“On purpose to frighten the living? No, Smith, I do not. It is an insult to the greatness of nature and the whole scheme of creation.”
“Well, sir, speakin’ as a man as couldn’t help feelin’ a bit uncomfortable here in the dark with on’y one looficer in his pocket, it does me good to hear you say that, though it is a bit higher up than I can quite reach with my head. You’ve made me feel a deal better, for it aren’t nice to think as there’s anything o’ that sort to upset you when the place is quite bad enough without.”
“Of course it is,” said Oliver. “Come on now. Shall I lead, or will you?”
“You, please sir, and what do you say to keepin’ hold o’ hands?”
“I was going to propose it. Here’s mine.”
Smith grasped the extended hand, and Oliver started off at once, making his way cautiously to the edge of the river, and then, as a boy might along the kerbstone of a street, he kept on passing his right foot along, till at last they stood in the profound darkness, listening to the thundering echoing roar of the falling water reverberating from the hollow roof and rising and sinking in booming deep diapasons till there were moments when it seemed to their stunned ears like a burst of strange wild giant music.
They stood for long enough together there, feeling that they were quite at the edge where the water-worn lava formed an angle, thinking, with many a shudder, that if poor Wriggs had fallen from where they stood, they could never by any possibility see him again.
At last Oliver drew his companion back, and, placing his lips to the man’s ear, shouted to him that it was of no use to stay there, and they had better return to the portion of the cavern round the angle where they could speak to each other.
“You be leader going back,” said Oliver.
“But I aren’t sure which way to go, sir,” shouted back Smith.