Part 23 (1/2)
The spare supply of light we possessed, though, would be wanted after our sleep, and reluctantly I pressed down the wick; thinking as I did so what would be the use of the gold if I found it now and there should be no means of escape!
”What time would you like your shaving-water, Mas'r Harry?” said Tom, whose teeth chattered as he spoke.
”This is no time for laughing, Tom,” I said gloomily.
”I don't see as it's any time for crying, Mas'r Harry,” he replied, ”for I'm quite wet enough without that.”
Then he was silent, and we lay in that awful darkness, which in, spite of my efforts, I kept peopling with mult.i.tudinous horrors.
Then I seemed to lose consciousness; in spite of hard rock, cold, and damp, sleeping heavily, and dreaming now of Lilla, who seemed to be in some terrible peril from which I could not save her. I wanted to reach her, but something kept me away, while the danger she was in, as it floated before my distempered imagination, was somehow connected with Garcia, and Indians, and fire, or a mingling of all three. I felt ready to cry out as I struggled against the power that held me back; but at last I saw what it was that stayed me; it was the gold for which I had been seeking--piled-up, heavy ma.s.ses of gold--holding me down, crus.h.i.+ng me almost, while Lilla's sweet imploring face was turned to me as if asking my help. I strained, I longed to release myself, but in vain; and at last one great ponderous ma.s.s began to move towards me slowly, with a heavy, roaring noise, till it rested upon my chest, and with a start I woke to find one of Tom's arms thrown across my throat and him snoring loudly.
For a few minutes I lay aghast, unable to make out where I was; but by degrees recollection brought back all the horrors of our position, and with a sigh I managed to rid myself of Tom's arm.
I settled myself to try and sleep once more, so as to be ready for what would, I knew, prove an arduous, wearying task, tiring alike to body and spirit; when my blood seemed to be frozen in my veins, for there came a soft, fluttering noise, the air seemed to fan my cheeks as I lay, and then there echoed through the place three wild, appalling cries, followed by profound silence.
”Who's that a-calling? It won't do, Muster Garcia! You left her to drown, eh? What! Hilloa! Say, Mas'r Harry, was I dreaming or did you call?”
”I did not call, Tom,” I whispered; ”but there is some one in here besides us. Hark!”
Again, as I spoke, and heard plainly above the distant roar, three more cries came sweeping along, and once more there was silence.
”All right, Mas'r Harry,” said Tom; ”better chance for us to get out.
If some one else can come in that only shows that there's another way; and when it's time to get up, why, up we get, for I don't feel a bit disposed to try any more sleep here--it's too much like hard work!”
”I don't think the cries were human, Tom,” I said.
”Never mind that, Mas'r Harry, they weren't ghosts' cries. I'll bet that. Now, if my old mother was here she'd stick out as it was a spirit as couldn't--Oh, Mas'r Harry, though, what a horrid screech!” he whispered, as again a long-drawn, hollow, echoing cry ran through the pa.s.sages.
I do not think I'm more timid than most lads would have been at a time like this; but my hands trembled as I sought for the flint, steel, and tinder-box, anxious to be out of the darkness that hemmed us in on all sides, and it was not until I had tried for some time that I was able to ignite the tinder.
At last, though, the brimstone match was held down to the spot glowing beneath my breath, the blue flame was succeeded by that of the wooden splint, and once more our spirits rose as the feeble light of a candle was reflected from the rocky walls.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
THE AMPHITHEATRE.
We were half numbed with the cold, but I found now that, in spite of our troubled dreams and its apparent brevity, our sleep must have continued for a long time, for our clothes were nearly dry.
”Now, then, Mas'r Harry,” said Tom, ”never mind no shrieks and cries; let's eat what there is in that bag and drink what there is in that bottle, and then go on our voyage of discovery. It will give us strength for the job, besides being ever so much easier to carry. If anything queer comes near us we've got our pistols, so let them look out.”
In spite of the feeling of tremor caused by the mysterious cries I was eager enough to move, and we began to climb up once more through the crack, after stepping back to the vault, holding up our candles, and making sure that by no possibility we had overlooked the raft.
As to its floating away I felt that it would not go very far on reaching the end of the tunnel, there were too many obstacles in the way in the shape of great boulders to block up the stream; so that hope of relief was but faint there even if a search was commenced.
There was no raft in sight; nothing but the strange, troubled water, ever bubbling and leaping up; and with a shudder, as we thought of the struggle we had had, we turned away, but not without seeing that the sand strip was now about half bare.
It was no time for being nervous. We knew that to live we must find a means of exit while our candles lasted, so started once more to thread our way along through the rift and right on to the huge cavern where the cascade of water came thundering down.
Here we halted for a time to gain breath, and then set to work to thoroughly explore the place; so we pushed on nearer and nearer, to find that, as we expected, we could pa.s.s right round behind the waterfall, over the slippery, wet stones, worn into seams, as if at one time the stream had rushed down them; but no trace of rift or pa.s.sage could we find save one small crevice through which it seemed possible that a body might be squeezed.