All sank to the ground with a first feeling of relief that they had to go no further, except Hume, and he went from side to side, feeling with his hands for some way over this obstacle.
“It is no good,” he cried; “we must halt here and try again to-morrow.”
His words were met by a sound of weeping as Laura, tired out, for the first time gave way to a spasm of sobs which shook her frame and awoke echoes the most melancholy in that profound abyss. This sign of womanly weakness at once restored to the men courage to face this new trouble with cheerfulness, and, deeming it best to leave her to the relief of tears, they busied themselves in making for her a comfortable couch, finding material in a mass of fern which grew at one spot where water oozed from the rock. The dried ferns also served for fuel, and presently the flames flickered up, casting fantastic shadows. They made light of their position, being rewarded by seeing Laura take her coffee, and tasteless damper and tough biltong, with the relish of hunger. Pipes were lit, she rolled a cigarette, and they leant back to gaze up at the stars, now out in all their brilliancy, increased by the darkness from which they looked.
Then, rolling themselves in their blankets, they fell into a profound sleep, in spite of the hard rocks, and were not disturbed until far into the night, when they were aroused by the sound of the wind moaning down the ravine. They drew their covering tighter to shut out the cold, but the noise coming and going in a manner weird beyond the power of words to express, they sat up to listen. Then they found there was no breath of air stirring about them, and that the noise came intermittently in blasts from one direction, being caught up by the echoes and sent booming from side to side. When the echoes rolled away there would be a fresh blast, a wailing note, a gasp as if the wind were struggling in some long funnel, and, mingled with this sound, they fancied there was some human note.
“There is a mystery here,” said Hume, rising.
“It is the wizard of the mountain,” said Klaas, shivering. “His breath will wither your flesh.”
“Oh, hang the wizard!” growled Hume, as he moved off away from the barrier; but the sound came again, rising from a moan to a shrill screech.
They stood to their arms, driven to a pitch of fury by the disturbing noise, until there was light enough to reveal objects at hand, when they peered up at the walls above.
Suddenly the Gaika yelled aloud, and covered his eyes.
“What do you see?” asked Hume sternly.