A TERRIBLE NIGHT
We will return now to Mr. Hume, who was left supporting the
unconscious form of Venning on the brink of the rushing river, with
the vast vault above him, and the roar of sharp explosions bellowing
at intervals through the hollows. As he stooped over his young
companion, he caught a fluttering of the eyelids, and placing the
boy on the ground with a pillow made by his rolled-up coat, he
unfastened the little medicine-bag which each always carried, and
gave him a strong restorative. Then he chafed the cold hands, took
off the wet shoes, and did the same to the feet, which were like
marble. As the blood circulated under the friction, Venning regained
his colour, and suddenly looked about him.
"I'm here, lad," said Mr. Home, cheerily. "You grew a little dizzy,
but you're all right."
"What's that noise?" asked the boy, breathlessly. Mr. Hume picked
him up, and carried him to the door of the vault.
"Magnificent, isn't it? Aren't you glad we came? One of the wonders
of the world; and you've got the crow over Dick this time."
Venning sighed. "It's rather awful," he muttered. "It's grand, lad,
grand! See how the water juts out like a column of steam with the
roar of a big gun, and how the light falls upon it in a thousand
hues, as the fine spray falls."
Venning's eyes opened wide as they looked up. "Like golden rain at a
display of fireworks."
"The very thing, lad," answered the hunter, enthusiastically.
Venning's eyes ranged slowly down to the well of green water arching
out from the black wall, and then to the snow-white flood where the
foam hissed in its giddy descent.
"Where is she?"
"She'll be back soon. But we cannot wait for her here---there is too
much moisture. We'll get back to a drier place."
Still carrying the boy, he made his way back to the great chamber,
lit up mysteriously by those pale cones and glistening columns. Here
he found a dry place in a comer, and after placing Venning on the
ground, he struck a match.
"Here's a find," he said, pouncing on a piece of driftwood.
With his Ghoorka knife he soon split it up, and in a short time a
fire was blazing, throwing a red reflection on the stalactites. It
was an eerie place, echoing to the thunders of the explosions, with
pitch-dark comers, and those ghost-like forms in the misty heights,
but Mr. Hume would not allow his patient time to brood over the
surroundings. He shaved off fragments of biltong for him to eat,
talking cheerfully all the time, and at last had the satisfaction of
seeing the overwrought nerves of the lad quieted in sleep. Then the
anxiety that had filled him all the time appeared in the expression
of his face, and he stepped away a few yards to send a call for the
woman ringing up into the vault. The cry ran away mournfully in a
series of diminishing echoes, but no answer came, and he looked to
his weapons, built up the fire with other fragments of wood that had
been evidently borne in at times of flood, and explored the cave.
There was no sign of the woman anywhere, but he found three exits.
Relinquishing any idea of following them until Venning was fit to
walk, he returned to the fire, and sat down with his back to the
rock waiting for the woman's return. If he felt doubt or fear, he
fought against it, resolving that, come what would, his first care
was to save his companion, but that there was cause for doubt he
knew very well from the remarks and bearing of the woman. Probably,
he thought, the secret of the underground was hers only, and she
might well have a motive sufficiently strong to preserve that
secret even at the sacrifice of their lives. Full of these thoughts,
he began another examination of the cave, confining himself this
time to a search of the floor. Going down on hands and knees, and
carrying a lighted stick, he minutely inspected the thin layer of
dust which had settled since the last flood-waters had rushed
through. Traversing slowly the width of the cave, he found his own
spoor and the spoor of the woman. Then working round with the object
of finding which of the three openings she had taken on leaving, he
came upon a calabash and a kaross made of goats'-skin. The calabash,
from the smell, contained goats'-milk. Leaving the fire-stick to
mark the spot to which he had carried his search, he went back to
place the kaross over the sleeping boy. Then taking another stick
from the fire, he took up the spooring from the place he had left
off, and crawled inch by inch, till he came to the first exit. Here
he saw his spoor entering together with the footprints of the woman,
both very plain from the mud which had adhered to their feet. The
woman, however, had not passed out. That, at any rate, was one point
settled, and he went on with a feeling of distinct relief at the
thought that there might be another way out than by the fearful
track they had followed on entering. On nearing the second exit he
paused, startled by what seemed to him the sound of shrill voices
borne suddenly in a pause between the bellowing of the water-jets
in the neighbouring vault. When he listened he could, however,
distinguish no sound in the mutterings and the boomings that was
human, and repressing a desire to cry out, he groped along up to the
second exit. Here, however, there were no footprints. The surface
was smooth rock, and he was passing on when something about the rock
attracted his attention again. Leaving one of the sticks again to
guide him on his return by its glowing end, he returned to the fire,
rebuilt it, waited till it was fairly blazing, then with another
glaring torch he ran to continue his search. He found what he had
half expected, that the rock had been polished by the passage of
many feet, which had worn out quite a marked depression. He also
satisfied himself that the woman had not passed out there, for as
her feet had been wet she must have left some trace on the smooth
surface. There remained now the third and last exit, and as he edged
away to the left, he saw that the beaten track also led in the same
direction. He rose and walked, feeling for the opening with his
right hand, and, coming to it, he was glad, but not surprised, to
make two discoveries, first, that the well-marked path entered the
opening, and second, that the woman had also passed that way. There
was the spoor of one foot clearly outlined in particles of moist
dust.
"That's good," he muttered, standing up. "But I don't like the look
of that path. Means people. But what sort of people? And the kaross
and the goats'-milk. People again. No good taking risks."
He went back to the fire, drew the sticks away, thrust the burning
ends into crevices, and left the comer in darkness once more. Then
he sat down by Venning with his rifle across his knees and waited.
He had no thought of moving a foot from the cave until Venning was
fit to move; he would let him have his sleep out, and if he was no
better, well, then, he would carry him. So he sat waiting and
watching, listening to the hoarse rumblings which all the time
ascended from below, and to the tremendous reports, a little dulled
by the intervening wall, made by the spurting water. He watched the
coming of the night, marked the gradual fading of the sheen on the
stalactites, until softly the shadows sank and merged into the
darkness of the cave, leaving nothing visible but a faint gleam
where the nearest sulphur cone stood.
Eerie it was in the dim light, eerier it was now in the dark, with
those hoarse mutterings from beneath, and those thunderous
reverberations pealing at irregular intervals through the unknown
spaces above. He had his pipe, but his habitual caution deterred him
from seeking its comfort, and he was glad he had abstained, and glad
at having extinguished the fire, when suddenly he heard the sound of
shrill laughter. A sullen roar from the water-hole beyond drowned
the sound, but he knew in every fibre that he had not been mistaken.
There were others beside him and Venning in the vaults, but not for
a moment was he pleased at the thought. Instinct or the association
of the place warned them of danger. For a long spell, however, he
could distinguish nothing human in the hurly-burly of sounds, and
then again, nearer and plainer, the shrill peal rang out exultant,
with a note in it of some savage beast flinging back the news to the
pack that the scent was hot.
Slowly he stooped his head to hear if Venning slept, for he dreaded
what would happen if the boy awoke in the pitchy darkness and heard
that demoniac cry. The boy's breathing came at regular intervals,
and with a muttered prayer that he would sleep on, the Hunter felt
for the trigger.
"Ngonyama!" From the height a voice calling to him dropped soft as
the flight of a bat, faint as a whisper, yet clear as a bell in all
that turmoil.
He smiled grimly, but did not answer. This was some trick of the
woman. If she was friendly, why had she left them?
"Indhlovu! "--again it fell as from afar.
He ran his hand over the bandolier, loosened the cartridges, and let
his fingers curl round the trigger again.
A gust of wind blowing through some fissure shrieked amid the
heights as if terrified at having wandered into such a prison, then
for a long time the old sounds continued to make sport in the vaults
and tunnels without any interruption.
Then Venning suddenly woke, and Mr. Hume was in a fever to keep the
boy's mind occupied, and to get him asleep again.
"Drink this," he said, picking up the calabash, "and go to sleep
again."
Venning took a long drink, "I dreamt I was by the sea, listening to
the waves. It was almost as good as being home again."
"That's right. It's the sound of water. Go to sleep again and dream
of old England, the best medicine you could have."
"I think I will," said Venning; and, with a sigh, he pulled the
kaross over him, being too tired out to wonder how it came there.
"Sleep well, lad, sleep well;" and the big hand rested on the boy's
shoulder to comfort him with its touch, but the man's face was
turned with a straining expression towards the exit which he had
last inspected, for it seemed to him that he had seen a streak of
light, such as would be thrown in advance by a torch.
To his relief. Venning dropped off once more into a deep slumber,
and he bent forward, alert in every fibre. He was not mistaken.
There was a light over in the dark, not a light that sparkled, but a
greenish glow, not unlike the eye of an animal as seen at night in
the reflection of a bull's-eye lantern. It moved, too, like the eye
of an animal, and presently other lights gathered around and at the
back, giving off no radiance, not bright enough to throw up into
relief the objects that produced them, but watchful, like the eyes
of a pack of wild-dogs regarding their prey. The Hunter tried an
experiment. Feeling for his great knife, he struck a stone, and
watched to see if there was any movement of surprise which would
indicate that there were living creatures aware of his presence.
There was no such movement. Like bits of dull green glass with a
light behind, these mysterious points remained as they had been,
moving gently as if to the action of respiration. He raised his
rifle, tempted to fire under the feeling of nervous suspense that
tried his iron nerves, but lowered it at once, with a glance down at
the dark form at his side. He would wait; and he sat watching the
things, whatever they were, that seemed to be watching him with such
cold and silent intentness. Then he made out that they were not
animals. The eyes of animals blink, and these did not. Moreover,
any animal, however fierce, would turn its eyes away at times; but
these remained staring. What were they? He had seen fungus glow like
that in the forest, but never so many together. And then he strained
his ears to gather from any sound an inkling of their nature, but,
beyond the bellowings and the sullen roar, he could hear nothing.
How long could he stand the suspense? Already he felt a strong
impulse to jump up, to shout, to break up that fixed regard, to come
to the death-grapple, if need be, rather than sit there in doubt.
The minutes slipped by slowly; each slowly spun its time out, as if
every minute were an hour, each hour a week, and the moisture
gathered on his brow, when at last the tension was broken.
"Sisters, I smell smoke!"
"Thank God," was the man's thought, "they are living." The suspense
fell from him. He pulled himself together, and was ready for
anything.
"Smoke!" The voice reached him in sharp shrill accents that pierced
the continual growling of the waters. "Who is here?"
"Ngonyama!" was the reply uttered by several.
"He is terrible, sisters. Hear the thunder of his voice. Let us fly,
lest he tear us." And the speaker laughed.
"That is not his voice! He is afraid; he crouches like the panther
in the trap, trembling. His strength has gone from him."
"I heard a lion was in the plains, and the cows ran together in a
cluster, for they were afraid."
A shrill laughter was the response, but the dull lights remained
where they were, and again there was a long spell of silence, as far
as the voices were concerned. Then the lights went out. The Hunter
stooped forward, listening, but he could hear no footfall. He put
the gun down, and grasped the knife in his right hand, for he could
use it with better effect in a sudden assault.
"I smell meat!"
The voice came now from another quarter, and then the lights shone
out one after another.
"What meat is this, sister?"
"Indhlovu."
"Wow! There are fat pickings on the bones of the great one; but he
is powerful. I hear his trumpeting."
"Haw! it is the voice of the unseen, mother. Indhlovu has fallen
into the pit that was set for him. His power has gone."
Again the voices ceased, again the strange lights were dimmed; but
the Hunter was ready, for he knew now they were quartering the cave
in search of him. He had no fear, only a feeling of intense disgust,
coupled with a determination to scare the lives out of these ghouls,
if they ventured on an attack. By-and-by he beard faint rustlings,
and then breathings; but it was impossible to see, and he sat
perfectly still. Then the voices broke out again at another point.
"He is here, my sisters."
"Wow! We are hungry; let us eat. We are thirsty; let us drink."
"Sisters, terrible is the power in the arm of Indhlovu. He strikes,
and lo! as a falling tree sweeps a passage through the forest, so
would he sweep us away. Let him weaken; let hunger fasten on his
vitals, and fear trouble his brain."
"We are wolves; we would tear him down in his strength, while his
blood is red."
"Terrible is the trunk of Indhlovu, and terrible is the arm of
Ngonyama. In his hand is a broad knife, and with one stroke will he
split a head. Let the darkness hold him."
"We hunger, and he will go. The wizard will claim him for his own;
the dark waters will drag him down. Give him to us."
"He watches over his cub, and who so fierce as the lion who protects
his young? The cub will sicken. The sound of the waters will trouble
his brain; his spirit will fly before the terror of the darkness.
Wait, my sisters, till his cub be dead."
"Demons!" cried the Hunter, his patience gone in a storm of fury.
"Away!" He sprang forward with a roar, and his knife, whistling
through the air, fell upon the gleaming cone, and struck from it
sparks of fire.
With cries of fear the women--if women they were--fled, their lights
showing again from the second exit, where was the beaten footway,
and then out of the dark tunnel came a peal of fiendish laughter.
Then silence, or, rather, a relief from the mocking voices; but
there was a reminder of their presence in one of those pale greenish
lights. He strode towards it, saw it had been dropped, picked it up,
and found that it came from some substance held in a bag of open
network. With a short laugh he saw it was fungus, a discovery that
took all the mystery out of the recent performance, and since it
appeared that the only thing formidable about his persecutors was
their trickery in making the most of the terrors of the dark, he
remade the fire, for there was no mistaking the chillness of the
air. As he thought over the fantastic doings of the visitors, he
laughed again, and presently feeling the warmth of the fire, he
yawned and closed his eyes.
"Only a parcel of women," he muttered, and was asleep.
And as he slept, believing there was no danger, the shadows closed
in as the fire dwindled--closed in, taking queer shapes. Across the
smooth, gleaming surface of the cone these shadows came, like
stooping forms, with long lean arms. There were whisperings, too,
"clicks" made by the tongue, and Venning, opening his eyes, suddenly
heard these sounds at once, notwithstanding the walls of the cavern
trembled to the hollow thunder of the waters. His eyes fell upon
something beyond-the fire. He did not move, or cry out, or wonder
where he was; his mind was focussed like his wide-opened eyes on
that object. It was like a face, and yet he could not make out
whether it was the face of man, or bird, or beast, or reptile. One
glance at the thing by any one else would have been more than
enough, so terrible it was; but Venning's overpowering curiosity as
a naturalist mercifully blotter-put the horror. He was trying to
identify it, and made mental notes such as these:--
"Forehead low, receding; brows contracted; eyes small, deep-set,
venomous; lower part of face banded black, and undecipherable; neck
long, skinny, vulture-like; rest of body not visible."
"Snake, or wild-cat," he said.
"Eh?" said Mr. Hume, waking at once.
There was a ring of metal, a sudden babel of fierce cries, the flash
of a rifle-shot, and the clap of the report, followed by shrieks.
"It's all right, lad," shouted Mr. Hume, as Venning straggled to
rise; "keep down."
There was a sharp hissing. Something struck the rock above the
Hunter as he was stooping over Venning, and fell down into the fire.
It was a barbed arrow. He fired again, scattered the fire with a
kick, and crouched over the boy. Several arrows rang viciously
against the rock. He felt for Venning's carbine, swung it round with
one hand, and emptied the magazine, firing at different points. With
yells of disappointment, rage, and fear, the creatures of the night
fled once more.
"Are you all right, my boy?"
"Yes; but what does it mean? What were they? I thought the thing was
a snake."
"What did you see?"
"Something staring out of the shadows. I could not make out what it
was, and as you awoke it seemed to jump forward and strike."
"Ay, the blow fell on my belt. Thank God, you warned me; but it was
my fault. I should have kept awake. They're only women, lad. Don't
let any fancies come into your head."
Venning sniffed. "Smell anything? Seems to me like sulphur."
"It's the gunpowder fumes, hanging low."
Venning sat up. "What is that booming noise?"
"The sound of falling water."
The boy was silent for some time, while the Hunter reloaded the
carbine and his Express.
"So---we are still down below."
"But I know the way out, and as soon as it is daylight we'll get
back into the valley. Have no fears."
Venning's hand went out to feel for his companion. "I must have
given you a lot of trouble. You've got your coat off."
"I didn't want it, and it came in handy as a pillow."
"Put it on," said Venning, "and give me my gun."
Mr. Hume laughed cheerily. "Feeling yourself again--eh? Well, that's
good. And now we'll put an end to this nonsense."
"I certainly smell sulphur," said Venning; "and what is that blue
streak there?" He took a step towards the smooth cone. "It is
sulphur!" he cried. "See, it's burning."
Mr. Hume stepped to his side, and saw the unmistakable blue flame
given off by burning sulphur, while a whiff of the fumes made him
choke.
"You're right; it's a mass of sulphur. The burning wad front the
cartridge must have set it alight." He sliced off the burning patch
with his knife. "We don't want to be fumigated, or to die of
suffocation. Now, if you feel strong enough, we'll explore the
cave."
"Is it safe? I mean, are there any chasms?"
"Smooth as a floor. Keep close by me."
They examined the cavern carefully by means of the strange lantern
filled with fungus, and Mr. Hume halted by the second exit.
"This is where they enter," he said, "and I think our best plan will
be to build a fire in the mouth. We should then have the advantage
over them, as we should see them once they came into the
reflection."
They set about collecting wood, when Venning had a thought.
"Which way does the draught set in the tunnel--away from the cavern
or into it?"
"Why?"
"Because, if the current of air blows away from us, we can easily
keep them out."
"It blows from the cave into the tunnel. I found that out before."
"Then we have got them, whoever they are. Make the fire in the
passage, pile up blocks of this sulphur on the inner side, and the
wind will carry the fumes down into the tunnel."
"A splendid plan," said Mr. Hume; and very soon it was carded out, a
couple of shots being fired into the dark passage as a warning to
the enemy to keep off. As the flames caught the sulphur, a thick
smoke rolled away. "That will stop them; and now we can wait in
peace till the morning."
The rest of the night passed for them in peace as far as their
assailants were concerned, but the chilling damp of the vaults got
into their bones, and Venning was pinched and shivering when the
first ray of sunshine struck slanting down through the mist-laden
atmosphere, bringing with it a message of hope from the bright outer
world.