Sappers and Miners Part 55

But all was still now, and a curious creepy sensation ran through him and made him shiver with apprehension--a strange, superst.i.tious kind of apprehension, as if something invisible were close to him.

"What a cowardly donkey!" he muttered, for his name was uttered again, and plainly enough it came from Joe.

"Talking in his sleep; and I was ready to fancy it was something 'no canny.' Why I must have been dropping off to sleep, too, and it startled me into wakefulness. This won't do. Sentries must not sleep at their posts."

He began to do what the soldiers call "sentry go." But in a few minutes he grew so weary and hot that he was glad to stop by his sleeping companion, and stand looking down at him lying so peacefully there with his head upon his hand.

"Just as if he were in a feather bed and with a soft pillow under his cheek. Wish I could lie down and have a nap for half-an-hour. I will, and then he can have another."

Gwyn bent down to waken his companion, who just then burst out with a merry laugh.

"Oh, I say, father, you shouldn't," he said. "Just as if I didn't take care. It isn't--"

"Isn't what, Joe?" said Gwyn, softly.

"The wrong bottle. You're always thinking I give you the wrong medicine, and saying it tastes different. Hah!"

He ended with a long deep sigh of content, and lay perfectly silent.

"I can't wake him," muttered Gwyn; and with a weary groan he seated himself once more, supporting his back against the side of the gallery, for he was too weak and tired to stand, and in an instant he was out in the bright sunshine, with the water making the boat he was in dance and the sail flap, as he glided along out of the cave into the open sea.

Then with a violent start he was awake again, drawing himself up and fighting hard against terrible odds, for Nature said that he was completely exhausted, and must rest.

And as he set his teeth and stared hard at the faintly glittering wall opposite, where the great vein of milk-white quartz was spangled with grains of tin, his head bowed down and dropped forward till his chin touched his chest.

Again he sprang up, to prop his head back against the rock, but it had been hacked away so that it curved over and seemed to join Nature in her efforts to master him and force him to sleep, bending down his head and sending it in the old direction, so that his brow seemed heavier than lead, and he bent it lower and lower, while once more he was out on the glittering waters of the sea, the boat bounding rapidly along and all trouble at an end. For the darkness of the cavernous mine was gone, with all its weary horrors--there was nothing to mind, nothing to do, but sink lower and lower in the boat, and rest.

Hard--angular--stony? The granite chipped by hammer and pick felt like the softest down, as Gwyn swayed slowly over to his left, his shoulders rubbing against the wall and his half-braced muscles involuntarily acting in obedience to his will to keep him upright, so that he did not fall, but gently subsided till he was lying p.r.o.ne close to the lanthorn, which shed its faint yellowish light and cast dim shadows which, there in that gloomy spot, looked like a couple of graves newly banked up to mark the spots where the two lads had lain down to die or to be found and live, whichever fate ordained.

Joe must have slept for what was guessed to be a couple of hours; but they had pa.s.sed, and he still slept on, with his rest growing more and more sweet and restful, while for Gwyn there was nothing but profound silence and vacancy. He did not dream--only plunged deeper and deeper into the stupor till six hours had pa.s.sed away, and then the dream came.

A terrible wild dream of being somewhere in great danger--a place from which there was no escape from a dangerous wolf-like beast, which had followed him for hours, and was slowly hunting him down.

And every moment the vision grew more real, and the fierce beast came closer and closer in spite of his efforts to escape--mad, frantic efforts--while every limb was like lead, and held him back so that he might be the monster's prey.

He felt that it was a delusion, and that he must soon wake and find relief; but when he did, the relief did not come for the horrors of the dream were continued in the reality, and his lips parted to utter a wild cry; but lips, tongue, and throat were all parched and dry, and he lay there in an agony which seemed maddening.

There was no question now of where he was, for though it was intensely dark he knew well enough, for he had awakened into full consciousness with every sense unnaturally sharpened, and making things clear. His limbs were like lead still, but it was not from nightmare, for they were numbed and helpless. There was the unpleasant odour of the burnt-out candle, and the sickly smoke hanging about him, as if the light had but lately gone out, and he could hear Joe's stertorous breathing as if he too were in trouble; and simultaneously with it came the knowledge that, after all, the cavernous place out of which the water had been drained was inhabited by strange beasts, one of which had attacked him.

For the moment he was ready to explain it as a form of nightmare, but it was too real. It was the hard stern reality itself. There was the weight upon his chest, but not the heavy inert ma.s.s of a hideous dream, but that of some creature full of palpitating life extended upon him.

He could feel the motion as it breathed, the heavy pulsations of its heart, and, worst horror of all, the hot breath from its panting jaws not many inches from his brow.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

MAN'S GOOD FRIEND.

Gwyn tried hard to cry aloud to his companion for help--to make an effort for life; but for what seemed to him to be a long s.p.a.ce of time he could not stir. At last, though, when he could bear the horror no longer, and just as the creature moved as if gathering its legs beneath it like some cat about to spring, the boy made a sudden heave, and threw the beast from his chest, at the same time struggling to rise and make for where he felt that Joe was lying; but with a strange, hollow cry the animal sprang at him with such force that he was driven backwards, while the creature regained its position upon his chest, and Gwyn lay back half paralysed.

But not from fear. Astonishment and delight had that effect, and, weak and prostrated as he was for some moments, he could not speak.

At last one word escaped from his lips, and in an instant--_throb, throb, throb, throb_--there was a heavy beating on his ribs, a joyous whining sound greeted his ears, and a cold nose and wet tongue were playing about his face.

"Oh, Grip! Grip! Grip!" he sobbed out at last, half hysterical with excitement; and seizing the dog by the neck he held him fast, while Grip burst now into a frantic paroxysm of barking.

"You good old dog, then you have found us," cried Gwyn, as he sat up now and held on tightly to the dog's collar, for fear he should be left again. "Why, there must be someone with him! Here, Grip, Grip, old chap, your master! Where is he, then?"

There was another frantic burst of barking, and Joe's voice was heard out of the darkness.

"What's that? What does it mean? Hi! Ydoll, are you there?"

"Yes, yes. Here's Grip! And--and--they must be--Oh, Joe, Joe, I can't--"

What it was that Gwyn Pendarve could not do was never heard, for he pressed his lips together and clenched his teeth to keep back all sound.

He had no longer any control over himself, and in those anguished moments he felt, as he afterwards declared to himself, that he was acting like a girl.

Joe was nearly as bad, but it was in the darkness and there was no one to witness their emotion, as he too kept silence, fearing to hear even his own voice; so that Grip had the whole of the conversation to himself--a repet.i.tion that at another time would have been monotonous, but which now sounded musical in the extreme.

At last Gwyn recovered his equanimity to some extent, and, taking out the matches, struck one, but the moisture of his fingers prevented it from igniting, and he had to try two more before he could get anything but soft phosph.o.r.escent streaks on the box; and as the damp matches were thrown down, Grip sniffed at them and whined loudly.

Then one flashed out brilliantly, lighting up the darkness, was watched excitedly, and began to blaze up and transfer its illuminating powers to the one candle the boys had left, one which was directly after safely sheltered by the gla.s.s of the lanthorn.

At this point the joy of the dog was unbounded, and was shown in leaps, bounds and frantic barking, accompanied by rushes and sham worryings of his master's legs; and when driven off, he favoured Joe in the same way.

"Only to think of it," cried Joe, "that dog following us and running us down in the dark! How could he have done it? I never heard that dogs could see in the dark like cats."

"They can't," said Gwyn, going down on his knees to give the dog a hug.

"A jolly old chap--they see with their noses; don't you, old Grip?"

"_Whuf_!" cried the dog; and he made a frantic effort to lick his master's face.

"It's wonderful!" cried Joe, excitedly.

"Yes, makes a fellow wish he had a nose like a dog. Why, Jolly, we could have found our way out, then."

"Don't see it," said Joe, who was in a peculiarly excited state, which made him ready to laugh or cry at the slightest provocation.

"Don't see it! Of course you don't. Couldn't we have smelt our way out by our own track, same as he did? But bother all that. Why, Jolly, if I could only feel sure that the dads were safe out, I shouldn't care a bit."

"No; I shouldn't either. Oh, I say, isn't it a relief?"

"Yes, and so I feel all right. They're out: I'm sure of it."

"How do you know?"

"By Grip being here."

"That doesn't prove it."