Chapter Twenty Two.
The Return to Shadow-Land.
Tom was inexhaustible in his schemes, and at the end of three days he had contrived the very thing we required, in a light little raft composed of a few bamboo wands confining together a couple of inflated calf or small heifer skins, which floated lightly on the river like a pair of huge bladders.
“There, Mas’r Harry, what do you say to them, eh? Let all the wind out and double ’em up, cut fresh sticks over there by the cave, blow the bags out again, and there you are fitted up in style.”
“Tom,” I said joyfully, “you’re a treasure!”
“Course I am, Mas’r Harry! And yet you wanted to leave me behind.”
We were off the next morning before daybreak well armed, each carrying a pistol besides our gun, and travelled as rapidly as we could, being pretty well laden; our load being increased this time by better illuminating powers in the shape of rope thickly coated with pitch.
“You’ll take the prog-bag, Mas’r Harry, as soon as we get there; and I’ve brought this bit of rope so as to sling the skin bags over my shoulders,” said Tom.
“All right!” I said, and I nodded assent.
Having the advantage of a little more acquaintance with the road we arrived at the ravine in good time without seeing a soul, walked straight to the blocks in front of the great cave, climbed them, hastened in for some distance, and then sat down in the cool twilight to rest and refresh ourselves, the place being apparently just as we had left it some days before.
It was very laborious work that tramping through a trackless country, but an hour’s rest and a hearty meal sufficed to make us once more eagerly set about our task; Tom now apparently as much excited as myself though without my deep interest. Tom’s idea was that we might discover something wonderful, more singular perhaps than the vast chasm; but his fancies were exceedingly vague, while for my part I studiously preserved silence respecting my own intentions.
As soon as we reached the region of gloom we lit a candle and one torch, but so far, with the increased power of thoroughly illuminating the place, it only served to reveal the vastness of the awe-inspiring cave we were traversing.
Our progress was necessarily slow, but at last we stood over the arch from whence issued the stream, when, moved by a strange feeling of attraction, I left Tom busily preparing the raft while I walked forward with the torch to stand at last upon the rocky cape projecting over the awful gulf, and there stood holding the light above my head trying to penetrate the gloom.
But my endeavours were vain; above, beneath, around, the torch shed a halo of faint light, beyond that all was intense blackness, from out of which came the whisperings, murmurings, and roarings, evidently of water, but which the imagination might easily have transposed into the mutterings of a vast and distant multitude.
With an involuntary shudder I turned away, thinking of the consequences of a sudden vertigo.
Tom was busy with knife and rope, and kneeling down I helped him, puffing into the skins till almost breathless; but at last our task was done, and together we carried the little raft down to the water-side, though not without several slips, launched it, and then placed upon it our lights stuck in lumps of clay brought for the purpose.
The raft was about six feet long by four feet wide; the skins supporting light sticks of bamboo well secured to them, and these in their turn bearing cross pieces laid in their places, so that the light vessel’s deck, if I may call it so, was a sort of bamboo grating, upon which we could sit, though standing would have been a puzzling gymnastic exercise.
We were ready then at last; but now the same feeling seemed to pervade both as we stood there on the rock gazing before us at the black arch, through which, flowing easily, came the inky water. From where, from what strange regions?
