The Golden Rock Part 50

"It only wants that time to sunset," said Webster, "and before then it will be too dark in this wolfs throat to see a yard."

"At any rate, let us get as near the top as we can, so that we can reach the face before sunrise."

"If it is there still," muttered Webster gloomily.

Again they advanced, the darkness deepening, and the walls narrowing in upon them, until Hume, who was leading, uttered a sharp cry.

"What is it now, in Heaven's name?"

"The way is barred. We're in a _cul-de-sac_!"

They went up to Hume and stood against a great wall, which, as they could dimly see, stretched right across.

All sank to the ground with a first feeling of relief that they had to go no further, except Hume, and he went from side to side, feeling with his hands for some way over this obstacle.

"It is no good," he cried; "we must halt here and try again to-morrow."

His words were met by a sound of weeping as Laura, tired out, for the first time gave way to a spasm of sobs which shook her frame and awoke echoes the most melancholy in that profound abyss. This sign of womanly weakness at once restored to the men courage to face this new trouble with cheerfulness, and, deeming it best to leave her to the relief of tears, they busied themselves in making for her a comfortable couch, finding material in a ma.s.s of fern which grew at one spot where water oozed from the rock. The dried ferns also served for fuel, and presently the flames flickered up, casting fantastic shadows. They made light of their position, being rewarded by seeing Laura take her coffee, and tasteless damper and tough biltong, with the relish of hunger.

Pipes were lit, she rolled a cigarette, and they leant back to gaze up at the stars, now out in all their brilliancy, increased by the darkness from which they looked.

Then, rolling themselves in their blankets, they fell into a profound sleep, in spite of the hard rocks, and were not disturbed until far into the night, when they were aroused by the sound of the wind moaning down the ravine. They drew their covering tighter to shut out the cold, but the noise coming and going in a manner weird beyond the power of words to express, they sat up to listen. Then they found there was no breath of air stirring about them, and that the noise came intermittently in blasts from one direction, being caught up by the echoes and sent booming from side to side. When the echoes rolled away there would be a fresh blast, a wailing note, a gasp as if the wind were struggling in some long funnel, and, mingled with this sound, they fancied there was some human note.

"There is a mystery here," said Hume, rising.

"It is the wizard of the mountain," said Klaas, s.h.i.+vering. "His breath will wither your flesh."

"Oh, hang the wizard!" growled Hume, as he moved off away from the barrier; but the sound came again, rising from a moan to a shrill screech.

They stood to their arms, driven to a pitch of fury by the disturbing noise, until there was light enough to reveal objects at hand, when they peered up at the walls above.

Suddenly the Gaika yelled aloud, and covered his eyes.

"What do you see?" asked Hume sternly.

"The white breath of the wizard, sieur!"

Hume stood by Klaas, and looked up just as from a point about fifty feet above a puff of white darted from the rock, followed by the now familiar wail. He laughed at the sight.

"Here is our tormentor," he cried; "a blast of wind blowing through a natural funnel," and he pointed to the spot.

They gathered near him, and Webster, with a quick glance at the rock, began to climb. From point to point he went with seeming ease, until, reaching a ledge, he stood before the aperture.

"By Jove," he cried, "there's a gale of wind blowing through!" then, after a pause, while his face was at the opening: "A light! I can see through. Hume, suppose this is the way after all."

"Is the opening large enough for a man to pa.s.s through?"

"I will see."

They saw dimly his body disappear, and waited anxiously while the moments slipped swiftly by.

"He is a long time," muttered Hume.

"He is in danger," said Laura, in a low voice, coming close to his side; "I feel it."

"I will see," he said.

"Yes," she whispered; "I suppose you must," but she laid a trembling hand on his arm, while her face looked ghastly white.

Sirayo let slip the blanket from his shoulders, and with a piece of fat rubbed his skin until it shone. Then quickly he scaled the rock and disappeared.

And the three left behind stood there looking up at the hole, while across the cleft above struck a broad fan of light, making a silver track along the rocks on their right, and by the pale reflection they saw the opening more clearly, and were startled by the sudden appearance of the chief. Hume placed his hand on Laura's shoulder.

"Have you found him?" asked Hume quietly.

"Yebo. But it is bad. He is dead!"

"Dead!" they muttered; "dead!"

"He lies here in the pa.s.sage."

"Let us go to him," said Laura, shaking off her fears at once.

"Is the way easy?" asked Hume.

"It is easy."

She sprang to the rock, and Sirayo came down to help her, while Hume saw that her footing was secure. They entered a tunnel, which for some distance was quite round, and through which, one at a time, they crawled. Then there was more room, and, guided by the light of day ahead, they went on where the tunnel opened out on a wide ledge. Here lay their comrade with his face to the sky, and blood oozing from a wound on his head.

About fifty yards to their right and above them was the Face!

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A FEARFUL POSITION.

"He is not dead," said Hume, as he earnestly studied the white face.

"Oh, thank Heaven! Quick! bring him in here out of the sun;" and, sitting down in the shadow of the opening, she took the wounded head upon her lap, and, with a firm, yet soft touch, parted the matted hairs.

"Now get water and brandy."

Hume went swiftly back to the place they had just left, and on his return with water he found she had cut away the hair with her scissors, which she always carried.

"It is only a surface wound. I think we have some maize meal left; give me some."

Hume unbound a small bundle, and produced a packet of meal, of which she grasped a handful and laid it on the wound, pressing it with her hand till the oozing blood caked it into an impervious plaster.

"That will stop the bleeding. Now a drop of brandy," and, taking a pannikin handed to her, she poured a few drops into his mouth, bathing his forehead with the rest. "Make a couch there with the blankets."

This was done, and the insensible form laid softly down.