“He been dead over four months now.”
“How the dickens are these marks so recent then?”
“They very old, boss,” replies the black, and turning away, he lights a match, and boldly leads the way into the black mouth of the natural tunnel, which slopes downwards at an easy incline.
All the men are smokers, therefore provided with the means of producing an impromptu illumination. Claude carries his matches, after the fashion of most settlers in the New Zealand bush, in a small but stout glass bottle,—the moist atmosphere of the Land of Ferns rendering this precaution necessary,—and as he creeps after his black guide, he examines the dark, glossy surface of the walls and roof of the cave, which are covered with ripple-like corrugations. The party has not proceeded far, when Claude slips upon a long, smooth object lying across his path, and as he falls is horrified to hear Billy, who is immediately in front, sing out that a snake has bitten him. In an instant the party are in darkness. Williams has tripped over Angland, and the black boy having leapt wildly upwards against the rock overhead—with a force that would have demolished any but an aboriginal skull—lies rubbing his head where he has rolled to, which is some yards on in advance, for the tunnel descends pretty steeply here.
To be left thus suddenly in perfect darkness, in a steep, subterranean passage, with the dread possibility of coming in contact at any moment with a furious and probably poisonous reptile, which has just bitten one’s companion, is an awkward if not an uncomfortable position to be placed in. But in addition to this our friend Claude has had all his breath crushed out of him by the superincumbent Williams. It is not surprising, therefore, that some seconds, which appear minutes, elapse before a match is struck and a light thrown upon the scene. It is then discovered, to the great relief of poor Billy, and for the matter of that of all three men, that the snake-bite which the dark youth is expecting every moment to prove fatal has been occasioned by Claude, who, stepping upon a dead bough, has caused it to turn over, and inflict a wound upon the black’s hairy calf with the broken end of one of its lateral branches.
A few other pieces of wood being also found lying about, torches are now manufactured; and by the extra amount of light thus procured, the travellers discover that they are following a kind of tortuous, rocky artery, from whose jetty sides numerous vein-like smaller channels open in all directions. In places the tunnel widens, and the red glare of the flames dances upon the polished surfaces of curious, twisted columns, stalactite-like roof pendants, and marvellous bunches of natural filigree-work.
“Well, this is a rum kind of diggings!” exclaims Williams presently. “Did you ever see anything like this before in your travels, Mr. Angland?”
“I was just thinking that it is a sort of black edition of some of the limestone caves I’ve been in,” replies Claude, adding, “But they’re as miserably wet and cold as this is hot and dry.”
The explorers have now been some fifteen minutes in the tunnel, and the white men have decided to return, and prospect the cave further upon the morrow, when Billy, who is some way on ahead, shouts “Daylight!”
A minute afterwards and the party stand blinking their eyes on a kind of undercliff, overhanging another valley, similar in some respects to that which they have already traversed, but smaller in size and with a much fairer aspect. For here and there trees and shrubs are growing amongst the fallen rocks, and these, although stunted and bleached-looking, convey a certain softening effect to the otherwise wildly barren slopes. It is as if the goddess Flora had once smiled into the valley of death long ages ago, and some of the gentle radiance of her glance still remained behind to tell of her passing visit. And there, too, are a couple of wallaby, of the rare black and chestnut kind, skipping noiselessly away from the immediate vicinity of the intruders, to sit motionless upon adjacent boulders, watching with awful tameness the movements of these strange visitors who have come to disturb them in their quiet domain.