Then he was silent, for the reports were repeated ten times as loudly, and went on reverberating again and again, from farther and farther away, till they gradually grew indistinct and strange, for there was a strange dull roar growing louder and louder till the echoes were drowned, while the roar seemed to come on and on, till without hesitation on anyone’s part we turned and ran splashing out of the stream to the shore, to escape from a dark rushing cloud which came streaming out of the mouth of the cave with screams, hisses, and whisperings, out and away down the narrow ravine till it seemed to be filled with birds and bats, while a strange black-beetly odour assailed our nostrils.
“No doubt about there being plenty of room, lads,” said my uncle, as he laughed at our scared faces, for the sudden rush out was startling.
“Is them owls, sir?” said the carpenter, staring.
“No, no,” replied my uncle; “they are something of the goat-sucker tribe—night-birds which build in caves; but a good half of what we see are bats.”
“Yes, I can see they’re bats, sir, and the biggest I ever did see. Well, they won’t hurt us, sir?”
“No, but they’re terribly afraid we shall hurt them,” said my uncle. “Well, Nat, what do you say? Shall we explore the underground river?”
I felt as if I should like to say, “No, I would rather not,” but the pride within me made me take the other view of the matter.
“Yes,” I said, “of course,” and the sense of unwillingness was forgotten in the desire to laugh at the look of horror in Pete’s face as he stared appealingly from one to the other.
“You won’t mind, Cross?” said my uncle.
“No, sir; I should like it,” replied the man.