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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Poison Island"

"Ah, but wait, and I will show you wonders! No one
knows of it, not even Rosa."
She wriggled her way through the cleft. I peered in, and went after
her cautiously, expecting, as the curtain of creepers fell behind me,
to find myself in a dark cave or grotto. Dark it was, to be sure,
but not utterly dark; and to my amazement, as my eyes grew accustomed
to the gloom, the faint light came from ahead of me and seemed to
strike upwards from the bowels of the earth.
"Do not be afraid, little boy! But hold your head low; and look to
your feet now, for it is steep hereabouts."
Steep indeed it was. A kind of shaft, floored for the most part with
slippery earth, but here and there with an irregular stairway of
rock; and still at the lower end of the tunnel shone a faint light.
I would have given worlds by this time to retrace my steps. A slight
draught, blowing up the tunnel from my companion to me, bore the
odour of death upwards under my nostrils; but this, while it dizzied
and sickened me, seemed to clog my feet and take away all will to
escape. I had nearly swooned, indeed, when my feet encountered level
earth again, and she put out a hand to steady me.
"Is--is--this the end?"
"It goes down--down, little boy; but we need not follow it.


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