CHAPTER XVII.—THE BLAST OF A CONCH-SHELL.
The rest was easy. In five minutes the blacks had crawled across, with many fearful glances at the upturned snouts of the huge reptiles below; and Don, treading the springy length of plank with sure foot, had transferred muskets and cutlasses to what he mentally termed “Jack's side” of the chasm. They were now ready for a fresh start.
All this time Bosin had watched their movements with an expression of mingled shrewdness and approval in his restless eyes that seemed to say: “Ha! the very thing I'd do myself were I in the fix you're in.” Again he took the lead, like one who had travelled the road before, and was quite satisfied in his own mind that he knew all its little ins and outs.
His knowledge of the way became more apparent still when, after penetrating the heart of the rock for some distance, the tunnel split into three distinct branches. This point Don hesitated to pass; but not so Bosin. Without a pause he took the passage to the right, glancing back as if to assure himself that he was followed. Off this gallery others opened, until it became evident that, as the captain had once affirmed, the rock was honeycombed “from maindeck to keelson.” But for the monkey's guidance Don must have found himself utterly at a loss amid so perplexing a labyrinth. As it was, he pressed forward with confidence.
Danger of discovery, owing to the multiplicity of passages, now increased momentarily. Any of these ghostly corridors might afford concealment to an enemy who, warned of danger by the muffled echo of approaching steps, might steal away, silently and unobserved, and so raise the alarm. Though still in his stocking feet, Don instinctively found himself treading on tip-toe, while the bare-footed blacks—who were even less inclined for a brush with the enemy than he—purposely did the same. Even then their movements, well-nigh noiseless though they were, caused commotion amongst the bats that clung in patches of living fungi to the vaulted roof, and sent them wheeling hither and thither in swift, startled flight.
To succeed in finding his chum, and to liberate him ere discovery came, was almost more than Don dared hope for. For come it must, sooner or later. Only, once Jack was by his side, he cared little how soon or in what manner it came. True, the natives possessed the seeming advantage of overwhelming numbers; but in these rock corridors the nozzle of a single musket was better than a hundred men.
To do him justice, he had thrust the pearls entirely out of his thoughts in his eagerness to set Jack at liberty. “Time enough to think about the pearls afterwards,” he said to himself—forgetting that “afterwards” was at the best but a blind alley, full of unknown pitfalls.
They were now well into the heart of the Elephant Bock, where any moment might bring them face to face with Jack or his captors, or both.
At this point the monkey, who was some yards in advance, suddenly stopped and uttered a peculiar hissing sound. Once before—when, on the rock platform, Bosin had given warning of the approach of the canoes—had Don heard that hiss. There was no mistaking its significance. He motioned to the blacks to halt, and with stealthy tread crept forward alone.
Just ahead a sharp bend in the passage limited his view to a few yards of indifferently lighted wall. Hugging the inner side of this bend, he presently gained the jutting shoulder of rock which formed the dividing line between the vista of gallery behind and that ahead, and from this point of vantage peered cautiously round the projection in search of the cause of Bosin's alarm.