A CAVERN OF MYSTERY.
Snorting and plunging, White-eye wheeled and dashed off down the
hillside. When they had first re-captured him, the two boys had, for
greater ease in leading him, fastened the rope through their belts.
They were heartily sorry for this now.
As the pony turned and plunged off, they only managed to keep their
feet by an effort, and the next instant they were perforce flying down
the steep mountain side attached to the leading rope of the frightened
pony.
Fortunately, the going was too rough for White-eye to be able to make
his full speed, otherwise they might have been dragged off their feet
and seriously injured. As it was, their united weight and the rugged
hillside both combined to slacken the pony’s runaway gallop and
enabled them to keep upright. But even so, they were hauled through
brambles and brush, scratching their hands unmercifully and tearing
even the stout fabric of their hunting clothes.
It was an extraordinary situation. First came the terrified pony,
making every effort to escape from the bear. Behind him, towed at
the end of the rope and helpless to relieve the stress of their
predicament, came the two boys. Behind them again lumbered the bear,
apparently not in any particular hurry, but still getting over the
ground uncomfortably fast for those he was pursuing.
The two boys had no opportunity to exchange words as they were
remorselessly hastened along. Hardware made an effort to reach his
knife, but he was unable to do so and carry out his intention of
cutting the rope. Even if he could have done this, their situation
would not have been much improved. There would still have remained the
bear to be reckoned with, and both boys were so badly flustered that
it is doubtful if they could have used their rifles effectively.
Suddenly Harry Ware, who had cast a glance behind him, gave a yell.
“He’s coming faster!”
The bear had quit his leisurely rolling canter and was now advancing at
a pace that appeared incredibly swift for so cumbrous and awkward an
animal. He looked like a flying ball of fur as his short legs flashed
under his heavy body.
It seemed inevitable that the chase was to come to a sudden
termination. Every instant the frightened boys expected to feel the
creature’s great claws pull them down.
But suddenly, something as startling as it was entirely unexpected
occurred.
White-eye vanished from view ahead of them.
One instant they had seen him straining and tugging on the rope by
which they were being so unwillingly towed along. The next minute the
earth appeared to open and swallow him.
Simultaneously both boys were jerked off their feet by a sharp tug
on the rope. They felt themselves being rushed forward over the rough
ground and yanked through a clump of scratching “scotch-cap” bushes.
A moment later they both gave a shout of terror as they felt themselves
falling into a dark hole. Then came a plunge and a sudden bump as
they fetched up their career through space by abruptly alighting on
something soft and warm.
For a time, so badly shaken were they by their fall and by terror, that
neither spoke. Then Persimmons’ voice came through the darkness.
“Rocketing radishes! are you dead, Hardware?”
“No, are you?” came the answer in a quavering voice.
“Not even scratched. But where under the sun are we?”
“At present we are lying on White-eye’s body. Poor brute, I guess he’s
dead.”
“But he saved our lives. If he hadn’t fallen first to the bottom of
this hole, or whatever it is, we’d have been killed or had our bones
broken, sure.”
“Not much doubt of that. But what are we going to do now?”
“Get out of this place.”
“But how? Can you suggest a way? Look up above.”
Peering over the top of the hole, which was some twenty feet above
them, was a shaggy head. As he gazed over into the hole down which his
prey had so unexpectedly vanished, the bear gave a growl and shook his
great head, while his red jaws slavered and dripped.
“Well, this hole in the ground, or cave, or whatever it is, saved us
from that bear at any rate,” declared Persimmons.
“Yes; but it looks as if we had got out of the frying pan into the
fire,” retorted his companion disgustedly. “Why didn’t we think to use
our rifles? We’re a fine pair of hunters, we are.”
“We couldn’t have used them, anyhow,” was Persimmons’ response.
“Why not?”
“Because, like Mazeppa, we were hitched to a fiery steed, only we
trailed along instead of being on his back. Poor beast, he must have
been killed instantly by his tumble.”
“I guess so. His head is doubled under his body. His neck must have
been broken.”
“Well, this is a fine end to our horse hunt. I guess we’ll have to wait
here till they come along and find us.”
“Looks that way,” was the moody reply. “At any rate I’m going to have a
shot at the cause of all our trouble.”
“All right, if you miss, give me a chance at him.”
Harry Ware raised his rifle and fired directly at the bear’s head as
the great, shaggy creature peered down into the dark hole. His shot was
echoed almost simultaneously by a report from Persimmons’ rifle. There
was no need for a third.
The great head sank lifelessly and hung limply over the edge of the
hole above them.
“Good work!” cried young Simmons. “Now, if we can only get out of here
we can bring back a pelt that will astonish them.”
“True enough; but the problem is how to get out.”
“Let’s light up and see what sort of a place we have got into.”
As he spoke Persimmons struck a match from his pocket case and a yellow
glow illumined their surroundings. They had fallen into a sort of
rift in the hillside with a narrow opening in it through which poor
White-eye had plunged, dragging them with him. But the light of the
match, even in the brief period it endured, showed them that it would
be impossible to clamber out by the way they had so unceremoniously
entered. The hole, or rift, was larger at the bottom than the top, and
they would have had to be able to walk upside down, like flies on a
sloping ceiling, to regain the mouth of the hole.
It was plain that they must find some other means of egress. But how
this was to be accomplished was a puzzling question.