The rest was easy. In five minutes the blacks had crawled across, with
many fearful glances at the upturned snouts of the huge reptiles below;
and Don, treading the springy length of plank with sure foot, had
transferred muskets and cutlasses to what he mentally termed “Jack's
side” of the chasm. They were now ready for a fresh start.
All this time Bosin had watched their movements with an expression of
mingled shrewdness and approval in his restless eyes that seemed to say:
“Ha! the very thing I'd do myself were I in the fix you're in.” Again he
took the lead, like one who had travelled the road before, and was quite
satisfied in his own mind that he knew all its little ins and outs.
His knowledge of the way became more apparent still when, after
penetrating the heart of the rock for some distance, the tunnel split
into three distinct branches. This point Don hesitated to pass; but not
so Bosin. Without a pause he took the passage to the right, glancing
back as if to assure himself that he was followed. Off this gallery
others opened, until it became evident that, as the captain had once
affirmed, the rock was honeycombed “from maindeck to keelson.” But for the
monkey's guidance Don must have found himself utterly at a loss amid so
perplexing a labyrinth. As it was, he pressed forward with confidence.
Danger of discovery, owing to the multiplicity of passages, now
increased momentarily. Any of these ghostly corridors might afford
concealment to an enemy who, warned of danger by the muffled echo of
approaching steps, might steal away, silently and unobserved, and so
raise the alarm. Though still in his stocking feet, Don instinctively
found himself treading on tip-toe, while the bare-footed blacks--who
were even less inclined for a brush with the enemy than he--purposely
did the same. Even then their movements, well-nigh noiseless though they
were, caused commotion amongst the bats that clung in patches of living
fungi to the vaulted roof, and sent them wheeling hither and thither in
swift, startled flight.
To succeed in finding his chum, and to liberate him ere discovery came,
was almost more than Don dared hope for. For come it must, sooner or
later. Only, once Jack was by his side, he cared little how soon or in
what manner it came. True, the natives possessed the seeming advantage
of overwhelming numbers; but in these rock corridors the nozzle of a
single musket was better than a hundred men.
To do him justice, he had thrust the pearls entirely out of his thoughts
in his eagerness to set Jack at liberty. “Time enough to think about the
pearls afterwards,” he said to himself--forgetting that “afterwards” was
at the best but a blind alley, full of unknown pitfalls.
They were now well into the heart of the Elephant Bock, where any moment
might bring them face to face with Jack or his captors, or both.
At this point the monkey, who was some yards in advance, suddenly
stopped and uttered a peculiar hissing sound. Once before--when, on
the rock platform, Bosin had given warning of the approach of
the canoes--had Don heard that hiss. There was no mistaking its
significance. He motioned to the blacks to halt, and with stealthy tread
crept forward alone.
Just ahead a sharp bend in the passage limited his view to a few yards
of indifferently lighted wall. Hugging the inner side of this bend, he
presently gained the jutting shoulder of rock which formed the dividing
line between the vista of gallery behind and that ahead, and from this
point of vantage peered cautiously round the projection in search of the
cause of Bosin's alarm.
This was not far to seek. Immediately beyond the bend the passage
expanded into a sort of vestibule, communicating, by means of a
lofty portal, with a spacious, well-lighted chamber. It was not this
discovery, however, that riveted his gaze, but a dusky figure crouched
on the floor of the vestibule--the figure of a native, reclining on a
mat, with his back to the spot where Don stood. By his side lay a sword
of curious workmanship, and a huge conch-shell, the pearly pink of its
inner surface contrasting strangely with the native's coffee-coloured
skin. The weapon and the shell told their own tale: the native was doing
“sentry-go.”
Over what or whom? With swift glance Don scanned every nook and corner
of the vestibule, and as much of the interior chamber as lay within
range of his vision. So far as he could see both were empty, barring
only the dusky sentinel. Then he fancied he heard the faint clanking
of a chain, though from what direction the sound proceeded it was
impossible to determine. Listening with bated breath, he heard it again,
and now it seemed to come from the larger chamber. His pulses thrilled,
and a determined light shone in his eyes as he turned them once more
upon the sentinel.
“I'll jolly soon fix you, old chap,” he said to himself; and noiselessly
clubbing the musket he carried, he prepared to advance.
But for the monkey's vigilance he must have come upon the recumbent
guard without the slightest warning, for not more than ten paces
separated the shoulder of rock--Don's post of observation--from the mat
on which the native reclined.
To fire upon him was out of the question, since that would fulfil the
very purpose for which he, with his conch-shell trumpet, was stationed
there--namely, to send a thousand wild echoes hurtling through chamber
and galleries, and so apprise his comrades of impending danger.
Moreover, Don had a wholesome horror of bloodshed, which at most times
effectually held his trigger finger in check.
A swift, sure blow--that would be the best means of keeping the native's
lips from the nozzle of his conch-trumpet. A blow--ay, there was
the-rub! For, though the native's back was towards-him, the space by
which they two were divided must be crossed; and these walls, dumb
as they looked, had hidden tongues, which would echo and re-echo the
faintest sound. Could he, then, get near enough to strike?
Inch by inch he crept towards the unconscious sentinel, slowly raising
the butt of the musket as he advanced. So intense was the suspense of
those few brief moments that he hardly breathed. It seemed as if the
very beating of his heart must reach the native's ears. Inch by inch,
foot by foot, until----
[Illustration: 0213]
The native turned his head; but before he could spring to his feet, or
even utter a cry, the musket crashed upon his shaven pate, and he rolled
over on his side without a sound.
Don did not stop to ascertain the extent of his injuries. Neither did he
summon the blacks. Again the clanking of chains rang in his ears, and at
a bound he crossed the threshold of the larger chamber, An unkempt human
figure started up in the far corner.
“Jack!”
“And is it really you, old fellow?” cried Jack joyfully. “Give us your
hand; and how did you find your way here, I want to know?”
“You have Bosin to thank for that,” replied Don, returning his chum's'
grip with interest. “When I saw your handkerchief----”
“Ah, the monkey stole it, then! I missed it, don't you know, but never
imagined that Bosin took it, though he paid me a visit early this
morning. Well, he did me a good turn that time, anyhow.”
“And a better one when he led us back here. But,” continued Don in
hurried, suppressed tones, “don't let us waste time palavering, Jack.
There's not a moment to lose. I've done for old conchy yonder--knocked
him on the head--but the rest may swoop down on us any minute. Say, how
are you tethered?”
“Leg,” said Jack laconically, rattling a chain which secured him to the
wall. “Stop!”--as Don unslung his cutlass with the intention of hacking
at the links--“I'll show you a trick worth two of that. You see that
ring-bolt the chain's fastened to? Well, it's set in lead--not very
securely as it happens--and I've managed to work it so loose that I
fancy a good hard tug ought to bring it away. Meant to make off on my
own account, you see, if you hadn't turned up, old fellow. But lay hold
and let's have a pull for it, anyhow.”
“Quick, then!” said Don. “I thought I heard footsteps.”
Throwing their combined weight upon the chain, they pulled for dear
life. The ring-bolt yielded little by little, and presently came away
from its setting bodily, like an ancient tooth, and Jack was free. The
chain, it is true, was still attached to his leg; but as it encircled
only one ankle, this did not so much matter.
“Don't let it rattle,” said Don breathlessly, “I'm positive I heard
footsteps. And here, take this,” thrusting the cutlass into Jack's
disengaged hand. “Now, come on!”
Barely had he uttered the words when a hollow, prolonged blast, like
that of a gigantic trumpet with a cold in its throat, filled the chamber
with deafening clamour. And as the echoes leapt from wall to wall, and
buffeted each other into silence, another sound succeeded them, faint
and far away, but swelling momentarily into ominous loudness and
nearness.
Don clutched his companion's arm.
“The fellow I knocked on the head--he's come to!” he said thickly. “That
was the blast of his conch; and this”--pausing with uplifted hand and
bated breath until that other sound broke clearly on their ears--“this
is the tread of heaven only knows how many native feet. Jack, we're
discovered!”