The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 63

"You can hear a self-satisfied fool talking," said the boatswain, ill-humouredly.

"So can Mr Jones," muttered the man. "Hear you. That's what I can hear."

"What are you muttering about?"

"I think I can hear 'em, sir. Now then, you two, give up. It'll be the worse for you if you don't."

Don's hand tightened on his companion's wrist, and they stood fast, for Ramsden was stopping in a bent att.i.tude, listening.

There was nothing to be heard but the whisperings and gurglings, and then they saw him draw his cutla.s.s and come on.

Jem's muscles gave another jerk, but he suffered himself to be drawn farther and farther into the cave, till they must have been quite two hundred yards from the mouth; and now, for the first time, the almost straight line which it had formed, changed, and they lost sight of the entrance, but could see the shadow of their enemy cast upon the glistening wall of the place, down which the water seemed to drip, giving it the look of gla.s.s.

All at once Don, as he crept back, felt his left foot, instead of encountering the smooth rock floor, go down, and as he quickly withdrew it and felt nearer to him, it was to touch the edge of what seemed a great crack crossing the floor diagonally.

As he paused, he felt that it might be a "fault" of a few inches in width or depth, or a vast chasm going right down into the bowels of the mountain!

"There's a hole here," he whispered to Jem. "Hold my hand."

Jem gripped him firmly, and he reached out with one leg, and felt over the side outward and downward; and, just as he was coming to the conclusion that the place was terribly deep, and a shudder at the danger was running through him, he found that he could touch bottom.

He was in the act of recovering himself, so as to try how wide the crack or fault might be, when a peculiar strangling sensation attacked him, and he felt that he was falling.

The next thing he felt was Jem's lips to his ear, and feeling his whisper,--

"Hold on, lad. What's the matter?"

He panted and drew his breath in a catching way for a few minutes before whispering back,--

"Nothing. Only a sudden giddiness."

Jem made no comment, but gripped his hand tightly, and they stood listening, for the shadow cast faintly on the walls was motionless, and it was evident that their enemy was listening.

"I'm going on, Ramsden," said the boatswain. "Come along!"

"All right, sir. Join you as soon as I've got my prisoners."

"Hold 'em tight," shouted the boatswain, and then there was a loud rustling sound, followed by the words faintly heard, "Look sharp. It's of no use fooling there."

Don could hear Ramsden mutter something, but he did not seem to be coming on; and mastering the dull, sluggish feeling, accompanied by a throbbing headache, the lad stole cautiously back to where he could look round and see their approaching enemy between them and the light.

To his intense surprise he found the man had his back to them, and was retiring; but as he watched, Ramsden made an angry gesticulation, turned sharply and came on again, but seemed to catch his foot against a projecting piece of rock, stumble and fall forward, his cutla.s.s flying two or three yards on before him with a loud jingling noise.

What followed riveted Don to the spot.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

GOOD FOR EVIL.

Ramsden struggled to his feet as if with an effort, and stood holding his hand to his head, evidently hurt. The next moment he stepped forward, staggering slightly, stooped to pick up his cutla.s.s, and fell forward, uttered a groan, rose up again, and fell down once more, this time to lie without motion.

"Jem," whispered Don, "look at that!"

"Was looking," whispered back Jem. "Hit his head; sarve him right."

Ramsden did not move, and the two fugitives stood anxiously watching.

"What shall we do?"

"Wait! He'll soon come round and go. May as well sit down."

Jem lowered himself to a sitting position, and was in the act of trying to rest on his elbow when he gasped quickly two or three times, and caught at Don, who helped him to a kneeling position, from which he struggled up.

"Hah!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed; "just as if some one caught me by the throat. Oh, how poorly I do feel. Just you put your head down there, Mas' Don."

Don stood thinking and trying to grasp what it meant. Then, with some hazy recollection of dangers encountered in old wells, he bent down cautiously and started up again, for it gradually dawned upon both that for about two feet above the floor there was a heavy stratum of poisonous gas, so potent that it overcame them directly; and it was into this they had plunged as soon as they had stooped down.

"Why, Jem," panted Don; "it stops your breath!"

"Stops your breath? It's just as if a man got hold of you by the throat. Why, if I'd stopped in that a minute I should never have got up again."

"But--but, that man?" whispered Don.

"What, old Ramsden? Phew! I'd forgot all about him. He's quiet enough."

"Jem, he must be dying."

"I won't say, 'good job, too,' 'cause it wouldn't be nice," said Jem, with a chuckle. "What shall us do?"

"Do?" cried Don. "We must help him."

"What, get him out? If we do, he'll be down on us."

"We can't help that, Jem. We must not leave a fellow-creature to die,"

replied Don; and hurrying forward, he gave a glance toward the mouth of the cave, to satisfy himself that the good-natured boatswain was not there, and then, holding his breath, he stooped down and raised Ramsden into a sitting posture, Jem coming forward at once to help him.

"Goes ag'in the grain, Mas' Don," he muttered; "but I s'pose we must."

"Must? Yes! Now, what shall we do?"

"Dunno," said Jem; "s'pose fresh air'd be best for him."

"Let's get him to the mouth, then," said Don.

"But the boatswain 'll see us, and we shall be took."