CHAPTER VIIIBOTANIST AND MINERALOGIST
“Brother!”
“O, Carlota! Are you awake at last?”
“Was I asleep? I—I was out in the storm. We aren’t riding yet, are we? Why is it so dark? What does it mean?”
“It means that our splendid Benoni has saved our lives. Saved our very lives, Carlota Manuel! A horse! Benoni!”
The little girl struggled to raise herself. She was strangely cramped and numb but there was a warm breath upon her face and, putting out her hand, she touched a velvety nostril.
“Noni! You dear! But how funny! Seems as if we were all lying down together, Carlos.”
“Yes. When I waked I was right against his neck,” answered the boy, gently stroking her shoulder, which he could only feel, not see.
“Where are we? Is it night?”
“I don’t truly know, but I think we’re in a cave, or some place under ground. I’ve been awake a long, long time. I thought you—you were—”
“Were what, brother? Hold me tight. I feel so queer. My head is whirling round and round. What did you think?”
“That, maybe, you were dead. And your head doesn’t whirl. How could it. Now don’t cry. You mustn’t, Carlota. You—must—not!”
“I haven’t no intention, so there. Just because I did once. I—besides, I promised not, didn’t I?”
“Yes. You’re real good, little sister.”
“Oh! you dear! That makes me feel better—almost straight-headed again. For it did whirl, Carlos, or it felt so. I wish I did know where we are. Is it always dark in caves, brother? And do folks ever get out of them?”
“Course. It’s not very high, and Benoni must be the most smartest horse there is in the whole world,” he answered, with an affected courage.
“You didn’t say good grammar that time, yourself, Carlos.”
“Never mind. I think we’re in a cave or covered up canyon that Benoni knew about and had seen sometime when he was roaming. Anyway, it’s a place he wouldn’t have come into except he was in trouble. A ‘norther’ is trouble—dreadfullest kind. People and horses die in them, often. We must have gone to sleep on his back and he crept in here with us and laid us all down together. He knew that way we’d keep warm. We did. I’m warm as pepper; aren’t you?”
“I’m warm enough, but my clothes are all stiff, like they’d been wet, and I’m terr’ble hungry.”
“So am I.”
“Let’s try to get out and find something to eat. I had a few cakes in my box. Do you s’pose Noni rolled us off, or we rolled ourselves off his back?”
“I don’t know. But we didn’t die, so we can still go on to find our father—when we get out of here. Let’s go now.”
“Wait. We’ve got to give God thanks, first. ’Cause it was He who made Benoni, a horse, have sense to save us alive. Do you hear me, brother?”
He answered rather absently. He was as grateful as she but he had not only heard her—he had, also, heard something else: a dull, creeping sound from somewhere beyond them in this cavern. He hoped she had not noticed this and was glad when she stood up and stretched herself and, at the same time, stumbled against something which sharply rattled.
“Oh! my box! My precious old tin box! For true, for true!” she cried.
Already, they fancied they could see a little through this darkness and moved toward each other till their hands closed together upon the battered botany-box, which Carlota had always carried with her on her rambles a-field. In an instant she had opened it and joyfully exclaimed:
“The cakes! They are still in it! They are—they are!”
“Oh! Oh! Oh!”
For the moment, their terrible hunger made them almost like wild creatures. Almost, but not quite; for just then Benoni put out his nose and touched Carlota’s arm.
“Wait, brother. You must. It was Noniwho saved our lives and he’s hungry as we. He shall eat before I do!”
“Not before, Carlota! Oh! not before! I—can—not—wait!”
Indeed, the boy’s voice had changed. At the mere odor of food his misery overcame him, for he had been awake much longer than his sister had and was, by that time, much nearer starvation. He frightened her, yet with infinite tenderness she drew his head upon her shoulder and with her free hand began to feed him. Bit by bit, morsel by morsel—though, at first, he snapped his teeth so greedily he almost bit her fingers—she put thebollosinto his mouth, coaxing, the while:
“Eat it slowly, brother. Make it last a long, long time, same as when we have Christmas sweeties. Now, wait a moment, and I’ll give one to Benoni.”
“Not yet, Carlota! I’m first—another—just another!”
He did not know how few were the cakes she had put into the box when they left the schoolroom and supposed there were plenty for all. She ignored her own hunger and managed to keep back two for Benoni and was even able tosmile over the greater carefulness in receiving them from her hand the animal showed than the boy had done.
“Look, Carlos. Benoni takes his cakes like a gentleman. He has—hasn’t bited—bitten—me once. He’s nicer mannered than you, I guess; yet, you poor dear, you never had to eat your dinner in a cave before, did you?”
“Another, sister?”
“Oh! dear! It’s too bad, but there isn’t not another single one. Not even the least bit of a crumb for I’ve felt all around the inside of the box to see. Never mind, when we get out we’ll find something more.”
The famished boy smacked his lips and asked:
“Weren’t those the very nicestbollosMarta ever made?”
“I guess so,” answered she with a little gasp; then hurried to add, lest she should betray that she had not tasted one; “Benoni thought so, too. There. He’s getting on his feet. Take care, good beastie! Don’t you step on Carlota!”
There was little danger of this, for he could see much better than they and he, evidently, felt it time to leave this prison house. Hewhinnied, shook himself, cautiously turned around, and began to pick his way past them. Afraid that he would leave them, the little girl begged:
“Don’t go without us, Noni! Wait! You mustn’t be faster than we. Hurry, brother! I’ll take hold of his tail, and you take hold of me, and he’ll lead us out that way. Come.”
“We mustn’t leave our things here. There’s the box. Maybe, after all, there is another cake left in it that you didn’t find. Besides our blankets and hats, if we didn’t lose them.”
“You must be quick then. He will go. He is determined. I’ll hold him back all I can, but—”
Then again sounded that strange creeping, and even Carlota heard it. So did Benoni. For he made a sudden movement forward, scraping his back as he did so, and began to climb the slope down which he had carried them to safety.
“That’s a funny noise! Guess there must be bats in here. Anyway it surely is growing lighter. Ouch! I keep stubbing my toes on sharp pointed stones or heaps of stuff. It looksas if it were all a white place. Maybe, it’s been whitewashed, same as Marta’s kitchen.”
At that, Carlos made his sister pause. From what he had been taught by his father he guessed what the “whiteness” meant:
“Oh! Carlota, we’ve stumbled into the beautifullest cave! It is! I believe it! These sharp points are stal-ag-mites. High up must be the other things—stal-ac-tites! Father said he’d take me sometime to a cave almost as wonderful as that Mammoth one in Kentucky, and I do believe we’re in it now! Oh! how glad I am the ‘norther’ sent us to it!”
“I don’t understand such big words.”
“They’re no bigger than the ones you talk about your old flowers.”
“My father says that real bo-tan-i-cal names are just the same all over the world. It’s best to learn them right in the first place, cause then you don’t have to unlearn them afterward.”
“It’s just the same about stones. I couldn’t explain to you, Carlota, since you’re only a girl; but knowing about stones helps about mines. If our father wasn’t a ge-ol-o-gist and a min-er-al-o-gist, the rich men away off wouldn’t hirehim, as they do, to ‘prospect’ and explore their mountains.”
“Flowers help, too. Course. It’s this way, Carlos. Try to understand. Funny! A boy who knows most every rock there is doesn’t know a dozen blossoms. Plants ‘talk,’ my father says, to people who have learned their ‘language.’ The sort of plants they are shows what’s in the soil they live on. All plants cannot live on one soil. I—”
“Pooh! That’s a mistake, I guess. What about our mother’s garden? Any flower—”
Benoni ended their discussion by going forward again, after his brief rest. As they progressed the light strengthened and they stumbled less; and in the relief of this, Carlos began to sing. But his song was interrupted by a cry which set them trembling in terror.
“Ah, ho! Ah, ha, ho!”
The shout came from behind them, and its echo through that ghostly place was very terrifying.