“A terrible calamity has happened,” he cried in a voice that was strangely unnatural. “I fear we are lost men. Where are the provisions? Where are our torches?”
“By gracious, they are gone!” declared the colonel. “Clean gone!”
It was truly a terrible situation in which they, found themselves. The provisions and the torches had been washed off the raft. If they did not reach the open air in two or three days starvation was certain.
“No,” cried the Greek suddenly, “all hope is not gone. Look! here is a bag that was lying partly under me. It is half full of crackers.”
“And I have three torches in my pocket,” added Sir Arthur. “Bless me if I know how they got there but here they are, anyhow.”
“That scant supply of food may last us to the journey’s end, if used in moderation,” said Guy solemnly. “God grant us a speedy passage to the mouth of the river.”
In spite of Chutney’s brave attempts to cheer them up, the spirits of the party sank very low.
That meager bag of crackers must feed six mouths until they reached the end of the cavern. That event might be in a week, and it might be in a month. The uncertainty and the suspense were terribly trying.
It was some consolation to discover that the river was still flowing very rapidly. The possibility of encountering more rapids they now dreaded but little, for it was very improbable that worse places could exist than that which the raft had navigated so stanchly.
“We must travel night and day,” said Guy, “and in darkness. We have four torches left. Only when we hear the sound of rapids dare we light one of them.”