“Thank you, Mr Lennox,” said Roby coldly. “I will give the necessary orders.”
“I beg pardon, sir,” said Lennox, drawing back; but as he glanced aside he saw that the sergeant was busy with the end of the rope, fastening it to the handle of one of the lanterns, and the man who had slipped it off his shoulder was rapidly uncoiling the ring.
“Anybody got a flask?” said Dickenson. “We might send him down a reviver with the light.”
But there was no reply, flasks being rarities at Groenfontein, and such as there were did not contain a drop. By this time the lantern was ready, and Sergeant James glanced at the captain, who signed to him to lower away.
Directly after, the descending lantern was lighting up the sides of the gulf, which were not six feet apart; but how far the great crack-like place extended they could not see, the light penetrating but a little distance, and then all was black darkness, out of which, from far below, there came up the murmuring, gurgling rush of the running water.
As for the lantern, as soon as it was lowered down it ceased swinging, coming with a sharp tap against smooth rock which went downward in a pretty regular slope, but so steep that the lantern lay upon its side and glided down as fast as the men could pay out the rope.
“I sha’n’t have length enough, I’m afraid, sir,” said the sergeant, who leaned over the edge.
“Then why didn’t you bring more?” cried the captain angrily.
The sergeant was silent, and grate! grate! grate! the lantern went on down over the rock face, which sparkled with moisture, for an exceedingly thin sheet of water glistened and went on wearing it down as it probably had from the time the great kopje cavern was formed.
But still there was no sign of the missing man—nothing but glistening rock, and beyond that darkness.