The Lone Ranche. Reid Mayne

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ their rock-bound abode, so late buried in the profoundest darkness.

      It was but a feeble glimmer, that appeared to have found admission through a tiny crevice under the huge copestone; and Hamersley’s face, close to it, was seen only in faint shadow – fainter from the film of smoke yet struggling up the shaft.

      Still was it light – beautiful, cheering light – like some shore-beacon seen by the storm-tossed mariner amid the dangers of a night-shrouded sea.

      Hamersley had not yet spoken a word to explain what had occurred to cause it. He had suddenly left off chipping the rock, and was at rest, apparently in contemplation of the soft silvery ray that was playing so benignly upon his features.

      Was it the pleasure of once more beholding what he lately thought he might never see again – the light of day? Was it this alone that was keeping him still and speechless?

      No, something else; as he told his comrade when he rejoined him soon after on the ledge.

      “Walt,” he said, “I’ve let daylight in, as you see; but I find it’ll take a long time to cut a passage out. It’s only the weeds I’ve been able to get clear of. The big rock runs over at least five feet, and the stone turns out harder than I thought of.”

      These were not cheering words to Walt Wilder.

      “But,” continued Hamersley, his speech changing to a more hopeful tone, “I’ve noticed something that may serve better still; perhaps save us all the quarrying. I don’t know whether I’m right; but we shall soon see.”

      “What hev ye noticed?” was the question put by Wilder.

      “You see there’s still some smoke around us.”

      “Yes, Frank, my eyes tell me that plain enuf. I’ve nigh nibbed ’em out o’ thar sockets.”

      “Well, as soon as I had scooped out the crack that let in the daylight. I noticed that the smoke rushed out as if blasted through a pair of bellows. That shows there’s a draught coming up. It can only come from some aperture below, acting as a furnace or the funnel of a chimney. We must try to get down to the bottom, and see if there’s such a thing. If there be, who knows but it may be big enough to let us out of our prison, without having to carve our way through the walls, which I feel certain would take us several days. We must try to get down to the bottom.”

      To accede to this request the guide needed no urging, and both – one after the other – at once commenced descending.

      They found no great difficulty in getting down, any more than they had already experienced, for the shaft continued all the way down nearly the same width, and very similar to what it was above the ledge. Near the bottom, however, it became abruptly wider by the retrocession of the walls. They were now in a dilemma, for they had reached a point where they could go no further without dropping off. It might be ten feet, it might be a hundred – in any case enough to make the peril appalling.

      Wilder had gone first, and soon bethought himself of a test. He unslung his powder-horn and permitted it to drop from his hand, listening attentively. It made scarce any noise; still he could hear it striking against something soft. It was the brush thrown in by the Indians. This did not seem far below; and the half-burnt stalks would be something to break their fall.

      “I’ll chance it,” said Walt, and almost simultaneous with his words was heard the bump of his heavy body alighting on the litter below.

      “You may jump without fear, Frank. ’Taint over six feet in the clar.”

      Hamersley obeyed, and soon both stood at the bottom of the chimney – on the hearthstone where the stalks of the creosote still smouldered.

      Chapter Sixteen.

      Off at Last!

      On touching terra firma, and finding plenty of space around, they scrambled from off the pile of loose stones and stalks cast down by the Indians, and commenced groping their way about. Again touching the firm surrounding of rock, they groped searchingly along it.

      They were not long engaged in their game of blind-man’s buff, when the necessity of trusting to the touch came abruptly to an end – as if the handkerchief had been suddenly jerked from their eyes. The change was caused by a light streaming in through a side gallery into which they had strayed. It was at first dim and distant, but soon shone upon them with the brilliance of a flambeau.

      Following the passage through which it guided them, they reached an aperture of irregular roundish shape, about the size, of the cloister window of a convent. They saw at once that it was big enough to allow the passage of their bodies. They saw, too, that it was admitting the sunbeams – admonishing them that it was still far from night.

      They had brought all their traps down along with them – their knives and pistols, with Hamersley’s gun still carefully kept. But they hesitated about going out. There could be no difficulty in their doing so, for there was a ledge less than three feet under the aperture, upon which they could find footing. It was not that which caused them to hesitate, but the fact of again falling into the hands of their implacable enemies.

      That these were still upon the plain they had evidence. They could hear their yells and whooping, mingled with peals of wild demon-like laughter. It was at the time when the firewater was in the ascendant, and the savages were playing their merry game with the pieces of despoiled cotton goods.

      There was danger in going out, but there might be more in staying in. The savages might return upon their search, and discover this other entrance to the vault. In that case they would take still greater pains to close it and besiege the two fugitives to the point of starvation.

      Both were eager to escape from a place they had lately looked upon as a living tomb.

      Still, they dared not venture out of it. They could not retreat by the plain so long as the Indians were upon it. At night, perhaps, in the darkness, they might. Hamersley suggested this.

      “No,” said Walt, “nor at night eyther. It’s moontime, you know; an’ them sharp-eyed Injuns niver all goes to sleep thegither. On that sand they’d see us in the moonlight ’most as plain as in the day. Ef we wait at all, we’ll hev to stay till they go clar off.”

      Wilder, while speaking, stood close to the aperture, looking cautiously out. At that moment, craning his neck to a greater stretch, so as to command a better view of what lay below, his eye caught sight of an object that elicited an exclamation of surprise.

      “Darn it,” he said, “thar’s my old clout lyin’ down thar on the rocks.”

      It was the red kerchief he had plucked from his head to put the pursuers on the wrong track.

      “It’s jest where I flinged it,” he continued; “I kin recognise the place. That gully, then, must be the one we didn’t go up.”

      Walt spoke the truth. The decoy was still in the place where he had set it. The square of soiled and faded cotton had failed to tempt the cupidity of the savages, who knew that in the waggons they had captured were hundreds of such, clean and new, with far richer spoil besides.

      “S’pose we still try that path, Frank. It may lead us to the top arter all. If they’ve bin up it they’ve long ago gone down agin; I kin tell by thar yelpin’ around the waggons. They’ve got holt of our corn afore this; and won’t be so sharp in lookin’ arter us.”

      “Agreed,” said Hamersley.

СКАЧАТЬ