CHAPTER TWENTY.
WAITING FOR DAYLIGHT.
As John Manning afterwards said, those were hours to make a man's hairturn grey, and to Cyril every minute seemed to be indefinitelyprolonged, as he stood till he felt his knees begin to give way beneathhim, and finally sank cautiously down upon them--John Manning imitatinghis movement--till they both rested upon wet, slippery rock.
There they crouched with strained ears, waiting for the light whichseemed as if it would never come, while the noise was crushing themback, as it were, upon themselves, and dulling their brains till all wasto Cyril like some terrible dream. There were moments when he felt asif his senses were leaving him, and the sensation was almost welcome,for the agony at last grew greater than he could bear.
He had reached this pitch as he crouched there with his arm drawntightly through John Manning's, when he felt the man's grasp upon himloosened, and the next moment he felt a thrust.
He knew directly what it meant. Following the movement, he becameconscious of some pale, bluish-looking smoke on his left, and as thisgrew clearer, he realised that it was not smoke, but a thick mistbetween him and the coming light of day; but for a few minutes there wasnothing more.
Then by slow degrees this dim, grey appearance grew and expanded, tillthe boy made out that the mist rose out of the depths before them, andat last that he and John Manning were crouching upon a ledge of rock onone side of a great gulf, down into which the waters thundered fromtheir right, while overhead the wall of rock rose up nearly straight,the light of day being shut out by the dense mist which rose from below.
This light increased rapidly now in pale gleams from the left, and afaint, soft diffusion from above, showing that they were where a vastrift in the mountain joined at right angles the valley they haddescended, while the rocky sides were so close that they nearly metoverhead. But some time elapsed before they could make out more, thesteamy mist obscuring everything, and preventing them from seeinganything of Perry or the colonel.
They had both risen to their feet, and clasping hands, began, as soon asit was possible to see a step or two, to try to penetrate farther in;but before they had gone half-a-dozen steps, John Manning, who lookedmisty and unsubstantial to Cyril, stopped short and pointed downward infront of him to where the rock looked slippery as glass.
"He went down there, sir," he shouted, and loosening his grasp, threwhimself down upon his chest, and wormed himself forward, so as to gethis head over the gulf and look down.
Cyril watched the man in agony, fully expecting to see him glide forwardout of sight; but in a few minutes he worked himself back, rose, andplaced his lips to the boy's ear again.
"Can't see. All one thick cloud of spray."
Cyril gave a great start, for at that moment, from out of the mistygloom, the colonel strode forward to meet them.
"Thank goodness," he shouted. "I was very nervous about--Where'sPerry?"
Cyril and John Manning, whose faces had lit up with pleasure, now gavehim a despairing look, which made him seize Cyril by both arms.
"My boy!" he gasped. "Where's my boy?"
There was no reply. There was none needed, for the colonel read intheir faces what was wrong. He had seen them, too, trying to look downinto the misty gulf below, and there was a horrible look of despair inhis countenance as he pointed mutely down into the terrible-lookinggloom.
Then going right to the edge, he tried to look over, but drew back alittle and stretched out his hand to John Manning, hooking his fingersthe while.
The old soldier stepped forward. Long discipline and training had madehim ready to grasp his master's wishes, and planting his right footagainst a projecting piece of the rock, he hooked his fingers in thecolonel's, and then hung slightly back, giving a little and a littlemore, till the latter was able to lean right out and gaze down.
It was by this time far lighter, and the mist was here and theretransparent, as it came eddying up more and more like the clouds ofsmoke from a fire, but there was no piercing even the lightest parts;and giving this up in despair, Colonel Campion rose up, made a sign tothem to stand firm, and then stepped rapidly in the direction from whichthey had seen him come.
One minute they saw his figure growing fainter along by the side of therock-wall, the next he had disappeared in the gloom and mist.
"Let's follow," said Cyril, with his lips to John Manning's ear.
The man shook his head.
"Soldier never leaves his post without orders," he replied. "Betterstay, sir."
Cyril hesitated, but stayed; now watching the spot where the colonel haddisappeared, now letting his eyes wander round the place, which, as thegrowing light of day penetrated it more and more, was still awfulenough, with its whirling mist, gloom, and deafening roar of invisiblewater falling behind the pearly veil, but far from being as terrible aswhen it was all shrouded in deep obscurity.
For the light came down softly from high above their heads, showing thatthough the rocky walls nearly approached, there was a firmly-definedband that would probably be bright and golden when the sun rose, butJohn Manning's words were justified as he suddenly leaned forward andsaid:
"What a place, sir! It's a wonder there ain't four of us gone forgood."
Just then the colonel reappeared with half-a-dozen of the raw hide ropesused about the mules for lassoes, tethering, and binding on their loads.
These he threw down, and John Manning followed his example as he beganto knot them together.
"Bear me?" shouted the colonel to the old soldier.
"Two of you, sir," said the latter; "but you lower, I'll go."
The colonel shook his head angrily--the task of speaking was too much inhis state of anguish--and he went on trying the knots he made, whileCyril picked up one end and examined a couple of the knots before makinga strong loop, and passing it over his head and shoulders.
His action passed un-noticed for a few moments, for he had drawn back;but when the last rope was joined to the others, the colonel turned andgrasped the boy's intention.
"God bless you, my lad," he cried, "but I cannot let you go."
Cyril hardly heard a word in the midst of that deep-toned, boomingthunder, but he grasped their import, and stood firm.
"Yes," he shouted. "I'm light. Lower me down."
A curious sensation attacked him as he spoke, and he knew that he wasturning pale, but he faced in the direction of the gulf, and tried hardto pull himself together.
"Perry would have gone down after me," he said to himself, "and it isn'tso very dangerous after all."
But all the while he knew that it was, and also that it was a taskcalling for nerve, determination, and strength, all three of which heseemed to be wanting in when face to face with the dense, wreathing mistof that terrible gulf.
"I don't care. I'm afraid, horribly afraid," he muttered between histeeth. "But I'll go. I'd go if it was twice as dangerous, if it's onlyto let father know I'm not all bad."
Meanwhile, a short discussion, painfully hard, went on between thecolonel and John Manning, the former hesitating, the latter insisting.
"He's light, and can do it better than you. Perhaps we couldn't pullyou up, nor you me."
Then the colonel held out his hand to Cyril, who grasped it eagerly, butin an instant the colonel's face began to work, and he drew the lad tohis breast, held him there for a brief moment, and then released him.
"I'm not afraid now," shouted Cyril, and he stepped at once to the edge,and, as the line was tightened, went down on his face, passed his legsover, and, grasping the line with both hands, glided down; seeing thefaces of the two men who held the rope disappear, then the shelf; andthe next minute, as he was lowered, he saw nothing but the light mistwhich closed him in, and struck dank and chilly to his face and hands.
He had expected to swing to and fro in the air, and had prepared himselfto grasp at the rock, and try to prevent himself from turning round andround; but to his surprise he found that he was on a sharp in
cline, downwhich he was sliding easily, for the rock was covered with a slipperymossy growth, over which his hands glided whenever he tried to check hiscourse; for, in spite of his determination, the desire to do thismastered him. Anything to stop himself from going down into that awfulplace at some terrible depth below, where the water was churning roundand round, and tossing up this mist of spray. To go down into that mustmean instant death; and after all, what good was he going to do? PoorPerry had slipped, gone over the edge, and then not fallen headlong, butglided down at a terrible rate, with no power to arrest his course; and,if he were not down there below, he must have been swept out by thestream, and be far away down the river by then.
These thoughts came quickly as he slipped gently down, keeping his facetoward the roaring water and churning mist, but seeing nothing; for thedarkness now, as he was lowered more, began to increase.
Down, down, down! Was there no end to the rope? How long it seemedbefore it was checked. Still Cyril tried hard to make out something ofthe whereabouts of his friend. But no; if he turned to the right,toward where there was the hissing noise of the falling water, all wasblack, as black as it was below in the fearful hollow into which itplunged, to send up that deafening, reverberating thunder. At last tothe left there, where he knew the chasm must open into the valley bywhich they came, he could see a faint suggestion of light, such light asone sees when looking towards a candle with the eyes tightly closed, andwhen trying to peer through the veined lids.
Then, to his horror, he was being lowered again, for he had believedthat the end of the hide rope was reached.
It seemed a great depth down before there was another check, thoughprobably it was not more than a dozen or twenty feet; and once more, ashe tried to grasp the slimy rock behind him, he peered about vainly,knowing that if poor Perry had once begun to glide down that horribleslope, he must have gone right on down to the bottom.
Then there was a heavier strain upon his chest, and to his intenserelief, now that he felt how vain his effort had been, he turned hisface toward the rocks, and tried to help by climbing, as he was beingdrawn up.
Vain effort. Hands and feet glided over the slippery moss, and he soonsubsided, and waited in increasing agony, while he was steadily hauledup. For, in descending, his senses were hard at work, and he wasmomentarily hoping to rest upon some shelf where he might come uponPerry. But now he had nothing to do but think of himself and his risks,and, in spite of the effort to be brave, he could not keep his mind fromdwelling upon the knots of the several ropes, and wondering whetherthose John Manning tied were as firm as the colonel's, and whether therope itself might not have been frayed by passing over the rocks, andgive way just before he reached the shelf.
At last, with head burning, hands and feet like ice, and clothesdrenched with the spray, he felt himself seized by John Manning's strongfingers and lifted into safety.
It had now become light enough for him to see well around; the mist onhigh was turning roseate and warm by reflection, for the sun was rising;and the colonel turned from him with a look of agony, and stood with hisback to them, while John Manning unloosed the rope.
"Nobody could come out of such a place as that, my lad," he said,"alive."