No sooner was the darkness fairly upon them than Grenville turned short in his tracks and quietly said, “I’m going back, Alf, and I’m going through with this. There’s a secret up there, and I believe it’s a black one, and I’ve no intention of playing into the hands of these rascals by running away.”
“But, my dear boy,” remonstrated Leigh, with a rueful face, “you don’t know your way into the mountain; you aren’t a bird to fly over it, and you’ll only get yourself shot.”
“I believe I do know my way into the mountain, and I hope I shan’t get shot; so come along, old fellow,” replied his cousin.
Grumbling and arguing, Leigh turned to follow, and very soon Grenville imposed the strictest silence upon his companions.
The darkness was now something almost tangible, but after walking—or, rather, feeling—their way at a funereal pace for a couple of hours, the murmur of the waterfall broke upon their ears, and the stars now beginning to grow bright, greater caution than ever became necessary. Soon the trio were flat on the ground, wriggling along like three gigantic lizards over the rough, knobbly rocks, which called forth many a subdued groan from poor Leigh. The advance was, however, continued, all obstacles to the contrary notwithstanding, and in another hour the party lay securely hidden within a stone-throw of the waterfall.
A little later, becoming dissatisfied with his position, Grenville drew his party back some fifty yards under the cover of a rock, and then proceeded to act in a most singular manner. Divesting himself of his hat, jacket, and hunting-shirt, he slipped a brace of six-shooters into his hip-pockets, and, directing Leigh and the Zulu to stay where they where—unless they heard him blow a small whistle, which he always carried—he left the pair wondering at his extraordinary movements, and gradually and cautiously approached the Fall. Arrived there, his conduct became curious to a degree, for, lying flat on the rock, on the very edge of the basin indeed, where the spray from the cataract fell in a continuous and blinding shower, Grenville first commenced feeling about inside the rush of the water at the very back of the Fall, and finally buried himself, head and shoulders, in the water of the basin, frequently raising his head to take breath. After he had expended quite ten minutes in this edifying manner, he gave a grunt indicative of satisfaction, rose dripping wet, and retired into concealment behind the nearest rock, watching the Fall like a lynx.
Soon his patience was well rewarded, for a wonderful and beautiful thing happened. In a single instant the Fall grew gloriously light and beautiful, and the foaming, flashing surface of the water seemed by the touch of some fairy wand transformed into a stupendous rainbow of indescribable loveliness, as the changing lights appeared to come and go through the driving rifts of steaming, gauze-like vapour.
Grenville smiled, and made himself, if possible, still smaller amongst the stones; a slight splashing was heard, and in another moment the light went out suddenly and the Fall resumed its normal appearance—a white, angry-looking streak of sliding foam, clearly outlined against the dark background of rock. And now Grenville could see by the starlight the forms of fully a dozen men who appeared to have sprung from the earth; crouching down, he lay for some moments breathless and motionless as the rocks beneath him, but, hearing no footsteps, and cautiously raising his head, he found no one within his limited range of vision. Hazardous though the act was, Grenville crawled out, snake-like, to the spot where he had seen the strange party take its stand, and, by following the damp feel of the rock where wet footsteps had passed, quickly satisfied himself that the enemy had proceeded down the Pass. Quietly rejoining his anxious friends, he led them back, after a brief consultation, to the basin at the foot of the Fall, into which each silently dropped in turn, and instantly vanished from sight.
A few moments later three dripping, panting forms stood whispering together upon a rocky ledge, which was in fact the entrance to a vast cave, by which, as Grenville had cleverly surmised, their assailants passed through the base of the mountain-range and obtained access to their mysterious country beyond.
The air, though dense with a heavy, noxious odour, was still very refreshing to the party after their dive; but Grenville soon reminded the others that they had no time to lose, and, warning them to look to their arms, ammunition and matches, all of which had been most carefully enveloped in mackintosh ground-sheets, himself proceeded to strike a light. Now the striking of a match is a very trifling affair at ordinary times, but, with a dark and doubtless vast unknown before them, each waited anxiously to see what the tiny flame would reveal. One brief instant it shed its feeble light upon their pallid faces, then, in an endeavour to pierce the apparently limitless gloom, Grenville raised the match above his head, and at that very moment there was a wild, hissing rush, and the cavern stood revealed in a blinding glare of light. The match had evidently ignited by accident a reservoir of natural gas, and this, in the shape of an enormous stream of fire, now hung globe-like from a rift in the roof of rock, where it arched a score of feet above their heads.