Chapter Thirty Two.A Suspicion of Baboons.A few nights later Mark, who had just finished his portion of the nightly watch, called up Dan and made his report that all had gone well till about an hour before, when he fancied he had seen something creeping along through the bushes just beyond the camp.“Jackal,” said Dan.“No; it seemed too big.”“Well, didn’t the horses seem uneasy.”“No.”“Fancy, perhaps.”“Well, it may have been, and I half thought so then, else I should have roused someone up.”“Which way did it go, sir?”“Right into the middle of the temple square.”“Well, it wouldn’t have been a black, because if it had been one of them he would have made for the open.”“The doctor said that most likely there would be blacks about.”“Well, but,” said Dan, “no one has seen a sign of anyone but our chaps.”“That’s true,” replied Mark, “but there must be tribes about here, and they’d see us before we saw them.”“Yes, sir; that’s pretty sure, and it might be one of them come in the dark scouting to see what we are like, and how many there are of us.”“That doesn’t sound pleasant, Dan. We don’t want any company of that sort.”“No, sir. But look here; I think I have got it. Are you sure it wasn’t a leopard?”“I can’t be sure, because it is too dark to see spots.”“Well, was it a human, sir?”“I don’t think so, because it was going on all fours.”“Oh, well, sir, the niggers are clever enough in that way. Both Mak and the little chap can run along like dogs and jump over a tree trunk or a big stone. It is wonderful what strength some of these half savage chaps have in their arms. Being a sailor and doing a great deal going up aloft has made me pretty clever hanging by one’s hands or holding on by one’s eyelids, as we say, at sea, while we furl a sail; but I am nowhere alongside of our Mak.”“But you as good as said you had an idea, Dan.”“Well, I have, sir, and I got it only the other day when I was down yonder right away towards the end of the ruins, seeing how far I could go without getting lost. I’d quite forgot all about it till you began to talk. I caught sight of something—just a peep of it as it looked up at me and then ran in amongst the rocks and bushes. I hadn’t got a gun with me, and perhaps I had no business to be loafing about.”“Oh, never mind that,” said Mark. “What was it you saw?”“Well, it was something like a good big dog, but I had no chance of seeing it well; and I was just going to turn back when there it was again, or another like it, squatting on a stone at the end of one of them big walls; and when it saw I was watching, it was out of sight directly.”“Well, that doesn’t help us much,” said Mark impatiently.“Don’t it, sir? I thought it did, for it seems to me that it was what you saw to-night.”“Maybe,” said Mark; “but what was it?”“Well, I will tell you, sir. It was one of them big monkeys as Buck Denham talks about.”“I never knew him talk about any.”“Oh, he has to me, sir. He has seen them over and over again when he has been out with hunting gentlemen. He says they are as big as a good-sized dog, and a bit like one about the head. But they’ve got next to no tail. Go in packs, they do, like dogs, and make a sort of a barking noise. Pretty fierce too, he says they are, and bite like all that. Don’t you think it might be one of them? Buck says they live in the kopjes.”“But would one be likely to be about here in the dark?”“There’s no knowing, sir—hanging round our kraal to see if it could pick up a bit of anything to eat. But there, I’ll keep a sharp look out, and if I see anything worth while I’ll fire.”“Do,” said Mark. “Good-night.”“Good-night, sir.”Mark went to his blanket, and forgot all about the incident till after breakfast when he met his relief, who signed to him to follow into the clearing they had made by cutting down and burning the bushes.“What is it, Dan?”“Only this, sir. Remember what you saw last night?”“Yes,” cried Mark eagerly. “Did you see it too?”“Well, I’m not sure, sir; only think I did.”“Think?”“Well, you see, sir, what you said seemed to make me expect that I should see something. I could not be sure.”“Well, we had better tell my father and the doctor, and let’s do it now.”Mark led the way straight to where the above were busily talking together and just about to start for a further exploration of the gigantic walls whose ruins cropped up in all directions; and after the matter had been discussed it was decided that though there was a doubt as to whether it was not all imagination, it would be wise to try to keep up a stricter watch by night.“You see,” said Dan, as Sir James and the doctor resumed their search, “it’s like this, sir. It might be some animile or one of them doggy monkey things come stealing about in the night, or even one of the niggers come to see if he could pinch something good out of the stores.”“That’s hardly likely,” said Mark.But a morning or two later Mark went up to his father and startled him with a question:“Have you taken my rifle away, father?”“Your rifle? No! Why?”“It isn’t hanging on the pegs with the others.”“Nonsense! Perhaps you did not look in the right place. Let’s see.”Sir James led the way to where a number of pegs had been driven into the old wall beneath the canvas roof.“They are not all there, certainly,” he said. “Perhaps the doctor has taken yours by mistake.”“No; he has got his own.”“Mark, my boy, I’m afraid you have had it out somewhere and left it standing up against a rock or tree—forgotten it.”“Oh, father,” cried the boy excitedly, “I am sure I haven’t! I had it last night, cleaned it and oiled it carefully, and then put it back in its place.”“Are you sure? Last night?”“Yes, father, certain. Here, I will call Dean.”The latter came trotting up in answer to his cousin’s whistle, heard what was wrong, and corroborated Mark’s words.“But are you sure it was last night?”“Yes, uncle, certain. I did mine at the same time. You must have had it out, Mark. It can’t be lost.”“I haven’t had it out,” cried the boy angrily. “I had breakfast, then went and had a talk with Dan, and then went to get the rifle, and it was gone.”“Well, let the matter drop for a time,” said Sir James quietly.“Is anything wrong?” said the doctor coming up.“Yes, my rifle’s gone;” and after hearing what each had to say the doctor turned to Mark.“You feel sure about it now, my boy, but we all have such fits as that sometimes; then all at once the fact dawns upon us that we have put away the missing article to be safe, or for some other reason, and then we wonder how we could possibly have forgotten it.”Mark nodded his head, looked at his cousin, and they went off together.“Yes, the doctor’s right,” said Dean, as soon as they were out of hearing. “You will remember it all by-and-by.”“That I shan’t,” was the angry retort. “I feel as sure as can be that it has been stolen. Oh, here’s Dan.”They came in sight of that sturdy little individual, in company with Buck.“Here, Dan,” cried Mark, “you know when I was talking with you a little while ago?”“Yes, sir, of course.”“Had I got my rifle with me?”“No, sir. A’n’t lost it, have you, sir?”“Yes, it’s gone. You can’t help me, can you, Buck?”“No, sir.—Here, stop a minute.”“Ah! Now it’s coming,” cried Dean, laughing. “I told you so.”“You told me!” cried his cousin scornfully. “You only said what father and the doctor had told me before. Now, Buck, what were you going to say? When did you see it last?”“Well, I saw it with you last, sir, when you relieved me on sentry.”“That’s two or three nights ago,” said Mark impatiently.“Yes, sir; that must have been last Tuesday, and since then when you was on duty old Dan relieved you.”“Oh, don’t go on prosing about that,” cried Mark angrily. “I know as well as you can tell me. I want to find my gun.”“Well, sir, that’s what I was going to tell you of, only you pretty well jumped down my throat.”“Well, tell me, then, and put me out of my misery. Where is it?”“Oh, I don’t know, sir.”“Then why did you begin talking as if you did?”“Oh, come, Mr Mark, sir, don’t get in a huff with a poor fellow. I warn’t a-goin’ to tell you where it was; I was a-goin’ to tell you where it warn’t.”“Oh,” cried Mark, stamping his foot, “isn’t it enough to aggravate a saint? These two are just alike, going on telling you a thing over and over again, especially if it is something you don’t want to know. Look here, Buck; I have lost my gun.”“Yes, sir; you said so afore.”“And I know as well as you do where it is not.”“Exactly so, sir. You mean, in the arms rack as we made by driving them hard pegs into the courses of the wall.”“Yes,” said Mark. “Well?”“Well, sir, I was going to tell you—”“What were you going to tell me?” raged out Mark.“That when I went there this morning to get the ile bottle—”“Yes, yes?” cried Mark.“I run my eyes over the guns, and it struck me like as there was one short.”“The third one?” cried Mark eagerly.“Yes, sir; that’s right.”“Well, of course that was mine. Well, where is it?”Buck took off his cap, scratched his head, and looked hard at Dean.“Well, you needn’t look at me,” said the boy. “I haven’t got it.”“No, sir, I can see that,” said Buck, and he stared hard and questioningly at Dan, who looked back resentfully.“Here, don’t stare at me, messmate,” cried the little sailor. “Think I’ve got it up my sleeve, or down one of the legs of my trowzes?”“No, mate; you are such a little ’un that there wouldn’t be room,” said Buck thoughtfully.“Right you are, mate; but you see I may grow a bit yet.”“Yes,” said Buck, very slowly and thoughtfully, “and pigs may fly.”“Hullo!” cried Dan. “Pigs—pig—arn’t likely, is it, as that little chap has took a fancy to it and sneaked it?”“No,” cried Mark indignantly. “The little fellow’s as honest as the day.”“Yes, sir,” said Buck dreamily, “but blacks is blacks, and whites is whites, and temptation sore long time he bore, till at last he may have given way.”“Oh, bosh!” cried Dean.“No, sir,” said Buck; “don’t you say that. I’ve see’d that often, that little bow and arrow and spear chap looking longingly at that gun and kinder sorter was hupping of it as if it was a hidol as he’d give anything to grab.”“I don’t believe he would,” cried Mark. “If either of those two blacks would take anything, it would be far more likely to be Mak.”“Yes,” said Dean, “but I wouldn’t believe it of him. Why, we know for a fact that these blacks, who are something of the same breed, are awful thieves. But no; poor old. Mak is a very brave fellow, and now that he’s beginning to talk a bit more English I’m sure he wouldn’t rob us of a thing.”“Well, I don’t know, Mr Dean, sir,” put in Dan. “I wouldn’t take upon me to say as he’d pinch a rifle, but it arn’t safe to leave him anywhere near cold bones.”“Oh, food,” said Mark; “that’s nothing for a savage. But you have never known him dishonest over that.”“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say dishonest, sir,” said Dan, “but if you left a bit of one of them little stag things that we shoot and have after dinner cold for supper, he’d go and look for it again hung up in that pantry. It takes a lot of looking for; and then you don’t find it, do you, mate?”“No,” said Buck, rather gruffly; “I do say that, mate. We have been disappinted three or four times and had to be contented with flapjack. He have got a twist, and no mistake. I have known him eat as much as me and Dan Mann put together, and then look hungry; but I suppose it is his natur’ to. You don’t think, then, gents, as it’s likely that he’s nobbled your rifle?”“Well, I don’t know,” said Mark. “I hope not.”“So do I, sir,” said Dan dreamily. “You see, it makes one feel uncomfortable about his ’bacco box and his knife. But oh, no, sir, I hope not,” continued the sailor slowly. “It’s true he’s a bit too full of that jibber jabber of his as you calls language, but he’s getting to talk English now, and since he’s been what Mr Dean there calls more civilised I’ve begun to take to him a bit more as a mate. Oh, no, sir, he wouldn’t collar your rifle; an’ then as to his sneaking a bit of wittles sometimes, it arn’t honest, I know, but he wouldn’t take your gun, sir. Why, I put it to you; what good would it be to he? He could not eat that.”“No,” said Dean, “but I have heard of savages getting hold of anything in the shape of a tube to turn into a pipe for smoking.”“Do they now, sir?” said Buck thoughtfully. “But of course he wouldn’t want the stock, and it’s a double gun. That’d be rather a ’spensive pipe, Dan, mate, for he’d have to have two bowls.”“Couldn’t he stop up one barrel?”“Here, I wish you two fellows would leave off chattering,” cried Mark.“Beg pardon, sir,” said Buck, rather indignantly. “But it was Mr Dean who started that idea about the pipe.”“Oh, bother! Never mind; I want my rifle.”“That’s right, sir; of course you do.”“And I am going to have it found.”“That’s right, sir, too. Well, I hope you are satisfied, sir, that it was neither me nor Dan here as took it?”“Of course I am.”“Then what about old Brown?”“Oh, no!” cried the boys, in a breath.“Look here, sir,” said Buck, drawing himself up to his full height and seeming to swell out with some big idea; “it couldn’t have been neither Peter Dance nor Bob Bacon, ’cause they have got guns to use, and they both tells us lots of times that a gun has been a sort of plaything to them ever since they was babbies.”“Of course,” said Mark huffily. “There you go, again, telling us what we know.”Buck hit himself a sharp slap in the mouth as much as much as to say, “I’ve done”; and the little sailor grinned and said, “And then about old Mak and little Pig: you can’t sarch them, because there’s nothing to sarch.”“Ah!” cried Mark. “I had forgotten all about that. I know now.”“Hooroar!” said Dan. “He knows now! Found out where you have put it, sir?”“No, Dan. What about that dark thing that we saw crawling through the clearing the other night, and which neither of us was sure about?”The little sailor answered by bending his knees and then bringing his right hand down with a tremendous slap upon his right thigh.“That’s it, sir. You’ve got it. Nigger crawling up from outside come pickling and stealing. See that, messmate?”“What d’you mean?”“Well,” said Dan, “it must have been some black beggar from outside come creeping up at night to see what he could smug.”“Yes, Dan,” cried Mark, eagerly.“Well, I’m blessed!” cried Buck. “And—and—and—” He looked first at one lad and then at the other, as he rummaged first with one hand and then with the other in his pockets, and then with both together, before turning savagely upon Dan and roaring out, “Here, who’s got my knife?”“Well, not me, messmate. Here’s mine;” and laying hold of the short lanyard about his neck he hauled out his big jack knife from inside the band of his trousers. “You don’t call that yourn, do you?”“Na-ay!” growled Buck. “Wouldn’t own a thing like that. Mine was made of the best bit of stuff that ever came out of Sheffield.”“Only a Brummagem handle, though,” said Dan.“Never mind about the handle,” growled Buck. “I wouldn’t have lost that knife for anything—almost as soon lost my head. You know what a good one it was, Mr Mark, sir. Why, you might have shaved yourself with it, sir, if you had waited till you was grown up.”“Here, none of your chaff, Buck. You can’t joke easily. I know I have got no beard, but when it does come I hope it won’t come carroty like somebody’s.”“Carroty, sir? Not it! Last time I see my mother it had growed while I had been away three years, and she said it made her feel proud, for it was real hauburn.”“Well, never mind about your beard, messmate,” said Dan, in a deep, gruff voice. “Do you feel sure as you have lost the knife?”“I feel sure that it’s gone in the night, along of Mr Mark’s rifle.”“What, out hunting together?” said Mark, laughing.“Well, good companions,” said Dean. “One shoots the game, and the other skins and cuts it up.”“I don’t quite see what you mean, gentlemen,” said Dan; “but it seems to me, Mr Mark, that you and me see the beggar that comes hanging about and that sneaked your gun and his knife.”“Yes,” said Mark, “that’s it; and I feel sure that if we come to look about we shall find lots of other things are gone.”“Yes, sir,” said Dan, “no doubt about it, and we have got the right pig by the ear, Mr Mark. I don’t mean our little Pig, but you know what I do mean; and now, I don’t like to take too much upon myself, sir.”“Take an inch, Dan; take an ell. You being a sailor, take as many fathoms as you like, only find my gun.”“That’s just what I’m going to try and do, sir, and old Buck’s knife too, if I can; so if you will allow me, gentlemen, I’ll just make a propogishum.”“Go ahead then, and be smart, before old Brown gets here. Yonder he comes.”“Well, it’s just this way, gentlemen. I say, let’s get our two niggers here, and don’t let them think for a moment as we ’spects them, but drum it into their heads somehow as something’s missing. Teach ’em same as you would a dog, and show them a rifle and a knife, and tell them to seek. I don’t quite know how you are going to make them understand as it’s a black who crawled up in the night, but I daresay you two clever gents will manage that.”“And what then?” cried the two boys, in a breath.“What then, sir? Strikes me as them two, the little ’un and the big ’un, will turn theirselves into traps, and we shall wake up some morning to find that they have got the thief as they caught in the night.”“Well done, mate! I didn’t think you had got it in you,” growled Buck.“Bravo!” cried the boys together. “Splendid!”“Now then,” said Mark, “the next thing will be to take the two blacks into our confidence. Hold hard; there’s Brown.”
A few nights later Mark, who had just finished his portion of the nightly watch, called up Dan and made his report that all had gone well till about an hour before, when he fancied he had seen something creeping along through the bushes just beyond the camp.
“Jackal,” said Dan.
“No; it seemed too big.”
“Well, didn’t the horses seem uneasy.”
“No.”
“Fancy, perhaps.”
“Well, it may have been, and I half thought so then, else I should have roused someone up.”
“Which way did it go, sir?”
“Right into the middle of the temple square.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been a black, because if it had been one of them he would have made for the open.”
“The doctor said that most likely there would be blacks about.”
“Well, but,” said Dan, “no one has seen a sign of anyone but our chaps.”
“That’s true,” replied Mark, “but there must be tribes about here, and they’d see us before we saw them.”
“Yes, sir; that’s pretty sure, and it might be one of them come in the dark scouting to see what we are like, and how many there are of us.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant, Dan. We don’t want any company of that sort.”
“No, sir. But look here; I think I have got it. Are you sure it wasn’t a leopard?”
“I can’t be sure, because it is too dark to see spots.”
“Well, was it a human, sir?”
“I don’t think so, because it was going on all fours.”
“Oh, well, sir, the niggers are clever enough in that way. Both Mak and the little chap can run along like dogs and jump over a tree trunk or a big stone. It is wonderful what strength some of these half savage chaps have in their arms. Being a sailor and doing a great deal going up aloft has made me pretty clever hanging by one’s hands or holding on by one’s eyelids, as we say, at sea, while we furl a sail; but I am nowhere alongside of our Mak.”
“But you as good as said you had an idea, Dan.”
“Well, I have, sir, and I got it only the other day when I was down yonder right away towards the end of the ruins, seeing how far I could go without getting lost. I’d quite forgot all about it till you began to talk. I caught sight of something—just a peep of it as it looked up at me and then ran in amongst the rocks and bushes. I hadn’t got a gun with me, and perhaps I had no business to be loafing about.”
“Oh, never mind that,” said Mark. “What was it you saw?”
“Well, it was something like a good big dog, but I had no chance of seeing it well; and I was just going to turn back when there it was again, or another like it, squatting on a stone at the end of one of them big walls; and when it saw I was watching, it was out of sight directly.”
“Well, that doesn’t help us much,” said Mark impatiently.
“Don’t it, sir? I thought it did, for it seems to me that it was what you saw to-night.”
“Maybe,” said Mark; “but what was it?”
“Well, I will tell you, sir. It was one of them big monkeys as Buck Denham talks about.”
“I never knew him talk about any.”
“Oh, he has to me, sir. He has seen them over and over again when he has been out with hunting gentlemen. He says they are as big as a good-sized dog, and a bit like one about the head. But they’ve got next to no tail. Go in packs, they do, like dogs, and make a sort of a barking noise. Pretty fierce too, he says they are, and bite like all that. Don’t you think it might be one of them? Buck says they live in the kopjes.”
“But would one be likely to be about here in the dark?”
“There’s no knowing, sir—hanging round our kraal to see if it could pick up a bit of anything to eat. But there, I’ll keep a sharp look out, and if I see anything worth while I’ll fire.”
“Do,” said Mark. “Good-night.”
“Good-night, sir.”
Mark went to his blanket, and forgot all about the incident till after breakfast when he met his relief, who signed to him to follow into the clearing they had made by cutting down and burning the bushes.
“What is it, Dan?”
“Only this, sir. Remember what you saw last night?”
“Yes,” cried Mark eagerly. “Did you see it too?”
“Well, I’m not sure, sir; only think I did.”
“Think?”
“Well, you see, sir, what you said seemed to make me expect that I should see something. I could not be sure.”
“Well, we had better tell my father and the doctor, and let’s do it now.”
Mark led the way straight to where the above were busily talking together and just about to start for a further exploration of the gigantic walls whose ruins cropped up in all directions; and after the matter had been discussed it was decided that though there was a doubt as to whether it was not all imagination, it would be wise to try to keep up a stricter watch by night.
“You see,” said Dan, as Sir James and the doctor resumed their search, “it’s like this, sir. It might be some animile or one of them doggy monkey things come stealing about in the night, or even one of the niggers come to see if he could pinch something good out of the stores.”
“That’s hardly likely,” said Mark.
But a morning or two later Mark went up to his father and startled him with a question:
“Have you taken my rifle away, father?”
“Your rifle? No! Why?”
“It isn’t hanging on the pegs with the others.”
“Nonsense! Perhaps you did not look in the right place. Let’s see.”
Sir James led the way to where a number of pegs had been driven into the old wall beneath the canvas roof.
“They are not all there, certainly,” he said. “Perhaps the doctor has taken yours by mistake.”
“No; he has got his own.”
“Mark, my boy, I’m afraid you have had it out somewhere and left it standing up against a rock or tree—forgotten it.”
“Oh, father,” cried the boy excitedly, “I am sure I haven’t! I had it last night, cleaned it and oiled it carefully, and then put it back in its place.”
“Are you sure? Last night?”
“Yes, father, certain. Here, I will call Dean.”
The latter came trotting up in answer to his cousin’s whistle, heard what was wrong, and corroborated Mark’s words.
“But are you sure it was last night?”
“Yes, uncle, certain. I did mine at the same time. You must have had it out, Mark. It can’t be lost.”
“I haven’t had it out,” cried the boy angrily. “I had breakfast, then went and had a talk with Dan, and then went to get the rifle, and it was gone.”
“Well, let the matter drop for a time,” said Sir James quietly.
“Is anything wrong?” said the doctor coming up.
“Yes, my rifle’s gone;” and after hearing what each had to say the doctor turned to Mark.
“You feel sure about it now, my boy, but we all have such fits as that sometimes; then all at once the fact dawns upon us that we have put away the missing article to be safe, or for some other reason, and then we wonder how we could possibly have forgotten it.”
Mark nodded his head, looked at his cousin, and they went off together.
“Yes, the doctor’s right,” said Dean, as soon as they were out of hearing. “You will remember it all by-and-by.”
“That I shan’t,” was the angry retort. “I feel as sure as can be that it has been stolen. Oh, here’s Dan.”
They came in sight of that sturdy little individual, in company with Buck.
“Here, Dan,” cried Mark, “you know when I was talking with you a little while ago?”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
“Had I got my rifle with me?”
“No, sir. A’n’t lost it, have you, sir?”
“Yes, it’s gone. You can’t help me, can you, Buck?”
“No, sir.—Here, stop a minute.”
“Ah! Now it’s coming,” cried Dean, laughing. “I told you so.”
“You told me!” cried his cousin scornfully. “You only said what father and the doctor had told me before. Now, Buck, what were you going to say? When did you see it last?”
“Well, I saw it with you last, sir, when you relieved me on sentry.”
“That’s two or three nights ago,” said Mark impatiently.
“Yes, sir; that must have been last Tuesday, and since then when you was on duty old Dan relieved you.”
“Oh, don’t go on prosing about that,” cried Mark angrily. “I know as well as you can tell me. I want to find my gun.”
“Well, sir, that’s what I was going to tell you of, only you pretty well jumped down my throat.”
“Well, tell me, then, and put me out of my misery. Where is it?”
“Oh, I don’t know, sir.”
“Then why did you begin talking as if you did?”
“Oh, come, Mr Mark, sir, don’t get in a huff with a poor fellow. I warn’t a-goin’ to tell you where it was; I was a-goin’ to tell you where it warn’t.”
“Oh,” cried Mark, stamping his foot, “isn’t it enough to aggravate a saint? These two are just alike, going on telling you a thing over and over again, especially if it is something you don’t want to know. Look here, Buck; I have lost my gun.”
“Yes, sir; you said so afore.”
“And I know as well as you do where it is not.”
“Exactly so, sir. You mean, in the arms rack as we made by driving them hard pegs into the courses of the wall.”
“Yes,” said Mark. “Well?”
“Well, sir, I was going to tell you—”
“What were you going to tell me?” raged out Mark.
“That when I went there this morning to get the ile bottle—”
“Yes, yes?” cried Mark.
“I run my eyes over the guns, and it struck me like as there was one short.”
“The third one?” cried Mark eagerly.
“Yes, sir; that’s right.”
“Well, of course that was mine. Well, where is it?”
Buck took off his cap, scratched his head, and looked hard at Dean.
“Well, you needn’t look at me,” said the boy. “I haven’t got it.”
“No, sir, I can see that,” said Buck, and he stared hard and questioningly at Dan, who looked back resentfully.
“Here, don’t stare at me, messmate,” cried the little sailor. “Think I’ve got it up my sleeve, or down one of the legs of my trowzes?”
“No, mate; you are such a little ’un that there wouldn’t be room,” said Buck thoughtfully.
“Right you are, mate; but you see I may grow a bit yet.”
“Yes,” said Buck, very slowly and thoughtfully, “and pigs may fly.”
“Hullo!” cried Dan. “Pigs—pig—arn’t likely, is it, as that little chap has took a fancy to it and sneaked it?”
“No,” cried Mark indignantly. “The little fellow’s as honest as the day.”
“Yes, sir,” said Buck dreamily, “but blacks is blacks, and whites is whites, and temptation sore long time he bore, till at last he may have given way.”
“Oh, bosh!” cried Dean.
“No, sir,” said Buck; “don’t you say that. I’ve see’d that often, that little bow and arrow and spear chap looking longingly at that gun and kinder sorter was hupping of it as if it was a hidol as he’d give anything to grab.”
“I don’t believe he would,” cried Mark. “If either of those two blacks would take anything, it would be far more likely to be Mak.”
“Yes,” said Dean, “but I wouldn’t believe it of him. Why, we know for a fact that these blacks, who are something of the same breed, are awful thieves. But no; poor old. Mak is a very brave fellow, and now that he’s beginning to talk a bit more English I’m sure he wouldn’t rob us of a thing.”
“Well, I don’t know, Mr Dean, sir,” put in Dan. “I wouldn’t take upon me to say as he’d pinch a rifle, but it arn’t safe to leave him anywhere near cold bones.”
“Oh, food,” said Mark; “that’s nothing for a savage. But you have never known him dishonest over that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say dishonest, sir,” said Dan, “but if you left a bit of one of them little stag things that we shoot and have after dinner cold for supper, he’d go and look for it again hung up in that pantry. It takes a lot of looking for; and then you don’t find it, do you, mate?”
“No,” said Buck, rather gruffly; “I do say that, mate. We have been disappinted three or four times and had to be contented with flapjack. He have got a twist, and no mistake. I have known him eat as much as me and Dan Mann put together, and then look hungry; but I suppose it is his natur’ to. You don’t think, then, gents, as it’s likely that he’s nobbled your rifle?”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Mark. “I hope not.”
“So do I, sir,” said Dan dreamily. “You see, it makes one feel uncomfortable about his ’bacco box and his knife. But oh, no, sir, I hope not,” continued the sailor slowly. “It’s true he’s a bit too full of that jibber jabber of his as you calls language, but he’s getting to talk English now, and since he’s been what Mr Dean there calls more civilised I’ve begun to take to him a bit more as a mate. Oh, no, sir, he wouldn’t collar your rifle; an’ then as to his sneaking a bit of wittles sometimes, it arn’t honest, I know, but he wouldn’t take your gun, sir. Why, I put it to you; what good would it be to he? He could not eat that.”
“No,” said Dean, “but I have heard of savages getting hold of anything in the shape of a tube to turn into a pipe for smoking.”
“Do they now, sir?” said Buck thoughtfully. “But of course he wouldn’t want the stock, and it’s a double gun. That’d be rather a ’spensive pipe, Dan, mate, for he’d have to have two bowls.”
“Couldn’t he stop up one barrel?”
“Here, I wish you two fellows would leave off chattering,” cried Mark.
“Beg pardon, sir,” said Buck, rather indignantly. “But it was Mr Dean who started that idea about the pipe.”
“Oh, bother! Never mind; I want my rifle.”
“That’s right, sir; of course you do.”
“And I am going to have it found.”
“That’s right, sir, too. Well, I hope you are satisfied, sir, that it was neither me nor Dan here as took it?”
“Of course I am.”
“Then what about old Brown?”
“Oh, no!” cried the boys, in a breath.
“Look here, sir,” said Buck, drawing himself up to his full height and seeming to swell out with some big idea; “it couldn’t have been neither Peter Dance nor Bob Bacon, ’cause they have got guns to use, and they both tells us lots of times that a gun has been a sort of plaything to them ever since they was babbies.”
“Of course,” said Mark huffily. “There you go, again, telling us what we know.”
Buck hit himself a sharp slap in the mouth as much as much as to say, “I’ve done”; and the little sailor grinned and said, “And then about old Mak and little Pig: you can’t sarch them, because there’s nothing to sarch.”
“Ah!” cried Mark. “I had forgotten all about that. I know now.”
“Hooroar!” said Dan. “He knows now! Found out where you have put it, sir?”
“No, Dan. What about that dark thing that we saw crawling through the clearing the other night, and which neither of us was sure about?”
The little sailor answered by bending his knees and then bringing his right hand down with a tremendous slap upon his right thigh.
“That’s it, sir. You’ve got it. Nigger crawling up from outside come pickling and stealing. See that, messmate?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well,” said Dan, “it must have been some black beggar from outside come creeping up at night to see what he could smug.”
“Yes, Dan,” cried Mark, eagerly.
“Well, I’m blessed!” cried Buck. “And—and—and—” He looked first at one lad and then at the other, as he rummaged first with one hand and then with the other in his pockets, and then with both together, before turning savagely upon Dan and roaring out, “Here, who’s got my knife?”
“Well, not me, messmate. Here’s mine;” and laying hold of the short lanyard about his neck he hauled out his big jack knife from inside the band of his trousers. “You don’t call that yourn, do you?”
“Na-ay!” growled Buck. “Wouldn’t own a thing like that. Mine was made of the best bit of stuff that ever came out of Sheffield.”
“Only a Brummagem handle, though,” said Dan.
“Never mind about the handle,” growled Buck. “I wouldn’t have lost that knife for anything—almost as soon lost my head. You know what a good one it was, Mr Mark, sir. Why, you might have shaved yourself with it, sir, if you had waited till you was grown up.”
“Here, none of your chaff, Buck. You can’t joke easily. I know I have got no beard, but when it does come I hope it won’t come carroty like somebody’s.”
“Carroty, sir? Not it! Last time I see my mother it had growed while I had been away three years, and she said it made her feel proud, for it was real hauburn.”
“Well, never mind about your beard, messmate,” said Dan, in a deep, gruff voice. “Do you feel sure as you have lost the knife?”
“I feel sure that it’s gone in the night, along of Mr Mark’s rifle.”
“What, out hunting together?” said Mark, laughing.
“Well, good companions,” said Dean. “One shoots the game, and the other skins and cuts it up.”
“I don’t quite see what you mean, gentlemen,” said Dan; “but it seems to me, Mr Mark, that you and me see the beggar that comes hanging about and that sneaked your gun and his knife.”
“Yes,” said Mark, “that’s it; and I feel sure that if we come to look about we shall find lots of other things are gone.”
“Yes, sir,” said Dan, “no doubt about it, and we have got the right pig by the ear, Mr Mark. I don’t mean our little Pig, but you know what I do mean; and now, I don’t like to take too much upon myself, sir.”
“Take an inch, Dan; take an ell. You being a sailor, take as many fathoms as you like, only find my gun.”
“That’s just what I’m going to try and do, sir, and old Buck’s knife too, if I can; so if you will allow me, gentlemen, I’ll just make a propogishum.”
“Go ahead then, and be smart, before old Brown gets here. Yonder he comes.”
“Well, it’s just this way, gentlemen. I say, let’s get our two niggers here, and don’t let them think for a moment as we ’spects them, but drum it into their heads somehow as something’s missing. Teach ’em same as you would a dog, and show them a rifle and a knife, and tell them to seek. I don’t quite know how you are going to make them understand as it’s a black who crawled up in the night, but I daresay you two clever gents will manage that.”
“And what then?” cried the two boys, in a breath.
“What then, sir? Strikes me as them two, the little ’un and the big ’un, will turn theirselves into traps, and we shall wake up some morning to find that they have got the thief as they caught in the night.”
“Well done, mate! I didn’t think you had got it in you,” growled Buck.
“Bravo!” cried the boys together. “Splendid!”
“Now then,” said Mark, “the next thing will be to take the two blacks into our confidence. Hold hard; there’s Brown.”
Chapter Thirty Three.The Lost Rifle.The long, weary-looking fellow came up, looked sadly from one to the other, nodding to his companions shortly, and then, turning to the boys, “Very sorry, gentlemen,” he said slowly; “your rifle, Mr Mark. Just heard from Sir James.”“Yes, it’s a nuisance, Dunn. Haven’t seen it, I suppose?”“No, sir, no,” replied the man, with a sigh. “Haven’t stood it up against a rock or a tree—”“There, there, stop that. We have gone all over it, and found out where it’s gone.”“Found—out, sir?”“Yes; we think some of the blacks have come in the night, crept in and stolen it.”“Ah!” ejaculated the man, almost animatedly.“Hullo! Do you know anything about it?” cried Mark.“My ponies—two nights—uneasy,” said the man, very slowly.“And you got up in the night to see if there were any beasts about?” cried Mark excitedly. “Oh, do go on! Make haste.”“Yes,” continued Dunn, more deliberately than ever. “Coming back—dark—fancied I saw something crawling.—Jumped aside.—Like baboon.”“That was it, Brown, safe. Dan and I saw one too. Now, what’s to be done?”“Shoot,” said the man laconically.“Oh, we don’t want to kill them.”“Small shot,” said Brown softly.“Pepper,” said Dean.Brown nodded.“Well, we are not going to try that,” cried Mark. “Here, you go and fetch the two blacks. You are quite good friends now.”Brown nodded, hurried off, and returned in a few minutes with the pair he had sought, who came up with their eyes hard at work gazing searchingly from one to the other and looking as if they expected to be called to account for some misdoing.“They think you are going to bully them, Mark,” whispered Dean. “Tell them it is all right.”Mark, who was seated upon an ancient block of stone that had fallen from the wall, sprang to his feet so suddenly that the pigmy took flight on the instant, and Mak was following him, when Mark sprang to him and caught him by the arm.“What are you going to do, stupid?” he cried. “I wasn’t going to hit you. It’s all right. Sit down. Here—pious—cooey!” he cried.“Pig, tchig, tchig, tchig, tchig!” cried Dean; and the dwarf turned to glance back as he ran.“Tell him it’s all right, Mak. We want to talk to you,” said Mark. “There sit down, and he will come.”The big black hesitated a moment, and then slowly squatted.“I say, Dean, a guilty conscience needs no accuser! Look at him in front. He’s been having something since breakfast. Pig! Pig! Mak, call him.”The Ulaka looked doubtingly at the speaker, and then gave utterance to a low, soft call which made the pigmy cease running and stop as if in doubt. Mak called again, and the little fellow turned, to stand watching him, when Mak called once more and he came slowly back, Mark talking to him the while as if he were a little child that he wanted to encourage, and smiling as he held out his hand, in which after a little more hesitation and searching gazing in Mark’s eyes, he laid his own.What followed was for the main part in pantomime, first one and then another of the English party trying to make the Illaka understand what had happened and what was required of them, a good quarter of an hour being expended over this, with the black staring at them stolidly the whole time, till Mark gave up in disgust and disappointment.“It’s no use,” he said. “They can’t understand a word we have said, or make out one of our signs.”“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said Buck.“But he seems so stupid,” cried Mark.“That’s his way, sir,” said Dan. “He can do better than that. You a’n’t seen so much of him as we have. What do you say, messmate Brown?”“Not stupid, sir,” said Brown drily; and he pointed to the pigmy, who had been crouching in the sand, nursing his bow, and slowly polishing the handle of his spear. “Pig Illaka,” said the horse keeper; and he pointed at the little fellow, who looked up at him quickly and then began to polish his spear handle more energetically with a handful of very fine sand.Mak uttered a low grunt, sprang up with flashing eyes, looked sharply round at the party, and then as if quite transformed, he sprang at the dwarf and gave him a quick light flip upon the shoulder with his open hand.“I thought so, gentlemen. He’s been sucking it in all along. Now then, you shall see what you shall see,” said Buck.The minute before the pigmy had squatted in front of them deliberately polishing his spear handle, but as if suddenly inspired by his big companion’s burst of energy, he sprang up, strung his bow, placed the nock of an arrow upon the twisted sinew which held his weapon in a state of tension, and then bending forward he stood watching the movements of Mak, who stuck his spear into the earth, and then after fixing the pigmy with a fierce look, began to crawl slowly and cautiously in and out amongst the bushes as if trying to steal a march upon the camp.He kept this up till he was quite hidden from the eyes of those who watched his movements, and then suddenly burst into sight again, maintaining his body bent nearly double as if intending to keep himself hidden from anyone at the camp, and ran swiftly back, to stop short, almost touching the two boys.“Well,” said Dean softly, “I don’t see much in this.”“Wait a bit,” whispered his cousin. “I think I do. There! See?”And now it was as if the white party were non-existent and Mak were playing his part solely for the pigmy’s amusement, for he stepped lightly up to him as if he were carrying something in his hands, which he was holding out for him to see. Then making believe to thump one end of it down and holding it with one hand, he began to dance round it, grinning with delight, stooping down from time to time to kiss it, and hug it to his breast, and ending by making belief to load it. Then dropping on one knee, he drew trigger, uttered a sharp ejaculation to simulate a report, and then crouching behind a block of stone he went through the loading movements again, advanced, retreated, advanced again, shading his eyes with one hand, and then dropped flat on his chest and crawled out of sight behind a heap of stones.“Well, has he done?” said Dean, in a whisper.Mark held up his hand, and directly after the black reappeared from quite another direction, raising himself slowly from behind another block of stone, resting an imaginary rifle upon the top, before taking aim again and firing, dropping out of sight, but only to reappear once more and repeat his tactics, after which he sprang up, waving the fancied weapon and went through what was meant for a dance of triumph over the death of an enemy.This ended as it were one part of his performance, but it was only to be followed directly after by the careful handling and petting of the rifle, which he bore now in his arms to where the pigmy was still watching his every movement and looking more excited than the big black, as he leaned forward, his face full of animation and his eyes sparkling, while Mak seemed to be expatiating in silence upon all the merits of the wonderful weapon that he had secured.He pointed here and pointed there, and then seemed to be laying it upon a stone and drawing back to admire it, stepping backward for some distance, approaching it again, patting it from end to end, and then going back to the pigmy, to touch him on the back and point at the top of the stone.This done, he took hold of his little black companion’s spear, stuck it up in the sand, smiling at it with contempt, and then toppled it over with a kick, before snatching the pigmy’s bow and arrow, pointing at them with his face screwed up in token of disgust, before throwing these with similar expressions of contempt to that with which he hadtreated the spear, some little distance away upon the ground.Then he paused to rest his cheek upon his left hand and stood gazing with a ridiculous look of sublime satisfaction at the top of the stone with its suppositious rifle, towards which he advanced upon the tips of his toes, pretended to lift it off, and bore it once more to the pigmy, laid it before him and knelt down to begin talking to him in a low, smothered tone.It was evident that the difference of their dialect was sufficient to make the pigmy reply from time to time with eager questions, which made his companion repeat himself with some show of annoyance, frowning angrily, till the pigmy nodded his head quickly, showing that he grasped his companion’s meaning.This lasted pretty well ten minutes, after which the pigmy picked up his weapons, Mak repossessed himself of his spear, and then turning to those who had been intently watching him all through, he gave them a heavy nod and then marched off without a word.“Well, ought we to clap our hands?” said Mark.“No, don’t,” said Dean. “Look there; Pig’s going off too;” for the little fellow took a couple of steps towards him, nodded his head, and then followed Mak.“I say, all of you, what does this mean—that Mak has been trying to show little Pig that the rifle has been stolen, and that he is going to try and find it and get it back?” said Mark.“I don’t know enough about these people to say, sir,” replied Buck. “Sometimes I seemed to make out that that was what it meant; at other times it looked as if he was only making a fool of himself, just capering about like a dancing doll in a show. What do you say, Dan?”“Same as you do, messmate. I just got a bit here and there.”“That’s right,” said Brown, with one of his usual sighs. “He has been telling Pig, as you call him, that a rifle has been stolen, and that they have got to get it back.”“Do you feel sure he means that?” asked Mark.“Quite,” said Brown confidently, “and we shan’t see them again till they have got it.”“Then you think they will get it?”Brown shook his head, and was silent for a few moments.“If they get it we shall see them again; if they don’t, we shan’t.”“Ashamed to show their faces eh, messmate?” asked Dan.“No—the others too much for them.”“Then we may be sending them to their death. Here, I don’t like this, Dean. I am sure father would rather that we lost the rifle. Here, let’s call them back. Come on!”
The long, weary-looking fellow came up, looked sadly from one to the other, nodding to his companions shortly, and then, turning to the boys, “Very sorry, gentlemen,” he said slowly; “your rifle, Mr Mark. Just heard from Sir James.”
“Yes, it’s a nuisance, Dunn. Haven’t seen it, I suppose?”
“No, sir, no,” replied the man, with a sigh. “Haven’t stood it up against a rock or a tree—”
“There, there, stop that. We have gone all over it, and found out where it’s gone.”
“Found—out, sir?”
“Yes; we think some of the blacks have come in the night, crept in and stolen it.”
“Ah!” ejaculated the man, almost animatedly.
“Hullo! Do you know anything about it?” cried Mark.
“My ponies—two nights—uneasy,” said the man, very slowly.
“And you got up in the night to see if there were any beasts about?” cried Mark excitedly. “Oh, do go on! Make haste.”
“Yes,” continued Dunn, more deliberately than ever. “Coming back—dark—fancied I saw something crawling.—Jumped aside.—Like baboon.”
“That was it, Brown, safe. Dan and I saw one too. Now, what’s to be done?”
“Shoot,” said the man laconically.
“Oh, we don’t want to kill them.”
“Small shot,” said Brown softly.
“Pepper,” said Dean.
Brown nodded.
“Well, we are not going to try that,” cried Mark. “Here, you go and fetch the two blacks. You are quite good friends now.”
Brown nodded, hurried off, and returned in a few minutes with the pair he had sought, who came up with their eyes hard at work gazing searchingly from one to the other and looking as if they expected to be called to account for some misdoing.
“They think you are going to bully them, Mark,” whispered Dean. “Tell them it is all right.”
Mark, who was seated upon an ancient block of stone that had fallen from the wall, sprang to his feet so suddenly that the pigmy took flight on the instant, and Mak was following him, when Mark sprang to him and caught him by the arm.
“What are you going to do, stupid?” he cried. “I wasn’t going to hit you. It’s all right. Sit down. Here—pious—cooey!” he cried.
“Pig, tchig, tchig, tchig, tchig!” cried Dean; and the dwarf turned to glance back as he ran.
“Tell him it’s all right, Mak. We want to talk to you,” said Mark. “There sit down, and he will come.”
The big black hesitated a moment, and then slowly squatted.
“I say, Dean, a guilty conscience needs no accuser! Look at him in front. He’s been having something since breakfast. Pig! Pig! Mak, call him.”
The Ulaka looked doubtingly at the speaker, and then gave utterance to a low, soft call which made the pigmy cease running and stop as if in doubt. Mak called again, and the little fellow turned, to stand watching him, when Mak called once more and he came slowly back, Mark talking to him the while as if he were a little child that he wanted to encourage, and smiling as he held out his hand, in which after a little more hesitation and searching gazing in Mark’s eyes, he laid his own.
What followed was for the main part in pantomime, first one and then another of the English party trying to make the Illaka understand what had happened and what was required of them, a good quarter of an hour being expended over this, with the black staring at them stolidly the whole time, till Mark gave up in disgust and disappointment.
“It’s no use,” he said. “They can’t understand a word we have said, or make out one of our signs.”
“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said Buck.
“But he seems so stupid,” cried Mark.
“That’s his way, sir,” said Dan. “He can do better than that. You a’n’t seen so much of him as we have. What do you say, messmate Brown?”
“Not stupid, sir,” said Brown drily; and he pointed to the pigmy, who had been crouching in the sand, nursing his bow, and slowly polishing the handle of his spear. “Pig Illaka,” said the horse keeper; and he pointed at the little fellow, who looked up at him quickly and then began to polish his spear handle more energetically with a handful of very fine sand.
Mak uttered a low grunt, sprang up with flashing eyes, looked sharply round at the party, and then as if quite transformed, he sprang at the dwarf and gave him a quick light flip upon the shoulder with his open hand.
“I thought so, gentlemen. He’s been sucking it in all along. Now then, you shall see what you shall see,” said Buck.
The minute before the pigmy had squatted in front of them deliberately polishing his spear handle, but as if suddenly inspired by his big companion’s burst of energy, he sprang up, strung his bow, placed the nock of an arrow upon the twisted sinew which held his weapon in a state of tension, and then bending forward he stood watching the movements of Mak, who stuck his spear into the earth, and then after fixing the pigmy with a fierce look, began to crawl slowly and cautiously in and out amongst the bushes as if trying to steal a march upon the camp.
He kept this up till he was quite hidden from the eyes of those who watched his movements, and then suddenly burst into sight again, maintaining his body bent nearly double as if intending to keep himself hidden from anyone at the camp, and ran swiftly back, to stop short, almost touching the two boys.
“Well,” said Dean softly, “I don’t see much in this.”
“Wait a bit,” whispered his cousin. “I think I do. There! See?”
And now it was as if the white party were non-existent and Mak were playing his part solely for the pigmy’s amusement, for he stepped lightly up to him as if he were carrying something in his hands, which he was holding out for him to see. Then making believe to thump one end of it down and holding it with one hand, he began to dance round it, grinning with delight, stooping down from time to time to kiss it, and hug it to his breast, and ending by making belief to load it. Then dropping on one knee, he drew trigger, uttered a sharp ejaculation to simulate a report, and then crouching behind a block of stone he went through the loading movements again, advanced, retreated, advanced again, shading his eyes with one hand, and then dropped flat on his chest and crawled out of sight behind a heap of stones.
“Well, has he done?” said Dean, in a whisper.
Mark held up his hand, and directly after the black reappeared from quite another direction, raising himself slowly from behind another block of stone, resting an imaginary rifle upon the top, before taking aim again and firing, dropping out of sight, but only to reappear once more and repeat his tactics, after which he sprang up, waving the fancied weapon and went through what was meant for a dance of triumph over the death of an enemy.
This ended as it were one part of his performance, but it was only to be followed directly after by the careful handling and petting of the rifle, which he bore now in his arms to where the pigmy was still watching his every movement and looking more excited than the big black, as he leaned forward, his face full of animation and his eyes sparkling, while Mak seemed to be expatiating in silence upon all the merits of the wonderful weapon that he had secured.
He pointed here and pointed there, and then seemed to be laying it upon a stone and drawing back to admire it, stepping backward for some distance, approaching it again, patting it from end to end, and then going back to the pigmy, to touch him on the back and point at the top of the stone.
This done, he took hold of his little black companion’s spear, stuck it up in the sand, smiling at it with contempt, and then toppled it over with a kick, before snatching the pigmy’s bow and arrow, pointing at them with his face screwed up in token of disgust, before throwing these with similar expressions of contempt to that with which he hadtreated the spear, some little distance away upon the ground.
Then he paused to rest his cheek upon his left hand and stood gazing with a ridiculous look of sublime satisfaction at the top of the stone with its suppositious rifle, towards which he advanced upon the tips of his toes, pretended to lift it off, and bore it once more to the pigmy, laid it before him and knelt down to begin talking to him in a low, smothered tone.
It was evident that the difference of their dialect was sufficient to make the pigmy reply from time to time with eager questions, which made his companion repeat himself with some show of annoyance, frowning angrily, till the pigmy nodded his head quickly, showing that he grasped his companion’s meaning.
This lasted pretty well ten minutes, after which the pigmy picked up his weapons, Mak repossessed himself of his spear, and then turning to those who had been intently watching him all through, he gave them a heavy nod and then marched off without a word.
“Well, ought we to clap our hands?” said Mark.
“No, don’t,” said Dean. “Look there; Pig’s going off too;” for the little fellow took a couple of steps towards him, nodded his head, and then followed Mak.
“I say, all of you, what does this mean—that Mak has been trying to show little Pig that the rifle has been stolen, and that he is going to try and find it and get it back?” said Mark.
“I don’t know enough about these people to say, sir,” replied Buck. “Sometimes I seemed to make out that that was what it meant; at other times it looked as if he was only making a fool of himself, just capering about like a dancing doll in a show. What do you say, Dan?”
“Same as you do, messmate. I just got a bit here and there.”
“That’s right,” said Brown, with one of his usual sighs. “He has been telling Pig, as you call him, that a rifle has been stolen, and that they have got to get it back.”
“Do you feel sure he means that?” asked Mark.
“Quite,” said Brown confidently, “and we shan’t see them again till they have got it.”
“Then you think they will get it?”
Brown shook his head, and was silent for a few moments.
“If they get it we shall see them again; if they don’t, we shan’t.”
“Ashamed to show their faces eh, messmate?” asked Dan.
“No—the others too much for them.”
“Then we may be sending them to their death. Here, I don’t like this, Dean. I am sure father would rather that we lost the rifle. Here, let’s call them back. Come on!”
Chapter Thirty Four.A Terrible Slip.The two boys hurried off in the direction taken by the blacks, hastening through the ruins in the full expectation of coming upon them at any moment, till the mazy wilderness of stones and trees closed in and farther progress was checked.“We can’t have passed them, can we?” asked Mark.“No; impossible.”“Well, then, where are they?”For answer Dean gave a shout, and another and another, the two boys standing awestricken as they listened to the strange, hollow echoes that multiplied and magnified the hail till it slowly died out in whispers. But there was no reply.“I say, they must have managed to top this wall in some way, or known of some passage by which they could get outside into the further ruins.”“I don’t know,” said Dean, in a whisper. “I say, this place seems to grow more strange and weird the more you wander about it. Doesn’t it to you?”“Yes, sometimes—horribly creepy, only it is stupid to think so, but I can’t help feeling as if we are surrounded by things that are watching us.”“What do you mean? Those dog monkey brutes—the baboons?”“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mark hurriedly. “Let’s get back. I know it’s stupid, but one knows that there must have been thousands upon thousands of people living here, no one can tell how long back, and I don’t like it.”“I say,” said Dean, and as he spoke he gave an uneasy glance round, “isn’t that being superstitious?”“I don’t know,” replied his cousin. “Perhaps it is; but I can’t help feeling a bit queer. When we get in these dark parts where the sun doesn’t shine and it’s all so silent till you speak—there, hark at that! We are just at the mouth of that great passage where the walls, quite forty feet high, are close together and go winding away—and there, you can hear that; it’s just as if something was taking up what I said and whispering.”“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Dean aloud, and then turning sharply he caught excitedly at his cousin’s arm, gripping it almost painfully, and dragged at him to hurry him away. “Oh, I say,” he whispered, for his laugh had turned into an almost unearthly burst of harsh chuckles and cries which went literally rattling away down the dark passage nearly choked with thick growth and only dimly-seen. “Oh, do come away, Mark! This isn’t the passage we came to that day with uncle and the doctor. There must be something watching us—something no canny, as the Scotch people call it. Quick, let’s get away.”“I can’t,” said Mark. “I feel as if I couldn’t stir.”“Why? Is something seeming to hold you?”“No,” replied Mark; “but I do feel rather shuddery all down my back, and—I know it’s nervousness and imagination—that’s why I feel I can’t go away. It is all nonsense, I tell you, and I mean to come here another time with Buck and Dan, and we will see what they think of it.”“That will all depend on how we look to them,” said Dean.“Exactly,” said his cousin, “and that means that we mustn’t behave like a pair of shivering girls.”“And then?” asked Dean.“And then—go right straight in and along that narrow passage wherever it leads. I don’t suppose we shall find any ghosts of the old people. I say, how easy it is to frighten yourself in a place like this!”“Oh, I don’t know. It is very creepy.”“Seems to be,” said Mark—very emphatic over the “Seems.”“But it will be dangerous as well as horrid to go along a place like this.”“Why?”“There may be serpents, or baboons, or no one knows what fierce animals may make it their lair. Then too there may be holes and cracks.”“Course there may be,” said Mark, “but we shouldn’t be such a pair of noodles as to come here without a lantern or two.”“And plenty of candles,” said Dean.“Of course. There, it is very evident that those two have given us the slip. Let’s give them one more shout, and then get back.”“Oh, never mind the shout,” said Dean hurriedly. “We will go back at once. I wouldn’t be overtaken here when the sun goes down, and lose my way, for I don’t know what.”“Why?” said Mark, half mockingly.“Because—because,” replied his cousin, with something like a shiver, “uncle and the doctor would be so uneasy.”Mark gave his companion an arch look, and there was a faint smile upon his countenance as his eyes seemed to say—“Oh, Dean, what a humbug you are!”The boy read it as meaning this, and he said hastily, “Don’t laugh at me, old fellow. Hope I am not going to have a touch of fever, but I do feel very queer.”“Let’s get back, then, old chap,” said Mark, clapping his companion on the shoulder. “But don’t you fancy that. It’s damp and cold here, and no wonder. Come along. I think I can find my way back; don’t you?”“Don’t know. I am not at all sure. It must be getting late, and in here it will be as dark as pitch as soon as the sun’s down. I say, don’t you think we were rather foolish to come so far?”“Well, yes, it was rather stupid, but one was led on by a feeling of excitement. For it would be horrible if we sent those two poor fellows to where they may get into trouble and never come back.”It was about an hour later that, after forcing their way through the almost impenetrable bushes, climbing over stones and round them, and losing themselves again and again in what had become, as it seemed to them, more and more a horrible maze, Dean made a snatch at his cousin’s arm as he slipped and fell, dragging Mark, till the lad checked his descent by a desperate snatch at the trunk of a gnarled climber.“Oh, I say,” cried Mark, “don’t say you are hurt!”A low, half stifled gasp or two came from some distance down.“Dean, old fellow! Here, I say, speak! Where are you?”“Down here somewhere.—Ugh! It is black and cold.”“Well, climb up again. I am reaching down and holding out my hand. Catch hold.”“I can’t reach,” came back, in a husky voice, “and I am afraid.”“Don’t say afraid!” cried Mark angrily. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”“I have hurt my ankle, Mark, and it gives way under me. Oh, why did we come here!”“Don’t talk like that. Here, I’ll get back out of this and go and fetch father and the doctor and the others, and we will carry you back.”“No, no, Mark; I am sick and faint. Don’t—pray don’t go and leave me. I am afraid I am a horrible coward, but if you leave me alone here in this dreadful place, and like this, I don’t think I could bear it.”“Oh, nonsense! You are only in a sort of split in the rocks. Be a man. I must go for help; it’s no use to shout.”“No, no,” said Dean, in a hoarse whisper; “don’t—pray don’t shout.”“Well, I won’t! but I must go and leave you for a bit.”“I can’t bear it. You shan’t go and leave me! There, I think my ankle’s better now, and it doesn’t seem so dark. You can’t be above twenty feet above me; and that’s nothing, is it?”“No, nothing at all,” replied Mark hoarsely.“Then I am going to climb up.”“Yes, be careful, and—”“Oh, Mark! Mark!”His cousin’s cry seemed to hiss strangely past the lad’s ears. Then there was a moment or two’s silence and a horrible splash, followed by the washing of water against the sides of the black chasm down which Mark was straining his eyes to gaze, and then whisper after whisper, soft and strange, until they died away.
The two boys hurried off in the direction taken by the blacks, hastening through the ruins in the full expectation of coming upon them at any moment, till the mazy wilderness of stones and trees closed in and farther progress was checked.
“We can’t have passed them, can we?” asked Mark.
“No; impossible.”
“Well, then, where are they?”
For answer Dean gave a shout, and another and another, the two boys standing awestricken as they listened to the strange, hollow echoes that multiplied and magnified the hail till it slowly died out in whispers. But there was no reply.
“I say, they must have managed to top this wall in some way, or known of some passage by which they could get outside into the further ruins.”
“I don’t know,” said Dean, in a whisper. “I say, this place seems to grow more strange and weird the more you wander about it. Doesn’t it to you?”
“Yes, sometimes—horribly creepy, only it is stupid to think so, but I can’t help feeling as if we are surrounded by things that are watching us.”
“What do you mean? Those dog monkey brutes—the baboons?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mark hurriedly. “Let’s get back. I know it’s stupid, but one knows that there must have been thousands upon thousands of people living here, no one can tell how long back, and I don’t like it.”
“I say,” said Dean, and as he spoke he gave an uneasy glance round, “isn’t that being superstitious?”
“I don’t know,” replied his cousin. “Perhaps it is; but I can’t help feeling a bit queer. When we get in these dark parts where the sun doesn’t shine and it’s all so silent till you speak—there, hark at that! We are just at the mouth of that great passage where the walls, quite forty feet high, are close together and go winding away—and there, you can hear that; it’s just as if something was taking up what I said and whispering.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Dean aloud, and then turning sharply he caught excitedly at his cousin’s arm, gripping it almost painfully, and dragged at him to hurry him away. “Oh, I say,” he whispered, for his laugh had turned into an almost unearthly burst of harsh chuckles and cries which went literally rattling away down the dark passage nearly choked with thick growth and only dimly-seen. “Oh, do come away, Mark! This isn’t the passage we came to that day with uncle and the doctor. There must be something watching us—something no canny, as the Scotch people call it. Quick, let’s get away.”
“I can’t,” said Mark. “I feel as if I couldn’t stir.”
“Why? Is something seeming to hold you?”
“No,” replied Mark; “but I do feel rather shuddery all down my back, and—I know it’s nervousness and imagination—that’s why I feel I can’t go away. It is all nonsense, I tell you, and I mean to come here another time with Buck and Dan, and we will see what they think of it.”
“That will all depend on how we look to them,” said Dean.
“Exactly,” said his cousin, “and that means that we mustn’t behave like a pair of shivering girls.”
“And then?” asked Dean.
“And then—go right straight in and along that narrow passage wherever it leads. I don’t suppose we shall find any ghosts of the old people. I say, how easy it is to frighten yourself in a place like this!”
“Oh, I don’t know. It is very creepy.”
“Seems to be,” said Mark—very emphatic over the “Seems.”
“But it will be dangerous as well as horrid to go along a place like this.”
“Why?”
“There may be serpents, or baboons, or no one knows what fierce animals may make it their lair. Then too there may be holes and cracks.”
“Course there may be,” said Mark, “but we shouldn’t be such a pair of noodles as to come here without a lantern or two.”
“And plenty of candles,” said Dean.
“Of course. There, it is very evident that those two have given us the slip. Let’s give them one more shout, and then get back.”
“Oh, never mind the shout,” said Dean hurriedly. “We will go back at once. I wouldn’t be overtaken here when the sun goes down, and lose my way, for I don’t know what.”
“Why?” said Mark, half mockingly.
“Because—because,” replied his cousin, with something like a shiver, “uncle and the doctor would be so uneasy.”
Mark gave his companion an arch look, and there was a faint smile upon his countenance as his eyes seemed to say—“Oh, Dean, what a humbug you are!”
The boy read it as meaning this, and he said hastily, “Don’t laugh at me, old fellow. Hope I am not going to have a touch of fever, but I do feel very queer.”
“Let’s get back, then, old chap,” said Mark, clapping his companion on the shoulder. “But don’t you fancy that. It’s damp and cold here, and no wonder. Come along. I think I can find my way back; don’t you?”
“Don’t know. I am not at all sure. It must be getting late, and in here it will be as dark as pitch as soon as the sun’s down. I say, don’t you think we were rather foolish to come so far?”
“Well, yes, it was rather stupid, but one was led on by a feeling of excitement. For it would be horrible if we sent those two poor fellows to where they may get into trouble and never come back.”
It was about an hour later that, after forcing their way through the almost impenetrable bushes, climbing over stones and round them, and losing themselves again and again in what had become, as it seemed to them, more and more a horrible maze, Dean made a snatch at his cousin’s arm as he slipped and fell, dragging Mark, till the lad checked his descent by a desperate snatch at the trunk of a gnarled climber.
“Oh, I say,” cried Mark, “don’t say you are hurt!”
A low, half stifled gasp or two came from some distance down.
“Dean, old fellow! Here, I say, speak! Where are you?”
“Down here somewhere.—Ugh! It is black and cold.”
“Well, climb up again. I am reaching down and holding out my hand. Catch hold.”
“I can’t reach,” came back, in a husky voice, “and I am afraid.”
“Don’t say afraid!” cried Mark angrily. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I have hurt my ankle, Mark, and it gives way under me. Oh, why did we come here!”
“Don’t talk like that. Here, I’ll get back out of this and go and fetch father and the doctor and the others, and we will carry you back.”
“No, no, Mark; I am sick and faint. Don’t—pray don’t go and leave me. I am afraid I am a horrible coward, but if you leave me alone here in this dreadful place, and like this, I don’t think I could bear it.”
“Oh, nonsense! You are only in a sort of split in the rocks. Be a man. I must go for help; it’s no use to shout.”
“No, no,” said Dean, in a hoarse whisper; “don’t—pray don’t shout.”
“Well, I won’t! but I must go and leave you for a bit.”
“I can’t bear it. You shan’t go and leave me! There, I think my ankle’s better now, and it doesn’t seem so dark. You can’t be above twenty feet above me; and that’s nothing, is it?”
“No, nothing at all,” replied Mark hoarsely.
“Then I am going to climb up.”
“Yes, be careful, and—”
“Oh, Mark! Mark!”
His cousin’s cry seemed to hiss strangely past the lad’s ears. Then there was a moment or two’s silence and a horrible splash, followed by the washing of water against the sides of the black chasm down which Mark was straining his eyes to gaze, and then whisper after whisper, soft and strange, until they died away.
Chapter Thirty Five.Striking a damp Match.Mark Roche turned cold—not the cold of contact with ice, but what may be termed in contradistinction to muscular cold, a mental freezing of the nerves with horror. For how long a space of time he could not afterwards have told, he stood bending over what he felt must be some horrible depth down which his cousin had fallen, to be plunged into deep water at the bottom. Every faculty was chained save that of hearing as he listened, waiting for some fresh disturbance of the depths below by Dean rising to the surface to begin struggling for life.And all this time he could not cry out for help. It seemed to him as if he could not have breathed for the icy hand that was clutching him at the throat.There were moments when he could not even think, when it seemed to be unreal, a nightmare-like dream of suffering when he had been called upon to bear the horror of knowing that his cousin had died a horrible death, while he could not even feel that it was his duty to climb down somewhere into the darkness where he might be able to extend to the poor fellow a saving hand as he rose.But all was still; the last faint whisperings of the water against the rocky sides had died out. Not a sound arose. He could not even hear his own breath. And then all at once he uttered a gasp as he expired the breath he had held, andthud, thud, thud, thud, he felt his heart leap the pulsations keeping on now at a tremendous rate as they beat against his quivering breast.He might have been dead during the moments that had passed. Now he was wildly alive, for, as if by the magic touch of a magician’s wand, he had been brought back to himself, as in a slow, awestricken whisper Dean uttered the words, from somewhere apparently close below, “Mark! Did you hear that?”Once more the lad could not reply, and Dean’s voice rose again, loudly and wildly agitated now.“Mark! Are you there? Did you hear that?”“Yes, yes,” gasped the boy. “Oh, Dean, old fellow, I thought it was you that had gone down!”“No; but wasn’t it an escape? I began to climb, and a big stone upon which I had trusted myself went down with that horrible splash; but I kept hold of the side, and I am all right yet. But oh, how you frightened me! I began to think, the same as you did, that it was you who had fallen, in spite of knowing that it was the stone. But being here in the darkness makes one so nervous.”“Yes,” panted Mark, who was pressing his hands to his breast.“But I say, what’s the matter with you? Your voice sounds so queer!”“Does it? I shall be better directly. Fancying you had fallen set my heart off racing—a sort of palpitation; but it’s calming down now. Can you hold on? Are you safe?”“Well, I don’t feel so bad. That horrible frightened feeling has gone off, and I think I can hold on or begin to climb again now.”“No, no; don’t try yet,” cried Mark.“All right; but what are you going to do?”“Come down to you as soon as I can breathe more easily. I am all of a quiver, and just as if I had been running a race.”“All right, then, wait; but it’s of no use for you to try to get down. What good could you do?”“I don’t know yet,” replied Mark. “All I know is that I can’t leave you like this. I must come and help you.”“No, you mustn’t,” said Dean. “You would only be in the way, and I am getting more and more all right. I felt just like a little child in the dark for the time; but that nasty sensation has all gone now. Why, Mark, old man, you seem to be worse than I was.”“I am,” said Mark emphatically.“You couldn’t be, old fellow. I should be quite ashamed of it, only I couldn’t help it a bit. It was very stupid, but I had got a sort of idea that I had slipped down into a place full of bogeys, and I daren’t let you shout again for fear that it would be telling all those—what’s his names—that made the echoes where I was. Ugh! It was horrid! But the queer part of it is that though I must be in a very awkward place, with water down below, I don’t seem to mind; but I don’t want to get wet. It would be rather awkward if I went down, though; but I don’t think it’s far, and it would be better to fall into water than on to stones. One would come to the surface again directly and get hold of the walls somewhere.”“But it would be very horrid,” said Mark hoarsely.“Oh, when you come to think of it,” said Dean coolly, “that’s only fancy. Water’s water, and it’s only because it’s dark that it seems so horrid; for it is only seems, you know, because if the sun were shining right down here we should think nothing of it.”“’M–m–m–no,” said Mark dubiously. Then speaking more firmly, “Look here, Dean.”“Can’t; it’s all black,” replied the lad coolly.“Well, you know what I mean. Can you hold on?”“Oh, yes; I am standing upright on a big piece of stone that sticks out of the side.”“Yes. Go on.”“I am,” said Dean quite calmly. “But wait a minute; I want to see—no, no, I mean find out—how far it is to the water.”“What are you going to do?”“Drop this piece of stone in that I am touching. It is quite loose.”“No, no; don’t!” cried Mark excitedly. “It will raise up all those horrible echoes again.”“Well, let it. Who’s afraid?”Plosh!“There!” cried Dean. “Why, I don’t believe it’s six feet below where I’m standing. What a queer whispering echo it does make, though. I wonder whether there is any kind of fish down here. Eels or newts, perhaps. Now then, what’s to be done next?”Mark was silent for a few moments, and then beginning to be more imbued with his cousin’s coolness and matter-of-fact way of treating his position, he exclaimed, “I can’t think as clearly as you do, Dean. I want to see what’s best, and all that I can come to is that I must go for help. If you dare hold on there till I come back with the others, and ropes or halters—”“Dare?” cried Dean. “There’s nodareabout it. I must. But I say, what a pair of guffins we are!”“Oh, don’t talk like that,” said Mark. “It is very brave and good of you, but I know it is only done to try to cheer me up. I wish I wasn’t such a coward, Dean.”“I don’t,” said Dean, with quite a laugh. “You are just the sort of coward I like—sticking to your comrade like this. Think I want you to be one of those brave fellows who would run away, calling murder? But I say, arn’t we a pair of guffins?”“Oh, don’t talk like that! What do you mean?”“Well, here we are in the dark.”“Yes; we had no business to come. We ought to have known that we might be lost here after sundown, and have brought a lantern.”“Pooh! Who was going to expect that Pig and Mak were going to dodge us like they did? But all the same we did show some gumption, only we let ourselves get our heads full of fancies; and here have we been standing in the dark all this time with each a box of matches in his pocket.”“Oh!” ejaculated Mark.“You get yours,” continued Dean. “I am all right now, and I don’t want to risk slithering off into the cold wet water.”Scratch!There was a faint line of phosphorescence giving its pallid gleam for a few moments; then the rattle as of matches being moved about in a tin box, another scratch, a line of light, and then a very faint dull spark seemed to descend and become extinct in the water beneath.“Try again,” said Dean.Scratch!The same line of light, and the phosphorescent tip of the match going down again to expire in the water.“Hope you have got plenty of matches,” said Dean.“Yes, plenty,” cried Mark, making the rattle in the box again.“You must have got them wet somehow.”“No, no,” cried Mark impatiently. “It is my fingers that are so moist with perspiration.”“What a bother! I’d have a try, but my hands are regularly wet. The stones down here are dripping and oozing.”“Don’t you stir,” cried Mark. “I’ll try again, and give my fingers a good rub first on my sleeve.”“Yes, do; and mind you don’t touch the round tip of the match.”“I’m afraid I must have done so to all of them.”“Afraid be hanged!” said Dean impetuously. “What is there to be afraid of? Now, don’t hurry. I’m getting as cool as a dessert ice; and you are getting better, arn’t you?”“Ye–es.”“Well, it doesn’t sound like it. You don’t seem to be yourself, old chap. You know I always look up to you as being more plucky than I am. Here we are getting better every minute, and there is nothing to hurry about. They won’t begin the supper till we get back. Leave the matches alone for a minute or two and give a good hail. They must be looking for us.”“No, no; I can’t shout now.”“Why?”“Oh, I don’t know. There, I must strike another match.”“No, you mustn’t. Give a good hail.”“I can’t, I tell you.”“Well, I can,” cried Dean. “I don’t feel a bit frightened of bogeys now.”“Ahoy–y–y–y–y!” he shouted, and there was a hollow echoing noise, but nothing approaching what they had heard before.Then they listened till the reverberations died out; but there was no hopeful sound to cheer them, and with a low despairing sigh which he tried in vain to suppress, Mark drew another carefully selected match across the side of the box. This time there was a flash, the head of the tiny wax taper blazed out, illumined the square hole into which Dean had slipped, and revealed him about a dozen feet below where his cousin was holding the match.“Quick!” cried Dean. “Get another out and light it before you burn your fingers. Well done—that’s the way! Hold it more over. I want to reconnoitre, as the soldiers say.”“Be careful!” panted Mark. “Mind you don’t slip.”“Trust me,” said Dean. “No, no, don’t light another. It will only be waste, because I have seen it all.”“I had better light another match,” cried Mark hoarsely.“No, you hadn’t. Chuck that down; you are burning your fingers.”The still burning end of the tiny taper lit up the sides of the square hole as it descended to the surface of the water and was extinguished with a faintspet.“Now then,” cried Dean, “I have got it all fixed at the back of my eyes like what old Buck calls a fortygraff, and just where I am standing it is all straight up and down, but a little way to the left there’s a regular set of holes just as if stones had been left out. Why, it’s as easy as kissing your hand. This must have been one of the old temple wells, and these holes must have been left like steps for the old people to come down and clip their water.”“Oh, do take care!” cried Mark.“Won’t I just! I shall be all right. I say, old chap, what a lark!”“Lark!” cried Mark angrily. “What do you mean by that?”“Why, it seems to me quite comic to think that we two fellows, who ought to have known better, should have made such a hullabaloo about nothing at all. Oh, I say, isn’t it lucky that nobody else was here! I wouldn’t—”“Ah!” gasped Mark, as there was a faint rattling of bits of stone, andplish, plash, plosh, three fragments dropped into the water.“All right, sonny,” said Dean, who had shifted his position and begun to climb. “I amen route; no tree roots here, though, but plenty of stony holes. Clear the course, for up I come!”The boy spoke cheerily enough, but his words were accompanied by a faint panting as if he were making great exertion.“I say, though, Mark,” he went on, “how about your brave British boy? How about your manly pluck? Pretty pair we have been! All right, old man; I didn’t slip. It was a stone. Ah!” ejaculated the boy, with a cry of pain.“Oh, Dean!”“Don’t! It’s all right, I tell you. Do you want to frighten me off?”“No, no, no. But you cried out.”“Enough to make me. I must have twisted my ankle a bit, and it gave me such a stab just then. All right—better. Up I come. What was I talking about? Oh, I know. But I say, Mark, don’t you feel like a gallant young Briton, ready to face any danger?”“No, I don’t,” cried Mark angrily. “I feel like a miserable coward;” and he uttered a hysterical sob as he passed his wet hand over his dripping brow.“Do you?” said Dean coolly. “Well, that’s about what’s the matter with me; only this is rather hard work, and I am too busy to squirm. Brave British boys! Ha, ha! Well, I suppose every chap feels a bit soft sometimes. I say, say something.”“Oh, take care, old chap!”“Well, I am doing that. Say something else.”“I can’t!” groaned Mark.“That’s enough,” cried Dean excitedly. “I can’t see, but I can hear that my head must be a bit out of this hole, and— Quick! Hand!”The last two words were ejaculated wildly, and Mark responded by making a snatch in the direction he felt that his cousin must be, and caught him fast, throwing himself backward. There was a rush and the fall of a heavy stone with a tremendous splash; then no sound but a hoarse breathing from two chests.“Hah!” ejaculated Dean. “That last stone must have grown mouldy, and gave way; but it’s all right. Now for a rest. Shouldn’t like to do that again.”Then there was profound silence for the space of a few minutes as the two lads knelt there clinging to each other in the profound darkness, thinking of many things; and the thoughts of both had the same trend, the grips of their hands involuntarily growing tighter the while.How long they knelt there, communing, giving their better feelings full sway, neither knew, but at last the silence was broken by Mark whispering, “Dean, old fellow; what an escape!”“Don’t, don’t!” was whispered back. “Don’t speak to me, or I shall break down.”“Ah!” sighed Mark, and there was silence again, broken this time by Dean.“I can’t help it, Mark, old fellow. I have been trying so hard; but I must be a terrible coward. Tell me, oh, do tell me! Am I safe?”The answer came faintly from apparently some distance away, in the shape of a sailor’s, “Ahoy–y–y–y!”“Yes,” cried Mark excitedly. “That’s old Dan’s voice. They are looking for us. Ahoy–y–y–y!” he shouted, with his voice sounding strangely cracked and wild.Quite a minute elapsed before they heard another hail, and by this time the two boys had pulled themselves together a bit, enough to respond with double the vigour of before, while ere many minutes had passed a steady interchange of calls made the task of the searchers so easy that the gleam of a lantern appeared, to be followed by the report of a gun, and this time there was a perfect volley of the strange echoes.“Hear that?” cried Dean, in his natural voice.“Hear it? Yes?”Dean uttered a gasp as if he were swallowing something that was hard, and then with a laugh he said, “Mark, old chap, isn’t it queer! That seems to be the jolliest sound I ever heard in my life.”“Yes,” said Mark coolly; “but we have got a long walk before us, and no end of stones to climb, and I expect we shall get into a precious row.”“Never mind the row, old fellow. I wonder what they’ve got for supper!”
Mark Roche turned cold—not the cold of contact with ice, but what may be termed in contradistinction to muscular cold, a mental freezing of the nerves with horror. For how long a space of time he could not afterwards have told, he stood bending over what he felt must be some horrible depth down which his cousin had fallen, to be plunged into deep water at the bottom. Every faculty was chained save that of hearing as he listened, waiting for some fresh disturbance of the depths below by Dean rising to the surface to begin struggling for life.
And all this time he could not cry out for help. It seemed to him as if he could not have breathed for the icy hand that was clutching him at the throat.
There were moments when he could not even think, when it seemed to be unreal, a nightmare-like dream of suffering when he had been called upon to bear the horror of knowing that his cousin had died a horrible death, while he could not even feel that it was his duty to climb down somewhere into the darkness where he might be able to extend to the poor fellow a saving hand as he rose.
But all was still; the last faint whisperings of the water against the rocky sides had died out. Not a sound arose. He could not even hear his own breath. And then all at once he uttered a gasp as he expired the breath he had held, andthud, thud, thud, thud, he felt his heart leap the pulsations keeping on now at a tremendous rate as they beat against his quivering breast.
He might have been dead during the moments that had passed. Now he was wildly alive, for, as if by the magic touch of a magician’s wand, he had been brought back to himself, as in a slow, awestricken whisper Dean uttered the words, from somewhere apparently close below, “Mark! Did you hear that?”
Once more the lad could not reply, and Dean’s voice rose again, loudly and wildly agitated now.
“Mark! Are you there? Did you hear that?”
“Yes, yes,” gasped the boy. “Oh, Dean, old fellow, I thought it was you that had gone down!”
“No; but wasn’t it an escape? I began to climb, and a big stone upon which I had trusted myself went down with that horrible splash; but I kept hold of the side, and I am all right yet. But oh, how you frightened me! I began to think, the same as you did, that it was you who had fallen, in spite of knowing that it was the stone. But being here in the darkness makes one so nervous.”
“Yes,” panted Mark, who was pressing his hands to his breast.
“But I say, what’s the matter with you? Your voice sounds so queer!”
“Does it? I shall be better directly. Fancying you had fallen set my heart off racing—a sort of palpitation; but it’s calming down now. Can you hold on? Are you safe?”
“Well, I don’t feel so bad. That horrible frightened feeling has gone off, and I think I can hold on or begin to climb again now.”
“No, no; don’t try yet,” cried Mark.
“All right; but what are you going to do?”
“Come down to you as soon as I can breathe more easily. I am all of a quiver, and just as if I had been running a race.”
“All right, then, wait; but it’s of no use for you to try to get down. What good could you do?”
“I don’t know yet,” replied Mark. “All I know is that I can’t leave you like this. I must come and help you.”
“No, you mustn’t,” said Dean. “You would only be in the way, and I am getting more and more all right. I felt just like a little child in the dark for the time; but that nasty sensation has all gone now. Why, Mark, old man, you seem to be worse than I was.”
“I am,” said Mark emphatically.
“You couldn’t be, old fellow. I should be quite ashamed of it, only I couldn’t help it a bit. It was very stupid, but I had got a sort of idea that I had slipped down into a place full of bogeys, and I daren’t let you shout again for fear that it would be telling all those—what’s his names—that made the echoes where I was. Ugh! It was horrid! But the queer part of it is that though I must be in a very awkward place, with water down below, I don’t seem to mind; but I don’t want to get wet. It would be rather awkward if I went down, though; but I don’t think it’s far, and it would be better to fall into water than on to stones. One would come to the surface again directly and get hold of the walls somewhere.”
“But it would be very horrid,” said Mark hoarsely.
“Oh, when you come to think of it,” said Dean coolly, “that’s only fancy. Water’s water, and it’s only because it’s dark that it seems so horrid; for it is only seems, you know, because if the sun were shining right down here we should think nothing of it.”
“’M–m–m–no,” said Mark dubiously. Then speaking more firmly, “Look here, Dean.”
“Can’t; it’s all black,” replied the lad coolly.
“Well, you know what I mean. Can you hold on?”
“Oh, yes; I am standing upright on a big piece of stone that sticks out of the side.”
“Yes. Go on.”
“I am,” said Dean quite calmly. “But wait a minute; I want to see—no, no, I mean find out—how far it is to the water.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Drop this piece of stone in that I am touching. It is quite loose.”
“No, no; don’t!” cried Mark excitedly. “It will raise up all those horrible echoes again.”
“Well, let it. Who’s afraid?”
Plosh!
“There!” cried Dean. “Why, I don’t believe it’s six feet below where I’m standing. What a queer whispering echo it does make, though. I wonder whether there is any kind of fish down here. Eels or newts, perhaps. Now then, what’s to be done next?”
Mark was silent for a few moments, and then beginning to be more imbued with his cousin’s coolness and matter-of-fact way of treating his position, he exclaimed, “I can’t think as clearly as you do, Dean. I want to see what’s best, and all that I can come to is that I must go for help. If you dare hold on there till I come back with the others, and ropes or halters—”
“Dare?” cried Dean. “There’s nodareabout it. I must. But I say, what a pair of guffins we are!”
“Oh, don’t talk like that,” said Mark. “It is very brave and good of you, but I know it is only done to try to cheer me up. I wish I wasn’t such a coward, Dean.”
“I don’t,” said Dean, with quite a laugh. “You are just the sort of coward I like—sticking to your comrade like this. Think I want you to be one of those brave fellows who would run away, calling murder? But I say, arn’t we a pair of guffins?”
“Oh, don’t talk like that! What do you mean?”
“Well, here we are in the dark.”
“Yes; we had no business to come. We ought to have known that we might be lost here after sundown, and have brought a lantern.”
“Pooh! Who was going to expect that Pig and Mak were going to dodge us like they did? But all the same we did show some gumption, only we let ourselves get our heads full of fancies; and here have we been standing in the dark all this time with each a box of matches in his pocket.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Mark.
“You get yours,” continued Dean. “I am all right now, and I don’t want to risk slithering off into the cold wet water.”
Scratch!
There was a faint line of phosphorescence giving its pallid gleam for a few moments; then the rattle as of matches being moved about in a tin box, another scratch, a line of light, and then a very faint dull spark seemed to descend and become extinct in the water beneath.
“Try again,” said Dean.
Scratch!
The same line of light, and the phosphorescent tip of the match going down again to expire in the water.
“Hope you have got plenty of matches,” said Dean.
“Yes, plenty,” cried Mark, making the rattle in the box again.
“You must have got them wet somehow.”
“No, no,” cried Mark impatiently. “It is my fingers that are so moist with perspiration.”
“What a bother! I’d have a try, but my hands are regularly wet. The stones down here are dripping and oozing.”
“Don’t you stir,” cried Mark. “I’ll try again, and give my fingers a good rub first on my sleeve.”
“Yes, do; and mind you don’t touch the round tip of the match.”
“I’m afraid I must have done so to all of them.”
“Afraid be hanged!” said Dean impetuously. “What is there to be afraid of? Now, don’t hurry. I’m getting as cool as a dessert ice; and you are getting better, arn’t you?”
“Ye–es.”
“Well, it doesn’t sound like it. You don’t seem to be yourself, old chap. You know I always look up to you as being more plucky than I am. Here we are getting better every minute, and there is nothing to hurry about. They won’t begin the supper till we get back. Leave the matches alone for a minute or two and give a good hail. They must be looking for us.”
“No, no; I can’t shout now.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. There, I must strike another match.”
“No, you mustn’t. Give a good hail.”
“I can’t, I tell you.”
“Well, I can,” cried Dean. “I don’t feel a bit frightened of bogeys now.”
“Ahoy–y–y–y–y!” he shouted, and there was a hollow echoing noise, but nothing approaching what they had heard before.
Then they listened till the reverberations died out; but there was no hopeful sound to cheer them, and with a low despairing sigh which he tried in vain to suppress, Mark drew another carefully selected match across the side of the box. This time there was a flash, the head of the tiny wax taper blazed out, illumined the square hole into which Dean had slipped, and revealed him about a dozen feet below where his cousin was holding the match.
“Quick!” cried Dean. “Get another out and light it before you burn your fingers. Well done—that’s the way! Hold it more over. I want to reconnoitre, as the soldiers say.”
“Be careful!” panted Mark. “Mind you don’t slip.”
“Trust me,” said Dean. “No, no, don’t light another. It will only be waste, because I have seen it all.”
“I had better light another match,” cried Mark hoarsely.
“No, you hadn’t. Chuck that down; you are burning your fingers.”
The still burning end of the tiny taper lit up the sides of the square hole as it descended to the surface of the water and was extinguished with a faintspet.
“Now then,” cried Dean, “I have got it all fixed at the back of my eyes like what old Buck calls a fortygraff, and just where I am standing it is all straight up and down, but a little way to the left there’s a regular set of holes just as if stones had been left out. Why, it’s as easy as kissing your hand. This must have been one of the old temple wells, and these holes must have been left like steps for the old people to come down and clip their water.”
“Oh, do take care!” cried Mark.
“Won’t I just! I shall be all right. I say, old chap, what a lark!”
“Lark!” cried Mark angrily. “What do you mean by that?”
“Why, it seems to me quite comic to think that we two fellows, who ought to have known better, should have made such a hullabaloo about nothing at all. Oh, I say, isn’t it lucky that nobody else was here! I wouldn’t—”
“Ah!” gasped Mark, as there was a faint rattling of bits of stone, andplish, plash, plosh, three fragments dropped into the water.
“All right, sonny,” said Dean, who had shifted his position and begun to climb. “I amen route; no tree roots here, though, but plenty of stony holes. Clear the course, for up I come!”
The boy spoke cheerily enough, but his words were accompanied by a faint panting as if he were making great exertion.
“I say, though, Mark,” he went on, “how about your brave British boy? How about your manly pluck? Pretty pair we have been! All right, old man; I didn’t slip. It was a stone. Ah!” ejaculated the boy, with a cry of pain.
“Oh, Dean!”
“Don’t! It’s all right, I tell you. Do you want to frighten me off?”
“No, no, no. But you cried out.”
“Enough to make me. I must have twisted my ankle a bit, and it gave me such a stab just then. All right—better. Up I come. What was I talking about? Oh, I know. But I say, Mark, don’t you feel like a gallant young Briton, ready to face any danger?”
“No, I don’t,” cried Mark angrily. “I feel like a miserable coward;” and he uttered a hysterical sob as he passed his wet hand over his dripping brow.
“Do you?” said Dean coolly. “Well, that’s about what’s the matter with me; only this is rather hard work, and I am too busy to squirm. Brave British boys! Ha, ha! Well, I suppose every chap feels a bit soft sometimes. I say, say something.”
“Oh, take care, old chap!”
“Well, I am doing that. Say something else.”
“I can’t!” groaned Mark.
“That’s enough,” cried Dean excitedly. “I can’t see, but I can hear that my head must be a bit out of this hole, and— Quick! Hand!”
The last two words were ejaculated wildly, and Mark responded by making a snatch in the direction he felt that his cousin must be, and caught him fast, throwing himself backward. There was a rush and the fall of a heavy stone with a tremendous splash; then no sound but a hoarse breathing from two chests.
“Hah!” ejaculated Dean. “That last stone must have grown mouldy, and gave way; but it’s all right. Now for a rest. Shouldn’t like to do that again.”
Then there was profound silence for the space of a few minutes as the two lads knelt there clinging to each other in the profound darkness, thinking of many things; and the thoughts of both had the same trend, the grips of their hands involuntarily growing tighter the while.
How long they knelt there, communing, giving their better feelings full sway, neither knew, but at last the silence was broken by Mark whispering, “Dean, old fellow; what an escape!”
“Don’t, don’t!” was whispered back. “Don’t speak to me, or I shall break down.”
“Ah!” sighed Mark, and there was silence again, broken this time by Dean.
“I can’t help it, Mark, old fellow. I have been trying so hard; but I must be a terrible coward. Tell me, oh, do tell me! Am I safe?”
The answer came faintly from apparently some distance away, in the shape of a sailor’s, “Ahoy–y–y–y!”
“Yes,” cried Mark excitedly. “That’s old Dan’s voice. They are looking for us. Ahoy–y–y–y!” he shouted, with his voice sounding strangely cracked and wild.
Quite a minute elapsed before they heard another hail, and by this time the two boys had pulled themselves together a bit, enough to respond with double the vigour of before, while ere many minutes had passed a steady interchange of calls made the task of the searchers so easy that the gleam of a lantern appeared, to be followed by the report of a gun, and this time there was a perfect volley of the strange echoes.
“Hear that?” cried Dean, in his natural voice.
“Hear it? Yes?”
Dean uttered a gasp as if he were swallowing something that was hard, and then with a laugh he said, “Mark, old chap, isn’t it queer! That seems to be the jolliest sound I ever heard in my life.”
“Yes,” said Mark coolly; “but we have got a long walk before us, and no end of stones to climb, and I expect we shall get into a precious row.”
“Never mind the row, old fellow. I wonder what they’ve got for supper!”