"There may be a chance, however, of winning through. Hold fast to your goat-skins; and if the hidden river isn't too hot, and if there's head-room, some of us may get through to daylight. Let us try to reassemble where we find the first practicable stopping-place. If the Jannati Shahr men are waiting for us, there, don't be taken alive. Remember!
"Now, give me your hand, each one, and—down the shaft with you!"
Simonds went first, boldly, without a quiver of fear. Silently and with set jaw, he shook hands with the Master, clutched a distended wine-bag in both arms, and quickly leaped.
His body vanished, instantly, from sight. Steam and darkness swallowed it. Far below, a dull splash told of his disappearance.
Lebon followed, after having given his torture-twisted hand to his beloved lieutenant, as well as to the Master.
"Notre Père qui êtes aux cieux!" he stammered, as the pit received him.
Then went Wallace, Ferrara, and Emilio. Of these three, only the last showed anything resembling the white feather. Emilio's face was waxen, with staring eyes reflecting unspeakable horror, as he took the leap into the River of Night. But he went mutely, with no outcry.
Bristol, sheathed in imperturbable British aplomb, remarked:
"Well, so long, boys! This is jolly beastly, eh? But we'll meet on that beautiful shore!"
Then he, too, jumped into the black.