‘This is the hole the old man wants,’ he remarked, after hearing my
story. ‘He knew he couldn’t very well get down our rope and climb up
it again. But he knew that one of the ‘Snake’ drives ran nearly into
one of these. I suspect he must once have been employed in one or
other of the claims. Either that, or he’s been fossicking here before.
You know we’ve come across plenty of traces of such. Cunning old
dodger! But what _can_ he be after? I tell you what. We’ll both go
down and try another of the drives. We’ll leave _Kálee_ on top to
watch. I’ll bet you she’ll sing out pretty soon.’
I said nothing, for I was beginning to have doubts respecting
‘Brummy’s’ veracity.
This time I lowered Treloar first. Then, whilst he held the rope taut,
I slipped comfortably down.
We chose the opposite drive to the one I had explored, and moved in,
Treloar leading.
‘Hello!’ said he presently, ‘someone’s been here before us. See,
there’s been a good-sized pillar taken out. Why, here’s some of the
dirt left yet! And—good God!’ he suddenly exclaimed, ‘what’s this?’
Pushing up alongside him, and holding my candle forward, I saw, lying
at full length, a human skeleton. And yet it was not a complete
skeleton. Here and there, rags and tatters of flesh, dry and hard as
leather, stuck to the frame. A pair of heavy boots, with the ankle
bones protruding, lay detached, and remnants of clothing were still
visible. But the head was what fixed our gaze, the first horror of the
thing over. The fore part of the skull had been smashed completely
in. Near by lay a small driving-pick, thickly encrusted as with rust.
‘Neither rats, nor mice, nor snakes did that,’ whispered Treloar,
pointing to the awful fracture.
‘Surely,’ I replied, with a shiver, ‘this can’t be the thing old
Brummy’s searching for. No wonder he insisted on the place being
haunted.’
‘Not that poor valueless shell,’ answered my friend, who was now
kneeling, ‘but this! and this! and this!’ holding up, as he spoke,
three fine nuggets, whose dull gleam had caught his eye in the heap of
loose drift on which the skeleton partially lay.
‘Never!’ I exclaimed. ‘He never would have had the pluck to face back
again if _that_ is some of his work.’
‘If it is,’ said Treloar, quickly springing to his feet, thereby
bumping the roof with his head, ‘we shall soon hear of it. Back, man!
Back for your life! Hark! By G—d! there’s _Kálee_ now. Good dog, hold
him!’ as if it were possible for her to hear at that depth.
Pushing and scrambling along, we got to the entrance of the drive,
where the muffled sounds resolved themselves in a furious hullaballoo
of barks and curses. Then, as we paused for a moment, swish, swish,
down came the windlass rope, falling all of a heap. Just as we were on
the point of pushing out, what feeble light there was at the bottom
changed into total darkness, and, with a terrific smash, a heavy mass
fell at our feet. Then silence, broken only by low groans and hoarse
fierce growls.
With trembling hands we relit our candles, and saw more distinctly.
Upon the rope coils lay ‘Brummy,’ quite still. Squatted on his breast,
the great hound watched him narrowly—so narrowly that her lolling red
tongue nearly touched the face of the prostrate man. Blood oozed
slowly from his mouth and ears.
With reluctance the dog obeyed her master’s call, and, apparently
uninjured, crouched in a corner, panting loudly, while we examined
Brummy.
‘_Habet!_’ said Treloar, as we turned him over. ‘Back’s broken! See
here’ (producing a loaded revolver from a hip-pocket), ‘the old man
meant business. It’s only guessing, mind. But he probably thought we
should attempt to escape up the Snake Shaft, and would have shot us
off the ladders like magpies. Well done, Goddess _Kálee_. You’ve
proved yourself worthy of your name for once, anyhow.’
With a good deal of trouble we got the rope through the drive into the
Snake Shaft and on to our windlass again. It had been cut clean off
with a tomahawk. We hove the man and the dog up. We let the other
thing alone for a while. But the one we had thought dead was still
alive, with a little life. As the cool air blew on his face he opened
his eyes. It was all he could do. Black, beady eyes, once sharp and
piercing, now fast dulling with the death-film. And he lay there and
watched me, staring fixedly. It was a bright sunshiny day, the birds
were singing cheerily about us, and the wash of the sea was very
faint. From the expression on his face I thought he was listening to
it. Presently Treloar returned from the camp with some brandy, and
poured a spoonful between the clenched teeth.