It was too dark to see much when they stopped again, but they could feel plenty of rough pieces of stone beneath their feet, and the place was narrow enough to make the chances of a successful defence greater.
“It’s an ugly job, Mr Jack, sir,” said Ned, “and I feel precious shaky about my throwing, though there was a time when I’d hurl a cricket-ball with any man I knew. If they think they’re coming nobbling us about with their war-clubs and getting nothing back, they’re precious well mistaken, so scuffle up all you can, and— Oh! Murder!”
Ned dropped down on his face, and Jack crawled against the wall, for at the first attempt made to pull a stone from a heap there was a sharp rustling sound, a little avalanche of fragments was set in motion, and they fell with a tremendous splash into some subterranean natural reservoir; a loud reverberation followed, and instantaneously, as the echoes went bellowing out through the passage by which the fugitives had entered, there was a strange rushing fluttering, and the sound as of a roaring mighty wind unchained from some vast chasm where it had lain at rest.
Jack felt the wind touching him as it passed. Then in a flash he knew that it was caused by the beating of thousands of wings, and then, with his heart beating heavily, he was listening to an outburst of shrieks and yells, and lastly nothing was to be heard but Ned groaning and muttering:
“Oh dear! oh dear! it ’d frighten any man, let alone a poor chap who’s been wounded mortal bad!”
A few minutes of time only were occupied by the whole of what took place, from the first rattle of the stones to Ned’s piteous ejaculations, and Jack crouched there listening till the poor fellow exclaimed—
“Mr Jack, sir, where are you? Don’t say you’re dead.”
“No, Ned, I won’t.”
“Oh, my dear lad, where are you then?” gasped the poor fellow wildly.
“Here, quite safe; but don’t move, there must be a terrible gulf close beside you.”