"There may be a chance, however, of winning through. Hold fast to your goat-skins; and if the hidden river isn't too hot, and if there's head-room, some of us may get through to daylight. Let us try to reassemble where we find the first practicable stopping-place. If the Jannati Shahr men are waiting for us, there, don't be taken alive. Remember! "Now, give me your hand, each one, and--down the shaft with you!" Simonds went first, boldly, without a quiver of fear. Silently and with set jaw, he shook hands with the Master, clutched a distended wine-bag in both arms, and quickly leaped. His body vanished, instantly, from sight. Steam and darkness swallowed it. Far below, a dull splash told of his disappearance. Lebon followed, after having given his torture-twisted hand to his beloved lieutenant, as well as to the Master. "Notre Père qui êtes aux cieux!" he stammered, as the pit received him. Then went Wallace, Ferrara, and Emilio. 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. Obviously his confused mind had not grasped the situation. "Well, sure, that's a pity, now." And he fell to gnawing that tawny mustache of his. "Come Major, you're next!" the Master bade him. "Take your wine-skin and jump!" Clarity of mind for a moment returned to Bohannan. Gallantly he shook hands with the Master, saluted "Captain Alden," and picked up his wine-sack. "It's a fine whirl we've had," he affirmed, with one of his old-time smiles, his teeth gleaming by the light of the silver lamp in the Master's hand. "No man could ask a better." I'd rather have seen what I've seen, and done what I've done, and now jump to Hell and gone, than be safe and sound this minute on Broadway. "Please overlook any little irregularities of conduct, sir My brain, you know, and--well, good-bye!"