I was wondering whether this gorge would end by opening out upon some plain, through its being but a gap or pass through a range of hills, but concluded that it would grow deeper and darker, and bring us face to face with a second waterfall, and I whispered to the doctor my opinion; but he did not agree with me.
“No,” he said, “the gorge is rising, of course, from the way in which the river rushes on, but there can be no waterfall this way or we should hear it. The noise of the one behind us comes humming along this rocky passage so plainly that we should hear another in the same way. But don’t talk, my lad. Look to your footsteps and mind that we have no accident. Stop!” he exclaimed, then, “Halt!”
I did not know why he called a halt just then in that narrow dangerous place, but it seemed that he heard a peculiar sound from behind, and directly after Aroo closed up, to say that the enemy were following us, for he had heard them talking as they came, the smooth walls of the rocks acting as a great speaking-tube and bearing the sounds along.
“That’s bad news, my lad,” said the doctor, “but matters might be worse. This is a dangerous place, but it is likely to be far more dangerous for an attacking party than for the defenders. Our guns could keep any number of enemies at a distance, I should say. Better that they should attack us here than out in the open, where we should be easy marks for their arrows.”
“I do wish they’d leave us alone,” said Jack Penny in an ill-used tone. “Nobody said anything to them; why can’t they leave off?”
“We’ll argue out that point another time, Jack Penny,” said the doctor. “Only let’s get on now.”
“Oh, all right! I’m ready,” he said, and once more our little party set forward, the doctor and I now taking the extreme rear, with the exception that we let Aroo act as a scout behind, to give warning of the enemy’s near approach.
And so we went on in the comparative darkness, the only sounds heard being the hissing of the swiftly rushing water as it swept on towards the fall, and the dull deep roar that came booming now loudly, now faintly, from where the river made its plunge.
Twice over we made a halt and stood with levelled pieces ready to meet an attack, but they only proved to be false alarms, caused by our friends dislodging stones in the path, which fell with a hollow sullen plunge into the rushing water, producing a strange succession of sounds, as of footsteps beating the path behind us, so curiously were these repeated from the smooth face of the rock.
Hiss-hiss, rush-rush went the water, and when we paused again and again, so utterly solemn and distinct were the sounds made by the waterfall and the river that I fancied that our friend Aroo must have been deceived.