CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
FINDING A TREASURE.
"Can't be time to get up yet," I thought, and I turned over on my softbed. It was too dark, and I was dozing off again when a loud snortinggasp made me start and throw off the clothes that lay so heavy on me.
Then I stopped short, trembling and puzzled. Where was I? It was verydark. That was not clothes, but something that slipped and trickledthrough my fingers as I grasped at it. My legs felt heavy and numbed,and this darkness was so strange that I couldn't make it out.
Was I asleep still? I must have been to sleep--heavily asleep, but Iwas awake now, and--what did it mean?
A curious feeling of horror was upon me, and I lay perfectly still. Icould not stir for some minutes, and then it all came like a flash, andI knew that I must have lain listening for some time to Shock breathingheavily, and then insensibly have fallen asleep, and for how long?
That I could not of course tell, but so long that the sand had gone ontrickling in till it had nearly covered me, as I lay nearest to theopening. It had been right over my chest, and sloped up and away from,me, so that my legs were deeply buried, and it required quite a struggleto get them free, while to my horror as I dragged them out from beneaththe heavy weight more sand came down, and one hard lump rolled down andup against me sufficiently hard to give me pain.
There was the same terrible silence about me, and it seemed to growdeeper. A short time before I had heard Shock breathing hard, but nowhis breath came softly, and then seemed to cease.
That silence had lasted some time, when all at once it was broken by mycompanion as I knelt there in the soft sand.
"Mars Grant! I say. You awake?"
"Yes."
"What yer doing of?"
"I am saying my prayers."
There was another silence here, and then Shock said softly:
"What yer praying for?"
"For help and protection in this terrible place," I cried passionately;and I crouched down lower as I bowed myself and prayed that I might seethe sunshine and the bright sky once again--that I might live.
Just then a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and I felt Shock's lipsalmost touch my ear as he whispered softly:
"I say--I want to say my prayers too."
"Well," I said sternly, "pray."
There was again that silence that seemed so painful, and then a lowhoarse voice at my side said slowly:
"I can't. I 'most forgets how."
"Shock," I cried, as I caught at his hands, which closed tightly andclung to mine; and for the first time it seemed to come to me that thispoor half-wild boy was only different to myself in that he had been leftneglected to make his way in life almost as he pleased, and that inspite of his wilful ways and half-savage animal habits it was more thewant of teaching than his fault.
I seemed to feel brighter and more cheerful as we sat together soonafter, discussing whether we should light the candle again, and all atonce Shock exclaimed:
"I say."
"What, Shock?"
"I won't shy nothing at you no more."
"It does not seem as if you will ever have the chance, Shock," I crieddolefully.
"Oh, I don't know, mate," he said; and at that word "mate" I seemed tofeel a curious shrinking from him; but it passed off directly.
"Shall I light the candle?" he said after a pause.
"Yes, just for one look round," I said. "Perhaps we can find a wayout."
The candle was lit, and I started as I saw how much the sand had creptin during the time that we had been asleep. It had regularly flowed inlike water, and as we held the candle down there was one place where ittrickled down a slope, just as you see it in an egg-boiler or anold-fashioned hour-glass.
We looked all round; went to the spot where the hole ended in what wasquite hard sandy rock. Then we looked up at the top, where we coulddimly make out the crack or rift through which the smoke had gone, butthere was no daylight to be seen through it, though of course itcommunicated with the outer air.
Then we had a look at the part where we had come in, but there the sandwas loose, and we had learned by bitter experience that to touch it wasonly to bring down more.
"I say," said Shock, as we extinguished the scrap of candle left, partof which had run down on Shock's hand; "we're shut up."
"Shut up!" I said indignantly; "have you just found that out?"
"Well, don't hit a fellow," he cried. "I say, have a bit?"
"Bit of what?" I cried, as I realised how hungry I had grown.
"Taller," he said. "Some on it run down. There ain't much; two orthree little nobbles. I'll give yer a fair whack."
"Why, you don't mean to eat that, you nasty fellow," I cried.
"Don't!" he said; "but I do. Here's your half. I've eat worse thingsthan that."
"Why, Shock," I cried, as a flash of hope ran through me, "I forgot."
"Forgot what?" he cried. "Way out?"
"No," I said gloomily; "but my sandwiches--bread and meat Mrs Solomoncut for me."
"Bread and meat!" he shouted. "Where is it?"
"In my jacket. I hung it on a stone in the side somewhere here. Lighta match."
_Crick--crick--crack_ went the match; then there was a flash, and thesputtering bubbling blue flame of the sulphur, for matches were madedifferently in those days, when paraffin had not been dreamed of forsoaking the wood.
Then the light burned up clearly, and Shock held the splint above hishead, and we looked round.
"There ain't no jacket here," said Shock dolefully. "What did yer saybread and meat for?" he continued, as the match burned out and he threwit down. "It's made me feel so hungry. I could eat a bit o' you."
"I can't understand it, Shock," I said.
"I wish I'd got some snails or some frogs," he muttered. "I could eat'em raw."
"Don't," I said with a shudder.
"I knowed a chap once who eat two live frogs. Put 'em on his tongue--little uns, you know--and swallowed 'em down. He said he could feel 'emhopping about inside him after. Wasn't he a brute?"
"Don't talk to me," I cried, as I went feeling about the wall, with myhead in a state of confusion. "I know I had the jacket in here."
"Have you got it on?" he said.
"No--no--no! I hung it on a bit of sharp stone that stuck out of thewall somewhere, and I can't feel the place. It's so puzzling being inthe dark. I don't know which is front and which is back now."
"Front's where the soft sand is," said Shock.
"Of course," I cried, feeling half stupefied all the time. "Then thisis the front here. I hung it on the stone and it was just above myhead."
I walked about on the soft sand, feeling about above my head, and allover the face of the cave side for a long time in vain; and then with myhead swimming I sank down in despair, and leaned heavily back, to uttera cry of pain.
"What's matter?" cried Shock, coming to me.
"I've struck the back of my head against a sharp stone," I cried,turning round to feel for the projecting piece.
"Why, it's here, Shock. This is the piece I hung my jacket on, but ithas sunk down. No, no," I cried; "I forgot; it is the bottom of thehole that has filled up. The sand has come up all this way. Keepback."
I had turned on my hands and knees and was tearing out the sand justbelow the projecting piece of sand-rock.
"What yer doing?" cried Shock. "You'll make more come down and cover usup."
"My jacket is buried down here," I cried, and I worked away feelingcertain that I should find it, and at last, in spite of the sand comingdown almost as fast as I tore it out, I scratched and scraped away till,to my great delight, I got hold of a part of the jacket and dragged itout.
"Hurrah!" I cried. "I've got it."
"And the bread and meat?" cried Shock. "Oh, give us a bit; I am sobad."
"No," I said despairingly.
"What! yer won't give me a bit?" he cried fiercely.
"It isn't here,"
I said. "It was in my pocket, but it's gone. Stop!"I cried; "it was a big packet and it must have come out."
I plunged my arms into the soft sand again, and worked away for long,though I was ready to give up again and again, and my fingers weregetting painfully sore, but I worked on, and at last, to my greatdelight, as I dug down something slipped slowly down on to the back ofmy hands--I had dug down past it, and the sand had brought it out of theside down to me.
"Here it is!" I cried, standing up and shaking the sand away from thepaper as I tore it open.
Shock uttered a cry like a hungry dog as he heard the paper rustle, andthen I divided the sandwiches in two parts and wrapped one back in thepaper.
"What yer doin'?" cried Shock.
"Saving half for next time," I said. "We mustn't eat all now."
Shock growled, but I paid no heed, and gave him half of what I had in myhands, and then putting the parcel with the rest right at the end wherethe sand did not fall, I sat down and we ate our gritty but welcomemeal.
We tried round the place again and again, using up the candle till thewick fell over and dropped in the sand; and then first one match andthen another was burned till we were compelled to give up all hope ofescaping by our own efforts.
Refreshed and strengthened by the food, Shock expressed himself readyfor a new trial at digging his way out.
"I can do it," he said. "I'll soon get through."
Soon after he was clinging to me, hot, panting, and trembling in everylimb, after narrowly escaping suffocation, and when I wanted to take upthe task where he had left off, he clung to me more tightly and wouldnot let me go from his side.
"Yer can't do it," he said hoarsely. "Sand comes down and smothers yer.Faster yer works, faster it comes. Let Ike bring the shovels."
There was no other chance. I felt that, and sat down beside Shock andtalked and tried to cheer him up; and when I broke down he roused up andtried to cheer me. Then I talked to him about stories I had read, wherepeople had been buried alive, and where they were always dug out atlast, and when I was weary he took his turn, showing me that in hisrough way he could talk quickly and in an interesting way about catchingbirds and rats. How at times he had caught rats with his hands, and hadbeen bitten by them.
"But," he added, with a laugh, "I served 'em out for it--I bit themafter I'd skinned and cooked 'em."
"How horrible!" I said.
"Horrible! Why? They'd lived on our fruit and corn till they were fatas fat, I like rat."
Then we grew tired, and as soon as we ceased talking a curious sensationof fear came over us. I say us, for more than once I knew that Shockfelt it, by his whispering to me in an awe-stricken tone:
"I never know'd as being in the dark was like this before. It's darkerlike, much darker, you know than being in one of the lofts under thestraw."
Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden Page 29
