Part 78 (1/2)
Gwyn could think no more in that way, for the horror that attacked him at the thought that it meant they must all soon die. Once the idea came to him that he was watching his companions struggling vainly in the black water; but, making a desperate effort, he forced himself to think only of the task they had in hand, and just then he shouted to Joe to turn off to the left, for another opening appeared, and the lad was going past it with his head bent down.
Joe turned off mechanically, his long, lank figure looking strange in the extreme; and as he swung the lanthorns in each hand, grotesque shadows of his tall body were thrown on the wall on either side, and sometimes over the gleaming water which rushed by them, swift in places as a mill-race.
And still the water grew deeper, and no more arrows pointed faintly from the wall. The water was more than waist-deep now, and the chill feeling of despair was growing rapidly upon all. The lads did not speak, though they felt their position keenly enough, but Hardock uttered a groan from time to time, and at last stopped short.
”Don't do that,” cried Gwyn, flas.h.i.+ng into anger for a moment; but the man's piteous reply disarmed him, and he felt as despairing.
”Must, sir--I must,” groaned the man; ”I can't do any more. You've been very kind to me, Master Gwyn, and I'd like to shake hands with you first, and say good-bye. There--there's nothing for it but to give up, and let the water carry you away, as it keeps trying to do. We've done all that man can do; there's no hope of getting out of the mine, so let's get out of our misery at once.”
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.
IN DIRE PERIL.
For a few moments, in his misery and despair, Gwyn felt disposed to succ.u.mb, and he looked piteously at Joe, who stood drooping and bent, with the bottoms of the lanthorns touching the water. Then the natural spirit that was in him came to the front, and with an angry shout he cried,--
”Here, you, sir, keep those lights up out of the water. Don't want us to be in the dark, do you?”
There is so much influence in one person's vitality, and the way in which an order is given, that Joe started as if he had had an electric current pa.s.sed through him. He stood as straight up as he could for the roof, and looked sharply at Gwyn, as if for orders.
At the same time the dog began to bark, and struggled to get free.
”Oh, very well,” said Gwyn, letting go of the dog's legs; ”but you'll soon want to get back.”
Down went Grip with a tremendous splash, and disappeared; but he rose again directly, and began to swim away with the stream and was soon out of sight.
”Oh, Joe, Joe, what have I done!” cried Gwyn. ”He'll be drowned--he'll be drowned!”
”Ay, sir, and so shall we before an hour's gone by,” said Hardock, gloomily.
”I can't help it--I must save him,” cried Gwyn; and s.n.a.t.c.hing one of the lanthorns from Joe, he waded off after the swimming dog.
”We can't stop here by ourselves, Sam,” cried Joe. ”Come along.”
Hardock uttered a groan.
”I don't want to die, Master Joe Jollivet--I don't want to die,” he said pitifully.
”Well, who does?” cried Joe, angrily. ”What's my father going to do without me when he's ill. Come on. They'll be finding the way out, and leaving us here.”
”Nay, Master Gwyn wouldn't do that,” groaned Hardock. ”He'd come back for us.”
Gwyn's pursuit of the dog had done one thing; it had started his companions into action, and they, too, waded with the stream pressing them along, till away in the distance they caught sight of the light Gwyn bore, s.h.i.+ning like a faint spark in the darkness or reflected in a pale s.h.i.+mmering ray from the hurrying water.
For how long they neither of them knew, they followed on till Gwyn's light became stationary; and just then Hardock raised his, and uttered an exclamation.
”I know where we are now,” he cried, as he raised his lanthorn and pointed to one of his white arrows. ”It looks different with the place half full of water, but we're close to that dead end that runs up.”
Just then they heard the barking of the dog.