by Kirk Munroe
CHAPTER XX
PEVERIL IS TAKEN FOR A GHOST
The situation in which the two principal characters of this story wereleft at the close of the preceding chapter was so embarrassing to boththat for several seconds they continued to stare at each other insilent amazement. Mary Darrell, her face alternately flushing andpaling with confusion, seemed fascinated and incapable of motion. Inspite of Peveril's astonishingly disreputable appearance, she at oncerecognized him as being the young stranger whom she had seen twicebefore, and had even helped out of an awkward predicament. She alsoknew that he had in some way aroused her father's enmity. But he hadtaken his departure from that vicinity several days earlier, and,though she had wondered if he would ever come back, she had not reallyexpected to see him again.
Now to come upon him so suddenly, looking so dreadful, and to realizethat, incredible as it seemed, he must have learned the secret of thecavern, was all so bewildering and startling as to very nearly takeaway her breath. So she simply stared.
It must be confessed that Peveril's present appearance was not soprepossessing as it had been at other times, and might be again. Hehad lost his hat, his hair was uncombed, his hands were bruised andsoiled, while his clothing was torn and covered with dirt from theunderground passages through which he had so recently struggled. Buthis face was quite clean, for he had just given it a thoroughscrubbing, and to it the girl's gaze was principally directed.
It was Peveril who first broke the embarrassing silence.
"I am very glad to see you again," he said, "and to find that you area real flesh-and-blood girl, instead of only a vision, or a sort of arock-nymph, as I imagined you might be from the way you disappearedthat other time."
"What makes you think I am a girl?" asked Mary Darrell, whose face wasthe only part of her that Peveril could see.
"Why, because," he began, hesitatingly--"because you are toogood-looking to be anything but a girl, and because--Oh, well, becauseI am certain that you are. What else could you be, anyway?"
Mary Darrell's face was crimson, but still she answered, stoutly, "Imight be a boy, you know."
"No, indeed. No boy could blush as you are doing at this moment."
In reply, the girl rose to her feet and stepped out on the ledge infull view of the young man. She was clad in a golf suit, neat-fittingand becoming, but masculine in every detail. She had become soaccustomed to dressing in that way that she was perfectly at her easein the costume, and even preferred it to her own proper garments.
"I beg your pardon," stammered poor Peveril, as he gazed inbewilderment at the apparition thus presented. "I'm awfully ashamed tohave made such a stupid mistake, but really, you know--"
"Oh, it's all right," replied the other, "and you needn't apologize. Ihave so often been taken for a girl that I am quite used to it. Andnow may I ask who you are? why you are here? what you are doing downthere? how you propose to get away? and--"
"Hold on, my dear fellow!" interrupted Peveril. "Don't you think yourlist of questions is already long enough without adding any more?"
"I suppose it is," laughed the other, assuming a seat in an expectantattitude at the base of the stunted cedar.
The novelty of the situation, combined with its absolute safety, sofar as she was concerned, was fascinating to the lonely girl. "Now youmay begin," she added, "and tell me everything you know aboutyourself."
"That would be altogether too long a story," replied Peveril, a littlenettled at what he mentally termed the cheek of the youth. "Besides,"he continued, "I am too nearly starved to do much talking, seeingthat, for more days than I can remember, I have had nothing to eat buta rat, and--"
"A rat!" cried the other, in a tone of horror. "You didn't really eata rat?"
"Indeed I did, and I would gladly eat another at this very minute, Iam so hungry. Don't you think you could get me one? Or if you had anycold victuals that you could spare--"
At that moment Mary Darrell, without waiting to hear another word,jumped up and disappeared, leaving Peveril to wonder what had struckthe young fellow, and hoping that he had gone for something in theshape of food.
"I wish I'd got him to let down that rope again first," he said tohimself, as he paced back and forth across the ledge; "then I couldhave pulled myself up and gone with him, thereby saving both time andtrouble. I would have sworn, though, that he was a girl. Never was sodeceived in my life. He must have a sister, and perhaps they aretwins, for it surely was a girl that I saw here the other time. Allthe same, I'm rather glad she isn't on hand just now, for I shouldhate to have any girl see me in my present disguise. My appearancemust be decidedly tough and tramp-like. Wonder if I can't do somethingto improve it? That chap might be just idiot enough to bring hissister back with him."
Thus thinking, the young man attempted to get a look at himself in thewater-mirror of the lake, and was trying to comb his hair with hisfingers, when a merry laugh from above put an end to his toilet andcaused him to start up in confusion.
His young friend of the golf suit had returned, and was letting down asmall basket attached to a stout cord.
"Why don't you drop the tackle and let me come up there to you?"suggested Peveril, who was not only very tired of the ledge, butcurious to make a closer acquaintance with his new friend.
"Oh no," said the other, hurriedly, "I can't do that. But look out!catch the basket. I am sorry not to have brought you a better lunch,but you seemed in such a hurry that I thought you might not beparticular."
"It's fine," rejoined Peveril, who was already making a ravenousattack on the bread and cold meat contained in the basket. "Youcouldn't have brought me anything that I should have liked better, orthat would have done me more good, and I am a thousand times obliged."
A few minutes of silence ensued after this, while the one in the golfsuit eagerly watched the other satisfy his hunger.
When the last crumb of food had disappeared, Peveril heaved a sigh ofcontent. "I feel like a new man now," he said, "and if you will onlybe so kind as to throw down that tackle--"
"But you haven't answered a single one of my questions," interruptedthe other.
"Can't I do that up there as well as here?"
"No, I want them answered right off, now."
"Well, you are a queer sort of a chap," retorted Peveril; "but, seeingthat you were so kind about the lunch, I don't mind humoring you abit. Let me see: What were they? Oh! First--who am I? Well, I amRichard Peveril; but beyond that I hardly know how to answer.Second--why am I here? Because I can't get away. Third--what am Idoing? Answering questions. Fourth--how do I propose to get away? Byclimbing the rope that you will let down to me, of course, and thenhave you show me the same way out of the cavern that you take."
AT SEEING PEVERIL, THE MEN UTTERED A CRY OF TERROR]
"Oh, but I can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Because I have promised never to show it to any one. But, if youdon't know the way, how did you get into the cavern?"
"If you'll show me your way out, I'll show you mine," replied Peveril,who was growing impatient.
"I tell you I can't. It is simply impossible."
"Oh, well! I won't urge you, then. Only let down the rope, so that Ican get up to where you are, and I'll manage to find my own way out."
"But I don't dare even to do that," answered the other, in genuinedistress.
"You don't mean to leave me down here forever, do you?"
"No, of course not; but--Oh, I know! I'll send a boat for you. So,just wait patiently a little while longer and you shall be taken off."
"I say! hold on!" cried Richard; but his words were unheeded, for,acting on the impulse of the moment, the other had disappeared, and hewas talking to empty space.
"Confound the boy!" he exclaimed, impatiently. "I never heard ofanything so utterly absurd. Why, in the name of common-sense, shouldhe object to showing me the way out of his old cave? One would thinkthat ordinary humanity--But boys are such heartless young beggars thatthere's no such th
ing as appealing to their sympathies. If it had onlybeen his sister now!"
In the meantime Mary Darrell had hastened from the cavern full of hernew plan for rescuing the prisoner without betraying the secret of theunderground passage.
She at first thought of appealing to her father for aid, but,remembering his bitterness against the young man, decided to actwithout him. So she called two miners who were at work about the mouthof the shaft and bade them follow her. As they did so she led the wayto the basin, and, entering a boat, ordered the men to row her outinto the lake.
They obeyed without hesitation, and, as Mary steered, she soon had thesatisfaction of seeing her prisoner just where she had left him.
He was at the same time relieved of a growing anxiety by the approachof the boat, in which he finally recognized the young fellow who,although acting so curiously, had, on the whole, proved himself afriend.
The boat approached so close to the ledge that Mary had given theorder to cease rowing before the oarsmen turned their heads to seewhere they were. As they did so, they uttered a simultaneous cry ofterror, again seized their oars, whirled their light craft around,and, in spite of Mary Darrell's angry protestations, began to row withfrantic haste back in the direction from which they had come.
Although Peveril was not so much surprised at this proceeding as hemight have been had he not recognized the villain Rothsky in thebow-oarsman, he was bitterly disappointed, and paced up and down hisnarrow prison with restless impatience.
"Oh! If I ever get out of this scrape!" he cried.
Less than an hour afterwards, when Mary Darrell again entered thecavern, but this time in company with her father, to whom she hadconfided the whole story, Peveril had disappeared. There was no boatto be seen, and they were confident that none had been on the coastthat day. The derrick, with its tackle, was just as Mary had left it,yet neither in the cavern nor on the ledge was a trace of the youngman to be seen.
