He did so at last, but, poor man, he never came down again. The
neighbors found his goats browsing about the Moorish ruins, and his
hat and mantle lying near the mouth of the pit, but he was never
more heard of."
The little Sanchica listened with breathless attention to this
story. She was of a curious nature, and felt immediately a great
hankering to peep into this dangerous pit. Stealing away from her
companions she sought the distant ruins, and after groping for some
time among them came to a small hollow, or basin, near the brow of the
mountain, where it swept steeply down into the valley of the Darro. In
the centre of this basin yawned the mouth of the pit. Sanchica
ventured to the verge, and peeped in. All was as black as pitch, and
gave an idea of immeasurable depth. Her blood ran cold; she drew back,
then peeped in again, then would have run away, then took another
peep- the very horror of the thing was delightful to her. At length
she rolled a large stone, and pushed it over the brink. For some
time it fell in silence; then struck some rocky projection with a
violent crash, then rebounded from side to side, rumbling and
tumbling, with a noise like thunder, then made a final splash into
water, far, far below- and all was again silent.
The silence, however, did not long continue. It seemed as if
something had been awakened within this dreary abyss. A murmuring
sound gradually rose out of the pit like the hum and buzz of a
beehive.
Pages:
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398