There was a loud splashing noise, another cry, and the gurgling made by
someone being dragged under water; and then, just as I felt that the
horror was greater than I could bear, the carpenter cried:
"What's the matter with you? Don't make a row like that."
"I--I felt something ketch hold of me and pulling me down."
"Something! Do you call me something?" growled the carpenter. "Of
course I catched hold of you. You'd catch hold if you tumbled as I did.
Bad job about the light, master."
"Yes, a very bad job," said my uncle's voice out of the darkness. "How
was it?"
"Stepped down into some hole, sir. Felt myself going right into a
crack-like sort o' place."
"All stand still, then," cried my uncle, "while I strike a match.
Where's the lanthorn?"
"Oh, I've got that fast, sir; but you won't get the wick to light, I'm
afraid, now."
"Here, stop!" I cried, as a sudden feeling of delight shot through me.
"I can see daylight yonder."
"Bravo! Well done, Nat!" cried my uncle. "It's a long way off, but
there's a faint gleam yonder in the direction from which that sound of
falling water comes. Let me lead now, Cross. I think I can manage
without a light."
"Better feel about well, sir, with your stick," said the carpenter.
"That hole I trod in was rather awkward."
"I'll mind," said my uncle; "follow me close," and he began to wade in
the direction of the faint gleam of light.
"Did you get wet, Pete?" I said.
"Wet, sir? He pulled me right under water. It's buzzing in my ears
now."
"Better than being pulled under by a water-snake, Pete," I said, and he
gave a shivering shudder as we followed on without either coming across
the hole, and at the end of a quarter of an hour the light ahead was
rapidly growing plainer, while the roar of falling water became louder
and echoed through the vast cavern over whose watery floor we
progressed.
In another half-hour's slow wading, we were able to make out our
position, one which now became more striking minute by minute, for we
could see that we were in a vast chasm whose bottom was the rushing
foaming river along which we were wading. It was some fifty feet wide,
and the roof overhead nearly as much, while right in front, at the
distance of a couple of hundred yards, and facing us as it now sent
ever-changing flashes and reflections of light into the cavern, was the
great fall whose waters thundered as they dived from somewhere out of
sight into a huge basin whose overflowings formed the underground river
along which we journeyed.
The scene became more beautiful minute by minute, the noise more
deafening; and at last we stopped short, warned by the increasing depth
of the water, and the sight of the great pool into which the cascade
thundered down.
We were standing in the beautiful green twilight water to the middle,
but no one for a time wished to stir, the scene was so grand, made more
beautiful as it was from time to time by a gleam of sunshine shooting
down across the faint mist of spray which floated upwards, and wherever
this bright light fell we had glimpses of what seemed like fragments of
a broken rainbow.
"Very beautiful, Nat," said my uncle at last, "but the floor here is
rather damp; I am tired and hungry; and we have to get out. Which way
shall we try?"
"Not go back, uncle," I said quickly. "Let's get into the sunshine
again."
"Certainly; but how? We can't wade any farther without risk of
drowning. What do you say, Cross?"
"Yonder's an awful pit, sir," said the carpenter.
"I could climb over the stones at the side there," said Pete suddenly.
"Well, I think it possible," said my uncle. "But where's that rope?"
"I've got it here, sir, round me," said Pete.
"Well, we'll make one end fast round you, and pay out the line as you
climb, so that we can haul you in if you fall into the deep water. Will
you try?"
"Oh, yes, sir; I'll try," cried Pete.
We made for the side, to find it slightly shallower, and after knotting
the rope round his waist, Pete was started up the rocks, which proved,
in spite of their threatening appearance much less difficult than we had
anticipated, so that in a few minutes the lad had climbed to the level
of the top of the falls, where he stood on a broad shelf, and by the
help of the rope hauled up our baskets and satchels.
This done, Pete threw the rope down to us, then it was made fast to my
waist and I began to climb, Pete hauling in the slack as I advanced,
finding the way giddy but easy to climb. The danger was a slip upon the
mossy rocks, wet with the fine spray which rose from the awful watery
pit below.
But the touch of the rope gave confidence, and in a few minutes I was by
Pete's side, ready to throw down the rope to Cross, who came up with the
sure-footedness of a sailor. Then the packs were hauled up, and my
uncle followed.
Our task was not yet done, for we had to take to the river again, just
beyond the edge of the fall, a hundred feet above where we had waded
before, and found ourselves in a narrow gorge with almost perpendicular
sides covered with tree, bush, creeper, and wonderful ferns, all made
glorious by the sunshine and blue sky.
The water was shallow, and we made fair progress, always looking the
while for some way out of the gorge, whose beauties tempted us to
linger, for we were once more among flowers, insects, and birds, one of
the first of which sailed slowly overhead and across the gorge--an eagle
with widespread pinions.
"Out of shot," said my uncle, as we stood knee-deep watching the large
bird till it floated right out of sight.
"And not the sort of specimen we want, if it were in, uncle," I said.
"Quite right, Nat. Look yonder at the finches and those lovely blue
creepers; but they're not what we want."
"No, uncle," I said; "I'm looking for what we do want. Ought not the
quetzals to be found in a place like this?"
"We are in their region, Nat," he replied, "and that is all I can say.
We know so little about them, the skins having been mostly supplied by
the Indians. But these rocks and patches of timber ought to be their
home."
"There's a place, sir, where we might climb up out of this hollow," said
Cross just then, and he pointed to a mere gash in the rocks, down which
a tiny rivulet trickled.
It proved to be passable, and at the end of another quarter of an hour
we were upon fairly level ground, open, and in the full sunshine, ready
to rest, bask, dry our clothes, and sit down to what seemed to me the
most delicious meal I had ever eaten.
In spite of the length of time which we had apparently spent in the
darkness, it was still early in the day, and it was not long, after a
good rest upon a hot rock in the sunny glow, before the two sufferers
from their plunge were able once more to go about in quite dry clothes.
By this time we had made use of pocket compass and glass, taking
bearings, so to speak, and pretty well made out our position to be only
a few miles to the south and west of Puma Valley, while my uncle was in
ecstasies with the promising appearance of the district, for as a
collecting ground we had mountain, forest, plain, valley, and the lovely
river-gorge waiting to be farther explored.
"If the quetzals are to be found, Nat," said my uncle, "we ought to see
them here."
"What about going back, uncle?" I said, interrupting him.
"Back!" he cried. "What, are you tired already?"
"No, I was thinking about the possibility of getting up the tent and
some more stores so as to be able to thoroughly explore these higher
grounds."
"Yes," he said; "that's what we must do. I fancy we can make our way
back without going through that hole again; but it was well worth the
trouble, since it led us to this lovely ravine."
"Pst!" I whispered; "Pete sees something. He is making signs. Look,
he is signing to those trees."
We seized our guns and advanced cautiously in the direction pointed out,
separating so as to cover all the ground, in the full expectation of
seeing some rare bird or another take flight. But we met on the other
side of the cluster of trees indicated, after having passed right
through without a sign.
"Gone on to the next patch, uncle," I whispered; and we went on again,
carrying out the same plans; and a finch or two took flight, but nothing
more.
Again we went on, and tried a third little clump, but with no better
fortune, and we stopped and looked at each other.
"Whatever it was, it is too cunning for us, Nat," said my uncle, "so we
may as well give it up, for we could go on like this till dark."
"Yes," I said, with a sigh, "and it's hot and tiring work."
"Never mind; let's go back now," he said. "We don't even know what it
was the lad saw."
We began to retrace our steps, keeping a sharp look-out, but seeing
nothing but some active lizards sunning themselves among the rocks, and
a rattlesnake, which we carefully left at rest; but before we were
half-way back to where we had left our companions we came upon them with
the spare guns.
"Haven't you shot it, sir?" asked Pete, staring hard at my uncle.
"No, we have not even seen it, whatever it is," said my uncle, smiling.
"Wonderful handsome bird, sir, with long blue and green and red and
yellow feathers in its tail."
"Macaw--Ara," said my uncle; "flying across from tree to tree?"
"Yes, sir, I daresay it was," said Pete; "but it wasn't flying; it was
on the ground, and when we saw it, in it went among the bushes quite
slowly, didn't it, Bill?"
"You said it did, my lad," replied Cross. "I didn't see it."
"Long green, blue, red, and yellow feathers in its tail?" said my uncle.
"Yes, sir; that's it," looking up.
"And on the ground?"
"Yes, sir."
"Running?"
"Oh, no, sir, it was just creeping quietly along when I beckoned you."
"I don't know any bird answering your description but a macaw," said my
uncle. "How big was it?"
"As big as a barn-door cock, sir, I think."
"Look here, Pete; you've seen macaws, or aras, as they call them. Mr
Nat here shot one days ago."
"Them big poll parrots, sir? Oh no, it warn't one of them, sir. I know
that sort well enough."
"I hope we shall come upon it another day then," said my uncle.
We had a short rest, and then turned in the direction of the river-gorge
again, its presence simplifying our position, for we had only to steer
south at any time to come upon the steep, well-wooded ravine, along
whose sides we had constant peeps of the clear flowing water, finding
several places where we could descend, while here the variety of birds,
insects, and reptiles was wonderful, and had we wanted them we could
soon have killed more than we should have been able to preserve.
But with most of them my uncle was familiar, and unless the specimen
seen was something rare, he let it go in peace.
"Fortune may favour us, Nat," he said, "and we may come upon the home of
the beautiful trogons, especially the splendid trogon, or quetzal. Then
we must make the best of our opportunities."
I had expected that we should make our way back to the boat-camp that
night, but we spent so much time exploring the wonders and beauties of
the gorge, that evening was coming on when we stopped about a mile
higher along the stream than the spot where we first climbed up, and as
we were well supplied with provisions, and were pretty well fagged, my
uncle decided to camp in the shelter of the rocky side of the ravine for
the night.
So Pete was set to collect dead wood for a fire, Cross descended with
our kettle to fill it below, and before long we were partaking of a
capital meat-tea by the light of the fire; while we strolled a little
way from our camp to listen to the various sounds of the night, it
seemed as if a fresh world of inhabitants had awakened, and for hours we
listened to the strange notes of bird and insect, and watched with
wonder the beauty of the fire-flies, which never seemed to grow common.
The fire was burning low when we turned back to camp, and Pete was
stretched out on the sandy shelf beneath the great tree he had selected
for our resting-place, and snoring as if he meant to make up for the
hard day's work.
But Cross was wakeful and ready to throw a few more dry twigs upon the
fire to light us as soon as he heard our steps.
"Seen or heard anything, Cross?" I said.
"Crickets, and toads, and frogs, and chuckling birds who seem to think
we must be foolish to come right out here into no-man's-land, sir.
That's about all. How have you got on?"
"Had a lovely walk," I said, as I settled down in my place beneath the
sheltering boughs. "Good-night, uncle; good-night, everybody," and I
believe that in ten minutes' time I was sleeping as soundly as if secure
and well housed in a civilised land.