Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1892-11-17

between 1tS narrow banks. NOW We
came to an unusually low point and
found the water about our necks as we
stopped to pass along. was III the
lead, and though | set telling pace
Dud in his fright managed to keep up.
Those few hundred yards seemed in
Vulnerable miles, with the foods swell.
ing behind us and the ominous roar
overhead gathering volume Now and
then one of our candles would go out
and we were forced to stop and relight
it from the one that still burned, as our
matches were all wet and useless. Al
last | stood in the chamber next the
fatal barrier.
What moment of suspense, of dread
suffered while waiting for Dud to
come upI hastily scanned the walls OF
this the highest ceiling available, and
my heart sank as | saw the uninistak
able signs of overflow ON every side and
overhead. Dud soon joined me, mud
begrimed and painting. He looked the
iiend incarnate dragging himself forth
from his home of ooze and filth. But
did not laugh as my terrified gaze rested
ON his pale and troubled face, you may
be sure. | remember feeling q great
pity for him, however.
Tremblingly we advanced O few rods
and came upon the wall, but, 10, no exit
was visible! Now it was concealed by
a small pool with swift maelstrom that
swallowed, with evident gusto, those bits
OF wood and leaf which came near its
hungry gullet. Weak and overcome
with excitement, we sat down on little
knoll, and with the protruding eyes of
doomed men watched the steady up
crawling of the stream, so different from
the song whispering brook of an hour ago.
The awful silence was oppressive, while
the heavy darkness gathered OH every
side as il to extinguish our feeble lights
Both of our heads were hatless, and a
small stream of crimson trickled from
Dud's forehead-a wound that he had
received from a jutting rock or some
obstacle overhead.
The situation was terrifying.
l was almost certain that death was
inevitable, but singularly enough my
whole attention was centered on my
miserable companion. l gazed steadily
iiiiy NOHhtiiHB WHdu Ills
must be, and if all his past life was hur-
rying before him in review, as | had
often heard it said mems lives would do
when death seemed inevitable. Silently
and steadily like some great yellow SER
pent, the brook crawled into the mar
row chamber and coiled fold on fold.
We had already moved back to higher
ground once and now it was inching up
about our feet again. Our heads were
against the highest part of the rock
roof, so it would be better to keep our
places than to move back to more
trying position which would be no safer.
To my dying day shall never forget
the feelings that crept over me at the
water stole up along my body cold and
Shiny. 1t seemed that l was being grad
ually swallowed by some foul mon
ster. The submerged portions of my
body seemed severed from the trunk
while sure death enveloped me. A SEN
sation of insufferable closeness almost
cholied me, while the very helplessness
Of the situation added thousand terrors.
Dudley sat as one in "a profound stu
por, one hand grasping the two inches
of tallow yet left, his other scraping pit
eously along the rough wall, as though
seeking an exit for its petrifed owner
For my part l became strangely quiet
after u time, while sense of indiffer-
ence possessed me. A sort of resigna-
tion to the inevitable, suppose, for the
floods continued to press upward. Our
shoulders were now just above the
waters, while my hand grew so weary
Of holding the candle that it seemed as
if about to sink below the surface de-
spite my every effort.
Neither of us had spoken for some
time, when Dudley suddenly turned t.
me. 81 can't stand it any longer" he
said simply, "Tell them goodby at home
for me if you ever get out" and he rose
as If to launch himself forward. | saw
his object at once and reached out TO
grasp him. Hold on, Dud," said; 81
don't believe it is going to get any high.
en-" "lt doesn't make any difference"
he repeated. eve both can't live long
in this small space anyhow" and he
sank from view. felt him touch mr
as he rolled over, and clutched at his
escaped my grasp and succession of
bubbles told me that further effort was
useless-he was drowned. His candle
had of course gone with him, and |
questioned whether 1t would not be best
for me to extinguish my own, since it
was fast exhausting the oxygen that
was an absolute necessity to my life
But | cOulu not decide to snuff ont thnt
feeble light, ltwas almost like life itself
cannot describe 10 you my feelings
as l sat n hundred feet underground,
with only a breathing space of five or
six feet about my head, the water at my
chin and the cold form of my dead
at my feet. II seemed as if
this mental torture lasted for hours,
when 10, great joy seized me--the flood
had ceased 10 rise But its abatement
must be far swifter or would perish mis-
erably from mere exhaustion. In half |
an hour the water sank SO low that | |
TO get under tho rock, and |
with loudly beating heart saw once
more the bright, sweet light of day. 1t |
was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon. |
and found that tremendous rain hal
fallen, which accounted for the torrent
in the cave.
| hurried OF 10 the village as fast as |
my stiH limbs could carry me and told |
my story, A score Of men went back
with me and recovered the body of my
In that fearful race for life he had
,oxa1 NINA ot tha .n.f - IA. ,.....