“Hold on a moment, sir,” cried the man, who had now set aside his dread of the serpents, and placing his hand to his mouth, he sent forth a tremendous “Mr Lane, ahoy!”
His voice echoed right away into the depths, and set some fragments of stone falling with a low whispering sound but there was no reply.
“Mind!” cried Panton, excitedly, and seizing the sailor’s arm, he jerked him away so roughly, that the man caught his heel and fell backwards over and over among the stones and creeping growth at the mouth of the rift, while Panton himself beat a rapid retreat.
“I see him,” grumbled Smith, “but I warn’t going to him now,” and he rose to his knees, as the wounded serpent so rudely seized by Oliver Lane glided by him, hissing loudly; “I say, never mind that thing now, gents. Come and help Mr Lane.”
A couple of reports came close upon his words, for Drew had fired at the escaping serpent, which now writhed in amongst the bushes, evidently in its death throes.
“Why, here’s t’other bit under me,” said Smith, as he rose to his feet and looked down at where, half hidden, the other serpent had crawled back to its lair to die. In fact the man had fallen upon it, and its soft body had saved him from a severe contusion.
But somehow the horror of the reptile was gone in one far greater, and, trembling with eager excitement, Smith began to make his way cautiously inward again, stepping carefully on till a stone gave way, and fell rattling down what was evidently a very steep slope.
“I shall have to go down,” muttered the man, “I can’t leave the poor lad there. Ah, that’s right!” he cried as Panton’s voice rang out,—“Ropes. Bring ropes.”
“Yes, I may as well have a rope round me,” muttered Smith. Then loudly, “Mr Lane, ahoy!”
There was no answer, and he called again and again without avail. Then a thought striking him, he got out his matchbox, struck a light, lit several, waited till the splints were well ablaze, and let them fall down burning brightly, but revealing nothing.