up one of the pieces of wood, which was waiting to be thrown upon the camp fire. Holding it out, he showed that the end was charred.
“That isn't the only stick that's built after the same shtyle, showing that this isn't the first camp-fire that was got up in these parts. There's been gintlemen here before to-day, and they must have had some way of coming and going that we haven't diskivered as yet.”
There seemed nothing unlikely in this supposition of Mickey's, who picked up his rifle from where he had left it lying on the ground, and stared inquiringly around in the gloom.
“I wonder whether there be any wild animals prowling around?”
“I don't think that could be; for there couldn't many of them fall through that hole that let us in, and if they did, they would soon die.”
“That minds me that you hinted something about feeling the cravings of hunger, and I signified to you that I had something for ye about my clothes; and so I have, if it isn't lost.”
As he spoke, he drew from beneath his waistcoat a package, carefully wrapped about with an ordinary newspaper. Gently drawing the covering aside, he displayed a half-dozen pieces of deer-meat, cooked to a turn.
“Will ye take some?” he asked, handing one to Fred, who could scarcely conceal his craving eagerness, as he began masticating it.
“How comes it that you have that by you?”
“I ginerally goes prepared for the most desprit emargencies, as me mither used to remark when she stowed the whisky-bottle away wid the lunch she was takin' with her. It was about the middle of yisterday afternoon that I fetched down a deer that was browsing on the bank of a small stream that I raiched, and, as a matter of coorse, I made my dinner on him. I tried to lay in enough stock to last me for a week—that is, under my waistband—but I hadn't the room; so I sliced up several pieces, rather overcooked 'em, so as to make 'em handy to carry, and then wrapped 'em up in the paper.”
“It's a common-sense arrangement,” added Mickey. “I had the time and the chance to do it, and it was likely to happen that, when I wanted the next meal, I wouldn't have the same opportunity, remembering which I did as I said, and the result is, I've brought your dinner to you.”
CHAPTER XXVII. A SUBTERRANEAN CAMP-FIRE
There is no sauce like hunger, and after Fred Munson's experience of partial starvation, and nausea from the wild berries which he had eaten, the venison was as luscious as could be. It seemed to him that he had never tasted of anything he could compare to it.
“Fred, me laddy, tell me all that has happened to you since we met—not that, aither, but since Lone Wolf snapped you up on his mustang, and ran away wid you. I wasn't about the city when the Apaches made their call, being off on a hunt, as you will remember, so I didn't see all the sport, but I heard the same from Misther Simpson.”
Thus invited, the boy went over the narration, already known, giving the full particulars of his adventures, from the morning he opened his eyes and found himself in the camp of the Apaches in the mountains; to the hour when he slipped through from the upper earth into the cave below. Mickey listened with great interest, frequently interrupting and expressing his surprise and gratitude at the good fortune which seemed to succeed bad fortune in every case.
“You sometimes read of laddies like you gettin out of the claws of these spalpeens, but you don't often see it, though you've been lucky enough to get out.”
“Now, Mickey, tell me how it was that you came to get on my track.”
“Well, you see, I got back to New Bosting shortly after the rumpus. I would have been in time enough to have had a hand in the wind-up, if it hadn't been that I got into a little circus of my own. Me and a couple of Apaches tried the game of cracking each other's heads, that was spun out longer than we meant, and so, as I was obsarving, when I rode into town, the fun was all over. I found Misther Simpson just gettin' ready to take your trail, and he axed me to do the same, and I was mighty glad to do it. I was desirous of bringing along your horse Hurricane, for you to ride when we should get you, but Soot would n't hear of it. He said the horse would only be a bother, and if we should lay hands onto you, either of our horses was strong enough to take you, so we left the crature behind.”
“Did you have any trouble in following us?”
“Not at first; a hundred red spalpeens riding over the prairie can't any more hide their trail than an Irishman can save himself from cracking a head when he is invited to do so. We galloped along, without ever scarcely looking at the ground. You know I've larned something of the perarie business since we came West, and that was the kind of trail I could have follered wid both eyes shut and me hands handcuffed, and, knowing as we naaded to hurry, we put our mustangs to their best paces.”
“How was it that you didn't overtake us?”
“You had too much of a start; but when we struck the camp in the mountains—that is, where Lone Wolf and his spalpeens took their breakfast—we wasn't a great way behind 'em. We swung along at a good pace, Soot trying to time ourselves so that we'd strike 'em 'bout dark, when he ca'c'lated there'd be a good chance to work in on 'em.”
“How was it you failed?'
“We'd worked that thing as nice as anything you ever heard tell on, if Lone Wolf hadn't played a trick on us. We had n't gone far on the trail among the mountains, when we found that the spalpeens had separated into two parties—three in one, and something like a hundred in the other.”
“And you did not know which had charge of me?”
“There couldn't be any sartinty about it, and the best we could do was to make a guess. Soot got off his mustang and crawled round on his hands and knees, running his fingers over the ground, and looking down as careful like as me mither used to do with my head when she obsarved me scratching it more industrious than usual. He did n't say much, and arter a time he came back to where his mustang was waitin', and, leanin' agin the beast, looked up in my face, and axed me which party I thought you was in. I said the thray, of course, and that was the rason why they had gone off by themselves.”
“You were right, then, of course.”
“Yes, and when I answered, Soot, he just laughed kind o' soft like, and said that that was the very rason why he did not believe you was with the thray. He remarked that Lone Wolf was a mighty sharp old spalpeen. He knowed that Soot would be coming on his trail, and he divided up his party so as to bother him. Anybody would be apt to think just the same as I did—that the boy would be sent to the Injun town in charge of the little party, while the others went on to hatch up some deviltry. Lone Wolf knowed enough to do that, and he had therefore kept the laddy with the big company, meaning that his old friend, the scout, should go on a fool's errand.
“That's the way Soot rasoned, you see, and that's where he missed it altogether. He wasn't ready for both of us to take the one trail, so it was agreed that we should also divide into two parties—he going after the big company and I after the small one, he figuring out that, by so doing, he would get all the heavy work to do, and I would n't any, and there is where he missed it bad. There wasn't any way that we could fix it so that we could come together again, so the understanding was that each was to go on his own hook, and get back to New Bosting the best way we could, and if there was n't any New Bosting to go to, why, we was to keep on till we reached Fort Severn, which, you know is about fifty miles beyant.
“You understand, I was just as sartin' that I was on your trail as Soot was that he was gainin' on ye; so we both worked our purtiest. I've been studyin' up this trailin' business ever since we struck this side of the Mississippi, and I'd calculated that I'd larned something 'bout such things. I belave I could hang to the tracks of them three horsemen till I cotched up to 'em, and nothing could throw me off; but it was n't long before I begun to get things mixed. The trail bothered me, and at last I was stunned altogether. I begun to think that maybe Soot was right, after all, and the best thing I could do was to turn round and cut for home; but I kept the thing up till I struck a trail that led up into the mountains, which I concluded was made by one of the spalpeens in toting you off on his shoulders. That looked, too, as if the Ingin' settlement was somewhere not far off, and I begun to think ag'in that Soot was wrong and I right. I kept the thing up till night, when I had n't diskivered the first sign, and not only that, but had lost the trail, and gone astray myself.”
“Just as I did,” Fred observed.
“I pushed my mustang ahead,” Mickey continued, “and he seemed to climb like a goat, but there was some places where I had to get off and help him. I struck a spot yesterday where there was the best of water and grass, and the place looked so inviting that I turned him loose, intending to lave him to rist till to-day. While he was there, I thought I might as well be taking observations around there, makin' sartin' to not get out of sight of the hoss, so I shouldn't get lost from him.”
“And is he near by?”
“Not more than a mile away. I was pokin” round like a thaif in a pratie-patch, when I coom onto a small paice of soft airth, where, as sure as the sun shines, I seed your footprint. I knowed it by its smallness, and by the print of them odd-shaped nails in your heel. Well, you see, that just set me wild. I knowed at once that by some hook or crook you had give the spalpeens the slip, and was wandering round kind of lost like mysilf. So I started on the tracks, and followed them, till it got dark, as best I could, though they sometimes led me over the rocks and hard earth, in such a way that I could only guess at 'em. When night came, I was pretty near this spot, but I was puzzled. I could n't tell where to look further, and I was afeared of gettin' off altogether. So I contented mesilf wid shtrayin' here and there, and now and then givin' out the signal that you and me used to toot when we was off on hunts together. When this morning arriv', I struck signs agin, and at last found that your track led toward these bushes, and thinks I to myself, thinks I, you'd crawled in there to take a snooze, and I hove ahead to wake you up, but I was too ambitious for me own good, as was the case when I proposed to Bridget O'Flannigan, and found that she had been already married to Tim McGubbins a twelvemonth, and had a pair of twins to boast of. I own it wasn't a dignified and graceful way of coming down-stairs, but I was down before I made up my mind.”
“Well, Mickey, we are here, and the great thing now is to get out. Can you tell any way?”
The Irishman took the matter very philosophically. It would seem that any one who had dropped down from the outer world as had he, would feel a trifle nervous; but he acted as if he had kindled his camp-fire on the prairie, with the certainty that no enemy was within a hundred miles.
When he and his young friend had eaten all they needed, there was still a goodly quantity left, which he folded up with as much care in the same piece of paper as though it were a tiara of diamonds.
“We won't throw that away just yet. It's one of them things that may come into use, as me mither used to say when she laid the brickbats within aisy raich, and looked very knowingly at her old man.”
After the completion of the meal, man and boy occupied themselves for some time in gathering fuel, for it was their purpose to keep the fire going continually, so long as they remained in the cave—that is, if the thing were possible. There was an immense quantity of wood; it had probably been thrown in from above, as coal is shoveled into the mouth of a furnace, and it must have been intended for the use of parties who had been in the cave before.
When they had gathered sufficiently to last them for a good while, Mickey lit his pipe, and they sat down by the fire to discuss the situation. The temperature was comfortable, there being no need of the flames to lessen the cold; but there was a certain tinge of dampness, natural to such a location, that made the fire grateful, not alone for its cheering, enlivening effect, but for its power in dissipating the slight peculiarity alluded to.
Seated thus the better portion of an hour was occupied by them in talking over the past and interchanging experiences, the substance of which had already been given. They were thus engaged when Mickey, who seemed to discover so much from specimens of the fuel which they had gathered, picked up another stick, which was charred at one end, and carefully scrutinized it, as though it contained an important sermon intended for his benefit.
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE EXPLORING TOUR
After gently tossing the stick in his hand, like one who endeavors to ascertain its weight, Mickey smelled of it, and finally bit his teeth into it, with a very satisfactory result.
“Now, that's what I call lucky, as the old miser obsarved when he found he was going to save his dinner by dying in the forenoon. Do you mind that shtick—big enough to sarve as a respictable shillalah at Donnybrook Fair? Well, my laddy, that has done duty as a lantern in this very place.”
“As a torch, you mean?”
“Precisely; just heft it.” As he tossed it into Fred's hand, the latter was astonished to note its weight.
“What's the cause of that?” he inquired.
“It's a piece of pine, and its chuck full of pitch. That's why it's so heavy. It'll burn like the biggest kind of a candle, and me plan, me laddy, is to set that afire, and then start out to larn something about this new house.”
Nothing could have suited the boy better. He sprang to his feet and took the gun from Mickey, so as to leave him free to carry the torch. One end of the latter was thrust into the fire, and it caught as readily as if it were smeared with alcohol. It was a bit of pine, as fat as it could be, and, as a torch, could not have been improved upon.
Then Mickey elevated it above his head, it gave forth a long yellow smoke blaze, which answered admirably the purpose for which it was required.
“I'll take the lead,” said he to his young friend, when they were ready to start. “You follow a few yards behind and look as sharp as you can to find out all there is to be found out. You know there is much that depends on this.”
There was no possibility of Fred failing to use all his senses to the utmost, and he told his friend to go ahead and do the same.
Mickey first headed toward the cascade, as he had some hope of learning something in that direction. Reaching the base of the falls, they paused a while to contemplate them. There was nothing noteworthy about them, except their location underneath the ground.
The water fell with such a gentle sound that the two were able to converse in ordinary tones when standing directly at the base. Both knelt down and tasted the cool and refreshing element, and then Mickey, torch in hand, led the way up stream again.
Through this world of gloom the two made their way with considerable care. Mickey cherished a lingering suspicion that there might be some one else in the cave besides themselves, in which case he and Fred would offer the best target possible; but he was willing to incur the risk, and, although he moved slowly, it was with a decision to see the thing through, and learn all that was to be learned about the cave. The stream was followed about a hundred yards above the falls, when the explorers reached the point where it entered the cave, and the two made the closest examination possible.
On the way to the point the two had acquired considerable information. The roof of their underground residence had a varying height from the floor of from twenty to fifty feet. The floor itself was regular, but not sufficiently so to prevent their walking over it with comparative ease. The stream was only five or six feet in width and wherever examined was found to be quite shallow. It flowed at a moderate rate, and it entered the cavern from beneath a rock that ascended continuously from the floor to the roof.
“Freddy, my laddy; do you take this torch and walk off aways, so that it will be dark here,” said Mickey to his companion.
The latter obeyed, and the man made as critical an examination as he could. His object was to learn whether the water came into the cave from the outer world, or whether its source was beneath the rock. If the former, there was possibly a way out by means of the stream, provided the distance intervening was not too great. Mickey thought that if this distance were passable, there would be some glimmer of light to indicate it. But, when left alone in the darkness, he found that there was not the slightest approach to anything of the kind, and he was compelled to acknowledge that all escape by that direction was utterly out of the question.
Accordingly, he called Fred to him, and they began the descent of the stream. When they reached the falls, they paused below them, and Micky held the torch close to the water, where it was quiet enough for them to observe the bottom.
“Tell me whether ye can see anything resimbling fishes?”
The lad peered into the water a minute, and them caught a flash of silver several times.
“Yes, there's plenty of them!” he exclaimed, as the number increased, and they shot forward from every direction, drawn to the one point by the glare of the torch. “There's enough fish for us, if we can only find some way to get them out.”
“That's the rub,” said Mickey, scratching his head in perplexity. “I don't notice any fishlines and hooks about here. Howsumever, we can wait awhile, being as our venizon isn't all gone, and we'll look down stream, for there's where our main chance must be.”
The Irishman, somehow or other, had formed the idea that the outlet of the water would show them a way of getting out of the cavern. Despite his careless and indifferent disposition, he showed considerable anxiety, as he led the way along the bank, holding the smoking torch far above his head, and lighting up the gloom and darkness for a long distance on every hand.
“When your eye rists on anything interesting, call me attention to the same,” he cautioned him.
“I'll be sure to do that,” replied Fred, who let nothing escape him.
The scenery was gloomy and oppressive, but acquired a certain monotony as they advanced. The dark water, throwing back the light of the torch; the towering, massive rocks overhead and on every hand; the jagged, irregular roof and floor—these were the characteristics of the scene which was continually opening before and closing behind them. In several places the brook spread out into a slowly flowing pond of fifty or a hundred feet in width; but it maintained its progress all the time.
At no point which they examined did the depth of the water appear greater than three feet, while in most places it was less than that. It preserved its crystal-like clearness at all times, and in all respects was a beautiful stream.
When they had advanced a hundred yards or so, the camp-fire which they had left behind them took on a strange and unnatural appearance. It seemed far away and burned with a pale yellow glare that would have seemed supernatural, had it been contemplated by any one of a superstitious turn.
As near as Mickey could estimate, they had gone over a hundred and fifty yards when the point was reached where the stream gathered itself and passed from view. Its width was no greater than four feet, while its rapidity was correspondingly increased.
After Mickey had contemplated it awhile by the light of the torch, he handed the latter to Fred, and told him to go off so far that he would be left in total darkness. This being done, the man set to work to study out the problem before him.
His theory was that, if the passage of the stream from the cavern to the outside world were brief, the evidence of it could be seen, perhaps, in the faintest tinge of light in the water, The sun was shining brightly on the outside, and unless the stream flowed quite a distance under ground, a portion of the refracted light would reach his eye.
Mickey peered at the base of the rock for a few minutes, and then exclaimed, with considerable excitement:
“Be the powers! but it's there!”
It was dim and faint, as light is sometimes seen through a translucent substance, but he saw it so plainly that there could be no error. When he looked aloft at the impenetrable gloom, he was sensible of the same dim light upon the water. He tested his accuracy of vision by looking in different directions, but the result was the same every time.
The almost invisible illumination being there, the Irishman wanted no philosopher to tell him that it was the sun striking the water as it reached the outside, and the outer world, which he was so desirous of re-entering, was close at hand.
Mickey was in high glee at the discovery, but when he regained his mental poise, he could not shut his eyes to the fact that if he attempted to reach the outer world by means of the stream, he ran a terrible risk of losing his life. There was no vacancy between the water and the stone which shut down upon it. The outlet was like an open faucet to a full barrel. The escaping fluid filled up all the space at command.
No one can live long without air. A few seconds of suspended respiration is fatal to the strongest swimmer. If the distance traveled by Mickey, when he should attempt to dive or float through to the outer world, should prove a trifle too long, the stream would cast out a dead man instead of a live one.
But he was a person of thorough grit, and before he would consent to see himself and Fred imprisoned in this cavern, he would make the attempt, perilous as it was.
Was there no other way of escape? Was there not some opening which had been used by those who had entered this cave ahead of him? Or was it possible that the imprisoning walls were to thin and shell-like in some places that there was a means of forcing their way out? Or was there no plan of climbing up the side of the prison and reaching an opening in the roof, through which they could clamber to safety?
These and other thoughts were surging through the mind of Mickey O'Rooney, when an exclamation from Fred caused him to turn his head. The boy was running toward him, apparently in great excitement.
“What's the matter, me laddy?” asked Mickey, cocking his rifle, which he had taken from him at the time of handing him the torch. “Oh, Mickey, Mickey! I saw a man just now!”