"Well, about his disappearance."

"Disappearance, sir?" said Smith. "I aren't no scholard, but I don't see as how a man can disappear in the dark. That aren't nat'ral, is it?"

"No: of course not, a blunder of mine, Smith. Do you feel cold?"

"No, sir, on'y just comf'able. Watcher think o' doing?"

"I did mean to go right to where we stood looking down over the water toward the falls, so as to be near poor Wriggs, but our voices would be quite drowned."

"Might take a walk there, sir, all the same," said Smith, "an' then come back, you know. But I say, sir, you don't think there's no underground sort o' wild beasties here, do you?"

"No, Smith, nothing of the kind."

"No big sort of worms as might twissen round yer and pull yer into their holes?"

"No, Smith, I think we shall have the place all to ourselves."

"And no t'other sort o' things, sir?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, sir, I don't quite azakly know, but it comes natral like to be feared o' being in the dark, and one has heard o' bogies and ghosties and that sort o' thing."

"Did you ever see anything of the kind?"

"Well, no, sir, I never did, but I've heerd chaps say as they've seen some rum things in their time from sea sarpents downwards."

"As to sea-serpents or some kind of monstrous creature similar to the old saurians--"

"Sawrians, sir,--do you mean sea sawrians?"

"Sea and river; the crocodiles whose remains we find as fossils. There is plenty of room in the sea, Smith, and, as a naturalist, I am quite ready to believe in something fresh being discovered. We have seen small sea-serpents, and there is no reason why there might not be big ones, but as to what you call bogies and ghosts, for goodness sake throw over all those silly superst.i.tious notions."

"What, don't you believe people ever comes back arter they're dead?"

"On purpose to frighten the living? No, Smith, I do not. It is an insult to the greatness of nature and the whole scheme of creation."

"Well, sir, speakin' as a man as couldn't help feelin' a bit uncomfortable here in the dark with on'y one looficer in his pocket, it does me good to hear you say that, though it is a bit higher up than I can quite reach with my head. You've made me feel a deal better, for it aren't nice to think as there's anything o' that sort to upset you when the place is quite bad enough without."

"Of course it is," said Oliver. "Come on now. Shall I lead, or will you?"

"You, please sir, and what do you say to keepin' hold o' hands?"

"I was going to propose it. Here's mine."

Smith grasped the extended hand, and Oliver started off at once, making his way cautiously to the edge of the river, and then, as a boy might along the kerbstone of a street, he kept on pa.s.sing his right foot along, till at last they stood in the profound darkness, listening to the thundering echoing roar of the falling water reverberating from the hollow roof and rising and sinking in booming deep diapasons till there were moments when it seemed to their stunned ears like a burst of strange wild giant music.

They stood for long enough together there, feeling that they were quite at the edge where the water-worn lava formed an angle, thinking, with many a shudder, that if poor Wriggs had fallen from where they stood, they could never by any possibility see him again.

At last Oliver drew his companion back, and, placing his lips to the man's ear, shouted to him that it was of no use to stay there, and they had better return to the portion of the cavern round the angle where they could speak to each other.

"You be leader going back," said Oliver.

"But I aren't sure which way to go, sir," shouted back Smith.

Oliver placed his lips close again.

"Keep your left foot on the edge and slide it along as we go."

"But suppose it's wrong way, sir?" suggested Smith.

"It can't be," cried Oliver again. "If you keep your left foot on the edge of the rock, every step must take us back toward the entrance."

Smith tightened his grasp and began, but so clumsily, that at the end of ten minutes he slipped, fell, and gave so violent a jerk to Oliver's arm that the latter nearly lost his hold, and, for a few moments, the sailor's fate seemed sealed. For he lay motionless with both legs over the edge, while all Oliver could do was to hold on, with his heart beating heavily, and the roar of the cavern seeming to be multiplied a hundredfold. He could not shout, for his throat felt dry, but he knew that if he did, his voice would not be heard, and he waited till Smith recovered himself a little, then made a struggle, and managed with his companion's help to get on his legs again.

Then the slow movement was resumed, with Oliver conscious of the exertion and shock by the twitching, beating sensation of the pulses in the sailor's hand.

At last, after what seemed to be an endless length of time the sudden silence which fell upon them told them that they were somewhere about their resting-place, and drawing back from the edge of the little river, Smith sank down upon the lava with a groan.

"Oh, murder in Irish!" he said. "I thought I was gone, sir. I was feeling along with my left hoof, when my right suddenly give a slip on a bit of rock as seemed like gla.s.s, and there it was slithering away more and more. If you hadn't ha' held on, you might ha' told 'em to sell off my kit by auction when you got back."

"I thought you were gone too, Smith," said Oliver, with a shudder.

"Yes, sir, it was werry 'orrid; and do you know, I fancy that's where poor old Billy slipped and went down."

"Possibly," said Oliver, and seating himself they talked at intervals for hours in the tomb-like silence of the awful place, till a peculiar drowsy feeling stole over Oliver, and he started back into wakefulness with a shudder of horror, for it suddenly struck him that he was beginning to be influenced by some mephitic gas once more, such as had affected them along the line of the mist at the foot of the mountain.

"Smith!" he cried excitedly, "do you feel sleepy?"

A low deep breathing was the only reply.

"Smith! wake up!" he cried; but there was a want of energy in his words, and five minutes after his efforts had grown feeble in the extreme. In another, he too had succ.u.mbed, not to a dangerous soporific vapour, but to the weariness produced by long exertion, and slept as soundly as his companion, and as if there was nothing whatever to fear.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

SMITH HAS A STARTLER.

Oliver Lane was dreaming of pleasant gushing streams, in which swam fish of glistening colours, deep down in the soft shades, when the sun appeared to come out suddenly and dazzle his eyes, so that he could not bear it, and he sprang up to find Mr Rimmer leaning over him, holding a lantern.

"That's better, sir!" he cried. "I was beginning to be afraid that you had breathed bad air."

"I--I--what time is it?" said Oliver confusedly. "Anything the matter?"

"Matter!" said the mate. "Here, Smith, my lad, rouse!"

"Rouse up it is, sir!" cried the man, scrambling to his feet. "My trick? Eh? Oh, all right. Just dropped asleep."