Of these three, only the last
showed anything resembling the white feather. Emilio's face was waxen,
with staring eyes reflecting unspeakable horror, as he took the leap
into the River of Night. But he went mutely, with no outcry.
Bristol, sheathed in imperturbable British aplomb, remarked:
"Well, so long, boys! This is jolly beastly, eh? But we'll meet on
that beautiful shore!"
Then he, too, jumped into the black.
Leclair, inappropriately enough, leaped with a shout of: "Vive la
France!"
Now only Bohannan, "Captain Alden," and the Master were left.
"You're next, Major!" the Master ordered, pointing at
the inexorable black mouth of the pit, whence rose the thin,
wraith-spirals of vapor.
"I'm ready!" exclaimed the major. "Sure, what's better than a hot bath
after the heavy exercise we've been having?" His voice rose buoyantly
over the drumming roar of the mysterious, underground torrent. "Ready,
sir! But if you'll only give me one wee sup of good liquor, sir, I'll
die like an Irishman and a gentleman--of fortune!"
"No, liquor, Major," the Master answered, shaking his head. "Can't you
see for yourself all the wine-sacks are cut?"
"Cut, is it? Well, well, so they are!" The major blinked redly.
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