Chapter Thirty.
The reverse of circumstances.
“The worst headache I ever had,” said Jack Meadows to himself, as he lay with his eyes close shut, and in terrible pain; and then, with his brow throbbing, and a miserable sensation of sickness making his head confused, he began thinking, as a lad who has been brought in contact a good deal with a medical man would think, of the causes of his ailment, and what he had eaten that so disagreed with him, while he mentally resolved that, however good it was, he would never be tempted into tasting it again.
He might have added—till next time, but he did not. For just then in his weariness, pain, and mental confusion it seemed to him that some one else was suffering too, and in a similar way, for he heard a low, dismal groan, and a voice muttered—“Oh, my poor nut.” Jack’s eyes sprang open, and apparently let light into his brain, for in one glance he saw more than he had ever seen before in so short a glimpse.
For he had a full comprehension of his position, while the details thereof fixed themselves like an instantaneous photograph upon his mind. The mental agony chased away the physical, and he gasped as he realised that he was bound hand and foot with green rotan cane; that Ned was in a similar condition lying alongside, but with his face away; that they were in an opening on the mountain side shut in by rocks and trees; and worst of all, that a few yards away a party of about twenty blacks of fierce aspect, and their hair mopped out with gum till each savage’s coiffure was bigger than a grenadier’s cap, were seated chattering together and feasting upon some kind of food which they had been roasting at a fire made among the stones.
The peculiar odour of burnt flesh sent a thrill of horror through him, and made a heavy dew of perspiration break out upon his brow at the thought of what probably was to follow, and for a time he felt as if he must shriek aloud. But he remained silent, though he did struggle fiercely to free his hands and feet from their bonds.
How these people had come there was a puzzle, but he was bound to confess that it was no dream. They had evidently landed on the island, prepared a fire, and cooked their food, which certainly was not fish, and they had surprised him and Ned, coming behind and stunning them by blows of the war-club each savage carried stuck through the band he wore about his waist.
One of Jack’s first thoughts was, Had they surprised the doctor and the four men with him as well?
As this thought occurred to him he searched the group eagerly, but there was no sign of any plunder, and certainly he and Ned were the only two prisoners, so there was some hope of their being rescued as soon as they were missed. They were five, and Doctor Instow would not hesitate a moment about attacking—how many were there?
He counted twice over, and then, with his head still sufficiently confused to make the task difficult, he counted again, to find that there were more than he had thought at first, several being flat on chest or back, while two, like the Irishman’s little pig, would not lie still to be counted.
His further thoughts were put an end to by a low groan from his companion in misfortune, who suddenly made an effort and rolled himself over so that he lay face to face with his young master.
“Oh, I say, sir,” he whispered, with a look of horror in his eyes, “ain’t this awful!”
Jack nodded.
“My wristies and ankles are nearly cut through.”
“So are mine.”
“Have they got your gun as well as mine?”
Jack nodded, keeping his eyes on the lithe, shiny bodies of the hungry blacks the while, but they were too much intent upon feasting to take any notice of their prisoners.
“They must have fetched me an awful crack on the head, sir. Did they hit you too?”
“Yes, my head aches horribly, Ned. Look, there are our guns standing up against the rock with their spears.”
“And bows and arrows too, sir. Ugh! gives me the shivers. Poisoned!”
“Ned, do you think we could get at our guns and make a dash to escape?”
“What, and risk the arrows?”
“Yes. Once we could get amongst the trees we should have as good a chance of getting away as they would of catching us.”
“Don’t know so much about that, sir. They ain’t got no clothes to catch in the thorns and creepers.”
“But you’ll try?”
“Try, sir! I should think I would; only I’d wait till it got dark first.”
“By that time we may not be alive, Ned.”
“Oh yes, we shall, sir. If they’d been going to kill us they wouldn’t have taken the trouble to tie us like this.”
“You are saying that to cheer me up, Ned,” whispered Jack.
“No, sir, ’strue as goodness I ain’t. It’s just what I mean. But I’m ready to do anything you do if I can. Legs hurt you, sir, where they’re tied?”
“Horribly, Ned.”
“So do mine, sir, and so does one hand and wrist. T’other don’t seem of any consequence at all. It’s ever so much number than it was before, so that it don’t ache a bit.”
They lay there for some time watching the blacks, who kept on eating as if they would never leave off. Every now and then one went round to the back of the stones which formed their rough fire-place, and helped himself to more, returning to sit down and go on eating with the customary result. Thoroughly glutted at last, first one and then another sank back and went to sleep where he had sat eating, till not one seemed to be on the watch, and Jack looked full in the eyes of his companion in misfortune, questioning him.
“I’d wait just a bit longer to let ’em get off sound, sir,” said Ned softly; and seeing the wisdom of the advice, Jack waited with every nerve on the strain. But there was no sound to be heard, and he took it for granted that the blacks had dragged or carried them for some distance, right away from the track taken by the doctor. As he examined the place more attentively, it seemed as if this was a spot which had been used as a camp before, for the bushes and trees were disfigured by flame and smoke, and the stones and rock which rose up like a wall were utterly bare of grass, lichen, and creeper.
Then as he lay he began to reason out matters a little more, till, right or wrong, he came to the conclusion that this must be a hunting party landed on the island to pursue the droves of pigs, one of which they had killed, cooked, and eaten.
He felt lighter-hearted as he thought this, for ugly ideas had crept into his mind and made him shudder with horror.
That this was the true reason for the blacks being there he felt more and more convinced, and this meant that there must be another opening through the reef somewhere unnoticed during their cruise round the island, so that if an examination had been made then, a canoe would be found run up on the sands waiting for their return.
This point reached, Jack whispered suddenly to Ned—
“Do you think they have tied us up like this so as to take us down to a canoe?”
“Yes, they’ve made us prisoners to take us away somewhere. That’s what I think, sir.”
“Yes, and that’s what I think, Ned. Now look carefully all round, and see if you can make out whether any one is watching.”
“Can’t get my head up, sir,” whispered the man after a pause, “but as far as I can make out they’re all fast asleep.”
“Then let’s try to get away.”
“Yes, sir; but how?”
“Do as I do. I’m outside, and the ground slopes down from here. I’ll start and you follow.”
“But I’m tied wrists and ankles, sir. I can’t stir.”
“Yes, you can. Don’t whisper so loud. I am going to roll myself over slowly, and keep on down that slope till I’m a little way off. Then I think we can get our knives out. I can get yours, or you can get mine. Or did they take yours?”
“No, sir. It’s in my pocket all right; I can feel it against me.”
“Then, ready. It’s of no use to wait longer. I’ll start, and you lie still and watch. If they don’t notice my moving, then you can come.”
“No, sir, we go together or we don’t go at all. I’m not going to lie still and let you be caught and knocked about perhaps.”
“There’s no time for arguing, Ned. Do as I tell you. There, I’m off.”
Ned drew his breath hard, and raised his head a little to note whether his young master’s movements were heard, but though the growth rustled and crackled a little not a savage stirred, and Jack went on rolling himself over and over, suffering pretty sharp pain from his bonds, but setting it at nought, and struggling on till well down out of sight of the rough camp.
Then he stopped and waited for Ned during what seemed to be quite an age before the man joined him, breathing laboriously, and then they lay listening, but all was still.
“Easy enough to escape, sir, if you make up your mind to it.”
“But we have not escaped yet, Ned,” whispered Jack. “We ought to have waited till it was dark. Now then, I’ll creep close to you. Try and put your hand in my pocket and take out the little knife I have there.”
It was harder to do than either of them had anticipated, and Ned suffered agony in one wrist as he strained to get at the knife with one hand, while the other was always in the way and kept it back. At last though he was successful and held it in triumph, but there was something more to do, for a closed blade was as bad as nothing.
Still they say “where there’s a will there’s a way.” Certainly there was will enough here, and by degrees Ned worked himself along so that he could hold the little clasp-knife to Jack’s lips. These parted directly, so did his firm white teeth, and closed upon the blade, while Ned drew at the handle, with the result that the blade was opened a little. Then it was drawn from between Jack’s teeth, and closed with a snap, when the work had to be gone over again.
This time, trembling with excitement and dread lest at any moment the blacks might miss them, Jack closed his teeth with all his might upon the narrow portion of the blade awkwardly offered to him, held on at the risk of the ivory breaking, and Ned drew the handle away slowly, with the result that the strength of the spring was mastered, the knife half opened, and this done the rest was easy.
Ned paused for a few moments to wrench his head round and gaze up the slope toward the savages’ camp, then turning to Jack he laid the blade flat upon the back of his hand, and forced it under the thin cane which bound his wrists, having hard work to do it in his hampered position without cutting his companion’s hands.
“Now, sir,” he whispered, “I’ll turn the blade edge outwards, and you must work yourself up and down against it. Try now.”
Jack made an effort, which hurt his wrist horribly without doing the slightest good.
“That won’t do, sir,” whispered Ned. “I can’t help you half so much as by holding still. Now try again, not jigging as you did before, but giving yourself a regular see-saw sort of swing. Now then ’fore they wake. Off you go.”
It was agony. The back of the knife-blade seemed to be cutting bluntly down upon his wrist-bones, but setting his teeth hard, Jack forced himself downward and drew back.
“That’s the sort, sir. Don’t do much, but it’s doing something. If I had my hands free I could soon cut the withes. Keep it up.”
Setting his teeth harder, Jack kept on the sawing movement, apparently without avail, but the pain grew less as the edge of the blade cut into the cane.
“It’s of no use, Ned,” whispered the lad. “Let’s try to undo the knots with our teeth. I’ll try on yours first.”
“You keep on sawing,” said the man in a low growl, and the words came so fiercely that Jack involuntarily obeyed, and the next minute, to his great surprise, there was a faint cracking sound; one strand of the cane band was through, and the rest uncurled like a freed spring.
“Hah! I thought so,” said Ned with a low chuckle of satisfaction. “Now catch hold of the knife and cut the band round your ankles.”
“I can hardly feel the handle,” muttered Jack.
“You will directly. Look sharp, sir, sharp as your knife.”
“Yes,” said Jack, “but I’m going to cut your wrists free first.”
“No, no, sir; your legs.”
Jack set his teeth again as hard as when he was holding the back of the knife-blade, and in response he took hold of Ned’s hand with his left and applied the edge across the cane which held the poor fellow’s wrists, and in a clumsy fumbling way began to saw downward.
“Mr Jack, Mr Jack!” whispered the man excitedly, “you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t! I wanted to get you cut loose first.”
“You hold your tongue and keep still,” said the lad. “I don’t want to cut your wrist. Steady. Oh, how numb and helpless my hands feel.”
“They cut well enough, sir,” said Ned with a laugh, as the outer turn of the cane band was divided, and once more the tough vegetable cord opened like a spiral string.
“That’s your sort, Mr Jack, sir. Give me hold of the knife. My turn now.”
“No, no, my hands are getting better. Rub your wrists while I cut your ankles free.”
For answer Ned made a dash at the knife, but Jack avoided him, and forgetting everything in his desire to set his companion at liberty, he began sawing away at his ankles, while Ned thrust his hand into his own pocket and drew out his knife, to begin operating directly after upon Jack’s bonds, with so much success that he was able to free him first.
His own were at liberty though directly after, and then they lay panting and perfectly still.
Jack was the first to speak.
“Now then,” he said, “shall we crawl up and try and get our guns?”
“And make one of them wake and tap us both again on the head. No, sir, that won’t do. Soon as you feel that you can move, crawl right away in among the bushes, and I’ll follow. Have you got any hands and feet? because I feel as if I hadn’t.”
“Mine are terribly numb, Ned, but we’ll start at once. It will do me more good to work them than to rest them. Which way?”
“Downwards, because it’s more easy. Then go into that hollow ditch-like bit.”
“But it goes upward.”
“Never mind, take it, and we shall be out of sight. It will be best. They’re sure to think we’ve made for the sea. Why, how dark it’s growing. Didn’t know it was so late.”
Jack said nothing, but began to crawl away as fast as his tingling, helpless limbs would allow, feeling that so long as they got away from their captors it did not so much matter which direction they took. He turned his head from time to time to see if Ned was all right, and found that he was lamely struggling on after him, but always gave him a cheery look.
Jack followed the rugged little ditch-like place, which had evidently been carved out by one of the rivulets which ran down from the mountain, but after following it some time and turning to look back at Ned, he suddenly dropped flat on his face and began to crawl out of it, and toward the shelter of the forest, which came close up.
“What’s the matter?” said Ned.
“Don’t lift your head; creep as flat as you can, and let’s get among the bushes.”
“That’s right enough; but why? It won’t be such good going.”
“We’ve been crawling higher and higher,” said Jack, “and when I turned to see how you were getting on, I looked down over your shoulder, on to the smoke of the fire, and the blacks were lying about it, and just at that moment one of them jumped up, and then all the rest followed, and they must have missed us!”
“Shall we get up and run then?”
“No, no, they may not come this way. Hark! what’s that?”
“Wind. Why, I didn’t see it coming, only thought it was evening. We’re in for a storm.”
“Never mind, if it will only keep them from following us, Ned.”
They struggled on, finding their limbs less helpless. Minute by minute, and just before plunging into the darkness beneath the trees, Jack turned to raise his head slightly, and to his great delight saw ten or twelve of the blacks far below the smoke of their camp, and evidently descending the mountain slope, but the next instant his hopes were crushed, for there in full pursuit, coming along the stony hollow up which they had crawled, was another party of the enemy.
“In with you, Ned,” he whispered, as he dropped down again to creep into the dense growth which swallowed him like a verdant sea, while before they had penetrated many yards the gloom beneath the spreading branches was lit up by a flash of lightning. The next minute the flashes came so quickly that the forest seemed turned into one vast temple, whose black pillars supported a ceiling of flame, and as the deafening detonations shook the earth around them, they were glad to crouch as quickly as they could in a recess formed at the foot of a gigantic tree which sent out flat buttresses on every side, more buttresses passing down into roots.
They were none too soon, for the storm was, brief as the time had been, now in full force; the rain dashed and swept in amongst the groaning trees, and the noise and confusion were deafening, and made the more awe-inspiring by the lashing of the branches as they were driven here and there by the wind.
“What’s that, sir?” cried Ned, with his lips to his companion’s ear, for a tremendous crash had succeeded a roar of thunder.
“Tree gone down.”
“Oh!” said Ned, pressing Jack close up into the recess. “Well, so long as it ain’t this one I suppose we mustn’t grumble. But I’d rather have undressed myself before I took my bath, sir, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, how can you talk like that!” shouted Jack.
“’Cause I feel so jolly and satisfied,” said Ned, with his lips again to Jack’s ear. “A bit ago it was all over with us, going to be took and tied up again, sir. P’r’aps to be taken away and fatted and eaten. Now there’s nothing the matter, only it’s a bit dark. Don’t seem, sir, as if I’m doing any good in trying to be your umbrella. You are a little moist, I suppose, sir?”
“Moist, Ned! I’m soaking; I can feel the water running down into my boots.”
“Oh, never mind, sir. We’ll have a good wring out as soon as the storm’s over. But my word, I never saw lightning like this before, and never felt it rain so hard.”
“Nor thunder so loud,” cried Jack. “It is terrible. Hush! hark at that!”
“Water, sir, running down this way.”
“Shan’t be washed away from here, shall we, Ned?”
“No, sir, I think not. Seems to me that it’s coming down that bit of a ditch we crawled up.”
It was: the dry, stony bed having been filled in a few minutes six feet deep by a raging torrent, which was constantly being augmented by scores of furious rills, the upper portions of the mountain having been struck by what resembled a swirling water-spout.
“I say, Mr Jack, I hope the yacht won’t get washed away. Which side of that stony ditch were the niggers when you saw ’em last?”
“The other side.”
“Then they won’t come this. Now if they’d only take to thinking that we’d been washed down the side and out to sea, what a blessing it would be for us! They wouldn’t come and hunt for us any more.”
“Don’t—pray don’t talk,” cried Jack. Then to himself,—“Oh, if the storm would only keep on.”
But, as has been shown, it did not. Its violence on their side of the mountain was soon exhausted, and it swept on and out to sea, leaving the fugitives standing where hundreds of rills came amongst the foot of the trees on their way toward the stream overflowing the stony channel, while the leaves and boughs poured down a constant shower of heavy drops.
By degrees the force of the water abated, the slope being too steep for it to continue long within the regular channels which scored the mountain side; and leaving their temporary asylum, the fugitives pressed on in the hope of reaching the ravine up which they had been making their way that morning when they hung back and were left behind.
But it was in a bewildered way that they pushed on, till hours must have passed, feeling that there was nothing for them but to try and find a refuge in some rude shelter such as they had several times encountered by the side of one of the lava-streams, where in cooling the volcanic matter had split up and broken, and formed wildly curious, cavernous places, any one of which would have been welcome.
Night was coming on fast; they dare not attempt to descend, and it began to be plain that they would have to be content with a resting-place on some stony patch from which the water had drained, when, as they staggered along, just within the sheltering gloom of the huge forest trees, they stumbled upon one of the ancient lava-streams, which stopped their progress like some mountainous wall, and a very few minutes’ search was sufficient to find the shelter they required, a dark, cavernous place whose flooring was of volcanic sand.
“It’s dry as a bone, Mr Jack, sir,” said Ned, after stooping down, “and as warm as warm. Well, sir, if this ain’t sunshine after storm I should like to know what is!”
Jack was too much exhausted to reply, and directly after he began to follow his companion’s example by stripping off and wringing his clothes.
“Black sunshine this, Ned,” he said.
“Well, sir, it is certainly; but you can’t say it ain’t warm. You put your hand down on the sand.”
“Yes; it’s quite warm, Ned.”
“Why, is this only the back-door into the burning mountain, sir? Because if so, will it be safe?”
“Ned, I’m too tired to talk. Pray be quiet and let me think. We must be safer than out upon the mountain side. Let’s lie down and rest.”
Chapter Thirty One.
A bi-startler.
“What’s that?” cried Jack, starting up into a sitting position, to face Ned, who rubbed his eyes and stared.
“I dunno, sir; sounded to me like a horrid shriek.”
“Yes; that was what woke me, Ned,” said Jack in an awestricken whisper. “It sounded like some one being killed.”
“There it is again!” cried Ned, as a harsh, shrill sound arose from close at hand, to be followed by a chorus of discordant cries, which seemed to run in by them to be echoed and made more hollow and strange.
“Talk about sharpening saws,” said Ned, as he hurriedly began to dress, “why that’s lovely to it. Cockatoos, that’s what it is. Good job it’s daylight, or I should have been thinking that we’d come to sleep in an awful place.”
“I couldn’t make out where we were, Ned, for some time. Did you sleep well?”
“I dunno, sir. Don’t know nothing about it, only that I lay down and snuggled the sand over me a bit. Next thing I heard was those birds. How did you get on, sir?”
“Slept! oh, so soundly!”
“And feel all the better for it, sir?”
“Yes—no, my head aches and feels sore from the blow.”
“Ah, I should like to have a turn at those chaps, Mr Jack, sir; I owe ’em one, and you owe ’em one too. Perhaps we shall get a chance to pay ’em some day.”
“I hope not,” said Jack, who was hurrying on his clothes.
“You hope not, sir?”
“Yes, of course. I hope we may never see or hear anything of them again. And perhaps they’re waiting on the mountain side to seize us as soon as we go out of this cave.”
“Then we mustn’t go out till they’re gone, sir. Clothes pretty dry, sir?”
“Yes, Ned, they seem quite dry; but I want to bathe.”
“What, again, sir? I got washed enough last night to last me for a bit. Fine place this would be to bring a cargo of umbrellas, if there was any one to buy ’em. I never saw it rain like that.”
“Oh, Ned—Ned, do try and talk sensibly,” cried Jack. “How can you make jokes when we are in such danger?”
“I dunno about being in danger now, sir. We’re pretty safe at present. I say, sir, this must be the way down into the kitchen,” continued Ned, as he went on dressing, and trying to peer into the darkness of the cavernous place. “My word, can’t you smell the black beadles?”
“I do smell something,” replied Jack thoughtfully. “It must be volcanic.”
“Beadly, sir. There, it’s quite strong.” At that moment from farther in a fluttering and squealing sound was heard, and Ned started back. “There, sir, I said so. Mice and rats too.”
“Nonsense; it is the great fruit bats.”
“What, those we see of a night, sir, bigger than pigeons?”
“Yes; this is one of their roosting-places.”
“And do they smell like beadles, sir?”
“Yes; very much like. But now, Ned, what shall we do next?”
“Well, sir, if I did what I liked I should choose a good breakfast; but as I can’t, what do you say to going a bit farther in here to see what it’s like?”
“Not now. I want to make out whereabouts we are, and whether the blacks are on the look-out for us still; and then I want to communicate with my father; he must be horribly anxious about us, Ned.”
“Yes; I expect he thinks we’ve gone down some hole, sir, and it strikes me he’ll be saying something to the doctor for going and leaving us behind.”
“I’m afraid that it was our fault, Ned, for not keeping up.”
“Well, sir, we can’t help it now. Next best thing is to get back to the yacht, so as soon as you’re ready we’ll make a start; but I’m afraid it will be a long walk before breakfast.”
“Terribly long, I’m afraid.”
“But there’s always a good side to everything, sir, even if it’s a looking-glass,” continued Ned philosophically. “We’re better off than you might think.”
“I can’t see it, Ned.”
“Why, we’ve got no guns, nor wallets, nor cartridges to carry, sir. Now then, will you lead?”
“Yes; be cautious. We don’t know but what some of the blacks may be near.”
“That’s true, sir. First thing I s’pose is to get what old Lenny calls our bearings.”
“Yes; we must find out where we face,” said Jack, and he advanced cautiously to the cavern’s entrance, and began to peer round warily for danger.
But there was no sign of any. They were very high up, the morning was clear, the sun was gilding the vapours which rose from the rifts and valleys, and the sea glittered gloriously. Far below they obtained glimpses of the reef with its fringe of foam; but not a murmur of the beating waves reached them, while overhead, partially hidden in clouds, the crater of the volcano showed some of its craggy slopes, and the forest beneath seemed to be less dense.
“I can’t make out where we are, Ned,” said Jack at last. “Yes, I can; we have worked round more to the south, and must have done nothing but get farther and farther away from the yacht.”
“Think so, sir? Let’s see; we anchored east side first, then we went round and anchored west, and you say we’ve been travelling south. Well, I dare say you’re right, and that means we must keep to the west again. Why, those black fellows must have taken us out of that little valley and put us in another one. I must say it’s rather puzzling, sir. But you lead, and I’ll follow, for it’s of no use for me to pretend to be able to steer.”
Jack made no reply, but stood looking downward, seeing nothing of the glorious prospect below, his mind being taken up with thoughts of trying to hit the head of the ravine up which they had travelled, for he knew the difficulties attendant upon going down another, to be led right to the edge of the lagoon, with the puzzle before him of not knowing whether to travel to right or left.
“There’s that flock of shriekers coming along below there, Mr Jack, sir,” said the man, breaking in upon the lad’s reverie. “No, it ain’t: it’s pigs. I can see ’em, sir; there they go. My word, I wish I had a gun, and they came within reach; I’d have a shot at one of ’em, and before long it would be roast pork for breakfast. See ’em, sir? There they go.”
They were plain enough to see at times, a drove of twenty or so, of all sizes, down to quite small porkers, as they raced along over the open patches, and then disappeared in amongst the trees, to re-appear once more as they made for the denser portions of the forest.
“Why, there’s one left behind, Ned,” said Jack suddenly. “It looks as if it was lame.”
“Why, it has broken down. Look, sir, how it keeps limping. I say, we must have him. We can’t let a chance like that go when we’re starving. Keep your eye on the spot, sir, while I try and hit off some mark to know him by.”
Jack’s response, as Ned moved to get into a better position for observation, was to leap upon the man and drag him back into the entrance of the cavern.
“What did you do that for, sir?” he cried angrily.
“Couldn’t you see what was coming?”
“No, sir,” cried Ned surlily; “could you?”
“Go down on hands and knees to that block of stone lying there, and peep over cautiously.”
Ned obeyed in an ill-used fashion, and dropped down again to crawl back into the cavern.
“Oh, I say, Mr Jack, seven or eight of them.”
“I only saw two.”
“Quite what I said, sir. They must have been hunting the drove, and speared the one that hung behind. Now, then, they’ll be stopping to cook and have another feast. Suppose they come in here to make this their kitchen? Hadn’t we better slip out at once and make a run for it?”
“Run for it?” cried Jack. “How can we up here, where it is all slow climb? No, we must keep in hiding.”
“But suppose they choose this place and come here?”
“Not likely, Ned. If they do we must go farther into its depths.”
“Ugh!” cried the man with a shudder. “I want to get out of the hole. It’s hot and steamy, and unnatural. I believe some of the melted stuff came out this way.”
“What, the molten lava? Of course,” said Jack coolly. “I don’t understand much about it, but it’s plain enough that this was all liquid molten matter once, and that it ran out along here.”
“What, this rock, Mr Jack? Do you mean melted like lead and running down?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, I say, Mr Jack, is this a time, with black Indians close at hand, to go stuffing a fellow with cranky tales?”
“I am only telling you the simple truth, Ned.”
“But hard stone can’t melt.”
“Yes, it can, if the heat is great enough. This was all running like molten metal once, this part under our feet.”
“And what about this where we are, sir?”
“It seems to me, Ned, as if it were the cindery froth on the top, that was full of gas and steam, so that when it cooled it left all these holes and cracks and crevices. Look at that piece lying there; only that it’s of a beautiful silvery grey, it looks just like one of the pieces of cinder which pop out of the fire.”
“Want a pretty good-sized fire for a piece like that to pop out of, sir,” said the man scornfully.
“Well, it must have been a good-sized fire when this great mountain was in eruption, and the red-hot lava boiling over the sides of the crater and running down.”
“But do you really think it ever did, sir?”
“I have no doubt about it whatever. Look at that piece lying half buried in the black sand. What is that?”
“Looks like black glass, sir,” said Ned, kicking a piece of obsidian.
“Well, it is volcanic glass. How could that have been made without heat?”
“I dunno, sir. It caps me.”
“You said the place was hot.”
“No need to say it, sir. I’m as hot as hot. Brings me out in a prespiration.”
“St! don’t talk so loudly, Ned. The place echoes so.”
At that moment the man laid his hand upon Jack’s arm and pointed downward.
The lad followed the direction of the pointing hand, to see that a group of the blacks were coming in their direction, and for the moment Jack felt that they must be seen, until he saw that they were standing well in the shadow.
His first impulse was to catch Ned’s arm, stoop down and hurry away to reach the shelter of the trees, but Ned stopped him.
“No good, sir. We should be seen. Let’s go right in here.”
“What, to be trapped?”
“They mightn’t come in here, sir, and if they did, perhaps they couldn’t find us. Anyhow they’re sure to see us and come after us if we go outside.”
The wisdom of the words was evident enough, and with a sigh Jack drew back with his companion, startling some birds from a shelf where they seemed to be nesting within reach of his hand, and sending them rushing out uttering their alarm notes.
“Are we in far enough, Mr Jack?” said Ned.
“No: any one could see us here. Come along.”
They went on inward for another twenty yards, the mouth of the entrance still being in full view. It was awkward travelling, the black sand having given place to loose pieces of scoria and obsidian, some pieces of which crackled under their boots, and took revenge by entering into the soles. As they went in the place widened out, but remained much about the same height overhead, the highest portions of the roof being nearly within touch of Ned’s hand.
Here the latter stopped again.
“Don’t let’s go any farther, sir,” he said nervously. “Don’t you feel a bit frightened?”
“Of course I do. It would be horrible if they caught us again. They would kill us.”
“Yes, sir; most likely,” said Ned. “Be awkward, wouldn’t it? But don’t you feel scared-like about this great black hole?”
“Scared? No; I like it, Ned.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, sir. You can’t. Don’t say that. There! There it is again. Just over your head.”
He shrank back with his fist doubled as if prepared to strike.
“What is it?” cried Jack, startled now.
“I dunno, sir. Let’s go back,” cried the man in an agitated whisper. “It’s very horrid though. There’s lots of ’em shuffling and scrambling about in the cracks and holes, staring at you with their wicked-looking eyes, and more ’n once I’ve seen ’em flapping their wings. I don’t like it. Let’s go back.”
“Go back to be taken? Impossible. Look, they are only bats.”
“Bats with wings a yard across, sir? Oh, come, I know better than that.”
“What are they then?” said Jack angrily.
“Oh, I dunno, sir. Something horrid as lives in this dreadful place. They make me feel creepy all down my back. I’d rather have a set-to with one of the ugliest blacks yonder.”
“I tell you they are bats—the great fruit bats. Why, Captain Bradleigh pointed them out to me the other night, flying overhead in the darkness just like big crows.”
“Are you sure, sir? There, look at that thing staring down at you and making noises. Mind, pray, Mr Jack, sir, or he’ll have you. Perhaps their bite’s poison.”
“They will not bite if we leave them alone. They are flying foxes.”
“Flying wolves, I think, sir. I say, hadn’t we better go back?”
“No,” said Jack firmly. “Why, Ned, are you going to turn coward?”
“Hope not, sir; and that’s what worries me—me being a man and feeling as I do, while you’re only a boy and don’t seem to mind a bit. I wouldn’t care so much if you were frightened too.”
“Well, I am frightened, Ned—horribly frightened, but not of the flying foxes.”
“But you don’t seem to mind what might be farther in, sir,” said Ned, staring wildly into the darkness ahead.
“Oh yes, I do,” replied Jack. “I’m afraid we might slip down into some horrible black pit; but we need not if we’re careful.”
“Ah, you don’t seem to understand me, sir, and I don’t quite understand myself. I suppose it’s from only being half myself again, for one of my arms is no good at all. That’s what makes me feel a bit cowardly like.”
“Yes, of course, it makes you nervous,” said Jack quietly.
“There! Feel that, sir?” whispered Ned in a horror-stricken voice.
“That hot puff of air? Yes, it’s curious. I suppose it would grow warmer the farther we went in.”
“And you taking it as cool as can be, sir,” said Ned in a voice full of reproach.
“Well, why not? We’ve only got to be careful, just as we should have to be if we were climbing up to the crater. There would be hot steamy puffs of air there, and— Quick, don’t speak. Take hold of my hand, and let’s go softly right in.”
Ned did not hesitate, but obeyed at once, and they walked softly on into the darkness ahead, for from apparently close behind them—though the speakers had not yet reached the mouth of the low cavern—there came the confused angry gabble of many voices, and on looking back Ned saw the mouth of the place darkened, and it seemed as if the enemy were about to come in; but some were apparently hesitating, and protesting against its being done.
Ned’s dread of the unseen departed at sight of the seen, and he walked firmly onward, gripping Jack’s hand tightly.
“Come on in, sir,” he whispered; “they’re after us. Let’s get into a dark corner, and let ’em have it with stones—some of these sharp bits.”
Everything seemed to point to the fact that they must either get right into the depths of the cavern and trust to finding a place of concealment, or stand on their defence as Ned suggested, and meet their enemies with stones.
They must have retreated quite fifty yards over the sharp cracking fragments, when the light which shone in upon them from the mouth suddenly ceased, and looking round for the cause, they found that the passage had made a sudden turn, so that they had to go back three or four yards before they could catch sight of the enemy.
That which they saw was enough to startle them, showing as it did the imminence of their danger, and that the blacks were probably coming in search of them, under the belief that they were in hiding. For one, evidently the leader, was in advance, with bow and arrow in hand ready to shoot, and his companions held their spears prepared for action as they came on in a stooping attitude.
“Shall we shoot at ’em?” whispered Ned, feeling now in the presence of danger.
“No. Let’s get a little heap of stones and be ready to throw when they are well in reach.”
“Oh, if I could only use my other arm!” muttered Ned. “Come on then, sir. They can’t see us now. Perhaps there’s a narrower place farther in, and the darker it is the better for us and the worse for them.”
The change in the poor fellow was wonderful. He did not seem like the same. It struck Jack for the moment, but he had something else to think about, and he followed his companion quickly, at the risk of slipping into some precipitous place.
It was too dark to see much when they stopped again, but they could feel plenty of rough pieces of stone beneath their feet, and the place was narrow enough to make the chances of a successful defence greater.
“It’s an ugly job, Mr Jack, sir,” said Ned, “and I feel precious shaky about my throwing, though there was a time when I’d hurl a cricket-ball with any man I knew. If they think they’re coming nobbling us about with their war-clubs and getting nothing back, they’re precious well mistaken, so scuffle up all you can, and— Oh! Murder!”
Ned dropped down on his face, and Jack crawled against the wall, for at the first attempt made to pull a stone from a heap there was a sharp rustling sound, a little avalanche of fragments was set in motion, and they fell with a tremendous splash into some subterranean natural reservoir; a loud reverberation followed, and instantaneously, as the echoes went bellowing out through the passage by which the fugitives had entered, there was a strange rushing fluttering, and the sound as of a roaring mighty wind unchained from some vast chasm where it had lain at rest.
Jack felt the wind touching him as it passed. Then in a flash he knew that it was caused by the beating of thousands of wings, and then, with his heart beating heavily, he was listening to an outburst of shrieks and yells, and lastly nothing was to be heard but Ned groaning and muttering:
“Oh dear! oh dear! it ’d frighten any man, let alone a poor chap who’s been wounded mortal bad!”
A few minutes of time only were occupied by the whole of what took place, from the first rattle of the stones to Ned’s piteous ejaculations, and Jack crouched there listening till the poor fellow exclaimed—
“Mr Jack, sir, where are you? Don’t say you’re dead.”
“No, Ned, I won’t.”
“Oh, my dear lad, where are you then?” gasped the poor fellow wildly.
“Here, quite safe; but don’t move, there must be a terrible gulf close beside you.”
“Yes, sir, and I thought it had swallowed you. I say, is it all over with us?”
“I hope not,” said Jack quietly. “But listen, Ned; can you hear the blacks?”
“Hear ’em! No, sir. My ears seem full of the shrieks and cries of those things as they tore out of the place, and you would stick out that they were bats. Phew, can’t you smell ’em?”
“Yes, plainly enough; but it was not the bats made those noises, it must have been the blacks.”
“No, no, sir, it was those horrid things. I felt ’em hitting me with their wings as they swooped by.”
“Nonsense, nonsense. They were scared by the noise of the stones falling, and the echoes, and it seems to me that they scared the blacks as well as us, and they have run out again.”
“What!” cried Ned. “You don’t mean that, Mr Jack?”
“But I do. Ned, they’ve gone.”
“Well! and I was only just before thinking that I was getting over being so shaky and nervous, and not so queer about myself, and then for me to break down like that. Of all the cowardly cranks I ever did come across! Oh, I say, Mr Jack, sir, ain’t you ashamed of me?”
“I’m quite as ashamed of myself, Ned. I don’t know who could help being frightened; my heart’s beating tremendously still. But they’ve gone, Ned, I feel sure.”
“Well, I believe they have, sir, ’pon my word. But I say, Mr Jack, sir, don’t be offended at what I say.”
“Of course not. Say it quick.”
“It’s on’y this, sir; are you the same young gent as sailed with us from Dartmouth a short time ago? because you cap me.”
“Here, give me your hand,” cried Jack. “No; stop. Don’t move. You might slip. Can’t we get a light?”
“Light, sir? Yes; of course. I’ve got a little box of wax matches in my pocket.”
There was a faint rustling sound in the darkness, and then Ned uttered a groan.
“Lost them?”
“No, sir; here they are, but I forgot about the rain last night. They must be all soaked and spoiled.”
“Try one.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll try. But I say, Mr Jack, this is like being in a mine, and it must be fiery, as they call it, being so hot. Will there be any danger of an explosion from gas?”
“Oh, surely not. This isn’t a coal-mine, but a sort of grotto under a flow of lava. Try if one of them will light.”
“All right, sir. I say, they rattle all right, as if they were hard.”
The box clicked as Ned opened it; he took out a match, rubbed it sharply, and there was a faint line of phosphorescent light.
“No go, sir; just like one of them fishy things we get alongside.”
“Try another.”
Whisk—crick—crick—crack—and a flash of light.
“Hooray!” cried Ned, as the tiny taper blazed up and burned steadily, showing that the holder was close to the edge of a huge chasm, down which a couple of strides would have taken him, and as the light burned lower Jack crept quickly to where Ned still crouched by the side of the passage.
“Why, Ned, I could not see much, but this opens out here into a vast place.”
“Yes, sir; I got a glimpse of it. Shall I light another match?”
“No, no, save them.”
“But we ought to get out of here as soon as we can, sir.”
“Of course, but we shall see a faint gleam from the entrance directly our eyes have grown used to the change.”
“Shall we, sir?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I don’t want to show the white feather again, but I can’t help feeling that we ought to be out of this.”
“Wait and listen.”
“Can’t hear nothing, sir,” said the man after a minute’s pause.
“No, and I can see the faint dawn of light there gleaming against the wall yonder. Let’s begin to go back very quietly in case the blacks are still there.”
“I’m more than ready, sir.”
“Then lead on, Ned.”
“Mean it, sir?”
“Yes, go on.”
Ned rose, and Jack followed suit, to begin stepping cautiously on, till by slow degrees they reached the sharp angle in the passage, and could look straight out to the entrance and see that all was clear, while there before them was the bright sunny sky, and away in the distance the gleaming sea.
“I say, who’s afraid?” cried Ned excitedly. “But, Mr Jack, sir, what a rum thing darkness is! I felt twice as much scared over that as I did about the niggers, and— Oh, I say, look at that!”
Before the lad could grasp what he was about to do, Ned ran forward toward the light till he was half-way to the mouth of the cavern, when Jack saw the dark silhouette-like figure stoop down again and again, to pick up something each time, and he returned laughing, bearing quite a bundle of spears, bows, and arrows.
“There, I was right,” cried Jack; “they were frightened—so scared that they dropped their weapons and ran.”
“Yes, sir, and set us up with some tools. Oh, if it had only been our guns!”
Chapter Thirty Two.
The evil of not being used to it.
But the blacks had not left the guns, and utterly unused as these two were to the use of such savage weapons, they felt a thrill of satisfaction run through them as they grasped the means of making one stroke in defence of their lives.
“It’s a many years since I used to go into the copses to cut myself a good hazel and make myself a bow, Mr Jack, and get reeds out of the edge of the long lake, to tie nails in the ends and use for arrows. I used to bind the nails in with whitey-brown thread well beeswaxed, and then dress the notch at the other end to keep the bowstring from splitting it up. I’ve hit rabbits with an arrow before now, though they always run into their holes. You can shoot with a bow and arrow at a target of course?”
“I? No, Ned,” said the boy sadly. “I can’t do anything but read.”
“Oh, I say, sir! Why, I’ve seen you knock over things with a gun. Look how you finished that sea snake.”
“I suppose I’d better try though, Ned.”
“Why of course, sir. You take the one you like. Here’s three of them. Wish they hadn’t been so stingy with the arrows—only five between two of us. Never mind. Hadn’t got any ten minutes ago. We’ll keep a pair apiece and have one to spare, and a spear each. We’ll leave the others in here, and let ’em fetch ’em if they dare.”
“Yes,” said Jack, selecting his weapons; “but we must not go out yet.”
“Well, sir, I don’t want to interfere, but I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch yesterday, and if I don’t soon do some stoking my engine won’t go.”
“But you don’t expect that you are going to kill anything with these things?” cried Jack.
“I’m going to try, sir. Savages can, and have a feast of roast pig after, so we ought to be able to. Don’t you think we might risk starting, and get higher up the mountain, and then round somehow, and make for the shore?”
“It will be very risky by daylight.”
“But we can’t go in the dark, sir.”
“Come on then,” cried Jack. “The blacks may have been scared right away, so let’s chance it.”
He led the way to the entrance, where, to the great delight of both, they found another bow lying, and close by one of the melon-headed war-clubs and a bundle of arrows, upon which Ned pounced regardless of danger, while Jack crept to the stones outside and took a long look round, over gully, rock, and patch of forest. But there was nothing living within sight but a couple of flocks of birds, one green, the others milky white, and showing plainly as they flew over against the green trees.
“See anything of that lame pig, sir?” said Ned, handing him the arrows to take what he liked.
“No; nor the blacks neither.”
“They’re hiding somewhere, sir, and I dare say on the look-out, or I’d be for going to have a look below there.”
“That would be too risky, Ned. Let’s creep to where we can get cover, and then do as you say, keep along the more open part under the trees, and see if we can get round somewhere by the sands.”
“On you go then, sir, and whatever you do, don’t lose a chance of a shot. We must have something to eat, or we can never get back. Oh yes, you’re a very beautiful island, no doubt—very well to look at, but I don’t think much of a place where you can’t find the very fruit as would be a blessing to us now.”
“And what fruit’s that, Ned?” said Jack, as they reached the shelter of the trees about a couple of hundred yards from the mouth of the cave.
“Well, sir, I’m not an Irishman, for as far back as I know we all came from Surrey; but I’d give something if I could find a patch of ’em going off at the haulm, ready to be grubbed up and shoved in the ashes of a fire to roast.”
“What, potatoes?”
“Yes, sir, a good big round ’tater would just about fit me now, and I shouldn’t fiddle about any nonsense as to trying it on.”
“There’ll be no potatoes for you, Ned, but we may find some wild bananas lower down.”
“That’s a nice comforting way of talking to a poor hungry chap who is going up, Mr Jack; but you keep a good look-out, and we must have a shot at the first thing we see, and then light a fire and cook it, and if that first thing we see happens to be a nigger, sir—well, I’m sorry for him, and I hope he won’t be tough!”
Ned directed a comical look at his young master as he began to try the bow, holding it in his injured, nerveless grasp, and pulling at the string.
“Is it hard, Ned?”
“Pretty tidy, sir. Takes a good pull, but I can manage it, and—Hullo! Look at that.”
He threw the bow, arrows, and spear down, stretched out his left arm to the full extent; drew it in so as to raise the biceps, and then stretched it out again, and began to move it round like the sail of a windmill.
“What’s the matter with you?” cried Jack. “Are you going mad?”
“Pretty nigh, sir. Look at that—and that—and that!”
The three “thats” were so many imaginary blows in the air, delivered sharply and with all the man’s force.
“But I don’t understand you, Ned. What do you mean?”
“Why, can’t you see, sir? That arm’s been as dead as a stick ever since I got that arrow, now it has come to life again, and is stronger than ever. I know what’s done it!”
“Being obliged to try and use it,” cried Jack quickly.
“That’s got something to do with it perhaps, sir, but that isn’t everything. It was that soaking last night, and then the stewing in that hot sand. It took all the rest of the trouble away. Now then, only let me get a chance at one of these chaps, and I’ll try how he likes arrow. I’ll ’arrow his feelings a bit.”
“But are you sure your arm is quite strong again?” cried Jack joyfully.
For answer Ned swung his left round the speaker’s waist, lifted him from the ground, and held him up with ease.
“What do you say to that, sir? But there, come along, I want to get something to eat. I feel horrid, and begin to understand how it is that some of the people out here eat one another.”
“Don’t keep on talking such absurd stuff, Ned,” cried Jack, half angrily, half amused; for in the early stages of suffering from hunger there are symptoms of a weak hysterical disposition to laugh.
“But I’m so hungry, sir!”
“Well, push on, and we may get a chance at a big bird of some kind. But suppose we should shoot one—we might—these arrows may be poisoned.”
“Wouldn’t matter, sir. They say cooking kills the poison. Which way now?”
“Keep bearing to the right up the mountain, but always well within shelter. We must not be taken again.”
“Good-bye to the wild bananas that grow below,” muttered Ned; and he pressed on eagerly, but keeping a sharp look-out all the while, and whenever an opening had to be crossed, setting the example of going down on all fours.
“Won’t do though to keep like this, sir,” he said; “why, they’d shoot at us at once for wild beasts of some kind. But do look here, sir! Ain’t it wonderful—ain’t it grand? My arm feels as if it had been bottling up all its strength, and to be readier than ever now. Oh, if we could only see something to shoot at.”
But saving small brightly-plumaged birds, they encountered nothing to tempt the venture of an arrow, and at the end of what must have been quite two hours, when the cave of the lava flow was left far behind, and several hundred feet lower, Jack dropped upon his knees beside a lovely little pool, into which trickled through the rocks and stones a thread-like stream of the clearest water.
“No, no, sir, don’t drink—it’s bad. Cold water when you’re hot, and on an empty stomach.”
“But I’m so thirsty, Ned, and it looks so tempting.”
“I’m ever so much thirstier, sir. Look here, let’s do what they do with horses. Just wash our mouths out, but don’t let’s swallow any.”
As he spoke he went to the other side of the little rock pool, which was not above a foot deep and about four across, lying close up to the foot of one of the great rock walls which grew more frequent the higher they ascended. Then together they dipped a hand in the soft, cool, limpid fluid, and raised it to their lips.
“Poof!” ejaculated Ned, spluttering the water away. “Oh, what a shame! There ought to be a notice up—Beware of the water. Why, it’s like poison, sir. Ten times worse than that horrid stuff by the falls. Oh, come on. Only fancy for there to be water like that. Physic’s nothing to it.”
Jack’s disappointment was a little softened by his amusement, and they resumed their tramp, rising higher and higher as they kept up a diagonal course along the mountain slope; but the difficulties in the way, and the caution requisite in passing through what they felt to be a dangerous enemy’s land, made the progress slow, and after a time they seated themselves for a rest upon one of the many moss-grown masses of lava rock they passed, beneath an umbrageous tree, in which a flock of tiny finch-like birds were twittering, and once more looked around.
The prospect was not wide, for they were surrounded by trees, and it was only by keeping close to one or other of the many lava rivers, where the growth of the forest was scanty, that they were able to progress as they did.
“Nothing to eat, nothing to drink,” groaned Ned. “I say, Mr Jack, this is getting serious. What’s to be done?”
“Rest a bit, and then at the first opportunity, say as soon as we have passed over that knoll there, let’s begin to descend toward the shore. I hope we shall miss the blacks then.”
“And come across some one looking for us, sir, and carrying a basket. If it was only a bit of hard ship’s biscuit now, I wouldn’t care.”
“Hark! What’s that?”
“Cockatoo, sir,” whispered Ned. “I know their screech. I’ll go and try and get a shot at him.”
“Better sit still and rest, and chance the flock coming near. If you follow them they’ll hear you, and lead you farther and farther away.”
“Yes, I know that, sir, but I’m so hungry, and I’m afraid to begin chewing leaves for fear of poison. Hullo! Don’t move, sir. Hear that? You’re right, this is the best way and the easiest.”
“What shall we do, Ned, shoot, or try to get at them with the spears?”
“Let’s see ’em first, sir,” said Ned wisely, “and wait our chance, and then do both.”
The objects which had excited their attention by sundry familiar sounding grunts were not long in showing themselves in the shape of a little herd of pigs, three old ones and about a dozen half-grown; and as they came down a slope to their left, and began rooting about under the trees a couple of hundred yards away, Ned softly smacked his lips, looked at Jack, took out his brass matchbox, and said the expressive word “crackling.”
The formation of the mountain side was mostly that of shallow stony gullies opening one into the other, but all with the general tendency up and down, and it was on the slope of one of these that the fugitives were resting, while the herd had entered it from its highest part.
Ned’s fingers played tremblingly about the bow he held. Then he felt his arm, and a look of joy and pride came into his eyes.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I say, sir, wasn’t it a grand idea to leave some pigs here to breed? You stop quiet and wait your chance.”
“Why? What are you going to do?” whispered Jack.
“Creep round by the back of this tree, sir, and as they feed down I’ll go up the side, and by and by you’ll see me dodging softly along toward you over yonder beyond them. Then we shall have ’em between us, and if they take fright they must either go up or down, and pass one of us. It’s our chance, and we must not let it go. Look here, sir, you choose one of the little ones, and wait till you think you can hit him. Then hold up your hand and we’ll fire together. Then run at ’em with your spear. We must get one or else starve.”
It was the best way of approaching success, as Jack saw, and whispering that he would do as his companion suggested, he sat there watching Ned’s movements as he crept away up the slope and disappeared. Then fitting an arrow to the bowstring, after laying his spear ready by his side, he rested the bow across his knees, and sat on his mossy stone, watching the movements of the little herd, and expecting, moment by moment, to see one of the watchful elders take alarm, give warning, and the whole party dash back up the gully.
But they kept rooting and hunting about, evidently for some kind of fruit which fell from the trees, and Jack felt as if he were far back in the past, a hunter on that beautiful, wild mountain slope, dependent upon his bow for his existence. The sun poured down its hot rays, making the leaves glisten like metal, and the air was so clear that the pigs’ eyes and every movement were as plain as if close at hand.
“Seems treacherous lying in wait like this,” he thought. “Poor wretches! they all look as playful and contented as can be.”
But he knew that he and Ned must eat if they were ever to escape from that mountain, and the sentiment of pity died out as the time went on.
The pigs were slow in coming down, for under the trees at the other side of the gully the fruit they sought seemed to be plentiful, and he could see the younger ones hunting one another as a lucky find was made, this resulting in a good deal of squealing, while above it the deep grunts of the elders were plainly heard.
But there was no sight of Ned, and half-an-hour must have passed, with the pigs still out of reach for a good shot.
“If they do come this way,” thought the lad, “I can’t study about picking one; I must shoot into the thickest part and chance it. But where is Ned? Why don’t he show?”
At last there was the appearance far up of a large pig coming down toward the herd, but the next moment, as it glided among the leaves, Jack saw that it was a pig with clothes on, and that it carried a bow and arrow.
The time had come for a shot, and softly and slowly the lad edged himself back till he could drop on his knees behind the stone, rest the bow upon it horizontally, and wait for the critical moment to draw and launch his arrow.
He could watch Ned the while as well as the herd, and by slow degrees he saw his companion creep from tree-trunk to tree-trunk, slowly diminishing the distance, while, having probably cleared off the fallen fruit, the herd broke into a trot as if to pass within twenty yards of where he waited.
But the next minute they had stopped fifty yards away, and Ned had soon reduced his distance till he was about as much above them. Then all at once he disappeared.
The minutes seemed to be terribly long drawn out now, but the herd came lower and lower, till fully half of them were rambling about just in front; and feeling that he would never have a better chance, the lad singled out one half-grown fellow in the midst of three more, all feeding, and he held up his hand for a moment or two in the hope that Ned might see it, though where he hid it was impossible to say.
Slight as was the movement of the raised hand it was seen, for the biggest pig, a rough, bristly-necked animal, suddenly raised its head and gazed sharply, with eyes that looked fiery in the brilliant sunshine, straight in his direction.
Twang! twang! went two bowstrings, the arrows whizzed through the air, and in the midst of a rush, away tore the herd down the valley, just as Ned leaped up, made a bound or two, and plunged his spear down amidst the bushes.
Jack dropped his bow, caught up his own spear, and dashed forward to help finish the wounded pigs, and Ned was up before him, panting and dripping with perspiration.
“Got one?” cried Jack.
“Got one!” cried Ned bitterly. “Course we ain’t. Just like my luck.”
“Oh!” groaned Jack, as a pang of hunger shot through him.
“I never saw such arrows,” cried Ned passionately. “I could smash the lot. They don’t go straight.”
“Is it any use to follow them?” said Jack.
“No, sir; it ain’t,” cried the man angrily. “And what’s more, you know it ain’t. What’s the good of aggravating a poor fellow? And,” he added pathetically, “I did mean to have such a roast.”