He was about to set the men to work to drag the stones away; but I proposed that the tethering raw-hide ropes of two of the horses should be attached to their saddles and the ends made fast to the great rough slabs of stone. This was done, and the horses set to draw, when one by one a dozen massive pieces were drawn aside, leaving a little opening, through which I dropped a stone, with the result that those who listened heard a deep-sounding plosh! and set up a cheer. Then other two slabs were dragged away, to lay bare a roughly squared hole six feet across, from which the water could be easily drawn up.
“That communicates with our shaft, then?” said Denham to me in a questioning tone.
“No doubt,” I said. “I dare say there are tunnels running in several directions. Did you tell the Colonel about the gold?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “He thinks a good deal more about the water now than he would do about gold. But, I say, do you think it will be good drinking-water?”
“Certainly,” I said. “Gold isn’t copper.”
“Thank you,” he said sarcastically. “I found that out a long time ago. I never could do anything like so much with a penny as I could with a sov.—Here, Sergeant,” he cried as the first water-bag was pulled up, dripping, and with the sound of the water that fell back echoing musically with many repetitions underground, in what seemed to be a vast place. “Water good?”
“Beautiful, sir. Clear as crystal and cold as ice.”
“Then I’ll have a taste,” said the Colonel, coming up. “Excellent!” he continued, after taking a deep draught from the portable cup he took from his pocket. “Now, what are you going to do?”
“Keep on pouring it into that hollow among the stones, sir,” said Denham, pointing to a little depression. Into this one of our makeshift bags was emptied, and the impromptu trough proved quite suitable.
Then the men worked away at lowering and raising the nose-bag buckets, drawing up sufficient in a few minutes for watering half-a-dozen horses at a time.