It was barely six inches wide,
but I could sidle along it in comfort. The grass was extremely thick here,
and where the path was ill defined it was necessary to crush into the
tussocks either with both hands before the face, or to back into it,
leaving both hands free to manage the rifle. None the less it was a path,
and valuable because it might lead to a place.
At the end of nearly fifty yards of fair way, just when I was preparing
to back into an unusually stiff tussock, I missed Mr. Wardle, who for his
girth is an unusually frivolous dog and never keeps to heel. I called him
three times and said aloud, ‘Where has the little beast gone to?’ Then I
stepped backwards several paces, for almost under my feet a deep voice
repeated, ‘Where has the little beast gone?’ To appreciate an unseen voice
thoroughly you should hear it when you are lost in stifling jungle-grass.
I called Mr. Wardle again and the underground echo assisted me. At that I
ceased calling and listened very attentively, because I thought I heard a
man laughing in a peculiarly offensive manner. The heat made me sweat, but
the laughter made me shake. There is no earthly need for laughter in high
grass. It is indecent, as well as impolite. The chuckling stopped, and I
took courage and continued to call till I thought that I had located the
echo somewhere behind and below the tussock into which I was preparing to
back just before I lost Mr. Wardle. I drove my rifle up to the triggers,
between the grass-stems in a downward and forward direction. Then I
waggled it to and fro, but it did not seem to touch ground on the far side
of the tussock as it should have done. Every time that I grunted with the
exertion of driving a heavy rifle through thick grass, the grunt was
faithfully repeated from below, and when I stopped to wipe my face the
sound of low laughter was distinct beyond doubting.
I went into the tussock, face first, an inch at a time, my mouth open
and my eyes fine, full, and prominent. When I had overcome the resistance
of the grass I found that I was looking straight across a black gap in the
ground—that I was actually lying on my chest leaning over the mouth of a
well so deep I could scarcely see the water in it.
There were things in the water,—black things,—and the water was as
black as pitch with blue scum atop. The laughing sound came from the noise
of a little spring, spouting half-way down one side of the well. Sometimes
as the black things circled round, the trickle from the spring fell upon
their tightly-stretched skins, and then the laughter changed into a
sputter of mirth. One thing turned over on its back, as I watched, and
drifted round and round the circle of the mossy brickwork with a hand and
half an arm held clear of the water in a stiff and horrible flourish, as
though it were a very wearied guide paid to exhibit the beauties of the
place.
I did not spend more than half-an-hour in creeping round that well and
finding the path on the other side. The remainder of the journey I
accomplished by feeling every foot of ground in front of me, and crawling
like a snail through every tussock. I carried Mr. Wardle in my arms and he
licked my nose. He was not frightened in the least, nor was I, but we
wished to reach open ground in order to enjoy the view. My knees were
loose, and the apple in my throat refused to slide up and down. The path
on the far side of the well was a very good one, though boxed in on all
sides by grass, and it led me in time to a priest’s hut in the centre of a
little clearing. When that priest saw my very white face coming through
the grass he howled with terror and embraced my boots; but when I reached
the bedstead set outside his door I sat down quickly and Mr. Wardle
mounted guard over me. I was not in a condition to take care of
myself.
When I awoke I told the priest to lead me into the open, out of the
Arti-goth patch, and to walk slowly in front of me. Mr. Wardle hates
natives, and the priest was more afraid of Mr.
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