Bevis Part 7

"What was that?" said Mark at last.

"I don't know; of course it was something magic."

"Perhaps they don't like us coming into these magic places," said Mark.

"Perhaps it is to tell us to go away. No doubt Pan is eaten."

"I shall not go away," said Bevis, as the boom did not come again. "I shall fight first;" and he fitted his arrow to the string. "What's that!" and in his start he let the arrow fly down among the thistles.

It was Pan looking down upon them from the edge above, where he had been waiting ever since they first called him, and wondering why they did not see him. Bevis, chancing to glance up defiantly as he fitted his arrow to shoot the genie of the boom, had caught sight of the spaniel's face peering over the edge. Angry with Pan for making him start, Bevis picked up a stone and flung it at him, but the spaniel slipped back and escaped it.

"Fetch my arrow," said Bevis, stamping his foot.

Mark went down and got it. As he came up the sandy slope he looked back.

"There's a canoe," he said.

"So it is."

A long way off there was a black mark as it were among the glittering wavelets of the Golden Sea. They could not see it properly for the dazzling gleam.

"The cannibals have seen us," said Mark. "They can see miles. We shall be gnawn. Let's run out of sight before they come too near."

They ran down the slope into the quarry, and then across to the fir-trees. Then they stopped and watched the punt, but it did not come towards them. They had not been seen. They followed the path through the firs, and crossed the head of the gulf.

A slow stream entered the lake there, and they went down to the sh.o.r.e, where it opened to the larger water. Under a great willow, whose tops rose as high as the firs, and an alder or two, it was so cool and pleasant, that Mark, as he played with the water with his spear, pus.h.i.+ng it this way and that, and raising bubbles, and a splas.h.i.+ng as a whip sings in the air, thought he should like to dabble in it. He sat down on a root and took off his shoes and stockings, while Bevis, going a little way up the stream, flung a dead stick into it, and then walked beside it as it floated gently down. But he walked much faster than the stick floated, there was so little current.

"Mark," said he, suddenly stopping, and taking up some of the water in the hollow of his hand, "Mark!"

"Yes. What is it?"

"This is fresh water. Isn't it lucky?"

"Why?"

"Why, you silly, of course we should have died of thirst. _That's_ the sea," (pointing out). "This will save our lives."

"So it will," said Mark, putting one foot into the water and then the other. Then looking back, as he stood half up his ankles, "We can call here for fresh water when we have our s.h.i.+p--when we go to the Unknown Island."

"So we can," said Bevis. "We must have a barrel and fill it. But I wonder what river this is," and he walked back again beside it.

Mark walked further out till it was over his ankles, and then till it was half as deep as his knee. He jumped up both feet together, and splashed as he came down, and shouted. Bevis shouted to him from the river. Next they both shouted together, and a dove flew out of the firs and went off.

"What river is this?" Bevis called presently.

"O!" cried Mark suddenly; and Bevis glancing round saw him stumble, and, in his endeavour to save himself, plunge his spear into the water as if it had been the ground, to steady himself; but the spear, though long, touched nothing up to his hand. He bent over. Bevis held his breath, thinking he must topple and fall headlong; but somehow he just saved himself, swung round, and immediately he could ran out upon the sh.o.r.e.

Bevis rushed back.

"What was it?" he asked.

"It's a hole," said Mark, whose cheeks had turned white, and now became red, as the blood came back. "An awful deep hole--the spear won't touch the bottom."

As he waded out at first on shelving sand he laughed, and shouted, and jumped, and suddenly, as he stepped, his foot went over the edge of the deep hole; his spear, as he tried to save himself with it, touched nothing, so that it was only by good fortune that he recovered his balance. Once now and then in the autumn, when the water was very low, dried up by the long summer heats, this hole was visible and nearly empty, and the stream fell over a cataract into it, boiling and bubbling, and digging it deeper. But now, as the water had only just begun to recede, it was full, so that the stream ran slow, held back and checked by their sea.

This hollow was quite ten feet deep, sheer descent, but you could not see it, for the sh.o.r.e seemed to slope as shallow as possible.

Mark was much frightened, and sat down on the root to put on his shoes and stockings. Bevis took the spear, and going to the edge, and leaning over and feeling the bottom with it, he could find the hole, where the spear slipped and touched nothing, about two yards out.

"It is a horrid place," he said. "How should I have got you out? I wish we could swim."

"So do I," said Mark. "And they will never let us go out in a boat by ourselves--I mean in a s.h.i.+p to the Unknown Island--till we can."

"No; that they won't," said Bevis. "We must begin to swim directly. My papa will show me, and I will show you. But how should I have got you out if you had fallen? Let me see; there's a gate up there."

"It is so heavy," said Mark. "You could not drag it down, and fling it in quick enough. If we had the raft up here."

"Ah, yes. There is a pole loose there--that would have done." He pointed to some railings that crossed the stream. The rails were nailed, but there was a pole at the side, only thrust into the bushes.

"I could have pulled that out and held it to you."

Mark had now got his shoes on, and they started again, looking for a bridge to cross the stream, and continue their journey round the New Sea. As they could not see any they determined to cross by the railings, which they did without much trouble, holding to the top bar, and putting their feet on the second, which was about three inches over the water. The stream ran deep and slow; it was dark, because it was in shadow, for the trees hung over from each side. Bevis, who was first, stopped in the middle and looked up it. There was a thick hedge and trees each side, and a great deal of fern on the banks. It was straight for a good way, so that they could see some distance till the boughs hid the rest.

"I should like to go up there," said Mark. "Some day, if we can get a boat under these rails, let us go up it."

"So we will," said Bevis. "It is proper to explore a river. But what river is this?"

"Is it the Congo?" said Mark.

"O! no. The Congo is not near this sea at all. Perhaps it's the Amazon."

"It can't be the Mississippi," said Mark. "That's a long way off now.

I know--see it runs slow, and it's not clear, and we don't know where it comes from. It's the Nile."

"So it is," said Bevis. "It is the Nile, and some day we will go up to the source."

"What's that swimming across up there?" said Mark.

"It is too far; I can't tell. Most likely a crocodile. How fortunate you did not fall in."

When they had crossed, they whistled for Pan, who had been busy among the fern on the bank, sniffing after the rabbits which had holes there.

Pan came and swam over to them in a minute. They travelled on some way and found the ground almost level and so thick with sedges and gra.s.s and rushes that they walked in a forest of green up to their waists. The water was a long way off beyond the weeds. They tried to go down to it, but the ground got very soft and their feet sank into it; it was covered with horsetails there, acres and acres of them, and after these shallow water hidden under floating weeds. Some coots were swimming about the edge of the weeds too far to fear them. So they returned to the firm ground and walked on among the sedges and rushes. There was a rough path, though not much marked, which wound about so as to get the firmest footing, but every now and then they had to jump over a wet place.

"What immense swamps," said Mark; "I wonder where ever we shall get to."

Underfoot there was a layer of the dead sedges of last year which gave beneath their weight, and the ground itself was formed of the roots of sedges and other plants. The water had not long since covered the place where they were, and the surface was still damp, for the suns.h.i.+ne could not dry it, having to pa.s.s through the thick growth above and the matted stalks below. A few scattered willow bushes showed how high the water had been by the fibres on the stems which had once flourished in it and were now almost dried up by the heat. A faint malarious odour rose from the earth, drawn from the rotting stalks by the hot sun. There was no shadow, and after a while they wearied of stepping through the sedges, sinking a little at every step, which much increases the labour of walking.

The monotony, too, was oppressive, nothing but sedges, flags, and rushes, sedges and horsetails, and they did not seem to get much farther after all their walking. First they were silent, labour makes us quiet; then they stopped and looked back. The perfect level caused the distance to appear more than it really was, because there was a thin invisible haze hovering over the swamp. Beyond the swamp was the gulf they had gone round, and across it the yellow sand-quarry facing them.

It looked a very long way off.

Volume One, Chapter VI.