Part 80 (1/2)
”Because you've got to help us out of this place?”
”I? Help you?”
”Yes; it's your duty. You've no right to lie like that, giving up everything.”
”I'm so weak and sleepy,” protested the man.
”So was I, but I fought it all down. Now then, climb up to where he is.”
”I--I can't, Mr Gwyn; and, besides, it's too narrow for me.”
”How do you know till you try? Come: up with you at once.”
”Must I, Mr Gwyn, sir?”
”Yes, of course; so get up and try.”
Sam Hardock groaned, and began to creep slowly up the steep slope, Gwyn leading the way; but at the end of a minute the man subsided.
”It's of no use, sir; I can't do it. I haven't the strength of a rat.”
”Keep on; it will come,” cried Gwyn. ”Keep on, sir, and try. You must get to the top, where Joe Jollivet is.”
”No, no; let me die in quiet.”
”Very well; when I have got you into a good dry place. You can't die in peace with the cold black water creeping over you.”
”N-no,” said Hardock, with a s.h.i.+ver.
”Come on, then, at once,” cried Gwyn; and, unable to resist the imperious way in which he was ordered, the poor fellow began to struggle up the narrow rift, while Gwyn, keeping his fears to himself, trembled lest the place should prove too strait.
Twice over Hardock came to a stand; but at a word from Gwyn he made fresh efforts, the way in which the lad showed him the road encouraging him somewhat; till at last, panting and exhausted, he dragged himself beyond the last angle, and rolled over upon the stony slope where Joe had been holding his lanthorn over the dark pa.s.sage, and looking down.
”We can go no farther till he's rested,” whispered Gwyn.
”No; but look how the water's rising. How long will it be before it reaches up to here?”
Gwyn shook his head, and listened to the murmur of the rising flood, which sounded soft and distant; but the rush of wind grew louder, sweeping up the cavity with the loud whistling sound of a tempest.
Gwyn rose to his knees, trimmed his light, and said less breathlessly now,--
”Let Sam rest a bit, while we try and find how Grip went.”
And he held up the light and shaded his eyes.
There was no need of a painted white arrow to point the way, for the whistling wind could be felt now by extending a hand from where they lay in shelter; and as soon as Gwyn began to creep on all-fours towards the upper portion of the sloping cavity in which they lay, the fierce current of air pressed against him as the water had when he was wading a short time before.
”Better keep the lanthorn back in shelter,” said Gwyn, hastily; ”it makes mine gutter down terribly.”
He handed Joe the ring, and once more went on to find the wide opening they had reached rapidly contract till once more it resembled the jagged pa.s.sage through which they had forced themselves.