I recalled
how they had puzzled me on that hot day, and how I had questioned Holman
concerning "Pilgrim's Progress" when he had roused me from my sleep.
"Well, if there's nothing here I'm going back to get a drink," said
Holman.
"Hold on!" I stammered, as I uncoiled the piece of spare rope from my
shoulders; "I want you a minute. There's a split in this rock, and I'm
going to explore it. Take the end of this rope and hang on."
"Hadn't I better go with you?" he asked.
"Not this trip," I answered. "I've just got a feeling that I'd like to
see where it leads to. Hold tight!"
I stepped cautiously into the narrow passage and immediately found that
it narrowed to such an extent that I had to turn sideways to squeeze
through. The floor sloped upward, and as the rock was damp and slippery,
I dropped upon my knees so that I could climb more rapidly. The place
seemed a narrow chute. My knees were skinned from the rough bottom, but
I scratched desperately to obtain a footing. Hope was still alive. The
Maori had said that the road to heaven was sixty paces from the White
Waterfall, and if an all-seeing Providence had guided Edith to the
waterfall, it was surely decreed that we would make our escape from the
clutches of the devil who had us at his mercy.
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