LOST IN THE CAVERN.
They watched the funeral rites, and soon afterward discovered that they
were lost in the ground, and did not know their bearings. They thought
they must be several miles within, as the direction taken from the point
where they entered the cave was several days’ journey from the City of
On, and as they had traveled nearly due south, or as nearly as they
could calculate, they must now be a good many miles from the secret
door. They might take the same corridor which they had traversed in
coming to the lake, as this would take them directly to the hole near
which the rest of the excursionists were awaiting them; but this was
dangerous and it was quite possible that before they had gone far into
this, they would again fall into the hands of the natives.
They were in a quandary as to what to do. If they traveled to the east
in quest of the hidden door, they might not find it, and before they
could again reach the long corridor they would be overcome by hunger,
thirst and fatigue.
“What shall we do,” asked Harry.
“I think,” said Mr. Bruce, “it would be well to strike straight for the
north wall and when this is reached we may find another opening which
will take us in a roundabout way to the hole leading to the surface. You
know we left the windy corridor and took one to the right. This windy
corridor may lead to this cavern also. If this were so it would come out
further to the east, or may be at a point directly south of where we are
now.”
“Even if that should be so,” said Mr. Graham, “could we beat against
that wind for so many miles?”
“I am afraid not,” said Mr. Bruce, “but other corridors may lead from
it, which would carry us into one or the other halls which we have
already traversed, but at a point beyond all danger.”
“It is a chance, at least,” said Harry, “that is, if this corridor leads
into the cave.”
“Are we beneath the Land of On, now?” asked Onrai, who had spoken but
seldom since coming into this strange place.
“No, Onrai,” said Mr. Graham, “we are under the mountains or cliffs
which surround your country. These though may be said to belong to the
Land of On, or half of them at least, for they stand on the dividing
line.”
“It is strange,” said Onrai, “that I should never have known of all this
or that my people had never learned of it before me.”
For a second time Onrai had spoken thus and the events of the past few
hours seemed to have made a great impression on his mind; he could not
realize that all these things had existed for years and hundreds of
years. It all seemed so improbable to one who had been taught to believe
that his race was the only people and that his or their land above the
surface, was the only country. He had seen strange things in the past
few hours the only strange things he had ever seen in his life, with the
exception of our friends, if they may be classed under this category.
“I will have strange tales to tell my people,” said Onrai.
“You must not tell them of these things,” said Mr. Graham, “for it would
but make them discontented and long to see them also. It would be much
better never to mention these; you can easily evade the subject when
broached and our people will never say anything.”
“Do you think they would care to investigate?” asked Onrai. “I would
never care to come here again and I cannot believe that they would ever
care to visit this place if I should explain to them the danger and
trouble attending the trip.”
“Yes, it would be better, would it not?” said Mr. Bruce, “to obey the
laws which have governed you for centuries, and which forbids your
prying into anything which has not already been explained by these
laws.”
“I begin to think as you do,” said Onrai, “but I doubt my ability to
keep from my people, should they ask me, the things which I have learned
here. We have never had secrets, as you have taught me to call these
things, and I have not learned the art of withholding things which I do
not wish to say.”
“Nothing may be said to you about your journey, and then it would be
easy enough, would it not, to keep these things to yourself?”
“It may be so,” said Onrai.
They were traveling in a good easy walk, and were covering considerable
ground, but they were growing weary and it was decided to rest for a few
hours. This they proceeded to do, but before they stretched out on the
hard floor, they blew out the torches so that any of the natives, who
might be prowling about, would not see them and again be on them. The
journey had been long and they had had but little rest, so when they
finally lay down and stretched out their weary limbs, their eyes soon
closed and all was forgotten in a very few moments. The hard floor of
the cave, the memories of the recent events, the fear of not again
finding their way out of the dark hole, these things could not keep them
awake for they were worn out, mind and body, and once they had fallen
into a reclining position, they were soon oblivious to everything.
They had been sleeping for hours, it seemed to Harry, when he was
awakened by a distant cry. It sounded to him like the yell of the
natives, when they had first discovered the strangers. He looked about
him half dreamily but could see nothing and turned over, thinking he
would sleep awhile longer as the others had not yet awakened. He was
just falling off again, when that cry broke out just a little shriller
than before. This time Harry jumped to his feet, certain now of its
being a human cry. He looked about him, he even took a few steps away
from his sleeping companions, and stopping again, listened. No, he could
hear nothing; still, he was sure that he had not been mistaken. All
sleep had now been knocked out of him, and feeling refreshed he knew
that he had been sleeping for some time. He walked over to his
companions and awakened them, but before he had time to interfere or
explain to them what it was that had awakened him, Mr. Bruce had lit a
match, and with this, the torch. Harry made a movement as if he would
extinguish this, and not having heard the sound after this second
awakening, he thought there might be just a possibility of his having
been mistaken. But he told his companions of the occurrence so that they
might not blame him if anything should come of it later.
“I could not say that you were mistaken, Harry,” said Mr. Bruce, “but it
seems very probable that we would see some light if these natives were
again on our track.”
“Yes,” said Harry, “I don’t suppose they have dark lanterns which would
give them light, but would still keep the light hid from us.”
“They might have such lights,” said Mr. Graham, “but we would see the
reflection on the ground, at least.”
They had now started again when Harry stopped, saying:
“How do we know that we are moving in the right direction? We may have
turned completely in our moving about, and may now be making a bee line
for the lake.”
The party stopped, looking at each other in a puzzled way. Mr. Bruce’s
face lighted up though as he asked:
“Did you touch my torch, Harry?”
“No,” answered Harry.
“Well, and then we can depend on it, that we are moving in the same
direction that we were before, for I laid down the torch with the burnt
end looking in the direction we were going when I laid down, and when I
picked it up and lighted it again, after you had awakened us, I remember
I was standing facing the same way, and I did not turn again before we
started.”
“But that tells nothing,” said Mr. Graham, “for we may be walking round
and round in a circle not a mile in circumference. We have nothing to
guide us, and it very often occurs, in cases of this kind, that the
travelers who think themselves miles away from their starting point
will, the next moment, bring up at the same spot.”
The friends stood and looked at each other as Mr. Bruce said this; the
terrible truth flashing upon them. It was only too true; they were
helpless in this great dark cavern. They might wander until starved and
famished, and still be miles from the encircling wall, or may be but a
few feet from it. It would only be chance if they should come up to the
wall; not chance either, for even chance was barred in this Egyptian
darkness. It would be the hand of Providence which saved them if they
should ever now escape from this cave. If they had followed the lake
until the bridge had been reached, they could then have followed the old
path to the hidden door, and in that way have gotten out. But no, the
only thought they had in getting away from the scene of such carnage,
was to leave it far behind and to reach their friends as soon as
possible.
They realized their mistake, but now it was too late. The thought
completely prostrated them as its full significance dawned upon them.
“But we must not give up while there is strength left,” said Mr. Bruce;
“so let us go on in some way, even if we are bearing right away from our
goal. We may be right, you know. Anyway we will never find our way out
of this by standing still.”
They again took up their way, but with a halfheartedness, which made
every step a task and every movement painful. It was strange how these
strong men, who had just gotten up from a refreshing sleep, well and
hearty, should so soon be changed to despondent beings; their faces
looking years older and their gait indicating feebleness. Such is the
change which the awful sense of complete helplessness had wrought in
these men. They had hit upon a possibility, even a probability, and all
else had been forgotten from that moment they had given themselves up
for lost, lost in this vast cavern, which had probably been the tomb of
many others.
When these thoughts took possession of them, they could not be persuaded
that there was any possibility of escape, and it was no wonder they lost
hope so quickly, for here was a cave miles in extent, without a guiding
light or post to beckon them on. All was dark and still as the death
which would so soon claim them. For some strange reason, Onrai seemed to
be more affected than any of the others. He said but little, but his
face was painful to look at, so frightfully changed had it become. He
shuffled along, his shoulders bent and feet dragging over the ground
like a man of eighty.
Occasionally he would mutter to himself:
“I have missed my Day of Resis!”
This seemed to be the thing which was worrying him.
“Wait,” said Harry, and they all stopped suddenly, for this was the
first word which had been spoken by any of the party excepting Onrai.
“When wandering in the cave, as we came,” went on Harry, “I remember
seeing pieces of coal lying along the path. The thought has just
occurred to me that these marked the path, or else how could the natives
find their way. Now, if we could find these.”
“But these would be as hard to find as the border wall,” said Mr.
Graham.
“True,” said Harry, his face again falling, “but it is another chance
and this makes two.”
This cheered them but little, however, and despair took possession of
them completely a few moments later. They ought to have reached the wall
hours before, yet there were no signs of it. Suddenly they were brought
to a stand by the same cry, which had awakened Harry. There was no
mistaking it now; it was human and right in front of them.
Our friends stopped. There was no mistaking the cry now; it was human
and only a few feet ahead of them. They peered through the gloom but
could see nothing; the man, whoever he was, could not be far away, so
they moved forward and a moment later a dark mass was seen lying on the
floor of the cave just ahead of them. As they hurried up to this,
another cry went up from the heap. Our friends now came up to the object
and found it to be a native. As they approached and stood over him, he
raised his head and looked at them in a half-scared way and then tried
to crawl away from them. Seeing them following him he raised to his feet
and staggered along for a short distance but again fell. The party now
saw that his left side from knee to shoulder was badly lacerated, but
how had he come into this condition? Had he been wounded in a fight or
in a blast and brought to this fearful place to die?
Although this man was probably one of their captors and would have
helped to kill them if they had not turned the tables on them, still the
man’s plight was so pitiful and his condition so helpless that their
sympathy went out to him at once and coming up close to where he had
fallen, Mr. Graham stooped and taking the bag of water from his back,
poured its contents over the raw wounds of the native. He writhed under
the momentary pain, but realizing that they wished to help him, he tried
to facilitate their good acts by turning his side to them, exposing the
wound. He kept looking at Onrai, as if the King had a fascination for
him, which he could not resist and at last he raised his hand and
motioned to Onrai to approach. Onrai came up to him and the native
looked at him for fully a moment, then addressed him in the language of
On.
Onrai started back completely surprised by hearing his own language
spoken by this man. The native’s face fell, showing that he had built
much on this disclosure to the King and the result had bitterly
disappointed him.
“Speak to him, Onrai,” said Mr. Bruce.
Onrai again stepped up to the native and asked him how he had become
acquainted with his language.
“The story is long and I am hurt,” answered the man, “but if you will
carry me to the lake, where my companions were killed, and let me there
wash my wounds, I will tell you all.”
“The lake,” said Mr. Graham, “why, my good man, that is many miles
away.”
“No,” answered the man, “it is only a short distance from here.”
Our friends looked at each other with astonishment; they had seen the
lake upon their entrance; their fears then had been realized; they had
been describing a circle and were now but a few feet from the starting
point. But there was now hope and the men carefully lifted the native
and carried him in the direction indicated by him and in less than five
minutes they were again standing by an underground lake. The man was
laid on the floor of the cave and his wounds washed again with water.
Harry tore from his tunic a piece of the silk and this was bound about
the wound.
“Do you know a way by which we can reach the death chamber without
traversing that part of the cave where your people live?” Onrai asked.
“I do,” said the man, “but I could not explain so that you could
understand.”
“But if we took you with us, could you guide us?” asked Onrai.
“But am I strong enough to walk?” asked the man, and he tried to rise to
his feet.
“You may be able to walk a part of the way and we will carry you the
remainder,” said Onrai.
“I can guide you,” said the stranger, and his face lighted up with hope
as he thought that he might yet see that great outside world of which he
had heard. The more the native thought of this, the more probable it
seemed to him and with this great hope springing into life came renewed
energy, and after awhile, when Mr. Bruce had bandaged the wounds well
and he had been given something to eat he stood erect and declared that
he could walk as well as ever. But this he could not do, although with
help he got along very well for a time, and then Onrai picked him up in
his powerful arms and carried him as if he were a babe.
Before leaving the lake they had caught some fish after the method of
the natives and had cooked them over a slow fire. This they hoped would
last them until they reached the upper world. They found the line of
coals and found it easy work to follow it. The way was long but not
tedious, still there was that desire to leave this place which made the
time long and the journey anything but pleasant. The native was doing
very well with the help of Onrai and would very frequently relate such
things concerning his people and country which would help to while away
the time.
“We do not know,” said he, “when first our people came into this
underground world, nor do we know from whence they came; but we do know
from traditions handed down, that we have had this world many, many
ages. Then our old tunnels have been abandoned many ages, how many we
know not, nor do we know why these have been laid aside for new ones,
unless it be because new ones had to be built in order to keep down our
population.”
“What do you mean by that?” inquired Mr. Bruce.
“Why,” said the native, “our people increase very rapidly and we can
only keep them within bounds by constantly blasting these tunnels. Each
blast costs the life of one of our men.”
“But what of the women,” asked Mr. Bruce.
“The women and criminals are all fed to the water-monster,” said the
man.
“But are none of these placed in the death chamber?” again asked Mr.
Bruce.
“None,” answered the native. “The death chamber is only for the men. At
the end of these long tunnels, is the Tunnel of Wind, which keeps a
circulation of air in all of them. The wind flies through this tunnel,
making no sound and giving no warning, and when once in its awful clutch
you are lost.”
“But how do you embalm the bodies of your men,” questioned Mr. Bruce.
“With a preparation of coal and yellow stone, which we find in one part
of our country. These are pounded into a powder and are then mixed with
fish oil and rolled into small cakes and left to dry. These we burn
beneath the bodies and the smoke puts them in a state of preservation.”
Our friends had now reached the wall and were about to enter the tunnel
indicated by the native when a body of natives jumped forth only a few
feet distant and rushed onto them. The explorers started back and seeing
that there was a great number of them, decided on retreating. They
accordingly followed the wall to the east, running as fast as they could
with the wounded native. The natives were following them closely, and
our friends, seeing another tunnel, opening out from the cave, turned
into it and hurried forward. The natives were hurrying after them. On
they rushed covering mile after mile, until breath and strength were
nearly exhausted. The natives had called out to them in their language
to drop the one of their number which Onrai was carrying. The man
interpreted this to Onrai but it only had the effect of making him hold
him all the tighter. But after a while the natives began to drop off one
by one and our friends were thinking of turning on them, when they saw
their tunnel ending in one running at right angles with it. Hurriedly
they pushed forward and were just on the edge of the cross-tunnel, when
the native called out:
“Not in there, it is the Tunnel of Wind;” but it was too late. They were
launched into it and were even now in the power of the mighty wind.