CHAPTER THREE
THE REMITTANCE MAN

After Windy Bill had finished his story we began to think it time
to turn in. Uncle Jim and Charley slid and slipped down the
chute-like passage leading from the cave and disappeared in the
direction of the overhang beneath which they had spread their
bed. After a moment we tore off long bundles of the nigger-head
blades, lit the resinous ends at our fire, and with these torches
started to make our way along the base of the cliff to the other
cave.

Once without the influence of the fire our impromptu links cast
an adequate light. The sheets of rain became suddenly visible as
they entered the circle of illumination. By careful scrutiny of
the footing I gained the entrance to our cave without mishap. I
looked back. Here and there irregularly gleamed and spluttered
my companions' torches. Across each slanted the rain. All else
was of inky blackness except where, between them and me, a faint
red reflection shone on the wet rocks. Then I turned inside.

Now, to judge from the crumbling powder of the footing, that
cave had been dry since Noah. In fact, its roof was nearly a
thousand feet thick. But since we had spread our blankets, the
persistent waters had soaked down and through. The thousand-foot
roof had a sprung a leak. Three separate and distinct streams of
water ran as from spigots. I lowered my torch. The canvas
tarpaulin shone with wet, and in its exact centre glimmered a