OUT INTO THE GREAT BEYOND
The boys had no packing to do. They nothing but the they in, and a sailor’s knife that to Alan; but they put together a store of elers, a fruit that was sustaining, and that, below, took the place of the of the upper world.
There were very of the people about; it was the of Meherut,—the most day of their religion, and all were up in their houses with their their time in and prayer.
On, on the boys went, always the middle path if a choice was offered them, if not, then taking the path to the right. Gradually they left all of and entered a most region where the only in patches, and the lights were only and between. They on blindly; they not wait for food; every moment was to them. Suddenly Desmond and fell. “I can’t go a step further,” he cried. “How long have we been walking, Lanny?”
“About ten hours I should think.”
“Then for Heaven’s let us rest! We have a start of them—let us and have some food.” The them, and they of the water that rolled at their feet. It was not very wide, three at the most, but the was and the more than ever.
Stretching themselves out on the ground the boys slept, and some five or six hours later 89greatly refreshed. Then they their march, now the river them, now upon it again and walking by its banks.
They had no idea of where they were going. They had only one in view—to put as big a as they themselves and the people they would already be them. Suddenly the road ended. They had a and the way had opened out into a small cave, which was on one by a narrow of bubbling, water, that at either end in a dark tunnel. “What shall we do?” asked Desmond. “Shall we go back?”
“We can’t,” said Alan decisively. “The road that us here was at least five miles long, without a turn in it. By the time we our steps, the would have up to us. No, old boy, I think this is a tight we are in, and at the moment I can’t see how we are to out of it.”
They walked the little it carefully. It had only the one exit—the path up which they had come. The at either end through which the were too low to admit the passage of a body, and the on the other of the little river rose from the water itself. “It looks hopeless,” said Alan at last, “but at all we must not go back.”
“How red the are,” said Desmond suddenly. Alan started, for in his mind he a voice saying, “Look for the that are red.” It had been Har-Barim’s to them, and he had said—“make for the that are and wild—where in the space of a foot—” A foot! why the water couldn’t be than that here. He looked hurriedly—was it his or were the on the opposite than those about him?
To Alan’s nerves it as if just opposite him a had been away by the passage of feet. Slowly a came into his mind—if that was a then surely it must lead somewhere. His up the eagerly—again his another a little 90higher up, and still another and another. Four in all, at a of a little over two feet. Upward his wandered, and in the he saw a piece of red that looked as if it had been there at some time or other, for some purpose. He across the and with a to the rock. “Don’t touch me, Dez,” he commanded, “I think I can manage best alone.”
With an almost he his in the little cleft, and up to the little red that had so his curiosity. Desmond him in horror. Although the water was so narrow, Alan would little of saving himself if he in, for it was against the and sending its higher than where Alan was clinging. He touched the stone—it moved so slightly. “God! A way!” he cried, and to open it. But although it and shook, it would not its secret.
Then, away in the distance, came the of and the of drums.
“The people know,” Desmond. “They are up the long passage.” Already they the name of Kaweeka used as a cry, and they that they little if they were by the savages.
With of on his brow, Alan worked. His were and from his exertions. Still nearer came the of the people, and Alan had not yet succeeded in moving the stone, which he was a way of escape. Desmond ran the passage a little way—in a second he was back. “I can see them,” he cried. “There are hundreds of them! Oh, what shall we do?”
“Ah!” Alan gave a of relief, for the had rolled back, a small beyond, just big for the passage of a man’s body.
“Follow me in, Dez,” he cried, “no where it leads—it can’t be than if we here.”
Their were now in full view, and if that only a yards them. Quickly 91Desmond the steps and the hole, and Alan him in, and as he to make fast the opening, a with an evil-looking appeared. Alan his and gave a blow, and like a the man into the water, was under and out of sight.
They rolled the into its place, and panting, against it. The and of the came on their ears; the great trembled, and they it was being from without. One to them great of on the ground. Feverishly they them up in of the stone, and they were to the that the people up. After a time, the of the people fainter, they died away altogether, and the their way to the temple to pray that the white men might be over to them, and that they might be allowed to the of the of Korah.
Spent and the two boys to the ground, for many hours had passed while they were their from the people. A faint, natural, ground light around. It was like the same light that the whole of the underworld, but here it was in its natural condition, and was so that it them each other’s face.
“Go to sleep, Dez,” said Alan. “I will keep watch.”
“But you are too,” his cousin.
Alan smiled. “Sleep first, old man,” said he, and as he spoke, Desmond his upon his breast, and his closed in slumber.
It was a great for Alan to there in the darkness—in a and unknown place—soundless for Desmond’s heavy, regular breathing. His own to his like the blast of artillery, and the was a hundredfold. Nobly he against sleep—but he was out, and at last his closed—and he too, slept.
Time meant nothing to these men. 92Science they laugh at, for, from a scientific point of view, their very life was impossible. How in the centre of the earth live? Yet it was true they had lived, fed, and for months and months in the very of the earth. Science said the centre of the earth was impenetrable—that the of its fire would prevent man that fire. Yet they prove that they had and they tell the scientists that the fire was waning.
Still they slept.
Fantastic came into their minds, yet there was not so much as the of a or the of a mouse to them. All was and still, with a that cannot be by words.
Desmond first—the light did not so dim—or had they used to it? His rested on Alan sleeping by his side, and a tear on his cousin’s as he over him. It was a tear not to be laughed at, to be of, but the tear of a man in the of his oppression.
He rose to his feet, his limbs, and the place where he himself. It was a cavern, very to the others he had passed through on the of the river. Its was rugged, but was with the moss, and a which fruit were there. Round and he walked, but the to have no at all. Alan and Desmond in for a while, and then said, “Don’t worry, Dez, I’m sure we shall a way out. This must lead somewhere.” But although he too, the very carefully, there to be no outlet.
How long they there they did not know—fortunately they some which were edible, and long bulb-like ends were with a which their thirst. They played with each other, did in to prevent the they were would come over them.
Nearer and nearer it like a of waiting to and his victims. With their 93forced their and although the air was pure, their were and their parched. They to give up speaking aloud; they would for hours in silence, only occasionally a whisper, one to the other, as if they were of being overheard. Then the day—but no, it cannot be called that—the time came when Desmond and still, and Alan to the that something was with his cousin. He over the figure, and touched him with his hand. The were closed and the and had he been able to see clearly, he would have noticed the lines the cold mouth, and a look upon the face, that but ill.
“I must do something,” he wearily, and then he out into a of weeping. That saved his life, for when he came to himself it was as a fresh man.
Plucking some of the foliage, he the and let the liquid on Desmond’s brow, then and him, he managed to a of life to his cousin’s face. Nor did he stop then, but continued, until Desmond to and called him by his name.
When Desmond had into a and sleep, Alan and the little cave, looking still for some weak spot.
Suddenly there came a in the distance—a that the very ground upon which he was standing. With every nerve up to he waited—listening to see if he again the that had the stillness.
“It’s my fancy,” said he aloud, but as he spoke the noise again with fury. The shook—pieces of came down, off from their parent by the vibrations. Then came a almost like an explosion, and a piece of rock, larger than the came down, and it a small passage.
“Dez.” Alan. “Dez, a way of has come.”
94Desmond opened his and looked vacantly, and it was some time he the thing that had happened.
The had one last to them, and the boys have gone on their to thank the people, for their had them once more.
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