Guy in the Jungle Part 32

Wrapping the end of the rope about his arm, Guy called loudly, "Throw the hook far into the air, colonel. Do you understand?"

"All right," was the immediate response, and in a moment, as the rope swung over their heads, a heavy sound was heard beneath.

"It reaches the bottom," cried Guy joyfully. "The rope is slack."

He hauled on it eagerly, until ten yards or more lay in coils at his feet. Then it became taut. The bottom of the cliff was fifty feet below.

The roar of the water was now loud and fierce, but it lay more to one side. Directly beneath them was solid ground.

With a trembling hand Guy pulled at the hook and secured it to the ledge. Claiming the right to go first, he let himself over the verge, and a joyful hail announced that he had reached the bottom in safety.

Melton stuck his torch in a crevice of the rock and started after him.

As his feet touched the ground Guy lit a fresh torch and the light revealed a level s.p.a.ce of white sand, strewn with rocks.

Overhead was the glow of Melton's torch on the ledge, and far beyond on the dizzy summit of the cliff twinkled the light that the colonel held.

"We are on the bottom," shouted Guy, with all his might.

His voice echoed again and again through the cavern. A reply came back, but it was almost lost in the roar of the unseen waters.

With feelings that it would be difficult to describe they now advanced along the sand, bearing the torches high over their heads.

With each step the sound grew louder. It was not the harsh, spasmodic roar of water das.h.i.+ng among sunken rocks, but resembled rather the swift outpour of a torrent gliding over a smooth, unbroken bed.

"Here we are," cried Chutney. "I nearly stepped in the water without seeing it."

He held his torch out with one hand, and its glowing radius revealed a strange sight.

Twenty yards to their left a rapid, unbroken sheet of water burst with terrific force from a dark archway in the very face of the smooth cliff. It was the outlet of the lake.

In width it was about forty feet, though the opposite side of the river was shrouded in darkness. On the spot where they stood a reflux current had worn an inlet into the sandy sh.o.r.e, and here a stretch of comparatively calm water was circling in swirling eddies, a startling contrast to the furious sweep of the torrent beyond.

Yes, there was no doubt of it, here was the continuation of the underground river, the way that led to safety and hope.

With strange emotions they watched in silence the dark flood pouring from its natural archway in the face of the cliff. To their right the sandy sh.o.r.e seemed to spread away smoothly into the darkness, but before they could scrutinize their surroundings more closely a strange, sharp sound echoed through the vaulted roof of the vast cavern, succeeded by a faint shout.

"It was the report of the Greek's rifle," exclaimed Melton, in horror-stricken tones, "and it was Carrington who shouted. Some calamity has happened."

Staggering with fear, they hastened back to the edge of the cliff.

Melton clutched the dangling rope.

"Stop!" cried Guy, in tones of agony. "My heavens, Melton, we are lost, doomed to the most horrible of deaths. What blind, desperate fools we were. We can never get back to the lake, and our companions can never reach us here. We could not be more widely separated were the world itself rolling between us."

"What do you mean?" cried Forbes. "Are you mad, Chutney?"

"Mad? No. I wish I were. You are blind, Melton. _How can we get that rope up the seventy feet stretch from the ledge to the summit of the cliff?_"

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

GOOD-BY TO THE LAKE.

Melton dropped the rope and staggered back from the cliff, his face deadly pale.

"Yes," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "you--you are right, Chutney. How could we have done such a foolish thing? From that narrow width of the ledge one could not throw a rope twenty feet in air. We are hopelessly cut off from our companions."

"Hullo, down there!"

It was Carrington hailing them from the top of the cliff, and they could make out his figure dimly in the torchlight.

"What is the matter?" shouted Guy l.u.s.tily, making a trumpet of his hands.

In a moment the reply came distinctly to their ears.

"Canaris hears a strange cry from the lake. You had better come up."

"We are cut off," Guy shouted back. "We cannot get the rope back to the top of the cliff. Go tell Canaris"--his voice sank to a whisper, and he dropped on the sand beside Melton.

The colonel did not answer. The torch moved off along the cliff and then stopped, no doubt directly above the raft.

"He has gone to aid Canaris," said Guy. "I would like to know what is taking place on the lake."

"Ah!" said Forbes, "here he comes back now."

The torch moved along until it was directly over their heads, and then the colonel called down:

"Come up to the ledge. I have a way to save you."

Guy and Melton sprang to their feet in amazement. They could hardly believe they had heard aright.

"What can he mean?" cried Guy.

He seized the rope and started up hand over hand, placing his feet on the rough places in the wall.

Melton joined him on the ledge a moment later. The torch he had left there was still burning, and its light showed the colonel where they were.

"Watch sharp below there," he cried, and almost instantly Guy felt something dangling before his face. He put out his hand and clutched a thin cord.

"By Jove, Melton, it's the fis.h.i.+ng lines!" he exclaimed. "The colonel has tied them together."

No directions were needed to tell them what to do next. Guy loosened the hook and fastened the line to it securely.

"Go ahead," he shouted to the colonel, and the rope instantly began to ascend.

In less than five minutes, though it really seemed an hour, the colonel signaled down that all was ready.