Guy in the Jungle: or, A Boy's Adventure in the Wilds of Africa

The torches and rugs were easily procured, and laid away to dry, but the lamp and the oil-flask could not be found. They were probably at the bottom, but no one cared to dive after them.

"That was the closest shave I ever saw," said the colonel. "I gave you both up for lost, and as for that daring act of yours, Chutney, I cannot find words to express my admiration. You saved Sir Arthur's life."

Guy modestly made no reply. He calmly pulled on his jacket and shoes, and suggested that they cross the island and take a look at the other serpent.

The reptile was found to be quite dead, and little wonder, after all the spears that had entered his coils. As near as they could judge, he was between thirty and forty feet long, with a body as thick as a small keg. The skin was repulsive and slimy, of a dirty green color.

"It's a regular sea-serpent," said Melton. "What a sensation a monster of this kind would make if he were put on exhibition at the Zoo."

"And the other one was fully as large," added Guy. "That makes no less than four we have already encountered. There must be a great many in the river and lake."

One glimpse of the creature sickened Sir Arthur. He turned away and sat down on the edge of the raft.

Up to this moment the excitement had banished all else from their minds. They had fought a desperate fight for life and conquered. At the very flush of their success the shadow of certain death returned, blacker and more forbidding than ever, and in a moment their triumphant feelings were changed to deepest melancholy.

A short time before, under the influence of the colonel's philosophical words, they had felt in some manner resigned to a fate that nothing could avert. Now it was ten times more horrible and loathsome to contemplate, ten times harder to realize.

Absurd as it seemed, fresh hope sprang up in their hearts, and they tried to reason themselves into the belief that some unlooked-for chance of escape would offer itself yet.

Even the colonel's mood had changed, and it was easy to see that he was struggling with some terrible emotion.

The desire for life that was strong within him suggested to Guy a new plan; nothing, indeed, that offered any hope of escape, but merely a solution to his curiosity.

He remembered that on each occasion when their canoe had been caught by the influx of the river it had been carried direct to this island, a fact which seemed to prove the existence of a sluggish current through the center of the lake.

Did this current continue on past the island, and if so, whither did it lead?

A solution to these two problems Guy was curious to obtain.

It served to occupy his mind, to keep his thoughts from dwelling on the horrible fate that was in store for him.

It was more than likely, he told himself, that whirlpools would be found in the center of the lake. Well, drowning would be an easy death compared to the lingering tortures of starvation.

CHAPTER XXX.

A STRANGE DISCOVERY

Guy's explanation of his intentions was received without comment. Presently the colonel said, "You forget that we no longer have a canoe, Chutney. We are prisoners on this island."

"But we have a raft," replied Guy, "and a good one, too. It would be much more convenient and comfortable to travel on."

"Suppose we try it," said Forbes. "Anything to get away from this place."

"We can't get into a worse hole, that's true," added the colonel. "I believe you are right about the current, Chutney, though it can only land us on the edge of some whirlpool."

Sir Arthur was as eager as the rest to get away. He had passed through so many horrors, he said, that he had become accustomed to them, and it mattered little what the future held in store for him. The raft was dug out from the sand and found to be in perfect condition. It was fastened together with twisted withes of some flexible wood. It was no easy task to get it into the water, but by all working together, and using the guns and paddles as levers, it was finally pushed into the lake and floated lightly on the surface.

The rugs, provisions, and what torches remained were carried on board, and with a final look round the island to see that nothing of importance had been forgotten, they quietly embarked, and Guy, with a shove of the paddle, sent the raft out on the lake. The object of the journey they hardly knew themselves. They were leaving behind them a spot associated with dreaded memories, and that was all they cared to know.

"Don't do that," said Guy, as Canaris picked up a paddle and began to use it vigorously. "We must drift entirely with the current."

The torch was placed securely in a crevice of the logs, and in a very short time it was proved beyond a doubt that some current did exist. The island faded slowly from view.

Still reluctant to face their situation they grouped together and discussed various things. The Greek gave a long account of his curious wanderings and adventures. Guy and Melton spoke of their thrilling experiences in Burma only the previous year, and Colonel Carrington entertained them with the tale of his participation in the bombardment of Alexandria in '82.

So the hours passed on, and still they chatted of the outside world, forgetting for the moment the hopelessness of their present situation, the living tomb that had cut them off forever from the light of day.

"This reminds me of something I read a few months ago," said Sir Arthur, who was facing the situation with surprising calmness. "Some person mailed me from London Blackwood's Monthly containing an installment of a story by the fellow who wrote that deucedly clever book, 'King Solomon's Wives.' Ah! what was the name now – aw, yes, Haggard – Rider Haggard – "

"Beg pardon, Sir Arthur," interrupted the colonel, "but the title was 'King Solomon's Mines,' not his wives."

"Aw, that so, Carrington? Very well; doesn't make much difference. However, the hero of the story was traveling, as we are, on a lake, only it was in the open air, and the outlet was slightly beneath the surface. The water ran under a high wall of rock, and sucked the poor fellows and the canoe under. It would be funny if this lake had the same sort of an arrangement."

"Well, it hasn't," replied the colonel. "We went all around the walls in a canoe, and if any such place as that had been in existence we would not be here now, that's all."

"No, I suppose not," said Sir Arthur. "I'm going to take a nap. Wake me if anything turns up, will you?" And making a pillow of one of the rugs, he was soon snoring.

"It will be a mercy if he never wakes," said Chutney in a husky voice. "Not much danger of that, however. We have food enough to last us a couple of weeks yet, and unless we take your suggestion, colonel, and toss it into the lake, we are good for that length of time, I suppose."

"Yes," rejoined the colonel, "unless we get sucked into a whirlpool or the serpents attack the raft in force."

After that nothing was said for an hour or more. Their fate stared them in the face with all its awful realism.

But even under these circumstances they grew drowsy, and dropped off one by one among the rugs, except Guy, who declared his intention to stay awake and be on the lookout for any danger that might threaten.

His was a solemn and lonely vigil. He envied his companions their power to sleep, as the canoe drifted on through the gloom. The torch burned slowly out, and he replaced it with a fresh one. His loaded rifle lay within reach, but nothing happened to arouse his fear.

Sad and bitter were the reflections that surged into his mind. As the events of his life rose up before him with wonderful clearness time passed unheeded, and at last his brain grew weary, and rolling over on the rugs he fell instantly into a deep slumber.

Strangely enough he was the first to awake. He had slept a long while, he saw at a glance, for the torch was burnt almost to a cinder. The rest were still sleeping.

"We must have been drifting for at least twelve hours," he said half aloud. "We should be across the lake by this time."

He picked up a fresh torch and lit it from the expiring flame of the other. As he stuck it in the crevice the glare suddenly revealed a wall of rock a few yards distant, and in a very short time the raft struck the shore with a harsh rattle that proved the impulse of the current beyond a doubt.

The concussion failed to rouse the sleepers, and Guy was hesitating whether he ought to do so or not when a faint sound came indistinctly to his ear.

At first he could scarcely believe the evidence of his own senses. He fancied it must be a delusion, a buzzing in his ears. The strangest part of it was that the sound actually resembled running water.

He listened a while longer, and then quietly woke the Greek, who sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Canaris," he whispered, "do you hear anything?"

An interval of silence followed, inexpressibly painful to Guy, and then the Greek cried excitedly, "Yes, I hear running water. It comes from the other side of the cliff."

"Then I am not mistaken," was Guy's joyful exclamation. "We both hear it. It can be no delusion."

Then his heart sank as he thought of the wall of rock before them.

"It is the outlet of the river," he said bitterly, "only a few yards distant, and it might as well be a thousand miles."

Remembering what Sir Arthur had told them, he looked anxiously at the surface of the lake, but the water was calm and quiet, and the raft hung motionless.

"The outlet is far beneath the surface," said Canaris. "You can tell that by the sound. If it were near the top we would be instantly sucked under."

Impelled by an irresistible impulse Guy seized the torch and held it above his head.

"Look! Look!" he cried, in a voice that trembled with excitement. "The cliff slants at an angle. There are crevices to hold one's hands and feet. Make no noise, Canaris; don't wake the rest, but help me to reach that ledge yonder and I will see where this leads."

The cliff slanted indeed, but at an almost imperceptible angle. The raft tilted slightly as Canaris pushed Guy up the face of the rock, but the latter succeeded in reaching a small ledge six feet above the water.

"All right," he whispered. "I can see plenty of places to catch hold of beyond me. Now fasten a torch to one of the paddles, Canaris, and hold it as high as you can."

This was a clever suggestion. The Greek fortunately had a bit of cord about him, and in a moment the torch was throwing a dull light far up the rugged slope of the rock.

Guy continued to climb higher and higher, keeping a cool head in spite of his excitement, and testing well each crevice or projecting ledge before trusting his weight to it, and at last, with a throb of joy that nearly took his strength away, he pulled himself out upon the flat summit of the rock.

Seventy feet below him was the raft and its occupants, glowing in the torchlight. Guy crawled forward on his hands and knees, and soon reached the verge of the rock on the other side. The running water was below him, much farther, indeed, than the level of the lake, but the roar of the torrent was loud and distinct to the ear.

He turned and crawled back.

"Canaris," he whispered down, "I have reached the top of the cliff. There is running water on the other side. Waken the rest as quickly as possible, and send some one up with a torch. I forgot to bring one with me."

CHAPTER XXXI.

A TERRIBLE BLUNDER

From his gloomy perch on top of the rock Guy could see all that happened plainly.

Canaris woke his companions as speedily as possible. Their astonishment at finding Guy missing was very great, and at first they seemed scarcely able to comprehend the Greek's explanation.

Then they glanced eagerly overhead; and hailed Guy with shouts of joy.

"Here, hoist me up," cried the colonel. "I'll take him up the torch."

"No, I'll go!" exclaimed Forbes. "I'm a pretty expert climber, colonel, and won't run any risk."

"Bless me!" ejaculated Sir Arthur. "Did that young man Chutney walk up the face of that wall? Why, he's a freak."

Canaris solved the matter by picking up one of the leathern bags and tearing it open.

"Look!" he shouted up to Guy. "It was fortunate we kept these. Here are the ropes and hooks by which we scaled the walls of Harar."

"Hurrah!" cried Chutney. "Just the thing! I had forgotten about them."

"Now," continued the Greek, "both of you can go up the rock and I will remain here with Sir Arthur."

He dragged out the four ropes, spliced two of them together to make the required length, and then, giving the end to Forbes to hold, he threw the iron hook skillfully toward Guy. It landed on top of the cliff, and Guy fastened it securely to a crevice.

"Now you can come up," he shouted down.

Placing a torch in each pocket, Forbes began the ascent, and speedily reached the top. The colonel followed with equal dexterity.

"All right?" called the Greek.

"Yes," replied Chutney; "all right. We will return as soon as possible. If anything happens fire your gun."

Guy lit a torch, and the glare revealed only the narrow ledge on which they stood. Beneath and overhead was empty space.

They paused a moment to listen to the sound of the running water.

"It is far beneath us," said the colonel; "possibly a hundred feet, but it is the outlet of the lake, I am sure. Upon my word, Chutney, I believe we will get out of this scrape yet."

"Come on," said Guy briefly; and he led the way along the narrow path.

They traveled in silence for five minutes, until the light from the raft had nearly vanished, and then Guy halted suddenly. A wall of rock, steep and smooth, prevented further advance.

"Come, let us go back," he said; they retraced their steps until they were near the starting point.

Under foot were loose fragments of stone. Guy picked up one of these and tossed it over the edge. A faint splash was distinctly heard a few seconds later.

"The river is directly beneath us," said the colonel.

He picked up another stone, and moving off a few yards, cast it down. This time it struck something hard after the same interval.

"There must be a shore to the river," he said. "What shall we do now? Follow the top of the cliff in the other direction?"

"No," said Guy. "We must scale the precipice right here."

"Impossible!" declared Forbes. "Our ropes are not long enough."

"Canaris has two more," replied Guy; "go and get them."

Melton hurried off at once.

The raft was close at hand, and in five minutes he was back.

"Here are the ropes," he said. "Canaris tied them together and tossed up one end."

Guy skillfully made one continuous rope about eighty feet long. In breathless silence he let the hook drop over the edge, paying out the line yard by yard.

Seventy-five feet from the top the strain slackened.

"It has reached the bottom," cried Guy joyfully.

"We had better make sure," said Forbes. "Haul up the rope again."

As the hook came over the top Melton grasped it.

"Are the ropes securely tied?" he asked.

"Yes; they won't part," replied Guy.

"All right, then. Hold the end tightly. Here goes."

He flung the hook far into the air, and the next instant Guy felt a sharp jerk.

"The hook is swinging in air," he cried in wonder.

"I was right," said Melton; "that was only a ledge it struck before. The bottom may be a hundred feet or more distant."

Guy hurriedly pulled the rope back and fastened the hook to the top of the cliff. He made a noose in the other end and placed it under his shoulders.

"Now let me down," he said coolly. "If I miss the ledge you can haul me up again."

No one made any objections.

It was perilous, of course, but some one had to do it, and why not Chutney?

They lowered him into the darkness foot by foot, and at last the strain slackened.

"All right," came the welcome cry from below. "I'm on the ledge. It's two or three feet wide. Now come down hand over hand, one of you."

"I'll go," said Forbes. "You will have to remain here, colonel, to help us again."

Meanwhile Guy had lit a torch, and when Melton began the descent the yellow glare was visible far below.

The face of the cliff, though sheer, was full of rough projections for his feet, and in a short time he stood beside Chutney on the ledge.

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 space 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 dashing 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 shore, 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 shore 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 XXXII.

GOOD-BY TO THE LAKE

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

"Yes," he said hoarsely, "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 lustily, 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 fishing 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.

It was a perilous undertaking to go up the face of the cliff with nothing but a smooth rope to hold to, but at Guy's bidding Forbes made the attempt.

A great load seemed lifted from Guy's mind when he heard his friend's voice at the top, and without a moment's hesitation he started up himself.

Had the face of the rock been perfectly smooth he could never have reached the summit, and even by the aid of the rough places he found it a terribly difficult task. Two or three times he swung helpless in mid-air, and just when he felt that he could go no farther he was pulled to the top without any effort of his own, and fell over from sheer exhaustion. He was all right in a moment or two and, hauling up the rope, they hurried back to the raft.

Canaris and Sir Arthur hailed them gladly. It was the work of a moment to attach the hook to the top of the ledge, and one by one they slid down to the raft.

Here a startling surprise awaited them. Among the rugs lay a dark-skinned savage, half naked and frightfully emaciated, while on the end of the raft rested a canoe much worn and battered.

"What on earth does this mean?" exclaimed Chutney. "Where did you get that fellow? Is he dead?"

"No, he lives," replied Canaris. "I heard a strange cry out on the lake. That was the time I fired my rifle. Then I saw this canoe drifting toward the raft, and when it came near enough for me to catch hold of I found this poor fellow lying in the bottom. Nothing else was in the canoe, not even a paddle. Just before you came I was talking to him. I know a little of the language, and he managed to tell me that he belongs to Oko Sam's tribe of Gallas. His name is Bildad, and he is the same native who was pursued into the cavern by the Abyssinians."

"But how did he get away from the serpent?" asked Forbes.

"I don't know," replied Canaris. "When he gets a little stronger I will find out. I gave him some food and he devoured it like a wild beast. He was terribly afraid we would kill him, and I could hardly make him believe otherwise."