Part 17

"As I was saying, this fire-damp, which is always much more dangerous after an explosion in the mines, is generally formed by the decomposition of certain substances in vegetable fibres, or in veins of carbonised mineral. That is why it is called carbonic acid gas. It is much heavier than the air. You remember the passage was contracted, and the air seems to have become impregnated at that particular place."

"Well, whatever it is," said Joe, who had just made a few spasmodic heaves, "it's good enough to keep out of. Let's give the acid, or gas, or damp, or whatever it's called, leg bail."

The party of defeated but not disgraced explorers now retraced their steps. Eagerly scanning the walls as they retreated for signs of diverging passages, they soon found themselves at the landing, whence they swung down into the blind alley that led to the main passage.

"Sandy," said Joe, when the party had emerged, "give that passage a name. Leichhardt gave names, you know, to all the creeks, hills, and water-holes he discovered in his travels. I reckon yon's our discovery. Faugh!" ejecting a mouthful of saliva, "it tastes like rotten soda-water. Let's call the beastly place by a name that'll fit it."

"Christen away."

"Me! Well--er--how'd 'Poison Pot' do?"

'"Death Trap' would be better," replied Sandy. So thought the others, and it was accordingly named "Death Trap Passage."

"Now, chaps, let's get back to the cathedral. There's a likely spot there--that hole, I mean, where the boulder was jammed."

"What's the time, Mr. Neville?" asked Joe, on arrival at the big chamber.

"Quarter to one."

"Why, we've hardly been three hours in! I made sure it was about six."

"I vote we have a go at the prog," chipped in Tom. "It'll help to take the nasty taste away."

"Good idea!" was the general verdict.

The pals had lost a good deal of their natural spirits. Three hours groping in semi-darkness, with a throat full of choke-damp thrown in, was enough to stale the strongest; yet they had no thought of surrender. They were "baffled, to fight better."

In a few minutes the outer entrance is gained, and in another five minutes they reach camp.

The hot tea was particularly acceptable. Nothing in the wide world could have been more refreshing and stimulating. Billy-tea boiled with gum sticks, just so far sweetened as to countervail the natural roughness without impairing the aromatic flavour, stands at the head of all beverages--whether aerated, brewed, distilled, or concocted.

"My word, this is bully tea, ain't it?" cried Tom, smacking his lips with satisfaction, after emptying his pannikin for the third time.

Neville in particular--to whom the outing and the exploration was a new experience--felt, as he puffed at a cigar, the stirrings of a larger and a nobler nature than that which had hitherto exercised him. Business life seemed flat and stale compared with this al fresco existence.

"Time to be goin' back again," said the practical Sandy, breaking in on a post-prandial reverie. "Gimme the tommie, Joe."

Tomahawk in hand, the boy walked to the sapling clump, and selecting a stout specimen, vigorously attacked it with the weapon. From this he cut two six-foot lengths, sharpening the thicker ends, crowbar fashion.

"What's that for, Sandy?"

"To prise the boulder. They'll make capital levers."

Armed with these additional implements, the lads returned to the caves, and in due course lowered themselves into the cathedral.

The spot which Sandy had mentally marked as a likely one has already been described. It was a cleft in the floor at its junction with the wall, and immediately behind a huge stalagmite. It must have escaped the vigilant eyes of the professional trackers. The corner was a very dark one, and unless one looked closely behind the boulder the cleft would not be observed. Sandy had lit upon it in a promiscuous search, and was impressed by its possibilities as another outlet, or inlet, to other cavities.

No sooner had the boys arrived at the spot, and Sandy had cast his eye upon it, than he exclaimed, "Somebody's been here!"

"How d'yer know?"

"This stone is not in the same position as when I last saw it."

"Who could it 'a' been?"

"Dunno. I'm crack sure, however, that this stone was not square down the other day. The flat of it was down and the point of it up. Now it's reversed. Besides, here are crowbar marks."

"It'll be hard enough to get out--much harder than it would 'a' been if it hadn't been touched."

"Must have been a strong chap that turned it!"

"Strong? No one man could ever have done it! It would be difficult for two. Why, that stone's not a pound less than four hundredweight!"

"Well, time's goin'," said Joe, "and what's done's done. Let's at it, Sandy. Up-end her, and throw her over on the floor."

The lads vainly tried to insert the wooden bar. The cracks between the lid, so to speak, and the edge at the opening were not sufficiently wide to admit this.

"It won't do," said Sandy after a while; "we're gettin' no forrader."

"I suggest," interposed Neville, "that you widen the cracks."

"How can we do that?"

"Will you let me have a try?"

"My!--rather. Anything to get the blame thing out."

Neville picked up the tomahawk that was lying near at hand, and began striking the edges of the hole where Sandy had been prising.

"That's the stitch!" cried Tom. "Well done, Mr. Neville!"

The limestone readily yielded to Neville's strokes, and the crevice was soon wide enough to take in the thick end of the stout gum sapling.

Sandy and Neville, taking a pull at the end, levered the stone high enough for Joe, who had the other bar ready to insert between the raised end and the floor stone. With this additional lever power the "stopper" was canted on one side, high enough to put the stone chocks in. Another application of the bars, with two boys hanging on each and pulling simultaneously, brought the "stopper out of the bottle," and toppled it over with a thud that shook the floor; bringing down a stalactite with a crash, fortunately without harm to the exploring party.

Before venturing down, Joe, in whose mind an idea had been fermenting while the stone-raising business was being carried on, critically surveyed the stone "stopper."

"Look here!" remarked he, "these are the marks of an iron crowbar. Whoever removed this had the proper tools for it. Whatcher make of that? That upsets the town party theory, don't it?"

"It certainly makes the puzzle harder," said Neville.

"Think so? Makes it easier to me," quoth Sandy.

"How's that?"

"Looks more'n more like Ben Bolt's work."

"Think he's in there now?" exclaimed Tom, in an awed whisper.

"No, I don't think that. But it shows me that he's knocking about here again, an' he's been in the caves quite recently."

The boys looked into each other's faces, and felt--well, just as you would feel, brave reader, were you in the cavernous depths of earth, in the very haunts of proclaimed outlaws, not knowing at what moment they might spring upon you. Standing in the cold, damp, dim underground, at the mouth of an unknown passage, which might take you to the innermost den of the outlaws, could you contemplate advance without an attack of the creeps? The crevice, after going down sheer a few feet, turned on a level plane, right across the floor of the cathedral, in a westerly direction. How far could be known only by actual travel.

"Come on, boys," said Sandy, after a moment's silence; "it's what we've come here for. I believe, for one, we're goin' to solve the mystery."

One by one the lads dropped into the bottom of the well. The passage was of unequal width, but always wide enough to allow the party to proceed without squeezing, and had a fairly level floor. The floor, after extending two hundred paces or so in a westerly direction, began to decline somewhat sharply, and presently Sandy gave a warning shout--

"Water ahead!"

The others crowded round him as well as they could. There, at their very feet, was a pool of water of unknown depth.

"Here's a go, chaps! Looks as if it might be a swim."

The pool covered a fairly wide stretch, and was in a dip of the passage.

"Don't think it's a swim myself," remarked Joe. "Let's take off our boots an' pants. I fancy we'll find it only a wade. We can move cautiously and test it with a bar as we proceed."

The party did as suggested, and found to their satisfaction that the water did not rise above their knees; for none of them relished a swim in the icy water. After re-dressing, the company moved forward, and soon emerged into a spacious cavern that fairly sparkled with lime crystals. Little time, however, was spent in admiration. They moved across it in the same direction, and found two exits. After a short consultation, they decided to take the larger of the two passages, because it seemed to be a continuation of the old track. Just as they started, Tom, who was in the rear, on looking round, saw what appeared to be a bundle on the floor of the cave, some distance to the right.

"Wait a moment," cried he, as he ran to the object. "Oh, I say, here's a find!"

The others, who were in the entrance, backed out, and ran to his side. Tom held the old vine ladder in his hands.

There was no longer any doubt. There could be only one conclusion. At the sight of this the boys had a bad attack of the creeps.

"It's the 'rangers all right. They've slipped the police again." There seemed to be no alternative to this conclusion. "Seems to me," continued Joe, who was the quickest of the lot in reasoning out a thing, "that they've been back here again, and knowing that the bobbies'll be on the watch to trap 'em at this spot, they've locked up the house, in a way of speakin', an' thrown the key inside. I vote that we go on."

No one said nay, and so the advance was made. The passage presented no serious obstacle, widening and narrowing at intervals, but never too narrow to proceed. As they were squeezing through a difficult place, Sandy again sounded the alarm.

"What's up now?" said Joe, who was just behind.

"'Nother big cave, an' a deep drop into it, same as the other. There's a bar across here where they've slung ropes. Undo the lasso, chaps."

"Let's hope we're getting near the end of it."

The speaker was Joe. The truth is, the work was most tiring in its nature, and the spirits of the party were yielding to a very uneasy feeling, despite Joe's plausible theories that the end might be the reverse of pleasant. Should Ben Bolt, after all, be in hiding, well--the worst might happen.

Fixing the rope, they slipped down to the floor of the new cave. This, though not remarkable for beauty, was commodious enough, and had several outlets, in one of which there were indubitable evidences of the one-time presence of horses.

"Hello! here's the stable," cried Tom, who was first in this recess.

Sure enough in a vault-shaped but very roomy cavern, entered by a wide passage, was the robbers' stable. Several bundles of bush hay were stacked in one corner. A manure heap filled the other. All this pointed to a prolonged occupation. The idea of the robbers' presence had so materialised by these later evidences that the boys felt they might be confronted at any moment by the desperadoes.

"What'll we do, Joe?" said Tom. "Slip quietly back again?"

"Slip back again, after getting this far! Don't be frightened, Tom."

"I'm not; y'are yourself."

"Well," replied Joe, with a smile, "I'll not deny that I've felt like it more'n once. But there's one thing you've not noticed, chaps."

"What's that?" chorused the group.

"There's not been any horses here for weeks."

"How d'yer know?"

"No fresh droppings."

That fact was indisputable, conclusive, and enheartening. It lifted a load of apprehension, to call it by no harder name; and now, with buoyant spirits, to which they had been strangers for some time, the boys continued the search. The end, indeed, was close at hand.

"Look out sharply for tracks," was the command of the leader on leaving the stable, stooping low as he spoke, and eagerly scanning the floor. Hoof-prints were discovered and followed. They led to a corner of the big cave which narrowed at that point, and continued on as an opening. After going a few paces, Sandy called out, "Hurrah--hurrah! Light ahead!"

Sure enough, a few yards farther the passage was lighted with natural rays that shot through a small opening some distance ahead. The party was exultant, and needed no telling that this was sunlight. In this subterranean fashion the explorers had traversed, mole-like, the range spur, and proved the theory of the dual entrance.

Like as the exultation of Columbus when the first sight of the new world convinced him that he had solved the riddle of ages, or as Leichhardt felt when he and his dauntless band stood upon the shores of the great northern gulf, after having passed through the very heart of Australia's _terra incognita_, so did the breasts of these brave youths swell with the spirit of triumph when that ray of light revealed the joyful fact that they, a group of mere youngsters, had succeeded where the experts had failed.

The whole company darted through the spacious passage to the opening. It was in the face of a cliff, and fully fifty yards from its sloping base. So steep was the cliff that, viewed from a distance, it appeared perpendicular; forbidding to anything save rock wallabies and--Ben Bolt.

Its very roughness, however, made its ascent a possibility. Had it been a smooth face, no horse, however capable, could have climbed it. Ben Bolt was always able to achieve the possible. Many of his wild rides bordered on the miraculous. His personality magnetised his steeds. Wherever he led they would go, and so the steep ravine that rose from the rocky base to this entrance afforded a precarious footing for the outlaw's horses.

"Now then, boys, before we go down, let's give a cheer," said Sandy. Led by the leader, the group signalled its victory--for such it was, and no mean one--by a rousing cheer that woke the echoes of the precipice and spread wave-like over the landscape beyond.

It penetrated the ears of two men who were riding quietly in the bush that lay beyond the rocky plateau which formed the base of the cliffs.

"What's that?" exclaimed the elder to the youth who rode at his side.

"Sounds like a cheer," replied the youth. "Who can it be--traps?"

Turning their horses' heads, they rode swiftly but silently to the edge of the scrubby timber which they were traversing. Halting just within the bushy barrier, they parted the leaves, and there, perched high up the cliff's side, were four youthful forms--the band of cave explorers.

"Now, boys, we'll go back an' have another look round before we leave. Might find something belonging to Ben Bolt worth carryin' away. We can easily get out on this side, and cross the spur a little higher up, where the cliff runs out. 'Twon't take long neither! I say--won't we have a yarn to spin to-night!"

But the unexpected is yet to happen. The company retraced their steps to the cave, and did a little exploration; finding nothing, however, but a couple of leather mail-bags and some opened letters--the remains of coach-robbery spoils.

"This is the last one, mates," remarked Sandy, as the group entered the mouth of a passage. After traversing its course a little distance, it opened up into a small cave, twenty feet square. On one side of it were bunks similar to those in the other cave. While in the act of examining it, Joe fancied he heard a footfall. Stopping a moment to listen, he distinctly heard the sounds of stealthy footsteps.

"'S-s-sh-h-h, boys! Some un's followin'!"

At this startling statement the boys halted and turned round, to be confronted by two forms hardly distinguishable in the surrounding gloom. The pals gave a gasp of terror as the call peculiar to highwaymen smote their ears and they faced two weapons, levelled point blank.

"Hands up!"

Candles are dropped in sheer fright in an eye-wink, and hands go up in gross darkness.

The sun had just set as the four youths, in company with two men, mounted their horses and took the track leading to Bullaroi. Strange to say, the lads showed no signs of fear, nor were they bound with cords.

"By jingo!" cried Tom, who had just put his horse at a big log and cleared it in fine style, followed in order by Joe, Sandy, and Neville, "this is the grandest outin' I've ever had!"

"It's a' very weel," answered Mr. M'Intyre, who with Denny Kineavy had been following the tracks of some strayed cattle which were making for the ranges, and were passing the cliff opening while the cave explorers were ringing the welkin with cheers, "but supposin' that instead o' us, it 'd really been the bushrangers returnin' and catcht ye trespassin'? What then, ma laddies?"

This query raised visions of possibilities that sobered the vaulting spirits of the pals for some brief moments. Very thankful were they in a moment of reflection that they had been bailed up by a friendly enemy.

"Heigho!"

"What's matter, Joe?"

"Fun's all over: measly school opens to-morrow!"

*CHAPTER XXVII*

*A RESPITE*

"Ah! those were the days of youth's perfect spring, When each wandering wind had a song to sing, When the touch of care and the shade of woe Were but empty words we could never know, As we rode 'neath the gum and the box trees high, And our idle laughter went floating by." GEORGE ESSEX EVANS.

Joe little thought when making the melancholy statement, "measly school opens to-morrow," how prophetic the utterance was.

The first words that greeted the party on their return to the homestead were: "School won't open for another three weeks; the town's full of measles."

The pals tried hard to look sober and concerned as Mrs. M'Intyre dilated upon the nature of the epidemic. It was a vain attempt. To their credit be it said, they were very poor hypocrites. Whatever sorrow they might feel on account of their friends who were in the grip of the disease was more than counterbalanced by the blissful intimation that, owing to the epidemic which had unexpectedly broken out, the school authorities had resolved, for at least three weeks, to keep the school closed.

"There's no going home at present, boys. I wouldn't dream of letting you return. I'll just write to your mothers to say I intend keeping you here, unless they want you particularly. I feel sure they will be thankful for your absence at such a time. So you'll have to make the best of it, boys. Are you sorry?"

"Well--er--of course--I'm a----"

"Yes--a--of course--you're--a--shedding tears at the thought of staying here another fortnight or so--aren't you, Joe? You and Tom do look as miserable as moulting fowls in wet weather at the bare thought of holiday extension."

The lads burst out laughing at Jessie's sally, and declared that it was the crummiest news they had received during the holidays.

"That's a' very weel, and ye needna fash, laddies, that you'll ootwear your welcome. But here's some news that may no' be so pleasant," said the squatter, who had been busy with his mail. "Here's a letter frae Inspector Garvie to say that Ben Bolt and his mate are in the deestric' again. He stuck up Dirrilbandie Station three days ago, drivin' a' the hands aboot the homesteed, along wi' Wilson and his faimily, into ane o' the men's huts, in which they were held by his youthfu' confederate while he ransacked the place."

"Oh! the poor Wilsons! Did he hurt any of them? and did he get much?"

In reply to a fusillade of questions from the excited household, M'Intyre stated that though Ben Bolt was in one of his black humours, was in fact on the point of shooting one of the men for cheeking his mate, and was only dissuaded from this atrocity by the pleading of Mrs. Wilson, no one was injured. He had taken a considerable amount of loot, however, in the shape of jewellery; also a pair of new improved revolvers, as well as three horses, one of them being Wilson's handsome chestnut gelding, the finest hack in the district, and for which he had a short time previously refused seventy pounds from the police authorities.

There had been an outcry against the Government for not having provided a better class of mount for the troopers. Again and again the schemes of the police to capture the bushrangers in various parts of the colony failed, chiefly because they were out-classed in horse-flesh. A tardy Government, aroused at last to action by the clamour of the people, was doing its best to remedy this unequal condition.

"I suppose, sir, the police are in full chase of the desperadoes?"

"They're doin' their best, ye may be sure, Mr. Neville. Garvie has two pairties oot scoorin' the country, and is holdin' himsel' in readiness to move to ony pint at a moment's notice. As the scoondrels hae cut the Walcha telegraph line, the presumption is they will be raidin' the place, and Sergeant Hennessey is following up with the utmost speed. The Sub wants the loan o' Jacky or Willy, or both, as trackers, and to let him ken at aince should there be ony signs o' them on Bullaroi, 'specially aboot the caves."

"Are you goin' to lend him the boys, father?"

"Weel, it's very awkward, but I'll hae to assist the coorse o' juistice when ca'd upon. We maun dae oor pairt to catch the rascals."

"Suppose you _had_ tumbled across the 'rangers in the caves, boys?"

"Well! an' s'p'osin' we had, Miss Jessie?" replied Tom, whose answer in tone and query suggested unspeakably bad things for the outlaws had they been unfortunate enough to meet the cave heroes.

"Let me pit ye a sum in arithmeetic, Thomas, ma laddie; juist a sma' sum in proportion. If twa stock wheep hondles, pinted at fowr cave explorers, each wi' a lighted candle in his hand, would cause the said candles to drop to the flure and fowr pair o' hands to go up like a toy acrobat when ye pu' the strings, what attitudes would the aforesaid explorers strike if a pair o' rale loaded peestols had been presented?"

"Tom is always a duffer at proportion," interjected Joe laughingly. "He has a trick of givin' answers that make Simpson sit up. To tell you the truth, sir, I don't think that the real article could have given us a greater shock. Speaking for myself, I confess that I've never had so bad an attack of the shakes before. My skin went goosey in a moment, an' my hair stood up like a hedgehog's spikes. I couldn't 'a' said a word for a hatful of sovereigns. You see, sir, _it was all very real to us for the moment_, and none of the others felt any better than myself, I bet tuppence."

"Joe's quite right, sir. I had a most dreadful feeling as we stood there in the black darkness. It seemed as if a vast abyss had suddenly engulfed us and we were sinking to fathomless depths."

"I'll back up Joe and Mr. Neville, dad. My word, when you spoke, it was as if some one had suddenly pulled me out of a dreadful nightmare."

The pals went to bed early, as they were tired out after the unwonted exertions of the day, but not to sleep. They were too excited for that.

"I say, chaps," exclaimed Sandy, jumping out of bed after he had tossed about for a few minutes, dragging his stretcher alongside the bigger bed, "let's settle what we're goin' to do."

"Was just thinking of doin' a sleep, Master M'Intyre, when you commenced to drag the jolly stretcher with enough noise to wake the seven sleepers. An' as for ole Tom, I fancied I heard a snore comin' through a hole in his pumpkin----"

"Pumpkin yourself, Blain. I'm as wide awake as you, or that grinnin' ape Sandy."

"How d'yer know I'm grinnin'?"

"'Cause I can see your jolly teeth shinin' in the dark. But I say, ole chap, I'm on for a confab. Ouch! my legs _are_ stiff. Wish I'd taken that hot bath your mother advised. Whatcher got in your ole noddle?"