“But we saw no falls,” he said, after a few minutes’ thought; “but then we never came quite to this end of the place, and only saw it from a distance. Let’s see; water keeps going down and down, and if I can keep on close by it it’s sure to lead one right into the valley, which looked as if it was completely closed at the upper end.
“So it is,” Chris added, with a pitiful little laugh, “The Indians couldn’t get down—those who were shot did. And so did I; but only after two awful tumbles. Why, it must be a wonder that I am alive. But it killed my poor nag.”
Chris did not talk to himself, but his brain was very active, and he wondered a good deal why it was, as he kept on threading his way over and under stones, with the water acting as guide—why it was that he heard no more calls.
“It must be,” he thought, “that they are quite behind me, while I’m making my way across the end of the valley, so that I shall come out somewhere near the opposite side—if I ever do get out, for the place gets narrower and darker the farther I go.”
Chris had good cause to complain, for from climbing over blocks of stone he had to begin creeping under and between pieces so closely set that there were times when he was ready to give up in despair, and at last the end of his journey seemed to have arrived. For he was brought up short at the mouth of a cavern-like place where the sound of trickling water grew louder and was accompanied by a peculiar whispering echo sounding horribly strange and mysterious, coming as it did out of black darkness.
It took a strong effort to enter the place, but the lad had grown desperate. He was conscious that whatever difficulty there was to encounter he must face it, so bending down and feeling his way by the rough rocky wall, he stepped on very slowly and cautiously, for the flooring of the cavern-like place was of loose stones, beneath which he could hear the water running faster as if nearing its exit, and he knew that if he could not find the opening where the spring ran into the valley, he could come back, for the hidden stream would still be his guide.
He had just comforted himself with this thought—a most welcome one where all was black—when it seemed to him that there was a dull suggestion of light not far ahead, and he took a few more cautious steps with his hands telling him startling news, for he found that the roof was rapidly getting lower, and a few yards farther he had to stoop.
But it was lighter, and hence it was that a little farther on he did not hesitate to crawl, while before he had progressed many feet farther he had to drag himself over the rough stones, which vibrated now from the water flowing about their bases, and then as he dragged himself out into the full light of day it was into the rocky channel of a stream where the water, that must at some time have rushed out as a heavy fall, smoothing the stones on either side, was now invisible, descending as it did for about fifty feet into the valley amongst the rocks, and plunging, mole-like, deep down beneath the surface, as if shunning the light of day.
“Hah!” sighed the lad, as he stood upright and breathed deeply of the soft pure air, for his difficulties seemed to be at an end, nothing remaining for him to do but lower himself down amongst the rocks from the rough ledge upon which he was perched, when his heart leaped at the sound of a familiar voice hailing him with a cheery “Ahoy!”