Brownsmith's Boy Part 67

"Well, I am glad of that. I likes dorgs, and we was reg'lar good friends."

"Hark!" I said; "is that Ike digging?"

"No," he said; "it was some more sand tumbled down, I think."

I knew he was right, for there was a dull thud, and then another; but whether inside or outside I could not tell. It made me tremble though; for I wondered whether I should be able to struggle out if part of the roof came down upon my head.

All at once Shock began to whistle--not a tune, but something of an imitation of a blackbird; and as I was envying him his coolness in danger I heard a scratching noise and saw a line of light. Then there was another scratch and a series of little sparkles. Another scratch, and a blue flame as the brimstone on the end caught fire; and then, as the splint of wood burned up, I could see in the midst of a ring of light the face of Shock, looking very intent as he bent over the burning match, and held to it the wick of a little end of a common tallow candle.

"I allus carries a bit o' candle out of the lanthorns," he said, showing his teeth; and then he held up the light, and I could see that the opening to the cave was completely closed up, just as if the roof had all come down, and the cave we were in was not half the size it was at first, a slope of sand encroaching on the floor. I felt chilled, for I felt that it would be impossible to tunnel through that sand.

"Now, then," said Shock coolly, "that there's the way--ain't it? Well, we don't want no light to see to do that; so you put it out 'case we wants it agen, and put it in yer pocket. I'll go down on my knees and have first scratch, and when I'm tired you shall try, and we'll soon get through it. We won't wait for Ike."

I longed to keep the candle burning, but what Shock said seemed to be right; so I put it out, and as I did so I saw the boy begin to scratch away as hard as he could at the sand in the direction of the entrance, and then in the dark I could hear him panting away like some wild animal.

"I say," he cried at last.

"Yes," I said.

"It don't seem no good. More you pulls it away, more it comes down.

It's like dry water, and runs all through your hands."

"Let me have a try," I said.

"All right. You go where I did, and keep straight on."

Keep straight on! It was, as he said, like grasping at water; and the more I tore at it, in the hope of making a tunnel through, the more it came pouring down, till in utter despair I gave it up and told Shock it was no good.

"Never mind," he said. "It's dry and warm. I've been in worse places than this is, where you couldn't keep the rain out. Let's sit down and talk. I say I wish I'd got the rest o' my rabbud."

I didn't answer, for, hot, weary, and despairing at our position, I was lying down on the sand with my hands covering my face.

I don't know how long a time pa.s.sed, for I felt confused and strange; but I was aroused by Shock, who exclaimed suddenly:

"Here, I want to get out of this. Let's have another try at scratching a hole."

I heard him move, and then he struck a light again so as to see where to begin.

"Must know, you see," he said. "If I get scratching at the wrong side, it would take so long to get out."

In spite of my trouble I could not help feeling amused, there seemed to be something so droll in the idea of Shock burrowing his way right into the hill and expecting to get out; but the next moment I was listening to him and watching the tiny spark at the end of the burned match die out.

Rustle, rustle, rustle, he went on, and every now and then there was a loud panting such as some wild animal would make. Then I uttered a cry of fear, for I felt a quant.i.ty of sand strike me and I bounded aside, for it seemed that the top was coming down.

"What's matter?" cried Shock, stopping short.

"Nothing," I said as I realised the cause of my fright. "Some of the sand hit me."

"What! some as I chucked behind me?"

"Yes."

The scratching and tearing went on again, and I felt the sand scattered over me several times, but the fear did not attack me again.

All at once there was a soft rus.h.i.+ng noise, and Shock uttered a yell which seemed to make my heart leap.

"Shock!" I cried, "Shock!" but there was no answer, only a scuffling noise. "Shock! where are you?"

The scuffling noise continued, and their there was a loud panting, a cry of "Oh!" and my companion staggered by me.

"Shock!" I cried.

"Oh! I say," he groaned, "I've got it all in my eyes agen. A lot come down and buried me. I sha'n't do it no more."

He uttered a series of strange gasps and cries, shaking himself, spitting, and stamping on the ground.

"I swallowed lots o' sand, I think, and it come down on my back horrid.

You try now."

I hesitated, but felt that I must not be cowardly if I wished for us to escape; and so I asked him to light a match again.

He did so, and by its feeble light I saw where to work, and also that, the place seemed to be filling up with the sand, and that we had not half so much room as we had at first.

Then out went the light, and with a desperate haste I went down on my hands and knees and began to tear at and throw the sand behind me, filling up our prison more and more, but doing nothing towards our extrication, for as fast as I drew the sand away from the tunnel more came; and at last, just as I began to think that I was making a little progress, I heard a rustling, dribbling sound, some hard bits of adhesive sand fell upon my head, and I instinctively started back, as there was a rush that came over my knees, and I knew that if I had remained where I was, tunnelling, I should have been buried.

"What, did you get it?" cried Shock, laughing.

I was so startled that I did not answer.

"Oh! he's buried!" cried Shock in a wild tone; and he threw himself by me, and began to tear at the sand. "Mars Grant, Mars Grant," he cried excitedly. "Don't leave me here alone."

"I'm not there, Shock," I said. "I jumped back."

"Then what did yer go and pretend as you was buried in the sand for?"

cried the boy savagely.

I did not reply, and I heard him go as far from me as he could, muttering and growling to himself, and in spite of my position I could not help thinking of what a curious and different side I was seeing of Shock's character. I had always found him so quiet and reserved, and yet it was evident that he could talk and think like the best of us, and somehow it seemed as if in spite of the way in which he turned away he had a sort of liking for me.

This idea influenced me so that I felt a kind of pity for my companion in misfortune. That was a good deal in the direction of liking him in return. I felt sorry that I had frightened him, and at last after a good deal of thinking I said to him:

"Shock!"

"Hullo!"

"I'm sorry I made you think I was buried."

"Are yer?"