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<h3>Chapter Forty Three.</h3> <h4>A Welcome Word.</h4> Chris’s lips parted for a cry to escape, but his teeth remained fast set, and there was not a sound for the moment. He was conscious of dropping rapidly down without the slightest change in his position, and then there was a dull heavy shock, when the apparently solid piece of ledge, after being exposed to the atmosphere for ages, crumbled into dust and went on downward with a curious whispering rush along a steep slope instead of over a perpendicular wall. Choking with the dust which arose, rolled over and over and half blinded, Chris was stunned by the confusion of the rush, for how long he could not tell, and then there was a sudden stoppage, and he lay half buried in the débris of the little earthen avalanche. For a few moments the lad was too much stunned to attempt to move, and lay motionless, trying to pierce the thick dust which closed him in. Then the horror and dread of his position came upon him with terrible force, and he began to struggle violently, increasing the dust, but getting first one arm and then the other free. Then matters grew more easy; he dragged himself sidewise, and shovelfuls of the débris dropped from his hips, while he could feel that his legs were looser. Then another desperate struggle, and he was on the outside of the sloping heap, but only to set the surface in motion again and roll and glide down and down and over and over once more, till he was brought up short in the narrowest part of a wedge-shaped mountain cleft, to begin struggling again, trampling as if rapidly ascending stairs, to avoid being buried by the gliding rubbish still in motion and filling up the bottom of the rift. The dust was still forming a cloud, but it was floating away, leaving the bare sides of the cleft clear enough for him to see far above him where the ledge ran horizontally along the side of the huge wall; and the change in colour showed him where what seemed to be quite a small portion had dropped away. Chris’s next effort was to feel himself over and move his limbs, which felt sore, and ached; but he soon found that he was not hurt, and began to try and realise his position. As far as he could make out he was in a rift of the valley; walls almost completely shut him in on three sides and nearly so on the fourth, but here there was light—bright light—coming through a lightning-shaped, enormous crack which zigzagged downward from a great height, and whose depth below he could not trace. The position would have been enough to confuse a man at any time, but now after the fall it was tenfold more puzzling than it would have been to one trying to ascend the rock-face. But Chris soon came to the determination that the open valley must be out beyond the zigzag rift, and shaking himself clear of the rubbish which adhered to his garments, he felt that his weapons were all right, and then began to make his way over the fallen stones and earth to the great crack. “I must be a long way down the cliff,” thought the lad; “but it’s wonderful that I’m not hurt—more,” he added after a pause, for a feeling of stiffness and pain began to trouble him. With the pain the remembrance of the Indians began to come back from where it had been driven, and instinctively drawing round his rifle, he looked upward; but the edge of the cliff was not visible from where he stood, and there was no fierce-looking warrior upon any ledge drawing his bow to send an arrow whizzing through the air. But all the same Chris instinctively hastened his steps over the yielding débris, seeing as he did that once inside the zigzag rift he would be sheltered from any such danger as that. The next minute he had left the heaped-up earth and shale, to begin climbing over blocks of hard stone which filled up the bottom of the rift, finding the way difficult, even painful, with the light a very short distance in front, but with jagged masses hanging threateningly overhead and looking as if a touch would bring them thundering down. It was only fancy though, for they would be immovable until the water that the boy now heard trickling softly amongst the stones far beneath his feet had gone on doing its insidious mining perhaps for ages, for the zigzag rift was composed of massive stone. “Oh, if I could only get some of that water!” thought Chris, as he now heard the soft musical trickle which roused within him a parching feeling of thirst. But it was far out of reach save to some burrowing animal which might have felt no compunction about making its way down through the crevices of the fallen blocks over which Chris continued to stumble, till all at once he dragged himself through a narrow opening between the two sides of the rift, to find that he could look diagonally across the valley at the openings and terraces far away, but evidently those which would be the unexplored portions of the rock city, opposite the places they had examined. “Hurrah!” he cried, as the light seemed to flash into his spirit and give him strength, for a shot rang out from somewhere to his right. He knew it must come from there, for the echo came from beyond the opening on his left. Then there was another, and another, to awaken the echoes, followed by silence, during which he waited for a fresh signal. It came at last, but very faint and distant, and though he shouted several times over, there was no reply. “It’s of no use to wait,” muttered Chris; “they can’t hear, and if they did they couldn’t help me. I must help myself.” Feeling this strongly he climbed a little farther, to find that he was at the edge of the zigzag rift, which, as far as he could make out, clove the face of the cliff from a great height up to far below him; and to damp his spirits the fact was clearly before him that he could go no farther outward, for there was no fancy here—he was at the edge of a genuine precipice, and if there was any escape it must be by descending. He stepped back a little way and reached where the stones were piled-up roughly, partially filling up the rift, and by using care he was able to descend from block to block, with the water keeping up its musical tinkle far below. “Why, it must be making its way out into the valley,” he thought, “and if I can follow it I may be able to get out where it falls. “But we saw no falls,” he said, after a few minutes’ thought; “but then we never came quite to this end of the place, and only saw it from a distance. Let’s see; water keeps going down and down, and if I can keep on close by it it’s sure to lead one right into the valley, which looked as if it was completely closed at the upper end. “So it is,” Chris added, with a pitiful little laugh, “The Indians couldn’t get down—those who were shot did. And so did I; but only after two awful tumbles. Why, it must be a wonder that I am alive. But it killed my poor nag.” Chris did not talk to himself, but his brain was very active, and he wondered a good deal why it was, as he kept on threading his way over and under stones, with the water acting as guide—why it was that he heard no more calls. “It must be,” he thought, “that they are quite behind me, while I’m making my way across the end of the valley, so that I shall come out somewhere near the opposite side—if I ever do get out, for the place gets narrower and darker the farther I go.” Chris had good cause to complain, for from climbing over blocks of stone he had to begin creeping under and between pieces so closely set that there were times when he was ready to give up in despair, and at last the end of his journey seemed to have arrived. For he was brought up short at the mouth of a cavern-like place where the sound of trickling water grew louder and was accompanied by a peculiar whispering echo sounding horribly strange and mysterious, coming as it did out of black darkness. It took a strong effort to enter the place, but the lad had grown desperate. He was conscious that whatever difficulty there was to encounter he must face it, so bending down and feeling his way by the rough rocky wall, he stepped on very slowly and cautiously, for the flooring of the cavern-like place was of loose stones, beneath which he could hear the water running faster as if nearing its exit, and he knew that if he could not find the opening where the spring ran into the valley, he could come back, for the hidden stream would still be his guide. He had just comforted himself with this thought—a most welcome one where all was black—when it seemed to him that there was a dull suggestion of light not far ahead, and he took a few more cautious steps with his hands telling him startling news, for he found that the roof was rapidly getting lower, and a few yards farther he had to stoop. But it was lighter, and hence it was that a little farther on he did not hesitate to crawl, while before he had progressed many feet farther he had to drag himself over the rough stones, which vibrated now from the water flowing about their bases, and then as he dragged himself out into the full light of day it was into the rocky channel of a stream where the water, that must at some time have rushed out as a heavy fall, smoothing the stones on either side, was now invisible, descending as it did for about fifty feet into the valley amongst the rocks, and plunging, mole-like, deep down beneath the surface, as if shunning the light of day. “Hah!” sighed the lad, as he stood upright and breathed deeply of the soft pure air, for his difficulties seemed to be at an end, nothing remaining for him to do but lower himself down amongst the rocks from the rough ledge upon which he was perched, when his heart leaped at the sound of a familiar voice hailing him with a cheery “Ahoy!” <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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