Chapter Twenty One.
The Black Arch.
Dreadful place indeed!
“They cannot have thrown any treasure down there,” I mentally exclaimed the next moment. “It must be somewhere recoverable.”
“Say, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom then, “hadn’t we better get back?”
“Are you afraid, Tom?” I said.
“Well, no, Mas’r Harry, I ain’t afraid; but I am nearer to being so than ever I was in my life. ’Taint fear, only one of my knees will keep going shikery-shakery, and my teeth have took it into their heads to make believe it’s cold, and they’re tapping together like the lid of a kettle in boiling time. But I ain’t a bit afraid.”
“It’s an awful-looking place, Tom,” I said, “and enough to make any one shudder.”
“’Tis that, Mas’r Harry—’tis that indeed!” said Tom earnestly. “And if I believed in ghosts and goblins I should say as this was the shop where they was made. But—but, Mas’r Harry, what’s that?”
I turned round hastily to look in the direction in which we had come, to see plainly a shadowy-looking form flitting, as it were, out of sight in the dim obscurity, and a feeling of tremor came over me as I thought of our peril should we be attacked now, standing, as we were, with certain death behind and on either side; and determined that, if we were to encounter an enemy, it should be upon less dangerous ground, I called to Tom to follow me; and holding my dim light well in front, began to retrace my steps in the direction of the entrance, when there was a loud echoing cry from behind. I felt a violent blow in the back which dashed me to the ground, and in an instant our candles were extinguished and we were in darkness.
For a few moments I felt paralysed, expecting each instant that I should have to grapple with an enemy; but, save for the whisperings and the distant roar of water, all was silent till Tom spoke.
“Have you got the flint and steel, Mas’r Harry?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “But what was the meaning of that blow and that cry?”
“It was me. I stumbled, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom, “for there was a black thing like a devil’s imp flew up out of the big hole and hit me in the face. But pray get a light, Mas’r Harry!”
That Tom’s imp was some huge bat I did not for a moment doubt; but after seeing a shadowy figure in front I knew that it was possible that danger awaited us, so, hastily dragging flint and steel from my pocket, I was soon clinking away till a shower of sparks fell upon the tinder; the usual amount of blowing followed, and at last a match was fluttering its blue, cadaverous light, to blaze out soon and enable us to ignite our candles, now burned down very low, when, hastily pursuing our way, we came again without adventure into the great entrance, the daylight being welcome indeed, when we sat down, about fifty yards from the mouth, to partake of some refreshments.
It is surprising what a tonic those provisions and a moderate taste of aguardiente formed. The daylight, too, lent its aid to restore the equilibrium of our nerves, and things wore an entirely different aspect.
“That must have been my shadow, Tom,” I said at last, just as he was indulging in a pipe. “Your light threw it on to the dark curtain of gloom before us. And as for your imp, that was a huge bat.”
“Well, do you know, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom, “I do begin to think that I hollered afore I was hurt. But you know it really is an unked place in there, and wants a deal of getting used to, and I ain’t a bit used to it yet. But don’t you make no mistake, Mas’r Harry; if you want to go in again I’ll go with you, and I can’t say fairer than that.”
“Well, Tom,” I said thoughtfully, “I do want to go in again, for I’m not at all satisfied with my journey. I don’t understand what became of this little river, for of course it must have turned off somewhere this side of the great hole.”
“To be sure it did, Mas’r Harry; I saw where it went off under a bit of a tunnel just before we got to that horrible great place.”
“Then the cavern must branch off there, Tom,” I said. “That must be the part for us to explore.”
“Very good, Mas’r Harry, when you like; but in case of an accident, and I don’t come out any more, I think I’ll tell the truth before I go in: I said I wasn’t, Mas’r Harry, but I was awful scared and cold and creepy, but I think I shall be better this time; so when you’re ready I am.”
I expressed my readiness, and in spite of fatigue we stepped onward again till the darkness compelled us to stop and light candles, when, knowing now that there were no very great perils in the path, we made far more progress, and in a very short time arrived at the spot where Tom had seen that the bed of the stream took a fresh direction.
It was just as he had intimated: it suddenly turned off to the left, but beneath the shelving rock where we stood holding down our candles as far as we could reach; and if we wished to explore farther there was nothing for it but to scramble down some forty feet to where the water ran murmuring amongst the blocks of stone, here all glazed over with the stalagmitic concretion that had dripped from the roof.
I led the way, and with very little difficulty stood at last by the stream, when Tom followed, and we slowly proceeded along its rocky bed till at the end of a few yards we came to the turn where it came gushing out of a dark arch, some six feet high and double that width, the water looking black and deep as it filled the arch from side to side, running swiftly—a river of ink in appearance.
“Tom,” I said dreamily, “we must explore this dark tunnel.”
“Very well, Mas’r Harry,” he said in resigned tones.
And when a few minutes after I turned to look at him, he was leaning against a rock and removing his shoes and stockings.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Gettin’ ready, Mas’r Harry; so as to have something dry to put on when we come back.”
“But I’m not going to try without boat or raft, Tom,” I said. “We must give it up for to-day.”
Tom said no word but hurriedly replaced his extreme garments, and together we slowly made our way back to reach the light in time to see that the sun was very low down in the horizon, when completely wearied out we sat down to finish our provision, a very easy task, for I had only intended my store for one. But I must give Tom the credit of saying that he would not eat without much pressing, declaring that his pipe would satisfy him.
An hour after we were making our way back to the hacienda with, fortunately for us, a bright moon overhead, but it was nearly midnight before we reached the court-yard.