THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN.
I lay in the clearing in the valley for all of half an hour. Then,
somewhat rested, I arose, unable to endure the thought that night would
find me in the wilds alone and unarmed.
I could well remember how the sun had stood when I had separated from
my companions, and now, using the sun as a guide, I endeavored once
more to trace my steps to the path leading down to the river. Once the
stream was gained, I resolved to search up and down its banks until the
old convent was sighted.
My course led me up the side of a small mountain, which I climbed with
great difficulty, on account of the loose stones and dirt, which more
than once caused my ankle to give a dangerous twist. A sprained ankle
would have capped the climax of my misfortunes.
Just as the sun was beginning to set behind the peaks to the westward
of me, I reached a little plateau which divided a ridge from the
mountain proper. Here I rested for a few minutes and obtained a
refreshing drink at a spring under some rocks. Then I went on, in some
manner satisfied that I was on the right path at last.
But, alas! hardly had I taken a score of steps than I stepped on a bit
of ground which appeared solid enough, but which proved to be nothing
but a mass of dead brushwood lying over a veritable chasm. The whole
mass gave way, and with a lurch I was hurled forward into black space.
As I went down I put out my hands to save myself. But, though I caught
hold of several roots and bits of rocks, this did not avail; and I did
not stop descending until I struck a stone flooring twenty feet below
the top of the opening. Fortunately the floor was covered with a large
mass of half-decayed brush, otherwise the fall must have been a serious
if not a fatal one.
As I went down, on hands and knees, a lot of loose branches, dirt, and
small stones rolled on top of me, and for the minute I had a vision of
being buried alive. But the downfall soon ceased; and, finding no bones
broken, I crawled from under the load and surveyed the situation.
I felt that I was now worse off than ever. The well-hole--I can call
it nothing else--was about ten feet in diameter, and the walls were
almost smooth. The top of the opening was far out of my reach, and, as
for a means of escape, there seemed to be none.
However, I was not to be daunted thus easily, and, striking a match
and lighting a cedar branch, I set about looking for some spot where I
might climb up. But the spot did not present itself.
But something else did, and that was an opening leading directly into
the mountain. On pulling at a projecting rock, I felt it quiver,
and had just time to leap back, when it fell at my feet. Behind the
rock was a pitch-black hole, into which I thrust the lighted branch
curiously. There was a cave beyond--how large was yet to be discovered.
I had no desire to explore any cave at that moment, my one idea being
to get out of the well-hole and proceed on my way. But getting out of
the hole was impossible, and I was forced to remain where I was, much
to my disgust and alarm.
Jorge had been right about the coming storm. At an hour after sunset
I heard the distant rumble of thunder, and soon a lively breeze blew
through the trees and brush on the mountain side. A few flashes of
lightning followed, and then came a heavy downpour of rain.
Not wishing to be soaked, I retreated to the cave I had discovered,
although with caution, for I had no desire to take another tumble into
a deeper hole. But the floor of the cavern appeared to be quite level,
and with rising curiosity I took up my lighted cedar branch, whirled it
around to make it blaze up, and started on a tour of investigation and
discovery.
That I should not miss my way back, I lit a pile of small brush at the
mouth of the opening. Then I advanced down a stony corridor, irregular
in shape, but about fifty feet wide by half as high.
The opening appeared to be a split in the mountain, perhaps made ages
before by volcanic action. I felt certain there was an opening above,
for in several spots the rain came down, forming small pools and
streams of water.
Suddenly the idea struck me to watch which way the water ran, and I did
so and learned that its course was in the very direction I was walking.
Moreover the tiny streams merged one into another, until, several
hundred feet further on, they formed quite a water course.
"If only this stream flows into the main river!" I thought, and on
the spur of the moment resolved to follow it as far as I was able,
satisfied that if it led to nowhere in particular I could retrace my
steps to its source.
I now found the cave growing narrower, and presently it grew less than
a dozen feet in width, and the stream covered the entire bottom to the
depth of several inches. Throwing my boots over my shoulders, I began
wading, feeling sure of one step ere I trusted myself to take another.
It took me fully ten minutes to proceed a hundred feet in this fashion.
The stream was now not over six feet wide and all of a foot deep.
Making sure that my torch was in no danger of going out, I continued
to advance, but now more slowly than ever, for in the distance I could
hear the water as it fell over a number of rocks. There was a bend
ahead; and this passed, I fervently hoped to emerge into the open air,
on the opposite side of the mountain and close to the bank of the river
for which I was seeking.
At the bend the water deepened to my knees, and I paused to roll up my
trousers, in the meantime resting the torch against the wall, which
afforded a convenient slope for that purpose.
I had just finished arranging my trouser-legs to my satisfaction, when
a rumble of thunder, echoing and re-echoing throughout the cavern, made
me jump. My movement caused the cedar branch to roll from the rocks,
and it slipped with a hiss into the stream. I made a frantic clutch for
it, and, in my eagerness to save it from going out or getting too wet,
I fell on it in the very middle of the stream.
With a splutter I arose to find myself in utter darkness. Moreover,
the cedar branch was thoroughly soaked, and it would take a good many
matches to light it again. And what was still worse, every match my
pocket contained was soaked as badly as the torch.
I must confess that I was utterly downcast over my mishap, and if there
had been any dry ground handy I would have thrown myself down upon it
in abject despair. But there was only water around, and, disconsolate
as I was, I felt I must either go forward or backward.
How I became turned about I do not know, but certain it is that, in
essaying to return to the spot from whence I had come, I continued on
down the stream. I did not notice the mistake I had made until fifty
yards had been passed and I brought up against an overhanging rock with
my shoulder. Putting up my hands, I was dismayed to discover that the
passage-way was just high enough to clear my head.
Realizing that I must be walking into a trap, I endeavored to turn
about, when I slipped and went down again. Before I could gain my
footing I was swept around a bend and into a much broader stream. All
was as dark as before, and I soon learned that the bottom of the new
water-course was beyond my reach. Putting my hand up, I learned that
the rocky ceiling was not over two feet above the surface of the water,
and the distance between the two was gradually but surely growing less!