"Think the candle will last, Jolly?" said Gwyn, after they had
progressed for some time and the lanthorn door was opened.
"Plenty--yes," said Joe.
"Wish I knew there was enough and to spare," said Gwyn.
"Why?"
"Because I'd have a bite off the end. I'm so faint and hungry, it's
quite horrible."
"Horrid!" exclaimed Joe.
"Not it. Nothing's horrid when you're starving. But I don't suppose
it's very far as the crow flies."
"Crows don't fly in tin mines," said Joe, who was in better spirits now.
"Well, then, in a straight line."
"I don't believe there's a straight line in the place."
"I say, don't chop logic, Jolly, and don't--I say, look here, Grip,
steady! don't pull a fellow's arm off!" interpolated Gwyn, for the dog
tugged heavily at the neckerchiefs. "Look here, Joe, old chap, do talk
gently to me, for I'm so hungry that I feel quite vicious, and just as
if I could bite. Ah, would you get away! Steady, sir! We want to get
home as badly as you do--for `hoozza! we're homeward bound--bound;
hoozza, we're homeward bound!'" sang the boy wildly.
"Don't you holloa till you're out of the wood."
"I wasn't holloaing," cried Gwyn, with hysterical merriment. "I was
singing, only you've no ear for music."
"Not for such music as that. Hark at the echoes!--they sound just like
howls."
"All right, but don't talk about getting out of the wood when we're like
moles underground."
"Who's chopping logic now?"
"Oh, anybody. Steady, Grip, slow march."
"Does he pull so hard?"
"Horribly; but I don't mind--it shows he knows his way."
Grip barked and dragged at the improvised leash as if determined to
hasten their pace.
"It's just like the greyhounds do over the coursing. But pull away, old
chap! I say, though, isn't it hot now?"
"Yes, I'm bathed in perspiration. We must be very deep down."
"Oh, no, it's just about on a level; sometimes we go down, and sometimes
up."
_Splash, splash, splash_, and then the dog's progress seemed to be
checked, as the boys followed into a pool of water which filled all the
tunnel to the sides.
"Stop!" cried Joe, as he waded to his knees.
"Why? What for?"
"Because we're going wrong."
"So I thought; but Grip ought to know."
"He can't, because we never came along here."
"No; but that proves he's right, for we never came along here, and we
always lost ourselves."
"But it's getting deeper, and there's no knowing how deep it will be."
"Never mind; we must wade."
Joe went on, and the water was soon up to their waists, while the dog
swam on.
"I'm sure Grip's going wrong," said Joe, excitedly, as the light of the
lanthorn gleamed from the surface of what was now a narrow canal.
"Get on. Grip knows."
"He can't. It's impossible that he could have scented us over water."
"Yes, so it is," said Gwyn, anxiously; and he stopped, naturally
checking the dog, who began to splash and to howl and bark angrily.
"Well, we must go on now. Perhaps it's the way he came."
"Couldn't be, because he was not wet."
"Well, I am right over my waist," said Gwyn. "Shall we go on? We can
swim if it gets deeper."
"I say, let's try it a little farther." And holding the light well up,
they waded on, with the water growing deeper, till it reached their
chests and soon after their chins.
"Now then--go back or swim?" asked Gwyn.
"Oh, go on; Grip must know. I suppose the floor has gone down a good
deal here."
"Can you keep the lanthorn out of the water? If you can't we must not
go on; because it would be too horrible to swim here in the dark, and I
don't know whether I could keep on with only one hand swimming and
holding Grip with the other."
"He'd tow you along," said Joe.
"Halt! Hold the light higher," shouted Gwyn, and his words reverberated
strangely.
_Grate, grate, scratch_, came a strange sound.
"Do you hear what I say?" cried Gwyn, excitedly.
"I can't, I can't--there isn't room."
"Then give it to me," said Gwyn, fiercely, from where he stood a few
yards now in advance of his companion. "How am I to see what I'm
doing?--and I know you'll have it in the water directly."
"Don't I tell you I can't?" cried Joe, wildly. "Can't you see there
isn't room? I'm holding it close up to the roof now." And at a glance
Gwyn saw that the roof was so low where they were that the gallery was
nearly filled by the water.
"Oh, hang the dog!" cried Gwyn, desperately. "Quiet, sir! Come back!"
for with the water steadily deepening it seemed madness to let the
animal lure them on into what appeared to be certain death.
"Yes, yes, come back," panted Joe; "it's horrible. Here, Grip, Grip,
Grip! Here, here, here!"
But the dog only whined and swam on, and then began to beat the water
wildly as if he were drowning, for in his excitement and dread, Gwyn had
now begun to haul upon the leash, dragging the dog partly under water in
his efforts to get hold of its collar.
It was no easy task; for as the dog rose again, it was evidently
frightened by its immersion beneath the surface, and began barking,
whining, and struggling to escape from its master's grasp.
"What is it? What are you doing?" cried Joe, as he held the light close
to the roof.
"Doing? Can't you see the dog's half mad. Quiet, Grip! What is it!
Hold still, will you?"
But this seemed to be the last thing the poor beast was disposed to do;
for the tie, drag under the surface, and the seizure by the collar were
all suggestive to its benighted intellect of death by drowning; and just
as Gwyn, chin-deep in the water now and hardly able from his natural
buoyancy to keep his footing, was backing towards the light, holding by
the collar with both hands, the dog gathered itself together with its
hind-legs resting against its master's breast, and made a tremendous
bound as if for life.
Gwyn had had some experience of the muscular power in a collie dog, but
never till that moment did he fully realise what strength a desperate
animal does possess; for that bound sent the dog forward and him
backward; and completely off his balance, his head went down, his legs
rose from his buoyancy in the water, and as he made a desperate effort
to regain his feet, there came a sharp drag at the neckerchief he had
twisted round his hand, and he was dragged under in turn and towed along
for some moments before he could get his head above the surface of the
black water again. Then, obeying his natural instinct, he struck out
and began to swim, feeling himself drawn steadily along by the dog
farther and farther from the light which gleamed from the water, and
into the black darkness and the unknown depths.