Scarlett hung there from the hazel bough staring, and for a few moments
utterly unable to realise that which his companion had said, till Fred
gave himself a shake, like a great dog coming out of the water, and by
degrees got one leg free, then the other, trampling down the broken
wood, and standing at last on a level with his companion.
"Did you think it was deep?" said the lad.
"Deep? Yes; I did not know how deep. Then it is not a well?"
"Why, of course not. Don't you see it's the passage we were looking
for, and it does go down to the lake."
"The passage?"
"Of course. Look, you can see a little both ways. Of course the top's
broken in here. Isn't it droll that we should find it like this. But
oh! my head. I gave it such a crack when I fell. It served me just as
if I was a rabbit. I don't know how long I've been like that."
Scarlett could not answer him, so excited had he become at the strange
turn things had taken.
"There, my head's better now," said Fred, as he sat at the edge of the
hole after climbing lightly out: and as he spoke he amused himself by
kicking down fragments of the side to listen to the echoing splash.
"What do you say to going up to the house for a light? No; let's get
Nat's stable lanthorn, and then go down here and see where the way out
goes."
"I know," cried Scarlett, eagerly.
"Where?"
"Why, down there, right away by the old tree clump--right out yonder."
"There can't be a way out there, because we should have seen it."
"Perhaps it's covered up so as to keep it hidden till it was wanted."
"Let's go and see. But, stop a moment. We don't want another way in,
now we've got this."
"No," said Scarlett. "I don't know, though. Let's go and see."
"All right; it will dry my legs," replied Fred. And, getting up, the
two lads made their way down to the head of the little bay nearest to
the house, and then worked along among the alders which hung over the
lake till they came to the part of the old forest Scarlett had named--an
evergreen patch of about an acre, on which stood a dozen or two of the
finest trees in the park.
"Why," cried Scarlett, "I remember old Dee--"
"Nat's father?"
"Yes--saying that there once used to be a boathouse down here."
"Then, why didn't we look there first?"
"Because it was not a likely place, all that distance away."
Neither did it seem a likely place now, as they climbed over a rough,
moss grown fence, and entered the unfrequented spot, to find old masses
of rock peering out of the soil, ancient trees coated with ivy, and an
abundance of thick undergrowth such as they had been fighting with a
short time before.
The task was less difficult, and they spent the next half-hour hunting
along the edge of the lake, whose shore here was for the most part high
and rocky, but broken here and there by shrubby patches of gorse and
heather, in company with fine old birches, whose silvery trunks were
reflected in the lake.
"I knew you were wrong," said Fred at last, as he sat down in a sunny
spot to let his legs dry, "it couldn't be here."
"Why not?"
"Because, if it were here, we should have found it."
Scarlett said nothing, but stood at the edge of the rocky bank, now
looking down into the water, now toward the bushes which were
overhanging the lake. There were plenty of rather likely places, but
none quite likely enough, and reluctantly agreeing at last that he might
have been mistaken, he turned slowly away from the ivy covered
perpendicular bank, and sauntered slowly back with his companion in
silence.
"My legs are getting drier now," said Fred, suddenly. "What do you
say--shall we fetch a lanthorn, and go down into the passage?"
"I don't see what you want with dry legs, if you are going to wade,"
replied Scarlett, thoughtfully.
"You don't want to go."
"Yes, I do."
"You're afraid."
"Perhaps so," replied Scarlett; "but you are not, so let's go and get
the lanthorn."
A quarter of an hour later, the lanthorn was secretly obtained, lighted,
and a supply of pieces of candle included, and then the question arose,
How were they to get it down to the little wilderness unseen?
"Somebody would be sure to come and look what we were doing."
"I know," cried Scarlett. "Let's get a big bucket, and a couple of
rods, and they'll think we are going to fish."
The idea was accepted at once, and the lads marched off, rods over
shoulder, and the bucket swinging between them, its light unseen in the
broad sunshine. The place was soon reached, and, taught by experience,
they found a better way to the prostrate oak, and after a little
struggling and scratching, stood gazing down.
"Look hear, Scar," cried Fred, "if we find a better way in, we can
easily cover this place over with some old branches and fern roots,
because it must be a secret way, or it's of no use."
Scarlett quite agreed to this, and there they stood gazing up at the
arrowy beams of sunshine which shot down through the leaves. Then they
had a look down into the hole which, with its watery floor and darkness,
was anything but tempting.
"Don't look very nice, Scar, does it?"
"Not at all. Shall we give it up?"
"If we do, as soon as we get home, we shall say what cowards we were."
"Yes, I shall," replied Scarlett, "but, all the same, I don't want to go
down. Do you?"
"No."
"And you don't want me to go alone?"
"No, I don't think so. Here, Scar, don't let's give ourselves a chance
to call ourselves cowards. I'll go, if you will."
"I don't want to go, but I will, if you will. Come along."
The hesitation was gone.
"I'll go first," said Scar, "because you have been down, but I suppose
we must be careful so as not to loosen any stones."
"Very well," said Fred, rather unwillingly. "Give me the lanthorn to
hold."
The light was drawn out of the bucket, and Scarlett prepared to descend;
but this proved a longer task than was expected, for it was first
necessary to drag out several pieces of broken branch.
This being done, Scarlett looked up at his companion, who let himself
down without hesitation, and they stood together with the daylight above
them, and the narrow lugged stone passage stretching away to right and
left.
"Which way shall we go first?" asked Scarlett.
"This way," cried Fred, and his voice sounded so strange and hollow,
that as he stood there up to his knees in water, which glimmered and
shimmered on the black surface, he hesitated and wished that he had not
agreed to go.
For there before them lay a narrow path of light, ending in quite a
sharp point, and seeming to point to the end of their journey.
They both told themselves that they were not likely to meet anything
that would do them harm, but, all the same, neither of them could help
wondering whether there would be any unpleasant kind of fish in the
depths as they neared the lake. That word depth, too, troubled them.
It was easy enough to wade now, but suppose it should grow deeper
suddenly, and they should step into some horrible hole. Suppose--
"Look here," cried Fred, suddenly, as they waded slowly on, listening to
the whisper and splash of the water, "I wish you'd be quiet with your
suppose this, and suppose that. You don't want to frighten me, do you?"
"Why, I never spoke," cried Scar.
"Then you must have been thinking aloud, for it seemed to me as if you
were saying things on purpose to scare me."
"Well, it is enough to scare anybody, Fred; and I don't mind saying to
you that I don't like it."
"But we will not go back?"
"No."
"Only you might hold the light a little higher."
Scarlett obeyed, and they cautiously went on, with the water still about
the same depth, and for prospect above, before, and on either side,
there was the arch of rugged stones, the dripping wall, and the gleaming
water.