The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 73

"So they are!" cried Jem. "Why, Mas' Don, that there don't mean a fight, do it?"

"I don't know, Jem. But they can't see us, can they?"

"No. These here bushes shades us. Let's creep back through the wood, and go and tell 'em down below. They don't know, p'r'aps, and we may get there first."

"We must," said Don quickly. "Jem, I'm sure of it. You can see the spears quite plainly, and perhaps it's a war-party out from some other tribe. Quick, lad, quick! We can get there first."

"And if it's a false alarm, they'll laugh at us, Mas' Don."

"Let them. They won't laugh if there's danger in the way."

Don caught up the basket and backed into the shelter of the trees, keeping in a stooping position, while Jem followed, and now, with all the sensation of indolence gone, they hurried along the rugged and dangerous path, to spread the alarm in the village far below, where they had left the inmates dreaming away their existence in happy ignorance of the danger so close at hand.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

A PERILOUS DESCENT.

The heat was terrible, and it seemed to Don as if the difficulties met with in their outward journey had been intensified on their return.

Thorns caught in their garments, and, failing these, in their flesh.

Twice over Jem stepped a little too much off the faint track, and had narrow escapes of plunging into pools of hot mud, whose presence was marked by films of strange green vegetation.

Then they mistook their way, and after struggling along some distance they came out suddenly on a portion of the mountain side, where to continue their course meant that they must clamber up, descend a sheer precipice of at least a hundred feet by hanging on to the vine-like growths and ferns, or return.

They stopped and stared at each other in dismay.

"Know where we went wrong, Mas' Don?" said Jem.

"No; do you?"

"Not I, my lad. Think it must ha' been where I had that last slip into the black hasty pudding."

"What shall we do, Jem? If we go back we shall lose an hour."

"Yes! Quite that; and 'tarn't no good to climb up here. I could do it; but it's waste o' time."

"Could we get down here?"

"Oh, yes," said Jem drily; "we could get down easy enough; only the thing is, how should we be when we did get down?"

"You mean we should fall to the bottom?"

"Well, you see, Mas' Don," said Jem, rubbing one ear as he peered down; "it wouldn't be a clean fall, 'cause we should scrittle and scruttle from bush to bush, and ketch here and s.n.a.t.c.h there. We should go right down to the bottom, sure enough, but we might be broke by the time we got there."

"Jem, Jem, don't talk like that!" cried Don angrily. "Do you think it possible to go down?"

"Well, Mas' Don, I think the best way down would be with our old crane and the windla.s.s tackle."

"Do you dare climb down?"

"Ye-es, I think so, Mas' Don; only arn't there no other way?"

"Not if we want to save them down at the village."

"Well, but do we want to save 'em, Mas' Don? They're all werry well, but--"

"And have been very kind to us, Jem. We must warn them of danger."

"But, lookye here, Mas' Don, s'pose it arn't danger. Pretty pair o'

Bristol noodles we shall look, lying down at the bottom here, with all our legs and arms broke for nothing at all."

Don stood gazing at his companion, full of perplexity.

"Think it is real danger, Mas' Don?"

"I'm afraid so. You heard Tomati say that there were desperate fights sometimes."

"Don't call him Tomati; I 'ates it," growled Jem. "Well, I s'pose it is danger, then."

"And we must look the matter in the face, Jem. If we go back those people will be at the village before us. Perhaps we shall meet them, and be made prisoners; but if we go on here, we shall save an hour, perhaps two. Yes, I shall climb down."

"No, no; let me go first, Mas' Don."

"Why?"

"Because I shall do to tumble on if you do let go, or any bush breaks."

"Here seems to be about the best place, Jem," said Don, without heeding his companion's last remark; and, setting his teeth, he lowered himself down, holding on by the bushes and aerial roots of the various tough, stunted pieces of vegetation, which clung to the decomposing volcanic rock.

Jem's face puckered up as he set his teeth, and watched Don descend a few feet. Then, stooping over, he said cheerily,--

"That's the way, Mas' Don; take it cool, stick tight, and never think about the bottom. Are you getting on all right?"

"Yes."

"That's your sort. I'm coming now."

Jem began to whistle as he lowered himself over the edge of the precipice, a few feet to Don's right; and directly after he began to sing merrily,--

"'There was a man in Bristol city, Fol de rol de riddle-lol-de-ri.

And that's the first o' this here ditty, Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.'

"Say, Mas' Don, 'tarn't so bad, after all."

"It's terrible, Jem!" panted Don, "Can we do it?"

"Can we do it? Ha, ha, ha!" cried Jem. "Can we do it? Hark at him!