My uncle accompanied me in my next and several other visits to the upper
valley, with the result that we obtained as many specimens of the
beautiful orange birds as we required, and in addition several rare
kinds of humming-birds; but strangely enough, anxious as I was that my
uncle should see one of the pumas they were never encountered once.
The whole of the upper valley was very lovely, and the air, from its
being so high up among the mountains, deliciously cool.
"It seems a pity," my uncle said, "that nobody lives here." For as far
as we could make out in our many journeys, human beings had never
penetrated its solitudes.
"Yes," I said, on one of these occasions, "it is a glorious place,
uncle, and anyone might make it a lovely garden with hardly any trouble;
but I shouldn't like to live here after all."
"Why?" he said. "You seem very hard to please."
"The place isn't perfect, uncle," I said.
"No place is, but I don't see much to find fault with. Oh, you mean
that we can find no quetzals."
"No, I did not," I said. "I meant we find too many rattlesnakes."
"Ah, yes, they are a nuisance, Nat; but they always get out of our way
if they can, and so long as they don't bite us we need not complain.
Well, we have pretty well explored this valley, and it is time we tried
another. We must get farther to the south."
"Why not strike off, then, from the top of the great cliff above the
arch, and try and find where the stream dives down?"
"What!" he said; "you don't think, then, that the stream rises entirely
there?"
"No," I said; "I fancy it dives underground when it reaches a mountain,
and comes out where we saw."
"Quite likely," he said, jumping at the idea. "We'll try, for we have
had some beautiful specimens from the woodlands on the banks of that
stream. Perhaps we may find my golden-green trogons up there after all,
for I feel sure that there are some to be found up among the head-waters
of the river."
The next day preparations were made for our expedition, and as the
country we were in seemed to be so completely uninhabited from its
unsuitability for agricultural purposes, and the little attraction it
had for hunters other than such as we, there was no occasion to mind
leaving the boat.
The carpenter and Pete were in high glee at the news that they were to
accompany us, and in the intervals of packing up, their delight was
expressed by furtive punches and slaps delivered when one or the other
was not looking.
"I am glad, Mr Nat," Bill Cross said to me when we were alone for a few
minutes overnight. "I'm not grumbling, sir, and I like making cases and
cooking and washing, but I do feel sometimes as if I'd give anything to
be able to shoulder a gun and come along with you gents, shooting and
hunting for curiosities."
"Well, you'll have a fine chance now, Bill," I said.
"Yes, sir, and it'll just be a treat; for I haven't had much of the fun
so far, have I?"
"Fun?" I said.
"Yes, sir; it's fun to a chap like me who when he goes to sleep of a
night it's with the feeling that there's a day's work done."
"So it is with all of us," I said. "I work very hard; so does my
uncle."
"Yes, sir; but don't you see that what's work to you as can go and do is
seems like play to me as is obliged to stay in camp--I mean with the
boat. But as I was going to say, after a night's rest when one wakes up
it's always to begin another day's work! But there, don't you think I'm
grumbling, sir, because I arn't; for I've never been so happy in my life
before as since I've been out here with you and the doctor. What time
do we start to-morrow?"
"Breakfast before daylight, and start as soon as we can see," I replied.
"Right, sir; I'll be ready."
There was so little novelty in a fresh trip to me then, that I dropped
asleep as soon as I lay down in the tent under a big tree ashore, and it
seemed like the next minute when the carpenter in his gruff voice called
to us that breakfast was nigh ready.
I looked up, to see his face by the lanthorn he had brought alight, as
he hung it from a hook on the tent-pole; and then after making sure that
my uncle was awake, I hurried out into the darkness, where Pete was busy
frizzling bacon over the glowing embers, ran down into the fresh, cool
water for my bath, and came out with my blood seeming to dance through
my veins.
Our breakfast was soon dispatched, and before the sun rose the tent had
been fastened up, our guns and satchels shouldered and swung, and in
addition Cross carried a coil of rope and the lanthorn, now out and
freshly trimmed.
"Be useful," he said, with a sage nod of the head. "S'pose we shall be
out all night."
The next minute he and Pete shouldered the extra guns and the packs they
were to carry in case our trip lasted over more than a couple of days;
and we set off in single file steadily up the side of the stream between
the walls of rock, and sometimes wading across it to find better ground.
Twice over we waded in the middle of the water, where it was sandy, and
found it nowhere over our knees.
In due time we reached the spot where the walls of the gorge had drawn
together and the end was closed by the perpendicular mountain at whose
foot was the little natural arch out of which the water came gurgling
swiftly. Here my uncle stopped for the load-bearers to have a short
rest before we began to climb upward to Puma Vale, as I had dubbed it.
Pete and Cross used their loads as seats, and the latter, who had not
seen the place before, sat looking about attentively, while my uncle
took out his little double-glass and examined the towering mountain for
signs of birds upon the ledges or trees which clung to the sides.
The carpenter turned to me and nodded.
"Strange pretty place, Mr Nat," he cried, "and it's just like Pete said
it was. Going up yonder to try and find the river again farther on,
aren't we?"
"Yes, and I think we shall find it."
"Wouldn't it be better to keep on up it? Should be sure of it then."
"But don't you see that we can go no farther?" I said wonderingly.
"No, sir, I don't. Water's not above eighteen inches deep, and it's
nice sandy bottom."
"But it nearly touches the top of the arch," I said.
"Just there it do, sir, but that's only the doorway; it may be ever so
high inside. P'raps I'm wrong, though. You've tried it, then?"
"What, tried to get under that horrible dark arch? Oh, no!"
"Why not?" said the man coolly. "I don't see nothing horrid. Dessay
it'll be dark, but we've a lanthorn."
"But we should have to wade, and in the darkness we might go down some
horrible hole."
Cross shook his head.
"Nay," he said; "you might do that if the water was running the other
way downward, but we should have to go up stream with the water coming
to us. We shouldn't find any holes; what we should find more likely
would be waterfalls, and have to climb up 'em."
"What's that?" cried my uncle, who had caught part of what was said, and
he was told the rest.
"Let's have a look, Nat," he said, and slipping off our boots and
stockings we waded on over the soft sand to where the water came rushing
out through the arch, stooping down and peering in as we listened to the
gurgling and whispering of the water.
"Shall we have the lanthorn, and I'll stoop down and see if the roof
gets higher farther in?" I said.
"Would you mind doing it?" said my uncle.
"I don't think I should like it much," I said; "but I'll try."
"Let me go, Master Nat, sir," said Pete eagerly; "I won't mind."
"Sounds as if there's plenty of room inside, sir," said Cross, who had
followed our example and waded in.
"Let's see," said my uncle, stooping down, after cocking his gun. Then
holding it as if it were a pistol, he reached in as far as he could and
fired both barrels.
The reports sounded dull and smothered, and as we listened my uncle
said:
"It is only a narrow passage, I think."
Then he was silent, for the reports were repeated ten times as loudly,
and went on reverberating again and again, from farther and farther
away, till they gradually grew indistinct and strange, for there was a
strange dull roar growing louder and louder till the echoes were
drowned, while the roar seemed to come on and on, till without
hesitation on anyone's part we turned and ran splashing out of the
stream to the shore, to escape from a dark rushing cloud which came
streaming out of the mouth of the cave with screams, hisses, and
whisperings, out and away down the narrow ravine till it seemed to be
filled with birds and bats, while a strange black-beetly odour assailed
our nostrils.
"No doubt about there being plenty of room, lads," said my uncle, as he
laughed at our scared faces, for the sudden rush out was startling.
"Is them owls, sir?" said the carpenter, staring.
"No, no," replied my uncle; "they are something of the goat-sucker
tribe--night-birds which build in caves; but a good half of what we see
are bats."
"Yes, I can see they're bats, sir, and the biggest I ever did see.
Well, they won't hurt us, sir?"
"No, but they're terribly afraid we shall hurt them," said my uncle.
"Well, Nat, what do you say? Shall we explore the underground river?"
I felt as if I should like to say, "No, I would rather not," but the
pride within me made me take the other view of the matter.
"Yes," I said, "of course," and the sense of unwillingness was forgotten
in the desire to laugh at the look of horror in Pete's face as he stared
appealingly from one to the other.
"You won't mind, Cross?" said my uncle.
"No, sir; I should like it," replied the man.
"Light the lanthorn."
"Shall we take our loads with us, uncle?" I said.
"Certainly. If the way through is short we shall want them at the other
side. If it is long we shall want some refreshments on the way."
"But suppose--" I began, and then I stopped.
"Suppose what?" said my uncle.
"Suppose the river does not pass through the mountain, but comes from
deep down somewhere."
"The more interesting the discovery of its hidden source, my lad. But
that is not likely. Look at the rock. What is it--granite or gneiss?"
"No," I said; "limestone."
"Well, you ought to know how limestone ridges are honeycombed with
water-formed caverns. We have several examples at home. If this
subterranean river came bubbling up from somewhere in the interior and
the rock were granite, I should expect it to be hot."
"And it's quite cold, sir," said Cross.
"Oh, no, just pleasantly cool. I don't think there's a doubt about its
having its source higher up in the mountains; but whether it has dived
down for a few hundred yards or a few miles we can only know by
exploring."
"Well, Cross," I said to the carpenter, "will this be fun enough for
you?"
"Splendid, sir," said the man enthusiastically. "I never had a treat
like this."
"Master Nat," whispered Pete, "am I to come too?"
"Of course," I said. "Tuck up your trousers as high as you can."
"But suppose we have to swim, sir?"
"Look here, Pete," I said, "you don't want to come."
"No, sir. Can't help it, sir, but I never could a-bear the dark."
"Then I'll ask my uncle to let you stop behind."
"What!" cried the poor fellow fiercely, "leave me behind, and you go?
That you just won't, sir. I'd go if it was twice as dark."
I saw him set his teeth, and then, as my uncle gave the word, he climbed
up to a verdant cleft with Cross to cut four stout bamboos about six
feet long to act as walking-staves.
"We must always be ready to feel our way and try the depth," said Uncle
Dick; "and avoid any holes. If it grows deeper as we go on and there is
no bare rock at the sides, of course we must return."
A few minutes later our guns were slung across our backs, the loads
taken up, and, each armed with a staff, we made our start--Cross, as he
held the lanthorn, asking leave to lead the way.
"We shan't be able to do it, Master Nat," whispered Pete, as we followed
in turn, Pete last, for it was very hard work, the barrels of our guns
scraping again and again against the roof during the first twenty yards
or so; but Pete had hardly uttered the above words before I saw Cross
raise the lanthorn higher. Then my uncle began to walk erect, and
directly after I found on raising my staff that I could not touch the
roof, while a sharp whistle uttered by our lanthorn-bearer was echoed
from far on high.
"Plenty of room upwards, sir," cried Cross.
"Yes," said my uncle.
"Ugh! what a horrid place, Master Nat!" whispered Pete, who kept as
close to me as he could. "Do mind, sir."
"Mind what?" I said.
"The holes. If you step into one of them there's no knowing how deep
they are. They must be just like wells."
"How do you know?" I said gruffly; and he was silent, giving me time to
look to right and left and forward, as far as the light of the lanthorn
would allow.
There was not much to see--only a faint halo of light, with reflections
sometimes from dripping rocks; but it seemed that there was no shore to
the river on either side such as would afford footing, while as far as I
could make out the stream was about the same width as it was outside.
There was the dancing light on ahead, playing strangely on the surface
of the gliding waters, and all around black darkness, while the vast
cavern in which we were, seemed to be filled with strange sounds,
splashings, ripplings, whisperings, and their echoes.
"Hear that, Master Nat?" said Pete, getting close beside me and grasping
my arm.
"Of course I can," I said pettishly, for it was bad enough to suffer
from one's own feelings, without being troubled at such a time by
others.
"But--oh, there it goes again," he whispered.
"What goes again?" I said.
"That, sir. I dunno what it is, but there seems to be lots of 'em.
Bill Cross stirs 'em up with the stick and the light, and they swims off
both sides, and then you can hear 'em splashing with their tails as they
come back again."
"Nonsense!" I said. "That's all imagination."
"Oh, no, it aren't, sir," he whispered. "I say, what did you say was
the name of them big snakes that lives part of their time in the water?"
"Anacondas."
"That's them, sir. We've got all amongst 'em here, and they'll be
having one of us directly."
"Pooh! There's nothing alive in this dark place," I said scornfully.
"What! Why, wasn't it alive with birds and bats?"
"Oh, yes, but I don't believe there's a fish in these dark waters."
"Fish! Oh, I don't mind fish, sir, as long as they aren't sharks. It's
them conders I can't bear. It wouldn't so much matter if we were in the
dark, but we've brought a light to show 'em where we are."
"There are no snakes here," I said angrily.
"It's all very well for you to say so, Master Nat," he replied; "but you
just listen. There! Hear that?"
"Yes, the splash against the side of the wave we make in wading."
Pete was about to say something more, but just then my uncle turned his
head.
"Use your bamboo well, Nat," he said, "in case of there being any
cracks; but the bottom seems very level, and the depth keeps about the
same. Nice and cool here. Keep close up. What's that, Cross?"
"Only a stone standing right up, sir; water washes round it. It's best
to keep right in the middle, I think."
"You must judge about that," said my uncle. "Go on."
"How far do you think we've come, sir, now?"
"About a quarter of a mile, I should say."
"That's what I thought, sir," said the carpenter, and he waded steadily
on, with us following.
After a time it grew very monotonous, but we persevered, finding the
underground river sometimes a little deeper, then shallower, so that the
water rippled just above our ankles, while we knew at times that the
cavern was wide and high, at others that it closed in on either side,
and twice over the roof was so close that I could touch it with my
stick.
The times when it opened out were plain enough, for our splashings or
voices echoed and went whispering far away. But otherwise the journey
was very tame, and as the feeling of awe died away, the journey seemed
uncommonly free from danger, for I felt it was absurd to imagine the
waters to be peopled with strange creatures.
We had been wading on for quite a couple of hours, when the water began
to grow more sluggish, and to flow very quietly, rising, too, higher and
higher, till it was above our waists, and the light reflected from the
surface showed that it was very smooth.
"Keep on, sir?" said Cross.
"Yes," said my uncle. "Keep on till it nearly touches your chin. Then
we'll turn back."
Pete uttered a low groan, but followed in a despairing way, while we
went on for another quarter of an hour, with the water deeper and
deeper, and at last, to our great delight, my uncle said:
"There, the water is rippling up in my beard, so it is time to go back."
"Hah!" ejaculated Pete, and then he groaned, for Cross said:
"Not so deep now as it was ten minutes ago, sir."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, sir. I know by my stick. I keep my hand so that it touches the
water, and I've had to move it twice in the last five minutes. It's not
so deep now by three inches."
"Go on, then," said my uncle, and we followed, to find the water getting
shallower rapidly now. Ten minutes later it was below my waist, and in
another ten minutes not above mid-thigh; but it had evidently widened
out, for our voices seemed to go off far away into the distance, and my
uncle suddenly said:
"Why, Nat, the river must have widened out into a regular lake. How
shall we find the place where it narrows again?"
"Foller that there sound, sir, I think," said Cross.
"What sound?" I said.
"That, sir; listen. I can hear where it seems to be rushing in ever so
far away."
"Yes, I can hear it now," I said.
"Forward, then," said my uncle, and with the water once more but little
above our knees we waded steadily on after the light which Cross bore
breast-high.
"Cheer up, Pete," I said; "we must be getting on now. Why, if it came
to the worst we could turn back."
"Never find the way, sir," he said bitterly, and then he uttered a yell,
closely following upon a sharp ejaculation from the carpenter, who
suddenly placed his foot in some cavity of the smooth floor, fell
forward with an echoing splash, and the next moment the lanthorn
disappeared beneath the gleaming surface, leaving us in utter darkness.
_Wash, wash, ripple, ripple_ went the water, and the cries whispered
away as fading echoes, and then Pete's voice rose in a piteous wail.
"I knowed it, I knowed it," he said. "We shall never see the light
again. Oh, help, Master Nat, help! Here's one of them water-conders
got me by the leg to pull me down."
A cry that went to my heart and sent a shudder through every nerve, for
the darkness seemed so thick that it might be felt.