At last, when we had only a few grenades left, they drew off and an awful silence descended. Scarsdale and I found ourselves dirty, smoke-grimed, perspiring and utterly weary in a slime-crusted arena marked only by the long tracks where we had dragged the trolley around behind us. Eyes narrowed to slits beneath the dark goggles we gazed achingly towards the burning whiteness which led to outer space; nothing moved in that vile phosphorescence and the only movements were our own; the only sound the faint scrape of our own footfall.
We retreated slowly, withdrawing two or three hundred yards down the corridor, into a mercifully more shadowed area where we crouched behind the trolley, and, on Scarsdale assuming the office of sentry, debated our position. There was little, or nothing we could now do; three of our companions had been killed — though as yet our tired minds could not comprehend the enormity of this loss. Our primary duty was now to ourselves and to the world. There was no further choice; Scarsdale, in his own mind, I am certain, had contemplated penetrating even the vastness of The Great White Space and had our way not been initially barred by the creatures he would have pushed on — with or without the rest of.us. That course was denied us and all that remained was to extricate ourselves without incurring any further danger, make our way back to civilisation and warn the world of what we had witnessed.
'We must gather our strength,' said Scarsdale. 'I will take the first watch while you get some rest.'
He was still the leader but even as I denied being tired the truth was that I was exhausted mentally and physically. Though his robust frame and phlegmatic exterior made it difficult to believe, I felt also that Scarsdale himself was very near to breaking point. Neither of us was in a fit state to walk more than a few hundred yards let alone be in a posture to beat off a further attack.
We had to have rest and the safest and most obvious course, in the comparatively secure part of the tunnel to which we had retreated was for each to sleep for an hour. Then we would be able to carry on in a relatively refreshed condition. Scarsdale had no sooner pressed his point than I felt a great heaviness on my eyelids. I laid my head upon my hands and slept.
Nineteen
When I awoke I had at first difficulty in remembering where I was. It seemed dark and almost impossible to see. My throat too was dry and dusty and I was conscious of an aching in all my limbs. I had not eaten for some time and was beginning to feel the faint stirrings of hunger. I had fallen sideways, I found, and was now lying with my head against the side wall of the tunnel. As soon as I was fully awake I at once became aware of the horror of the situation.
I struggled immediately into a sitting position, the breath rasping in my throat. I had somewhat foolishly left my goggles in situ and I now found, when I had removed them, that there were deep grooves cut into my forehead and the back of my neck. But of course I could see quite clearly in the faint light and my eyes first fell upon the trolley with its twisted axle, which had nevertheless served us so well.
I pulled myself slowly upright by its metal framework, shocked to discover how exhausted I was. There was a trembling in all my limbs and a momentary dizziness in front of my eyes, which I put down to the reaction to the events of the past few hours. I supported myself by one hand against the tunnel wall and as my vision cleared I became aware of the extreme quietness in this portion of the tunnel. At the same time I saw Scarsdale's revolver lying on the ground at the spot where I had last seen him.
The shock was as vivid as a douche of cold water in my face and I was suddenly awake, my raw nerves fretting afresh, a nameless fear tugging at the corners of my mind. I had imagined that Scarsdale had been sitting on the other side of the trolley, his back to it and facing down the tunnel towards the source of light and from which any danger must come. At first I was almost too concerned and worried to take the few steps necessary to confirm or dispel my fears.
It took a considerable effort of will to move. I had my revolver out now and holding it in front of me and with my other hand hooked over the rail of the trolley I edged round. I expected some horrific sight and relief flooded over me when I became aware that the space behind the trolley was filled with nothing more tangible than shadow. Professor Scarsdale was not there. But this fact, coupled with the unusual circumstance of the revolver lying on the ground, had assumed its true significance by this time. The realisation that all could not be well stung like acid and seemed to sear my nerves making me at once both wide awake and half-frantic with worry.
I was immediately drenched with varying emotions and ran back up the tunnel towards the strengthening light, calling for the Professor. Nothing answered except the hideous echoes of my own voice which seemed to reverberate along aching miles of tunnel towards the infinitely remote entrance to his abode of despair beneath the Black Mountains. My fear of the slug-creatures was momentarily submerged in my greater terror at being left entirely alone in this abomination.
I dare not dwell on the suppositions which this released, lest my sanity might totter and I ran up and down the passage for several minutes, quite demented. Then, coming to myself and pressing my trembling hands together I forced my shrieking nerves into calmness. I could only assume that some harm had befallen Scarsdale or he would have replied to my shouts; or, he might perhaps have decided to explore the farther regions of the Great White Space on his own, beyond earshot. Or, thirdly, he was already past all human aid. By this slow and laboured reasoning did I seek to calm my nerves. There was a fourth possibility; that he had gone back along the tunnel in the opposite direction but this I immediately discounted. It was against all our reasoning — unless something alien or unusual had appeared in that direction.
I put that from me. There remained the unmistakable, indeed inescapable, fact that I had to go back towards the Great White Space. Alive or dead Scarsdale had to be found. And there was only me left to either rescue Scarsdale from the same abominable fate which had overtaken our companions or, tragic thought, to vindicate his memory. When I had come to this conclusion I became calmer, stopped my pacing about and checked my revolver and ammunition; I seized a canvas bag and putting the remaining five grenades in it set off back up the tunnel.
I had walked only a few hundred yards when I became aware of a low, mutterd mumbling up ahead. The light was growing in intensity now or my courage might perhaps have failed me, so 1 merely gripped the bag more firmly and went on. I could not at first place the direction from which the sound was coming. At one moment it resembled the faint buzz of insects, such as one might hear on a hot summer day in happier circumstances, when hovering on the edge of sleep.
But the idea of insects in the connotation of these repellent underground caverns was abhorrent in the extreme and my resolution took a hard knock at the outset. The faint mumble seemed to recede and advance like waves of the sea as I went down the corridor of ever-strengthening light and I donned my goggles in order that they should be ready when the radiance became too strong for my naked eyes. The insidious murmur now resembled a human being whispering some obscene thought in one of the caves almost beyond earshot and that was even more unpleasant, if anything.