He turned his back and led the way into the left branch of the tunnel. Darwin sniffed, then followed. He was almost fat enough to block the tunnel completely, and had to walk very carefully. After a few steps he stopped again and looked closely at a part of the tunnel wall that had been shored up with rough timbers.
“Jacob, bring the light back for a moment, would you? This working has been used recently—new wood in some of the braces. And look at this.”
“Sheep wool, caught on the splintered wood here. It’s still dry. We’re on the correct path all right. Keep going.”
“Aye. But what now?”
Pole pointed the beam from the lantern ahead, to where the tunnel broadened into a domed chamber with a smooth floor. They walked forward together. At the other side of the chamber was a deep crevasse. Across it, leading to a dark opening on the other side, ran a bridge of rope guides and wooden planks, secured by heavy timbers buttressed between floor and ceiling. Pole shone his lantern across the gap, into the tunnel on the other side, but there was nothing to be seen there. They walked together to the edge.
“It looks sturdy enough. What do you think, Erasmus?”
“I think we have gone far enough. It would be foolhardy to risk a crossing. What lies below?”
Pole swung the lantern to throw the beam downward. The pit was steep sided. About eight feet below the brink lay black, silent water, its surface smooth and unrippled. To right and left, the drowned chasm continued as far as the lantern beam would carry. Pole swung the light back to the bridge, inspecting the timbers and supporting ropes.
“Seems solid to me. Why don’t I take a quick look at the other side, while you hold the lantern.”
Darwin did not reply at once. He was staring down into the crevasse, a puzzled frown on his heavy face.
“Jacob, cover the lantern for a moment. I think I can see something down there, like a faint shining.”
“Like gold?” The voice was hopeful. Pole shuttered the lantern and they stared in silence into the darkness. After a few moments, it became more visible to them. An eerie, blue-green glow lit the pit below, beginning about three feet below the lip and continuing to the water beneath. As their eyes adjusted, they began to see a faint pattern to the light.
“Jacob, it’s growing there. It must be a moss, or a fungus. Or am I going blind?”
“It’s a growth. But how can a living thing glow like that?”
“Some fungi shine in the dark, and so do some animals—glowworms, and fireflies. But I never heard of anything like this growth. It’s in regular lines—as though it had been set out purposely, to provide light at the bridge. Jacob, I must have a sample of that!”
In the excited tone of voice, Pole recognized echoes of his own feelings when he thought about hunting for treasure. Darwin knelt on the rocky floor, then laboriously lowered himself at full length by the side of the chasm.
“Here, let me do that, Erasmus. You’re not built for it.”
“No. I can get it. You know, this is the same glow that we saw on the creatures on Cross Fell.”
He reached over the edge. His groping fingers were ten inches short of the highest growth. Grunting with the effort, Darwin took hold of the loose end of a trailing rope from the bridge, and levered himself farther over the edge.
“Erasmus, don’t be a fool. Wait until we can come back here tomorrow, with the others.”
Darwin grunted again, this time in triumph. “Got it!”
The victory was short-lived. As he spoke the hemp of the rope, rotted by many years of damp, disintegrated in his grasp. His body, off balance, tilted over the edge. With a startled oath and a titanic splash, Darwin plunged headfirst into the dark water beneath.
“Erasmus!” Jacob Pole swung around and groped futilely in the darkness for several seconds. He at last located the shuttered lantern, opened it and swung its beam onto the surface of the pool. There was no sign of Darwin. Pole ripped off his greatcoat and shoes. He stepped to the edge, hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and jumped feet-first into the unknown depths of the black, silent pool.
“More than three hours now. They should have signalled.”
“Perhaps they did.” Richard Thaxton squinted out of the window at the dark hillside.
“No. The lantern has been steady. I’m worried, Richard. See, they set it exactly where the lights of the fiends disappeared into the Helm.” Anna shook her head unhappily. “It must be freezing up on Cross Fell tonight. I just can’t believe that they would sit there for three hours without moving or signalling, unless they were in trouble.”
“Nor can I.” Thaxton opened the window and stuck his head out. He stared at the bleak hillside. “It’s no good, Anna. Even when the moon was up I couldn’t see a thing up there except for the lantern—and I can only just see that when you tell me where to look. Let’s give it another half hour. If they don’t signal, I’ll go up after them.”
“Richard, be reasonable. Wait until dawn. You’ll have an accident yourself if you go up there in the dark—you know your eyes aren’t good enough to let you be surefooted, even by full moonlight.”
The freezing wind gusted in through the open window. Thaxton pulled it closed. “At dawn. I suppose you’re right. I’d best check the supplies now. I’ll take medicine and splints, but I hope to God we won’t be needing them.” He stood up. “I’ll tell two of the gardeners that we may have to make a rescue trip on the fell at first light. Now, love, you try and get some sleep. You’ve been glued to that window most of the night.”
“I will.” Anna Thaxton smiled at her husband as he left the room. But she did not move from her vigil by the window, nor did her eyes move from the single point of light high on the bleak slopes of Cross Fell.
The first shock was the cold of the water, enfolding and piercing his body like an iron maiden. Jacob Pole gasped as the air was driven from his lungs, and flinched at the thought of total immersion. Then he realized that he was still standing, head clear of the surface. The pool was less than five feet deep.
He moved around in the water, feeling with his stockinged feet until he touched a soft object on the bottom. Bracing himself, he filled his lungs and submerged to grope beneath the surface. The cold was frightful. It numbed his hands instantly, but he grasped awkwardly at Darwin’s arm and shoulder, and hoisted the body to the level of his own chest. Blinking water from his eyes, he turned the still form so that its head was clear of the surface. Then he stood there shuddering, filled with the awful conviction that he was supporting a corpse.
After a few seconds, Darwin began to cough and retch. Pole muttered a prayer of relief and hung on grimly until the spasms lessened.
“What happened?” Darwin’s voice was weak and uncertain.
“You fell in headfirst. You must have banged your head on the bottom.” Pole’s reply came through chattering teeth. His arms and hands had lost all feeling.
“I’m sorry, Jacob.” Darwin was racked by another spell of coughing. “I behaved like an absolute fool.” He roused himself. “Look, I can stand now. We’d better get out of here before we freeze.”
“Easier said than done. Look at the height of the edge. And I see no purchase on either side.”
“We’ll have to try it anyway. Climb on my shoulders and see if you can reach.”
Scrabbling with frozen hands on the smooth rock face, Pole clambered laboriously to Darwin’s shoulders, leaned against the side of the pit, and reached upwards. His straining fingertips were a foot short of the lip. He felt in vain for some hold on the rock. Finally he swore and slid back into the icy water.