One night, after dodging about and listening till he was nearly falling
asleep with weariness, he began to roll up his ball, for he had resolved
to go home to bed. It was not long, however, before he began to feel
bewildered. One after another he passed goblin-houses, caves that is,
occupied by goblin families, and at length was sure they were many more
than he had passed as he came. He had to use great caution to pass
unseen--they lay so close together. Could his string have led him wrong?
He still followed winding it, and still it led him into more thickly
populated quarters, until he became quite uneasy, and indeed
apprehensive; for although he was not afraid of the _cobs_, he was
afraid of not finding his way out. But what could he do? It was of no
use to sit down and wait for the morning--the morning made no difference
here. It was all dark, and always dark; and if his string failed him he
was helpless. He might even arrive within a yard of the mine, and never
know it. Seeing he could do nothing better, he would at least find where
the end of the string was, and if possible how it had come to play him
such a trick. He knew by the size of the ball that he was getting pretty
near the last of it, when he began to feel a tugging and pulling at it.
What could it mean? Turning a sharp corner, he thought he heard strange
sounds. These grew, as he went on, to a scuffling and growling and
squeaking; and the noise increased, until, turning a second sharp
corner, he found himself in the midst of it, and the same moment tumbled
over a wallowing mass, which he knew must be a knot of the cobs'
creatures. Before he could recover his feet, he had caught some great
scratches on his face, and several severe bites on his legs and arms.
But as he scrambled to get up, his hand fell upon his pickaxe, and
before the horrid beasts could do him any serious harm, he was laying
about with it right and left in the dark. The hideous cries which
followed gave him the satisfaction of knowing that he had punished some
of them pretty smartly for their rudeness, and by their scampering and
their retreating howls, he perceived that he had routed them. He stood a
little, weighing his battle-axe in his hand as if it had been the most
precious lump of metal--but indeed no lump of gold itself could have
been so precious at that time as that common tool--then untied the end
of the string from it, put the ball in his pocket, and still stood
thinking. It was clear that the cobs' creatures had found his axe, had
between them carried it off, and had so led him he knew not where. But
for all his thinking he could not tell what he ought to do, until
suddenly he became aware of a glimmer of light in the distance. Without
a moment's hesitation he set out for it, as fast as the unknown and
rugged way would permit. Yet again turning a corner, led by the dim
light, he spied something quite new in his experience of the underground
regions--a small irregular shape of something shining.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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