|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 59
As she undid the bottle, Mrs. Portheris declared that she already felt
the preliminary ache of influenza. She exhorted us to copious draughts,
but it was much too nasty for more than a sip, though warming to a
degree.
"Better take very little at a time," Dicky suggested, but Mrs. Portheris
reaffirmed her faith in the virtues of eucalyptus, and with such majesty
as was compatible with the neck of the bottle, drank deeply. Then we
stumbled on. Presently Mrs. Portheris yawned widely twice, thrice, and
again. "I beg your pardon," said she, "I don't seem able to help it."
"It's the example of these gaping sepulchres," Dicky replied. "Don't
apologize."
The passages grew narrower and more complex, the tombs more irregular.
We came to one that partly blocked the path, tilted against the main
wall like a separate sarcophagus, though it was really part of the solid
rock. Looking back, a wall seemed to have risen behind us; it was a
distinctly perplexing moment, hard upon the nerves. The tomb was empty,
except for a few bones that might have been anything huddled at the
bottom, and Mrs. Portheris sat down on the lower end of it. "I really do
not feel able to go any further," she said; "the ascent is so
perpendicular."
I was going to protest that the place was as level as a street, but
Dicky forestalled me. "Eucalyptus," he said soothingly, "often has that
effect."
"We are lost," continued Mrs. Portheris lugubriously, "in the Catacombs.
We may as well make up our minds to it. We came here this morning at ten
o'clock, and I should think, I should think--thish mus' be minnight on
the following day."
"My watch has run down," said Dicky, "but you are probably quite right,
Mrs. Portheris."
"It is doubtful," Mrs. Portheris went on, pulling herself together,
"whether we are ever found. There are nine hundred miles of Catacombs.
Unless we become cannibals we are likely to die of starvation. If we do
become cannibals, Mr. Dod," she added, sternly endeavouring to look
Dicky in the eye, "I hope you will remember what ish due to ladies."
"I will offer myself up gladly," said he, and I could not help
reflecting upon the comfort of a third party with a sense of humour
under the circumstances.
"Thass right," said Mrs. Portheris, nodding approvingly, and much
oftener than was necessary. "Though there isn't much on you--you won't
go very far." Then after a moment of gloomy reflection she blew out her
candle, and, before I could prevent it, mine also. Dicky hastily put his
out of reach.
"Three candles at once," she said virtuously, "in a room of this size!
It is wicked extravagance, neither more nor less."
I assure you you would have laughed, even in the Catacombs, and Dicky
and I mutually approached the borders of hysteria in our misplaced
mirth. Mrs. Portheris smiled in unison somewhat foolishly, and we saw
that slumber was overtaking her. Gradually and unconsciously she slipped
down and back, and presently rested comfortably in the sepulchre of her
selection, sound asleep.
"She is right in it," said Dicky, holding up his candle. "She's a lulu,"
he added disgustedly, "with her eucalyptus."
This was disrespectful, but consider the annoyance of losing a third of
our forces against seven million Early Christian ghosts. We sat down,
Dicky and I, with our backs against the tomb of Mrs. Portheris, and when
Dicky suggested that I might like him to hold my hand for a little while
I made no objection whatever. We decided that the immediate prospect,
though uncomfortable, was not alarming, that we had been wandering about
for possibly an hour, judging by the dwindling of Dicky's candle, and
that search must be made for us as soon as ever the others went above
ground and heard from Brother Demetrius the tale of our abandonment. I
said that if I knew anything about momma's capacity for underground
walking, the other party would have gone up long ago, and that search
for us was, therefore, in all likelihood, proceeding now, though perhaps
it would be wiser, in case we might want them, to burn only one candle
at a time. We had only to listen intently and we would hear the voices
of the searchers. We did listen, but all that we heard was a faint far
distant moan, which Dicky tried to make me believe was the wind in a
ventilating shaft. We could also hear a prolonged thumping very close to
us, but that we could each account for personally. And nothing more.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|