CHAPTER LXIII.
WE ENTER INTO A CAVERN, THE LIKE OF WHICH NO MAN HAS EVER YET TOLD OF.
No sooner did this new idea come to me than I sprang down the rocks to where our canoe lay, stepped into it, pulled up the stone which served as an anchor, and, in a perfect rage of haste, paddled to that part of the lake where, as I have told, we were like to have been drawn down with the whirlpool.
To this region we had found no occasion to go since our first hazardous voyage thither, there being no woods, but only the high stony mountain. But now, nearing this part, I perceived, with a tumult of joy, a wide cavern in the rock, disclosed by the falling of the water from its previous height: moreover, there was no longer any whirlpool there, but only a gentle current flowing into the cavern, which was the natural efflux of the streams that came down from the mountains. And it can be readily understood that when the waters were swollen so prodigiously as to lie some depth above this cavern, there should be that vast eddy as they were sucked down to find vent by this passage.
Without fear I pushed my canoe to the very edge of the cavern and looked within; and, though the pitchy darkness of it was frightful enough, yet I was comforted by hearing no great noise of tumbling water, nor even the faintest echo, save of a little ripple, which convinced me that I might safely venture therein, with the assurance that I should come to no horrid falls, but reach, in due course, the issue of this stream upon the other side of the mountain. But I could go no further at this time for my impatience to carry comfort to my dear lady. So back I went with as much speed as I had come, and, seeing my dear lady standing at the cavern-mouth, I cried out with all my force for joy. Then, coming all breathless to where she stood in amaze, I essayed to tell her; but for some moments could utter no comprehensible words.
"Why, what is the matter with you, Benet?" says she.
"My little comrade," gasps I, "you shall weep no more. Your cheek shall grow full and rosy again. I have found the means to get from this accursed venomous prison!"
Lady Biddy looked at me in mute amazement, my feverish excitement giving her good reason to doubt whether I was not bereft of my reason; but, to cut the matter short, for 'twas ever to me an easier matter to act than to talk, I begged her to step into our canoe, that I might show her my discovery. This she did without further ado, whereupon I pushed across the lake till we came to the newly-found cavern, and there cast out our anchor of stone, that we might examine the entrance at our ease.
"There," says I, pointing into the grotto—"there lies our road to liberty!"