“That river exists,” said Canaris solemnly. “The Englishman found it.”
“What!” cried Guy and Melton in one breath. “He found the underground river?”
“Yes, he discovered it,” resumed Canaris. “He found it one day while hunting in a concealed cavern. He ventured down and came to a great sandy beach, past which flowed swiftly a broad stream. On the beach lay half a dozen strong canoes with paddles. All this he saw by the light that streamed in from narrow crevices overhead. He went back to the village and began to lay aside provisions for the journey, for he intended making his escape by the river. In a week all was ready. He had concealed near the cavern supplies for a long voyage. The very day fixed for his escape he was sold to a Galla chief who lived twenty miles distant. In the years that followed he made many attempts to escape, but on every occasion was captured and brought back. At last he was given as tribute to the Emir by this Galla chief, and here in this dungeon, on the spot you are sitting on now, he breathed his last.”
Canaris paused and helped himself to a glass of water.
“A strange story, indeed,” said Guy; “but what has it got to do with us?”
“I will tell you,” responded Carnaris, with a slight tremor in his voice. “It may have nothing to do with any of us, and it may be of the greatest importance to us all.”
“Did the old man tell you where to find the cavern?” asked Guy.
“No,” answered Canaris, “but before he died he gave me this,” and, pulling a folded bit of linen from his pocket he handed it to Guy.
“Can you read that?” he asked in strange excitement. “I have never been able to make anything out of it.”
Guy pulled it carefully open and gazed with interest on the faded characters that had apparently been written in blood.