"What do you want that for?" I asked him, all excited.

"Look and see--do as I tell you," he just said.

It was in the smashed canoe and I just stood there holding it.

"What'll I do with it?" I asked him.

"Just hold it," he said. Then he said, "Now, Blakeley, there's only one way to get down there and that's to jump. It's pretty deep, but the main question is, 'is it wide enough?' If it is--well, I'm a tiger and I ought to manage it."

I didn't know then, but I found out afterward that when a tiger makes a leap out of a tree he rolls over when he hits ground and turns a sort of summersault, so as to break the shock. There's a certain way to do it, that's all I know. But I knew when he said it, that the Royal Bengal Tigers from Ohio were like the others away out in India, in more ways than I ever thought about.

I said, "Bert, you can't do it--tigers are--"

"Shut up," he said, "and listen--"

"Even if you did," I said--"No, I _won't_ shut up--_you_ listen. Even if you did, how could you get out? Have some sense. I've followed you all the time, but now you've got to listen. I like you better than any fellow--even Westy--and--_please_ wait a minute--even Skinny. It's too late--Bert."

He said, "Blakeley, we have two chances--just two. You know the third law. I don't tell you what you've got to do, Blakeley. That's your business--but listen." He put his hand on my shoulder and his voice was all husky. He said, "Blakeley, if I don't make it, you'll have my body to ease the shock for you. People--people will be here to-morrow-- you'll get out. It's getting _in_ we have to think about. If I don't make it, try to land on your feet--a little forward--like this--see?

And duck your head and do a summersault forward--see? If you don't want to, it's none of my business. Only I'm telling you how. Here," he said, and he threw a lot of things out of his pockets; "you give them to my patrol."

"Keep them," I said, "I'll get them when I come down, if that's necessary. It's--it's you and I and Skinny, Bert--sink or swim--live or die--it's the three of us. I'm ready."

CHAPTER x.x.xI

TELLS ABOUT THE OLD Pa.s.sAGEWAY

Honest, as sure as I'm sitting here, I would have gone down first-- after the way that fellow spoke to me. It just sent thrills through me.

And only a couple of days before, I didn't like him and I thought he didn't trust Skinny.

I grabbed hold of him and I said, "Bert, I--just a second--_please_--I have to tell you--if I don't see you again--I mean so I can speak to you--I have to tell you, you're a hero--"

But he jerked my hand off his sleeve. He didn't say anything, but just jerked my hand off his sleeve. And I stood there holding the paddle, and I could hear the water rushing in the valley, and I was breathing hard and all trembling.

I called, "Bert! Are you all right, Bert?" But he didn't answer. Then I went to the edge and I was all shaking from head to foot. But I was ready. It was all dark down there and I couldn't see. Anyway, I was ready.

"Bert!" I called, and I just waited. I could hear the water rushing through the valley and sometimes sounds like trees breaking. And I heard a tree-toad moaning--it seemed funny to hear that.

"Bert!" I called. I felt cold, and my wrists were all tingling. "Bert!"

Then I stuck the paddle in the mud and hung my hat on the end of it.

Just then I heard a voice. It sounded strained and not like Bert's, as if it couldn't speak on account of pain.

"Don't--jump--stay--"

I waited a few seconds and then called, "If _you're_ hurt, I'm coming anyway."

"Don't--jump," he kind of groaned; "I'm all right. Just a strain. Don't jump."

I sat on the edge waiting. I was just counting the seconds. I was afraid he'd never speak again.

Then he said, "All right, kiddo--just strained my wrist."

"Are you _sure_?" I called down; "dip it in the water; slap some mud on it. Is he dead?"

I knew now that he must be all right, because I heard him move. For about half a minute he didn't answer. Then he called up:

"He's alive, but he isn't conscious."

"How about _you_?" I said.

"Alive and conscious," he said; "don't worry."

Then for about a minute he didn't speak.

"Do you want the paddle?" I called.

"Nope--chuck it," he said. "This is a place of mystery. Know where the water went? There's a pa.s.sageway down here; it's big enough to crawl through. Ouch!"

"Tell me the truth," I said, "you're hurt."

"I'm in a very critical condition from a swollen wrist," he said; "shut up, will you! There's a secret pa.s.sageway or something or other down here. Where do you suppose it goes?"

"Hanged if _I_ know," I said; "what about Skinny?"

"He's breathing, that's all _I_ know," he said.

For a couple of minutes I sat on the edge thinking and I could hear him down there. I didn't know what he was doing.

Then I called, "You know Rebel's Cave, don't you? Above the sh.o.r.e south of Nick's Cove--near the outlet? Maybe it comes out there--the pa.s.sage, I mean."

"What makes you think so?" he called.

"I don't say I think so," I said; "only there's a kind of a pa.s.sageway that goes into the hills there. It starts in the cave. None of us ever followed it, because it's so dark and wet. A fellow found an old musket stock there once."

"What do you say?" he called; "there's no time to lose, that's sure.

Shall I try it? It would take an hour to flood this pesky old hole, even if I could stop up the pa.s.sage."

Then all of a sudden I knew why he had told me to be ready with the paddle. It was so I could open a little trench through the muddy land and start the water flowing into the pit. That way he'd get to the top with Skinny.

"But you can't stop up the pa.s.sageway," I said. "The water flowed through it and went out somewhere--maybe through the cave and back into the lake. If it's big enough you could do the same. Both of us--"

"Stay where you are," he shouted, "and don't be a fool. Do you suppose I want to carry two fellows through there? One's enough. By heck, I'm going to try it--it's the only thing to do."

"Suppose it shouldn't bring you out anywhere?" I said.

"Suppose it should," he fired back at me.