Читать книгу Under Foch's Command: A Tale of the Americans in France - F. S. Brereton - Страница 5

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There was dense opaqueness within the bosom of the gigantic mountain which the industry of man in Utah has honeycombed with passages, and once the search-party, with Jim at the head, had gained some distance from the exit and had turned abruptly to their left, thereby cutting themselves off, as it were, from the few stray rays of daylight which filtered in through the arched entrance, the darkness seemed to become accentuated, while the silence was positively startling.

"Stop!"

Jim touched the Sheriff on the sleeve, and the latter signalled to the next man behind him, and so they all came to a halt. There they stood listening for three or four minutes.

"Pat-a-pat! pat-a-pat!" they heard, and then a deep splash. "Pat-a-pat! pat-a-pat!" once more, and then a bubbling sound, only to give way to that same refrain: "Pat-a-pat! pat-a-pat!"

"It's——!" gasped the Sheriff, for he was an open-air man, a farmer in the neighbourhood, and these inner workings rather tended to overawe him. "What is it?" he whispered.

"Water falling from the roof into a pool; there's lots of it," Jim told him, sotto voce. "Come along!"

Once more they were threading their way onward, each man with his left hand outstretched, feeling the damp, roughly-hewn side of the tunnel, while with his other hand he held the tail of the coat of the comrade in front of him. As for Jim, he gripped the electric torch in his right hand, ready at any moment to switch the light on and project the beams in any direction. A hundred, two hundred yards they gained, five hundred yards, without having heard a single sound to disturb them, save occasionally that pat-a-pat, the often tuneful dripping of water from the roof into some rocky pool beneath, water through which their feet splashed when they came to it. Then of a sudden a rumbling roar smote upon their ears, advanced swiftly towards them, met them, as it were, and then, racing past their ears, went on along the dark gallery, and so towards the open, bringing the party to a halt.

"A shot," Jim whispered. "That fellow's fired his gun somewhere on beyond us, and a goodish way, I'd say, for the gallery carries sound like a speaking-tube, and you can hear a man shout, for instance, more than a quarter of a mile away. Let's move forward faster."

"Get in at it," the Sheriff answered.

And then they were moving again, on through the darkness, stumbling over rough tram-lines, through pools of water, over fallen boulders, round acute corners, and so on and on, while behind them first one and then others of the party they had left at the entrance crept in, forming that communicating chain which the Sheriff had so thoughtfully ordered.

"H—hush!" The Sheriff's bony fingers gripped Jim's arm, and, unmindful of the fact that darkness surrounded them, he stretched forth his other hand and pointed into the void in front. "The varmint's there," he whispered hoarsely. "I heard him move. Listen!"

Yes, something or someone was moving. Whether in the near distance or far it was impossible to state definitely, though every member of the search-party stretched his ears to the fullest extent and listened eagerly, head forward, horny palm making a funnel in the endeavour to catch more sound waves, and so to unfathom what was then a mystery.

"Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat!" went those lugubrious drops into the pools of water underfoot, "pit-a-pat!" they tumbled from the arched roof of the gallery on to the persons of that listening search-party, while water streamed down the rough-hewn sides and dribbled over the fingers which they had placed there to guide them.

Yes, someone moved.

"Farther along," Jim hardly whispered, tugging at the Sheriff's coat. "Let Larry come along!"

The giant form of the Sheriff unbent a little when he turned, stretched out a hand and gripped that youth by the shoulder.

"I heard," came a whisper. "I've got me gun, and all's well. You get in, Jim, I'm following."

The party they left heard them stumbling along, their feet making mysterious sounds as they splashed along the floor of the tunnel, and then of a sudden the blackness in front of them was illuminated by one piercing beam which cut its way through the darkness, its edges brilliant, its centre blurred. That beam hit upon the dripping side of the tunnel some yards ahead, painted a brilliant circle on it, hovered to one side, then flicked back, and later showed in its very centre the figure of a man bent almost double crouching beside the wall, a metal object on one knee gripped by one hand, an object which reflected the beam brightly.

"It's——" shouted the Sheriff, and then a sharp crack from a revolver drowned his voice and stunned the ears of all present. They saw the flash of the weapon, and a moment later watched as the crouching figure darted along the side of the tunnel, and swept round a corner, while a second shot, a second reverberation, wakened the echoes, and a bullet flicked a piece out of the edge of rock round which that crouching figure had doubled.

"Come on," shouted Jim, while Larry beat himself on the breast, vexed that he should have missed such a shot.

"It's the light," he cried angrily, "it put me out; I wasn't expecting it. Seems to me I'd better have a torch, too. Here! hand one over, Jim, then I shall know when to put it on and be ready."

For five minutes or more they struggled on, running at times, and then halting to listen. Finally Larry clapped a wet and perspiring hand on Jim's shoulder.

"Gee!" he said; "it ain't no good, this here runnin' up and down like rabbits. Every time we moves the fellow hears us. This party's too big. Let's divide, or, better still, supposin' we post sentries who will block the tunnel. You see the skunk we're after is mebbe bolting round and round in a circle."

"That's true," Jim assured him. "There are burrows leading in all directions here, and it's not at all difficult to miss anyone."

"Particularly if you're anxious to avoid a meeting, same as this white-livered German," grunted the Sheriff, who was panting after his exertions.

"And you've got to remember," said Larry, "that every time we moves he hears us. Listen! There, didn't I say so? That's the varmint we're after, and mebbe he's two or three hundred yards away, yet you can hear his feet splash in a pool of water."

There echoed along the wet walls of the gallery the sound of a distant splash, and then there was silence for a few moments, broken again by the clatter of someone's heel against a piece of rock.

"Same as he hears us," growled the Sheriff. "Larry's right, and we've got to break up this party. Well then——?"

He plucked at Jim's shoulder, and the latter at once responded.

"Larry and Dan and I will go on," he said abruptly. "You, Mr. Sheriff, and the others had best divide into two—half here and half farther back. That may trap the fellow we're after. Meanwhile we three who are going on can crawl very carefully and slowly beside the wall of the gallery and halt after a while. If we hear our man we will try and get nearer, but our main object will be to get him to move nearer to us, then we'll have our lights on him in a moment."

"Not forgettin' guns," laughed Larry, "not forgettin' this here, this shooter! It's just horse sense that, Mr. Sheriff. Jim's been long enough in the mine to know his way about, and he's listened hours and hours, same as me, and knows what it is to hear a man a-comin'. When he sits down and listens to you movin' along to him, and it's a case of shootin' between two people, it's the man who sits tight and does the listening has all the chances. Shucks! Jim's given us an idea what's worth followin'."

It took but very little time to make their preparations, when Jim and Dan and Larry again crept away, this time at a much slower pace, halting when they had proceeded some two hundred yards. Here they were at a point where a smaller gallery left the main one, and ensconcing themselves at the entrance they lay down and listened.

"Seems to me as the skunk's got right away," said Larry, his patience nearly exhausted when they had lain there nearly half an hour and not a sound had reached their ears, save those made by their distant friends who were patrolling the main gallery, "suppose——"

Dan gripped him by the shoulder.

"H—h—ush!" he whispered.

Jim pushed his torch forward and made ready.

"Aye!" grunted Larry, and then there was a faint click as he prepared his revolver.

"Wait!" Someone was coming toward them. A sound of stealthy footsteps reached their ears, though whether coming from the left or the right was at that moment uncertain. Peering in both directions, the three lay there with bated breath, endeavouring to remain cool and yet almost trembling with suppressed excitement. Then, of a sudden, the sound of a splash only a few yards away arrested their attention, and caused them to start to their knees. An instant later their two torches cast beams into the gallery, and centred themselves with a flash upon an individual creeping along some twenty yards from them. It was the German without a doubt, hatless, dishevelled, sopping wet, and bearing a haunted, hunted expression. He blinked as the light fell full in his face, and then snatched at a weapon which he held concealed in a pocket. At the same moment Larry's pistol spoke, and with a howl the man dropped his left arm helpless beside him. But a moment later a flame flashed from beneath his coat, and one of the three fell with a dull thud on to the wet ground which floored the tunnel, his fall pushing Larry aside and upsetting his aim so that his second bullet went wide of the mark. A moment later the man was gone, and could be heard scuttling along into the distance.