He climbed to the roof, while Ed stepped on to the ramp, and loosed the moorings.
'O.K.?'
'O.K.'
Ed gave a mighty heave, and scrambled aboard.
The Sun Bird slid out upon the cavern lake. Towards the middle she swung a little in the gentle current. She turned, drifting slowly towards, the black hole in the wall. The beam of the searchlight sprang ahead. The sides of the passage closed upon her. The blue-white lamps of the cavern fell behind.
CHAPTER VIII
'Light ahead.' Smith's voice came echoing back to the rest.
Almost too good to be true. So many hours of climbing through natural tunnels, narrow clefts, booming caves, and up all but impossible 'chimneys' had wearied them almost to hopelessness. Had it not been for the dogged-ness of the two Americans they would have given up long ago, and stayed to die in some corner of the labyrinth. It was chiefly Ed's amazing strength which had brought them so far, for it was he who, by bracing back against one side, and hands and feet against the other, had managed to scale the perpendicular 'chimneys', and throw down a rope to the rest.
How long it was since they had left the Sun Bird rocking on the underground river, and started the climb, none of them knew. Two or three days, perhaps, but it had seemed a short lifetime. There had been disappointments, dead-ends, retracing of steps and fresh starts. They had been confronted with cracks too narrow for passage, walls too smooth to be climbed, caves from which the only outlet was a split in the roof. Margaret, still weak at the start, had soon become exhausted. Mark had helped her until his strength gave out and Ed came to the rescue. The calm patience of the two Americans amazed them. Again and again they turned back from dead-ends without bitterness or the futility of anger, and sought another route. If they felt any despondency, not a trace of it was allowed to show, and their confidence buoyed up the rest.
Except when Ed performed his prodigies of climbing, Smith was in the lead. The Sun Bird's searchlight was hung against his chest, and a battery mounted on his back; next came Ed, carrying Margaret, then Gordon, adding to the illumination with his globe, while Mark, with another lamp and a smaller battery, brought up the rear. Each had started with a pack of food in the form of mushroom slabs, but these had now dwindled to a quarter of their original size, and what remained was dry and leathery.
Smith's call put fresh life into them all. Mark forgot that his feet, on which the boots were coming to pieces, were, swollen with great blisters, and hurried on till he was close behind Gordon.
'Daylight?' he called.
'Sure, sunlight,' shouted Smith.
They emerged from a crevice on to a narrow ledge. The sun was about to set behind a line of rugged mountains. It was some time before anyone spoke.
'Gees,' said Ed, at last, as he lowered Margaret, 'ain't that just glorious? There ain't no sweller sight in the whole of God's world—an' I reckoned I wasn't never gonna see it no more. Yeh, we've sure been missing some-thin' down there.'
Mark crossed to Margaret. He put his arm round her.
'You mustn't cry, darling. It's all over now.'
'I know,' she managed. 'That's why I'm crying. It's so lovely and I'm so glad. Oh, Mark____' She lifted her bandaged hands and put her arms about his neck.
Gordon laid his light globe down carefully and turned to observe the sunset with the air of one witnessing an interesting, and slightly unusual phenomenon.
'Well, what do we do now?' he asked in a practical tone as the last arc sank from view.
'Sleep,' Smith told him promptly.
'You've said it,' Ed agreed.
'What we got to do is get goin' as soon as maybe,' Smith observed through a mouthful of shrivelled and unappetising mushroom. 'There ain't no tellin' when the next break'll come, nor how big it's goin' to be. If we aim to get the rest out, we've got to move right now. Here's my idea.' He turned to Gordon. 'You speak a bit of Arabic, don't you?' Gordon nodded. 'Well, you and Mark get along to the nearest village, find out where we are, and get hold of something to ride—don't matter what, camels, horses, mules—and get some of those Arab duds, burnouses, or whatever they call 'em, for Ed an' me. We three wait here for you, and then we all cut off together for civilisation. How's that?'
Gordon demurred.
'Why don't you go? You're both about twice our size, and size tells with Arabs.'
'Two good reasons. One is that we only know about two words of the lingo, but you know it well, and Mark's got money which is a good substitute for lingo any place. And the other is these duds.' He indicated the shreds of his uniform. 'We'd run into a goumier like as not, and that'd be that.'
'What's a goumier?' Margaret asked.
'Kinda native cop they run to in these parts. He gets twenty-five francs if he brings in a Legion deserter, dead or alive—and a dead man's less trouble.'
'But you aren't deserters.'
'No, but who's goin' to believe that till they know about the pygmies? It's no fun bein' found innocent if you've been bumped off first. What's more, it seems to me we're goin' to save a hell of a lot of trouble and argument if we desert right now. What say?' He looked question-ingly at Ed.
'Suits me.'
'And after that?' Mark asked.
'We make for some place where we can get white man's pants. Then, when we're all swell and classy, we spill the beans about the pygmies—and, believe me, we'll have to do a mighty lot of persuading.'
'But we've got proof,' Gordon pointed to his globe.
'An' we'll need it. Well, what about my proposition? You guys willin'?'
'Yes,' Mark agreed, 'but where are we going to find a village?'
Smith looked down from the ledge into the rocky valley. He pointed to a small, muddy stream which meandered along the dusty bottom.
'See that? I'm willin' to bet it's someone's water supply. They like it that way round here. Just you follow downstream, and you'll find a village pretty soon.'
'Right you are. So long, and look after Margaret.'
'And look after the lamp,' added Gordon. 'Don't let that damned cat get anywhere near it.'
The three left on the ledge watched them climb down and turn to the north.
'They won't be in danger? You're sure?' Margaret asked Ed.
'Betcha life,' he replied with an assurance which sounded more nearly absolute than he expected.
A week later a party which had come into Algiers the previous day by the line from Jelfa, sat round a cafe table. They attracted a certain amount of unwelcome interest by their curious appearance. For one thing, they were accompanied by a desert cat of unattractive, even repulsive, aspect; for another, the girl's hands were heavily wrapped in bandages, but most remarkable was the complexion of one of her three male companions. The forehead and the upper part of his face was badly sunburned to a vivid, angry red, while the rest was of a startling white, as though a beard might recently have been removed. He addressed the other two, who wore beards neatly trimmed and pointed.
'I wish to Heaven I'd had the sense to keep on my beard. I feel like a circus clown.'
Margaret laughed.
'Never mind, dear, I like you better without it—and your face will soon even up.'
Smith knocked back his fourth brandy that morning with great appreciation.
'That's what I call a white man's drink.' He ordered another, and looked up the street.
'Where the hell's Gordon? You ought to be gettin' along.'
'He's gone to get a case for that precious globe of his— he said it might take him half an hour or so.'