"Yes,"cried my uncle,even more excited and delighted than myself;"Hans is quite right.Oh,the worthy,excellent man!We should never have thought of such an idea."And nobody else,I think,would have done so.Such a process,simple as it seemed,would most certainly not have entered our heads.Nothing could be more dangerous than to begin to work with pickaxes in that particular part of the globe.Supposing while he was at work a break-up were to take place,and supposing the torrent once having gained an inch were to take an ell,and come pouring bodily through the broken rock!
Not one of these dangers was chimerical.They were only too real.
But at that moment no fear of falling in of the roof,or even of inundation was capable of stopping us.Our thirst was so intense that to quench it we would have dug below the bed of old Ocean itself.
Hans went quietly to work-a work which neither my uncle nor I would have undertaken at any price.Our impatience was so great that if we had once begun with pickax and crowbar,the rock would soon have split into a hundred fragments.The guide,on the contrary,calm,ready,moderate,wore away the hard rock by little steady blows of his instrument,making no attempt at a larger hole than about six inches.As I stood,I heard,or I thought I heard,the roar of the torrent momentarily increasing in loudness,and at times I almost felt the pleasant sensation of water upon my parched lips.
At the end of what appeared an age,Hans had made a hole which enabled his crowbar to enter two feet into the solid rock.He had been at work exactly an hour.It appeared a dozen.I was getting wild with impatience.My uncle began to think of using more violent measures.I had the greatest difficulty in checking him.He had indeed just got hold of his crowbar when a loud and welcome hiss was heard.
Then a stream,or rather jet,of water burst through the wall and came out with such force as to hit the opposite side!
Hans,the guide,who was half upset by the shock,was scarcely able to keep down a cry of pain and grief.I understood his meaning when,plunging my hands into the sparkling jet,I myself gave a wild and frantic cry.The water was scalding hot!
"Boiling,"I cried,in bitter disappointment.
"Well,never mind,"said my uncle,"it will soon get cool."The tunnel began to be filled by clouds of vapor,while a small stream ran away into the interior of the earth.In a short time we had some sufficiently cool to drink.We swallowed it in huge mouthfuls.
Oh!what exalted delight-what rich and incomparable luxury!What was this water,whence did it come?To us what was that?The simple fact was-it was water;and,though still with a tingle of warmth about it,it brought back to the heart,that life which,but for it,must surely have faded away.I drank greedily,almost without tasting it.
When,however,I had almost quenched my ravenous thirst,I made a discovery.
"Why,it is chalybeate water!"
"A most excellent stomachic,"replied my uncle,"and highly mineralized.Here is a journey worth twenty to Spa.""It's very good,"I replied.
"I should think so.Water found six miles under ground.There is a peculiarly inky flavor about it,which is by no means disagreeable.
Hans may congratulate himself on having made a rare discovery.What do you say,nephew,according to the usual custom of travelers,to name the stream after him?""Good,"said I.And the name of "Hansbach"("Hans Brook")was at once agreed upon.
Hans was not a bit more proud after hearing our determination than he was before.After having taken a very small modicum of the welcome refreshment,he had seated himself in a corner with his usual imperturbable gravity.
"Now,"said I,"it is not worth while letting this water run to waste.""What is the use,"replied my uncle,"the source from which this river rises is inexhaustible.""Never mind,"I continued,"let us fill our goatskin and gourds,and then try to stop the opening up."My advice,after some hesitation,was followed or attempted to be followed.Hans picked up all the broken pieces of granite he had knocked out,and using some tow he happened to have about him,tried to shut up the fissure he had made in the wall.All he did was to scald his hands.The pressure was too great,and all our attempts were utter failures.
"It is evident,"I remarked,"that the upper surface of these springs is situated at a very great height above-as we may fairly infer from the great pressure of the jet.""That is by no means doubtful,"replied my uncle,"if this column of water is about thirty-two thousand feet high,the atmospheric pressure must be something enormous.But a new idea has just struck me.""And what is that?"
"Why be at so much trouble to close this aperture?""Because-"
I hesitated and stammered,having no real reason.
"When our water bottles are empty,we are not at all sure that we shall be able to fill them,"observed my uncle.
"I think that is very probable."
"Well,then,let this water run.It will,of course,naturally follow in our track,and will serve to guide and refresh us.""I think the idea a good one,"I cried in reply,"and with this rivulet as a companion,there is no further reason why we should not succeed in our marvelous project.""Ah,my boy,"said the Professor,laughing,"after all,you are coming round.""More than that,I am now confident of ultimate success.
"One moment,nephew mine.Let us begin by taking some hours of repose."I had utterly forgotten that it was night.The chronometer,however,informed me of the fact.Soon we were sufficiently restored and refreshed,and had all fallen into a profound sleep.
