“The tangi!” cried Upward. “By George! the tangi is down.”
“Hurrah! hurrah!” crowed Lily, clapping her hands. “Let’s go and look at it. Come along, Nesta. Here’s some excitement at last!”
“Wait for the lantern. Wait—wait—do you hear?” cried her mother. “It’s very dark; you might tumble in.”
“Oh, hang the lantern,” grumbled Lily. “The water will have passed by that time, and I want to see it rush out.”
She had her wish, however, for the lantern being quickly lighted, the whole party stepped forth into the rain and the darkness. At first nothing was visible, but as the radius of light struck upon the vertical jaws of the great black chasm, they stopped for a moment, awed, appalled—almost instinctively stepping back.
Forth from those vertical jaws vomited a perfect terror of roaring, raging water. It was more like a vast spout than a mere stream was this awful flood; of inky blackness save where the broken waves, meeting a projection, seethed and hissed; and, amid the deafening tumult, the rattle of rocks, loosened from their bed, and shot along like timber by the velocity of the waters, mingled with the crash of tree trunks against the smooth cliff walls of the rift. In a moment, with a roar like a thunder burst, it had spread itself over the dry face of the nullah, which was now rolling many feet deep of mountainous swirling waves.
For a few moments they stood contemplating the wild tumult by the light of the lantern. Then Mrs Upward, her voice hardly audible through the bellowing of the waters, said:
“Now girls, we’d better go in. It’s raining hard still.”
This drew a vehement protest from Hazel and Lily. It was such fun watching the flood, they urged. What did it matter about a little rain? and so forth. But Tinkles, the little fox terrier, was now barking furiously at something or other unseen, keeping, however, very close to her master’s legs, for all her expenditure of vocal ferocity. Then a voice came out of the darkness—a male voice which, although soft and pleasing, caused Nesta Cheriton to start and cling involuntary to Upward’s arm.
“Huzoor!” (A form of greeting more deferential than the better known “Sahib.”)