He ran his hand over the bandolier, loosened the cartridges, and let his fingers curl round the trigger again.
A gust of wind blowing through some fissure shrieked amid the heights as if terrified at having wandered into such a prison, then for a long time the old sounds continued to make sport in the vaults and tunnels without any interruption.
Then Venning suddenly woke, and Mr. Hume was in a fever to keep the boy's mind occupied, and to get him asleep again.
"Drink this," he said, picking up the calabash, "and go to sleep again."
Venning took a long drink, "I dreamt I was by the sea, listening to the waves. It was almost as good as being home again."
"That's right. It's the sound of water. Go to sleep again and dream of old England, the best medicine you could have."
"I think I will," said Venning; and, with a sigh, he pulled the kaross over him, being too tired out to wonder how it came there.
"Sleep well, lad, sleep well;" and the big hand rested on the boy's shoulder to comfort him with its touch, but the man's face was turned with a straining expression towards the exit which he had last inspected, for it seemed to him that he had seen a streak of light, such as would be thrown in advance by a torch.
To his relief. Venning dropped off once more into a deep slumber, and he bent forward, alert in every fibre. He was not mistaken. There was a light over in the dark, not a light that sparkled, but a greenish glow, not unlike the eye of an animal as seen at night in the reflection of a bull's-eye lantern. It moved, too, like the eye of an animal, and presently other lights gathered around and at the back, giving off no radiance, not bright enough to throw up into relief the objects that produced them, but watchful, like the eyes of a pack of wild-dogs regarding their prey. The Hunter tried an experiment. Feeling for his great knife, he struck a stone, and watched to see if there was any movement of surprise which would indicate that there were living creatures aware of his presence. There was no such movement. Like bits of dull green glass with a light behind, these mysterious points remained as they had been, moving gently as if to the action of respiration. He raised his rifle, tempted to fire under the feeling of nervous suspense that tried his iron nerves, but lowered it at once, with a glance down at the dark form at his side. He would wait; and he sat watching the things, whatever they were, that seemed to be watching him with such cold and silent intentness. Then he made out that they were not animals. The eyes of animals blink, and these did not. Moreover, any animal, however fierce, would turn its eyes away at times; but these remained staring. What were they? He had seen fungus glow like that in the forest, but never so many together. And then he strained his ears to gather from any sound an inkling of their nature, but, beyond the bellowings and the sullen roar, he could hear nothing. How long could he stand the suspense? Already he felt a strong impulse to jump up, to shout, to break up that fixed regard, to come to the death-grapple, if need be, rather than sit there in doubt. The minutes slipped by slowly; each slowly spun its time out, as if every minute were an hour, each hour a week, and the moisture gathered on his brow, when at last the tension was broken.
"Sisters, I smell smoke!"