Through Forest and Stream Part 16

I felt as if I should like to say, "No, I would rather not," but the pride within me made me take the other view of the matter.

"Yes," I said, "of course," and the sense of unwillingness was forgotten in the desire to laugh at the look of horror in Pete's face as he stared appealingly from one to the other.

"You won't mind, Cross?" said my uncle.

"No, sir; I should like it," replied the man.

"Light the lanthorn."

"Shall we take our loads with us, uncle?" I said.

"Certainly. If the way through is short we shall want them at the other side. If it is long we shall want some refreshments on the way."

"But suppose--" I began, and then I stopped.

"Suppose what?" said my uncle.

"Suppose the river does not pa.s.s through the mountain, but comes from deep down somewhere."

"The more interesting the discovery of its hidden source, my lad. But that is not likely. Look at the rock. What is it--granite or gneiss?"

"No," I said; "limestone."

"Well, you ought to know how limestone ridges are honeycombed with water-formed caverns. We have several examples at home. If this subterranean river came bubbling up from somewhere in the interior and the rock were granite, I should expect it to be hot."

"And it's quite cold, sir," said Cross.

"Oh, no, just pleasantly cool. I don't think there's a doubt about its having its source higher up in the mountains; but whether it has dived down for a few hundred yards or a few miles we can only know by exploring."

"Well, Cross," I said to the carpenter, "will this be fun enough for you?"

"Splendid, sir," said the man enthusiastically. "I never had a treat like this."

"Master Nat," whispered Pete, "am I to come too?"

"Of course," I said. "Tuck up your trousers as high as you can."

"But suppose we have to swim, sir?"

"Look here, Pete," I said, "you don't want to come."

"No, sir. Can't help it, sir, but I never could a-bear the dark."

"Then I'll ask my uncle to let you stop behind."

"What!" cried the poor fellow fiercely, "leave me behind, and you go?

That you just won't, sir. I'd go if it was twice as dark."

I saw him set his teeth, and then, as my uncle gave the word, he climbed up to a verdant cleft with Cross to cut four stout bamboos about six feet long to act as walking-staves.

"We must always be ready to feel our way and try the depth," said Uncle d.i.c.k; "and avoid any holes. If it grows deeper as we go on and there is no bare rock at the sides, of course we must return."

A few minutes later our guns were slung across our backs, the loads taken up, and, each armed with a staff, we made our start--Cross, as he held the lanthorn, asking leave to lead the way.

"We shan't be able to do it, Master Nat," whispered Pete, as we followed in turn, Pete last, for it was very hard work, the barrels of our guns sc.r.a.ping again and again against the roof during the first twenty yards or so; but Pete had hardly uttered the above words before I saw Cross raise the lanthorn higher. Then my uncle began to walk erect, and directly after I found on raising my staff that I could not touch the roof, while a sharp whistle uttered by our lanthorn-bearer was echoed from far on high.

"Plenty of room upwards, sir," cried Cross.

"Yes," said my uncle.

"Ugh! what a horrid place, Master Nat!" whispered Pete, who kept as close to me as he could. "Do mind, sir."

"Mind what?" I said.

"The holes. If you step into one of them there's no knowing how deep they are. They must be just like wells."

"How do you know?" I said gruffly; and he was silent, giving me time to look to right and left and forward, as far as the light of the lanthorn would allow.

There was not much to see--only a faint halo of light, with reflections sometimes from dripping rocks; but it seemed that there was no sh.o.r.e to the river on either side such as would afford footing, while as far as I could make out the stream was about the same width as it was outside.

There was the dancing light on ahead, playing strangely on the surface of the gliding waters, and all around black darkness, while the vast cavern in which we were, seemed to be filled with strange sounds, splashings, ripplings, whisperings, and their echoes.

"Hear that, Master Nat?" said Pete, getting close beside me and grasping my arm.

"Of course I can," I said pettishly, for it was bad enough to suffer from one's own feelings, without being troubled at such a time by others.

"But--oh, there it goes again," he whispered.

"What goes again?" I said.

"That, sir. I dunno what it is, but there seems to be lots of 'em.

Bill Cross stirs 'em up with the stick and the light, and they swims off both sides, and then you can hear 'em splashing with their tails as they come back again."

"Nonsense!" I said. "That's all imagination."

"Oh, no, it aren't, sir," he whispered. "I say, what did you say was the name of them big snakes that lives part of their time in the water?"

"Anacondas."

"That's them, sir. We've got all amongst 'em here, and they'll be having one of us directly."

"Pooh! There's nothing alive in this dark place," I said scornfully.

"What! Why, wasn't it alive with birds and bats?"

"Oh, yes, but I don't believe there's a fish in these dark waters."

"Fish! Oh, I don't mind fish, sir, as long as they aren't sharks. It's them conders I can't bear. It wouldn't so much matter if we were in the dark, but we've brought a light to show 'em where we are."