CHAPTER 12

The Giddy Bridge

I realized, as we stood in that blue cavern, that we were bound to be surrounded and killed. Cavor came to my side and laid his hand on my arm. He looked pale and terrified.

"We can't do anything," he said. "They don't understand. We must go where they want us to go."

He turned about and led the way in the direction that had been indicated for us.

I followed, feeling the chains about my wrists. My blood was boiling. At first they marched parallel with us, and at a respectful distance, but presently three others joined them, and then they drew nearer, until they were within arm's length again. The shorter, thicker Selenite led the way.

Presently we saw a sort of channel across the floor of the cavern, which ran along our path. It was full of that same cold blue light that flowed out of the great Machine. I walked close beside it; it was brightly shining, but it did not radiate any heat.

We came at last to a wide tunnel, in which we could hear the sound of our bare feet. Ever and again crystals in the walls of the tunnel glittered like gems, ever and again the tunnel expanded into a cavern, or gave off brandies that vanished into darkness.

We seemed to be marching down that tunnel for a long time. "Trickle, trickle," went the flowing light very softly. My mind settled down to the question of my chains. If I were to slip off one turn, would they notice it?

"Bedford," said Cavor, "it goes down. It keeps going down." His remark roused me from my thoughts.

"These may be Selenites of a lower class," he said. "They think we are merely strange animals. There may be others less stupid. This is the mere outer shell of their world. It must go down and down, cavern, passage, tunnel, down at last to the sea—hundreds of miles below."

His words made me think of the mile or so of rock and tunnel that might be over our heads already. It was like a weight dropping on my shoulders. "Away from the sun and air," I said. "Even a mine half a mile deep is stuffy."

"This is not, anyhow. It's probably ventilation. Up this tunnel, for example, there is quite a breeze. And what a world it must be. That pit and those machines—"

"And the goad," I said. "Don't forget the goad!"

"Even that goad—" he said.

"Well?"

"I was angry at the time, but perhaps it was necessary we should get on. They have different skins, and probably different nerves."

He went on to talk of the enormous and wonderful world into which we were being taken. His mind ran on machines and inventions, regardless of a thousand dangers that surrounded us. It wasn't that he intended to make any use of these things, he simply wanted to know them.

"After all," he said, "this is a tremendous occasion. It is the meeting of two worlds! What are we going to see? Think of what is below us here. Down below, on this scale, there will be everything. Do you notice how different they seem one from another? The story we shall take back!"

He went on to talk about the possibility of their knowing things he had never hoped to learn on earth. Much that he said I forgot, for my attention was drawn to the fact that the tunnel along which we had been marching was opening out wider and wider. We seemed, from the feeling of the air, to be going out into a huge space. Our little stream of light ran in a thinning thread and vanished far ahead. We were approaching a downward slope. When we came to the edge of the slope, we saw that the shining stream poured into a deep, misty gulf.

Something like a plank projected from the edge of the cliff and stretched out and faded and vanished altogether. There was warm air blowing up out of the gulf. For a moment Cavor and I stood as near the edge as we dared, peering into the misty blue gulf. And then our guide was pulling at my arm.

Then he left me, and walked to the end of the plank and stepped upon it, looking back. Then he turned about and went along it, walking as surely as though he was on firm earth. For a moment his form was distinct, then he vanished into the darkness.

The other Selenites stood ready to follow after us.

"What is that beyond there?" I asked.

"I can't see."

"We can't cross this at any price," said I.

"I could not go three steps on it," said Cavor, "even with my hands free. They can't know what it is to be giddy! I don't believe they see as we do. I've been watching them. I wonder if they know this is simply blackness for us. How can we make them understand?"

It was impossible to make them understand. Well, I wasn't going to walk the plank, anyhow. I slipped my wrist very quickly out of the coil of chain that was loose, and then began to twist my wrists in opposite directions. I was standing nearest to the bridge, and as I did this two of the Selenites seized me, and pulled me gently towards it.

I shook my head violently. "It's no use," I said; "you don't understand."

Another Selenite pulled me. I was forced to step forward.

"Look here!" I exclaimed to them. "It's all very well for you—"

I sprang round upon my heel. I burst out into curses. For one of the armed Selenites had stabbed me behind with a goad.

I turned on him. "Curse you!" I cried. "I've warned you of that. What on earth do you think I'm made of, to stick that into me? If you touch me again—"

By way of answer he pricked me again.

The sharp pain of this second stab seemed to set free some energy I had in reserve. Instantly the link of the wrist-chain broke. I was mad with fear and anger. I took no thought of consequences. I hit straight out at the face of the thing with the goad. The chain was twisted round my fist ... 

There came a surprise. My hand seemed to go right through him. He smashed like some sweet with liquid in it. I could not believe that any living thing could be so thin and weak.

The other Selenites and Cavor stood back from us two. I faced the group of the three goad-bearers. Instantly one threw his goad at me. It flew over my head. I leaped right at him with all my might. I threw him down to the ground, came down right upon him, and slipped upon his smashed body and fell.

I sat up, and on every hand the Selenites were vanishing into the darkness. I broke the chain that fastened my ankles, and sprang to my feet, with the chain in my hand. Then I turned back towards Cavor, who was still standing in the light of the stream busy with his wrists.

"Come on!" I cried.

"My hands!" he answered.

He came towards me, with his hands held out before him.

I seized his chains at once and began to unfasten them.

"Where are they?" he panted.

"Run away. They'll come back. They're throwing things! Which way shall we go?"

"By the light. To that tunnel."

His hands were now free. Then I freed his feet and gave him the chain. "Hit with that," I said, and without waiting for an answer, set off in big leaps along the path by which we had come. Cavor leaped behind me.

We ran in vast strides. I saw a Selenite running in front of me, and I heard him shriek as he ran out of my way Then in another vast stride the walls of rock had come into view on either hand, and in two more strides I was in the tunnel. I stopped and turned back. Cavor came into view, splashing into the stream of blue light, at every stride. We stood clutching each other. For a moment, at least, we had got rid of our captors and were alone.

We were both very much out of breath.

"You've spoilt it all!" panted Cavor.

"Nonsense," I cried. "It was that or death!"

"What are we to do?"

"Hide. Up one of these side caverns."

We strode on, and presently came to a side cavern. Cavor was in front.

"It's dark," he said.

"Your legs and feet will light us. You're wet with that luminous stuff."

We heard sounds advancing up the main tunnel, which suggested we were being pursued. We rushed into the unlit side cavern. After a time the noise became fainter and then it died away.

"Bedford," whispered Cavor; "there's a sort of light in front of us."

I looked, and at first could see nothing. Then I perceived his head and shoulders dimly outlined against a fainter darkness. This dim light was not blue, but pale grey or faint white, the daylight colour. Cavor noted this too. "Bedford," he whispered, "that light—is it possible—"

He did not dare to say the thing he hoped. Suddenly I knew by the sound of his feet that he was striding towards that dim light. I followed him with a beating heart.