Chapter 8. A Random Shot

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_ CHAPTER EIGHT. A RANDOM SHOT

"How about the cold pudding?"

"Look here, Ladle, if you say any more about that it means a fight."

"Ha, ha! Poor old Cinder riding the nightmare, and dreaming about the Scraw! Wish I'd been sleeping at the cottage that night. I'd have woke you up: I'd have given you cold pig!"

"Lucky for you that you weren't," said Vince. "I'd have given you something, my lad. But, I say, Ladle, drop it. I wouldn't have told you about that if I'd known you were always going to fire it off at me."

"Well it does seem so comic for a fellow to go stuffing himself with cold pudding, and then begin dreaming he was hanging at the end of our rope."

"Look here," said Vince sharply, "if you'd felt what I did that day, though I didn't say much, I'll be bound to say you'd have dreamed of it after."

"I felt bad enough," said Mike, suddenly growing serious, as they walked together over the heathery land, unwittingly taking the direction of the scene of their adventure; "and I don't mind telling you, Cinder, that I've woke up four nights since with a start, fancying I was trying to hold the rope, and it kept slipping through my fingers. Ugh! it was very horrid."

He laid his hand on Vince's shoulder, and his companion followed his example, both walking along very silently for a few minutes before Vince said quietly:

"I say, you won't grin if I tell you something?"

"No: honour bright."

"Well, let's see: it was last Thursday week we went, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"I've been thinking about it ever since."

"So have I: not about the rope business, you know, but about that place. It's just as if something was always making me want to go."

Vince let his hand drop, shook himself free, and faced his companion.

"But that's just how I feel," he said. "I keep on thinking about it and wanting to go."

"Not to try and get down with a rope?" said Mike excitedly.

"Brrrr! No!" exclaimed Vince, with a shudder. "I don't say I wouldn't go down with a rope from the cliffs if it was to help some poor chaps who were wrecked and drowning, because that would seem to be right, I suppose, and what one would expect any fellow to do for one if being drowned. Why, you'd go down then, Ladle."

"I d'know. I shouldn't like to; but when one got excited with seeing a wreck, perhaps I should try."

"There wouldn't be any perhaps about it, Ladle," said Vince gravely. "Something comes over people then. It's the sort of thing that makes men go out in lifeboats, or swim off through the waves with ropes, or, as I've read, go into burning houses to get people out."

Mike nodded, and they went on very thoughtful and dreamy over the purple heather and amongst the golden furze till they reached the edge of the scrub oak wood, where they stopped short and looked in each other's eyes again.

"What do you say? shall we go and have another look at the place?"

"I feel as if I should like to," replied Mike; "and at the same time I'm a bit shrinky. You won't do anything risky, will you?"

"That I just won't," said Vince decisively.

"Then come on."

They plunged into the wood eagerly, and being more accustomed to the way they got along more easily; and decided as they walked that they would go to the southern end of the slope and then try and get up to have a look over the ridge from there, while afterwards they would make their way along the landward side of the jagged serrations of weather-worn granite points right to the northern end if they could get so far, and return at the bottom of the slope.

"That'll be more than any one in the Crag has ever done," said Vince, "and some day we'll bring Mr Deane, and see what he'll say to it."

Little more was said, but, being of one mind, they steadily went on fighting their way through the difficulties which beset them on all sides, till, hot, weary and breathless, they neared the slope some considerable distance from the spot where they had approached it first. Then, after a short rest, they climbed up, over and among the fallen rocks, with nothing more to startle them than the rush of a rabbit or two, which went scuttling away.

Half-way up they saw a couple of those fast disappearing birds, the red-legged choughs, and startled a few jackdaws, which went off shouting at them, Mike said; and then the top was won, and they had a long survey of the cove from another point of view.

But there was nothing fresh to see; all beneath them was entirely hid from view, and though they looked again and again as they continued their course along the ridge their patience and toil were not rewarded, for, save that they were from different standpoints, the views they obtained of the rocks and rushing waters were the same.

They continued along the ridge by slow climbing for a considerable distance, and then as if moved by the same spirit they stopped and looked at each other.

"I say," said Mike, "it don't seem any good to go any farther."

"No," was the reply, given in a very decisive tone. "The only way to see that place down below is to get there in a boat."

"And old Joe Daygo says it's not right to go, and we should never get back; so we shall never see it."

"I don't believe that," said Vince shortly.

"Well, I don't want to, but it seems as if he's right, and the more one looks the more one believes in him."

"I don't," said Vince. "The more I look the more I seem to want to go and have a thorough good search, and I can't help thinking he knows why."

"Shall we try him again?"

Vince thoughtfully shook his head, as he gazed down once more from between two pieces of granite that the storms of centuries had carved till they seemed to have been set upon edge.

"Might offer him some money."

"I don't believe he'd like it, and you know Jemmy Carnach once said that, though he always dressed so shabbily and never spent anything, he always was well off."

"Well, then, what are we to do? I want to see the place worse than ever. It looks so tempting, and as if there's no knowing what we might find."

"I don't think we should find anything about it but that it would be a good place for fishing. It must be if no one ever goes there. Why, Ladle, all the holes among the rocks must swarm with lobsters, and the congers must be as big as serpents."

Mike nodded.

"But how are we to get there to fish for them?"

"Don't know, unless we try it ourselves with a boat."

"Would you risk it?"

Vince did not answer for a few moments, but stood clinging to the rock, gazing down and searchingly examining the opening through which the tide poured.

"I'm not sure yet," he said; "but I begin to think I would. That narrow passage would look wider when you were right in it, and the way to do it would be to come in when the tide was high,--there wouldn't be so much rushing and tumbling about of the water then; and the way to get out again would be at high water too."

"But that would mean staying till the tide had gone down and come up again--hours and hours."

"Yes," said Vince, "that would be the way; but it would want ever so much thinking about first."

"Yes," replied Mike; "it would want ever so much thinking about first. Ready to go back?"

"May as well," said Vince; and he stepped down, after a farewell look down at the sheltered cove, fully realising the fact that any one passing it a short distance from the shore would take the barrier of rocks which shut it in for the continuation of the cliffs on either side; and as the place had a terrible reputation for dangerous reefs and currents, in addition to the superstitious inventions of the people of the Crag, it seemed highly probable that it had never been approached unless by the unfortunate crew of some doomed vessel which had been battered to pieces and sunk unseen and unheard.

"Shall I go first?" said Vince.

"Yes: you lead."

"Mean to go along among the bushes at the bottom, or would you like to slope down at once?"

"Oh, we'll go back the way we said, only we shan't have done as much as we promised ourselves."

Vince started off down the slope, and upon reaching the trough-like depression at the bottom he began to work his way in and out among the fallen blocks, leaping the hollows wherever there was safe landing on the other side. At times he had to stop to extricate himself from the brambles, but on the whole he got along pretty well till their way was barred by a deeper rift than they had yet encountered, out of which the brambles and ferns grew luxuriantly.

The easier plan seemed to be to go round one end or the other; but it only appeared to be the simpler plan, for on trying to put it to the test it soon proved itself to be the harder, promising as it did a long, toilsome climb, whichever end they took.

"Jump it," said Mike: "there's a good landing-place on the other side."

"Yes, but if I don't reach it I shall get a nice scratching. Look at that blackthorn covered with brambles."

"Oh, never mind a few thorns," said Mike, grinning. "I'll pick them all out for you with a packing needle."

"Thankye," said Vince, eyeing the rift he had to clear: "you'll have enough to do to pick out your own thorns, for if I go down I'm sure you will. Stand aside and let's have a good start."

There was no running, for it was a standing jump from one rugged block to another a little lower; and after taking a good swing with both arms, the lad launched himself forward, drawing his feet well up, clearing the mass of tangled bushes below, and just reaching the other side with his toes.

An inch or two more would have been sufficient; as it was, he had not leaped quite far enough, for his boots grated and scratched down the side facing him, the bushes below checked him slightly, and he tried to save himself with his hands and clung to the rough block for a few moments. Then, to Mike's great amusement, he slipped suddenly lower, right in among the brambles which grew from out of a rift, and looked matted enough together to support him as he hung now by his hands.

"Scramble up, Cinder!" cried Mike. "You are a jumper!"

"Wait till you try it, my lad," was the reply; and then, "Must drop and climb out at the end."

As Vince spoke his hands glided from their hold, and he dropped out of sight among the bushes, and at the same moment, to Mike's horror, there was the rushing noise of falling stones, increasing to quite an avalanche, and sounding hollow, echoing, and strange, as if descending to a terrific depth.

Mike's heart seemed to stand still as he craned forward, gazing at the slight opening in the brambles which his companion had made; and as he listened intently he tried hard to speak, but his mouth felt dry, and not a word would come.

It was horrible. They had both imagined that they were about to leap over a hollow between some masses of stone, probably two, perhaps three feet deep; but the bushes and brambles which had rooted in the sides had effectually masked what was evidently a deep chasm, penetrating to some unknown distance in the bowels of the earth.

What to do? Run for help, or try to get down?

Before Mike could decide, in his fear and excitement, which, he drew his breath heavily, with a gasp of relief, for a voice sounding hollow and strange came up through the bushes and ferns.

"Mike!"

"Yes. Hullo, are you hurt?"

"Bit scratched," came up.

"How far are you down? Tell me what to do. Shall I go for a rope?"

"Steady!" came up: "don't ask so much at once. Not down very far. I can see the light, and it's all of a slope here, but awful lower down. Did you hear the stones go with a rush?"

"Yes, yes; but Vince, old chap, tell me how I am to help you."

"I can't: I don't know. I think I can climb out, only I hardly like to stir for fear of a slip. Here goes, though. I can't stay like this."

Mike stood gazing down at the bushes, trembling with anxiety as he heard a rustling and scraping sound beneath, which made him long to speak and ask questions about how his companion got on, but he feared to do so lest he should take his attention from the work he had on hand. Then came the rattle of a falling stone going slowly down, as if there were a good, steady slope; and the boy listened for its plunge into water far beneath, but the falling of the stone ceased to be heard, while the rustling and scraping sound made by the climber increased. Then all at once the bushes began to move and a hand appeared at the far end.

"Take care! pray take care!" cried Mike. "Don't--pray don't slip back!"

"Oh, it's all right now," said Vince, to the watcher's great relief. "It's all of a slope here, as if it had once been a place where water ran down. Wait a moment till I get out my knife."

There was a pause, during which Mike climbed round to the end where Vince was trying to get out; and he was there by the time his companion began hacking at the brambles with his big knife, first his arm appearing and soon after his head, as he chopped away, getting himself free, and seizing the hand extended to him from where Mike knelt and reached down.

"Hah!" cried Vince, as he climbed on to one of the rugged blocks, "that wasn't nice. It slopes down from here, so that where I fell through I must have dropped a dozen feet; but I came down standing, and then fell this way on my hands and stopped myself from sliding, when a lot of stones that had been waiting for a touch went down."

"But are you hurt?" cried Mike anxiously.

"Not much: bit bruised, I suppose. But I say, isn't it rum? There must have been water running to make a place like that. It must have come all along the bottom, where we've been creeping, and run down here, eating its way, like your father and mine were talking about one evening."

"I'd forgotten," said Mike. "But if it ran down there, where did it go to?"

"Down to the sea, of course, and--I say, Mike, don't you see?" cried Vince excitedly.

"See? See what?" said the lad, staring.

"What I said."

"How could any one see what you said!" cried Mike, ready enough to laugh now that his companion was out of danger.

"Oh, don't be stupid at a time like this!" grumbled Vince excitedly. "Once water begins to eat away, it goes on eating a channel for itself, like it does at the waterfall over the other side of the island. Well, this must have cut itself a way along. It's quite a big, sloping passage, and it must go down to the shore. Can't you see now?"

"I don't know. Do you mean that hole leads down to the shore?"

"Yes, or into some cavern like the great holes where the stream runs out into the sea."

"Then it would be a way down into the Black Scraw?" cried Mike excitedly.

"Of course it would. Why, Mikey, we've found out what we were looking for!"

"You mean you tumbled upon it," said Mike, laughing.

"Tumbled into it," cried Vince, whose face was flushed with eagerness. "Come on down, and let's have a look if I'm not right."

"What, down there?"

"Yes, of course."

"But isn't it dark?"

"Black enough lower down; but you can see the top part, because the light shines through all these brambles and thorns."

"But hadn't we better wait till I've got a lanthorn and the rope?"

"Why, of course, before we try to explore it; but we might go and look a little way. You're not afraid?"

"No, I don't think I'm afraid," said Mike.

"Then come on."

Without a moment's hesitation Vince began to lower himself down where he had so lately emerged, and Mike followed; but in a few minutes they had decided that they could do nothing without a light. All they could make out was that there was a rugged slope, very steep and winding, going right away in the direction of the sea. They picked up the loose stones beneath their feet, and threw them into the darkness, and listened to hear them go bounding down, striking the sides and floor; but there seemed to be no precipitous fall, and at last, thoroughly satisfied with their discovery, they climbed back into daylight, and sat down on the stones to rest and think.

"I've got it!" said Mike suddenly. "It isn't what you think."

"What is it, then?"

"An old mine, where they bored for lead in the old, old days."

"No," said Vince stubbornly, "it's what I say--the channel of an old stream; and you'll see."

"So will you, my lad, when we bring a lanthorn. I say you'll find the walls sparkling with what-you-may-call-it--you know--that glittering lead ore, same as we've got specimens of in the cabinet at home."

"No," said Vince; "you'll find that it'll be all smooth, worn granite at the sides, where the water has been running for hundreds of years."

"Till it all ran away. Very well, then: let's go back at once and get a lanthorn and the rope."

Vince laughed. "We've got to get home first, and by the time we've done that we shan't want to make another journey to-day; but I say to-morrow afternoon, directly after dinner. Are you willing?"

"Of course."

"And you'll bring the rope?"

"To be sure; and you the crowbar and hammer?"

Vince promised, and sat there very thoughtful, as he gazed down at the hacked-away brambles.

"Let's put these away or throw them down," he said.

"Why?"

"Because if Old Daygo came along here, he'd see that some one had found a way down into the Scraw."

"Daygo! What nonsense! I don't believe he ever was along here in his life."

"Perhaps not; but he may come now, if he sees us spying about. I'm sure he watches us."

"And I'm sure you've got a lot of nonsense in your nut about the old chap. Now then, shall we go?"

"Yes; I'm willing. Think we can find it again?"

"Easily," said Mike. "Look up yonder: we can take those two pieces of rock up on the ridge for our bearings. They stand as two ends of the base A B, as Mr Deane would say, and if you draw lines from them they will meet here at this point, C. This hole's C, and we can't mistake it."

"No. But look here: this is better still. Look at that bit of a crag split like a bishop's mitre."

"Yes: I see."

"We've got to get this laid-down rock in a line with it, and there are our bearings; we can't be wrong then."

"No," cried Mike. "Who wouldn't know how to take his bearings when he's out, and wants to mark a spot! Now then, is it lay our heads for home?"

It was a long while before either of them slept that night for thinking of their discovery, and when they did drop off, the dark, tunnel-like place was reproduced in their dreams. _

Read next: Chapter 9. Study Versus Discovery

Read previous: Chapter 7. The Pangs Of Cold Pudding

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