Part 19 (1/2)

He burst out laughing. ”Indeed, indeed! there is no wonder I laugh,” he said; ”fancy the notion of taking a 'good-w.i.l.l.y waught' in a place like this! And now,” he added, ”for a bit of a sketch.”

”Don't be long in nibbing it in, then.”

Rory was seated on a boulder now, tracing on his page the outlines of those strange, weird pillars that hands of man had never raised nor human eyes gazed upon before. So the silence once more became irksome, and the time seemed long to Ralph, but Rory had finished at last.

Then the two companions, after journeying on somewhat farther, began to awaken the echoes by various shouts; and voices, some coming from a long distance, repeated clearly the last words.

”Let us frighten those ghouls down there by rolling down boulders,” said Rory.

”Come on, then,” said Ralph; ”I've often played at that game.”

They had ten minutes of this work. It was evident this hill within a hill, this crater's point, was of depth illimitable from the distant hissing noises which the broken boulders finally emitted.

”It's a regular whispering gallery,” said Rory.

”It is, Row. But do let us get back. See, there is already barely light enough to reveal our footsteps.”

”Ah! but, my boy,” said Rory, ”the nearer the car we walk the more light we'll have. And I have just one more surprise for you. You see this little bag?”

”Yes. What is in it--sandwiches?”

”Nay, my Saxon friend! but Bengal fires. Now witness the effects of the grand illumination of the Cave of the King of Ice by us, his two ghouls of a thousand winters!”

The scene, under weird blue lights, pale green or crimson, was really magical. All the transformation scenes ever they had witnessed dwindled into insignificance compared to it.

”I shall remember this to my dying day?” Rory exclaimed.

”And I too!” cried Ralph, entranced.

”Now the finale?” said the artist; ”it'll beat all the others! This white light of mine will eclipse the glory of the rest as the morning sun does that of moonlight! It will burn quite a long time, too; I made it last night on purpose.”

It was a Bengal fire of dazzling splendour that now was lit, and our heroes themselves were astonished.

”It beats the 'Arabian Nights'!” cried Rory. ”Look, look!” he continued, waving it gently to and fro, ”the stalact.i.tes seem to dance and move towards us from out the gloom arrayed in robes of transplendent white. Yonder comes the King of Ice himself to bid us welcome.”

”Put it out! put it out!” murmured Ralph, with his hand on his brow.

It presently burned out, but lo! the change!--total darkness!

_Rory and Ralph were s...o...b..ind_!

”Oh, boy Rory!” said Ralph, ”that brilliant of yours has sealed our fate. It will be hours ere our eyes can be restored, and long before then the darkness of night will have enshrouded us. We are lost!”

”Let us not lose each other, at all events,” said Rory, feeling for his friend's arm, and linking it in his own.

”You think we are lost; dear Ralph, I have more hopes. Something within me tells me that we were never meant to end our days in the awful darkness of this terrible cavern. Pa.s.s the night here it is certain we must, but to-morrow will bring daylight, and daylight safety, for be a.s.sured Allan and De Vere will not leave us, unless--”

Here the hope-giver paused.

”Unless,” added Ralph--”for I know what you would say--an accident should be imminent--unless they _must_ leave. A balloon needs strange management.”