BURIED IN AN UNDERGROUND RIVER.
When Mark felt himself flying from his horse's back through the air, he
of course expected to strike heavily on the ground, and nerved himself
for the shock. To his amazement, instead of striking on solid earth he
fell into a mass of shrubbery that supported him for a moment, and then
gave way. He grasped wildly at the bushes; but they were torn from his
hands, and he felt himself going down, down, down, and in another
instant was plunged deep into water that closed over his head. He came
to the surface, stunned and gasping, only to find himself borne rapidly
along by a swift current. He did not for a moment realize the full
horror of his situation, and with the natural instinct of a swimmer
struck out vigorously.
He had taken but a few strokes when his hand hit a projecting rock, to
which he instinctively clung, arresting his further progress. To his
surprise, on letting his body sink, his feet touched bottom, and he
stood in water not much more than waist deep, but which swept against
him with almost irresistible force.
His first impulse was to scream, "Frank! oh, Frank!" but only a dull
echo mocked him, and he received no reply but the rush and gurgle of
the water as it hurried past.
Then in an instant he comprehended what had happened. He had been flung
into a "sink hole," and was now buried in the channel of one of those
mysterious underground rivers of which Mr. March had told them a few
nights before. That was at home, where he was surrounded by his own
loving parents and friends. Should he ever see them again? No; he was
buried alive.
Buried alive! he, Mark Elmer? No--it couldn't be. It must be a dreadful
dream, a nightmare; and he laughed hysterically to think how improbable
it would all seem when he awoke.
But he felt the cold water sweeping by him and knew it was no dream.
The reality stunned him, and he became incapable of thinking; he only
moaned and called out, incoherently, "Mother! father! Ruth!"
After a while he began to think again. He had got to die. Yes, there
was no escape for him. Here he must die a miserable death, and his body
would be swept on and on until it reached the Gulf and drifted out to
sea; for this running water must find its way to the sea somehow.
If he could only reach that sea alive! but of course that was
impossible. Was it? How far is the Gulf? And the poor boy tried to
collect his thoughts.
It couldn't be more than five miles in a straight line, nor, at the
most, more than three times as far by water. Perhaps there might be
more "sink holes" opening into this buried river. Oh, if he could only
reach one of them! He would then die in sight of the blessed stars, and
perhaps even live to see the dear sunlight once more.
These thoughts passed through his mind slowly, but they gave him a ray
of hope. He determined that he would make a brave fight with death, and
not give up, like a coward, without making even an effort to save
himself.
Thus thinking, he let go his hold of the projection to which he had
clung all this time, and allowed himself to be carried along with the
current. He found that he could touch bottom most of the time, though
every now and then he had to swim for greater or less distances, but he
was always carried swiftly onward. He tried to keep his hands extended
in front of him as much as possible, to protect himself from projecting
rocks, but several times his head and shoulders struck heavily against
them.
Once, for quite a distance, the roof was so low that there was barely
room for his head between it and the water. A few inches lower would
have drowned him, but it got higher again, and he went on.
Suddenly the air seemed purer and cooler, and the current was not so
strong. Mark looked up and saw a star--yes, actually a star--twinkling
down at him like a beacon light. He was in water up to his shoulders,
but the current was not strong; he could maintain his footing and hold
himself where he was.
He could only see one star, so he knew the opening through which he
looked must be very small; but upon that one star he feasted his eyes,
and thought it the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
How numb and cold he was! Could he hold out until daylight? Yes, he
would. He would see the sunlight once more. He dared not move, nor even
change his position, for fear lest he should lose sight of the star and
not be able to find it again.
So he stood there, it seemed to him, for hours, until his star began to
fade, and then, though he could not yet see it, he knew that daylight
was coming.
At last the friendly star disappeared entirely, but in its place came a
faint light--such a very faint suspicion of light that he was not sure
it was light. Slowly, very slowly, it grew brighter, until he could see
the outline of the opening far above him, and he knew that he had lived
to see the light of another day. Then Mark prayed, prayed as he had
never dreamed of praying before. He thanked God for once more letting
him see the blessed daylight, and prayed that he might be shown some
means of escape. He prayed for strength to hold out just a little while
longer, and it was given him.
When Frank March was drawn to the surface, and said he had been let
down into a swift current of water, Mr. Elmer buried his face in his
hands, and groaned aloud in the agony of his grief.
"Why did I bring him to this place?" sobbed the stricken man. "To think
that his life should be given for mine. If we had only stayed in the
North my life might have been taken, but his would have been spared. O,
Heavenly Father! what have I done to deserve this blow?"
For some time the others respected his grief, and stood by in silence.
Then Mr. March laid his hand gently on the shoulder of his friend, and
said,
"You are indeed afflicted, but there are others of whom you must think
besides yourself. His mother and sister need you now as they never
needed you before. You must go to them." Turning to Frank, he said, "I
will go home with Mr. Elmer, but I want you to ride with Jan in the
direction you think this stream takes, and see if you can find its
outlet or any other traces of it. There is a bare possibility that we
may recover the body."
So they separated, the two gentlemen riding slowly and sadly homeward,
and Frank and Jan riding southward with heavy hearts.
They had not gone more than half a mile when they came to a little
log-house in the woods, and as the sun had risen, and they and their
horses were worn out with their night's work, they decided to stop and
ask to be allowed to rest a while, and for something to eat for
themselves and their animals.
The owner of the house was a genuine "cracker," or poor white--lean,
sallow, and awkward in his movements, but hospitable, as men of his
class always are. In answer to their request he replied,
"Sartin, sartin; to be sho'. Light down, gentleMEN, and come inside. We
'uns is plain folks, and hain't got much, but sich as we has yo' 'uns
is welkim to. Sal, run fo' a bucket of water."
As Frank and Jan entered the house, a little-barefooted, tow-headed
girl started off with a bucket. They were hardly seated, and their host
had just begun to tell them about his wonderful "nateral well," when a
loud scream was heard outside. The next instant the little girl came
flying into the house, with a terror-stricken face, and flung herself
into her father's arms.
"Why! what is it, gal? So, honey, so! Tell yer daddy what's a-skeering
of ye"; and the man tried to soothe the child, and learn the cause of
her sudden fright.
At length she managed to sob out, "It's the devvil, pa; the devvil's in
our well, an' he hollered at me, an' I drapped the bucket an' run."
At these words Frank sprang to his feet, exclaiming, "What! a voice in
the well? And you said it was a natural well, mister? Oh, Jan, can it
be?" And then turning fiercely to the man, "Show us to the well, man,
quick! What do you sit there staring for?"
Without waiting for a reply he rushed from the door, and running along
a little pathway leading from it, was in another minute lying flat on
the ground, looking down a hole of about six feet in diameter, and
shouting, "Halloo! down there."
Yes, there was an answer, and it was, "Help! he-l-p!"
The two men had followed Frank from the house, and Jan had been
thoughtful enough to bring with him the Manila rope that had hung at
the pommel of Frank's saddle.
There was no need for words now. Frank hastily knotted the rope under
his arms, handed it to Jan, and saying, "Haul up gently when I call,"
slipped over the curb and disappeared.
One, two, three minutes passed after the rope slackened in their hands,
showing that Frank had reached the bottom, and then those at the top
heard, clear and loud from the depths, "Haul away gently."
Very carefully they pulled on that rope, and up, up, up towards the
sunlight that his strained eyes had never thought to see again, came
Mark Elmer.
When Jan, strong as an ox, but tender as a woman, leaned over the curb
and lifted the limp, dripping figure, as it were from the grave, he
burst into tears, for he thought the boy was dead. He was still and
white, the merry brown eyes were closed, and he did not seem to breathe.
But another was down there, so they laid Mark gently on the grass, and
again lowered the rope into the well.
The figure that appeared as they pulled up this time was just as wet as
the other, but full of life and energy.
"Carry him into the house, Jan. He isn't dead. He was alive when I got
to him. Put him in a bed, and wrap him up in hot blankets. Rub him with
whiskey! slap his feet!--anything!--only fetch him to, while I go for
help."
With these words Frank March, wet as a water-spout, and more excited
than he had ever been in his life, sprang on his horse and was off like
a whirlwind.
That that ride did not kill the horse was no fault of Frank's; for when
he was reined sharply up in the "Go Bang" yard, and his rider sprang
from his back and into the house at one leap, he staggered and fell,
white with foam, and with his breath coming in gasps.
In the sitting-room Mr. Elmer was just trying to break the news of
Mark's death to his wife as gently as possible, when the door was flung
open, and Frank, breathless, hatless, dripping with water, and pale
with excitement, burst into the room shouting,
"He's alive!--he's alive and safe!"
Over and over again did he have to tell the marvellous story of how he
had found Mark standing up to his neck in water, at the bottom of a
natural well, nearly dead, but still alive; how he had knotted the rope
around him and sent him to the top, while he himself stayed down there
until the rope could again be lowered; how Mark had fainted, and now
lay like dead in a farm-house--before the parents could realize that
their son, whom they were a moment before mourning as dead, was still
alive.
Then the mules were hitched to the farm-wagon, a feather-bed and many
blankets were thrown in, Mr. and Mrs. Elmer, Ruth, and Frank climbed
in, and away they went. John Gilpin's ride was tame as compared to the
way that wagon flew over the eight miles of rough country between
Wakulla and the house in which Mark lay, slowly regaining consciousness.
The meeting between the parents and the son whom they had deemed lost
to them was not demonstrative; but none of them, nor of those who saw
it, will ever forget the scene.
A solemn "Thank God!" and "My boy! my darling boy!" were all that was
heard; and then Mark was lifted gently into the wagon, and it was
driven slowly and carefully home.
An hour after he was tucked into his own bed Mark was in a raging
fever, and screaming, "The star! the star! Please let me see it a
little longer." And it was many a day before he again left the house,
and again breathed the fresh air out-of-doors.