“What is the matter?” cried his master angrily.
“Shure I towld ye so. A great big thing, wid awful black wings, flew at me and bit at me face, sor, and I belave he’d ha’ killed me if I hadn’t put me light out so as he shouldn’t see where I was.”
“Oh, Dinny, Dinny. If I were you I wouldn’t be frightened of a bat,” cried Dick.
“An’ is it freckened of a bat I’d be, Masther Dick? I tell ye it was a great big thing as large as a man, wid long black wings, an’ it sent a shudder all through me, sor, to see the great baste come at me.”
“Which did you see, Dinny, the bat or the shadow?” asked Dick.
“Ah, ye’re laughing at me,” said Dinny; “but wait a bit and ye’ll see.”
Dinny’s torch was fished out of the water, and after a good deal of beating and shaking to get rid of the moisture they managed to get it to burn once more, when Jack volunteered to carry it, and Dinny grumblingly took his place in the rear.
“Ah,” he muttered, in Dick’s hearing, “it’s a dirthy counthry this Afrikky. Wild bastes, and shnakes, and holes under the airth. Faix, it isn’t fit for a dacent boy to live in at all.”
Dinny and his mutterings were little heeded, and they went on and on through the interminable place, following its windings and zigzag turns, where the rock had split, till they were tired, and Dick said that they had seen no more during the last hour than during the first five minutes, for the place was almost all alike—one great jagged rift with the little stream flowing over the floor. Now the roof looked far above them in the gloom, and now again it was close enough to crush their heads, while by the same rule there were times when they could touch the walls on either side by stretching out their hands, while at others the sides receded so that the space was quite a chamber.
“Well, then,” said Mr Rogers, “suppose we turn back. Dinny, as you are last now you’ll be first going back, and ought to make a good leader; so take the light.”