THE JOURNEY ON THE LAKE.
In the deep silence all heard distinctly the low, steady dip of a paddle.
“Be ready with a match,” whispered Guy. “When the canoe comes opposite, light the torch and I will cover the fellow with my rifle.”
The sound grew louder and plainer, and Melton’s finger was already trembling on the match when a terrific splash echoed over the water, followed instantly by a most awful and heartrending wail of agony, that caused every one to shudder from head to foot.
Perfect silence ensued, and the dip of the paddle was no longer heard. With nervous haste Forbes lit the torch, and the sudden light revealed an empty canoe floating bottom up a few yards out in the stream.
They paddled quickly alongside, and leaning over Guy turned the drifting boat right side up.
It was empty, of course. The contents had gone to the bottom, and near the center the frail sides, seen plainly in the torchlight, were actually crushed inward like a shattered eggshell.
Where was the occupant of a moment before? What tremendous force had wrought this havoc?
The current carried them on and on, but no one spoke; no one dared utter the thoughts that were in his mind.
At last Guy said in faltering tones, “Nothing but a serpent could have inflicted that injury to the canoe.”
“That was the meaning of the splash,” replied Melton. “The huge coils must have been thrown around it. The poor fellow had only time for one cry when he was dragged out.”
“Then the serpent must have been following us down the river,” cried the colonel. “I supposed he was dead after that bullet lodged in his neck.”
“That serpent is dead,” said Forbes solemnly, “or I should never have escaped from his coils. This is another serpent. The river must be the abode of many like them.”
This alarming statement was unfortunately only too likely to be true. Sir Arthur was terribly distressed, and prophesied a speedy reappearance of the monster and a fate similar to that of the poor savage in store for them all.
His anxiety was shared by his companions, though not expressed as openly, and all possible haste was made to get away from the horrible spot.
A brief search was carried on in hopes of finding the lost provision bags, but, with the exception of a single floating paddle, nothing was picked up. The bags must have sunk with the lamp and oil-flask.
Nothing was seen of the other canoe—the one originally taken by the savage—and they came to the conclusion that it had been purposely abandoned farther up the river.
The balance of that day they traveled with a dread sense of impending danger. The terrible scene so recently witnessed had left an ineffaceable impression, and by tacit consent they paddled in silence, afraid of the sound of their own voices.
The river had suddenly become narrow, and ran with dizzy speed between two rocky walls that reflected on both sides the glow of the torch which Sir Arthur carried in the stern.
Half a dozen times they dashed through brawling rapids, but no mishap occurred, and, as their increasing drowsiness warned them that night was close at hand, they succeeded in finding a landing-place on the left shore which offered some protection until morning.
A small quantity of wood still remained, and with this a fire was kept burning all night, while they took turns at guarding the camp, for after the recent events they no longer dared to sleep unprotected and in utter darkness.
The scant amount of food now remaining was a source of great uneasiness, but Chutney infused fresh hope into the party by the confident prediction that if the present daily rate of speed were maintained the supply would last until the end of the journey.
Already the pure air of the cavern had done wonders for Sir Arthur and the colonel, and they had nearly recovered their usual health and strength. The one canoe held them all very comfortably, and they seemed to make better progress than when they had been divided into separate parties.
That night nothing occurred to cause any alarm, and they resumed the cruise in fairly good spirits. The river still continued narrow and the current swift. No dangerous water was encountered, and everything was going on satisfactorily when Guy suddenly shouted with all his might, “Back water! Quick! quick!” and looking ahead they saw a steep rocky promontory, against which the current split and swung off into two channels, one to the right, the other to the left.
In spite of their utmost efforts they continued to float down inch by inch.
Which was the proper channel? It was a puzzling problem on which perhaps hung life and death. There was no time for consideration, and under the circumstances Guy adopted the only possible course.
“Head the canoe straight for the center of the rock and let her drift,” he cried. “The current shall decide for us.”
This was instantly done and they drifted with perfect accuracy straight for the splitting point in the stream.
For a moment it looked as though they would be flung against the rocks and upset, but as the canoe reached the turning-point it trembled an instant in the balance and then darted headlong into the channel to the right.
“A good omen,” cried the colonel. “The river Juba lies on our right. This must be the proper channel.”
It was a very narrow channel, at all events, and a very swift one, too, for the rocky walls on either side were almost close enough to touch with the paddles, and they were moving at a dizzy rate of speed.
“There are rapids below us,” said Forbes. “I can hear them dimly.”
Melton’s hearing was unusually acute, for as yet the rest could hear nothing, but in a few seconds the distant roar was audible to all, and it grew ominously louder with every second.
They grasped the sides of the canoe in anxious suspense—for it was useless to paddle—and the angry waters were almost in sight, when Sir Arthur dropped his torch, and instantly they were plunged in total darkness.
No time remained to strike a fresh light. The sullen crash of the waters drowned the sound of their voices, and the canoe blindly took its own course and they felt the chill spray spattering their faces.
“Bump, bump, bump,” went the quivering boat, grinding and crashing on loose rocks, and then with one terrific lurch, that sent them sprawling on their knees, the violent tossing subsided and the choppy waves smacked the bottom of the canoe.
With some difficulty Guy lit a fresh torch, and its light revealed a strange condition of things.
No shore was visible on either side, and overhead was empty space instead of the low lying roof that always met their gaze.
“We are no longer moving,” cried the colonel in astonishment.
“Impossible!” exclaimed Guy, but on putting his hand in the water all doubt was instantly removed. The canoe was stationary.
They paddled on to the right, to the left, in every direction, but the dark water lay calm and sluggish on all sides.
“We are on a lake,” said Guy. “There is no doubt of it; a vast underground lake.”
“There must be an outlet on the other side, though,” replied Melton. “All we need do is to paddle across and find it.”
“But which is the proper side?” said Canaris. “Are we headed straight now?”
“By Jove, I don’t believe we are,” replied Guy. “I’m afraid we are completely mixed up. We will paddle until we reach the shore, and then follow it till we come to the outlet.”
“Yes, that will do very well,” said the colonel. “The lake cannot be so very large. I wish we had time to complete a survey of it. I should like to make a report to the Royal Geographical Society.”
“I wish the honorable members of the R. G. S. could change places with us,” said Sir Arthur, with a groan. “I have no doubt some of those lunatics would enjoy this beastly hole. There is no accounting for taste, Carrington.”
The colonel made no reply. He was keeping stroke with Chutney’s paddle, sharing with him the outlook ahead. The minutes passed on, but still no signs of any shore.
“It’s a pretty fair-sized lake after all,” said Guy.
“And we are the first white men to navigate its waters,” remarked the colonel solemnly. “This is a wonderful discovery. Our fame as great explorers will be assured if we ever get back to England.”
“Land ahead!” shouted Guy suddenly, and snatching the torch from Sir Arthur, he stood erect as the canoe shot gently toward a dim object that rose from the gloom twenty yards distant. Amid breathless silence the keel nicked the sandy beach and Guy sprang out.
One brief second he held the flaming torch aloft.
Then he turned and tottered with trembling limbs towards the canoe. He tried to speak, but no words came, and his face was pallid and horror-stricken.