"It means starvation," said Melton bitterly. "Those lions came down from the open air to drink. That hole in the rocks led out of the cavern, I have no doubt, and we could have followed it up and perhaps found food, or we might even have abandoned the cavern entirely and finished our journey on top of ground. We must be close to the coast now."
This statement of what "might have been" sent their spirits down to the lowest ebb. They realized that Melton was undoubtedly right. Safety had actually been within their grasp, but the lions had driven them off, and now they were doomed to almost certain death by starvation. Even had they chosen to go back and risk the chances it was too late, for the current had taken them far from the spot, and the sandy shores had given way to perpendicular walls of rock.
The torch continued to burn brightly, a piece of extravagance that called forth no rebuke.
The journey continued amid unbroken silence. Sir Arthur and Bildad were both asleep, though it was no peaceful slumber, to judge from their restless tossings.
Sir Arthur's illness had now lasted a week. It was more of a nervous attack than anything else, but without food it was hopeless to look for recovery. He was extremely weak, and lay most of the time in a stupor.
The painful bruises Guy had sustained kept him awake much longer than the rest, but at last he too fell asleep.
Thus several hours passed away, and they awoke in utter darkness. The torch had burnt out during the night, but Guy recklessly lit another.
The river was flowing rapidly among scattered rocks, and as the raft approached a jagged ledge that cropped up from the water, a dark object was seen clinging to it.
"Why, it is our lost canoe," said Forbes as they drew near. "Help me catch it, Chutney. We will pass close to it."
The raft struck the edge of the rocks, and as it swung round with the current they grasped the end of the canoe and pulled it on board.