CHAPTER XII.

IN THE MESHES OF THE LABYRINTH.

There was a pleasurable excitement in thus advancing into the unknown, and the lads experienced something of the emotion of the navigator, who penetrates for the first time into some hitherto undiscovered waste of waters; but it may be noted as a rather curious fact that neither of the lads apprehended the very peril to which they were thus exposing themselves until it was upon them. We refer to the certainty of their going astray in case they continued their explorations too far.

“If we only had a guide or a torch as the visitors do in the Mammoth Cave, this would be the biggest kind of fun,” said Harry, as they continued creeping stealthily along.

Little Rifle wondered what he meant by the Mammoth Cave, but his shy bashfulness prevented his asking any questions. He preferred to remain in ignorance until some more fitting occasion should arise.

“If we carried torches, they would be likely to be guiding points to the Indians,” said Little Rifle; “it will be safer to grope along without them, for some of those Blackfeet may be brave enough to try and learn something more about the Spirit of the Waterfall, whose eye flashed out upon them.”

“And who gobbled up one of their warriors,” added Harry. “By jingo! why didn’t I think of it?”

“Think of what?” asked Little Rifle, not knowing to what he referred.

“Why, that I have a match-safe in my pocket, pretty full of matches too. If they are dry enough to ignite, you haven’t any objection, have you?”

“No; go ahead,” replied the young trapper, who was desirous of getting a look at the interior. “If there’s any danger, they can be put out as soon as they are lit.”

From the innermost recess of his pockets, Harry drew out his match-safe, and for a wonder, found that it had done what it was warranted to do, that is, preserved the lucifers from dampness.

One of these was drawn against the dry rock beneath their feet, and, as it grew into a flickering flame, he held it above his head, and the two lads looked about them with no little curiosity.

This temporary twinkling of light seemed to make the gloom more terrible and impressive. In the hasty glance that they cast around, they saw the roof of the cavern composed of enormous masses of rock, black, jagged and awful, while before and around them the terrible sight stretched away, further than the eye could penetrate.

As soon as the match expired, Harry lit another, and continued this until he had burned a dozen and blistered his thumb and fingers. During this interesting period also, seeing that the ground was unobstructed in front, they advanced fully a hundred yards--only to see, however, no termination to the cavern, whose immensity Harry declared as his belief, exceeded that of the pride and boast of Kentucky. The floor over which they walked, in places was dry as dust, again gravelly, and then again hard, dry rock. In no direction in which they looked, and they included every point of the compass--could they see any limit to the wonderful freak of nature.

It looked, indeed, as if they were on the outer boundary of one of those subterranean wonders which are found in different parts of our country, and that are unequaled in any portion of the world.

The sound of the waterfall came to their ears, with a faint murmur that was scarcely audible, and that caused them to forget all about it for the time.

The excitement of exploring the cavern gradually wore away under the monotony of traversing the gloom continually without meeting any obstruction or variety of any character.

“If we had a wheelbarrow load of provisions,” said Harry, “we might keep this up for a week or two; but the fact is I am getting tired. How is it with you, Little Rifle?”

“I have had enough of it; how long is it since we left the falls?”

“I should think a couple of hours; we have come a good ways too.”

“We shall need about all our time to get back, so we had better start at once.”

“It would be a joke now if we couldn’t find our way,” laughed Harry, as they wheeled about and started back with a little more assurance than had marked their steps so far.

“Not much of a joke,” replied Little Rifle, who was sensible of a thrill of fear, excited by the words of the boy. “I have been lost once or twice in the woods, and if you have ever been in that fix, you know how bad you feel.”

“I’ll bet I do, for I’ve been there.”

“Think then how much worse it must be to get astray in a place like this, where it is always dark. Did you ever hear of any one being lost in the Mammoth Cave?”

“Yes; they have found their bones there, and nobody dare go very far into it, without a guide and plenty of torches.”

“If they get lost, when they have torches to guide them, how much less is our chance of finding our way back again, when we haven’t any thing of the kind!”

The words and the tone in which this was uttered produced its effect upon Harry, but it could not dissipate entirely that flow of spirits which seemed natural to him.

“But they lose their way _there_ only when they have penetrated to a much greater distance than we; and then we have a few matches left, and can direct our steps by the sound of the waterfall. See how much the advantage we have!”

“Hark!”

Both paused in their groping, and listened, but could hear nothing.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry in a whisper. “What was it?”

“I stopped to find out whether we can hear the falls; do you catch the sound?”

“I think I hear their roar--very faint it is true--but distinct for all that.”

“It may be the ringing in our ears, that comes from our having been so stunned by them. And then you know there is always a dull hollow sound that seems to belong to such places.”

“By jingo! Little Rifle, you scare a fellow. Are you in earnest?”

“I don’t want to scare you any more than I have to, but you are brave enough to face danger when it must be faced, and it’s my opinion that neither of us can catch the slightest sound of the waterfall to guide us back again.”

“Or in other words, we are lost in the cavern. Is that what you mean?”

“I will hardly say that, just yet, although I think the chances are that way. If you have ever tried to find your way, when there wasn’t any moon or stars, you know how hard work it is. I have been dozens of miles away from Uncle Ruff, when night has come, and you know I have traveled the woods and mountains enough to know something about them, and the best thing I was able to do at such times, was to camp out and wait for daylight. Sometimes I have roosted in a tree and sometimes have crawled in among the rocks. If we are going to find our way out of here, I can tell you, Harry, that we have got to keep our wits about us.”

“That’s just what I want to do,” replied his friend, in lugubrious voice, “but it’s mighty hard work for a fellow to keep his head clear, when he hears such talk as that.”

Little Rifle laughed at the words of his friend, and he hastened to say:

“We’ll never give up till we have to do so. Now, let us see; we have turned square around, and suppose we are facing the falls. Let me take your hand, and we will keep our faces this way as well as we can. If we are right, we shall soon hear the sound of the waters, and, if we are wrong it won’t be long before we shall find it out. Come on!”

And, hand in hand, they began walking forward in silence, and each endeavoring by the feeling of the floor beneath them to tell whether they were pursuing the right path or not. This was out of the question, and they were not long in discovering it.

Some fifteen or twenty minutes were passed in this way, and the conviction was gradually stealing over Little Rifle that they were lost, when the hearts of both were thrilled at the unmistakable roar of waters which burst upon their ear with startling suddenness.

“Hurrah!” exclaimed the joyous Harry, “we are upon the right track. Shall I start and run?”

And in the exuberance of his joy, he let go of the hand of his friend, and was in the act of bounding off like a deer, when Little Rifle caught his arm.

“Don’t bid good-by to your common sense,” he said, earnestly. “If we are on the right track, we’ve got plenty of time, without running the risk of breaking our necks!”

Harry took the proffered hand again, with an apology for his rashness, and they progressed slowly and deliberately, but with a much more confident air than heretofore.

“Don’t you hear how much louder it grows every minute?” asked the impulsive lad, almost dragging his friend after him. “We have been over this ground before, and what is the need of such tardiness? We were glad enough to get away from the falls, but we will be gladder still to get back to them again.”

But Little Rifle was not to be moved from his deliberate tread, and he compelled Harry to keep pace with him, though it was hard work to restrain him.

“You will lose nothing by care!” he admonished, “and can gain nothing by haste. Take my advice, and feel every step of ground before you put your foot down.”

“Strange we can not see any thing of the water,” remarked Harry; “there ought to be some dim sort of light to show where we entered, for the sound shows that we are close to them.”

He was still walking forward, in his confident way, when Little Rifle seized his arm with such violence as almost to throw him backward to the ground.

“Before you go a step further, strike one of your matches.”

“All right,” replied the lad; “but what’s the use of jerking a fellow’s arm off, when you want to tell him to do a thing?”

After some delay the match was produced and struck, and it showed them a sight that made their blood run cold with terror!

Less than two paces in front of Harry Northend yawned a black abyss, fully twenty feet in width, through whose fathomless depths roared a torrent of water, with a hollow, reverberating sound, as if it were hundreds of feet below.

Another moment, and both would have walked over into eternity.

As the match flickered and fell from the hand of Harry, he gasped and clutched the arm of his comrade, exclaiming, in a horrified whisper:

“What an escape! You saved me again.”

“I doubted from the first,” he replied, in a calm voice, “because the sound was not natural to me. We are lost, as you can see for yourself; but we will not give up nor keep idle. It is better to push ahead, if we do get wrong.”

“Hello! see there!” exclaimed Harry, the next moment. “There is something of a different order.”

Both saw at the same instant a small, dim point of light, that looked like the shining of a pale star through mist or vapor.

“What can that be?” he asked, as they paused and gazed toward it.

“I can not guess even,” replied Little Rifle; “let us go toward it and see whether we can not find out!”